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mrs-march-ahs · 2 years

Note

Part 2 of math teacher Kai Anderson that picks right up on the cliffhanger the first one left off on 👀

Kai Anderson, Your Math Teacher (Part 3)

Summary- Mr Anderson, desperate for untraceable way to tutor you, finds a way for you to learn your lesson in a way that pleases both of you.

Warnings- LEGAL age gap (the reader is 18+), teacher x student, manipulation, Kai Andereson, filming, masturbating.

Words- 4.1k

You may want to read this part 2 to know everything!

please, enjoy <3 I beg

You pressed your fingers against your clit and rubbed in circles, mimicking the pace that Kai stroked himself on the screen. Your phone rested against your laptop screen, recording you as you laid with your legs spread and your shorts moved to the side, exposing your bare pussy.

Kai’s moaning quickly became nothing but background noise, as you filled the room with noises of your own. Your family was downstairs, and you had to limit yourself, but the sound of his grunts as he approached orgasm had more control of your body than you did. The sounds tingled through your legs, making you literally drip arousal.

You circled your clit quicker, making your laptop and phone shake slightly. Arousal was drooling down to your ass, picking up the light from the window and being the star of the video. Despite how much you wanted to make the video good for him, his voice and masturbating sounds turned you on immensely.

You grab a fistful of the sheets with your unoccupied hand, before quickly letting go and attaching it to your boob instead. You squeezed it, putting your nipple between your fingers and tugging. Your other hand got sloppy and tired, but you didn’t care as your legs began jittering in anticipation for release. Kai’s video was coming to an end, and what played was the last 10 seconds of him cumming, groaning your name over and over, stroking himself even after orgasm when he’s sensitive. The sound of him grunting your name – as if he was saying ‘Damn Y/N, you did this to me – was the green light for you to cum.

Your legs shook and your pussy pulsated, but you kept going, trying to imitate Kai in the video. Continuing to rub when you were so sensitive was difficult but electrifying. Your legs tried to close multiple times in protest, but you forced them open, now stroking your clit with you all of your fingers, while you still had the energy.

Panting, you look straight up at the ceiling, praying to your own personal God (Kai Anderson) that the video captured at least a fraction of the pleasure you just felt. And after a second to catch your breath and stop tingling, it was the moment of truth.

You watched back the video and much to your surprise – sulked. The video was barely a minute long, and what you could hear more than your moans where Kai’s moans in the video. You were so desperate and excited that your legs kept shaking the camera, making the video crappy to watch. You were so exhausted, that was the strongest and best orgasm you’ve ever had. Shame Kai turned you on so much, that it only lasted 47 seconds.

You put your phone down and gently swiped your hand up your pussy, collecting all the left-over wetness that wasn’t staining your shorts or bed. Your clit was swollen purple, just as worn out as your arm was after tonight’s fire session.

You couldn’t possibly record any more today, too tired to even sit up straight, but you and Kai had a routine now. You couldn’t… or rather really didn’t want to turn up in school tomorrow and show him something as underwhelming as this. He told you himself that you were the only thing left that could make him cum, and he proved it too. You couldn’t show him this.

You lazily reached over to your nightstand and took your cable, plugging in your phone to your laptop to put the shitty video on the USB drive anyway. While you were there, you desperately wanted to make yourself a copy of Kai’s erotic video, but you were terrified of somebody finding it or seeing it. Once your new video was on the drive, you deleted it from your phone, too scared to keep it.

The next day was… strange.

You planned to avoid him. Not smile at him in the corridor should you see him, not answer any questions in class, do everything you could to not attract attention to yourself. You didn’t want to tease him and occupy his mind too much if you didn’t have what he wanted. You knew more than anybody that being teased sucked.

You packed your school things and tried to remember a time when the main reason to go to school was to learn and see your friends, not daydream about a man a decade older than you. Once you were dressed and thought you had everything, you left out the front door and walked to school.

But planning to not attract attention didn’t work out well for you when you arrived late for your first lesson: maths. You slowly opened the door, glancing around to see that everybody is already sat down and looking down at their notebooks, despite only being 9:06.

You walk towards your seat – at the front of the class – and quickly sit down, sliding down, trying to hide. Although none of your classmates gave your tardy a second thought, you couldn’t hide from the person who really mattered.

Kai looks up from his desk in front of you, briefly looking you up and down.

“Why are you late?”, he asks bluntly. Your heart dropped into your stomach, and you smile at him sweetly.

“I’m sorry”

“Does that answer my question?”, he replies, standing up. He was never this strict with anybody when they were late. Kai, out of all of your teachers, cared the least. He was stern in his own way, but he mostly came every day just to do his job and leave.

“I-”, you hesitated. “Uh”

Kai looked at you with a slightly agitated expression. Your entire face burned as you stared at him apologetically knowing that you weren’t going to say what he wanted to hear. But how could you tell him in front of the whole class that the reason you were late was because you had to run back home to collect the flash drive, that he may ask for?

Your shuffled in your seat, feeling everybody’s eyes on you. But you didn’t care about them, just him. He looked down at you with his almost black eyes before waving his hand once.

“We’ll discuss this later”, he finally put you out of your misery. You try to relax in your seat, but stay tense for the remainder of the lesson.

Kai acted as if he were so mad at you, that he couldn’t even look at you. He completely ignored you the entire lesson and it made you feel like he was disappointed in you, which was the worst feeling in the world. Your mind wandered to the underwhelming video on the USB, knowing you couldn’t even redeem yourself.

When the class was over and everybody stood up to leave, you quickly packed your things and wanted to get lost in the crowd to leave with everybody else. But Kai spotted you.

“Y/N”, he said in a deep voice, like a warning.

You froze in your step and walked to his desk, perching against it nervously whilst the two of you waited for everybody to leave.

Once it was just the two of you, you looked up at him, ready to be yelled at. But that didn’t happen.

“Do you have the flash drive, little lamb?”, he asks quietly, organising papers on his desk. He notices how you’re taken back in surprise. He smiles softly and steps closer to you.

“I had to wait the whole weekend”. He puts his hand on your thigh and leans in closer, waiting for you to say something.

Any words you wanted to say were lost in the minimal air between you. You quivered your lips, making sounds but saying nothing, distracted by his breath on your face. The second he notices, he brushes his lips past yours.

“Did you record something for me?”, he whispers, but against your lips, it sounds loud. You close your eyes, the sensation of his chapped lips against yours making you squirm in your seat a little. With his lips against yours and his hand inching up your thigh, you felt like the first time you were near him. The scene played out the same, but this time your heart wasn’t beating as fast. Your feet felt a little more on the ground.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your jacket, wanting to retrieve what Mr Anderson wanted and then run out. But you felt around your pocket, not feeling the small flash drive you knew was in there. Or rather, hoped. You stood straight, not leaning against the desk anymore and instead standing so close to Kai you could feel the natural bulge of his pants against your lower stomach.

You turn your head to look back at your desk, anticipating the drive to be on the floor near where you sat. But with every passing second you couldn’t feel it in your pocket, your chest began to feel fuzzy, not knowing who could pick it up.

“Everything alright?”, Kai asked softly. He put his hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to look at him. When you did, your glossy panicked eyes made him step back.

He put his hand in the other pocket of your jacket, filling it with his large hand and taking it out to hold the red drive.

“Looking for this?”

The relief of not having lost the USB only stayed with you for a second. Instead, his cocky expression of knowing everything about you more than you did made you shuffle your feet awkwardly. The confidence radiating off his smirk made you warm.

“Go to your next lesson, angel”

He slipped the device in a pocket on the inside of his blazer and sat back down at his desk. You hated that he dictated when the conversation was over. You felt as though you had no control over when you were talking to your teacher and when you were talking to Kai.

You stayed next to his desk, watching him type his password into his computer and start looking at his timetable. He completely ignored you, but he knew you were there. He did it on purpose. By giving you the exact attention you needed only when he wanted it, you knew you’d keep coming back for more.

But you didn’t budge. You hated what was on that flesh drive and felt a strong urge to warn him. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. But when you parted your lips to speak, he beat you to it.

“Next lesson, angel”, he repeated with his deep voice. The things that voice did to you.

You stood up straight and walked out of his class, completely lost. Everything was now in his control and there was nothing you could do about it.

That night, in bed, you dared to touch yourself. You were still trying to deal with the embarrassment of coming undone so quickly and thought that you should save yourself for him.

The next day, the lesson was normal. You went in and avoided eye contact. You did your work sheet and despite not understanding how to plot the equation on the graph, you weren’t going to ask. You tried your best to draw a graph from your knowledge, and then placed the sheet on his desk as you walked to the door.

Kai placed his fingers over your graph and glanced over the axis.

“Which is the y axis, Y/N?”

You slowed down in your step but kept walking.

“The horizontal line”

Kai spoke with leadership in his voice. “Look at me when I speak to you”

Your heart stopped. You turned on your heels to face him and let people walk around you.

“The horizontal line, sir”, you stumbled in your words.

Kai inhaled and put your sheet to the side. He looked at you and sighed, “Go to your next lesson”. You had a 50% chance, but you got it wrong.

Being at home without Kai sucked, and every day without knowing what he thought about your video sucked even more.

Everyday for the rest of the week you didn’t touch yourself. You felt ashamed to. You laid in bed every night, squirming your legs between your sheets. Until Friday.

On Friday, Kai seemed different. He had an extra bounce in his step, he was extra outgoing with his students. He explained things in a more fun and friendly way. He seemed to care more. He was more present in his class as a teacher. But not only.

His cheerful disposition was infectious, so when the lesson ended, you packed your things slowly and was one of the last people to leave.

“Y/N!”, Kai walked over to your desk, for a change. “Just the person I wanted to see”

Kai smiled at you and perched at the edge of your desk. Though you already stood in front of him, he spread his legs a little and turned his head. Once he checked that all the students left his class and the door was shut, he put his hands on your waist and pulled you between his legs.

The proximity made your face redden. He kept his hands rested on your hips and his eyes wandered up and down your body. They locked on your hips, that he previously described to you as your child-bearing hips.

