Chapter Text
As soon as Gregory tugged Evan past the threshold and shut the door behind them, the older child stood on his tip toes and peeked through the closed blinds that hung over the door's window.
"She's leaving," Evan assured. He didn't need to ask what Gregory was doing.
"Just making sure…" Gregory’s eyes narrowed as they tracked something through the window pane, presumably Elizabeth making her way back down the street.
Evan could have told Gregory that he didn't need to worry. There was no way Elizabeth had much interest in anything that didn't revolve around her or her interests, and the two of them were neither of those things.
"I don't trust it," Gregory continued. "You know what she's like in school– how she and her friends always gossip. She'll tell Michael where my house is."
The Afton blinked up at Gregory. He… hadn't thought that far ahead. Had been too distracted by how hard it was to breathe, the aching pounding through his limbs, the overwhelming and desperate need to get to his destination no matter what…
(He knew Gregory didn't really care about Liz or Michael knowing where he lived. Evan was the one who was always terrified of that. Ever since he met Gregory's kindhearted family, the Fazbear household had been the one place on Earth where Evan could relax without fear of being hurt or laughed at in one way or the other. It was the one place where his anxiety finally quieted down, and even if the anxiety never went away, he was never yelled at for it. Evan couldn't bear the thought of his family ruining that. There had been a few times when Michael had tried following the younger boys after school, not so much curious about where his brother was going but angered that Evan refused to tell him. Thanks to Gregory, though, they had managed to lose Michael every time.)
Evan didn't have much energy to spend wondering what Liz knowing where Gregory lived would mean. He was exhausted from a lot of things– not just from the agonizingly long walk to his friend's house– and was more focused on the fact that he had made it here at all.
Still sniffling, Evan ghosted his hand on top of Gregory's where the older kid was holding back the blinds. Then he carefully interlocked their fingers and pulled Gregory’s hand away from the blinds, letting his friend know that Gregory didn't have to worry on his behalf.
(Funny. Usually, Evan did enough of that for the both of them.)
"I don't trust them, either. But I don't care about that," Evan said, too tired for any anxiety about his bluntness to creep in. "Not if it got me here."
For a second, Gregory looked at him, taken aback by Evan’s uncharacteristic response. Evan almost expected his friend to ask who he was and where 'the real Evan' really was, but instead, Gregory just shook his head with a smile.
"Well, you got here just in time." Gregory leaned closer to Evan before stage-whispering. "We were just in the middle of making cookies."
Evan perked up at that. "Chocolate chip?"
"No, raisin oatmeal," Gregory said dryly. "With just a hint of dirty socks and poison."
Evan shook his head at the joke as Gregory tugged on their intertwined hands, leading the younger toward the kitchen.
Not that Gregory needed to, of course. Even if Evan hadn't known this house just as well as– or perhaps better than– his own home, he heard Vanessa and Mr. Fazbear's voices drifting from the kitchen long before he saw them.
"I'm telling you, it's an even better substitute than butter for the cookie dough!" Vanessa's voice griped. "Don't you believe me?"
"Of course I do!" Freddy said. "It's just that– well, if you remember what happened last time–"
Freddy was suddenly cut off by a cry from Vanessa: "Don't say it!"
"You set the oven on fire!" Gregory screeched, delighted and mischievous as he sauntered into the kitchen.
"You little–!" Vanessa snapped, head immediately whipping to the threshold and sending the blond ends of her ponytail flying. But the playful, mock ire disappeared entirely when she caught sight of the figure standing just behind her younger cousin. The teenager gasped and her bright green eyes went wide. "Evan!"
"Oh, sure." Gregory tugged the two of them further into the kitchen; meanwhile, Evan waved almost shyly. "Roll out the red carpet for him, but not for your own flesh and blood? Typical."
"Oh, shut up, brat," Vanessa laughed. The older teen quickly made her way across the kitchen and offered Evan a high five before slinging an arm over his shoulders in a one-armed hug.
Unlike Gregory and Mr. Fazbear, Vanessa wasn't much of a hugger. Her hugs were very brief and she rarely handed them out, but when she did, they mattered.
"I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you back, kid," Vanessa murmured as she pulled away, low enough so that only Evan heard it.
The admission was enough to make Evan start crying again.
(Vanessa had only visited him in the hospital once, shortly after he had woken up, but he didn't blame her. He still plainly remembered when Vanessa had broken some bones in her hand while punching a bully who wouldn't leave her friend Luis alone, remembered how she had hidden the injury for weeks so she wouldn't have to go to the hospital.
The hospital was Vanessa's version of the animatronics. She didn't go near hospitals, not after what had happened to her parents– or what had happened to Gregory’s parents not long after his family had taken her in and before Mr. Fazbear had adopted them both.)
Vanessa gave his shoulder a quick squeeze as she pulled away, looking sadly at the tears already spilling down his face.
She was quickly replaced by Freddy kneeling down in front of him.
"Hey, kiddo." Freddy smiled gently, though concern still tinged his soft brown eyes. "Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed?"
Evan was more than familiar with that question and what it meant.
If he said yes, Mr. Freddy would lead him to the couch. He would dim the lights, go grab some snacks and blankets, pillows and stuffed animals, and give Evan a choice. Did he want to be alone, or did he want someone to sit with him? Did he want to talk, or just sit quietly?
Evan didn't want any of that, though. He wanted things to be normal, just for a little bit.
(Because a little bit was all that he had.)
Evan rubbed under his eye with a small sniffle. "N-no. I just– need a s-second."
"Okay," Mr. Fazbear said with that gentle smile still gracing his features. He turned briefly to his son, allowing Evan some time to work through his tears. "Gregory, would you mind getting another big bowl and spoon? I have the feeling we're going to want a lot more cookies between the four of us."
