Epilogue Pt. 13

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You stood outside the Afton residence, rocking back and forth on your feet as you listened to the doorbell ring. Biting the inside of your cheek, you felt sick when you heard footsteps. The door slowly opened, and you were greeted with the completely disheveled looking William Afton.

"What," he grumbled.

"I-I'm here to give Michael his homework and go over the notes with him," you said, rubbing your arm.

With a sigh, the father of your best friend opened the door and let you inside.

"You know where he is."

With a nod, you dart inside and up to Michael's bedroom. You slowly knock on the door, not hearing anything from the other side.

"I'm coming in!" you called, slowly opening the door.

The lights in the room were off and the blinds were closed. Clothes, papers, and old wrappers were scattered everywhere. There was a mass of blankets on the bed, the top of Michael's head barely visible in it. You stepped in and closed the door, taking a seat next to the bed.

"We got a packet today in algebra, and some notes for US history. No new reading assignment from English, though," you said.

"I don't care," he grumbled.

"You should. I know that-" You let out a sigh, shaking your head. "I know this is hard, and you're not having a good time, but you should at least try and finish school. M-... Dad said you can't get a job if you don't at least graduate," you said.

"I. Don't. Care."

You tilted your head back, looking up at him.

"... talk to me. What's going on in your head?"

"Oh, ya know, one of my best friends fucking died, and my mom divorced my dad, and my brother is already dead cause of me. So life's just fucking perfect!" he snapped, glaring at you. "I definitely want to do school work while my dad fights to keep custody of me and Liz and is begging my mom to come back and try to work through all this! I definitely wanna go to classes and pretend that everything is fine! Cause it's not! None of this is fine!"

With a huff, Michal buried himself further in the pile of blankets. You moved to sit on the bed, feeling under the blankets until you found his back and gently began to rub it.

"It's not your fault," you whispered.

"H-how?"

"You... you didn't know. N-none of us knew- I mean, how could we? It's... it's not your fault. I mean, it- it is in some ways, but... there was no ill intention. I-it's not like you wanted Evan to die, or Charlie to get killed," you tried to reason.

"That doesn't change that everyone I care about is gone. Next, e-either you or dad o-or Liz... all of you are gonna leave me somehow..."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You wished you could say otherwise. It wasn't the best time to tell him, was it?

"We're not leaving you. I'm not, at least," you said.

Not without a fight.

"Promise?"

"... promise."

You sat in the hospital room, folding yet another paper crane. Your hands burned, and you could barely feel your fingers. Something deep within you told you this wouldn't work, that doing all this was pointless, but it still brought you some comfort. It was nice to believe in completing a task to get the chance to make one wish. Then again, if you did get a wish, you didn't want to use it on yourself.

You heard a groan next to you, causing you to look down. Michael shifted slightly in his spot, his face scrunched up. You placed a hand on his head, watching his expression slowly soften.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

You thought you could keep all of this a secret from him. You didn't want to cause him any more pain, especially when Elizabeth died during a gas leak during the grand opening of a new Fazbear location. But, when the first round of chemo started and your hair all fell out, you knew you couldn't exactly hide it. You had to tell him what was happening.

"(y/n)..?"

Michael slowly looked up. He glanced at the hand that was on his head before shooting up. He grabbed onto your hand, inspecting it before glaring at you.

"You need to stop this! Look at your hand!"

"It's fine."

"No it's not! They're so red! And I can see a bunch of papercuts! This- this isn't good for you!"

"It's not like it matter! I'm probably gonna die anyway. So what if I mess up my hands at this point?" you grumbled.

You could see Michael clench his fists as he stood up.

"You're not gonna die."

"You don't know that."

"You're not gonna die! You promised!" he screamed.

"Well I can't control that anymore!" you yelled back.

You watched as Michael grabbed a handful of the cranes you made that day and started tearing them apart. Your voice caught in your throat as you just stared at him. Once he was done, he threw the paper shreds at you. You stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the colorful paper in your lap. Tears welled up in your eyes as your lip trembled.

"(y/n), I-I-"

"Shut up."

Michael went quiet as you slowly collected the pieces of paper. Holding them in your hands, you let out a dry chuckle. This was so stupid. You grabbed the crane you had just finished, ripping it to shreds.

"(y/n)!"

"What? You said they weren't good for me."

"That's- I didn't-" With a sigh, Michael took a seat back on the chair that he had dragged next to your bed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he said.

"It's fine... probably wouldn't have gotten a wish even if I did finish all of them," you mumbled.

"What were you gonna wish for?" he asked.

"I don't really know," you said.

"You... wouldn't wish to get better?"

"Maybe, but... I don't really know if I want to wish for myself anymore. Maybe I can make a wish for you?"


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