“I have something for you”, he spoke softly. You didn’t know he was expecting a response until his eyes peeled off your hips and looked at you. It was the first time he looked up at you and you noticed the care pouring out of his eyes.

“I think I know what it is”, you replied quietly. He smiled.

He took the red pen drive out of his inside pocket and slid it into your hand, pressing your fingers to wrap tightly around it. You held it close and put it in your pocket, barely being able to contain your excitement. Not only did his compliments and attention consume you, but you now knew that the blip of the last video didn’t make him lose interest in you.

“It should help you with your recent struggles”, he said lastly before standing up.

You stayed close to him and furrowed your eyebrows in thought. Which struggles? A soft exhale of amusement at your expression left Kai’s nose, and he put a finger under your chin to make you look up at him.

When your eyes met his, you relaxed your face and let his fingers hold you. He slowly leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. His lips felt glossier but spicer than usual. You sucked in your lips to savour the taste of his kiss and he put his hand on your shoulder to dismiss you. You walked towards the door with him, his hand never leaving your shoulder.

When you turned around whilst walking in the corridor to look back at Kai one more time, to your innocent wave, he replied with a wink.

You couldn’t wait to go home.

Once in your room, you impatiently rubbed the tip of the USB against the tight hole of your laptop, frustrated that it didn’t go in. You flipped it once and plunged it in whole.

You double clicked the folder, and was met with the familiar white background of the private folder. But instead of having a video or photo like usual, you were met with a file with the ending .wav.

You curiously opened the file, realising it is an audio file. You clicked volume up on your laptop twice.

Unexpectedly, Kai spoke. Not gasped or moaned, but spoke.

‘Little Lamb, I know you’ve been having troubles recently, but that’s what I’m here for’

You sat still listening to Kai’s voice, unsure of what’s to come.

‘Daddy can help you last’

Kai’s nickname for himself made your heart skip a beat. His dark voice made your thighs tingle already.

‘Just do what I say, I know you’re so obedient for me’

Though nobody was there to see it, you nodded. You could hear Kai’s smile in the next sentence. Or smirk, rather.

‘Get a pillow for me, a fluffy pillow’

Kai paused for a second. You shuffled your laptop forward and looked behind you, taking the pillow on which you rest your head. Laying it on your lap, you slap it a few times, to make it fluffy.

‘Lay it down vertically in front of you’, he ordered, ‘Do you remember which way is vertical, little lamb?’

You huff at the comment and lay the pillow straight in front of you, giving it another slap.

‘Now, start recording for me’

“Oh!”. You weren’t expecting that.

You pause the audio and take your phone, resting it on your laptop to record you. You settle for the back camera, not only because the quality is better, but because you don’t want to see yourself right now. That’s for Mr Anderson to see. You press the space bar.

‘Take your top off’, he said. ‘And those pants, too’

Kai’s deep sensual voice guided you, being much softer now that you’re recording, but still very firm in his word. You wondered how much he had planned.

‘Touch your chest’, he coaxed you. ‘Show Daddy what you do when he’s not around’

You unhooked your bra and threw it on the ground. You slide your hands from the outside of your chest on either side, grabbing your boobs in front of you, squishing them together for the camera. You knead them softly, and close your eyes. It was almost difficult to remember what you usually did to your own body when nobody was around, but Kai brought out confidence in you.

You stuck your tongue out, and ran your pointer finger against it, collecting saliva. You circled your wet finger around your nipple making it stand hard. With your eyes still closed, you imagined Kai’s mouth latched onto you.

‘Now baby, listen closely’

Kai’s dark voice send shivers down your spine. You could already feel the arousal slipping out of you and pooling in your cotton panties.

‘Take everything off, but leave those soaked panties where they are’

You loved the confidence in his voice as he assumed you were wet for him already, but also hated that he was right. The cockiness with which he spoke about your body made it feel like it was his. Even through the screen he knew what buttons to press.

‘Fold that pillow in half for me, make a little… mountain’

You looked down at pillow in front of you and did as you were told.

‘Nooow’, Kai dragged out the vowel and inhaled impatiently. ‘Spread those pretty legs for Daddy’

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you finally caught on. You uncrossed your legs and spread them open, showing your panties to the camera before slowly hovering over the pillow. You’ve never humped anything before, so you waited for more guidance. You were his obedient little lamb, after all. You weren’t here to guess what to do.

‘Put your hands on your thighs, I wanna see those titties’

You bit your bottom lip. You thighs felt like they were on fire with the warmth coming from between them.

‘Drag your pretty pussy forward on that pillow’

Every filthy spit that Kai did on the p’s, made you feel indecent. You felt lighter in your chest like you were doing something wrong obeying him so quietly.

‘And backwards’

You dragged your clothed pussy against the pillow. After a few minutes of being soaked, and a week of waiting for his attention, even the minimal contact that the pillow provided felt amazing. The sensation of your clit being rubbed against the fabrics felt made your core feel hotter.

‘Imagine it’s my thigh, little lamb’

Kai’s dirty words lingered with you. You could feel his eyes on you though they weren’t there. You felt as though he was in the room with you. You closed your eyes and pictured straddling his lap, while he sits at his chair in his office. The two of you behind closed doors. The peak of the pillow rubbing your clit like it was his firm clothed thigh.

‘Picture my hands on your pretty little thighs, guiding you’

You humped your pillow in repetitive rhythm, pushing down further against the pillow for more contact. Your mind wandered to Kai’s hands on your hips earlier today, pushing you forwards and backwards on his lap as you hump his thigh.

‘Daddy needs to trust you that you won’t let loose too quickly’

You dropped your head as you whimpered at the feeling, desperate to focus on his words but not being able to stop rubbing yourself against the pillow.

‘We wouldn’t want that to happen again, would we?’

Your face turns completely red in embarrassment at his degradation. An awkward giggle slips out of you.

‘I can feel how wet you are through my pants, angel’

You thrust against the pillow, frustrated whines spilling past your lips at the feeling. You didn’t just want more, you needed more. Thrusting against the pillow peak made your pussy pulse. The maddening rhythm only causing you to soak through your underwear but didn’t give you enough to bring you closer to the edge.

‘I can feel your little clit pulsating on my thigh, you filthy girl’

The lewd nickname made you audibly moan. You stick your hands out in front of you, to have more balance to drag your burning pussy against the pillow with as much raw desire as you have in you.

‘Now, I’m gonna count to three’

You whimper out a sound of desperation, knowing that despite dripping arousal, you couldn’t cum from this little contact. You wanted to, believe me, you tried. But the pillow wasn’t enough. You humped the pillow with your thighs closer together, hoping for a harsher rub.

‘And on three, you will stop moving completely’

You have to force your eyes open. You look down at the pillow, seeing the wet stain on the grey pillowcase. Your thighs moved themselves. You didn’t want to stop.

‘I’m not there to enforce it, but I know you’re obedient’

“Daddy”. The breathy whine sounded like a child in timeout. You weren’t ready to stop. You looked forward at the audio file that only had 30 seconds left. Your pussy felt on fire with how quickly you humped. “I don’t wanna”, you complained. Tears prickled your eyes at how desperately horny you were. Your panties were drenched but you had to stop.

‘Three’

“Nooo”, you cry out.

‘Two’

You pressed down on the pillow as hard as you could, jittering forward and backward.

‘And, one, stop’

You straightened your knees up, now almost on all fours, with your pussy still squirming, jiggering forwards in aftershocks but with no contact on the pillow. Your thighs clenched together, bringing no satisfaction.

‘Good girl’, Kai praised on the video, with not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. You stayed on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath. His praise tingled at your tired thighs.

You sat down on your bed slowly, the feeling of the cool sheets on your wet core making you shiver.

‘I think you earned something, hm?’, his lustful mysterious voice teases. ‘Go on Omegle and type in your name, I’ll be waiting’

The audio file finishes and goes back to the beginning.

“Huh?”, you exhale in surprise. You turn off recording on your phone and watch it save.

You hadn’t gone on Omegle in years, but you type in the website and click on it. Kai must’ve figured that to be the only way for the two of you to video call without having any traces.

You type in your first and last name in the common interests. The video takes a few seconds to buffer, and before you know it, there is your distracted math teacher, clearly looking at a different screen on his desk. It was so weird seeing him in ordinary clothes. A plain black tshirt.

You timidly waved at the screen to get his attention. He looked at you and smiled. He pulled down his gaming mic closer to him.

“I’m your teacher… it’s my job to help you with your struggles”, he spoke quietly. “Have you learned which way is vertical?”

You suck in your bottom lip and nod.

“Very good”, he praises. He looks at you closely, the screen just ending before he can see your tits. He looks down at the bottom of the screen, as if he can see through you.

“And have you learned to control yourself?”

You awkwardly exhale in embarrassment. It was different to hear his sexy voice and to see him talk to you. You bite your lip to hide your nervous smile and nod again.

“Well then”, he leans back. “I guess you deserve a treat”

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

let me know if you want to be added or removed, i won't have an issue i promise :3

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can you tell I like leaving open endings?? haha

#ahs #american horror story #ahs cult #american horror story cult #ahs smut #american horror story smut #kai anderson #kai anderson x #kai anderson x reader #teacher kai anderson #evan peters character #kai anderson smut #mrs march season 2 #i really hope you enjoyed #feedback so incredibly welcome #please

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starry-skies-116 · 2 years

Text

Respite of a Distant Dream (FNAF AU FANFIC):

…Sniff… sob… hic…

“...Eh…?”

Gregory, disoriented, cranes his neck towards the slivers of light peeking out through from the ballpit his body was cradled under, nestled in. The weight, unsurprisingly, wasn’t crushing or suffocating- a result of his unique nature, perhaps, he assumed.

It was strange… one moment his Fazerblaster and Fazcam were entirely out of charge, and several of those stupid security S.T.A.F.F. bots were rolling right in his direction. He had already imagined the blaring glow of the flashlight in his face and the deafening shriek of the electronic synth within its voicebox- preferring not to have his life flash before his eyes, he ducked under the ballpit to hide until quite a bit of time passed and…

Somehow he ended up here.