With a mock salute, Gregory did as he was asked. Vanessa and Freddy both grabbed more ingredients, ranging from flour to milk and eggs, from various parts of the kitchen.
By the time the Fazbears were done, Evan’s eye was dry, although it was still a bit red and puffy.
(It helped knowing that he was allowed to cry if he really wanted to. It helped knowing that being overwhelmed was an actual valid option here, and that he would be met with kindness and support to dry his tears. It was so much harder to stop crying when you weren't allowed to cry.)
As Mr. Fazbear came to kneel in front of him again, Evan shifted his weight between his feet– and his crutch. Not because he felt awkward, but because the minutes of standing still was starting to remind him just how much his legs and feet hurt after walking here. It was weird how you could forget you were in pain as long as you were still moving, but it always came back again if you stood still for too long.
"Are you okay?" Freddy asked, noticing Evan’s shifting.
Evan shrugged. "My feet hurt," the nine-year-old murmured, embarrassed.
Freddy pursed his lips. "Did you walk here all the way from your house?"
Evan nodded.
"What?" The gallon of milk slammed against the kitchen counter, probably harder than Vanessa meant for it to, as she turned to look at him. "That's, like, a twenty-minute walk!"
"Yeah?" The confused frown was practically audible in Gregory's voice. "So? We walk that all the time."
"Not with a crutch after you've been in a coma for months," Vanessa chided.
"Did I do something wrong?" Evan's voice was small as he looked between Vanessa and Mr. Fazbear.
"No, no, no!" Freddy was quick to assure. "It's okay, Evan. How about we get you off of your feet, though?"
When Evan agreed, Freddy moved over to the counter and cleared some dirty dishes away from the side of the sink. Then he came back over, picked Evan up (after asking first, of course) and settled Evan to sit next to the sink.
"There." Freddy smiled. "Now you can wash your hands and help us with the cookies, all while being off your feet. Sound good?"
A toothy smile ghosted across Evan’s face as he nodded before enthusiastically turning toward the sink and washing his hands.
Grabbing the big bowl and spoon from earlier, Gregory put some ingredients inside it and asked his dad to help him carry what wouldn't fit. Then he climbed up onto the counter next to Evan, and the two quickly got to work measuring out ingredients and adding them into the bowl as Freddy instructed them.
Meanwhile, Vanessa began covering a cookie pan with parchment paper before putting down dollops of the cookie dough they had made before Evan showed up.
It didn't take long for Vanessa to pipe up about her friends. Evan listened intently as the older teen talked about a sleepover she had planned for when the weekend came, providing Mr. Fazbear with names that were only vaguely familiar to Evan when the adult asked.
Meanwhile, he tried not to laugh as Gregory kept flashing silly faces at him while the two stirred all the ingredients together. But when Gregory made a silly face that Evan could only describe as looking like some deranged monkey with wide eyes and a smile so wide Ev could see his friend's gums, Evan laughed so hard he almost dropped the bowl entirely.
Evan fumbled to catch it but somehow almost made the bowl fly further; only Gregory’s fast reflexes kept the cookie dough from splattering all over the clean floor.
Evan’s heart dropped.
But Freddy's gentle laugh kept Evan from getting too buried in his own fears.
"Be careful, kiddos." Freddy sent the two children a smile as he shook his head fondly.
"When aren't we careful?" Gregory replied, sending his father an award-winning smile.
"Always?" Evan said, and at the same time, Vanessa gave a teasing scoff.
"Hey, it's not like we'd mess up the cookies too bad," Gregory said, looking at Vanessa with a smirk. "Unlike some people."
Across the room, Vanessa gasped. "Excuse you, I'm good at cooking!"
"Baking," Gregory corrected without missing a beat. "And nope, you're not! Or would a good baker set the oven on fire?" Gregory looked questioningly at Evan, who gave the smallest shake of his head while trying not to smile for Vanessa's sake.
"It was one time!" Vanessa looked at Evan, betrayal plain on her face; she had noticed his head-shake and the quirk at the corners of his lips.
"We all make mistakes," Freddy said calmly. Then a ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. "Though, some are bigger than others."
"And some have a lot more fire!" Gregory sing-songed. "Not that you'd care if you set the oven on fire again; you rarely even eat cookies."
"Nope," Vanessa said, looking dangerously calm in Evan's opinion. Gregory didn't look too worried, though.
"Too many calories," Vanessa continued. "And you know what else has too many calories?"
"What?"
Gregory smirked up at her, thinking that Vanessa would respond with a quick retort that he could just as quickly counter with more witty banter. He had not been expecting Vanessa to grab something off the island from the middle of the room. She pulled her arm back, and before Gregory could even think of reacting, she thrust her hand forward, emptying a cup of flour over her younger cousin.
Gregory could only splutter as the fine white powder sprayed all over him, settling heavily into his hair and over his clothes. Evan stared up at Vanessa, wide-eyed, and a similar shade of ghostly white thanks to his close proximity to Gregory.
"Oh, dear." Freddy raised a hand to cover his mouth, but couldn't manage to hide the crinkling around the corners of his eyes or the light that shone in his light brown gaze.
"Oh, it is on!" Gregory called, immediately arming himself with cracked eggshells from the counter beside him and hurling them in Vanessa's direction.
Things devolved from there impossibly quickly.
Suddenly, anything and everything was viable ammunition.
Leaping off of the counter, Gregory managed to grab a handful of flour from the bag, though Vanessa was quick to put the island between herself and her cousin and quickly dove in the opposite direction any time Gregory got close enough to try hurling the fistful of white powder at her.
