Just Like Me, Foxy
It had bothered him all night Monday and all day Tuesday, and it had followed him into Tuesday night as well.
Bonnie’s words. Freddy’s words. Chica’s words.
People don’t stay in dangerous situations- not like that, he told himself again as he stared through the darkness towards his ceiling. It was a little past midnight and he couldn’t sleep. Anyone would get themselves out of there by this point.
Wouldn’t they?
He had been watching them. The entire group, that is- he was never close enough to simply watch Blanc. It was either all or none... but he did notice oddities specific to Blanc; how natural it seemed for the fox to zone out, how their friends seemed to compensate for them when they did, how the white and pink fox always stood at the very right of the group, how any one of the other four would sometimes reach out and tug on the fox’s shoulder as if pulling them out of the way...
And that hand. It kept echoing in his mind; he had almost forgotten about it... that strange sound it had made as it landed on the desk...
Then there was the way they dressed. Who wears a turtleneck in summer?
That fox is such a fucking weirdo.
With a growl, Foxy turned over and pulled his blanket up over his head. Stop thinking about it! They’re a bunch’a weirdoes, that does not mean they’re all bein’ abused or somethin’ like that. Bonnie’s just gettin’ to you.
However, he couldn’t shake that feeling of dread in his stomach. Because... What if Bonnie’s right?
What if Bonnie’s right and no one does anything?
He stared at the place his hand would have been had he been taken away sooner. The wrist that just cut off, leaving no indication that he had ever had a hand in the first place. The only evidence of his past.
What if there are people out there who don’t know there’s another choice? Who choose to stay despite the pain? What if those freaks really are in trouble?
No, he instantly denied, growling to himself. There’s another explanation, of course. Roughhousin’, wrong place wrong time, trippin’ and fallin’-
They all sounded like excuses even in his own mind, and it only made the feeling worse.
He thought about how the small group acted; always together, always looking around before they dropped into whispers, always staying so... separate from everyone. They were so... isolated without being... stand-offish... always disinterested, disengaged and unaware of everyone but each other, yet at the same time aware of everything. They seemed just fine with each other, but they seemed to keep a fair distance between themselves and everyone else- almost as if they shied away from an unfamiliar touch. It was... odd. It was...
It was suspicious.
Foxy had never really noticed it before, and now that he thought about it... he couldn’t dismiss it. What had simply been oddities to dislike them for were suddenly reasons to feel suspicious, paranoid... afraid.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to get involved... but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because they had been this way for years.
Finally, he groaned and sat up, staring miserably across his bedroom. Several seconds of silence passed before he reached out to his bedside table and grabbed his hand. I can’t believe I’m doin’ this.
Securing the hand into place, he flexed its fingers to test and nodded in satisfaction. Then he climbed out of bed and crossed over to his desk beneath the window overlooking the garden. Kneeling down, he tugged open his bookbag and frowned into the mess of papers already gathering, and then he reached inside and began rooting through the pages. It took him about half a minute before he located the desired sheet, but when he did he tugged it out and walked back to his bed, dropping down on it and frowning at what he held in his hand.
It was the questionnaire.
I can’t believe I’m doin’ this. What the hell am I s’posed to say if they even answer? It’s past midnight, they’re probably asleep! And what? Do I demand to know what’s goin’ on? Ha, Foxy, that’s a good one- like they’d ever tell ya! Blanc is one of Springtrap’s group- they don’t like ya. At all.
This is so stupid.
Still, he found himself picking his phone up. He found himself unlocking his phone and typing in that number, glancing down at it on the page as he did so- 346-9882. He found himself lifting the phone to his ear, mostly hoping that the other fox wouldn’t answer.
It rang once... twice... three times.. it kept ringing, and then it was picked up by voicemail. He was about to hang up before he paused, deciding to listen to what the fox’s message was. Maybe he could get some sort of insight from it.
“Hey!” Blanc’s voice called out, much more animated than they had been with Foxy. Actually, it was a lot more animated than Foxy had ever heard even in passing- a lot brighter, cheerier even. They sounded actually... happy. There were voices in the background but Foxy couldn’t pick up on the words, so he focused on Blanc’s voice. “Sorry, can’t come to the phone right now, but if it’s important I’ll ring ya later.”
“Mangle?” another voice cut in, close enough to understand. “What’re you doing?”
“Springy! You’re messin’ up my voicemail message!”
“Oh, that’s what you’re doing?” the voice- Salvage, he realized- laughed, his voice taking on a teasing tone that Foxy had never heard before. He struggled to connect it to the rabbit. “No wonder your-”
Whatever Salvage had been about to say next was cut off by a beep. Foxy hung up then; he had nothing to say, after all.
