Chapter Text
When you wake up the next morning, every single atom of your body doesn’t want to roll out of the warmth of your bed.
You still do though, because getting fired on your first day for being a no-show would be just about the most humiliating thing to happen to you.
Kicking your legs free from the blanket, you stumble through your apartment with the gait of a blind zombie, halfheartedly brushing your tangled hair out of your eyes as you go through your morning routine: brush your teeth, take a shower, kick aside moving boxes you hadn’t bothered with since you moved in last week, gulp down a hasty breakfast…
Then time came for you to dress for work. After the tour yesterday, you were given three sets of uniform shirts tailored specially for daycare assistants: polo shirts with sleeves up to your wrists, the colour scheme is a vibrant mix of contrasting hues that is split right down in the middle. Oranges and yellows on one side, blues and whites on the other, obviously meant to match with the Daycare Attendants. Graphics of a sun and a moon are printed just under your collar, and more patterns of stars and clouds litter the sleeves. Maybe they made the daycare uniforms so obnoxiously bright so that even toddlers could easily identify the trusted adult of the daycare. Or maybe they made it specifically to f*ck with your dry eyes on this particular Monday morning. You don’t know.
You pull on the uniform. It fits like a glove, the sleeves snug around your arms, and you slip on a spare plain tee over it. The result of that mixed wardrobe is an explosion of colours flowing out from under your tee’s shorter sleeves. Eh, it looks nice enough.
You pick up your backpack, filled with only the essentials: wallet, phone, keys, water bottle, and a nifty little gadget called, get this, a Faz-watch.
(One day, the Fazbear company is going to force their employees to legally add “Faz” to their names.)
You didn’t really get the explanation Melinda gave you the first time - apparently it’s originally meant to be given to birthday children (for an extra fee) - but the gist you got is that the watch acts as a common link between you and the other employees, being a walkie-talkie and a messaging device all in one. Hey, you’re not going to be the one to start complaining about free stuff.
With one last look at your dismal living space, you shoulder on your bag and leave for your first day of work.
You thank your foresight in choosing an apartment closer to the pizzaplex when you reach the ”Staff Only” entrance in record time. You tap your shiny new employee ID against the card reader. It beeps green, allowing you entry into the east break room.
You don’t bother leaving your belongings there. Melinda’s warning still ringing clear in your head - “Don’t bother, the daycare is at the other end of the building. Just bring your things with you and put it behind the security desk.” - you push past another door and step inside the pizzaplex proper.
The first thought to cross your mind is, ‘f*ck me sideways, this place is huge!’
Yes, you were given a tour yesterday, but it only covered “essential” areas like the Glamrock’s attractions. For everything else, you’re left to figure out yourself. Joy.
At least you remember the way to the daycare’s pick-up area. You begin to follow your memory’s footsteps, stepping through hallway after hallway until you enter the lobby entrance, marked by the gigantic golden Glamrock Freddy fountain that stands tall and grand in the middle of the lobby. That means that straight ahead is… Bingo.
You push past the swinging doors with the “Superstar Daycare Pick-Up” sign, and-
“Take a map.”
Your mind registering an object with a vaguely pointed shape being shoved in your direction is enough to send you flying back with a shout of alarm stuck in your throat, arms flying up to guard your face, legs dropping into a crouch. Unfortunately, blindly back up when you’re only halfway through a door turns out to be a bad idea, because the back of your head catches the sharp edge of the door frame, and you clutch your head in pain as the yelp finally rips free. “Motherf*ck, that hurts-“
“Take a map.”
The “pointed object” turns out to be a map printed on glossy paper, and the person offering you said map is a S.T.A.F.F bot with a sun hat, wire frames that resemble glasses and a big “i” dotted on its yellow chest. You snatch it up with a heavy blush creeping up your neck, and it rolls off immediately in the opposite direction.
… Wait, doesn’t your Faz-watch already have a digital map?
‘So I’m on the ground, my head hurts, and I have a map that I don’t need.’
This first day is just going swimmingly, and your shift hasn’t even started yet.
Once the bonk on your noggin’ has faded considerably, you get back to your feet and continue your way to the daycare. More S.T.A.F.F bots roam the floor with mops in hand, but thankfully none of them try to scare you with a map again. They do watch you as you go by them, though, and the unchanging stares start to make your skin prickle. “Um, hey.” You give one bot a small wave. “It’s my first day here and I wanted to get a head start on work, so… please don’t freak out on me?”