Laughing heartily, Freddy picked up the bag of chocolate chips and tossed the small brown chunks at all three of the younger ones.
Evan even managed to grab the spray hose nozzle from the sink and drench Gregory with it as the other child ran past.
"Traitor!" Gregory screeched as he stepped out of the spray's range and lifted his arms as if to defend himself from the onslaught of water. "I thought you were on my side!"
Evan tried to give the same kind of quick-witted retort he knew Gregory would make in this situation, maybe something about how Gregory was the only one here Evan knew he could spray without them retaliating against him too badly. Except for Freddy, maybe. But the only sound Evan was capable of making was a peal of laughter so fierce and strong that it put a stitch in his gut that got deeper and deeper with each cackle that passed his lips.
By the time the food fight was over, the kitchen and everyone in it was a total mess, covered in flour (both powdery and clumpy, thanks to the spray of water from Evan), chocolate chips, egg shells, empty butter wrappers crumpled into balls…
By the time it was over, everyone in the kitchen was a laughing mess.
And the smiles stayed plastered across the four of their faces as they finally plopped the trays of unbaked cookies in the oven and started cleaning up the messes that they made, together.
One of Evan's favorite things about the Fazbear home was Gregory's bedroom.
Evan's bedroom at home may have been larger, but like a lot of things in the Afton house, Evan's bedroom was maybe too large, too empty, too unlived in.
Gregory’s bedroom wasn't anything like that. It was small but cozy, and you could tell without a doubt that Gregory was the one who lived there the moment you walked in. Posters from his favorite movies adorned the walls. A terrarium filled with bugs and plants he had found outside sat on his dresser. Conquests from his adventures outside were littered around the room, too, ranging from railroad spikes he had found on the ground out near the tracks, old bricks from abandoned buildings, even jackets and trinkets he had successfully stolen from bullies at school. Gregory’s room was filled with a lot more than empty space between dressers and a handful of toys that had mostly been outgrown ages ago.
The best part, though, was the bed.
Gregory had a bunk bed, although the top bunk was mostly used to drape a blanket from and turn the bottom bunk into a cozy, tent-like nook. Dozens of pillows and blankets and big, soft plushies snuggled away on the bottom bunk. Winding their way across the beams that held up the top bunk were strings of LED lights that emitted a soft glow.
Both of the boys were there now, swaddled in the blankets as they nibbled on chocolate chip cookies and tried their best not to get crumbs everywhere.
It was comfortingly peaceful. For a time, at least.
"Are you okay?" Gregory asked eventually. "You've been quieter than normal."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
It was true. Maybe Gregory's bed was a little too comfortable. Between crying so much at home earlier, the long walk here, the aching still pulsating through his legs, and the food fight earlier, Evan was having trouble keeping his head upright. But despite the exhaustion, Evan knew he wasn't going to take a nap like Mr. Fazbear had suggested. He couldn't stay here with Gregory and the others forever, and he didn't intend to waste a single moment of his limited time with them.
"Yeah," Gregory said slowly. "No offense, but you don't look so good. You honestly look worse than you did in the hospital. Has home been that bad? Or is it the nightmares again?"
Evan couldn't help but wince a little at that word.
Nightmares. It was the name he had given the strange, broken animatronics that appeared in his room at night, because things were less scary when you gave them a name. In the end, nightmares shouldn't be scary at all, because nightmares were just dreams, and you could always wake up from a dream.
Except Evan had found out the hard way that calling those things Nightmares didn't make them any less real.
Not that Gregory knew anything about the Nightmares, though. At least, Gregory didn't know that the ones in his bedroom were real.
(No one had ever believed Evan when he begged to be saved from the monsters. Not father. Not Michael. Not Elizabeth. And Evan cared about Gregory too much to risk hearing the same dismissive remarks from his friend. It was easier, and safer, to say nothing.)
"A little of both," Evan whispered.
"Is Michael giving you trouble?" Gregory asked. "Or Elizabeth? Because I'm not afraid to give either of them a bloody nose, even if Elizabeth is a girl."
"Michael’s bigger than you."
"But Michael's dumber than a bag of rocks, and only half as fast as one, too. I'm smarter and faster, so I've got him beat," Gregory said instantly, as self-confident as ever.
Evan didn't really think his big brother was all that dumb, but he couldn't help but smile at that. "They haven't been bothering me," Evan murmured. "N-Not like they normally do."
'Not yet,' a voice in the back of Evan’s mind added.
He knew the voice was right.
There were always times when things were Different.
Times when Elizabeth offered to sew one of his plushies back together after an accident.
Times when Michael would wordlessly slide him a prize the elder teen had won at Fredbear’s, and walk away rolling his eyes if Evan asked why Mike was giving it to him.
Times when Elizabeth walked him through how to help her put on some of the makeup her friends had given her– Father said she was too young to be wearing it, but Father was rarely around– before bashfully asking him if she could apply some on him, too.
Times when Michael made popcorn and all three of them sat glued in front of the television for hours, laughing at the characters on screen and occasionally throwing kernels at each other.
There were always lulls. Times when things seemed to slow down, when Evan could finally breathe again, when it seemed like things were finally going to be okay.
But those moments were only ever punctuated with more pain.
Evan should have learned that by now.
The nine-year-old hugged one of Gregory's plushies to his chest. It was a soft, white dragon plush; not an angry dragon, but one that naturally lay flopped against the bed with drooping cream-colored wings and stared up at you with dopey, sleepy-looking eyes. Evan rubbed the silken wings between his fingertips, doing his best to focus on the smooth and soft fibers against his skin instead of wondering how long this lull would last.
He was doing his best not to be a nuisance at home, but he had never seemed to be very good at that.