The brunette pokes a hand out and is met with the bright, fluorescent lights from above that make him grunt and turn his head away, eyes locked in a squint as he steadily rises from the fetal position he lay in. The light scatters across his body, coupled with the golden rays of the sun filtering through the thick panes of framed glass that were the windows. He couldn’t help but smile, as he found the warmth prickling across his skin comforting… the sensation a familiar one.

Wait. Familiar.

The smile instantly dissipates from his face as quickly as it came. Gregory’s gaze finds itself darting around the room as he stumbles out of the ballpit only to fall face first into the carpeted linoleum floor below. “Uf-!”

Dark navy linoleum floors, patterned with specks of colour so bright it almost appeared black instead..

He grows more panicked and confused the more sights and sounds, smells and memories return to him, breaths sharp and shallow.

Painted grey drywalls striped with shades of translucent black and white.

Colored light projectors that illuminated the center stage, still somehow working. And the center stage… constructed of wood and metal so many other construction supplies.

Endless posters of anthromorphic mascots with black and violet accessories, purple bowties dotted with stars as golden as their matted fur.

Neat tables with white cloth draped over them, decorated with the same multicolored confetti that adorned the floor beneath him- party streamers and balloon bouquets that adorned said tables, shining underneath the white light at maximum hum-buzz above him.

More emotions once lingering in the back of his mind blared in Gregory’s face like a foghorn.

Hysteria. Desperation.

A primal, bone-deep fear that drove him from the core within- as though even his atman from within were afraid and visceral and driven to panic before red met white and yellow- before machinery met skin.

Before the world-ending pain and the screams of horror and despair below him vaporized the oceans, quelling the thunder, stopping the flow of time itself as it tore heaven and earth asunder to nothing more than smithereens.

The boy shudders- he can still recall what came afterwards as he glances to the animatronics onstage- Fredbear and Springbonnie, strangely still there onstage and turned off, judging by their limp bodies. Their machinery, pristine and not rusted in the slightest, shimmering like the unsettling matrices of springlocks and metal that laid within.

…

He still remembered the sickening feeling of absolute weightlessness that would’ve made him vomit if he could- the infinite colours and specks of starlight and incomprehensible vastness encapsulating him as he hugged his plushies close to his chest. He remembered the soul from within tearing itself apart- the light and vacuum and the chaos as his body split- as he was broken apart into two before the twisted cycle of reincarnation that awaited him at the end.

Heavy darkness, the agonizing roar of cracking glass reflecting every memory he’s ever had as time moved backwards and forwards simultaneously, showing him dreams of the past he wanted to chase after and the futures that never were- flashes of light encapsulating color in it’s brilliance. The colors invert- everything is shuddering, earthquaking. The chaotic stillness of the static grows so loud his ears begin to pound with sheer, unbearable pain.

Velvety wings of pure and seraphic radiance flutter around him, whispering to him, urging him, beckoning him.

He falls and flies through darkness and light. The air around him is ice and fire at the same time, burning his lungs and setting the universe ablaze.

The lights and colors flicker and invert, on and off, on and off. On and off again before a brutal slam into the earth below and eternal darkness before yet another crude and untimely reawakening as his surroundings crumble to nothing.

Every pore of his being pulsates with power and desire, love and grief so powerful it transcends him and overflows him- every atom, every particle of his body finds itself begging to live, even if his cries for help were sucked into a vaccuum with no one to hear.

Alight with ambitions and sheer will, his body shatters and lights itself aflame with wings the colour of an enveloped, celestial majesty- white and gold like the intricate wings of a butterfly: he, the butterfly. He burns brighter than the stars, only the light never flickers out.

It endures- growing and changing in color and size, but it shall forever endure.

…

And yet… on this sunny spring afternoon inside Fredbear’s Family Diner…

Was this before…? Was this the past?

Gregory haphazardly turns his neck, glancing to the calendar nearby:

February 23rd, 1983.

Oh, yeah- this definitely was his past life. The fact was further solidified by the way his Fazwatch was glitching and fizzling out, practically non-functional at this point due to how the screen was filled with nothing but chromatic effects and excess static. The muscles in his chest tightened, a pit in his heart- he didn’t even get to say goodbye to Freddy, he realizes. The animatronic bear must be going bonkers over his whereabouts the longer he lingered here.

…Sniff… hic…

Ah, right. Yes. There were those crying noises again.

Gregory stumbles back up to his feet, his ability to walk just barely impaired momentarily before he regained his footing. Creeping towards the nearby table, he could hear the sobs getting louder- a child was crying underneath the table, he realized. His heart tightens even further as he remembers the past.

That was the same table he would always hide and cry under every time he came here.

Hesitant and reluctant, every step brings him closer against his better judgement before a hand flips up the tablecloth and he ducks his head to peek underneath…

A brunette boy with a grey turtleneck underneath a black shirt with two stripes across the middle, alongside blue shorts and brown laced sneakers shoots their head up at him. “Wah-! Who’s there!?” he sharply yells, and is then that their gazes meet.

Their eyes lock.

Both of their eyes, sharing youthful features- large, gentle eyes, lacking pupils and compound- dark eyes that faded to a bronze and coffee shade of brown, then to copper and gold the higher up one looked up the iris. Eyes glimmering with light, the other’s reflected through tears. The face- high cheekbones and full cheeks complementing soft features- a pale complexion tinged with an apricot blush here and there, a button nose and petal, roseate lips- an appearance that paired impeccably well with their equally, almost identically petite, short and demure-appearing bodies.

Both of their lips part, eyes glimmering, wide and awestruck as if the two were stuck in a trance of sorts.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Finally, Gregory finds himself breaking the silence between them. “Hey…” he reaches out to touch the kid’s shoulder, careful not to make him flinch. For some reason, he finds his voice more smooth and nectarous with a gentle, genuinely kind and empathetic tone- a stark contrast to the brash and assertive exterior he had constructed over his years in solitude upon his awakening. “Are you… alright? I heard you crying earlier,” he asks, and he is somewhat relieved when he sees the other boy’s brows unscrunch- his eyes relaxing, his muscles loosening up. His voice must be soothing him, so Gregory continues: “Did something happen?”

The black-shirt boy, the reflection of the brunette, sighs and sniffles in response. “Yes… but it’s alright,” he rasps out, voice thick in a British accent. “They’re gone- at least, for now…” he murmurs- his voice is equally as silvery and pleasant minus the shakiness and the thickness from the tears. Gregory freezes.

So this was… him? This is when I was… Evan?

His ribs seize, ice spiderwebbing across his chest through miniature cracks in the imaginary permafrost that gripped his lungs with an iron hold. So, then… if he finds out about my true nature as the vessel and the reincarnation, that will mean… no.

No, he cannot find out no matter what. He can’t.

Evan tilts his head, curiosity evident in his expression. “Oh… I’m sorry- were they picking on you too?” he asks, intrigue and empathy evident in his voice. “It’s alright- you can share my hiding spot if you want to… for when they come back.”

The dark chestnut-haired brunette can’t help but smile- such generosity should not be so freely given, he muses to himself. “That’s kind of you. Thank you… but I think it is safe for us to come out now- whoever they are, they’re probably long gone,” he expresses, crawling out from underneath the table and rising to his feet as he beckons the once-crying child to come out. “It’s okay. Come. I’ll protect you in case anything bad happens.”

His heart felt warm and satisfied once Evan smiled back, reassured, and mustered up the courage to take Gregory’s hand and get back up onto his feet- any glimpse of tears on his lashes were all but gone now. The last promise was an oath, Gregory knew, to his past life- his other self.

I’ll protect you.

Evan gave a light whimper as Gregory glanced to him, finding his gaze glued on the animatronics onstage. “The animatronics onstage are so creepy…!” he hisses through clenched teeth, cradling his Fredbear plush tighter to his chest. Strangely enough, it prompted Gregory to subconsciously touch his own with fingers that just barely ghosted over the fabric of his shirt. Evan continues going off on a frustration-fueled mini-tangent: “I try to tell the other kids about this, but they all just laugh at me and call me a scaredy-cat and a crybaby. Why doesn’t anyone believe me…?” he whispers.

Gregory nods in acknowledgement and agreement- just seeing the jaws of Fredbear resurfaces bad memories of that fated day from the depths of his mind. His hand snakes up to subconsciously stroke a line along his throat before it falls back to his side again. “Agreed. I can see why you’re so scared of this, ah- Fredbear character- it’s the jaw, isn’t it? It looks almost as though it can bite someone’s head off- not to give you such imagery so unintentionally. This thing can’t harm you now, at least.”

Evan nods eagerly, clearly delighted and somewhat glad a presence was next to him other than his plushie. “Finally!” he exclaims jovially- his smile always shone like the sun. “Someone agrees with me… I’m glad I’m not the only one with an opinion around here,” he witfully comments. “Does that mean you like plushies, too?”

Oh, his heart.

“Oh, nooooo, get outta here!” the blue-shirt boy croons playfully. “I love plushies! They’re so soft and cute- how could anyone not like them! They’re simply delightful!”

The other’s eyes widen in utter delight. “Did we just become best friends?” he practically squeals out before the two boys fall over laughing on each other- their hearts relax, and they feel warm from the inside out just from the interaction. “I would be inclined to think so,” Gregory expresses before he rather formally extends a hand out. “I’m Gregory. It’s good to finally meet you, Evan.”

Once again, the black-shirt boy’s brows crease in intrigue. “What do you mean by ‘finally’? And… more importantly, when did I tell you my name?”

Crud.

“I, ah-”

“Oy! Crybaby!”

Evan immediately lets out a shrill yelp of terror and hides behind Gregory. “They’re back! Whatever should we do!” he squeaks, British accent amplified with panic and visceral fear. Gregory, without hesitation, expands his body and shifts his weight so that he shields Evan- his being fills with disdain at the sight of four figures with masks on their faces- Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and… Foxy.

Andrew, Elijah, Dorothy and Michael.

Michael Afton, his older brother. Gregory thins his lips to hide the heartache.

