Let me in ~ Snowmine
Just to want it,
And not to need it,
Makes me hate it.
But then you let me in,
And I don't want it.
But you made me believe it.
So do I really? Do I really want?
Stress stress stress!
My balled fists knock at my head a couple times, then grip the hair firmly. I want to pull wildly and run around to release some of my inner complications.
For the past couple hours, I've been pending two ideas: show up at the restaurant ready to dance or act like the whole exchange between Springtrap and me never happened.
I don't want to dance with him! But only because I'm afriad I'll screw it up...
However, if I don't try at all, I may not have this opportunity again and I'll regret it until the day I become an old person and die.
The mere thought is enough to send shivers down my spine. My eyes lock on the closet door, reminiscing the one prom my dad made me go to.
He said, "I want you to have at least one magically prom night to remember.
They're meant to be fun and if you be yourself, relax, and remember to smile, then you'll have a momentous time you never would have imagined.
" The memory almost fades away right then until I suddenly recall his index finger wagging far too close to my face. "But no boys." Ugh, Dad- I do miss him.
The dress I wore was long enough to cover my legs and it was made of a fine silk, the color of the freshest golden glow honey.
There were some frills here and there, a larger one that attached from my waist and glided down my side until it reached the bottom of the dress' hems. Dad picked it out with me.
It's too bad I hadn't used it to dance when I should have. Really, I just stood around the dance floor, running from person to person until I found a familiar face. Ah, the high school days.
A lightbulb lights up above my head.
Literally- I just turned on the closet light when I realize I could use it properly tonight, but would I be going overboard by dressing up? Maybe he's not expecting me to wear formal attire.
It's not fair that Springtrap is wearing a purple bowtie at all times, he's always looking semi formal!
And back to the tormented mental war zone inside my skull I go.
Susie can hardly contain herself, phantom curls bouncing on her head as she darts around the pizzeria.
"Yay yay yay!" She's jumping up in down in front of Gabriel with her fists punching wildly in the air.
"Gabe, (y/n) is going to dance! Do you think she's going to look like a princess? Do you think she's going to wear a pretty dress? Do you think she wants me to do her makeup?
I want to look like a princess too!"
The untamable energy radiating off the blonde girl was making Gabriel nauseous. He grips his forehead and groans while the images of Susie putting makeup on (y/n) flood his mind.
Poor girl would look like a clown. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll look great." He pats her head gently, but really he just wants to climb back into the Freddy suit. No more parties for him, please.
Fritz waltzes over, bearing the same unenthused expression he usually has.
"Fritz, Gabe thinks I can put makeup on (y/n) and she would look really pretty!"
"Whatever, Susie. It's disgusting that you would happily entertain the idea of this girl, who'd been repeatedly harmed by him, dancing around with our killer as if it meant nothing.
It's sick!" He hisses venomously at her. This is the part where Susie usually breaks down and sobs. Typically, Jeremy or Gabriel would have to calm her down, but not this time.
The little girl stamps her foot and folds her arms over her chest. She even adds a sassy head movement for effect. "You hurt her too and she still likes you.
I bet you're just jealous she isn't dancing with you!"
Gabriel gasps at her statement and raises his arms to block Susie's face as she antagonizingly sticks out her tongue towards Fritz. "Jeremy, help! Come on, guys! Don't fight.
" Gabe mutters an "again" under his breath though his attempts to settle the situation are futile. Fritz is shouting "let me at 'em!" and aggressively tries to shove past the phantom kids.
"What in God's name is going on here?" There's William. His hands rest on his hips while he stares down the the four children like a disappointed parent.
Susie immediately breaks away from the boys and rushes at William. He has to stick an arm out so she runs into his palm instead. Now she can't get any closer.
Even so, she jogs in place as if she didn't notice his hand keeping her back. "Fritz is being mean! He's saying mean things about (y/n).
" She whines annoyingly to the point that William wants to cringe.
He really hates kids, but Susie reminds him of his daughter a little bit; thus, and a little unfairly, she gets away with more shenanigans than the boys would.