Beside him, Gregory reached out and started scratching under the white dragon's chin the way one might pet a cat. "I wish that was a bit easier to believe," Gregory grumbled. "Those two are always trouble."
Shrugging, Evan elected not to comment. "What about you?" He asked instead. "How– how have you been?”
“Eh, I’m… fine,” Gregory said, still looking down at the plushie Evan was holding. “It’s just, you know, boring without you here.”
Evan had never been very good at telling when others were lying to him. Whereas Gregory would boast about how his “gut feelings” usually never steered him wrong, the only thing Evan had was gullibility. But despite that, Evan knew his friend. He knew what it meant when Gregory hesitated and wouldn’t quite look you in the eye.
“Are you fine?”
The smile on Gregory’s face faltered for just a second. “Um, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sometimes, Evan thought he would never understand why Gregory was always so reluctant to talk about himself– to really talk about himself– when he lived with someone as open and kind as Mr. Fazbear.
Then, he would remember the times when Elizabeth would catch him crying and ask him what was wrong. He would remember how comforted he had felt the first few times it had happened, before he eventually realized exactly how all the rumors about him started at school, and how the kids at school knew so much about all the things that scared or upset him.
Evan knew that Gregory and Vanessa had both been in foster care before Mr. Freddy had adopted them. Evan also knew that neither Vanessa nor Gregory liked talking about their time in the foster system very much. Worst of all, Evan knew that sometimes, the people you were meant to be able to trust would do bad things with that trust. Things that would leave scars in the way you interacted with others, scars that never truly faded or healed.
Heart twinging painfully, Evan leaned his head onto his friend's shoulder and moved the stuffed dragon so the soft plushie was lying half on his lap with its head resting on Gregory's.
"Because you don't need to be okay all the time," the nine-year-old murmured quietly.
Gregory paused for a moment. Then: "Evan, has anyone ever told you that you're a sap?"
"Mm-hmm. You," Evan said. "Repeatedly."
"Well, that's because you are." Gregory wiggled the shoulder Evan was leaning against playfully before carefully resting his head atop Evan’s. "Don't ever change."
"I won't."
The two sat in silence for a while after that, both content to do nothing more than drink in each other's presence and be comforted by the warmth where their forms pressed against each other.
After a while, though, Gregory spoke.
"I guess school hasn't been the greatest," Gregory mumbled so that Evan barely made out the words.
"Are the other kids…?"
"It's not that," Gregory said. "The bullies all know I'd deck 'em if they tried anything."
"So, what's wrong?"
Gregory’s hand paused where he was petting the stuffed dragon's head.
"Like I said, it's boring without you. I kinda had to go a few months without my only friend, you know?"
Evan furrowed his face further into Gregory’s shoulder. "I'm sorry…"
"Not your fault," Gregory said automatically. "I just… I kinda had a hard time, like, focusing in class for a while, and my grades dipped and…"
Gregory’s voice trailed off in a way that made Evan think he had more to say but wasn't sure if he should.
"And?"
"And I was doing a really good job keeping my grades up, and now… I just don't want to let Dad down…"
Frowning, Evan remembered how his father’s voice sounded whenever one too many homework assignments had been torn up by other kids; how it had always dripped with disdain and derision, like father didn't know why he was surprised the teachers were calling about Evan’s failures.
About a year ago, Evan might have asked if Mr. Fazbear knew about Gregory’s grades already so they could come up with some way to hide it.
But that was a long time ago. Evan knew now that Mr. Fazbear wasn't anything like his father.
"I know it's scary," Evan said quietly. "But I don't think you have to worry about letting him down. Your dad loves you. He cares about you more than he cares about your grades."
Beside him, Gregory sighed. "I guess…"
"Have you tried talking to anyone about this?" Evan asked. "Your dad? Vanessa? Or your therapist?"
"Not really…"
Fingers digging into the plushie's soft fur, Evan picked up the dragon and placed it against Gregory’s chest. "Maybe you should?" He whispered.
"Yeah," Gregory muttered. His fingers flew up to the plushie and roved anxiously across its fur as he stared into its dopey black eyes. "I know I should. It just– it feels stupid, getting so worked up about it, but I can't fix it either. Bad things happen in the world all the time, and school is just– it feels kinda useless to be, like, learning homophones and relearning the ABCs for the millionth time."
Evan was quiet for a moment as he took that in. The frustration and defeat tainted Gregory’s voice, fraying him, wearing him down like a rope about to snap at any second. Evan wished that he could take all of that burden off of Gregory's shoulders.
Evan hummed for a second as he worked out what to say. "We're in fourth grade," the nine-year-old settled on eventually. "I think they expect us to know our ABCs on our own by now."
Gregory blinked. Then, when his brain caught up to Evan’s words, a laugh ripped through his throat as the joke caught him off-guard. "You know that's not what I meant!"
Evan giggled as Gregory jostled his shoulder again and shoved Evan playfully. The tension successfully slipped away from the older child, even if only for a moment.
"And, I don't think it's stupid." Evan picked his head off of Gregory's shoulder and met his friend's light brown eyes. "But… promise me you'll talk to someone about this?"
Gregory turned the dragon plushie over in his hands a few more times before tossing it back into Evan’s lap. "I promise."
"Evan," Gregory said as he felt the other's gaze on him for the millionth time in the last five minutes. "What are you doing?"
Evan glanced up from the cards in his hand, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"
"You keep looking at me funny.” Gregory eyed his friend up and down as he twisted a board game piece between his fingers. “Are you cheating?"
“Of course not!” Evan looked up at Gregory, pouting as though offended that the other would say such a thing.
