Chapter Text
1975
Six-year-old Michael Afton crept into his parents’ room, long after he should have been in bed, and tip-toed over to his little sister’s bassinet, grasping the side and trying to peer down into it. When the attempt proved mostly unsuccessful, he went to his mother’s vanity and slowly pulled the chair away from it, careful not to wake his parents, until he could climb up into it to look in on baby Elizabeth.
He had hardly gotten to see her when she had come home earlier that morning, as his mother had been far too busy fussing over her, so this was his first really good look.
He expected her to be ugly. Or maybe it was just that he wanted her to be. Some wretched little monster that he didn’t have to like, if only because his parents, especially his father, had been fawning over her before she was even born. Sometimes, it made Michael wonder if they even remembered him.
It was unfortunate, really, how sweet she looked.
His eyes widened, staring down at the tiny creature, her head turned to the side, with faint wisps of hair the same shade of auburn as her mother’s. As he watched her sleep, her little body rising and falling with her breath, he felt something change in his chest, letting out a tiny whimper as he gently reached down into the bassinet, touching her head with a shaking hand, like he was scared she might break.
“Hi,” His voice came out squeaky and weird, and his eyes felt hot. “I’m Mikey, I’m your big brother.” He swiped a hand across his nose, his lip wobbling. “I’m sorry I didn’t like you before you were born. I like you now, I promise.”
“Michael, what are you doing up?” His mother’s voice drifted over from the bed, and he froze, looking toward her as she slowly sat up, rubbing her face. “...Leave the baby alone. She’ll still be here in the morning.”
He pouted somewhat, as she came over and lifted him out of the chair, carrying him back to his room.
“How come she gets to sleep in your room?” He mumbled, as she tucked him back into his bed.
“She’s too little to be by herself.” His mother explained, tiredly ruffling his hair. “And she wakes up a lot and needs food, or a diaper.”
“Why does she get to eat after bed?” Michael gasped, looking affronted as he sat bolt upright, and despite herself, his mother bit back a laugh.
“You got to, too, when you were a baby.” She gently pushed him back onto his bed. “Go to sleep, Mikey. If you stay in bed the rest of the night, I’ll let you hold her after breakfast.”
The idea both thrilled and terrified him.
The next morning, after the table had been cleared, he sat squirming on the couch while his mother finished changing the baby’s diaper, his eyes wide when she came to sit next to him. She instructed him to hold out his arms, and carefully transferred Elizabeth to him, showing him how to support her head, explaining how to hold her to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt.
He hardly blinked as he held her, staring like he thought that if he took his eyes off her for a moment, she would somehow fall out of his arms. But oh, how he loved his baby sister, despite everything. It was hard to blame her for anything when she was so precious.
“You have to take care of her, Mikey.” His mother whispered, looking down at Elizabeth, her arms around Michael to help keep the baby secure. “She’s fragile. Can you do that?”
He nodded silently in reply, tightening his grip.
He absolutely would take care of her.
1978
Three years later
The thing was, Michael’s parents didn’t actually get good at planning things until after their eldest son was already born.
He was pretty smart, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that between himself and his three year old sister, Elizabeth was the favourite. He understood, as much as a boy his age could, that he had surprised his parents, but since they had talked about her for a long time, he assumed that she hadn’t. So while he did often take care of her, and play all of the silly little games she asked of him, he was known to make a nuisance of himself as well, and took some guilty delight in tormenting her from time to time. It took away some of the sting from seeing the way she got spoiled.
“Mikey! Give it!” She whined, reaching for the doll he was dangling above her head.
“Mikey, give it!” He mocked, standing on tip-toe to dangle it higher. “Why don’t you come and get it?”
“Michael!” His father’s voice from the doorway caused him to flinch, dropping the doll, which his sister quickly scooped up. “Stop teasing her.”
“I was just playing!” He defended, crossing his arms with a pout.
“She’s little. That’s not playing for her.” His father strode across the room, lifted his daughter into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re being a brat.”
