Introduction
The room was dark and they could clearly smell blood but still they didn’t move. It hurt to move. Every bone in their body was screaming at them to just stay here on the floor and let themself bleed out. Just lying there, curled in on themself and pretending that what had just happened hadn’t, in fact, just happened sounded good. Just letting themself bleed out onto their bedroom floor… that sounded just as good.
An image flashed through their mind, though. A blue rabbit, face twisted in horror and grief with dark mascara-stained tears trailing down his cheeks. A golden rabbit, head ducked and tugging on his ears, blocking his face from view. A yellow chicken, crumpled on the floor and sobbing, her feathery hands over her face. A brown bear, his normally neutral expression morphed into a look of grief, tears barely being held back as he stared straight ahead, eyes wide.
They had seen those expressions before- not aimed at them, never at them- and had even worn a similar one on a November night, almost a year ago now. It hurt, thinking about being the one to put those expressions there instead, to be the one who cut their friends so deeply and utterly and never having a chance to fix it. Their stomach twisted and their head throbbed and their heart beat much too fast. They knew they couldn’t let themself die. Their friends needed them.
With that, they uncurled themself and pushed themself up off of the floor, groaning and looking up towards their window. It was pitch black outside the window, not even the moonlight penetrating the thick canopy above their house. Slowly dragging themself to their feet, the white fox limped over to the bedroom door and carefully opened it, peeking outside.
The hallway, just as dark as their room, was empty. They quietly made their way down the hall, keeping to the wall for both support and to avoid the squeaky centers. From down the stairs they could hear their parents talking, but they ignored it in favour of carefully slipping into the bathroom, not wanting to know how much money they had made off of their child's agony. Clicking the lock into place, they switched the light on and looked in the mirror.
They were a mess. Their fur, normally so neat and meticulous, stuck up in every way possible and the sweat had locked it into place, making it look stiff and grimy. Their eyes were red from crying and there was a forming bruise at the base of their throat, just above the ripped collar of their shirt. They didn’t look down at themself, though; they already knew they were bleeding. Tonight hadn’t been easy for them.
Carefully stripping the shirt away, every movement sending pain coursing through them, they stepped into the shower and turned the taps on, letting the freezing liquid wash over them and slowly turn scalding hot. It felt good on their body- it meant they could still feel, they were still alive. It washed away the sweat, the grime, the blood, and with it they forced away the feeling of disgust, imagining it flowing down the drain. They had done this a million times before, they only had to survive for so much longer.
Their eyes slowly slid over to the razor they kept in the bathroom. Being a fox, they didn’t actually need a razor- furry creatures don’t shave, after all- but the old, dulled blade wasn’t meant for shaving. It had been there for four years, sitting oh so innocently on the shower’s shelf, unneeded and unused for at least two. They wondered if it would bring the same comfort it once had, but that image of their friends flashed through their mind again and they knew they couldn’t, so they looked away from it, bowing their head under the shower’s spray.
It was ten minutes before they moved, grabbing the soap and scrubbing it into their fur. The aches were fading already. They would be back, oh the fox knew that all too well, but they’d survive.
“Just gotta soldier through, Mangle old pal,” they whispered to themself, their soft voice drowned out by the sound of rushing water. After rinsing off, they climbed out of the shower and padded back to their room, leaving their ruined shirt on the tiled floor. Slipping in, the white and pink fox turned the lock and went to their closet to pull out baggy sweats and a loose tank top to sleep in. A glance at the clock showed that it was nearly one in the morning; none of their friends would be awake, but they should leave a message for them to find in the morning so they knew the fox was alright.
So Mangle grabbed their phone as they climbed onto their bed, settling down on the uncomfortable, old mattress and pulled up their Whatsapp. A few taps on the phone and the message was sent. With a deep sigh, they dropped the phone onto the bed next to them and stared out into the darkness of their room. It still smelt of blood, sweat and fear. It still smelt of old betrayal and new hatred. It still smelt of guilt and disgust and pain and resignation. It smelt of acceptance.
I want to be anywhere else right now, Mangle thought to themself. They didn’t close their eyes, though; still they stared up at the ceiling, sleep far from their minds. They imagined, though, that their friends were there. No- that they were somewhere else, somewhere better, together.
Mangle found themself in a music-art studio. On one half was a little stage where two guitars rested on stands and a drumset waited to be played with a keyboard right across the stage from it. Five microphones were on stage as well. Sitting on that stage was a brown bear, violin in hand. He looked up at Mangle and gave them a small smile and a nod in greeting.
Mangle smiled back and waved before turning towards the easel facing the stage. A golden rabbit stood by it, sticks of chalk in his hands and a big blue spot on his cheek. A blue rabbit stood next to him, holding the matching blue stick. They were laughing together and looked to Mangle, their large, carefree smiles making the fox feel warm inside. They hadn't seen those smiles in over a year.
A chicken came into the room, a large vanilla cake in hand. All of them let out a cheer, dropping what was in their hands- the bear setting his down carefully, of course- and hurrying over to enjoy the cake. Mangle found themself following, laughing as they realized they had a camera around their neck and in their hands, snapping a picture of the moment.
“It looks great, Chii!” the friends all chorused, the echoing quality of the voices not fazing the fox, and the chicken blushed, pleased by the compliment.
“Thanks, guys!” she laughed, setting the cake down on a table and cutting it into perfect slices for each of them, handing them out around the table with simple, white plastic forks.
They all settled down together, digging into the delicious treat, and Mangle laughed and smiled with them, their pain and grief and fear forgotten for now. They focused on their friends, their carefree smiling faces, their delighted laughs, their jokes and the way their eyes lit up the room around them. The way everything was alright.
In the real world, the white fox smiled and finally closed their eyes.