It doesn’t respond. It just… stares. Feeling a little silly now, you simply go on your way again. It doesn’t try to stop you, at least, instead going back to its mopping like nothing happened.
Reaching the wooden doors, you don’t see any staff nor the animatronic through the huge viewing windows. Just the playground structure and neatly stacked toys. ‘I’m not gonna complain about that. That Sun guy did not sound happy with me being here,’ you think, reaching down to pull the doors open.
Click, click.
It’s locked? Huh, that’s weird. You try once more, then give it a swift kick for good measure, but the doors remain as unyielding as before. Your eye twitches. “Great, thing’s just keep getting better,” you mutter, stamping out the pain in your poor toes. “Now what?”
You weren’t given a staff key the other day. Not like that matters, because Melinda explicitly told you that the door would be left open for you because the shutters to the reception area aren’t actually raised until opening hours. So that means your only option is…
‘Welp. I hope Sun doesn’t hate me too much for this.’
You raise a fist and begin raising hell on the door. It rattles on its hinges as you bang with all your might, and you keep one eye on the daycare for a glimpse of moving yellow… There! You see a spiky head poke out from the bottom of a slide, co*cked at you. You wave frantically at him and gesture at the door.
He doesn’t even twitch, much less come out of the slide. His white, blank eyes stare at you from afar, and just as your arms tire from pointing furiously at the locked door, his head finally jerks left, then right.
It takes your brain a moment to process. You blink incredulously at him. “N-no? What do you mean, no?” you ask, the first cracks of frustration starting to creep into your voice.
He doesn’t respond. Right, soundproofed walls. You sigh to yourself, scrubbing at the tired ache that settles in your eyes. “Fine, I’ll just… find another employee, I guess,” you mumble, more to yourself.
Sun’s head retreats back up the slide. Without any other way to get in from here, you’re left with no choice but to head up to the lobby again. You pull out the Faz-watch and slap it on your wrist, squinting at the tiny screen. “Hello? Is someone there?” you say halfheartedly into the walkie-talkie function.
Static.
That’s about what you expected. Shaking your head, you’re just about resigned yourself to waiting out in the lobby to wait for one of your coworkers when an unexpected voice calls out to you.
“Hello, are you the new daycare assistant?”
You whirl around, heart in your throat. “Who-wha-wh-! …Oh.”
Just a few feet away from you, regarding you with a look of genuine concern, is an orange bear animatronic with neon blue markings on his face and chest, a proportionally tiny hat sat atop his head.
It’s Glamrock Freddy himself.
“Um.” Quick, say something cool, something witty, anything- “You’re Freddy.”
f*ck.
Surprisingly, that stupid observation doesn’t get you derision or an eye roll, but a little chuckle. “You’re quite correct! And you must be the daycare assistant, I take it?”
“Y-yeah! Sorry, I just wasn’t… expecting you to be walking about,” you say a little lamely. “Sorry, but how do you know I’m going to work at the daycare?”
His mouth parts quirking up into a smile - strange, he can do it but Sun seemingly can’t - Freddy points at his forearms. Oh right, the uniform sleeves are poking out. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you visit the establishment before. Is this your first day working with us?” he asks, his glowing blue eyes peering at you a bit too closely for your liking.
You nod hesitantly.
His ears perk up. “Then let me have the first honor of welcoming you to the Fazbear family.” Freddy sweeps into a low bow and tips his hat to you, much to your mortification. “I look forward to working with you, Superstar!”
Cheeks burning fiercely, you frantically wave for him to stop. “Please, you don’t have to do that, it’s not a big deal, I’m just here to do a job, please just get up,” you hiss, words tumbling out gracelessly as you reach down to pull him back up. “Seriously, I haven’t done anything to deserve this!”
Freddy gives a hearty guffaw as he stands himself straight again. “My apologies! It’s just that it’s been a while since the daycare had a new worker, so I thought you deserved a proper introduction.” Is it just you, or do you detect a teasing lilt in his voice? “But I do want to ask, why are you here at this hour? The daycare won’t be open until nine a.m.”
A change in topic! Quick, grab it before you lose your chance!
“Daycare! That’s right, I forgot!” you blurt out, surprising the poor guy. “I’m trying to get in, but the door’s locked!”
“Locked?”
You emphatically nod. “Yeah, and I don’t think Sun’s able to open it on his side either. Do you know another way I can get in?”
Freddy looks at you oddly for a moment, but before you can decipher what that expression is supposed to convey, he says, “I believe I do. Shall I show you the way?” and offers a hand.
