"What are we?"

YOU don't.

Scott sifted through the papers on his clipboard, brows furrowed. It felt like he was the only person left who actually gave a shit about this place anymore. There were definitely a few workers who cared, but when it came to shift managers? It was all dumped on him. He sighed and looked up at the sea of children, chaos as usual. Week days were never easy, especially at peak. The lights from the stage briefly flashed him in the eyes, and he silently regretted the beers from the night before. ...Maybe taking a little break from the noise would do him some good. The other guards seemed pretty set on running the floor by themselves. Mike manned by the prize corner, Vincent by the stage, Fritz by the door, and a few others he didn't quite remember the names of. Scott nodded, mostly to himself, then set down the left hallway, unknowing of another guard following close behind.

The cheesy showtunes muffled as he made his way towards the break room, giving him a small relief. He could feel a headache coming on, something he had become accustomed to as his years at Fazbear's drew on.

God. Years. It didn't feel like years. He had at first intended for this to be a summer job, something to do while he browsed for colleges. He didn't expect to get so... Scott walked into the break room, eyes pulling to the toaster that sat on the countertop. So attached. He sighed and sat down at the small table they had, leaning so the back of his head was against the wall.

Things with Vincent had been going good... So why did everything feel so weird?

He wasn't used to this side of Vincent. He knew the persona he put on for work was just that; a persona. But actually seeing the real person under it? It hit him like a freight train. He wasn't sure how to feel.

Scott had never been anyone's first choice before. He never stuck out, not in the way others did. He was average, at best. Glasses, brown eyes, black hair, nothing extraordinary about his personality; the only thing that would really be a plus was his height. But height didn't matter much when everything else about him was so-... so normal. He had girlfriends in the past, sure. Girls he picked up in high school, relationships that would last for months, then fizzle out because they had nothing in common. Did Vincent have any relationships in the past? He paused, then gently bit his lip. Did he want to think about that? He wasn't sure. Vincent was such a touchy subject for him. Someone he had known for years, but never really knew. Someone who he had grown undeniably, unequivocally attached to.

Scott was nothing extraordinary, not in his own eyes. But when Vincent looked at him recently?

He felt like the sun.

"Pg?"

Scott opened his eyes, turning his attention to the man standing in the doorway. Mike looked at him, expression stern.

What is this.

"Hey, Mike," He started, sitting up. "Sorry- I'll be back out in a minute. Just taking a five. Headache from last night and all."

Mike opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself, closing the door behind him.

"... Is everything alright?" Scott asked, cautious about his word choice. Something was wrong. Very, clearly wrong.

Mike was quiet for a moment, his face reading more as uncomfortable now than anything. After a drawn out silence, he spoke.

"What's going on with you and Vincent?"

Scott stared at Mike, mouth falling open, but words failing him. What? What?

"Excuse me?"

"Things between you two- I... I don't know what you guys have going on, but I have a really, really bad taste in my mouth because of it." Mike turned to him fully.

"..." Scott thought for a moment. He didn't have to lie... technically. They were friends. They established that. They were just friends... Right?
"We're friends, Mike. We've known each other for a long time."

"Yeah, well, I don't trust him. Let's get that out of the way now. He scares the shit out of Jeremy." Mike moved in to approach Scott. "I don't know what his deal is, but-"

"What are you implying?" Scott seethed, standing up as Mike stood in front of him.

"I'm implying  that he's a fucking weirdo, Scott."

The first name took him by surprise. Not many guards used, or even knew his first name. Mike was angry. Why was he angry? This had nothing to do with him.

"What?"

"The way things have been lately- First in here, that tension with you two, then just a week later you're dancing together?"

Scott felt his heart nearly drop to his stomach. He knew.

Mike knew.

How did he know?

"We're friends."

"Friends don't slow dance on their boss' fuckin' porch, dude."

Scott balled his hand into a fist, fidgeting with his bandages. He didn't like being cornered like this. He didn't like being unprepared.

"Look- I-..." Mike stammered for a moment, shaking his head. "I don't know what you think you have with him, but you better know what you're doing, cause I-"

"I've known him longer than you, Mike." Scott felt his chest tighten, anger nearly boiling over. Mike had no idea about him, about them.

"Like that matters? I don't care if you've known the guy for a year or fifty. He freaks out almost everyone here, and I know that he-"

"YOU don't know him. You don't know-" Scott stopped himself, feeling his voice falter.

You don't know how I almost lost him.

But Mike couldn't know. Scott pulled back, sighing. He couldn't possibly know if nobody told him. He'd be upset if it was anyone else worrying Jeremy, too.

"Just drop it, Michael." He mumbled, reaching over to pick his clipboard back up. He wasn't sure if it was his voice raising, or the way he defended Vincent that took Mike by surprise, but the other guard was unusually silent. "Don't get involved in things you have no idea about."

Before Mike could retaliate, Scott was already out the door.