“I am not!” Michael frowned. “Why do you gotta like her better than me? She bit me yesterday!”
“You scared her.” His father said flatly. “She was just acting like a toddler. That was your fault.”
He notably did not remark on Michael’s observation of his favouritism.
It wasn’t the best kept secret. William Afton had had no issues telling Michael directly that he had been unplanned, though the word he had actually used had been more brutal–a mistake. He had gone back and corrected himself to ‘accident’, when his wife had shot him a horrified, dirty look, but she had seemed none too pleased with that word choice either, especially since it did nothing to ease the look of hurt confusion on Michael’s face.
“What does that mean? That I’m an accident?”
“He meant that you were a surprise, dear. Not an accident. Neither of us quite expected you, at least not so soon.” She had pointed to her then-pregnant belly, as she rubbed his back. “This was supposed to be you. Then your little brother or sister would be later.”
His mother was generally nicer about it, but he got the idea that she, too, was disappointed that Michael had come along too early. Of course, being young, the whole concept of a baby being an accident was still just beyond his scope of comprehension. As far as he was aware, the parents involved had to decide they wanted one and then go about getting it. He was past the age of believing in things such as a stork dropping off a baby in a sack, but William had also done a very poor job of explaining the ins and outs of what actually went into the process, leaving his son with more questions than answers.
He reasoned to himself that maybe they decided to test it out first, so that when they were ready they would know what to do. Something must have gone wrong while they were practicing. But it still didn’t make much sense to him. All he really understood was that his sister was daddy’s little girl, and he was just the other kid that lived in the house.
He frowned at William, unconsciously rubbing at his arm where his sister had bitten him the previous day, watching his father bounce her gently, cooing at her in a much softer tone than he had ever used before with Michael.
“If you don’t play nicely with her, you’re going to go to your room, and you won’t come out until dinner.” William murmured, glancing at him. “Do I make myself clear?”
“...Yeah.” Michael mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Better.” William sat Elizabeth back on the floor, watching her cuddle her doll for a moment, before looking back at Michael. “Did you finish your homework?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All of it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go get it. I need to check it.”
Michael slunk out of the room, to go dig his homework sheets out of his book bag, and brought them back to his father, passing them along without making eye contact. William took his glasses from his shirt pocket, and his frown only deepened as he took out a pen next, making some marks on one of the papers, before handing them back. “Redo those.”
Michael took the paper, and pouted, staring at it. “But those ones are hard. Can you help me?”
“You need to learn to do it yourself. And I have work that needs to get done.”
“For the diner?”
“Yes.”
“Can I help?”
William paused at that, watching his son for a moment over the rim of his glasses. “...Once you fix your homework, come see me, and we’ll talk.” He said finally. That alone gave Michael a surge of energy, and he grinned, rushing forward to hug his father tightly. William startled at the contact, and awkwardly patted his head. “...Fix your division, Michael. And be nice to Elizabeth,” he muttered, before peeling his son off of him, and carefully stepping around his daughter as he left the room.
Michael beamed, and started to rush off, but paused briefly in the doorway, glancing around, before running back over and falling to his knees in front of his sister. “Sorry I took your doll, Lizzie.” He mumbled. “I was just playing.”
She looked up at him, frowning very severely, for a toddler. “No, listen.” She held up the doll. “Look.”
Michael watched, somewhat confused as she made the doll dance around, singing a happy little song, before suddenly turning back to him, frowning again. “That! That playing. Not…ahhh!” She toppled backwards, making the doll yell as she hit the ground. “That not nice, Mikey!” She rolled over, eyeballing him. “‘Stand?”
He bit back a giggle, grinning at her. “...Yeah, Lizzie. I ‘stand.”
She beamed, and ran over to hug him as he stood up. “Love you, Mikey!”
“Love you, too, dumb dumb.” He ruffled her hair, pretending not to notice her offended little gasp as he scurried off to tend to his homework.