The sight makes your heart squeeze from sheer embarrassment. Is this act of gentlemanliness just his programming doing work here, or is it…? No. You quickly push the thought out of your head. It’s just his AI telling him to treat the newbie nicer, that’s all.
“S-sure.” Trying not to shrivel up on the spot, you take the offered hand, your eyes looking at anywhere but Freddy himself. “Lead the way, then.”
You hear a soft laugh, and Freddy tugs you along the pizzaplex grounds towards the reception room. You feel, stupidly, like a lost child being led to the “Lost and Found” section, except somehow, it’s hard to feel any real indignation towards the bear. He’s been so warm and welcoming right off the bat when he barely knows anything about you, even if it’s just how he’s been modelled to act, it feels wrong to yank your hand out of his hold.
So you simply curl your hand around his one big finger and follow along.
Neither of you speak a word of conversation during the short trip, and soon enough, you both find yourselves in front of the reception room, now closed off by a shutter with paintings of fluffy clouds and suns splashed across it. You glance over at Freddy with a raised eyebrow.
“One moment.” His eyes flash brighter for a few seconds before dimming again, and the shutter rumbles to life. Your expressions morphs into pleasant surprise.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” you say. “They seriously allow you to open up areas just like that?”
“It comes with the job, although I’m afraid to say that this privilege doesn’t apply to the important areas like Parts and Services. We only have access to basic rooms, although,” He gives you a sheepish grin, leaning closer to you to whisper conspiratorially, “I am technically not allowed to do this except in emergencies. So if anyone asks, please don’t mention my part in this, will you?”
“‘Course,” you say breezily. Anything for the guy who just saved you from being stranded outside.
You give your thanks, and are about to leave for the daycare when Freddy stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Ah, one moment, please. There’s something I’d like to tell you before you go.”
Once you give him your full attention, he says, “If you require any assistance, and I mean any, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us.”
Oh. Your shoulders relax marginally; you’d thought it’d be about something more serious. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, man,” you say. “My supervisor told me already.”
You thought that is the end of it, but Freddy doesn’t let go just yet. “I don’t just mean your human coworkers, Superstar. You can reach out to any of us.”
You look blankly at him, and then it clicks. “The Glamrocks?” you ask, unable to completely keep the incredulity out of your voice. “Aren’t you guys extremely busy all the time, though? I didn’t even get to see any of you guys yesterday.”
“You’re correct in that regard,” he admits, “but I have a responsibility as a leader to look out for our friends.”
“‘Friends?” Okay, now that’s a bit much. The most popular animatronic, the main star of the show, considers you, a stranger that can’t keep even human company around themself, a friend within five minutes of meeting them. It’s only natural that you have some doubts about it.
(But you can’t deny that it sends butterflies to your stomach all the same.)
With one last pat on your shoulder so gentle that doesn’t even make your knees shake, Freddy lumbers off, leaving you with your many thoughts.
You spend approximately one second standing there before you decide aloud, ”Nope, not thinking about this.”
It has to be just his programming doing the talking here. It has to be.
You hurry into the daycare. The reception room looks the same as yesterday, with the obvious exception of the parents and kids hopped up on fizzy sodas. You do a lap around the room, but you don’t see any obvious way into the playroom besides…
You stare at the yawning mouth of the tube slide. It seems… deeper than you’d initially thought.
Is this really allowed…?
‘Well, the alternative is staying outside like a dumbass. So I have to do this.’ Your sigh comes out exasperated. Slipping off your shoes, you stick them in your bag before hauling yourself onto the rim of the slide. You gaze into the colourful abyss under the feet, and the abyss gazes back, the anticipation making your heart rate tick up bit by bit until the a loud ba-dumb of your heart startles your fingers loose.
You plummet.
The ride down only lasts five seconds, but to you, it feels like five hours of a rainbow blur, whistling wind in your ears and your internal screaming as you skid down, down, down towards a gleaming light at the end of the tunnel-
BAM!
You land in a ball pit, the clack-clack-clacks of plastic balls raining down all around you, and as if that wasn’t embarrassing enough already, the force flips you forward and sends you faceplanting into the sea of plastic balls. The hard plasticballs. f*cking ow.
Breathing heavily, you push yourself up on shaky arms, slipping a little on the smooth plastic. Your chest feels close to bursting from the sheer force of your racing heart, and your nose hurts like a bitch, but strangely… you still enjoyed the experience.
“Man, kids really ride these things every day? They’re sturdier than I give them credit for,” you huff under your breath. “Now to find Sun.”
