Mike Schimdt X You - Blog Posts

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 3)

Afab!reader x Mike Schmidt 

pt 1 pt 2

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, slow burn, enemies to friends(?) Slight angst, mentions of custody/family issues, fluff, no use of y/n

A/N: I just wanted to say I'm so sorry for taking almost a year to write this. I was originally going to leave it unfinished, but it didn’t feel fair, plus I've been itching to write something. Sorry this is short, I felt like you guys deserved some clarity at least. Also, I’ve been practicing writing these past few months, so hopefully the quality has increased!

(I did change the tense, so I'm sorry for the difference from the prior parts.)

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Mike was never the type to lie. Ever. He wasn’t perfect all 6 years, but no one is. But, just hours ago he drunkenly admitted he lied to you for years. 

The lie ran through your head like poison, infecting your blood, and making it impossible to think. 

He was drunk. He could barely make it down the hall without your help. But, it was such an odd confession, and he said it with such conviction you had no choice but to believe it was the truth.  You had always believed drunken words were sober thoughts. 

Either way, those 5 little words caused you to call out sick to work the next day. How could you work? How could you walk through the fluorescent-lit halls and act like your world wasn’t torn apart just 12 hours before?

Clapton was still blowing up your phone with texts filled with worry and frustration. You felt bad, sure, but you just couldn’t deal with him.

You flipped open your phone, scrolling through the long slew of messages. 

“Why aren’t you answering me? Did I do smth?”

“U good?”

“Yea. I haven’t been feeling good recently, sry.”

It wasn’t just an excuse; you genuinely felt like shit. A heavy pit settled in your stomach, and a wave of exhaustion washed over you. The thought of confronting Mike loomed over you like a dark cloud. You knew you needed to talk, but the mere thought filled you with dread, tightening your chest and making it hard for you to breathe.

After long, restless hours in bed, the pain in your heart became unbearable, a heavy burden weighing you down. With a deep breath, you finally pushed the sheets aside and got up. The silence of the hall closed in around you as you approached Mike’s door. You hesitated briefly before knocking softly, the sound cutting through the stillness.

With every silent second, your heart pounded louder in your chest, and your palms grew slick with sweat. A chilling wave swept down your spine, tightening the grip of anxiety. The hairs on your arms prickled as the locks clicked and echoed in the silence. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the irrational fear that gripped you.

The door creaked open, and there stood Mike, silhouetted by the dim light behind him. You took a long look at him, your eyes tracing the dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing nothing but basketball shorts. His soft brown curls were a tangled mess, and his skin had an unusual greenish hue. With his eyebrows furrowed together in pain, you could tell that he was suffering from an awful hangover.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” You asked, unable to shake the feeling that he might have forgotten the words he said that carried so much meaning. 

Mike sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, I’ve been an ass, haven’t I?” he asked, regret evident in his voice. You chuckled softly, silently agreeing with him.

“It’s… Fine.”

“But, it’s not.” He said, his voice shaky, “You’re so… Good to me. You always have been.” You snapped your eyes up and looked into his. 

“I just… I just don’t understand why you’ve been this way, Mike.”

“I- God, things have just been a mess with Abbs and my Aunt.” 

“Mike…”

“I know. I know, it’s no excuse. I just... You were always my rock. You were the only one who could calm me down, who could help me work through my bullshit.” 

The hatred that simmered deep in your soul slowly melted out of your body the more he talked. The tension in your shoulders deflated, and a sad smile crawled across your face.

“Then why’d you leave me?”

Mike winced, your words stabbing through his beating heart. Before he could speak, you hesitantly brought up the prior night.

“You… You said something last night. That- There wasn’t another girl?”

His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. The horror in his eyes made it apparent that neither of you were ready to have this conversation.

“I think it’s best if you come in.” 

Minutes later, you found yourself situated on his couch, a mug of tea warming your shaking hands. Mike sat down next to you, now covered up with a black sweatshirt.

“Do… Do you remember the first custody battle? When they called you to testify and come to court for days.” He enunciated days like you didn’t remember the grueling weeks you two fought through together. Despite that, you nodded slowly.

“You had to take a gap year. You were so close to getting your teaching degree. It put you behind.”

“I remember.” 

“Well… Um.” He stuttered through his words, almost like it was painful to recount the past. “That week I left... It happened again. Jane tried to get custody. I just.. Couldn't put you through that again. You were on track to getting your dream job, for god's sake. So, I left.”

Your entire body froze as the world around you stopped spinning. Dizziness clouded your head, and your vision became blurry. It didn’t make sense—nothing he said made any sense to you. For two years, you had believed what he told you. You believed that heartless text he sent. You accepted every word.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“It wasn’t fair to drag you into my bullshit. I wanted to protect you and protect Abby. I thought the best way was to get you away from me. I was like a black hole. I sucked the life out of you.” 

“Mike- That’s not true!”

“It is, though! I mean look at you! You have everything. You have your dream career, your dream apartment. Your life became better when I left.”

“Because I had to! That year, I lost everything! I lost my whole world, Mike! I loved you! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped! I would’ve done anything for you!”

“That’s exactly why I left!” You flinched back, your eyebrows furrowed together. “I just couldn’t watch you interrupt your life for me. Interrupt your dreams. I couldn’t even protect my own sister. How could I sit there and ruin your life, too?”

You wanted to push him, yell at him, but you could tell he was in pain. You could tell guilt was eating him alive, you could tell he was aching. You didn’t want him to feel worse for his actions. But you needed him to know how you felt. You needed him to know how the hole in your heart he left almost consumed you.

“Mike… I spent almost 3 years hating you. Hating myself. I hated myself because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. You should’ve told me.”

“Good enough? You were too good for me! Hell, you still are. I treated you like shit. I ruined your life! And you still care for me. You still helped me in my lowest moments. You’re beautiful and sweet, and god, you’re just.. An angel. I never deserved you.” He could barely look you in the eyes.

Before your brain could process, and beg you to stop, your hand reached up to cup his jaw. Your thumb drew circles on his skin. His eyes flicked up to yours and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“That never stopped me from loving you.” His eyes shone in the apartment lights, illuminating the flicks of gold. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. You wanted to stare at him for hours. You wanted to study each crease and wrinkle of his face. You wanted so desperately to count each of his freckles. “Was there really no one else?”

“God, no. There was only ever you.” 

You sighed, the weight of the past slowly lifting off of you. You couldn’t fully trust him, and you knew you could never go back to before. But your heart still screamed for him. It still longed for him. “I wish you didn’t lie to me.”

“Me too.”

Your thumb continued to stroke his soft skin. It was dangerous to be so close. You and Mike knew it. But, it felt right. It felt natural. It felt like two lost puzzle pieces were finally fitting together.