“What are you delinquents doing here?” Gregory demands tersely, tone as deep and intimidating as he could go. The bully with the Bonnie Mask, Elijah, removes his mask and slides it to the side of his head, prompting the others to do the same. “Wait… there’s two of them, now?” the tan-skinned boy asked, prompting the curly, raven-haired girl to grimace in disgust. “Yuck,” she grumbles. “Talk about a nightmare.”

“Oh?” Gregory finds the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and his eyes narrow, expression locked into that of monotonous boredom. “Do enlighten me as to how our presence displeases you- when we were minding our own business, no less.”

Surprise etches itself across their faces, and the boy in the blue and white-striped shirt hums quietly to himself in pleasure. Good- let them be bewildered.

“Well, well,” Elijah growls, stalking closer to the two. “Didn’t know you could bite back, bud. Wanna tell me why you two look so similar?” he croons, leaning in closer to make direct eye contact with Gregory, his ashen charcoal grey eyes meeting twilight dark, inky ones, shimmering with the light of countless stars like the secrets of the world were harbored within them- eyes that blazed with specks of gold and copper and bronze, of steely determination and fury- the will to stand one’s ground.

Have faith.

He cranes his neck inquisitively in that unique, scrutinizing manner of his- whilst Evan’s eyes remained wide and fearful, Gregory was steadfast, glaring at those who would dare cross him. Oh, the latter muses. If only you knew how much better you’d look when you’re brave. He glances the towering figure above him up and down, nonchalant, not amused in the slightest. “I daresay you’ve heard of a common phenomenon called a coincidence?” he calmly retorts, and the others gasp as if it were a personal offense.

Teenagers truly are overdramatic in this time.

“How cute,” Andrew finally sneers. “But we’re not here for you, small fry- we’re here for the snitch behind you,” he finishes, shoving Gregory’s petite figure haphazardly towards Michael. “Hey!” the chesnut-haired brunette exclaims in protest as his eyes widen- his gaze cast itself into his brother’s eyes, the other’s eyes- the colour of clear spring skies and an endless blue ocean basking in the warmth of a white-hot summer in glistening, sun-lit currents and the foamy whitecaps of waves.

The trance was rudely cut off by the sudden death grip on his ear from Michael’s hand. “Ow, what in the- ow ow ow! Stop it- not so tight!” he exclaims, swatting at Michael’s hand only for the pinching fingers to grow tighter on his lobe. Meanwhile, Evan, poor and sweet Evan, eyes wide and shaking and transfixed on the vessel has the fabric of his shirt pulled on haphazardly as he is lifted off the ground. “Ungh-!” he hisses as a grunt escapes his mouth, Elijah picking the black-shirt boy off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

“Unhand Gregory! He didn’t do anything!” Evan cries in protest, the others giggling at the way his lithe legs dangling off the ground kicked and flailed in such a pathetic manner. “We’ll stop when you tell us why you ratted us out to your daddy the other day, idiot,” Elijah spits back, to which tears coalesce within the petite boy’s eyes.

Wait- huh? I told on Mikey?

“Oh, pardon me- perhaps you’ve forgotten I’m still here,” Gregory comments as obnoxiously and as sarcastically as he can on purpose. “Maybe you’ve also forgotten that I both require and demand CONTEXT for matters such as these!”

“I never wanted to tell on you or get you in trouble!” Evan sobs, damn-near on the verge of hysterics, and anger swells within the other’s heart. “Mikey came home looking unhealthy and pale and reeking of alcohol! I just knew he went out drinking with his friends- you guys! I had to tell Dad before it got out of hand!” he exclaims, and the bold one silently commends him for his kindness and sensibility.

We were always the type of shoulder anyone could cry on… but we’d also cry alongside the person.

“That’s no excuse, you big wimp,” Michael ridicules, spitting out the word ‘wimp’ like venom as it bloomed in the air like a lit match exuding smoke and flares. “You got me grounded- and here you are, talking with a random stranger as if none of what you did ever happened! I bet he won’t even want to be friends with you after this- this is exactly why everyone hates you!”

Amazing- every word of what you have just said was wrong. Time to put someone in their place, I guess.

Gregory doesn’t even realize he growled the words with an echoing and booming authority until the entire room freezes and all eyes are boring into him: “Michael Terrence Afton, you take back what you said right NOW and watch your damn WORDS towards your younger brother.”

His blood flows through his body like liquid blue lava and flame, his eyes are alight and ignited like twin supernovas from the brightest and largest of suns as his fists clench with nothing but pure, unadulterated rage, perhaps fueled a tad bit by overprotectiveness. Evan glances at him, terrified and awestruck, eyes glimmering with the stars of every emotion on the spectrum in the universe. Michael gradually loosens his grip on Gregory’s ear before finally fully letting go.

“Dude…” Andrew comments to Michael. “How did this random kid know your full name…!”

Again. Crud.

The eyes of the masked tormentors bore into him, angry and shocked and very well ready to interrogate him. Gregory lets a deep sigh exhale through his nose and mouth before his muscles slightly relax and release some of the tension his servos- his muscles had been building up. “The same goes for you three accompanying him as well,” he commands, his normally demure and silvery voice coming out like lightning crackling across the sky, the thunder shaking the tumultuous heavens merely a second after. “One of these days you will realize the error of your ways, and when that happens, you can only hope that he shall forgive you.”

His gaze meets Evan’s- those large, gentle eyes he shared with him, and his stare softens, promising comfort and protection because he meant it and he was deprived of those things because the boy in front of him was the same as him and he was blissfully unaware.

Neither was he aware of the grisly first fate he was about to meet, nor did he know what would come after.

“Come follow me, Evan- let’s get out of here: clearly there is no negotiating with this particular group of imbeciles,” he bluntly expresses, and the four teenagers look offended and clearly shocked, much to his satisfaction. Good- I’ve left an impression on them. Let them remember this particular moment for a long time.

As their footsteps clack against the carpeted linoleum floors of Fredbear’s Family Diner, Gregory smiles warmly to himself, the path back to home still blazing alight and crystalline clear in his mind, Evan’s hand clasping his- truly in this moment does he feel unbroken- empowered and untouchable. He glances to Evan and wonders if he feels the same- or at the very least, comforted and safe- just to be sure, he squeezes the other boy’s hand encouragingly as he guides themselves back to home.

To their home.

***

“That little…!” Michael growls, still clearly bewildered from the incident last time. This wasn’t supposed to happen today- he planned on confronting his crybaby little brother about him snitching on Father, then all of a sudden he finds him talking to a boy in a dark blue shirt with two thin white stripes across the chest alongside cargo shorts, a white collar T-shirt underneath, and a pair of white and red sneakers worn with white socks- an outfit that bore striking resemblance to Evan’s own black and white-striped T-shirt and blue shorts, save for the grey turtleneck Evan wore underneath.

But the outfit wasn’t all- the moment this kid turned to look at him was the moment he got a proper look at his facial features- and by god, did he look way too similar to Evan.

The eyes- lacking pupils, only a gradient shade of dark brown reflecting light in them- large, curved and gentle in shape. The skin- a pale complexion tinged with an apricot blush here and there. Their face- soft, demure and youthful features, accentuated by high cheekbones, full cheeks, a button nose and roseate, plump petal lips- the things that made Evan uniquely Evan were now on the face of another stranger that seemed to fit him perfectly.

EVERYTHING, down to the dark chestnut hair styled in strikingly similar haircuts, their bangs framing their face and falling between their eyes- their age and petite, lithe and short stature, height and physical structure- even the somehow always perfectly trimmed damn eyebrows, sufficiently and perfectly thick and proper.

It was almost as though they were identical twins.

“Who was that kid!?” Andrew exclaims, equally as surprised as him. “We should find him the next time he’s with your brat brother and interrogate him!”

Michael nods. ¨Uh-huh! Bastard even knew my full name and I didn´t even tell him!¨ he exclaims- he still remembers the moment time froze and his heart skipped a beat when he heard a stranger utter his full name out of his mouth- a kid, no less, sharply admonishing and threatening him with the most amount of authority and decisive command he had ever heard a kid muster in a single sentence.

Unsettling, he thinks with a shudder.

Dorothy tilts her head, examining the main entrance doors which the pair had left out of- she wasn’t even trying to act cool or levelheaded in the aftermath of such an unexpected event. “Must admit, though- the kid’s got balls. A whole lotta balls for his age,” she mumbles, before Elijah interjects: “And no one’s going to talk about how that brat looks WAY too similar to your brother, Michael?” he asks.

“Oh,” Michael grumbles. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

“We have to get more information on that kid- we’ve literally NEVER seen him around the neighborhood before, and everything about him screams red flags everywhere,” Dorothy suggests, clearly intent on getting dirt on the kid. “His name… was Gregory, wasn it? Evan called him that. He’s probably just arrived here from lord-knows-where- so far, he’s an enigma- no past, no previous whereabouts, no nothing- he’s only just now coming in here and sticking around your brother like some superhero.”

No nothing. It’s as though the kid’s- a ghost.

Andrew sighs. “So, you’re suggesting that we spy on the two idiots?” he asks.

Michael nods in agreement- even more strange, he can’t help but shake the feeling that the kid is… familiar, somehow. “There’s something up with that kid, and we´re going to find out what,” he promises.

And my god, did he mean it, because they were most certainly NOT hallucinating.

They all knew from the moment they encountered the enigma named Gregory- there is more going on here than they realize.

______________________________________________________________

¨So…” Evan asked, a curious gaze peeking back into Gregory´s own eyes- they had been walking in silence for merely a minute or two. ¨Do you enjoy coming to Fredbear´s Family Diner as well? The place my Uncle Henry and my Father own, I mean.¨

Gregory tightened his lips- the place their Uncle Henry and their Father owned. Their childhood- their family, their happiness before tragedy ripped everything away from him and left him to drift in between now and eternity before his awakening. He had to restrain himself from correcting the boy who´s grip intertwined snugly with his hand before yet another exhale of breath left him.

