September 9th , 1985 – Hurricane, Utah

This was downright unfair. Michael had just started high school, and they were throwing this huge party where all his friends were going—every single one of them, except for him. It wasn't because he was a loser like his nine-year-old brother; no, it was because he was stuck babysitting Evan.

His dad, with all the money he had, could've easily hired a babysitter, but instead, he chose to leave Michael with the responsibility. Why bother spending money when he had a free one just down the hall?

However, Michael couldn't admit it, but he was scared shitless of his father. He knew he could ask once, but asking twice was not an option. William Afton wasn't a kind man. To annoy him could end very badly. But tonight, Michael felt he couldn't hold back any longer. He walked to the door to put on his shoes, not caring if his father saw him.

Just then, William appeared, ready to leave.

"May I know what you're about to do, Michael?" he asked in that calm, annoying voice.

Michael wanted to scream about how unfair this was, but the fear stopped him again.

"Father... I... I'm invited to a party..."

Crap. It sounded so weak. He hated that he felt more like his crybaby brother when he was in front of that asshole. His father looked at him with less interest than the morning newspaper.

"And who's going to take care of your brother, Michael?"

The way his father spoke sent a chill down his spine. Michael knew that at any moment, William could become violent. He didn't know when it would happen, but it always hung over him.

"I... uh..." he stuttered, sounding just like Evan.

"Yes, Michael. You're going to be useful for once. I know you will. I'm off to work; I have a night shift tonight. Don't disappoint me."

And with that, William closed the door, leaving his son behind. That prick. Michael felt humiliated—his own father had shut him down without even raising his voice, and yet Michael had obeyed, just like always. The whole thing pissed him off.

But his father wasn't the only one he was angry at. Whenever he got stuck on "Evan duty," Michael couldn't help but blame his little brother. He knew it was stupid to blame someone just for existing, but still, if Evan wasn't such a crybaby, maybe he'd be off at the party, having a good time.

Michael stopped outside Evan's door. His little brother was sitting quietly in his room, as usual, not making a sound. Michael knew he could probably just leave him alone, and Evan wouldn't even notice—but he couldn't take that risk.

Still, maybe he could do something else, just to get a bit of fun out of this night...

...

Evan hated it when his father forced Michael to stay home with him. It made him feel like a burden, one of the reasons his big brother seemed to hate him. Sure, he wanted to spend time with Michael, but not like this. Not as a responsibility Michael had to be dragged into.

If he was honest with himself, he couldn't remember a time they'd ever spent real time together. Not the kind of time brothers were supposed to have. They'd never really had fun; Michael only seemed to find ways to make fun of him.

But tonight felt too calm. He hadn't heard a single sound from Michael since the door closed. His brother had probably ditched him, and as much as he didn't want to admit it… it scared the hell out of him. Left alone again.

Evan stayed frozen on his bed, clutching Fredbear, his only friend. God, he hated himself for being so damn pathetic, scared to be alone, feeling the slightest bit safer just by squeezing a stupid stuffed animal. He was nearly ten now; he shouldn't need something like this. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do anything else. He just sat there, helpless to shake the fear crawling up his spine.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Evan's eyes widened like he'd just heard the howl of a beast in the distance. He began to shake uncontrollably, knowing he looked utterly ridiculous, but he couldn't give a damn. The door had swung open, the window was shut tight, and Michael was probably off at his stupid party, leaving him alone to face this bullshit.

His attention snapped to the bedside table... to the clock. It was only 9 PM.

What the actual fucking fuck?

Did they really come back early? Were they going to start showing up earlier every damn night, forcing him to stay awake longer and longer?

Evan felt the tears threatening to spill, but he quickly wiped them away, gritting his teeth against the rush of fear. He opened his drawer and fumbled around until his fingers closed around the only thing that made him feel safer than his plush. His flashlight.

...

Evan rushed to the door, not daring to glance around. Nothing felt safe in his room, especially now that all this weird shit was starting to happen. He didn't know what was wrong—whether it was the house, his toys, his door, or just him—but he felt like he was in real danger. The thought that he could end up a bloody mess at any second made him switch completely. His heart raced, but his mind went sharp, his whole body on edge.

He gripped the flashlight tightly, listening into the heavy silence of the hallway. Nothing. Just darkness.

Weird...

Evan lit the flashlight into the hallway just as he heard someone snicker, and holy fucking shit—he was so dead. He didn't even bother to see who was there; it was bigger than him, it had teeth, and it was... threatening. It was there to hurt him, and he knew he had messed up.