A text notification pinged throughout the room, echoing in the silence. You quickly pulled away and cleared your throat. Mike's eye twitched as he grabbed his phone off the counter. The color in his face drained quickly.

“Shit- It’s Jane.” 

You sighed and looked away from him. “Okay. I should… Go, anyway.”

“Hold on- I’ll walk you out.” He stood up, speed walking to his front door. Before you stepped out, you quickly turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your chest against him, breathing in his cologne. 

He hesitated slightly, worried you would turn to dust if he dared to touch you. After a heartbeat, he gave in. You stood in his doorway, his face tucked into your neck, yours pressed against his chest. His heart beat against his ribs, matching the flutter of yours.

Footsteps echoing against the walls of the apartment hall caused you to tear away from Mike's embrace. 

Clapton stood in the hall, a shopping bag in his hand.

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The room was filled with awkward silence, unspoken apologies, and a tension you couldn’t cut with a chainsaw. Clapton sat on your couch, paralleling your earlier conversation with Mike. He sat there, his leg bouncing up and down quickly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Clapton quickly cut you off. “I know.”

Bewildered, your eyebrows raised and wrinkles appeared on your forehead. “You- What? Know what?” “That you,” He swallowed. “Used me. I ran into Mike at 7-Eleven yesterday. He told me he moved in next door.”

Your eyes were wide, and guilt began gnawing at your stomach. “Clapton- I- I’m so sorry…”

His eyes were soft, but his lips were downturned. “I get it. I’ve- had my moments like that. Trying to get back at an ex…”

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, biting down on the plush skin. “You've sent glitter bombs over to someone's house and fucked someone so loud you dented your wall?” Clapton’s eyes widened and he chuckled.

“Well- I- That’s original.” Now it was your turn to laugh, though the sound felt hollow and insincere. He was right. You acted like a middle-schooler. For god's sake, you were a teacher. You were supposed to be the responsible one, the one guiding the next generation to success and maturity. But you were instead getting fucked at 3 am and sending prank packages to get back at an ex. The moment you had that revelation, a wave of nausea washed over you, twisting your stomach into knots. You were an awful, sad excuse of a fucking human.

Clapton's large hand suddenly resting on your shoulder grounded you, just slightly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing and your palms trembling ever so slightly. “You’re not mad?”

Clapton laughs, almost bitterly. “I mean- I was. But I’m just- disappointed mostly. I know how much you love- loved Mike, but did it have to be me?”

You clenched your jaw together and looked away, eyes focused on the world outside. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. As you shifted your focus back to him, you were drawn into the depths of his warm, brown eyes. You searched for an ounce of understanding.

“It’s… I get it.” Despite the disappointment and betrayal you saw deep in his irises, he still smiled. Clapton was always like that. He had always hidden how he truly felt behind sickly sweet words. “I still want to be friends.” Even with his lie about understanding what you did, you could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice; he was sincere about being your friend. You felt relieved that he valued your friendship as much as you did his.

“I’d like that.” 

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You were completely drained, every ounce of energy drained from your body. Having two heart-to-hearts with the most important people in your life weighed on you immensely. For now, all you wanted to do was sleep. You wanted desperately for your life to go back to normal, before Mike lied to you, before you almost wrecked your relationship with Clapton. Back when times were simple.

Despite the turmoil in your heart, a part of you was still glad. There was still hope with Mike. But, did you want there to be? The haunting doubts nagged at you: What if he lied to you again? What if he shuts down, reinforcing those walls that had torn you apart? The uncertainty tightened its grip, leaving you torn between yearning and fear.

Could you still love him after what happened? Did he still love you?

Even with the countless questions racing through your head, exhaustion took hold, and your heavy eyelids finally surrendered. For the first time in weeks, a rare calm washed over you, finally granting you a peaceful sleep.

So, I wasn’t going to post this until i was done the fic but I’ve lost all motivation so here’s a blurb of “We are never, ever getting back together” PT 3

(this is so ass)

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 2)

afab!reader x Mike Schmidt

pt 1

WC: 3k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of intoxication, slow burn, mentions of child abuse, no use of y/n, aged up character

A/N: I want to apologize for any confusion the first chapter might have caused! This fic is a Mike Schmidt fic. It's just a slow burn/somewhat(?) of a love triangle and I thought adding Clapton would be funny. (plus I’m in love with him…) Before you read, just as a warning, this chapter gets pretty deep. 

Enjoy!

tags: @h3llo-k1tt @caminterrupted @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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It's been almost a month since you and Clapton's hookup. He's been texting you nonstop. Text after text floods in, and you ignore them all. You feel bad, but you’re too embarrassed to even face him. You sigh, flipping open to Clapton’s contact to read the new heap of texts.

U good?

Miss you. Hope that ur ok.

Wanna hang?

Helloooo?

Okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of u.

You groan, slamming your phone back down on the bedside table. You enjoyed the night you two had, and it felt great at the time. But now you just feel like shit. Now all you think about is Mike, and how disgusted he was with you. While you’re thinking about Mike, you realize you haven’t seen or heard him in weeks. He’s been out of his apartment way more than usual, and you’re sure he's avoiding you. To be honest, you don’t blame him. If he pulled that on you, you’d up and leave.

You lay back down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on a movie, desperate to think of anything else but Mike or Clapton. Suddenly, you hear frantic knocking on your door. You reach for the remote and pause the TV. You sit silently for a minute, wondering if you were hearing things. Not only is it 8 pm on a Saturday, but you also aren’t expecting any guests. Who could possibly be knocking on your door? As you're about to un-pause the TV, more knocks echo and bounce off the walls.

You slowly get up from the couch, and wearily walk over to the door. You shift to the balls of your feet, trying to peer through the peephole. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as all you see is the top of someone's head. You slowly wrap your hand along the cold metal of the knob, slowly turning it open. Your eyes widen as you see Abby on the other side.

Her face lights up, her eyes practically glowing. She squeals, bolting over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.  “Abby!” You scream, pulling her into you.

“I missed you so much! Mike said you moved away to your castle to be a princess!” You scoff inwardly, Mike’s lie making you despise him even more. "Where is your castle, by the way?" You glance down at her, ready to make up some insane lie. Before you get the chance, you look to your left, seeing Mike skirt around the corner, bee-lining towards you. He’s panting, his face red. “Shit- I’m... Sorry. She’s so fast.” You plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face, ensuring Abby doesn’t notice the hostility between you.

