His Superstar

Chapter 13: Bobbiedots

Freddy's P.O.V.

     I looked at Jeremy quizzically as he ran in circles, barking and snapping his tiny jaws. I didn't understand what he was trying to do until Gregory walked into my room and clarified.

     "He's just trying to catch his tail," he said matter-of-factly. "It's something dogs do."

     "But... don't you think he would've learned by now that he can't?" I pointed out. "He's been trying for a long time..."

     "Yeah, well, Y/N's been brainstorming for something and won't give up. I don't really get it, either."

     My brows furrowed at his remark. Y/N was working on something? How had I not noticed?

     "This... troubles me," I said. "Y/N hasn't told me anything. Come to think of it, I don't think I've really seen her the last few days."

     "Oh no... Freddy, I'm twelve and even I know now's the worst of times to be too busy for her."

     I face palmed. "You're right. And Y/N's going to be taking all of my excuses at this point... I'll go check on her. I have some time before the next show."

     After those words, I immediately made my way to Parts and Service to check on Y/N. Today was Friday, and according to Y/N Friday was always a big day. Whether she meant that Fridays were the busiest for her, or that they were her favorite, I figured that today would be the best day of the week to finally give her an entire fifteen minutes.

     Whatever happened to those pleasant nights on the roof? Y/N was happiest back then; she didn't have a care in the world...

     The automatic door opened, and I listened for Y/N. When I didn't hear anything I walked further in. When I didn't see anything, I grew anxious.

     "Y/N?" I called. "Superstar? Are you here?"

     There was no answer.

     I began to panic. Y/N almost never left Parts and Service, and if she did it was often for a reason I knew about. Like a few days ago when Dave had to leave early, and Y/N took over his afternoon. I still admire her for doing that... It must have been a very demanding day, yet she did i-

     Focus, Freddy. You're priority is finding Y/N, not silently praising her.

     Out of the corner of my eye I saw Y/N's desk, and while I already knew she wasn't there, what was there caught my attention.

     Scattered across her desk – and even spilling off the sides – were masses of paper, discarded Starburst wrappers, small pieces of pencil lead, and empty cans of orange Fizzyfaz.

     Orange? Oh dear, she really is busy.

     Some of the paper was crumpled into tight balls, as if she'd taken out her frustration on them, and others had strange sketches and phrases such as "the best things come in threes" and "rough sketch no. 7" scrawled on them.

     Y/N was very good at drawing, and I was often impressed by the things that she could illustrate, but the things that I was looking at... I honestly couldn't tell what her sketches were meant to be. But they must've made sense to Y/N, because several variations of the same thing appeared on many sheets. I saw the word "bobbiedot" a notable amount, but I didn't know what it meant. It wasn't anywhere on the internet, and I'd never heard Y/N ever mention a "bobbiedot", so I didn't have the faintest idea what any of it meant.

     I was about to resume my search when I remembered I could send her a message. I sent her a quick, "Y/N, where are you?" and waited.

     When she didn't respond (or return) five minutes later, I couldn't tell if I should've been worried or crestfallen. Surely she would return before the next performance... but how long would I get to see her when she did come back?