Just then, a tall, sun-shaped shadow blots out the light above you. Your breath catches in your throat.
Ah.
Never mind, it seems that Sun has found you instead.
Two slender hands slip under your armpits and lift you as easily as a feather. Your legs instinctively lashes out and finds solid metal (much to the chagrin of you and your toes), but your ascent doesn’t slow in the slightest, not until you are face-to-face with unblinking eyes. All before you can utter a word.
“Hi?” It comes out squeakier than intended.
“Adults,” he grounds out, eyes narrowed into slits, “are not allowed on the slide. That’s against the rules.”
Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you truly worry. “sh*t, sorry, I didn’t-“
“NO BAD LANGUAGE ALLOWED!”
Your whole body flinches. The Daycare Attendant’s voice is already loud at its normal level, but when agitated, he’s basically digging rusty nails into your ears. “Sorry, sorry, I really didn’t know. Really,” you insist, legs helplessly kicking in the air. At his tallest, he easily holds you a foot above ground; something you try not to dwell on. “The door was locked and you couldn’t open it, so I had to find another way in…”
His sun rays draw back into his head a little.
“Your heart is beating quite fast, Friend! You’re not, oh I don’t know, lying to me, are you? Because that’s a veeeeery naughty thing of you to do!” He suddenly leans in closer until both of you are only inches apart. An erratic giggle bursts from his voice box. “You even got through the shutters when you don’t have the authorisation for it! And it’d be such a pity to have to BAN you on your first day, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s my first time on a slide!” you blurt out. The admission seems to stun Sun, who pulls away with an unreadable expression. You don’t blame him, because it also makes you want to crawl into a hole to die, but he had gotten dangerously close to asking about the daycare shutters and Freddy. “Um… It’s kinda stupid, but I didn’t expect to slide down that fast, got a little surprised, might have smacked my face a bit, but…”
You duck your head down, bracing yourself for your next words..
“… it’sactuallyprettyfun.”
Sun falls silent. Smashing your dignity to bits for the sake of a very kind bear is a good thing, you tell yourself as you pretend to examine an interesting spot next to his jester shoes. Even if Freddy was moving way too fast into the “friend” department for your liking, there’s no reason to not at least stick to his one request.
Then Sun abruptly twists his torso ninety degrees and dumps you on the thin foam mats. A jolt of pain forces a hiss out of you as your shoulder hits the ground at an awkward angle.
“How funny!” Sun giggles, the derision dripping from his voice suggesting the opposite. “A daycare assistant that’s scared of slides!”
Oh jeez. Maybe the distraction worked a little too well. “Hey, I didn’t say scared-“
“If a little slide like that is enough to give you a heart attack, then I don’t think being a daycare assistant is really for you!” he cuts you off. His fingers wags at you scoldingly. “What if you drop dead?! Oh, you’ll surely make the kiddies cry and that is not allowed in the daycare! Yes, you working here is a bad, terrible, no-good idea, Friend! You should go! Bye-bye!”
Sighing, you push yourself to your feet, one hand rubbing your aching shoulder. “Yeah, nice try, buddy. I’m not going anywhere,” you deadpan. “Now can we get to the part where you show me how to do my job?”
His rays flick backwards in consternation. Oh, you’re just realising that they act like cat ears. Adorable.
“Sure thing, Friend! Here’s what you can do,” He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you aaaaall the way to the back of the playroom, towards an area behind the playground that isn’t as well lit, not caring about the way you stumble in your attempt to match his longer strides. He pulls open a foam-covered door you hadn’t seen before, revealing a dinky storage space with stacks of cardboard boxes on shelves and floor alike, caked in a layer of eye-watering dust. A musty scent that speaks of prolonged disuse wafts out.
“You,” He points at you with the sweetest smile that definitely doesn’t promise ill intentions whatsoever, “will make sure this space is kept nice and full of lovely arts-and-crafts supplies for my little superstars!”
He splays his hand on his chest. “I will take care of everything else! There, lesson over!”
“… Are you kidding.” There’s a crack in your carefully controlled tone, and you glare up at Sunny. “This looks like it’s been abandoned for years. Do you seriously let the kids touch this?”
Sun mock-gasps, his eyes narrowing into twin pinpricks of light. “How could you? Of course not! I have my own private supplies, thank you very much!” He turns his nose up at you. Well, you think that’s what he’s doing, because it just looks like he’s tilting his head up at an angle.