Mike takes Abby’s hands, prying her off you. “Heyy! I want to play with her! Please! Please, Mike!” She whines, giving Mike her best puppy eyes. He looks up at you, a guilty look falling over his features. He shrugs at you, waiting for your response. “Okay, come in!” You say, focusing on the little girl in front of you instead of Mike. The two of them walk into your apartment, Mike clearly not wanting her to be alone with you. You give him a dirty look and he rolls his eyes. Luckily, Abby’s too focused on your decor to notice or even care.

She runs around your apartment, oohing and ahhing at every fuzzy pillow and every cute decoration lining your shelves. She opens your bedroom door, and you think she’s about to explode. She looks back at you, her eyes wide. “You can go in.” You say, giggling as she wastes no time to roll around in all the stuffed animals you still keep on your bed. You quickly follow behind her, flinging yourself in the pile. Mike leans against the door frame, smiling as he watches you both stand up and jump up and down the bed. Abby stops, her eyes catching on something on your bedside table. She jumps down, her feet landing on the plush carpet. She grabs a heart locket off your bedside table, holding it up to the light. “Woah! This is so pretty!”

You immediately freeze, your face almost lighting on fire. You quickly grab it out of her hands, stuffing it in a drawer. “Mhm, so pretty! Why don’t we get out of the bedroom?” You steer her out of the room, sliding around Mike. You loved her with all your being, but her lack of an attention span seemed like it was out to get you.

As Abby sits down on the couch, you look over at Mike. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed. He glances back into your room, the locket he got you for your 3rd anniversary haphazardly hanging out of the drawer. You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. 

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Mike opens your front door, not even bothering to announce his arrival. He sits down next to you, a huge smile on his face. “What?” You mirror his smile, confused as to what he might be so excited about. “Okay, I know our anniversary isn't for a few days but I- I just couldn’t wait. I'm sorry it's cheap, I couldn’t afford much.” He says, awkwardly. 

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, taking out a velvet box. You look up at him sweetly, gasping as you open it. You pull out a heart-shaped locket. You feel your eyes well up as you open it, reading the words engraved inside.

“I’ll love you forever and Always, Mike.” 

You fling yourself onto him and you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls you into him kissing you sweetly. In between kisses you mumble out, “I love you so much.” You feel so loved and so grateful that you met someone like him. You didn’t care about the money, he was worth so much more than gold or diamonds to you. 

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You shake your head, pushing the memories out of your mind. Mike looks away from you, his cheeks growing rosey. You sigh loudly, sitting down next to Abby. Over the next few hours, you and Abby color what feels like a thousand different sheets of paper. 

By 11 pm, you’re both lying down on the floor, markers and papers scattered all across your living room. Mike watches from the couch, telling Abby a story as she draws him. A few times, you both glance at each other, but you both quickly turn your gaze to Abby instead. After Abby finishes her drawing, she holds it up to you and him. “It's so good!” Mike says, taking the paper out of her hand. He starts pointing out small little details Abby included, gushing over each and every one. You’re utterly entranced as you watch him. 

You miss him so much.

Your eyes widen and bite your cheek, wanting to slap yourself across the face for even thinking that. He abandoned you. That’s it. 

But.. He loved you so much. Or at least you thought so. How could he just up and leave without a word? You wanted desperately for there to be any other reason. A part of you was convinced there actually was. You bite down harder, a salty metal taste erupting across your tongue.

Whatever happened, he left. That’s it. There’s no excuse. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the roller coaster that’s running through your mind. Maybe… Maybe for now you can forget your distaste for him. Just for a few minutes.

You smile softly as he and Abby burst out laughing. 

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They leave. Too soon. As soon as the door shuts behind the both of them, the apartment is filled with deafening silence. You lay down on the hardware floor, the cold wood seeping through your shirt and biting into your back.

You never realized how much you truly missed Mike and Abby until you saw them tonight. Or… Maybe you just missed having someone to wake up to every day. Whatever it is, you shake it off and crawl onto the couch, too sad to walk a few feet to your bed. You pull a soft blanket over you, the edge of it just barely covering your feet.

You slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of a time when you and Mike weren’t basically sending bombs to each other's front doors.

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You bolt awake, sweaty and shaky. You look around, your heart beating out of your chest. You’re unsure of what woke you up, but it scared the shit out of you. Listening closer, you hear crying, no, wailing. And it’s coming from next door. You quickly bolt up, running to your door. But, you pause as soon as you reach it. You don't want to get involved with Mike and Abby's life more than you have to. Plus, it could just be one of her usual tantrums. It could even just be something as trivial as a burnt breakfast. You pivot, turning back towards the couch. As soon as you hear screaming, you tear up all of your inhibitions and run into the hall. When you reach Mike’s door, it flies open and a woman storms out, dragging an inconsolable Abby out.

The woman, who you recognize as Mike’s aunt, is gripping Abby’s arm so hard that the skin around her fingers turns white. Mike runs out of his apartment pleading with her, “You can see she doesn’t want to go! Please, just-” Abby digs her heels into the ground grabbing Mike's shirt with her free hand. Jane yanks Abby to her side, pulling her away from her brother. “I guess I’ll have to go to the police and tell them you kidnapped my niece! I have sole custody, not you, Michael!” Mike’s eyes go wide, the color draining from his face. He takes a step back, putting as much distance between him and Jane as possible.

You watch in shock, beyond confused about what had gone down during the two years you were broken up. “You truly are a despicable woman.” He says, disgust dripping from his voice. Mike crouches down, getting eye level with Abby. “Abby, I’ll see you soon. I promise, okay?.” His voice cracks as he reaches out, wiping her tears with his thumb. Abby wiggles out of her Aunt’s grip, running forward to wrap her arms around him. He pulls her closer as she sobs into his sweater. Aunt Jane rolls her eyes and then rips Abby away with absolutely no remorse. She drags her down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing completely.

He sits down, pressing his back against the wall. He exhales, tilting his head back and staring into the fluorescent lights. You cautiously take a step towards him, “Mike…?” He looks over at you, his jaw clenching as he sees you. “Still can’t seem to mind your own business, huh?” He scoffs, his eyes turning away from you. You pause, crouching next to him. You desperately want to comfort him, but you just don't know how. “Can.. Can I do anything?” He looks over at you, his face twisting into a death stare. “For starters, you can leave me alone.” You flinch, feeling a wave of sadness rush over you. You can’t even imagine how he feels. “Mike, please..” You reach out, your hand brushing his.

He slaps your hand away, and screams, “I said leave me the fuck alone!” You stand up, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry for having a fucking heart, Mike!” He laughs, standing up. “Oh, you have a heart? Did you ever tell Clapton why you called him at 2 in the fucking morning?” You look away from him, swallowing. “That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone, and stay out of my life!” You feel tears burning your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lip quivers as you speak, “All... All I wanted to do was help.”