"Alright, enough!" He can only raise one hand as the other is still holding Susie back. A deep breath is all he requires to settle down though. "Enough, all of you.
We have a special occasion tonight that we should all prepare for."
Jeremy raises an arm and hops in place once. "Ooo, can I decorate? I'm pretty good at setting up the lights." There's a goofy grin spread widely across his face.
He oddly matches Bonnie's own personality fairly well.
Meanwhile, Fritz scoffs and distances himself from the two other boys now that they were no longer fighting. "Oh please.
Remember the last time you tried messing with the lights on stage? You managed to nearly blind the birthday kid aaaaaaand one of the bulbs exploded on Freddy's head in the middle of a song."
"That was an accident! Plus, it's harder interacting with... carpool objects!"
"Corporeal." Both Fritz and William waste no time in correcting him.
"Yeah! That! As Bonnie, it won't be hard at aaaaall." Jeremy waves his arms in the air, just happy to be a part of the excitement.
Honestly, William doesn't need help setting up the pizzeria especially help from kids. But he supposed that if they're really so eager to work, he could find something for them to do.
"Fine, you get the lights and you're in charge of decorating. Fritz, I need you to come with me."
There isn't a response. More of a firm glare that's sent to the boy with a sour attitude. Begrudgingly, he follows.
Susie sneaks in a mocking laugh as he walks by, but for once, the phantom controls himself enough not to argue back. The two males enter the manager's office silently.
William already demanded he know how (y/n) solved the mystery, so the children told him she found the tapes and articles in the room.
Susie also mentioned Fritz had hit her with one of the tapes as well. At that statement, it was clear that all the children were doing more than just "spectating" the situation.
Thus, they got an earful from William.
But now, the two were here to find the papers and destroy them. It's a mystery as to why the Fazbear family hadn't destroyed all evidence to begin with.
"Are we going to burn them all? Can I light the fire?" When the boy doesn't get a response right away, he resorts to manners. "Please?"
William is looming over the desk, trying to pull at the drawers. It takes a few attempts and phasing through the object before he finally grips the knob. "Yes, that's fine.
" The answer is given absentmindedly and received with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Fritz gets the message and frowns. He sighs loudly and slumps in the office chair, staring with immense boredom at the ceiling.
After several minutes of doing nothing, the boy turns towards the news articles.
William hadn't gotten to them yet (considering he was still trying to master the ability of interacting with earthly objects.
No one was as skilled as Fritz when it came to it) and it was truly pitiful to watch him try, so he figured he might as well do it for him. "These things are so old.
How are they not dissolving to dust at the touch?" He snickers to himself while sifting through the loose papers.
He's spent a lot of his time reading during the day; therefore, he's become an avid reader. At least he can back up his arrogance with intelligence.
As the child cycles through each article, one seemingly fresh paper catches his eye.
Fritz scans for the date and finds it's only a few months old, but when he reads the newspaper's title, his stomach drops.
The golden glow of his eyes seems to fade and when he turns to face his superior, even William can sense the change in the atmosphere.
And upon inspecting the page, he too erupts with a fear he hasn't felt in a very long time.
"No heels, I'll break an ankle." I stare into my reflection against a shop's window. I could no longer stay at home since it's nearly midnight and Dad got home hours ago.
In a way, I felt like I had nowhere I belonged. I couldn't stay home, I couldn't stay at the pizzeria and I couldn't stay outside. Just a series of unfortunate events after another.
The frown tugging at my face evaporates as I recall what I'm doing out here in the first place.
The high heels I had been attempting to walk in are now in my hands, leaving me to walk barefoot the rest of the way.
Fortunately, the street lights and bright moon keep my path lit well enough for me to avoid loose screws or abandoned syringes.
It's but five minutes before I arrive at the pizzeria, standing before the glass doors.
I didn't bring my watch tonight because it clashed with my dress, though I'm fairly certain it's almost midnight.
My empty hand grips the cool door handle, last minute jitters causing my muscles to tense and my brain to stall.
Did I overdo this whole formal attire thing? Oh God, is my hair okay? It took almost an hour to do... Will he like it or will he think I'm high maintenance or something?