FUNTIME FREDDY X GOTH READER (Inspired by "count the ways")

In The Shed

I woke up and threw up the best clothes from my pile I could find, ready for a day hopefully better than the last. I might try to walk a little slower this morning. There's no need to rush now, if I'm too early I'll have to wait even longer for the only part of the day I'm excited for. Those 35 minutes of lunch is all I'm able to truly look forward to. While appreciating the greenery I noticed something I miraculously didn't notice before. A large, run down looking victorian mansion. It stood tall and had an incredibly dark atmosphere. It was stunning. For a building this old, it shockingly didn't look any sort of abandoned. There was a large wooden shed towards the back of the mansion that was visually out of place from the rest. I wonder what's in there? I wonder who's living there. I didn't have to wonder too long before I got an answer. "Millie?" I questioned, seeing her leather boots step out the doorway. She looked at me puzzled before greeting me with a pleasant smile. "Oh, hey Y/N." "You live here? This place is gorgeous." "Eh" she scoffed, "Not so much on the insane. It's full of an old man's clutter. There's assortments of the most unnecessary nonsense, especially in that damn shed." The shed? My eyes light up in hopes for more. "What's going on in the shed?" I attempt to alter the path of the conversation. "I don't know. My grandpa goes in there like every night, he spends so much time in there but I'm unsure what he's doing other than messing around with all of the clutter and nicknacks."

Even long after we both arrived at school, my mind didn't leave that shed. It was somehow more mysterious than Millie. What could be in there? What was her grandfather so fixated on? My mind raced and raced until the lunch bell finally rang. I darted towards the cafeteria to meet Millie at my newfound designated table. Shockingly, I caught her staring at that red haired boy once again. He sat at a table with boys playing on their switches and others shuffling cards or using their chromebooks to play roblox. What could Millie possibly have towards him that causes her to be so drawn to him? She noticed me before I had any time to theorize. I sat down across from her, same as the previous day. "What are you reading?" "A collection of stories Edgar Allen Poe" she replies pridefully. "Ooo, sounds grim. Do you like Poe's work?" She almost seemed offended by my question. "LIKE??" She gasped before going on a rant that lasted seemingly forever about her opinions on Poe and all of his work. "You're really into poems. Speaking of, do you plan on showing me any of yours?" "Um-" she paused, "those stay at home. Sorry." I took a moment to think of my response. "Maybe I could come over sometime?" I played with my hair to calm myself down as I asked such a risky question. "I haven't had anyone over yet, we'll see. Are you allergic to cats?"
"No, but I love them so much I could spontaneously combust if I get too close. My doctor warned me not to get within 5 feet of a kitten, especially one's in silly black hats." I giggled at my own corny joke. She merely gave me a small grin and continued reading.

The following few days I spent every morning walking with her and every lunch period growing closer to her. Her mystery slowly began unfolding itself, with fewer and fewer pieces of the puzzles remaining. Finally, one Friday after I school I walked home with her. "Wow, this place looks bigger on the inside." She chuckled and made a snarky comment telling me not to get lost. I have no idea how I wouldn't get lost in this thing! She was right about her grandfather collected nonsense, there were small taxidermy animals, dolls, and random junk scattered across every corner of the mansion. Walking up the long, narrow stairs we finally reach her room. I could tell it wasn't always hers by the clash of interior design. While the walls were bright with floral print, there were Curt Carrion posters and black candles. Her cat, Annabel Lee, laid silent on her bed as she was curled up and asleep. I fell like a ragdoll onto her bed, tired from their long walk. "Sooo.. that poetry?"

For the next hour or so Millie showed me poem after poem. Some sweet and lethargic, some eerie and grim. Each with their own unique charm. I noticed a theme in her work. Each poem was a different romanticization of death, some taking that term more literal than others. Different ideas of the enigma that is death. Why is this something she's so fixated on? The moment I believe I figure her out, a new mystery arrives in need of being unfolded. Her grandfather calls her downstairs to dinner. Veggie pasta and cookies, she really loved her cookies. As she went down to retrieve her food, it was my chance. I snuck downstairs and bolted towards the shed. As I opened the creaking old wooden door, I saw something I would've never expected.