“This is exactly why I left you.” He turns away, storming into his apartment. As soon as the door hits the frame you break down, falling to your knees in the middle of the hall.

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You’ve been crying for hours straight, the tears seemingly having no end. Your pillow is drenched and tissues are splayed out all over your comforter. As you wallow in despair, the sun slowly sinks further across the sky, the only light illuminating your room being the white glow of the moon.  It’s crazy to you how two entire years after your separation, Mike is still making you feel so extremely worthless. You could never be enough for him, no matter how hard you tried. What you hated most though, is that he had a point. You used Clapton. For your own sick and twisted reasons, you used him. And you hated yourself for it. 

Just as you begin to sob harder, you hear a thud against the wall, coming from the hallway. The sound echoes through the walls again, and it sounds almost like someone ran into it. You hear someone grunt and struggle, cursing. You recognize the voice and you groan, taking everything in you not to get up and check on him.

Suddenly, it feels like someone takes control of your body as you walk to your door, stepping into the hallway. You see Mike fumbling with his keys, missing the keyhole every time. He’s clearly very intoxicated. It’s surreal seeing him in such a way. He never drank when you were with him, he always told you he had to make sure Abby was always looked after and always had someone to turn to. Now that she’s not here, you guess he decided nothing is stopping him from getting shitfaced.

You walk over to him, grabbing the keys out of his hands, and unlocking the door yourself. He looks over at you, and any ounce of disdain he held for you from earlier disappeared. “Thanks..” He says quietly. You invite yourself in, making sure he gets to the couch without hurting himself. You avoid eye contact the whole time, knowing if you glance at him for even a second you’d burst out into tears.

Once he’s settled, you turn to walk away, but you feel his hand grasp your wrist, stopping you. “Please... Please stay.” He pleads. You sigh, removing his hand from you. “I can’t keep doing this Mike…” You say, finally turning towards him. He has a guilty look on his face, and he suddenly can’t seem to look at you. “I... I didn’t mean it..” He slurs, his face tipped towards the ground. 

You sit down next to him, your eyebrows raised. “You didn’t mean what..?” You question. “You know. What I said earlier. I do want you in my life…” He says, his eyes tracing the floorboards. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Mike, you’re drunk.” He shakes his head, finally making eye contact. “I swear. I do. I mean.. just look at you. I treated you like dirt and you’re still helping me? You’re just.. so.. so nice.” You frown, wishing so badly he was sober. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reaches out, his warm hand cupping your face. His eyes bore into yours as he speaks. “I’m not ever going to lie to you again. I promise.” You’re not sure exactly what he means by “again” but you brush it off, chalking it up to more alcohol-induced rambles. 

You stand up, Mike’s hand leaving your face and falling back to his lap. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, okay?” He nods, following your every move and watching you as you walk around his kitchen. 

Your eyes begin dancing around every framed picture he has and every drawing Abby made he has clipped to the fridge. Your eyes settle on a picture of you, him, and Abby at an amusement park, almost exactly a month before he left you. You pick it up, your thumb rubbing over the scratches in the frame. That trip was unforgettable. That was the day you knew he’d be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. You couldn’t imagine a world without him or Abby. You put it back, wondering why he still has it. 

You fill up a glass, taking it back over to him. He drinks it in one gulp and he hiccups once it’s all gone. You place your hand on his chest, slowly pushing him back to get him to lie down. He takes the hint, lying back down on the couch. Your hand lingers there for a moment too long, but you quickly tear it away when he smiles up at you. The smile is still plastered on his face as he watches you drape a blanket over him. His eyes slip shut as he turns on his side, pulling the blanket to his chin.

You look down at him for a few moments. You just don’t understand how one moment you could hate him more than anything, and the next wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. You were half of yourself without him, and just as you started to feel complete he just had to infiltrate his way back into your life. As you watch his chest rise and fall, you just can’t help but still love him. Sadly, nothing was ever going to change that. 

You slowly creep towards the door, the floorboards creaking under you. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, “There was never another girl..” You freeze and turn back to look at him. “What?” Is all you can say. He doesn’t give you any explanation for what he just grumbled. You convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re just hearing things.

That night, you don’t sleep at all. You keep replaying that moment in your head, over and over. 

“There was never another girl.”

haunted past

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

a/n: WARNING: loose recollection of the movie bc I don’t have the energy to rewatch it lol. I’m not planning on following games/book lore bc I don’t have the time to rewatch the eight-hour YouTube video covering it all. So, forgive me if I take some creative liberty. (Dark subjects following the themes of the movie/games below the cut, including the murder of children)

Summary: You'd thought you'd left the past behind. You never thought you'd be back at this place. It's the source of your every waking nightmare and the worst day of your life. Freddy Fazbear's is the catalyst of where your life went wrong, but when Abby's life is on the line, you have no other choice. Can you survive another night at Freddy's? (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

The door creaks open, one eye peeking through the crack. Mike taps his foot impatiently. He glances briefly down at Abby. She’s practically giddy with excitement as she waits for you to open the door. He knows it's only because you’ll let her watch whatever she wants on TV and don’t enforce bedtime. 

He hates having to resort to bugging you about this. It’s not like he can pay you for all the times you’ve watched his sister. Relying on you for free labor isn’t exactly the best lead into asking you out—not that he thinks you’d actually give him a chance. 

“Christ,” you prop the door open, just barely wide enough for your frame to fit in. You’re not especially welcoming. “What do you want now?”

Abby breaks free from his hold. She shoves through you and rushes into your house. You scoff, turning slightly to watch her. Mike rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “Don’t tell me,” you stop him before he even gets a chance to start. “You’re back for unpaid labor?”

Mike’s face screwed up, even if it’s true, it still stings to hear. “Look, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t-”

“Do this if you didn’t have to,” you finish for him. With a brief sigh, you close the door and step outside with him. You’re in some of the skimpiest shorts he’s ever seen and an inappropriately flattering tank top. He’s struggling, as he usually does, not to just bolt. 

He finds you hard to talk to. Not just because of his usual aversion to the general public, but simply because of how intimidating you are. Besides your already blunt personality, he’s rarely ever had a crush this intense before. It’s hard to stomach these feelings, especially when he knows there’s nothing to be done about it. 

“I’ve heard the spiel before, Mike.” His face screws up at the bluntness of your words. You’re normally like this but you seem especially annoyed tonight. You take a seat on the rocking chair on your tiny porch and nod towards the other one. He takes it as a win that you’re not just kicking him to the curb.

You’ve made this place a home more than he’s bothered to. You’ve got a few potted plants littered around the porch, chairs, and your little glass table with an ashtray he’s never even seen you use. You don’t seem like a plant kind of girl, but they're doing better than any he’s ever attempted to take care of. 