“‘Private supplies?! Then what’s even the point of- Okay, no, I know you’re sticking with this only because you literally can’t leave the daycare. I really don’t want to have to start a fight on my first day, but there’s no way I- OI!”
Sun whirls around with a snap of his heel before you finish speaking, skipping off and leaving you to fume in his wake. You have half a mind to chase him down, but the memory of being carried around like you weighed nothing makes you pause mid-step. It’s might not do good for your well-being to piss off the robot that weighs over a hundred pounds and can probably benchpress ten of you, the rational part of your mind points out.
You’re not satisfied with being stuck with what’s essentially inventory duty by any measure, but unless Sun gets a ding in his head and forgets his disdain for you, you're on you own to find another way to make yourself useful as the Daycare Assistant and NOT as a goddamn errand guy.
You spend the rest of the time until opening hours just cleaning up the whole damn room. You had to take a quick traipse around the four walls of the daycare looking for cleaning materials because someone doesn’t want to be helpful, but you don’t find anything like that, and in the end, you have to resort to asking the first human employee to come into the daycare (he calls himself Edison, the security guard in charge of the set-up behind the huge desk). He points out the cleaning storage on your paper map, and you eventually find yourself armed with a half-dozen cleaning rags, a mop, a face mask for yourself, cleaning solution, and a whole lot of determination in the face of the boss battle of dust bunnies.
You roll up your sleeves. 'Let's get this over with.'
You tackle the back first. Carrying out every single box is a time-consuming task, and even when most of the room’s contents have been piled outside, you have a difficult time manoeuvring through the room. ‘I’m starting to see why Sun doesn’t use this place,’ you think to yourself wryly. If someone your size can’t fit comfortably here, then there’s no chance in hell that Sun can squeeze inside without causing a mini earthquake.
By the time you start the actual clean-up, the doors have finally opened to the customers. You first hear the splash of plastic balls and a child’s gleeful chatter, then Sun’s own voice booming with such infectious joy as he goes to greet each and every one of them, and rinse and repeat until the whole daycare is bustling with activity before the clock hits ten.
“Jameson! I’ve missed you so, so much!”
“Oooh, is that a new hair-tie, Ashley? It’s so sparkly!”
“No biting in the ball pit, Danny, or you’re going into timeout!”
“Lily! Watch your feet, little star, there you go…”
“Sophie, is that a Moon plushie? I’m so jealous!”
You don’t get to see any of this, though. Elbow deep in grime and dirt, you’re solely focused on scrubbing out the ash-grey layers clinging onto the floor and walls, putting your back into every drag of the cleaning rag before dunking it back into the bucket of rapidly muddying cleaning solution. It’s hard work for sure, and it takes you a solid three hours of non-stop grinding the cloth across every inch surface of this place with your knuckles before it no longer itches your skin or makes your eyes water.
Finally, at around one-thirty in the afternoon, your grubby self stumbles out into the artificial light of the daycare, arms stiffly held out like a zombie. Splotches of welts cover your forearms with a burning itch, an angry red and crawling under your skin like worms, and you clench your arms to temper it. It’s unfortunate, but at least you can hide it with your sleeves later.
You’d rather deal with a full-body case of dust allergies than another one of Sun’s jabs. You’re going to be suffering either way, so at least you’ll have the privilege of privacy this way
Your back is full of cramps and knots from being crouched over for hours on end scrubbing the underside of the shelves (the memory of the… crust down there still makes you gag), making it quite a task to pick up the cleaning supplies for the trip back to the west storage room. No one pays you much attention when you creep along the edge of the daycare grounds, except the parents nearest to the windows who give you a quick glance before returning to their phones.
The rest is a bit of a blur, thanks to both your exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to wash away the crud on you, but eventually you’re able to rinse yourself off in a random restroom and strip off the stuffy face mask. Now you are making your way back to the daycare, your throat dry and your arms screaming for sweet release from your stupid dust allergy. You don’t roll down your sleeves yet, though. The air-conditioning feels surprisingly nice against the red angry splotches.
You just turn round a corner when a lady’s voice calls out to you, “Wait up!”
‘Crap, a customer?’ is your first thought. Of all times, why does it have to be when you look like you’ve just lost to a hive of angry bees? But when you turn to ward her off, all preconceptions are chased away.
A chicken-based animatronic boldly walks up to you, her triangular earrings swinging with the motion. Her design is a little more out there than Freddy’s, having leg warmers on her legs - one pink and one green - studded bracelets on both wrists, and a little “hairdo” topped off with a vibrant pink bow. Each part of her body is coloured in a different shade of purple, pinks and greens, making her one of the more visually eccentric robots you’ve seen today.