With a sigh, he dropped his phone back on his bedside table. Stupid Foxy, of course they won’t answer at half past midnight. Thank god. Make up your mind, Foxy, involved or uninvolved...
Setting the page next to his phone, he fell back on his bed and frowned up at the ceiling.
It’s still none of my business. Fuck’s sake... I need some sleep.
Foxy was proud to say that he had managed to completely shove the issue to the far side of his mind during gym the next day. Even as he felt himself crash down to the ground, his head colliding painfully with one of the football athletes, the fox hadn’t crossed his mind even once. As he complained to his friends later, laughing with them and making jokes about it, he had not a single thought about it.
That came to a screeching halt the moment he stepped into third period to find all five absent students sitting there in silence; Rodriguez leaned on his hand, Salvage laid his head on his desk, Fischbach just stared blankly ahead, Kain gazed at her desk, and Blanc just looking out the window, their leg bouncing up and down under the desk. They were dead silent, a heavy, bleak air about them which seemed to affect even the bubbly human girls across the room.
Finding himself completely unable to continue speaking, Foxy just silently went to his desk, watching the white and pink fox as he approached. He could only catch a glimpse of their distant expression and glazed eyes before he had to slide into his seat, sharing a look with his friends.
Blanc fidgeted and shifted in their seat, but their gaze stayed firmly on the window. Their right hand simply laid, unmoving, on the desk. It seemed almost... heavy as it just laid there.
Foxy jumped slightly as the bell rang and he turned his gaze back to the front, where Dr. Schmidt stood and looked around with a smile.
The fuck? Foxy blinked, completely shocked. How the hell are you smilin’ when it feels like someone died in here?!
“Alright, class! Homework!” Dr. Schmidt called, clapping his hands. Beside him Blanc winced, but obediently they turned to their bookbag. Foxy did the same, rifling through the mess of papers he had noticed last night until he yanked the packet out. He scowled slightly, barely registering the “pass it up and I’ll collect it at the front” as he looked up to meet Chica’s gaze. Wordlessly, he handed the packet over to her and leaned back, turning to look away from her.
His gaze landed on Goldie and Freddy, who were at that moment staring at each other, wide-eyed. It looked almost as if they’d seen a ghost or something. Goldie quickly turned around and Foxy watched, frowning, as he handed off his and his brother’s packets to Bonnie.
Dr. Schmidt collected the packets quickly, pausing only at Rodriguez to give him a strange look, but then he had moved on without asking questions. Once the papers were collected, he turned to his students.
“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way,” the instructor started, looking around at all of his disinterested students, “let’s talk about your first lab. You won’t be working on it until Friday, as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the steel wool reacts to the fire.”
Foxy had to physically bite his tongue to hold back an incredulous laugh. The steel wool? We did that in, like, freshman or sophomore year. Everyone knows how it works! The hell, doc? Then again, it is the first lab of the year... must be wantin’ to start us on somethin’ easy.
He glanced over towards Blanc, frowning. Dr. Schmidt was explaining the lab, but Blanc looked like they were paying zero attention; their eyes seemed to be glued to the window. Why the instructor didn’t say anything, Foxy had no idea, but he wasn’t about to bring it up.
Frustratedly, Foxy opened his notebook and began writing down the human’s words. He didn’t really hear the man, but he heard enough to write down the words. I can look at them later.
The lecture continued undisturbed for all of three minutes before the instructor’s words cut off and Dr. Schmidt asked, “Yes, Mr. Salvage?”
Looking up, Foxy turned his attention to the rabbit. “May I step out for a moment?” the rabbit asked politely, his voice small and wavering and completely unlike anything Foxy had ever heard.
His grip on his pencil tightened.
“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt allowed, and Salvage was practically out the door before Foxy could blink, answering the phone in his hand just moments before the door was shut.
Quickly, Foxy turned back, glancing to his left to see Blanc staring intently at the door, then turning to look at the chicken in front of them, who had turned around in her seat. The two seemed to share a silent conversation with one another, one that Foxy was completely unable to understand.
“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” Dr. Schmidt commanded, and Kain turned to face forward again, as if wanting to remain unnoticed by the doctor. Blanc’s eyes dropped to the desk, a frustrated scowl crossing their face as their hand tightened into a fist.
They fidgeted and shifted, moving so that their left leg was tucked underneath them- but then they grimaced, as if in pain, and quickly dropped their leg back to the floor, leaning forward as if seeking some form of relief.
The fox seemed completely oblivious to Foxy’s gaze.