“What is it this time, anyway? And what happened to your other babysitter?”

He rolls his eyes at the mention of Max. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with her all day. She just left Abby home alone the other night.” Your eyes narrow with anger and you let out a loud huff. 

“What a bitch,” you mutter, tucking your legs into your chest. 

Mike shrugs and picks at the hem of his sweatshirt. He hates talking to you, he doesn’t know how to. He never knows if what he’s saying is irritating you or not, you’re so hard to read. He barely knows anything about you, yet you’re the closest thing to a friend he’s ever got. 

“I’ve got a new job-”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you interrupt, and you almost sound… hurt? He doesn’t want to read too much into it, but he still offers you a whispered apology anyway. 

“I’ve been pretty busy, all this shit with my aunt and rent,” he gestures vaguely to his house across from yours and lets out a tired sigh. His head falls into his hands and he scrubs his hands down his face. He hates burdening you with his problems. It’s not on you to be his on-call babysitter and therapist. 

You place a light hand on his arm and for a moment he thinks he might be dreaming. You lean forward, forcing him to meet your eye. “Rent? Look,” your face screws up awkwardly and you force the next words out, “I’ve got money.”

“No,” he immediately interrupts, jerking away from your touch as his face sets in anger. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a beggar. He’s not telling you this to get a handout. “No, I don’t want your money.”

You scoff and cross your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not offering it freely. Consider it a loan, alright?” He opens his mouth and you cut him off with a pissed-off look. “Just shut up and wait here.” You get up, slipping back inside your home. He hears you through the open window as you greet Abby. 

“How’s school?” You ask, rummaging through something. 

“I don’t know, fine,” she answers vaguely. 

He can hear you scoff in amusement, “Yeah, I hated school too.”

“Mac and cheese later?”

The door opens and you call a, “Sure, kid,” over your shoulder. It’s another reason he likes bringing Abby over to your place. You seem to be the only person she’s willing to give more than two words to. Besides, you can actually get her to eat somehow. 

You approach him with a slip of paper in your hand. You shove it into his unwilling hands and he lets out a rough sigh when he sees it’s a check. “Don’t argue,” you snap, sitting back in your chair and refusing to make eye contact with him. “You’ll pay me back.”

He says your name and you shake your head, clearly uncomfortable. “Forget it, just tell me about the new job.”

He scratches the back of his head, debating whether or not he should thank you for the help. It’s not a lot, he knows you’ve got about as much to spare as he does, and he’ll still need to finish this job. However, it is enough to put some food on the table without worrying about every penny. 

Still, you look incredibly disturbed by your own generosity, so he pockets the check and figures he’ll think of a different way to thank you. “It’s a security gig.”

“Really?” You smirk and turn towards him. “Someone hired you after what happened at the mall?” You give him a disbelieving look and he can feel the way his face heats up in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, well it’s pretty creepy. It’s at the old abandoned pizza place. Freddy Fazbear’s.”

Any amusement on your face is drained and you give him a horror-struck look. “What’d you say?” You whisper, voice stricken by something he can’t decipher. For a moment, he doesn’t even want to answer you. 

You’re completely unrecognizable, the usual stoicism he faces is replaced with absolute terror. “Um,” his brows scrunch in confusion and he clears his throat awkwardly, “Freddy Fazbear’s.”

Abruptly, you jump up from your seat and rush away from him. He watches as you run back to the door, his confusion only rising. He calls out your name but you just shake your head. “I gotta head inside, watch the kid.” It’s a rushed excuse and one he sees right through. “You should go.”

He doesn’t get a chance to question you as you slam the door closed. He gets up, but the lock clicks, and the window slams shut. Mike stands in front of your house, absolutely shocked by what just happened. He’s too confused to be concerned, wondering how what he just told you could have elicited that reaction. 

With a low exhale he turns on his heel and walks back to his car. He throws one last glance over his shoulder at your house, but you’ve clicked off the porch light, completely blocking him out. 

He shakes his head in astonishment, getting in the car and driving off to the pizza place. What the hell was wrong with you?

You’re glad Abby is in the bathroom as you catch your breath. Your back is plastered to your door, chest heaving as you fight off the oncoming panic attack. The last thing you need right now is her pestering you about what’s wrong. 

You clench your eyes shut, but when you do all you see is a golden back and the sharp glint of a knife. Your hand drifts towards your abdomen, subconsciously lingering over the scar. Your eyes shoot open and you shake your head, trying to force the memories of the night away. 

You haven’t heard that name in years, haven’t thought of it. You’d thought you’d gotten rid of it entirely. You should have known better, it was always going to haunt you. If you were less of a coward you would have moved away years ago and let the past be buried entirely. But you just couldn’t fully let him go, could you? 

The sink runs and the door is thrown open as Abby comes back to the living room. You force yourself away from the door and offer her a tense smile. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and it’s the first time you’ve despised how clever she is. 

“What’re you drawing?” You rush the words out, voice tight and panicked. You just need to distract yourself. You need to think about anything but that damn place. 

Her suspicion gives way to her typical eagerness to shove her sketches in your face. You don’t know much about kids, but you know she’s not what people consider normal. Not that you mind. However, you’ve never been a big fan of children in general, they bring about bad memories for you. Watching Abby so regularly was happenstance when you greeted Mike as they moved in. 

You’d never been the type to have freshly baked cookies and a welcome wagon for everyone in the neighborhood. For the most part, you all pretty much steered clear of each other. But Mike was cute and you felt like flirting for a little bit. 

You hadn’t expected him to be quite so awkward, or for there to be a kid. In a desperate attempt to end the conversation and escape how stilted the whole thing was, you offered help if he ever needed it. And he needed a lot. 

Now, your weekends have turned from one-night stands and hanging out with people you barely consider friends, to watching cartoons with a kid. You don’t mind it, but you’d prefer it if her brother were there to join you both. His stunted personality has a certain charm you find yourself drawn to. 

“Here,” Abby takes a seat on the floor and you join her. You tap your fingers against your thigh, trying to soothe your heartbeat back to a normal rate. Your mind is racing in a million different directions as you take the picture from her. 

It doesn’t help, if anything, you feel even worse. Bile and terror make for a bad combination as you stare down at her crudely drawn “friend.”

“That’s Freddy,” she tells you. “Chica, and Bonnie,” she’s all smiles as she points to the different caricatures. All you can do is nod, eyes peeled on the blue bunny. 

“You’ve been with Mike to the new job, huh?” Your voice is airy as you flip the paper over and shove it away. Abby frowns, snatching it back from you and smoothing out the wrinkles your grip left behind. 

“No. These are my friends.” 