“… Yes?” you say warily. After Freddy’s overly saccharine ”welcome to the family” spiel and Sun’s petty ass, you’re not sure what to expect.
Chica skids to a halt in front of you. “New daycare worker, right?” Then she plows on without waiting for your response. “I’ve been everywhere looking for you!”
Your heart instantly skips a beat. “Y-you have? Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, pfft! It’s nothing like that, I just wanted to come say hi! You know, I tried calling out to you yesterday, but you completely blew me off,” Chica says, and although her beak isn’t able to express it, you can hear the pout in her voice.
“You did?” you say a bit helplessly, racking your memory of the tour from yesterday, but you don’t recall ever seeing her even in passing. You’d surely be able to remember a design like hers if you had, right?
Chica’s face softens. “Well, that doesn’t matter now! The only thing that’s important is that we’re meeting right now, so hi!” She strikes a pose, a hand propped on her hip and the other throwing out a peace sign. “I’m Glamrock Chica! Let’s find some time to share a pizza and chat, ‘kay?”
Your expression only screws up more with befuddlement.
She peers closer at you, and some of her customer service facade fades into a more concerned expression. “You feeling okay, hun?”
No. No, you are not.
Your mouth has been agape for the past minutes, your exhausted brain struggling to comprehend the waterfall of words falling out of her beak. Pizza? Chat? With how familiar she’s acting with you, you wonder if you’ve really already met her once and it just slipped your mind, because why else would she be acting this way? Scratch that, why would she even be acting this way in the first place? You don’t know each other!
This is somehow worse than Freddy. You need swift removal from the situation, now.
“… Daycare. Need to, um…” Your hand points in a vague direction behind you. “… Bye.”
You bolt away.
You faintly hear Chica call out to you, but your legs don’t stop until they’ve carried you all the way back to the daycare doors. Knees wobbling, back muscles screaming in protest, you make to duck into the safety of the daycare when the doors fly open on their own accord, revealing a lanky body on the other side.
“Oh. It’s you.” Sun’s voice is drier than a desert, his eyelids pulled down to give you a flat stare. He has a chubby toddler tugging on his neck ruffle in one hand, and the other is hovering over a slightly older kid clinging onto his pants. “You’ve been trapped in that dinky little closet for so, so, so long, , I almost forgot you’re even here.” His head creaks a fraction to the right with every “so”.
“Good for you.”
You don’t wait to see his reaction to your curt answer before ducking under his arm, hobbling back to the closet. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, but frankly, you don’t want to hear it until after you get the job done.
The boxes are still in the piles you had left them in. Now that the physically hard part is over, you buckle down into opening and sorting out the contents of the mysterious cardboard boxes.
Unsurprisingly, it’s a bunch of craft supplies. Glue, paper plates, crayons, paints… being kept taped up in boxes at least kept them dust-free, but it’s still a tedious chore to check the expiration dates of every single perishable item, then sorting them out in separate groups on the foam mats.
You soon fall into a soothing rhythm of checking, sorting, packing, then storing the still usable supplies back onto the cleaned shelves. As you pick up yet another box, its contents grabs your attention.
“Notebooks?” you murmur as you pick one up. This one is a regular A5-sized notebook, but the cover has a cartoony depiction of the Daycare Attendant’s other half that you’ve only seen in art form thus far, Moon. You’re not surprised to see that his appearance contrasts Sun’s in every way: instead of a sun, his head is modelled to look like a crescent moon with a night cap adorned atop. His colours are generally darker hues of blues, greys and yellows, with dark blue pants speckled with starry patterns instead of Sun’s striped ones. He’s depicted with a finger raised to his stiff smile in a shushing motion, the words “Sweet Dreams” printed underneath in matching colours.
… It looks cool.
Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder, and seeing Sun isn’t paying attention to you, you snatch your backpack and stuff your find inside. Surely they wouldn’t miss a single notebook that’s been in an unopened box for who-knows-how-long?
(If this gets you fired, you’re going to cry, laugh, and vomit in that exact order.)
You quickly clean up everything else, making sure the notebooks are hidden waaay back in the storage room, and take the box of expired crafts out of the daycare to toss out. The trip would’ve been a relatively quick one if not for the fact that you had to backtrack at times whenever you see Freddy or Chica in the distance, not wanting to get jumped by inexplicable friendliness, and by the time you return to the daycare, it’s already some time after pick-up hours.