"Shame." Gregory smirked down at the board game laid out across the table. “This game is way more fun when you cheat.”
“Well, I’m not– wait a minute. Gregory, you were cheating this whole time?”
Gregory tried not to laugh at the betrayal blatant on Evan’s face, he really did, but the way Evan's nose was all scrunched up and pulling his face in wonky directions as he furrowed his brow was just too much.
“Mayyyyybeeeeee,” Gregory sing-songed, and Evan immediately rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Ev, we have fun here!”
They began playing again, but it wasn’t very long until Gregory caught Evan looking at him from the corner of his eye again, like he thought Gregory might not notice.
“Ev? What’s up? You’re still looking at me kinda funny.”
“Nothing,” Evan said, ducking his head. “I was just thinking.”
“Gross,” Gregory joked before his voice took on a more serious note. “Thinking about what?”
“Nothing.” Evan’s cheeks were starting to turn red as he stared studiously down at the cards in his hands. “It… it’ll sound selfish.”
Immediately intrigued, Gregory leaned in closer to his friend. “I’ll be the judge of that. What’s up?”
The quiet ticking of the wall clock filled in the silence as Evan hesitated.
(7:24. Had father noticed that he had been gone for almost three hours? Or was he still busy inside his study?)
“I just… I was just wondering,” Evan stuttered. “You said– you said you were going to, uh, come visit me, after the hospital… and you, uh…”
Didn’t.
“Oh.” Gregory’s voice was smaller than Evan was used to. “About that…”
“I-I’m not mad!” Evan felt compelled to point out. “It’s just… it’s not like you, I guess.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were mad; I’d be pretty ticked off, too,” Gregory said. “In my defense, though, I walked by your house, like, a million times in the first two days that they let you out of the hospital, and your dad’s car was in the driveway every time. I thought I’d wait for him to leave and spare you the heart attack of me sneaking in and you worrying about him seeing me, but…”
“He’s been working from home this week.”
Gregory snickered. “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out on my own. I thought I’d try sneaking in through your bedroom window anyway after that, except no matter how many windows I looked through, I didn’t see anything that looked like it might be your room, Ev.”
That red hue was returning to Evan’s cheeks again. “Oh. D-Did I never tell you? Um… my bedroom doesn’t have a window. Not, um, not anymore, at least…”
“You couldn’t have told me that before I walked around your house twenty times looking for it?” Gregory laughed. “I dunno, at the hospital, maybe?”
“I forgot!” Evan’s face and ears were getting redder by the second. “I-I had a lot to worry about at the time, okay?”
Gregory rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling like he thought the whole thing was a pretty funny joke rather than Evan royally screwing everything up. “I’ll give you that: you definitely had a lot on your mind. It sucks that you don’t have a bedroom window, though. That makes things a lot harder.”
“It’d be nice if my bedroom still had one,” Evan muttered. Not just to give Gregory an easier way to sneak over to his house, though that was definitely a big plus. It would be nice if he could rely on moonlight streaming through the window at night, too, so he wasn’t completely in the dark when he was trying to scare all the monsters away from his room. Knowing his luck, though, the things would probably try sneaking in through the window, too. Maybe it was better that his room was windowless.
“Still?” Gregory repeated, his head cocking in confusion. “What, did your last window go on vacation?”
“Oh, no. My bedroom used to be down the hall, but father made me and Michael switch because I…” Evan chewed on his lower lip, nervous. “I broke broke the window," Evan said, embarassment tinging his voice. "...Twice.”
“Really? How?”
Evan’s head lowered as he mumbled something Gregory couldn’t make out.
“...what was that?”
His face burning hotter than an oven, Evan repeated himself in one single breath. “Itookapartmybedframeandusedthemetaltosmashtheglass!”
Gregory blinked at him as the nonsensical jumble assaulted his ears. When he finally worked out what the younger had said, a disbelieving laugh ripped from his throat. “You smashed the glass? On purpose? Why?”
“...It was the only way I had to sneak out of the house.”
Gregory stared down at his friend, a shocked smile still gracing his lips. “Geez, and here I thought I was the one who started you sneaking out of the house so we could play after school."
This was news to Gregory. Evan had been so reluctant to try sneaking away from Michael when Gregory first suggested that the younger kid just left the house instead of asking and inevitably being told he wasn’t allowed to play just because Michael had the power to say no. Gregory had always assumed that he had been the reason Evan got the courage to sneak away the first time, but now he was learning that Evan had been sneaking out of the house before the two had even met?
“What had you so desperate to get out that you broke the window twice?” Gregory asked.
“I… I didn’t want to,” Evan said slowly. Carefully laying his cards on the table, Evan gnawed on his lower lip as he looked at the back intently, like the secrets of the universe might be hidden in the silly pattern on their backs. “There was this girl. Charlie. She was friends with me and Liz, but one day she disappeared. Her dad really missed her, and so did Liz, and… and I did too. A lot. I thought maybe I could find her, but… father didn’t want me to.”
Evan rubbed at his already dampening eye, trying not to think about walking in on Mr. Emily crying at Fredbear’s or Liz with empty eyes looking at the bracelet she had been in the middle of making Charlie. The things that came after weren’t any better. The missing posters, having to see that black and white image of Charlie’s smiling face in the streets and on the milk cartons every day, father dragging a dresser in front of his door when he wouldn’t stop sneaking out, returning from school one day to find his window had been painted shut…
When Evan worked up the courage to look Gregory in the eyes, the smile had slipped off of the other child’s face.
“Oh,” Gregory whispered. “Wow. I… I didn’t know… that’s awful, Evan. I’m really sorry.”
“It was over two years ago. I’m not sure I remember it very well, to be honest. It always hit Liz the hardest.”