Terror makes way for concern as you slowly turn towards her. “What?” You ask quietly, not wanting to believe what you’re hearing.

“They’re my friends,” she repeats slowly, giving you a disbelieving look. She turns away from you, huffing and picking up her crayons again. You scramble to your feet, rushing to get away from her. You grab your phone book and run to the landline. You go over the F’s a million times, but you can’t find Fazbear’s number anywhere. 

The entire night is turned into one long, agonizing wait for Mike to return home. You find yourself unable to eat or sleep. You move like you’re walking through a fog. Make Abby dinner, wait for her to pass out, and put her to bed. Then you sit and stare at the blank screen of the TV, just waiting for a knock on your door. 

At 5:30, you finally hear it. You shoot off the couch, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. You know you must look insane, eyes wide and face drained of blood as you drag Mike inside. 

He stumbles from your grip, giving you an affronted look as you slam the door closed behind him. He glances over his shoulder, making sure Abby isn’t woken up by the noise. “You need to quit!” You shove the words out in one rushed jumble. 

His brows furrow and he shakes his head, not quite understanding you. “What?” He asks, scoffing and looking away from you. He glances towards the messy couch and then back at you. “Have you been awake the whole night?”

“Mike,” you grab him by the shoulders, squeezing until he winces from your touch. “I need you to fucking listen to me, you cannot go back. You can’t go back.”

He places his hands over yours, threading his fingers through yours and trying to ease your grip off of him. Neither of you pays attention to the fact that he doesn’t let go. “What are you talking about? I can’t just quit.”

“Mike,” your voice carries a desperation you rarely let yourself show. You know that it’s difficult for people to read you. You’re aloof on purpose, anything to keep people away. But right now, you need him to recognize how vulnerable you’re being. You need him to see the fear and panic on your face and just fucking listen to you. 

“You need to leave that place behind and not look back, okay?”

He takes a step back from you and you know you’ve gone too far. You should have played it cool and approached the subject like a normal person would. But there’s nothing normal about Freddy Fazbear’s and you need him to know that. 

Instead, all you’ve done is properly terrify him away from you. He releases your hands like they’re hot irons and stumbles a few steps away from you. He has a placating smile on his face as he nods his head shallowly. “Alright, sure,” he mutters, not meaning a word of what he says. “I’m gonna get Abby. Need to get her to school soon.”

He rushes down the hall and you let yourself fall into your kitchen chair. Your head drops into your hands and a hollow pit of despair opens up inside you. You did this all wrong. You always do. Every time you try and help someone it turns back around on you. No one believed you the first time, why would they now?

You hear him walk past you, Abby’s grumpy voice demanding to know why she can’t stay longer. “Now,” he snaps, opening the door and pushing her out. It closes and you finally lift your head, expecting them both to be gone. 

Instead, Mike lingers by the door, he has a concerned look on his face as he approaches you. He kneels and opens his mouth with a low huff of breath, “Look,” his hands hover over yours like he wants to hold them. You tuck them away before he can, not willing to make eye contact with him. He shakes his head, stopping himself from whatever he was going to say. 

He stands back up, glancing down at you with a frown. “Just try and get some sleep.”

That’s rich coming from him, but you don’t bother saying anything. You only nod your head, willing him to just get the hell out of your house and take his sister with him. You tried, you can’t say that you didn’t. 

The door slams closed and you flinch at the noise, a flash of blue darting across your vision. You know it’s not real, it’s just a product of your lack of sleep. You can’t help searching for a pair of blue bunny ears, though. 

Dread sinks deep in your gut as you think of losing the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in years. Preemptive grief weighs heavy on you as you get up and throw yourself onto your couch. You imagine the pain of losing Mike and let it be what lulls you into a restless sleep. 

As insane as you were behaving yesterday, Mike still has little choice but to ask you to babysit once more. He hesitates, something is clearly going on with you. He’s never witnessed anything beyond vague disinterest in your interactions. 

How you acted yesterday would be out of character for anyone, but coming from you, he’s worried that there might be something seriously wrong with you. He doesn’t need to burden you further with his sister, but he needs this job. He’s backed between a rock and a hard place. 

He decides to come over without Abby, just to try and gauge how stressed you might be. Your porch light is on as he approaches the house, but he doesn’t see your car anywhere. He’s hoping it’s parked down the street. 

He didn’t give you much notice that he was coming over, but you rarely leave the house. When he first moved in, you were gone every night and there was a new car besides yours every other week. 

Nowadays though, you seem content to be a homebody most of the time. He’s about to knock on your door when he notices something pink shoved under the ashtray on your table. He frowns, his confusion only deepens when he sees his name scrawled in your unusually messy handwriting. 

He unfolds the paper, eyes roving over the words in disbelief. 

Mike, 

In case you need my unpaid services again, call someone else. I’ve got a date tonight that I’m not gonna reschedule to deal with a kid that isn’t even mine. Maybe you’re right, you really should just give her up to her aunt. God knows you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re a bad friend, but you’re a worse brother. Stop dragging me into your mess and just sort your life out. 

The further he reads, the more angry he gets. The paper is crumpled under his tight grip and he cusses as he tosses it into your rosebush. He doesn’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with it tonight. 

As angry as he is, that you could throw something like that in his face, he still can’t help but worry about you. There’s something very wrong with you, lately. But it’s not his problem to solve, you’ve made that abundantly clear. 

You fiddle with the rings on your fingers, gnawing on your lip as your eyes dart out the window of your beat-up car. The longer you sit in this parking lot, the more guilt you feel. You know you wrote what you did for the best, but it doesn’t ease the sting of regret. 

You wrote some nasty shit to Mike, throwing his deepest insecurities back at him like it meant nothing. But you needed to make sure he didn’t come looking for you. You needed insurance that after all this he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. 

Freddy Fazbear’s dilapidated sign looms over you and you could almost cry looking up at it. You’ve run from this moment for so long. You’ve kept your back stubbornly to the past and refused to look. 

Surging memories have been buried in alcohol and sex. Remembrances of the past have been erased. You cut off your family, friends, and anyone who knew what happened to you. Yet, you couldn’t leave this town. You could never leave him behind, not when you know he’s still in there. 

The taste of bile has laid thick on your tongue since last night. You haven’t had a moment of true rest since hearing that name again, since seeing Abby’s picture. Never, have you labeled yourself as selfless or a hero. The whole reason you’re in this mess is because you’re a coward, through and through. 

Now, in an ironic twist of fate, you sit in the parking lot of your childhood and you wait to sacrifice yourself to some higher entity so Abby might have a chance of surviving. You know that what you’re hoping to accomplish tonight is a pipe dream, that you’re more likely going to die than you are to achieve anything fruitful. But you’re never going to be able to live with yourself if something happens to Mike and Abby and you don’t do anything. 

