The Afton Children

Michael stood by the stove's warmth as he watched a pancake sizzle in a pan. The kitchen smelled of melted butter and sweet syrup, making his stomach rumble, but he would eat once his siblings were fed. His younger brother and sister sat at the dining table that was squished in the kitchen's corner. The small table barely fit four chairs, so a fifth chair sat a few inches behind the others. His chair.

"More!" Elizabeth said and pounded her tiny fists on the table, shaking the stack of pancakes towering over her. She had a baby face, with round cheeks and a button nose, and she wore a red bow clipped in her ginger hair. Father loved doting on her, and Mother often called her tantrums adorable.

But Michael called her a pain. The start of a headache pricked his forehead from her constant squealing. He pressed his palm against his head, the pressure easing for a moment, before he reached down for his spatula. The worn plastic poked his fingertips as he pointed it at Elizabeth's pancakes. "You really want more? Your tower is four pancakes away from falling on you."

As if Michael's words had been a challenge, Elizabeth said, "I want four more!" Unfortunately for her, he was out of batter.

"I only have one left," Michael said. He slipped his spatula under the pancake and flipped it over, revealing dough coked to a golden brown. He grinned. Finally, after twenty pancakes, he had one that wasn't charred.

Flicking off the stove, he lifted the pancake off the pan with his spatula. He moved to the dining table and slipped it on Elizabeth's stack. The tower swayed, threatening to topple over. It soon stilled.

"Leaning tower of pancakes," Cece smiled to the golden plush cradled in his arms. The stuffed animal resembled a bear dressed in a purple tophat and bowtie. It was a miniature version of Fredbear, the mascot of Father's business.

"You better eat your food," Michael said and nudged Cece's plate closer. Cece only had two pancakes, both of them blackened around the edges and drenched in syrup.

Cece frowned at his plate. His brown bangs fell over his eyes as he hugged his plush closer to his chest, the yellow fur contrasting against the black shirt with gray stripes. "They're burnt," he whispered.

"Eat around the burnt parts, dummy," Michael said and lightly slapped the back of Cece's head. Tears welled in Cece's eyes.

"Mi-kol!" Elizabeth pouted, exaggerating her British accent as she mimicked how Father shouted his name. She hopped off her chair and stomped over to Michael. She looked up, her green eyes piercing into his, before slamming her foot into his shin.

Michael winced as pain radiated up his leg. For only being six, that hurt. "You shouldn't hit your brother," he said and leaned down to rub his shin. It better not bruise. That would be embarrassing.

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "You shouldn't hit Cece. I'll tell Daddy."

"Then I'll eat all your pancakes," Michael said. Her eyes widened and she glanced back at her tower, as if it would suddenly vanish. She opened her mouth to protest, but a click from the front door silenced her.

Mom was back.

Mother's footsteps padded towards the kitchen before she stepped through the entryway. She was nearly the spitting image of Elizabeth. Round cheeks softened her face, her eyes sparkled a vibrant green, and, despite the strands being blond, her hair flowed in gentle waves.

Mom walked to the kitchen counter, her heels clicking against the tiles. "Did you make breakfast for dinner?" She asked as she dropped her work bag on the tabletop and leaned against the counter. She wore a smile, though Michael could see the bags weighing her eyes. She didn't usually work Saturdays. One of her coworkers was on vacation, so she had to cover a shift.

"I made pancakes," Michael said with a lift of his chin.

"He burnt Cece's," Elizabeth said as Cece gave an affirming nod. Michael shot them a glare. That was the last time he made her a pancake tower.

Mother chuckled. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate the help." She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the wild strands. "Where's your father?"

Michael's gaze fell to the floor. "Who knows," he mumbled with a shrug.

Father was supposed to watch them while Mom was at work. However, early in the morning, Father had said, "I have a project I need to finish. Look after your siblings for me." And Michael hadn't seen him since. Dad was probably locked away in his office, filing paperwork or something.

Mother sighed, her hand falling to her temple as she rubbed it. "I'll talk to him," she said. She pushed away from the counter and headed towards the hall, but paused at the threshold and turned back to Michal. "He's still bringing you to his lunch next week, right?"

"Think so," Michael said. He had asked – no, begged, to have a father-son lunch. Father's only offer was Michael joining his informal business meeting with the co-owner of Fazbear Entertainment, Henry. Michael supposed it was better than nothing.

Mom offered a smile and said, "I'll make sure he keeps his word."

"Sure," Michal said as he looked away, hiding the hope in his eyes.