Deciding that he needed a distraction, Foxy flipped to a new page and scrawled down, Why did Freddy & Goldie look so freaked out? He scanned over the short note, silently scolding himself for thinking Chica might have the answer, but still he tore the page out- quietly, of course- and folded it, and then he poked the eraser of his pencil against his female friend’s back.
He watched as Chica slipped her hand behind her, and he quickly slid the folded paper into her hand.
Chica quickly and quietly unfolded the note, reading over it. It felt a little ridiculous- seventeen-going-on-eighteen and still passing notes in class?- but he needed something to distract himself with. It was a few moments later that the door opened again and Dr. Schmidt’s attention was diverted to the rabbit, who went to the instructor to have a whispered conversation with him.
Foxy raised a brow. He wasn’t able to hear the conversation, but Blanc shifted next to him and he could hear a low hum from the fox- they sound worried- which told him that Blanc knew exactly what was going on. In fact, glancing around he found all four of Salvage’s friends wore similar, tight expressions, their eyes on the golden rabbit.
All of them know what’s happening here, he realized, ear twitching as the note landed on his desk. Turning his attention away from the maybe-not-so-odd-after-all students, he picked the paper up and unfolded it, frowning at the predicted response.
Idk I guess something happened. We’ll ask later.
Sorry, lass, but I think there’s somethin' else I’d rather know, he thought, sliding the paper in the back of his notebook and looking up to find Salvage slipping out the door again, bookbag on. Oh, he’s leavin'.
A glance back towards Blanc showed that the moment the door had closed, the fox had turned back to the window. Their ears were down and their hand just sat there while their tail twitched back and forth, their legs bounced up and down- Kain’s doing it too, he noted- and their left hand rubbed absently at their thigh.
Something about that hand... It was so obvious, he realized, dropping his gaze to the hand sitting on the desk. His eyes scanned over that hand, noting the way the fingers curled- a little off, a little stiff- and how, just barely, he could make out a line...
His own hand ached, and quickly he turned away, his heart beating too fast as his own left hand clamped over his right wrist, just barely able to feel the difference between his fur and the faux fur.
It’s a prosthetic.
It was as simple as that. Blanc’s right hand didn’t seem right because they don’t have a right hand, either.
For fuck’s sake, how long has that been a thing? He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in agitation- not with anyone else but with himself. I should have realized immediately, right off the bat. For fuck’s sake, I’m an idiot.
No, he immediately countered, forcing himself to relax. No, you were just never payin’ attention. And don’t get so worked up- most people who lose their hands lose them in extremely different circumstances.
Maybe it was an accident. Them missin’ a hand don’t mean anything.
Opening his eyes, Foxy let his eyes trail over to the clock on the other side of the room. As he did so, a quick scan of the room revealed... no one was paying attention.
Not even Freddy, and that was downright shocking.
Dr. Schmidt’s voice had lost its luster, now better reflecting the heavy tone hanging over his students. If Foxy hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought someone just died.
Maybe someone might as well have, he thought dully, letting his head fall down onto his desk. This will take forever...
Forever it did take- at least in Foxy’s mind. As class crawled by, he counted every single fidget the fox next to him made, every little detail to the way they moved and every strange little humming sound they made.
The bell ringing felt like a blessing, and he quickly slid his notebook into his bag before standing up. Chica and Bonnie headed out the door as Blanc and Kain swept past Foxy, making their way over to their friends. Foxy shared a frown with Goldie before following Chica and Bonnie out of the door, pretending not to notice the way Blanc and their friends watched them oh so suspiciously, gathered by Fischbach's desk. In Salvage's absence, it appeared that the bear became the leader.
“Weird,” he heard Chica mumbling as he and the Fazbear brothers caught up to them, walking in the direction of the cafeteria. “What-”
“Not here,” Bonnie interrupted their friend. Foxy frowned, but as he heard giggles and raucous laughter he understood. Anyone can overhear us.
They couldn’t say a word about what just happened or anything they noticed... not without the entire school finding out about it.
Foxy scowled, tapping his wood-and-metal hand against his leg. Fucking hell. He didn’t complain, though, instead taking his seat next to Chica at their table, ignoring the athletes sitting with them.
The silence that fell around them was awkward and heavy. Desperate to find something to break it with, Foxy started, “So... that movie marathon this weekend...”
“I dunno,” Goldie mumbled, gaining Foxy’s attention. “I don’t think I’m feeling up to a marathon anymore.”
“Same,” Freddy sighed in agreement, and Foxy hated to admit that he agreed too. His heart just wasn’t in it anymore. “Why don’t we save the marathon for a different weekend?”
That sounds good. A different weekend- a better weekend...