You can’t have someone else's blood on your hands again. You left Jeremy behind. You’re not going to do the same to them. You check the clock on your radio and suck in a deep breath. Adrenaline rushes through you as the sun slowly sets behind the pizza place. 

Your blood is tingling with the anticipation of being spilled. There’s a phantom twinge of pain from the scar on your stomach. You wince through it, turning off the car and throwing the door open. You’re praying that you’ve left Mike without a babysitter and he won’t show up to his shift tonight. 

You round the back of the pizzeria, frowning at the chain on the handle of the door. You brought bolt cutters for a reason, but you were hoping you might be granted a silent entrance. You cut through the chains and they clatter to the pavement, the noise echoes through the quickly darkening sky. 

You roll your eyes, pushing the rusted door open and slipping inside. So much for the element of surprise. The hinges creak behind you and you whirl around, grasping for the handle. The door slams shut with a loud slam before you can stop it. 

You shrink into yourself, glancing over your shoulder, already expecting someone to be standing at the other end of the hall. Instead, it remains empty. You don’t know if that's better or worse than what you were expecting. 

You pull your flashlight out of your back pocket, shine it down the hall, and step silently over the tipped-over filing cabinets. The place is nothing like you remember it. Gone are the bright neon lights and the sound of children’s laughter. 

Instead, it’s replaced by cobwebs, flickering lights, and a haunting silence that has chills rising along your arms. You keep one hand along the wall, ignoring the way dust seeps into the cracks of your palms. Your light darts between the ground and the cavernous dark before you. 

There’s a suspicious shadow at the end of this hall that you don’t trust. It’s too dark, and you swear you feel eyes following you. But you can’t tell which direction they’re coming from. Something loud cranks at the end of the hall, the sound of gears grinding together stops you where you are. 

You freeze, breath coming in short bursts of air as you slowly tilt the light towards the shadow. Before you can see what it is, a shrill, childish scream rips through the air. “Abby!” You shout, rushing towards the noise, ignoring the noises following quickly behind you. You burst through the door at the other end of the hall and freeze when you see Mike fighting off the cupcake. 

You rush towards him, slamming the bolt cutters through the faux frosting before it rips his fucking arm off. He stares up at you in shock, he’s already covered in blood and bandages and you can’t even begin to wonder what happened to him. 

He mutters your name in disbelief and you stumble back from him, letting the bolt cutters and animatronic drop to the ground. “Mike, what the hell are you doing here?”

He jumps to his feet, speaking to you with an accusatory tone, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a date,” you don’t miss the jealousy in his tone and you scoff. 

“You almost had your arm gnawed off by an animatronic, do you really think this is the time for that?”

He opens his mouth, to argue or concede you’re not sure, and another scream rips through you both. You turn towards the side door and your face screws up in fear. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me that’s not Abby.”

His answer is shoving past you, shouting his sister’s name. You follow after him, barreling through another door and stumbling back as you watch the scene before you. Foxy paces across the room, dragging his hook along the old arcade games. 

Mike dives to the right, ducking behind a booth. You see his head begin to tilt towards you and you rush towards the stage, hiding behind it while you look around for Abby. You can’t see her anywhere and you don’t know if you should be relieved or throwing up. 

Something loud clanks above you and the walls of the stage tremor under your hands. You clamp your lips together, swallowing down a whimper as you slink further down the stage. The wood vibrates again and you can’t help the slight gasp you let out. 

Something clamps down on your shoulder, fuzzy and blue. You feel the metal pushing against the plush of the suit and he squeezes until you hear your shoulder cracking. There’s nothing that can stop the scream from ripping out of you as your bone shatters under his grip. Mike turns just as you're dragged onto the stage. 

You’ve only got one arm you can feel now. The other drags along the wood, longer than it should be. You can’t even feel the pain, your blood is pumping so hard you’re blind to it. You lash out at the hand holding you, groping for wires and pulling the second you feel them. 

It makes his grip loosen just enough for you to wiggle away from him. You’ve got oil coating your hand, blood drips down your arm. You can’t look, you know if you do, you’ll see your bones poking through your skin. If you look, you’ll pass out and there’s no telling what they’ll do to you then. 

His eyes narrow in on you and you scramble weakly on your one good arm. Freddy’s disappeared, and you don’t know where to. You can only look on in horror as Bonnie stalks towards you. Dying at the hands of the friend you’d left behind. It seems poetic, in a way. But you know this isn’t him. This is what that bastard has twisted him into. 

His good hand reaches out towards you and you do the only thing you can think of. “Jeremy!” He pauses, the orange light illuminating his plastic eyes flickering out only for a second. For a brief moment, you can see the frightened child within him once more. 

Then, something latches onto the back of your hair and slams your head down until the world goes dark. 

You glance around the pizzaplex, smiling as Jeremy blows out his candles. His parents hover behind him, bickering silently between each other. Jeremy looks at them, his big smile fading when he sees them fighting again. 

“Hey,” you grab his arm as the other kids dart greedily towards the cake. “Wanna play hide and seek again?” He looks at his cake, but he’s never had a sweet tooth. You know he just wants to keep playing, his parents practically had to drag him away from the stage for this. Only to be too busy fighting to wish him an actual happy birthday.

Jeremy nods eagerly, jumping off the bench and following after you. You laugh, darting underneath the balloon arch Mr. Afton had brought out for him. 

You and Jeremy come here every weekend, you’re practically best friends with his daughter Vanessa. She’s kind of weird, but you don’t hold it against her. Besides, being nice means Mr. Afton gives you both free pizza. 

The only reason Jeremy’s parents could afford to rent this place for his birthday was because Mr. Afton had offered them a big discount. You dart past the stage and hover at the edge of the ball pit. “One-two-three, not it!” You press your finger to your nose, laughing as Jeremy is just a second too late. “You’re looking first,” you command, shoving him slightly away from you. 

“Come on,” he whines, “it’s my birthday.”

“No cheating,” you tell him, practically stomping your foot. The big 8 on the paper crown he wears goes ignored as you point towards the booth behind you both. He lets out a loud sigh, stomping his way towards it and turning his back to you. He starts counting, loudly and skipping a few numbers. 

You narrow your eyes at his back but don’t hold it against him. Someone hisses behind you and you frown, turning to see Vanessa peeking out from behind a curtain on the stage. She gives you a weak smile, waving you forward. 

You look to your parents but they’re not paying attention as they talk to the other adults. You clamber on stage beside her, smiling up at Freddy and Bonnie. She grabs your wrist, not saying anything as she takes you to the back. 