The red fox tossed the ball in the air a few more times, frowning in thought. He had just gotten off of the phone with one of his best friends and their conversation hadn’t been… well, it wasn’t sad but it definitely didn’t make him happy.
Tomorrow was the start of the end of their childhood. Technically, he supposed, it ended when they entered their teens. More responsibilities. Now, though, now they were actually turning into adults.
Seniors, he thought in silent amazement, catching the ball one last time with a frown. “Seniors,” he repeated aloud. A spark of excitement lit up in his chest, but was he really happy about that? The last year we’ll be together. But we’ll be back for holidays and weekends and summers… we’ll always be friends. So why am I so nervous?
With a sigh, the fox fell backwards on his bed, staring up at his night-sky themed ceiling. The stars, which were glow-in-the-dark of course, stared back at him. Something was eating at him and he wasn’t sure what it was.
I should call Bonnie and Freddy and Goldie, he told himself, lifting his phone up again. He brought his contacts up and hit the first one of his friends that came up; Bonnie. He took a moment to laugh at the picture of the purple rabbit blocking his face out with a certain rude gesture; he never did like having cameras shoved in his face.
It took only a moment for the rabbit to answer. “Dammit, Foxy, I’m in the middle of that essay,” Bonnie told him, a frown in his voice. Foxy couldn’t help but laugh; leave it to Bonnie to wait until the last minute to write a summer essay.
“Sorry, Bonnie-lad!” he apologized, though he wasn’t really sorry. “But Freddy ‘nd I did tell ya to do it earlier this summer.”
“How was I supposed to know it’d take me three weeks to read that stupid book?” Bonnie complained with a sigh. “Besides, Goldie still hasn’t started his and it’s almost eleven.”
“Little late, mate, he did his two weeks ago,” Foxy informed the rabbit, snickering and sitting up in bed. “He read the book in two days flat- even with us distractin’ him.”
“Wait- Goldie’s already done it?” Bonnie asked, sounding confused, and Foxy burst out laughing. Foxy heard the sound of Bonnie’s face meeting his desk. “And lemme guess- Chica did hers when you and Freddy did yours.”
“Yep,” Foxy confirmed. “We invited you and Goldie, ya know, but y’all two decided a jam session sounded better,” he added, chuckling.
“Fuck you,” was the rabbit’s simple response.
Foxy cackled and said, “Sorry, lad, you’re like a brother to me.”
“Jerk,” the rabbit snorted. “So, Foxy, how’s your mom and mama?”
“They’re fine,” Foxy answered, tossing his ball in the air again. “Mama’s in England right now for a shoot but she called today. Kind’a amazin’, ya know, since it was like midnight there when she did. Mom’s put in for vacation for Christmas already. They said you guys can come with us, by the way- we’re goin’ to New York to watch the ball drop.”
“Sounds fun,” Bonnie chuckled. “I’ll ask ma about it, no promises.”
That reminded Foxy of something, and his eyes trailed to the calendar by his bedroom door. August seventh. It’s been two months now. Wow, time flies. “How’d the lass doin’?” he asked, frowning. “I know things have been tough for her since Jimmy passed.”
Bonnie was silent for a second or two before answering, “She’s doing well enough. She’s back to work now that everything’s settled with the will and family and all, but she’s pretty lonely now. Dad told me he thinks she should start dating again, but I don’t think she’s ready.”
“Two months ain’t enough time,” Foxy agreed with a sharp frown. How could Bonnie’s father expect the lady to move on two months after her husband’s death? He may have moved on a week after the divorce but not everyone could let go that easily. Foxy knew he himself would probably never get over someone he loved as deeply as Bonnie’s mother loved his step-father. “But it’s good she’s back to work, surprised they let her stay out this long.”
“Well when you’re one of the higher-ups you get away with a lot of stuff,” Bonnie pointed out with a small laugh, though it didn’t sound as happy as Foxy was sure he meant it to. “She- oh, wait, hold up, getting another call.”
“‘Kay,” Foxy voiced, waiting as Bonnie switched to the other call. He hummed to himself, hitting the ball against the wall and catching it as it bounced back. He repeated this a few times, knowing there was no one home to disturb as his mom was currently at work. Even if it was eleven o’clock.
After a few minutes, Bonnie’s voice returned, laughing. “What was it?” Foxy asked curiously, wondering what was making the rabbit laugh.
“Freddy was just askin’ if I knew where Goldie was and told me to give you his love,” Bonnie informed him, his voice sickeningly sweet.
“Aww, how sweet,” Foxy drawled with a small grin. “I always knew that bear liked me best!”
“Oh no, I’m still his favourite,” Bonnie declared mock-haughtily. “Always have been, always will be.”
Despite the rabbit not being there to see him, Foxy drew his brows together, put his free hand under his chin, and stared up at the ceiling as though in thought. “Hmmm, naahhhh,” he finally decided.
“So Freddy says he’ll ask his parents about Christmas, but really, they probably won’t mind,” Bonnie informed him, changing the subject. Foxy guessed he didn’t need to call the Fazbear brothers now. “I mean we went to France last year, New York is a hop, skip, and a jump away.”
Foxy laughed and said, “True! But ya know how parents can be.” He stretched a bit and let out a silent yawn, pulling the phone away from his ear so the rabbit didn’t catch it. Damn, I’m really tired. Best to end thiscall. “I’ll let ya get back to your essay now. Good luck!”
“Thanks, Foxy,” Bonnie laughed before hanging up. Foxy exited out of the call and dropped his phone on the pillow next to him and settled back down, closing his eyes. It was peaceful and quiet in his room and the only light came from the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.
As he drifted off to sleep, it was peaceful and quiet and and he was content. Unknown to him, in a house in the woods outside of the city, another fox was going through hell and dreaming of being anywhere else.