¨…You could call it my happy place, of sorts,¨ he replies simply, to which Evan nods and responds meekly, appearing pleased to be in the presence of a kindred spirit: ¨I love to go there, too- I walk down to there along this same path with my brother every so often. It´s a wonderful place… minus the animatronics and the sensory overloads at birthday parties, of course,¨ he chuckles to himself before his eyes cast themselves towards the sky in thought. ¨I´m supposed to have my birthday there, Dad says… oh, yeah- speaking of which- when is your birthday?¨

The answer is simple and blatantly correct, for any other date feels wrong on his lips: ¨March 13th.¨

The eyes of the boy in the black shirt widen, and he squeezes the arm of his Fredbear plushie that was dangling at his side. ¨Well, wonders never cease! It appears we share the same birthday… and most likely the same age, judging by your physical appearance. Couple that with how you knew the names of me and my brother, and how you look so alike to me. How strange…¨

¨Yeah,¨ Gregory replies tersely, body tensing up as the truth reminds itself to him in his mind. ¨What an odd coincidence, indeed…¨ he is grateful when Evan senses his apprehension and quickly changes the subject of their conversation: ¨Anyhow, you have my gratitude for diffusing the situation back at Fredbear´s. My brother and his friends would´ve pummeled me into a pulp for sure had you not been there,” he expresses.

“Hah, it was nothing,” the blue-shirt boy reassures. “M- your brother and his friends are simply halfwitted teenagers- nothing more, nothing less. They’re the type to be placated from their hormones with a slap to reality. In the face, preferably,” he quips, to which he chuckles when he sees Evan terrified at the thought. “Why do you look so shocked? I was only kidding!”

Relief floods the other boy’s body.

“For defending me so selflessly, though,” Evan continues. “I feel as though I owe you something…¨

Oh no.

¨O-oh- you misunderstand-¨ Gregory begins, only for Evan to finish before he could speak. ¨Let me introduce you to my family. I´m sure they´ll like a good-of-heart person like you- we could all be friends!¨ he exclaims, and Gregory´s already breaking out into a nervous sweat because oh my god what if they suspect me the moment they see me.

¨Is it really worth all the trouble?” he asks, only for Evan to vehemently shake his head, grabbing him by the wrist where his now-dysfunctional Fazwatch lay snugly attached. ¨Oh, come now, don´t be ridiculous- as I´ve said before, they´re going to love you! Especially Elizabeth! Don´t concern yourself with Michael, though- it takes some time for him to warm up to new people, but I´ve a feeling you two are going to get along incredibly well once amends are made!¨

Me and Michael. Me and my brother- our big brother. Best friends, forever intertwined with one another and always together like a team.

Family, like we were, and like we always should have been.

His heart yearns for the distant past as he seals his fate in stone and utters his final answer: “Of course… things change with time, after all. I’d… actually be very happy to be introduced to the rest of your family- thank you, Evan.”

Evan. Evan Afton. The name fell so gracefully from his lips, as though the name were his own. As though he were talking to himself because he was.

Once again, the smile that shone bright like countless stars in his glimmering, nebulous eyes shone down on him, basking him in warmth like the afternoon sun did to them. “You’re welcome, Gregory- it’s the least I can do for my new friend. Now, come on! What are we waiting for, standing here so idly like this!” he exclaims, dragging the chesnut-haired brunette by the wrist.

Both of them run along the cream-white pavement of the sidewalk, the crisp wind of spring cradled by the sun and pumping through their lungs, beating in their pulsating hearts ever-strong- magical and warm and thrumming with energy and life. They laugh- a sound so jovial and musical Gregory’s ribs stretch with happiness and fond affection and a solemn oath to take care of and protect the boy before him- the brunette, gentle-eyed and kind, all-loving boy leading him to the sufficiently large and homely family house in the nearing distance.

A promise to fix the broken- to reclaim what was theirs, to feel complete and happy and satisfied again.

Within this sliver of time, he no longer felt like the shadows they cast beneath them- caught adrift between now and oblivion, soul on fire within crushing nonexistence whilst the backdrop of the ever-changing world carried on.

For the first time in a long time, encapsulated and illuminated within this dream-come-to-life… Gregory feels alive. His mind flashes back to the time of his awakening- the euphoria, the desire, the influx of five senses and the joyful realization that he can see and feel and touch and taste and hear and talk and that he was conscious and a living, breathing thing once more.

The mantra is alight, ablaze in his mind: no longer a lie.

I am alive.

______________________________________________________________

The pounding in his chest grows faster the closer he and Evan walk towards the smooth wooden door of their home, a dark and mellow shade of sea green decorated with a golden doorknob- just like how he would remember it.

The sight he would come home to every day after school.

Evan grips the doorknob as soon both of them arrive on the front porch, both of them taking off their shoes at the front door and leaving them on the left side of the welcome mat in front of the door- a customary tradition. Shimmering brown, gradient eyes meet his own. ¨Dad, Mumma and Elizabeth are home right now. Are you ready to meet them? They´re all going to love you, trust me!¨

I’m ready to reunite with my family again.

He had to swallow back the bile in his throat, restrain the tears from falling from his eyes and give the blissfully oblivious boy before him a nod of affirmation. “I’m ready.”

The door creaks open with a small, barely audible groan- the smell of home hits him, not that Gregory could describe what it smelled like as the nostalgia hit him like an overpowering, intoxicating tsunami’s wave. Pale grey-blue and sometimes pear green walls complimenting dark carpet meet him as he walks into the living room barefoot, his toes gracing the frigid kiss of the wooden plank floor beneath him- he swears his throat begins to hurt after swallowing a choked noise of a multitude of emotions.

The dreams that I’ve chased- the memories I’ve longed for lie within here, the brunette thinks to himself. Every emotion is tied to this particular house- joy and sorrow, grief and love, guilt and heartbreak… and all things in between.

His fingers fall slack- his lips thin together, his eyes darken.

My home.

The living room is exactly how he remembers it- his fingers tremble, eyes transfixed, locked deep into a stupor he didn’t wish to escape from. The couch, the television, the orange circular rug and the antique sun-shaped clock alongside the various family portraits hanging on the walls remain: even the bookshelves are present, presumably filled with photo albums, cookbooks and Elizabeth’s scrapbooks and more. Even the white ceramic vase with the iconic two blue stripes across the middle were filled with fresh, blooming red peonies. The arched entryway to the kitchen is where Evan’s gaze darts to.

“Mum! Dad! I made a new friend- come on out and meet Gregory!” he calls, to which noises of grownup curiosity could be heard, and two towering figures walk through the doorway. Gregory’s ribs are on the verge of fracturing- he’s looking at his parents.

His parents his parents his parents.

His mother, with her ginger hair that cascaded over her shoulders in shimmering, flawless waves like rich waterfalls. His mother, with her dainty toes that always performed that flawless ballerina dance- her gentle green eyes the shade of mint and chartreuse that twinkled when she laughed- the same as Elizabeth’s eyes. His mother, with her sunny, smooth voice that he got from her as well- his mother, with her strong, piano playing and excellently-cooking fingers, hugs that melted his heart- who made the best Sunday morning waffles and evening cookies. With her contagious, saccharine smile that set the world alight with joy.

His father, with his stoic facial expression and glacial, ice blue eyes akin to orbs of shining permafrost- his tall figure, thinning lips, strong jawline, sharp facial features and elegantly styled dark brown hair- something Gregory could always identify with him. His father, who always smelled comfortingly of engine oil and rusting machinery not too strong on his presence ever, somehow. His father, with his strong arms that would always lift him up as though he weighed nothing, Michael bearing strong resemblance to him in appearance. His father, who was always so patient, so eloquent and refined and unwavering, his polite serenity enduring even in the most tumultuous of circumstances.

Both of them who turned into monsters as this family, this wonderful little life fell apart.

His parents. His family.

“Well, hello, dear!” his mother- Mrs. Afton, expresses- Eleanor Clara Afton nee Schmidt, his mind unhelpfully supplies. She leans in, blinking once to get a closer look, doing her subconscious habit of tucking a lock of hair behind her ear- her voice carries a slight tinge of a British accent to it as well. “I haven’t seen you around our community before… and you bear striking resemblance to our Evan. How peculiar…”

Gregory politely nods in her direction, hands folded behind his back- his terse and apprehensive demeanor takes over, and he is sure there is a coy and demure expression on his face: the persona he puts on in front of strangers.

Except they aren’t strangers- they’re his family, encountering their son next to their actual son. Their youngest son in the form of a robotic, reincarnated vessel- the representation of the past, the product of tragedy.

He pushes that thought aside and smiles formally up at her. “Good to finally meet you, Mrs. Afton. Your son has said to me much praise of both you and your husband,” he states before he shifts his gaze from green eyes to blue ones. He bites his tongue inside for a moment to restrain himself from saying I missed you on accident. “And it is a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Mr. Afton.”

A small, momentary smile shifts to his father’s face- William Afton’s face. The small, barely noticeable and refined smirk, far from the elongated smile he would have as he would put on the Springbonnie costume. “The pleasure is all mine, Gregory,” he replies, the secondary name falling from his lips and riding alongside his deep, smooth and calculating voice. The last few words go unsaid by his mouth: you appear familiar.

Evan then makes a pleading face, doe-eyed at his parents- their parents. “Lizzy’s upstairs, right? Can me and Gregory go play with her, pretty please~?” he coos, and Mrs. Afton plants a firm kiss on her son’s cheek before lightly tugging on Gregory’s. The love seeps through the touch of her dainty fingers and perfectly manicured nails- the poor boy wishes he could lean into the warmth forever.

“Well, aren’t you two twice the amount of adorable when you’re together?” she jokes affectionately. “Of course- go on, your little sister’s been waiting all afternoon for you to play with her. She’ll be happy you brought a friend!”

Friend. My little sister. Me, ten: her, seven.

Elizabeth. Our little sister. Lizzy.

The vessel stands, feet firmly rooted into the living room’s planks, face stoic despite the sheer and utter heartbreak that threatened to spill over and burst the dam that was his composure. He stares at every single detail of the living room- the vintage clock, the gated archway to the kitchen, the staircase down the hall until his ribs crunch together and pulverize his heart, sending smithereens and shattered, powdery fragments of his missing everything everywhere, where a large, gaping hole remained.

Empty. I feel empty.

“Hey,” Evan calls, extending a hand out to him. “You coming, Greg?”