“Sounds like it hit you pretty hard, too, though.”
Evan didn’t have anything to say to that. He just shrugged, rubbing under his eyes to try stopping the tears before they fully formed. “C-Can we talk about– about something else?”
“Sure,” Gregory said gently. “I didn’t get to finish telling you about my adventure trying to sneak into your room, anyway.”
Trying not to sniffle, Evan listened intently as Greg recapped his struggle to find Mr. Afton’s purple car absent from the driveway, then his struggle to find Evan’s nonexistent bedroom window.
“Yesterday,” Gregory continued. “I finally decided: ‘screw it! I have world-class sneaking skills, so what’s stopping me from going straight through the front door?’”
“You didn’t!” Evan gasped.
Gregory smirked. He was more than a bit proud that, despite Evan clearly knowing that Gregory’s attempt to sneak in didn’t succeed, Gregory was still capable of telling the story well enough that Evan was practically on the edge of his seat.
“I certainly tried to. But I wanted to walk around your house one last time, make sure that I didn’t somehow miss your bedroom window the fifty times I looped around the house the day before. It was pretty dark by that point. The kind of dark where the shadows look like they’re about to reach out and grab you at any second. I think I may have gone too far past the trees surrounding your house, though, because as I made my way to the door…”
“What happened?”
“Don’t have a heart attack,” Gregory said. “But… well, your dad opened the door and came out on the porch.”
“What?!” Evan yelped.
“It’s fine, nothing happened. Clearly. I ducked back into the trees before he even saw me.”
Evan let out a relieved sigh. “He didn’t know you were there?”
“Well. I didn’t say that…”
“Greg!”
“Evan, I told you not to have a heart attack, okay? I think he must have seen me through one of the windows, but all he did was stand on the porch calling my name.” Gregory paused. “Which was kind of disappointing, actually, because if he had gone off searching for me, I could have snuck into the house while he was distracted.”
“Greg, he could have caught you!”
“And done what? Called my parents?”
“It’s not funny, Gregory,” Evan whispered. “He just… called your name? That’s all?”
“He may have said something about…” Gregory hesitated. “I dunno, it was weird. He kinda thanked me? For being there for you in the hospital? And said something about how you were resting, but he’d be happy to give me a ride back home? Like I said, it was weird.”
It was really weird, actually. William Afton had done nothing but look on him in disdain since William had first seen him, like Gregory’s existence alone left a sour taste in the old man’s mouth. So where had all that disdain been the other night? Something about it had unsettled Gregory in a way the kid didn’t know how– or perhaps didn’t want– to name.
Evan’s brows pinched further. “It’s not that weird. He does that sometimes. Acts like he’s not mad and asks you to go over to him, but then you do and he was just, like, pretending.”
Gregory’s mouth twisted downward. “He does that to you?”
Picking his cards up off the table again, Evan rifled through them religiously. He didn’t answer.
“You know that’s not normal, right?”
Evan hadn’t known. Not until he had started going to Gregory’s, at least.
He couldn’t think of a single time Mr. Fazbear had ever asked if Gregory or Vanessa wanted a hug or to watch tv with him, only to start screaming and throwing things and grabbing so hard he left bruises when they got close.
He couldn’t even think of a time Mr. Fazbear had ever yelled at either of them. Or, at least, not a time when Mr. Fazbear had yelled without immediately apologizing for getting frustrated with them.
Learning that ‘I’m sorry’ was more than just something you overheard your father say to unhappy customers was a big surprise to Evan, too.
"I guess it really is a good thing I didn't listen to him, then," Gregory mused. "It did sound kinda kidnapper-y at the time."
“Yeah.” Evan continued shuffling through the cards. “It’s good that you didn’t listen.”
Evan didn’t say everything that was on his mind.
He was jealous, if jealous was the right word, that Gregory had known not to listen to his father’s promises when Evan fell for them nearly every time.
He wanted to say that his father wasn’t kidnapper-y. Maybe father wasn’t always the best at interacting with people– sometimes Evan wondered if he had gotten that from his father, but it seemed to be so much worse for Evan that it had ever been for William– but he wasn’t weird. Not like Gregory thought he was.
His father loved him. Evan knew he did.
Even if father was never around. Even if on the days he was present, he seemed to look straight through Evan, or make Evan wish he was invisible to him.
It wasn’t like father only treated Evan that way. He treated Michael and Elizabeth in much the same way, and Mr. Emily, and even the customers and employees at Fredbear’s, sometimes.
Father was just busy.
It was like when Evan was trying to curl up on the couch with his Fredbear plushie and watch tv, and Michael would come in blaring music or stealing the remote over and over until Evan wanted to scream and cry.
It was hard to be kind to someone when you had something you wanted to do and they kept getting in your way over and over.
That was why it was better to be quiet.
He knew his father loved him. Maybe… maybe not the way Freddy loved Gregory and Vanessa, but that didn’t mean it was any less.
Evan’s father loved him.
It was a simple fact of life. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and fathers loved their children.
That was why father still came home at night, most nights, despite how busy he was and how much easier it would be if he just stayed at Fredbear’s.
That was why father knew how to get the three of them close when they did something wrong: tell Evan it was alright and ask if he needed a hug, tell Lizzie he didn’t mean it and offer to make a special toy just for her, and use another trick for Michael because Mike never quite fell for it the way Evan and Liz did.
That was why father had given Evan his own Fredbear plushie.
(And his last plushie. Father had never given him another after that, and Michael had stopped giving him plushies, too.
Michael had started looking for any opportunity to tear Evan’s plushies apart after that instead. Evan had never quite found out what happened to his Foxy plushie’s head.)