In an instant, he slammed the door as hard as he could, but it was too late—the monster was already in his room. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor—goddammit, it hurt like hell, but he couldn't care less. His flashlight slipped from his grasp, clattering away as he scrambled back, a trembling mess, desperate to put distance between himself and whatever was about to spill his blood.

Then came a laugh.

Evan opened his tear-blurred eyes, confused, and looked up as the "monster" turned on the light. A monster with a human arm, brown hair, and, through his stupid Foxy mask... blue eyes. Of fucking course. He hadn't even considered the fact that Michael might've stayed home.

"I didn't even have to say a thing... damn... this never gets old," Michael sneered.

Evan tried to stop crying, but instead, he buried his face in his knees, embarrassed and still shaking. Relief washed over him, but he was also pissed at Michael for putting him through that. His head throbbed, a gnawing headache from the sleepless nights spent running in terror, trying to keep the monsters away.

He wanted to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. And suddenly, he understood why Michael thought he was overreacting... because Michael wasn't the one lying awake night after night, having to deal with this shit.

...

The boy didn't know how much time had passed, but he stayed like that for what felt like forever, his ankle throbbing painfully from how he fell. Michael kept trying to get him to pay attention, but Evan knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, he would politely tell his big brother to fuck off. So, the little boy remained quiet, sniffling occasionally because he didn't want to move to grab tissues.

But after a while, he was alone again.

And it didn't feel as horrible as he thought it would.

Maybe the sound of the TV downstairs made him feel a little safe. Because Michael was here, and despite how much of an asshole he could be, and how Evan wanted to tell him so badly—except he was too scared—his brother wasn't like the monsters. Sure, he could shove him and make him fall to the ground, but Michael Afton had never hurt his little brother badly, nor had he ever let their father lay a finger on him. It was confusing, but… it felt like there was maybe hope.

He couldn't deal with them; maybe he could deal with his brother.

...

Evan went downstairs, putting on a convincing face for his brother. He knew that even if Michael laughed at him, his brother was still upset to be forced to be with his "stupid little brother." So, the boy did what any good little brother would do...

"Uh... Michael?" he called softly, as his brother was still watching TV.

His brother's eyes flicked away from the screen, looking at him with annoyance. That smug smile was gone. If Evan wasn't a source of laughter, he was a minor inconvenience.

"What do you want? Go to bed, now. It's 11 PM," he snapped, his voice harsh.

Evan kept his head down, unable to speak, just like when Michael talked to their dad. He knew his brother wasn't going to get anything out of him if he kept being a dick, but Evan had to try. Before he could muster the courage to continue, Michael stood up, towering over him.

"Now, I said. Don't piss me off."

There was so much anger in Michael's eyes. Evan wasn't stupid; he knew his brother was blaming him for everything. The younger one was just trying to make it all better, but it felt like Michael was only being selfish.

"Evan, I won't—"

"Will you shut up for two seconds!"

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Michael's face darkened instantly. Shit, he was so stupid. But instead of slapping him, Michael knelt down, a curious yet menacing look crossing his features.

"Go ahead then, little man, what do you want?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom, ready to deny whatever his brother was about to ask.

Evan had to try really fucking hard to keep his cheeks dry.

"I... I can stay on my own, Michael..." the boy mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michael was surprised. Good.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"I'm not stupid, Michael. I know you wanted to go to that party. Just go."

Evan was surprised at how smoothly the words came out. He just wanted his brother to stop hating on him so much. All of Michael's anger quickly evaporated, replaced by concern.

"Dad will kill me..."

"I won't tell anything. I'm not like that, Michael... you know it. And Dad is doing the night shift. You just have to be back before... uh... 6 AM, I guess."

"You swear...?"

"Just go already..." Evan mumbled, feeling a mix of dread and relief.

Now that triggered a spark of excitement in Michael. That asshole... But Evan had to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin the moment. As Michael turned off the TV, he looked back at his brother with a more serious expression.

"You... already ate?"

Evan lied and nodded, the truth hanging heavy in his throat. He'd probably throw up whatever he managed to eat, given what he faced every night.

"Okay... then... go to bed, I guess... and brush your teeth..."

He lied again. It was pathetic how much bullshit he was saying just to earn his brother's approval. Sure, Michael's voice sounded grateful and even a little caring, but Evan couldn't shake the hurt that gnawed at him. He wanted his brother to stay, to cling to him and hear that everything would be alright; to finally get some rest and not just an hour or two. He wanted a big brother.

"Bye, Michael..." he muttered, his voice wavering with emotion.

Michael hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his face, but all he managed was a quick goodbye before he left. The door clicked shut behind him, and Evan was alone, swallowed by darkness.

It was going to be midnight soon.