Greg. Why did the nickname make him smile so stupidly?

“Y-yes,” he stammers, tripping over his words unceremoniously before promptly following suit behind the boy in the black shirt. “I’m coming.”

______________________________________________________________

The faint fragrance of strawberry-scented shampoo hangs in the air as he and Evan ascend the staircase- the closest thing he could ever amount to a perfume on Elizabeth, since Father would never let her use real perfume, or apply her mother´s lipstick on her cheeks to mimic Circus Baby… or anything at all that involved makeup. She was too young, both Father and Mother had said.

She was too young for such a grisly fate as well.

He shakes the thought from his mind, plastering his friendliest smile on his face to see Elizabeth- her ginger hair, freckles and shining green eyes- the near-perfect copy of Mother, just like Michael with their father. She turns around, gaze brilliant and happy per usual as her glow lit up the room and warmed the hearts of the two boys present with her.

“Evan!” she cheerily exclaims, running towards the boy next to Gregory and tackling him in a hearty, tight bear hug as if she hadn’t seen him in years. Gregory feels the gaping maw in his heart grow and widen, burn with a nauseating ache that he swallows thickly like it was nonexistent saliva in a dry mouth and wet throat. Her gaze flicks to him. “Ah- who’s your new friend?” she asks, to which Gregory waves- meek and shy and pathetic, so unlike him.

“My name is Gregory- it’s nice to finally meet you. Elizabeth, isn’t it?” he says before he’s met with Elizabeth’s suspicious and scrutinizing gaze- nowhere near as anxiety-inducing or meticulously, flawlessly detail-probing as his nebulous, dark eyes, but it’s still enough to make him squirm a barely noticeable bit.

“You look like Big Brother Evan,” she observes, squinting at him deliberately in an exaggerated manner. “Way too similar- almost like identical twins.” She turns to the boy in the black shirt, her brother. “You sure this guy isn’t your long lost twin brother, or something?” his sister asks, and Gregory’s posture tightens awkwardly. Evan’s musical laugh echoes throughout the room: “He might as well be, with how well we’ve been getting along ever since we first met! He even defended me from Mikey and his friends!” he exclaims, to which Elizabeth gapes at him in awe. “Whoa… that’s, like, impossible- even for me! You deserve a Nobel Peace Prize or something for that- you’re like a superhero!” she exclaims.

The praise makes him all giddy inside, masking the heartache and devouring, gnawing sense of emptiness with hues of warmth. “Thank you- I can’t just stand by and watch while other people pick on one another,” Gregory says. “Defending your brother was the least I could do for him in the moment… I really do hate bullies.”

It was the least I could do for myself. For us.

Hopeful eyes shine up at him, unwavering with a adamant request: “Well, Gregory- you’re our friend now. And you deserve to play with me and Evan. I have dolls in the closet, and outfits we can play dress-up with. Whaddya’ say…?” Elizabeth croons, fair puppy eyes glimmering up at him. Evan glances to him, sharing his eyes, his gaze, with a knowing look. “I think you know where this is going, judging by the expression on her face,” he comments, and Gregory nods.

The pang of jealousy comes, followed by a shock of guilt. Jealousy of this almost-perfect family- shame at how he could think such things, as if he had committed the worst kind of betrayal.

He nods, exhaling at least half of the tension left in his veins. Still, he is wound up, looking for refuge, ready to burst.

“I would love to play with you.”

***

Strangely enough, his cheeks do not burn with the slightest bit of shame as Gregory twirls around in the frilly ballerina tutu, the fabric tissue-paper soft and a delicate shade of pastel pink. He takes an absurd amount of pride and flair in adjusting the fake tiara sitting atop his head. “How do I look?” he asks. Evan is sighing through his teeth with secondhand embarrassment, whilst Elizabeth is practically beaming with utter joy that was palpable in the aura around her.

“Is that even a question?” she cheers. “You look absolutely beau-ti-ful!” she sings the last word out, each syllable pronounced and stressed on the consonants. Evan, meanwhile, grimaces. “I still fail to understand why you would willingly put yourself through such humiliation,” he groans out, only for Elizabeth to blow a raspberry at him childishly. “Speak for yourself,” his younger sister retorts. “He’s a piece of art in this skirt.”

“Dinner’s ready!” his mother’s voice, bright and vocalizing, wafts from downstairs alongside the smell of something incredibly familiar and delicious.

Gregory’s mouth waters from the crevices of his jaw- he knows it’s stimulated. The ache and despair present within his chest that suck the breath out of his artificial lungs, however, isn’t.

Nostalgia and hunger together are a brutal combination, he learns. Still, he scrapes the bottom of the barrel for some strength to muster and keeps a straight face whilst Elizabeth and Evan have wide grins etched across their faces, their gazes cast towards the ajar door of the room they were in. “Finallyyyyy!” the strawberry blonde drawls, a ravenous gleam in her eyes. “I’m STARVING.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice- I’d do ANYTHING for Mumma’s cooking after a long day,” Evan adds, and the two haul themselves off their chairs to catapult themselves down the stairs. Gregory remains hesitant, laying back despite the hole in his stomach and the cramp in his abdomen telling him to go eat.

It’s all simulated- a lie, he tells himself. You are nothing more than a machine- a reincarnation, a vessel.

And yet, their gazes turned to him, not forgetting about the extra presence in their almost-perfect household. As if he were important- as if he mattered.

How touching, indeed.

“You coming, Gregory?” Elizabeth calls, turning back around in a near-complete 180 and grabbing his wrist. “Mumma’s cooking is the best- I promise you, you need to try it at least once in your life!” she passionately declares, Evan nodding in agreement. Chartreuse orbs flecked with specks of jade and lime, and dark, nebulous eyes harboring stars of gold and copper stare deep into him: his own dark eyes blink, identical to the latter gazing intently and expectantly to his waiting figure.

Oh, crud. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He chides himself- he’s about ready to break down and cry. How rude of you to drag yourself into a predicament such as this! How could you lack foresight to this degree? Oh, whatever to do…?

“O-oh,” he stammers out. “I couldn’t possibly stay for dinner, that would be i-impolite, I… I should get going now, it’s getting late,” he excuses himself, glancing to the trickles of golden evening light falling through the window. It was getting late indeed- the warmth within the dimming afterglow slowly decreased in warmth with every second that lapsed. “It’s been fun, but if you’ll excuse me, I should probably get out of your hair now-”

“Nuh-uh! We’ll ask Daddy and Mummy, if that’s what you’re so scared about!” the jade-eyed girl firmly declares once more. “I have the best puppy-eyes in the entire world- they’ll be sure to say yes!” she boastfully assures, to which Evan dubiously raises an eyebrow. His eyes glimmer, beady and alight with a fascinated type of doubt. “Oh? And here the majority of the family was thinking that title rightfully belonged to me,” he muses, earning an exasperated glare from Elizabeth before the two broke out into a fit of playful giggles.

Grief swells through his heart once more- cold and unforgiving, merciless grief that ached throughout his body. He is not sure what hurts worse, seeing the innocence of his childhood unfold before his eyes- the shock of what happened, the sting of what came after… or the ache, the miserable longing for the past that was, and the future that never will be.

Yet there was no shame in grief, for he bore the greatest courage of all- the silent, fragile strength of a forever undying flame that burned away the regrets of the past into embers and emerged like a phoenix, born anew- transience and change and might incarnate.

He had the courage to suffer.

“Well…” Gregory breathes. “Since you asked so nicely… I suppose I could stay with you for a couple more hours.”

Enjoy some time with my family- with our family- before I depart and never see them again.

***

“Do your parents know you’re here, Gregory?” his mother asks, bright, curious eyes staring at him. Michael is now sitting with them at the dinner table- his shimmering, lapis-blue eyes bore into him, along with the rest of them at the dinner table. Evan’s curious, wide-eyed gaze is also on him, and the poor boy swears he feels sweat trickling in the slightest down his back.

Pull yourself together. Remember. They do not suspect anything.

“Yes,” he replies tersely, politely wiping the corners of his lips with a napkin- he doesn’t even know if they are stained with marinara sauce or not. “I notified them before going to Fredbear’s. I’m sure they don’t mind- they want me to make friends, so long as I am home before curfew.” The lie is elaborately crafted- he swears he can see sympathy flashing across Michael’s expression before it fades back into his signature scowl as quickly as it came. He adds to the illusion: “Forgive me if I’m too much of a hindrance, Mrs. Afton- I originally did not plan on staying for dinner, yet Evan and Elizabeth insisted.”

A chuckle escapes her lips- bright and painted, her voice mirthful and pleasant. “My, my- you must really like your new friend, don’t you?” she remarks, to which Elizabeth nods. “He’s so sweet and amazing- he’s really like Big Brother Evan!” the strawberry blonde exclaims passionately through a mouthful of food, to which Michael grimaces and his father- William- sighs calmly, reposeful demeanor unbroken like it always has been. “Elizabeth, chew and swallow before talking, please,” he instructs.

The mist of a creeping, dull sorrow seeps over Gregory’s being, and he doesn’t realize until later, when chill seeps through the cracks of his fractured everywhere. He forgot what it was like to be happy- to be normal. “Manners, Elizabeth!” Evan admonishes, to which Elizabeth rolls her eyes and swallows before huffing lightly. “But she’s right- me and Gregory do share a lot of likes and dislikes, Mumma. For example, did you know that we both like chocolate cake- extra dark?”

“That’s common,” Michael scoffs, to which a challenging glimmer makes its way into Evan’s gaze. “We both like plushies, and toys. And reading,” he contests.

All gazes turn back to Evan’s- Gregory’s muscles relax just a little bit.

“Oh, and did I mention that we like drawing and cartoons? And the color yellow? Ah- right… what else did me and Elizabeth learn about you… oh! We like the night sky, not to mention stargazing!” the dark-eyed brunette declares, to which Elizabeth sighs and dramatically puts her head in her folded hands. “Those two have been going on about some ‘upcoming celestial events’ rubbish for almost the entire time we were playing together…” she groans, British accent prominent. The blue-shirt boy finds a kindred gaze in Evan’s eyes- a look he shared.

