Work Text
Michael considered himself normal, or at least as normal as every other six year old boy.He liked playing outside, and collecting rocks, and eating candy right before dinner. But he also... kind of wasn’t like the other boys, too. He liked colouring, and dancing to the music on the radio, and collecting cool feathers. He got picked on for that sometimes, but it was alright! Father said that just meant they were jealous of him.And Father was always right. Michael was nine now! He had a super cute baby brother now, too— his name was Evan. Michael had to be careful with him because he was still just a baby— but that wasn’t all bad! They could still play pretend and house and toy battles together.
Maybe that way Michael’s friends would stop picking on him.
Not everything was okay, though. Michael could hear Mum and Father screaming at each other almost every night, now. They used to do that a long time ago too, but it wasn’t as frequently as they did now. More often than not, Michael would wake up and find his Mum had left– sometimes without even leaving a note–, thus leaving him to get Evan dressed for daycare while Father got ready for work.He would never admit it, but those were the days Michael liked the most. Getting to– being expected to– do things boys weren’t supposed to, things he liked, and getting told he was doing good. Michael was ten now. Evan’s second birthday was in a couple months, and Mum had given birth to their little sister Elizabeth yesterday.She’d let Michael hold her before she’d let Father, which Michael found weird, but he didn’t really have time to dwell on it because suddenly he had an armful of tiny little redhead and oh her eyes were so bright so green so pretty and she was reaching up and grabbed his finger and she was holding his finger with her entire fist and—! Needless to say, Michael would do just about anything for his baby sister. Mike was twelve now.Things were confusing; Father had started treating Mike less like a kid and more like he did Mum, Lizzy called Mike “Mama” more often than she didn’t, and Mike finally, finally, made some friends.Granted, those friends were mean to everyone (whether they were an old lady or their own sibling didn’t seem to matter much to them), but they were fun.And they fit in.Not in the traditional sense, more in a they-fit-in-because-they-don’t-fit-in way. But even then, wasn’t that what Mike had always wanted? To just fit in? Mike just turned thirteen. But they really, really wished they could just go back to last week and just not.Normally, they’d be excited, nearly ecstatic, to be that one year older.
But it felt unfair that they got to be older when Lizzy didn’t. When she never would.
Ever again.
Mike didn’t remember much of that day— just that Lizzy wouldn’t stop begging to see Circus Baby up close. At some point she’d used ice cream as an excuse– because the new animatronic had a soft serve machine in her– and Mike had been so desperate to get her to just calm down that they took that excuse and ran with it— almost running to the diner’s kitchen to get their daughter sister some of the dessert.The next thing they knew, they were back in the Stage Room, staring horrified at Lizzy’s favourite robot– whose abdomen had the slightest splatter of red red red— And then waking up in the living room at home; lying on the couch, using Father’s William’s chest as a pillow while the man held the teen as though they might float away. Evan was only six— even if Mike could explain what happened to Lizzy, he wouldn’t be able to understand it.So Mike got dressed in one of their mum’s old dresses (all black, with long bell sleeves and a twirly skirt), pulled on their muddy combat boots, and went to their brother’s (their only living sibling left's) bedroom to help him do the same. They spent the entirety of the funeral in silence. After all, how can one explain to their little brother why he can’t run around, why everyone’s either already crying or on the verge, and why his little sister isn’t there?The answer:
you can’t.
Mike was fifteen years old, now.They’d stepped up in the past year or so— no longer standing by while Evan got bullied only to comfort him in the aftermath, instead outright protecting him. Standing between him and whoever was picking on him, even if it was the teen’s own so-called ‘friends’. Evan’s birthday party was next week. Mike couldn’t quite figure out what to get him, but they were sure something would come to them.
This was going to be awesome!
It was not awesome. Mike didn’t know what had gone wrong– they’d left the room, going to grab someone to bring the cake out (if only to avoid their friends' constant badgering)– and the next thing they knew, they were staring up at Evan’s terrified face just as the springlocks in Fredbear’s mouth activated.
They couldn’t save them. They couldn’t protect Lizzy from her favourite thing in the whole world, and they couldn’t protect Evan from their own stupid friends! They were so stupid, so worthless, they couldn’t even protect their own siblings, their own children, they couldn’t they couldn’t they couldn’t they COULDN’T–!
“I can’t I can’t I’m sorry please I can’t–!”
“Mike!”
Evan’s funeral was almost two weeks later; closed casket.The paramedics hadn’t been able to get all of the pieces out of Fredbear’s joints, so the diner had to be closed down. Mike didn’t really care if it never opened again. Their entire life was gone. Just– just gone. Their siblings, their kids, Mike had raised them more than their actual mother had— and for what? To see them both dead before Mike themself had even hit twenty?
What a joke.
Mike was eighteen now.It was hardly even four a.m, but they had already cleared their old bedroom into boxes, a moving truck waiting by the curb.They couldn’t do this. Couldn’t– Couldn't stay there, with all of those memories, all of the reminders of something– of someones– they could never get back.
I’m sorry, Lizzy, Evan. I just can’t stay here. Not without you. I– I just can’t.
William didn’t wake up until later that morning. By the time he did, Mike was already long gone.Never to be seen again. Or... were they?