“I think,” Bonnie started as they all took the offered food from Chica, each giving her a nod of thanks, “that we should... I dunno... go to the park?”
It sounded like a suggestion, but to Foxy it was more like a request. Foxy frowned and shrugged, looking away. He knew exactly why Bonnie wanted to go to the park.
War by the water.
“Which park?” Goldie asked, curious. Of course he didn’t know- at the time that particular conversation happened, Goldie couldn’t have known.
“The one with the lake,” Bonnie replied. “Not pond, but the actual lake.”
“You mean Lakeview Park?” Chica questioned, and Foxy frowned as a thought suddenly hit him.
Wait, why in the world would those five be at Lakeview Park? It’s not the only park with water, they could easily have their “war” anywhere else...
“Why would we go all the way out there? It’s a little far from our houses,” the chicken continued at Bonnie’s apparent confirmation. He glanced up to find Bonnie’s gaze firmly attached to the ceiling, not meeting any of their eyes.
“Yeah but we’re planning on going to New York and that is way far from our houses,” Bonnie countered, not looking down. He doesn’t want to tell them... “Besides, it’s a good park.”
“Aye,” Foxy mumbled, averting his gaze to the rest of the cafeteria. Across the way he could see what remained of Salvage’s little group, sitting together and whispering quietly amongst themselves, leaning in close together. None of them seemed to be eating a thing. “That it is...”
“Right,” Chica agreed, her tone suspicious. However, before she could even begin questioning Bonnie, a new voice reached them.
“Yeah, I saw him in the office,” a cheerleader- or is she a softball player? Can’t be bothered to care- at their table was saying, laughing with her friends. “Guess he didn’t do his homework or something, must’ve gotten in trouble.”
And that, Foxy realized miserably, is why we can’t talk about this.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” the boy across from the cheerleader-or-maybe-softball-player laughed. “Springtrap was never that good a student.”
Foxy glanced at his friends, noticing the look the twins shared and the way Bonnie was scowling, his eyes glaring up towards the ceiling. Chancing a look at Chica, he noticed she was tense. He shifted uncomfortably and bit his tongue; there was nothing they could say, after all.
Irony’s a bitch. We started this, but we can’t end it...
Not for the first time, Foxy felt himself fidgeting and simply bursting as they walked through the crowded parking lot. They were walking slowly, being easily passed by faster, more eager students, never having a moment to themselves.
I can’t wait, he thought, fidgeting with his hand and glancing towards Bonnie. I gotta know. Why, why is this botherin’ me so much?
The moment no one was within earshot, he as casually as possible asked, “So, Bonnie... Mind telling us what that was about?”
It occurred to him as the rabbit looked at him, brow furrowed, that maybe he wasn’t exactly clear enough. “What?” the rabbit questioned, confirming Foxy’s suspicion.
“During science,” he explained, turning to look at his friend with a raised brow.
“Oh,” was Bonnie’s oh so brilliant answer. Foxy observed his friend’s expression turned thoughtful, a small frown tugging at his lips. “He apparently had a family emergency and had to go pick someone up,” he explained with a shrug before adding, “Apparently it was an hour away, so there was no way he would make it back to school for the rest of classes.”
Foxy frowned and looked ahead again. He could see Goldie’s van from there.
"It sounded like he already had an arrangement with the school,” Bonnie continued unexpectedly, prompting Foxy to glance back at him. “Dr. Schmidt looked and sounded like he already knew what was going on the moment he saw Salvage’s hand.”
He’s right, Foxy realized, letting his gaze fall to the ground as he thought about it. Dr. Schmidt didn’t ask any questions at all.
“He was holding his phone,” Goldie needlessly informed them, and Foxy had to bite his tongue so the yeah, we know didn’t slip out. “I heard it vibrate but he had it out of sight before I could actually see it.”
Sly rabbit.
“So,” Chica sighed, stopping by the driver’s-side rear door of Goldie’s van, “Salvage had to leave for a family emergency. That makes sense.” Foxy, standing next to her, noticed her gaze fall on Freddy over the roof of the van. “But what was up with y’all at the very start? Freddy, ya looked like someone just keeled over and died right in front of ya.”
“Might as well have,” both brothers snorted humourlessly as Goldie unlocked the van. Then Freddy glanced around, and Foxy was struck by how... familiar that sight was. The bear leaned forward a bit, his voice dropping into a whisper as he told them, “There was a bloodstain on Fischbach’s homework. Tried to excuse it as ketchup.”
Foxy’s amber eyes caught Chica’s and they shared a frown. However, none of them could say more as a junior varsity group passed by, giggling and laughing about... who knows what. Foxy found himself looking past Chica, watching them pass with his teeth pressed against his tongue.