He rushed through it quickly, at least, he tried to; he was no good at math, and division in particular was not really his strong suit. But he wanted to make it to his father’s office before William changed his mind. So he came up with some answers different to the ones he had had before, shoved his papers back in his bag, and hurried to the office, staring up at the door for a long moment, before carefully knocking on it.
He heard a chair scrape against the floor inside, and a moment later, the lock clicked, and William glanced out through a thin gap between the door and the frame. He stared at Michael, then cleared his throat.
“...The homework?”
“I fixed it.”
“That was fast.”
“...You still need help?”
William pursed his lips, before stepping aside to let Michael into the office. “...Go have a seat. Not in my chair, in another one.”
Michael giddily did as directed, dragging another heavy chair up to his father’s desk and climbing into it, sitting criss cross, until William scolded him to sit properly. He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the seat of the chair, peering at the array of papers all over the desk.
“Whatcha working on?” He hummed, daring not to touch anything. William sat down next to him, glancing sidelong at his son, before picking up a sketchbook off the table.
“...At the moment, I’m trying to come up with new friends for FredBear and Bonnie.” He explained after a moment. “Business hasn’t been as good, lately, so I thought I might try to add some new characters in the mix.”
“Is that a fox?” Michael asked hopefully, pointing at the page his father had the book open to. “Are you gonna make a fox?”
“I had thought about it, yes.” William watched him. “Good idea, or no?”
“I love foxes–” Michael started to bounce in his seat, but quickly reigned it in when his father’s brow creased. He straightened his posture, and cleared his throat. “...I think a fox is a good idea. Is he a red fox? I like red foxes.”
“Yes,” William nodded, smiling a bit, despite himself. “Indeed.”
“When are you going to make him?”
“...That, is a very good question, Michael.” William frowned, and reached for another book on the desk, flipping it open and showing it to him. “This is why you need to work on your math. It’s important to know when you’re keeping track of your money.”
Michael frowned, his eyes darting across the page. “What do all the red numbers mean?”
“That’s money I’ve spent this last month. And the blue is money I’ve earned.”
“There’s a lot more red than blue,” Michael observed.
William looked pained. “Yes. Remember the leak in the kitchen at the diner? That’s most of it. I had to have almost everything replaced.”
“That’s why you want a new costume,” Michael guessed. “Because then lots of people would want to come and see it, and they’d buy food and have parties so they could see the fox.”
“Exactly that. See? You can be quite clever if you try.”
The compliment, albeit not particularly huge, made Michael’s heart swell. But his attention was quickly diverted to something else on the desk, and he frowned, pointing. “What does that mean? Past due? What’s past due?”
William’s jaw immediately tensed, and he snatched the bill off the desk, along with a couple others like it, and shoved them into a drawer. “Nothing. It means nothing. And nothing is past due. And your mother doesn’t know, so I’d appreciate you not telling her.”
“...If nothing’s wrong then what am I supposed to not tell her?”
“Just–Don’t mention any of that.” William said firmly. “...Maybe you should go see if she needs help with dinner.”
“Wait,” Michael leaned forward, desperate. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Can I please help? Can you show me the numbers again? And–and–the math? Can you show me the math? It’ll help my school!”
“Go see your mother.” William stood, nudging Michael out of the chair, and toward the door.
“But Dad! What about the fox? What if we talk about the fox instead? When are you gonna make him? Is it gonna take a long time like FredBear and Bonnie? What are you going to name him? What–”
He fell silent when William deposited him outside the office door, and shut it, flinching when he heard the lock click.
Well. That was short lived.
He swore to himself that next time he got invited in, he wouldn’t say a word, unless his father directly asked him a question.
Just when he was getting ready to go see his mother, she showed up in the hall with Elizabeth in her arms, an odd little expression on her face. Michael stared, trying to decipher the slight upturn of her mouth, the twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, good. You’re here too.” She walked up to the office door and knocked on it, and before Michael could get a word out, the door swung open.