“I… just love the stars, and how mesemerizing they are,” Gregory murmurs, eyes downcast to the tablecloth. “The sky… the universe… they remind us of how we change along with the world... how big the world is… makes you wonder if other worlds like ours exist as well. We were born from the stars, y’know? Their birth and death serve to remind us just how precious all life is,” the brunette muses before he realizes the presence of five pairs of eyes gazing intently upon him.

His face turns hot- he wills his face to go red via his implemented features programmed into him, and his eyes avert back down to the plate of pasta before him.

“A-ah, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent, there!” he exclaims, already slapping himself internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes train on every impossibly diminutive detail on the expressions of each of his family members- Michael looks suspicious of just how much he has in common with his so-called ‘loser’ of a little brother. William, his father, appears intrigued and slightly pleased. Eleanor, his mother, has her brows upturned and her mouth in a slight ‘O’ shape- an expression commonly associated with the emotion of surprise. Evan appears further excited to have made a new friend that almost appeared to share a brain with him, and Elizabeth has a knowing glint in her charming green eyes.

“You’re surprisingly articulate for a child around Evan’s age,” his father muses, minty, glacial eyes glistening with interest. The brunette boy in the black shirt nods enthusiastically in agreement: “Ah, yes- speaking of such things, Father- we’re both ten years old, and we both share the same birthday! We’re going to be turning eleven together- isn’t that simply wonderful?” he asks, to which Gregory gives a coy, light nod. “Yes… very, ah, nice! I’ll be sure to contact you around the day of our birthday- should we go to Fredbear’s together on that day?” he proposes. Needless to say, he’s surprised when Evan leans out of his chair and…

…and squishes him in a tight bear hug that warmed him up from the core.

“I’d love to! We’re going to be the greatest of friends from here on out!” he declares jovially, and laughter echoes across the room- even Michael smiles fondly despite the scoff he lets out, eyes sparkling with the sight of his brother so happy. Gregory suppresses the name on his lips. Mikey. Bubba. Big brother.

All the titles he couldn’t fall back on for his own fulfillment, instead settling for one last dinner with the ones he treasured most before being left to rot alone again, left with the abyss present inside him.

“Michael,” he calls out instead- gently as possible. “Will you be coming as well?”

The hurt in those blue eyes goes unnoticed by his younger brother, his past self- yet fail to remain undetected by him. “Psh. Whatever.”

Gregory remains tight-lipped whilst the rest of the table is plunged into lively and hearty conversation in between bites of their piping hot meals- an eternity of eye contact is made between the both of them, neither saying anything- and for a moment, it is as if that incident at Fredbear’s is irrelevant- no longer matters. The heavens and the universe, littered with countless stars and galaxies and dreams woven of gold and copper, love and heartbreak, are reflected in the blue, shimmering currents of the vast and endless ocean below, encapsulated in the silvery cradle of moonlight.

They both remain tight-lipped, countless thoughts running through their heads. Gregory can see exactly what his older brother is thinking, as if the thoughts are bright neon lights shaped into words, displayed on his forehead:

I can’t shake the feeling that you seem… familiar. Somehow.

______________________________________________________________

Above, eyes cast upward, a serenade of ancient celestial bodies and heaven displayed upon velvet black- stars of white bloomed in an ethereal glow, the moonlight basks him as the earth below bathes in the brilliant lunar light. Milky white and simultaneously coffee-dark clouds are wrapped, intertwined and smudged with each other- illuminated by the specks of light all around, it peers at the land below, unmoored.

The cosmos is reflected in Gregory’s weary gaze- lungs of stardust and air, soul of fire- hands of metal and earth, eyes of tears that glistened and fell like rain and dew. Every breath feels like a gulp of water, the wind’s ice nibbles his skin in a comforting embrace. The elysian grass of Utah, a lime yellow shade, dances elegantly in the wind below his feet, his steps lighter than the breeze itself- he opens his eyes wide and and finds the heavens smiling down upon him.

A soul remade anew. This is the treasured land that he walks once more.

Concealed in the lush canopies of the fir and pine forest, gazing at the glimmering, silver-cradled waters of the calm riverbank, spurs something tranquil within him. It is as though the scenery around him, bathed in fleeting dreams and quiet, unassuming wishes, is beckoning him to rest. Light and darkness in tandem is like stepping into something clear and light: the song of the wind made his ears tune out the noise, his eyes water and ache: the bright, coin-sized crescent of the moon in the sky and the bristling of the branches and leaves around Gregory made him wish to do nothing but sleep by the riverside.

Idiot, his mind scorns, and a pang of shame washes over him like the whitecaps of the beach’s waves. Have you not slumbered long enough? Life shall coddle you no more.

He catches himself gritting his teeth together, rubbing his thumb in restless, persistent circles against his index finger. He glances to the streetlights above the road he was near, fluorescent lights casting ghostly beams down into the smooth, obsidian-dark pavement.

Still nighttime. Whilst everyone sleeps cocooned in the comfort of a bed, I must make do with the world around me, he muses. Not that he minded, of course- he was once the earth and stars, just as everyone was- why should he have any right to complain?

Evan. The nightmares.

His smile vanishes from his face, every trace all but gone. His brows furrow, creased together in pain and empathy from deep within- his lips tighten, eyes darken, fists clench.

Pity. Those with courage and power need not any pity… nor do they desire such sentiments.

Evan… so lost and confused, just as he was. His other self, his past life… the boy carried potential and unrealizing strength within him- and yet he was scared. Every step he took, he doubted himself. Every articulate sentence he spoke, he would hesitate and refrain from expressing an opinion. Coyness was something he utterly despised- the absurd illusion of thinking that you are not in control of yourself- of your future… he wanted to crush that belief, burn it from his past life’s mind entirely until not even the ashes remained- the desire quivered so strong with fervent need that his hands utterly itched with it, every pore of his being alight with that anger.

The black-shirt boy must’ve been donning his cotton, silken-soft Fredbear pyjamas right about now- wanting to plunge into the blackest of blacks, shut off all the noise and silence all the colours and lights- let everything be sublimated in utter stillness so he could at last sleep.

Such memories were unpleasant to recall- every time his eyes closed, they would flutter- every creak of the floor, every rustle of the wind was too loud in his ears- the mechanical breathing outside his door would send him reeling, wide awake and shaking like a string pulled taut until dawn.

Don’t be afraid, he wanted to tell him. Don’t let the illusion of powerlessness overwhelm you.

After all… it’s not your fault.

Fault. Fault. Fault.

Guilt and blame are such perverse things to think about, such inappropriate things- the topic brought up is enough to make adults shudder and kids old enough to comprehend such topics sigh through clenched-together jaws- blame was sinful. Blame hurt people- incriminated them, ate away at their soul until some couldn’t live with themselves anymore. It morphs the image in the mirror into a disgusting, grotesque and hunched over creature if one is too unlucky.

Tragedy, grief and loss are just fancy words for being ripped to pieces- being hung out to dry, feeling every pore of agony course through your veins as sobs escape your throat, lost to the vacuum around you.

Was this just another way to remind someone that they still exist, that they’re still here? Gregory asks himself- his hands are cradled by the silver seraphim of dusk as he stares up at them, body now resting on the dry, flattened grass beneath him. Did pain only serve to remind you that you are alive- to not break you, but instead to construct you, forge you- create you anew?

And who was to blame for the loss… the catastrophe, the cataclysm that swept and eviscerated his entire world? Was it him, since on that fateful day… everything began with him? After the brutal cracking noise of a human skull and the dreaded sound of a flatline, he expected to see blackness- he expected the frigid embrace of oblivion, crushing nonexistence.

Yet he saw static instead.

In some twisted way, in a new body, his heart began to beat again- his soul split, empty and incomplete from inside- purpose faded and blurred in his mind, names on the tip of his tongue, future indecisively slipping between his fingers.

Gaping maws full of perfectly white square teeth, held together at the sides of their jaws by two metal rods.

White met red, and red consequently met gold, purple, black and blue.

Metal met skin, and it didn’t end well.

Did he love his family wrong…? He had noticed Elizabeth’s smiles were coming less and less with the passage of time- Michael was growing angrier, more resentful and snippy of some unknown force manipulating their lives when they were at their weakest of heart. His father, William, was growing colder and more brutally truthful, and his mother- more sick with worry and some sort of inexplicable force gnawing at her from within, like a chained jackal snapping at her achilles’ heel.

His heart continues to relentlessly drum. If only he hadn’t-

If only Father and Mother hadn’t-

If only Elizabeth had-

If only Michael hadn’t-

-What?

His eyes shoot wide. His palms unfurl, opening like a flower in bloom- he gazes at his trembling hands, fingers quivering and ever-so-slightly curled, hunched over.

“...What…?” he rasps out his thoughts, barely registers the way his mouth opens so the gargled word can escape the rusted gates of his closing throat.

Where did I… go wrong…?

The question echoes in his mind, cushioned by the pang of denial and longing and nostalgia. How did I fail…?

His eyes blink open and closed, restless.

Dawn never seems to come, so he finally slips into the endless space- the equally starlit place of his mind littered with specks of colour and light that partially let himself rest.

There in the grass, he stubbornly, grumpily decides, he shall lay… until morning comes.

Until tomorrow comes.

***

The afterimage of Gregory’s dreams blaze bright within his mind: the cosmos reflected in the gentle ripples of the water beneath, stillness around and above.

He remembered the sight of lotus flowers and lilypads scattered about, floating amidst the endless sea- butterflies, brightly colored wings that seemed to glow as bright as the stars, galaxies and nebulae speckled across the sky- the powder from their flapping wings shimmering a little before evaporating into nothingness once more.

The brunette craned his neck towards the sky and swore he could see the distant rumbling and flash of brilliant and yet soothing thunder across the sky, the lightning spiderwebbing through the darkness and myriad of celestial bodies. He looked to the right and left- he can see even more unfathomable sights before him- constellations, comets and meteor showers, fleeting moments of luminosity that he would never stop searching for: not to mention the faint image of countless moons and planets, one especially breathtaking, bearing resemblance to Saturn.