The playroom grounds is cleared of any children. You give your surroundings an uneasy once-over. ‘It’s so quiet now… Yet the silence feels so loud. Does Sun live with this every night?’ you think, brows drawn together. You try to imagine it - alone in the middle of a desolate room of fun, with just your thoughts for fourteen hours straight until the daycare opens once more - and you shudder at the thought. ‘Ergh.’
You quickly shake it off. It’s not like there’s anything you can do about it; Sun can barely stand you during work hours, so he’d probably bite you if you tried to pity him. Just take your bag and skedaddle.
However, when you jog back, you see Sun standing eerily still in front of the storage room.
"Sun!" you call out, walking up to him. His head snaps around, but he doesn't say anything. He's just giving you an indecipherable look. "Sun?"
"You cleaned out the whole closet?"
The abrupt question catches you off guard. "Eh? Y-yeah," You cross your arms tightly across your chest, the pressure making the burning itch flare up. It helps calm your rapidly thumping heart a little. You even dare to ask, "Is it okay?"
Sun blinks in confusion, and you clarify, "The cleaning. Is it, I dunno," You twirl your hand in the air as if you can catch the answer if you tried hard enough, "to your standards?"
"You're asking me?"
The way he sounds so stupified like he's never had anyone ask for his opinion, it shoots a dart of pity straight into your chest. You can pretty much guess how he's been treated to react like this. "'Course, man," you say encouragingly. "You're the one who knows how to run this place, so it'd be stupid to ignore what you have to say."
That seems to have struck a chord in him. He twiddles his fingers, head bowed in deep thought. "Mmm... W-well, okay then! If you really want to know, then I guess I can explain it to you!" He puffs up with bravado and ducks into the closet.
You lean in as much as possible, watching with rapt attention as Sun rattles off different spots you'd missed earlier, jabbing his finger at each one in turn. He starts slow, frequently breaking off his own rambling to check if you’re paying attention, then when he sees you're still laser-focused on him, he goes back with a bit more vigour in his explanation of why citrus-based cleaning solution is best used for removing glue.
Nearly fifteen minutes pass before the both of you emerge from the closet. Sun skips out with a renewed pep in his step, while you barely manage to stagger out into the harsh light, head positively swimming with cleaning tips.
"Did you get all that?" he asks.
"Yep." You also hope you don't sound as dazed as you feel right now. "I'll... write all that down later.”
His hands make a loud clack when he claps them in delight. He beams down at you, for once not masking any kind of passive-aggressiveness, and you hesitantly return a small smile.
This is the most civil moment you’ve had with him, you realise. It feels nice.
Then the moment is broken when you try to give him a friendly bop on the arm. You squeak embarrassingly loud when he suddenly seizes your wrists mid-motion. “Ahaha… Too soon?” you laugh nervously, hoping he can’t hear your erratic heartbeats.
Sun’s face has gone flat again. You call out to him, but he doesn’t respond. When you try to pull away, you feel his fingers squeeze your wrist bones, and you stop breathing as the pressure spikes dangerously high, eyes flashing red-
And he hoists your arm to your eye level. “What happened?” Sun asks like nothing happened, pointing at the angry red hives.
Oh, that. A little laugh slips out, high-pitched from anxiety that has no reason to remain anymore. “I-I just got that from the dust in the closet,” you wave it off. “I’ll sleep it off, don’t worry.”
His eyes narrow into thin slits. Then Sun ducks down, and all of a sudden, your world is tipped on its axis as your feet leave the ground.
You yelp and reflexively reach out to grab a handhold, but there’s nothing to hold when you’re held like a pillow under Sun’s arm several feet in the air. “Oi, what are you doing?!” You thump his back to make him let go, but it only hurts your own knuckles. “Sun!”
He shushes you like a parent to their fussy kid. You kick and squirm madly, but it’s hopeless against the strength of an animatronic twice your height. Bile rises in your throat as the rocking motion continues, and just as you are about to threaten to throw up all over him, you’re gently set on a marginally soft surface. He had carried you to the daycare’s little “Rest Corner”, where all the medical supplies are kept. You take a moment to catch your breath.
”What. Was that about?”
”Nobody is allowed to walk around while injured, including employees,” Sun recites with a smile, tapping your nose a little too forcefully. “So you’ll be staying here while I tidy up the daycare!”
Injured?! You’d hardly call a little allergy reaction an injury.