Evan knew his father loved him, even if father never said it.
You didn’t need someone to say it to know you were loved.
(Maybe you didn’t have to feel loved to know you were, either.)
Evan knew his father loved him.
(And Evan knew he was in the wrong for wishing a million times a day that he would never have to go back to his house, and that he could stay with Gregory and Freddy and Vanessa forever. Evan knew he was in the wrong for acting like his family wasn't good enough when he was the one who spent nearly every second of every day wishing to escape and leave them behind. )
Although Gregory’s fingers held tightly onto his own, Evan’s stomach twisted with every step closer to the front door and the driveway that lay beyond it.
Warmth pressed into the small of his back as the group made it to the front porch, and Vanessa’s hand gently guided him down the steps so he wouldn’t stumble.
Catching sight of the Fazbear’s brown car resting on the gravel driveway was what finally got the hot tears to slip down Evan’s cheeks.
“Oh, Evan…” Kneeling down before him, Mr. Fazbear wrapped Evan in a hug. His hands rubbed gently up and down Evan’s spine as loud, hopeless sobs wracked their way through Evan’s body. “I’m so sorry, Evan…”
Some distant part of the Afton knew that Mr. Fazbear really was sorry, and that he should not be crying about something that so clearly could not be changed. Evan would always have to go back to his father’s house, one way or another. It wasn’t even so bad there anymore, not now that Michael was mostly leaving him alone and Evan had learned to keep himself from crying all of the time.
But the way he kept himself from crying scared him.
Two days ago, Elizabeth had knocked on his bedroom door to ask if he needed anything before she and Michael left for school. A few minutes later, Elizabeth was opening his door and ranting quietly about her day at school as she brought him a “late lunch” to eat.
Evan had been sure that his mind had only been in the blackness for a few minutes, but glancing at his alarm clock had revealed that it was no longer 7 in the morning but 4 in the afternoon.
The entire day had somehow passed him by. An entire day without being frightened or sad or crying his eyes out didn’t sound too bad, but it was more than that. It was an entire day– and every day that came after, really– without laughing so much his stomach hurt or feeling safe, safe enough to cry without being yelled at and safe enough to tease and play jokes with the people around him.
Evan didn’t want to go back to not feeling anything when he could be happy, right here and right now, with Gregory and his family.
Not caring about the loud clatter as his clutch fell, Evan let go of the metal support and wrapped his arm around Mr. Fazbear’s neck since his other hand was still interlocked with Gregory’s.
Mr. Fazbear let it happen, still rubbing his knuckles comfortingly up and down Evan’s spine as he cried. Then he pulled back just enough to meet Evan’s eyes.
“Your house has a telephone, right, Ev?” Mr. Freddy asked.
Evan nodded shakily.
“And you have my number memorized? Can you repeat it for me?”
“Good,” Mr. Fazbear continued when Evan stuttered his way through the number. “Now, if things ever get to be too much at home, or if you just want to come and visit us, you call that number, okay? You don’t have to walk all the way out here again; just call that number and I’ll come to pick you up next time.”
Evan nodded again, and Mr. Freddy wiped at the tears slipping down the child’s face with a sad smile.
He took his crutch back when Vanessa picked it up for him before the three piled into the car’s backseat, with Freddy sliding into the driver’s seat.
The car felt frightfully small from the inside, like the roof and walls might cave in at any moment and crush him. Evan shuddered as Mr. Freddy turned the key and the car roared to life with a growl that vibrated through the backseat. He hadn’t been in a car since…
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
William Afton came alone to pick Evan up from the hospital, maybe because it was the middle of a school day. Evan didn’t think too deeply about Michael and Elizabeth’s absence; he didn’t think about anything other than ensuring he didn’t make eye contact as his father led him through the lobby and to the sleek purple car in the parking lot.
His father watched as the nine-year-old tumbled into the backseat on his own before finally starting the car.
The memories of the last time Evan had been in this car flashed before him almost too fast for the nine-year-old to comprehend.
He remembers how loud everything was; he remembers not being able to tell the roar of the car sliding dangerously on the road apart from the screams of the people around him. In between the blackness swimming in his consciousness, all the screaming and the vibrating machinery had combined into a monster of machinery with human voices coming for him, getting closer and closer. He remembers the entire earth shaking and swerving beneath him, like the whole world was about to collapse from under him. He remembers arms wrapped tightly around him. He remembers something being pressed so tightly against his head that he couldn’t breathe, and he remembers wondering what would end up exploding first: his aching lungs or the unending pulsing in his head.
There’s something else there that he thinks he remembers, too. It’s not pleasant: the smell of sweat and dried mud and too much body spray. It reminds Evan of his brother, but he can’t be sure over the blackness in his head and the sharp smell of blood overtaking his senses.
For all the times he had gotten hurt before, Evan had never realized blood had a scent, let alone one so sharp and rich.
The memories– or half-memories; they were too fuzzy for Evan to be sure whether they were real– were too much for him. Before Evan knew what he was doing, he had pried the car door open and was tumbling through the air.
William had only just started pulling the car out of its parking spot. The car wasn’t going very fast, was barely moving at all, but slamming against the concrete still scraped the skin off his arms and legs. Evan barely felt the pain, though, because he was throwing up almost before he had even hit the ground.
Evan lay crumpled against the ground, trembling from the shock of how badly the acid had burned his throat. He wasn’t sure why the act of throwing up had always felt so scary, like something awful was happening and your very body itself was betraying you and spiraling out of control, but it terrified him. Whimpering, Evan tried to ignore the pounding in his head and the burning of his throat and how awful his mouth felt and tasted right now and how he could feel the vomit still clinging to his chin. He tried not to let it make him cry as his father’s black dress shoes stopped in his field of vision.