“Vanessa?” You whisper, growing a little scared at the darkness of the room. It’s a stark contrast to the bright lights outside. 

“Shh,” she instructs, holding a finger to her lips and smiling. “Just wait here, okay? My dad says he’s got a surprise for you.” You watch as she leaves the room, you hear the lock click as the door closes and jump in surprise. 

“Vanessa?” You call out again, hoping this is just a stupid prank and she’s coming back. Loud, clambering footsteps ring through the hall outside the front door of the room and you gasp. You look around for a hiding spot, something sick twisting in your stomach. You know Vanessa said it’s all a surprise, but you’re scared. 

There’s nothing but empty animatronics around you. Mr. Afton told you to stay away from them, that the springlocks could hurt you. But you have nowhere else to go. You pop open the stomach of Sparky and curl yourself inside her, your eyes just barely looking through the top. 

“This way, birthday boy,” Mr. Afton’s voice croons outside. He opens the door, motioning Jeremy inside and you can almost see his smile through the golden bunny suit he wears. You’re starting to feel a little silly. Mr. Afton’s always been nice to you, why are you so afraid all of a sudden?

Jeremy walks in, a bright smile on his face as he looks around the repair room. He stops in front of a run-down Bonnie and looks back at Mr. Afton. He’s in your blind spot, covered by a shelving unit. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you see the way Jeremy’s face drops. 

“Mr. Afton-”

A golden hand shoves Jeremy’s face back. His brown eyes widen in surprise, the whites of them the only thing you can see. You can hear his muffled scream against Mr. Afton's paw.

Mr. Afton shoves Jeremy back, pressing him against Bonnie. Something silver flashes under the dim lights and you peek your head up. You watch as Mr. Afton runs a knife through Jeremy’s stomach and he shoves him into Bonnie's open chest. You clamp your hand over your mouth, dropping back down into Sparky. 

Your knee knocks into one of the metal springlocks and you have to fight everything in you not to surge forward as it digs through your intestines. You squeeze your hand over your nose and lips until you feel like you can’t breathe so you don’t scream. 

Blazing hot pain shoots through your stomach and legs, blood pools thickly down your dress and you can feel tears building along your waterline. Mr. Afton looks around the room, he rips the bunny head off and frowns. A vein bulges in his forehead as he calls out your name. 

He wipes the knife off and hides it behind his back. He places Bonnie’s head over Jeremy, “Vanessa?”

A moment later the door creaks open and a sheepish Vanessa pokes her head inside. She looks around the room, frowning when she doesn’t see either of her friends. “Where is she?” Mr. Afton demands. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I left her in here.” Her eyes narrow and she looks close to tears. “What was the surprise, Daddy?”

Mr. Afton lets out an irritated sigh and waves his non-blooded paw. “Forget that, we need to get back outside.” He rushes towards her, dragging the bunny head behind him, and shoves her back through the door. 

The second he’s gone, you’re openly sobbing. Hot tears pour down your cheeks as putrid bile shoves against the walls of your throat. You push Sparky’s stomach open and gasp when you see the large hole in your stomach. 

The other springlocks twitch threateningly as you tug at the one buried inside you. You take in a deep breath and rip it out, forcing yourself to leap away just as the others close. Your blood is dragged along the concrete as you crawl towards Bonnie. 

“Jeremy?” You call out, head swimming so much you can’t even feel pain anymore. Your fingers are cold as you dig fruitlessly at Bonnie’s stomach. You tug and tug, falling back as the panel swings open. 

You can’t see Jeremy’s head, you only see the springlocks digging into his small body. “Jeremy!” You scream, you scream so loud, Mr. Afton can’t even stop the parents from finding you before he does. 

You pass out from blood loss before they reach you. In that time he manages to paint you as two misbehaving children. You snuck backstage and messed with animatronics you had no business being around. He said you both must have tried to wear the old suits and there was no way of proving him wrong. 

So much damage was done to Jeremy’s body, that they wouldn’t be able to find a knife wound even if they knew to look for one. No one would believe you when you told them he killed him. They just thought you were trying to avoid getting in trouble. 

Mr. Afton only managed to keep the pizzeria open for a few more years. But you never went back. You couldn’t. You never forgave him and you never forgot your friend. 

The smell of cleaning products and the familiarity of a sterile hospital room greet you as you wake up. Your vision is slow to come back. Eyes foggy and blinded by the bright lights of the room you’re in. 

Your fingers twitch at your side and you’re relieved to find your arm still works, even after it was practically shattered by a haunted puppet. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing them to focus. A messy head of brown hair lays at your side. 

Mike is draped across the hospital bed, completely passed out. You find yourself smiling slightly at the sight. You slowly bring yourself into a sitting position and poke at him. “Mike,” you whisper, voice hoarse from lack of use. 

There’s a throbbing in your head that pulses along your optic nerve. Your face screws up as you reach towards the bandages wrapped around your temple. You’re honestly just happy to even be alive. You can deal with migraines for a few weeks. 

He jolts up, slightly disoriented as he stares at you. You offer him a weak smile and he lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re awake.”

“Apparently,” you mutter. You glance around him, a frown forming on your face. 

“She’s getting some snacks,” he tells you before you can even ask. “Abby’s fine.”

You let out a breath of relief, sinking back into the pillows. Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing, then. “You knew them,” he says. “Or, the bunny, at least.”

You nod your head weakly, any energy you had has been sapped out of you from the relief that both Mike and Abby are okay. “Yeah, I used to.”

“Are you going to tell me how you knew them?”

You take his hand in your own, surprising the both of you. “Some other time, alright? I think I want a date first before we start trading childhood trauma.”

He stutters and stumbles over his words, brows furrowing as he gives you a disbelieving look. “Did you just ask me out? While you’re still concussed?”

“Are you saying no?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it. He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Abby comes rushing back into the room before either of you can say anything else. She smiles at you when she sees you’re awake. She jumps onto the bed, uncaring of the way her knees dig into your legs. 

“Careful, Abs,” Mike scolds. You wave him off and he rolls his eyes. 

“I made you something,” Abby tells you. She hands you a picture and you let out a sharp breath. 

It’s you and Jeremy. Granted, crayon versions of the two of you. But it’s him all the same, as the boy you knew, no longer the monster he was turned into. You feel tears building in your eyes as you tug Abby into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” you whisper, holding the drawing close to your heart. 

You’d like to pretend that you’ve gotten closure from all of this. Jeremy’s been put to rest and you can move on with your life now. Now, you can have a family again, have friends again. But that would be a lie.

You still feel him, as you always have. He’s a shadow clinging to your back, a haunted past you’ll never be able to let go of. He always comes back. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the games/movie Five Nights at Freddy's (FNAF), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.