You tell Sun as much, hoping that your little camaraderie earlier will help your case, but he seems to be outright ignoring you as he soaks hand towels under the tap and wrings out excess water. “I’m being serious here,” you fume as Sun carefully wraps the towels around the afflicted skin. The cool cloth eases the itching so well that it only annoys you even more. “Hello? Am I talking to myself here? It’s just some hives, I don’t need-“
You try to slide off the tabletop, but a vice grip clamps on your shoulders and shoves you back.
”Stay.”
… You decide to take this as your cue to shut up.
Once Sun is sure you’re not going anywhere, he sweeps off to go tidy up the toys and plastic balls strewn about, talking to himself all the while. You stay seated on the table, definitely not sulking when your Faz-watch breaks the silence.
You press the call button. “‘ullo.”
You hear Melinda’s voice call your name, and perk up a little. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check on you before I head out.” You hear rustling paper on the other end. “How is it so far? Did Sun give you any trouble?”
You wince, throwing a quick glance at Sun. He is in the middle of collecting forgotten drawings on the craft tables, thankfully unaware of your conversation.
“No,” you quickly say into the receiver. “He’s been pretty helpful, actually.”
There’s a choking sound on the other side.
”Ma’am? You okay?”
”Y-yes. Can I take that to mean that you’ll be staying on?”
”’Course.”
A sigh of relief made the receiver crackle. “Thank you. Goodness, your father was right; you are a miracle worker.”
”H-huh?!” Your face flushes. “Whatever that man says is a lie-“
Melinda laughs. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just teasing. Anyways, you’ve already left the building, right?”
”Oh, no, I’m still in the daycare.”
For some reason, your innocent admission makes your supervisor gasp. ”Why? Your shift ended an hour ago!”
The urgency in her voice takes you by surprise. “Whoa. Sorry, am I not allowed to?”
“No, just… Be sure to leave before 10pm, understand me? BEFORE. 10. The earlier, the better. That’s when Moon starts patrolling.”
Perhaps her voice being so curt is so jarring to you, that you don’t even ask about Moon. “Uh, sure. I hear you.”
”You be sure to do that. Good night.”
The call hangs up abruptly. You frown down at the watch. What’s that all about?
You steal another glance at Sun. To your pleasant surprise, the floor is already cleared of all toys, and the foam blocks and plastic balls are returned to their rightful places. The perks of having long legs. “Oh wow, that’s impressive.” Sun approaches you with swift steps. “Hey Sun, my supervisor mentioned something about Moon? That’s your partner, right?”
”Let’s take a look at your arms!” Sun says, too loudly and too brightly, as he rips off the towels. Your forearms are still splotchy red, but the swelling seems to have reduced a bit. “Good, good, that looks much better already! Make sure to put ice packs on that when you go home! Come on, now let’s get those legs-a-moving!”
You stand little chance when he grabs your upper arm and pulls you towards the door. “W-wait, my bag!”
The animatronic halts long enough to snatch your backpack off the ground and shove it into your chest. You barely managed to grab onto it.
”Off you go, Friend!” Sun says, practically shoving you out of the door. You nearly faceplant into the ground. “Goodnight!”
”Now hold on-“
The doors slam shut in your face.
You throw your hands up in defeat. “Alright then. And here I thought we had a thing going on.”
Your supervisor’s instructions still ring loud and clear in your mind. You should really get going soon, but at the same time, you don’t want to leave the place without saying something to Sun…
Your hands twitch. You get an idea.
Standing by the window, you rap your knuckles hard enough to make them sting, until Sun finally turns around with annoyance on his face. Your hands fly furiously, making gestures that you hope the animatronic can understand.
See you tomorrow.
You turn and hurried away to the lobby entrance before you could see Sun’s reaction. A fierce blush has taken hold of your face, burning up to the tip of your ears. It was an impulsive decision; one that you’re starting to regret now. ‘Stupid, stupid! What if he doesn’t know sign language? What if I spelt the wrong words?? f*ck, I probably did.’
You groan, squeezing your backpack to release some of the agony… then pause when crinkling paper reaches your ears. “Huh?”
Unzipping your bag, you pull out the Moon notebook you’d stashed away earlier. “sh*t, I forgot about this,” you murmur to yourself, staring at the art of Moon grinning up at you. “Melinda sounded pretty weird about you. But your brother isn’t really that bad all things considering, so you can’t be much different, right?”
It doesn’t answer you.
Well, you might not be able to get any answers about Moon tonight, but you have another use for this notebook later…
Later that night, after the coldest shower known to mankind, you buckle down to jot every tip and trick Sun had taught you into the Moon notebook.