Transience and tranquility- certainly an unexpected duo, indeed.

Gregory’s heart still pounds, drool on his lips and a pit carved into his stomach like the inside of a clay pot when morning comes- the pale, early dawning light of a grey, cloudy day washing over him. The bitter cold touch of the air makes itself known to him, rousing him rather rudely from slumber. The monotone colors have seeped into the environment of reality, like overly blended and watered-down watercolor: the sky is a greyish shade of pale blue, bleached and deprived of vibrance, and the bark and leaves of the trees around him seem lifeless- eerily dormant.

He hauls himself up off the ground, taking some time to brush off the dry, wheat-yellow blades of grass and occasional specks of dirt off his clothing, picking a strange pebble off his short that was stuck to the fabric before haphazardly tossing it into the river- it skips a couple times before sinking to the shallow, clear depths beneath.

“Another day,” he whispers to himself. He glances down to his Fazwatch, which was now black, light scratches drawn across the screen- completely useless. Freddy must be bawling over his whereabouts as every minute spent here went by… however would he get out of here?

Then again… how I wish we could create a world without end. How I wish this dream would last forever.

He wanted to stay here forever… not that someone like him, with his beliefs, his ideals, his upbringing, could comprehend what forever was.

Eternity disgusted him.

And now the boy finds himself swimming in his own thoughts, eyes darting around the environment absentmindedly- observing the small specks of rust on the metal streetlights, the cobalt black paint chipping and falling away- barely noticeable by anyone else. His gaze falls downcast to his shoes- his red and white trainers, steady and rhythmically walking on the pavement towards one of the many neighborhoods in Hurricane, Utah- every step was slow, calculated, meticulous.

Step. Step. Step.

He only pauses every so often to watch the endless greenery on his left side, taking a muted fascination in the way ladybugs and caterpillars crawled and nestled into the hollow bells of flowers, the petals vibrant and velvet-soft.

On mornings like these, where clouds draped the sky and paled the light of the sun- where the silence was occasionally pierced by the song of chickadee and magpie birds… these were always mornings where Gregory could rest- where the headache of the everyday were all but gone. He missed these types of mornings, he realized- even though life back then was too busy, too swift and hectic for him to truly reminisce and reflect on.

His mind drifts with the wind- the wind that carries the voices of the monotonous, dull chanting, tracing the ups and downs of a song without melody- those haunting, otherworldly voices, guiding him through the inner storm, telling him something over and over again in a foreign language- the consonants sharp, the vowels short in some places, long in others. The cadence of their voices pierces his heart, makes his temples throb- and yet he understands the words, takes them to heart as if they were english.

You can do this. You must do this. It’s not your time yet.

What is broken can still be fixed.

He looks down to his hands. No way was this a twist of fate, or sheer coincidence… was he brought here for a reason? To fulfill his… their wishes? The wishes of his family and friends?

He looks up, revising his surroundings again. His legs desired further distance, itching to walk longer- and yet he had already reached the community of Hurricane, half a mile away from the forest where he slept. The brick-and-mortar houses lining the perfectly urban neighborhoods of the community were neatly arranged- a few spring blossoms grew on some of the trees, and intricately trimmed flower bushes and mostly verdant lawns decorated every residence. The faint shadow of Fredbear’s Family Diner loomed in the distance.

The familiarity weighed heavy in his heart- an arm snaked up to his chest, fingers lightly touching the fabric of his shirt. Should he walk to Fredbear’s once more? Perhaps-

“Gregory, there you are.”

A deep voice reached his ears, auditory sweetness and serenity incarnate that sounded all too familiar. Dark, pupil-less eyes met glacial blue ones.

“O-oh! M-Mister Afton! I… ah, ahem…” Gregory foolishly stumbles over his words in front of his father, William, clearing his throat as an excuse to buy more time, to gather his thoughts. “I certainly did not expect to run into you, again, here… l-lovely morning, isn’t it?”

Pathetically worded sentence.

Yet it was as though William was slowly turning into a different person around him, if he wasn’t hallucinating. His brow raises, curiosity piqued- curiosity directed towards him, he realizes- this is the first time his father was showing emotion. His posture relaxes, the change barely noticeable but not unnoticed- his broad shoulders and tall figure are unmistakable. “Come with me,” he beckons, voice still as calm and as pleasant as ever. “My family and I wish to speak with you.”

Dread strikes the younger boy’s heart. Did the man suspect something? “H…Have I done something wrong the other day?”

Amusement curls the corners of William’s lips into a small smile- his eyes ever so slightly widen in surprise. “Wh- no, of course not. You’re quite a well-behaved young man, as far as I know,” he replies, a bit thrown off by the question of the blue shirt-wearing boy before him. “We simply wish to speak with you regarding a… concerning matter.”

Concerning…?

Gregory can’t seem to shake the word choice as he reluctantly trails behind William, the step step step of his shoes echoing in his head as the man leads him towards the front porch containing the dark sea green door with the gold doorknob.

His home.

A moment of pondering befalls him…

I wonder… did fate bring me here? Or was it… mayhaps… his doing?

Some desires are so strong… they can even transcend lifetimes.

***

“Gregory… why didn’t you tell us that you’re homeless?”

The eyes of everyone except William’s widen at the dining table. Elizabeth practically lets out a horrified shriek, shrill and raspy in nature. “You’re… you’re homeless?!” she cries.

Well. He certainly did NOT expect this conversation to start this way. Nor did he anticipate the environment derailing this fast, even if his father tended to go straight to the point sometimes.

His gaze appears crestfallen- for some reason, shame turns his body into a figurative torch, the artificial blood within burning with shame. His circuitry heats up slightly, his wiring and internal components frazzle themselves a bit. Gregory gathers the courage to speak by inhaling the air- the scent of home.

“I… I’m sorry,” he finally forces out- the words are choked and come out ashen, crawling across an ocean to reach his throat and part ways with his lips. “I didn’t want you to worry, Mr. and Mrs. Afton.”

His mother, Eleanor, appeared incredulous, green eyes darkening with fury fueled by a protective sort of love. “Young man, what do you mean, ‘worry’? We have every right to worry!” she exclaims, placing a hand firmly against her chest. Her gaze pierces into Gregory, and he shrinks slightly underneath her imposing shadow- part of him knows the intent behind such reprimanding. Comfort and gratitude also trickle out from within him as she continues: “Thank god Elizabeth and Evan insisted you eat here- I know I wouldn’t have forgiven myself had we left you to starve out there on your own! And what of your parents? We should bring them here so they don’t starve either!”

His fists curl as he blurts out the response, cutting her off merely a second after she finished speaking: “My parents are dead. So are my siblings. I’m the only one left.”

The tension in the room grows exponentially- the air is dreadfully cold, like ice crawling up his limbs and rooting him to the spot. Evan and Elizabeth, the latter already bawling, wrap their arms around him in a tight, nigh-limb crushing hug- probably to prevent him from escaping, he muses to himself.

William exhales- softness and an emotion reminiscent to that of pity, of a shared sorrow appears on his face- a reaction Gregory had never seen before in his father. “Your lack of a record suggests that you were born into extreme poverty… correct?” he asks gently- his tone is careful, as if he’s walking on eggshells around him to not hurt his feelings. Gregory nods in confirmation: “Affirmative, sir.”

The formalities are killing him- and yet still, he feels the strongest need to keep it up.

He’s on the verge of crying at the half-truth uttered from his lips: “I… don’t have a family. Or friends. Or a home. I don’t have… anyone, now that I think about it. I’ve been alone up until now.”

The entire table shakes their heads- adamant on fulfilling his happiness, for some reason. “Not anymore!” Elizabeth declares- even Michael has a determined look in his eye despite his suspicions. “Daddy says we’re going to adopt you!”

Oh.

What the fuck.

Gregory, eyes wide, spins his gaze around so fast his neck nearly cracks- his glance lands on William. “M-Mr. Afton-!” he sputters out, to which William gives a genuine smile- the first one he had seen. “I did say that, yes,” the man confirms. “Elizabeth and my other two children thought I was initially joking- and I was, before I realized the, ah… truth about your upbringing.”

What.

“B-but-!”

William holds up a hand that signals the brunette, dark-eyed boy to relax. “Calm down, it will only be until you find a proper foster family to officially take you in. Raising three kids is already a handful for us,” he jokes dryly, only to receive a light smack in the shoulder from Eleanor. “Don’t listen to my husband,” she quips, casting a harsh glare to his father that only spurred a playful chuckle from him in return. “We’d be happy to adopt you permanently as one of our own if that’s what you want, dear.”

The boy is speechless- flabbergasted. He blinked once, twice- this was a dream, this had to be a dream. There was no way his family could accept him, a monster, the personification of the purpose he was created to be.

But then again: they have no idea, do they? You’re lying to them- they remain blissfully unaware of the truth.

“Thank you. Truly, I… thank you,” he chokes out. He doesn’t want the tears to come.

They would always call him crybaby.

Michael stands up. He has many reservations, Gregory can already tell from the incredulous look on his face: it’s alright, he didn’t exactly make an amicable first impression on his brother, after all. “Wait- so we’re really letting a stranger live in our home? Nobody else sees anything completely wrong with this?” he asks.

William shoots a light glare to him. “No buts, Michael. He’s staying with us from now on- we can’t ignore a person in need, much less an impoverished child.”

All the emotions in the world are flowing like a river of spiraling liquid flame as Gregory stares into Michael’s incredulous eyes, still smothered by Evan’s and Elizabeth’s rib-crushing hugs basically immobilizing him. “Don’t look at me like that,” he hisses before practically storming up the stairs. A few moments later, the slam- or better put, the slightly aggressive close of a door echoes throughout the house and William sighs. “That boy can’t be helped, honestly…” he murmurs before he turns to Gregory, a strangely amicable expression upon his face. “I hope our compassion will suffice for you, Gregory- enjoy your stay.”

“I will,” the brunette replies, day ten times brighter. “T-thank you so much!”

His heart shines with an all-encompassing fullness- everything he has pursued is finally somehow within his grasp.

Just how he wanted life to be. Perfect and normal.

***

**((To be continued in Chapter 2...))**

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