Fingers dug into his armpits as his father lifted him off the ground. Time seemed to freeze. For a second, William paused with his son pressed against his chest, and Evan was just a little kid being held in his father’s arms.
William shuffled, holding Evan propped up against his hip as his other hand carded through the back of Evan’s now short hair.
For a second, Evan thought maybe his father was going to hug him and tell him things would be okay. Maybe, Evan thought, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.
But the man said nothing as he sat Evan down on the seat. William climbed back into the driver’s seat, passing a few tissues to Evan in an afterthought before wordlessly turning his attention to the road.
He didn't say anything the entire ride, and the silence continued long after the two walked through the front door.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Even with Gregory holding his hand, Evan cried the entire way back to the Afton household.
The closer they got to the house, the quieter Evan’s crying became. By the time the car pulled into the very edge of the Afton driveway where it could not be seen through the trees surrounding the house– at Evan’s request – the nine-year-old's sobs had ebbed into trembling and the occasional sniffle. But there was a difference between tears fading away because the emotions behind them had been dealt with and tears fading because you had no other choice but to cry silently.
Unfortunately, the car's inhabitants knew that all too well.
And they also knew that there wasn't much they could do about it once Evan started trudging back to his father’s house, no matter how much they wanted to make everything better.
It wasn't usual for Freddy to drive Evan back.
True, it was a long walk back to the Afton household, but Gregory and Evan enjoyed the time together that the long walk afforded them, and a forty-minute walk was nothing to Gregory, who would often spend all day roaming through the woods or around town adventuring.
The first time Mr. Freddy drove Evan back was after the kid had landed badly on his ankle while playing out in the yard.
They were almost at the Afton household when Freddy happened to glance at the backseat in the mirror, and he caught sight of the silent tears slipping down Evan’s face.
While Gregory was openly concerned about his friend, he wasn't caught off guard like Freddy was. As the two drove back after dropping off Evan, Gregory would even tell his dad that Evan did more or less the same thing whenever Gregory walked his friend home.
Gregory was used to it.
Freddy was not.
When Freddy finally pulled back into his driveway, Freddy would tell his son to go back into the house without him; he would follow soon.
That was a lie.
Freddy didn't often lie.
Evantually, Vanessa finally found him still sitting in the driver's seat with his head buried in his arms as he leaned against the steering wheel.
Peeling open the passenger side door and sliding into the seat beside him, Vanessa put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Dad? What's wrong?"
Freddy's shoulders shuddered under her hand as the adult forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath. "Nothing, sweetheart; I just need a minute."
"Don't lie to me," Vanessa chastised. "Something's clearly wrong. Whatever it is, I can handle it."
"I'm just a bit overwhelmed at the moment." Freddy picked his head up off the steering wheel, trying to use the movement to subtly wipe at his eyes. "Nothing to worr–"
"Dad…" Vanessa sighed. "I want to help. Please, let me help."
A frown tugged at Freddy's lips as he looked at his daughter. He didn't want to worry her, didn't want to put any more weight on her shoulders after everything that had happened to her in her short life…
But Vanessa wanted to help. That was who she was. Freddy could hardly deny her that, and he had to trust that she was old enough to know what she could and could not handle.
….Besides, he had always tried to teach his adoptive kids that it was okay to ask for help. He was hardly setting a good example, was he?
Freddy took a deep breath in and released it, focusing on the movement of his chest to calm himself. "It's just… Evan. He… he cried the entire drive back to his house, and according to Gregory, that's… that's normal for him."
Vanessa's brows furrowed and she hummed in sympathy.
"I knew he didn't have the best home life," Freddy murmured. "But that was… seeing him like that was…" Freddy shook his head. He didn't even have any words for it. "And the worst part is, he didn't make a sound the entire drive. I wouldn't even have known if I hadn't glanced up at the mirror."
"Poor kid," Vanessa murmured as she leaned back into her seat, processing.
"I just... can't stop thinking about it," Freddy murmured. He continued speaking, though there was a faraway look in his eyes as the murmur rustled past his lips. "Do you know why kids cry?"
Glancing up at him in confusion, Vanessa shook her head. She didn't think of herself as being very good with people, and especially not with kids. Gregory was an exception, of course, but only because she had practically grown up with him.
"Kids cry because they need something. Love or attention or comfort. Not all kids ask for help in the same way, but that's what crying is: a way of asking for help. But if a child cries silently, it's because–" Freddy's voice broke. "It's because they've already learned that no one is coming to help them, but even so, they just can't stop."
"We are helping him," Vanessa said quietly. "In every way that we can and every way we know how. Short of, you know, kidnapping him and making him a Fazbear permanently."
Despite himself, Freddy smiled sadly. "I wish we could."
"Me too. Even if it means I'd be outnumbered in battle." Vanessa chuckled before shaking her head, her joking tone slipping away. "We are helping him, though. We can't be there for him every second of the day, but the time we do spend with him, it matters."
"I'm just… worried that it won't be enough."
"We're making a difference. I know we are. You've kind of gotten into the habit of that, you know. Making a difference in kids' lives."
Freddy looked up at her, his brown eyes soft.
Vanessa smiled. "You can trust me on that."
"I hope you're right."
"I'm always right," Vanessa said, earning a chuckle from Freddy. "Now come on, old man, Gregory’s getting worried about you. Don't want him thinking you fell and broke a hip in the driveway, now do we?"
"I'm not that old," Freddy protested as the two climbed out of the car. "I'm not nearly that old!"
"Uh-huh," Vanessa smirked. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you over those loud, creaky joints of yours."