“Michael, I thought I–” William stopped short when he realised he was face to face with his wife. “...Clara. I’m sorry, I thought…” He slowly tipped his head, seeming to notice her face. “...What is it…?”
She grinned, glancing around at all of them. “I have news, for everyone.” She said simply. “But I wanted to tell you first. I was going to wait until dinner, but I can’t wait anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow, but took Elizabeth from her arms and passed her down to Michael, before curling an arm around her waist and guiding her into the office, closing the door behind them. Michael set Elizabeth down quickly, once she started squirming, and pressed his ear to the door, but all he could hear were his parents speaking in hushed tones. He jumped back from the door when it opened again, surprised to see his father grinning from ear to ear.
“What? What is it?!” Michael demanded.
Clara laughed softly, kneeling down to pick up Elizabeth when she reached up for her, whining. “Well, I went to the doctor today, and...you’re going to be a big brother again, Michael. And Lizzie is going to be a big sister.”
“But I’m little.” Elizabeth protested. “Little sister, mama.”
“No, Lizzie,” Michael’s voice sounded strange even to his own ears. He felt suddenly as though the floor had collapsed out from underneath him, and he was falling, falling, just waiting to land in a heap. “She means she’s going to have a baby.”
He turned away slowly, his stomach churning. Another baby. One that would undoubtedly push him even further down the list of his parents’ priorities. He heard Elizabeth, distantly, asking a million questions, his mother, asking him if he was alright, wasn’t he happy? But he didn’t respond, just hurried down the hall toward his room, closing the door behind him and falling face first into his bed.
Sometime later, Clara slipped into the room. He didn’t look up, but he knew it was his mother from the way she gently shut the door behind her, and felt her weight dip the mattress as she sat down next to him.
“Mike?” he moved away when he felt her fingers in his hair. “Mike, tell me what’s wrong. Why are you upset?”
“I don’t want you to have another baby.” He whispered, after a long time.
“Why ever not?”
“...Because.” he mumbled, rolling over to look up at her, his eyes damp. “If you have another baby, you and dad will ignore me again. Like you did when Lizzie was born. And you’ll just like this baby more than me, same as Lizzie. And you’ll forget all about me, and I’ll be all by myself.”
Clara’s face contorted, and he couldn’t quite make out what her expression was, but she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “...None of that is really true, Mike. What makes you think that?”
“It is true! You and dad like Lizzie more than me, and you’ll like this baby more too.” He scooted away from her. “I don’t want it. And if you have another baby, I’m gonna run away and go live with Jeremy.”
Jeremy Fitzgerald was his best friend, that he had met last year at school. The two had immediately been as thick as thieves, and regularly played together in the woods behind one of their houses, or at the diner. His mom, whom Michael referred to simply as Mrs. Fitz, was always very sweet to him, spoiling him with little treats and snacks whenever he was over, and at that very moment he had a sandwich bag of her chocolate chip cookies hidden in a box under his bed.
“Now, that’s quite dramatic.” Clara frowned, watching him. “Mike, your father and I don’t love you or Lizzie more than the other one. And we won’t love the new baby more than either of you. You’re all our kids, we love you all the same.
Michael grunted, and distantly, wondered why it was okay for adults to lie, but his father spanked him with a belt when he did it.
After seeing that the conversation was going nowhere, Clara sighed, leaning over once more to kiss his head. “...I don’t know what more I can say to convince you, dear. But…dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so do make sure you come get some. You know your dad doesn’t like anyone eating outside of mealtimes.”
No, Michael thought, that wasn’t it. He didn’t like his son to eat outside of mealtimes. The other members of the household usually got away with it.
When she left, Michael rolled out of bed and fetched his secret stash of cookies, sitting criss-cross in the floor, trying very carefully not to drop any crumbs on the carpet.
He was fairly certain in his decision, that he would not like the new baby. And he was also unwaveringly firm in his belief that said baby’s arrival would only push him further to the side. But she had only just found out, so that meant he had time, right? He could certainly figure out something to do about it.