Then Goldie cleared his throat, startling Foxy into looking at him. When all of them were looking at the golden bear, he glanced inside his open door. “I don’t think a parking lot is the best place for this conversation,” he stated matter-of-factly, and Foxy knew he was right.
Quickly, Foxy climbed in, dropping onto the bench-seat in the back. He sat center, so that he could see all of his friends, and quickly snapped the belt into place. Once Goldie’s door closed, the bear added, “Anyone could hear us out there, ya know.”
“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed as he settled down in the seat behind Freddy. The rabbit buckled his own seatbelt and pulled the door shut. However, it was only as the van roared to life that he continued speaking. “So Salvage had to run out in the middle of class, Fischbach’s homework was bloodstained, and Rodriguez had a big ugly bruise on his face.” Really? Geez, even being snoopy and suspicious I still miss shit. “Anything up with Kain and Blanc today?”
What can I say? he wondered, sitting back in his seat. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell them what he had realized- not yet, anyway. He didn’t want to tell them that Blanc was just like him. Absently, he rubbed his right wrist as he said, “Blanc wouldn’t sit still. They were really out of it, too.” Not that that was new; it seemed to be a thing with the fox. “Only tuned in long enough to watch Salvage leave and went right back to starin’ out the window.”
Kain didn’t do much,” Chica told them simply, though her tone was somewhat off- thoughtful, maybe. “Kinda just sat there, starin’ at her desk. Seemed tense but nothin’ really off, per se.”
Foxy didn’t agree, remembering the way the chicken had looked back at Blanc. Maybe the lass missed that.
“Still think we’re misunderstandin’ the situation?” Freddy asked after several moments, and Foxy’s grip on his wrist tightened.
Somethin’s goin’ on but that doesn’t mean it’s... it’s...
Blanc is just like me- no they’re not, they’re different. Very different. Yet...
“There’s always a chance,” Goldie suddenly answered, though his voice was somewhat flat and disbelieving. Foxy closed his eyes. “But I don’t think we are... not anymore, anyway...”
“I don’t think we know exactly what’s going on,” Chica added with a sigh, clearly unsure about anything anymore- because now not even Foxy was denying that something was going on. “I honestly don’t think there’s one flat answer to this, guys. Somethin’s goin’ on but I just don’t think we have the full story.”
That’s true.
“It’s only the third day of school,” Bonnie pointed out, and Foxy frowned because that’s not true. “The third day we’re actually paying any attention, anyway.” Better.
“We’re bound to notice something if there’s anything else,” Chica concluded, and Foxy nodded absently in agreement as he stared at his hand.
We’re bound to notice somethin’... like fake hands and bloody bandages and suspicious bruises- fuck, Foxy, stop it, you sound like Bonnie now.
“Maybe we should talk to them about it?” Freddy suddenly spoke up. Sitting upright, Foxy’s gaze snapped to the front. Immediately his attempted phonecall came to mind- and how well would that have gone over if they had answered?!
“Talk to them?! Are you crazy, Fazbear?!” he demanded hotly, his amber eyes on the younger twin. “It’s one thing watchin’ ‘em from a distance but actually gettin’ involved- at that point we might as well just call the cops!”
But weren’t you tryin’ just last night? Hypocrite.
“We can’t,” Goldie stated flatly, almost surprising Foxy. He had hardly even realized Goldie was still paying attention. “We’re in unfamiliar ground, Foxy. Besides, I don’t think you call up the cops to say “I think one of my classmates is gettin’ knocked around” or somethin’.”
I wasn’t sayin’ actually call them!
“The CPS,” Chica suggested dully, and Foxy clenched his fist.
The CPS did fuck-all for me, what makes you think they could help here? Besides, who the hell said the parents have anything to do with this?!
“They usually give prior warning,” Bonnie informed them, easily dismissing the thought. “They’re not good at hidin’ it but I get the feelin’ they’re damn good at hidin’ the tracks."
It took Foxy a moment to realize he was talking about Blanc and company, not the CPS. A little warning next time?
“Then what can we do?” Foxy asked. Well, nothing you idiot, don’t get involved! “We can’t talk to them." He lifted his left hand, counting off on his fingers. "One, we don’t like them. Two, they don’t like us. Three, we still don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on.”
“It wouldn’t kill us to be more friendly towards them,” Freddy started, his tone suddenly taking on warning. Foxy flinched, unsure of just why. “Besides, I don’t dislike them,” the bear continued. “I’ve always been neutral on this subject. The only reason they don’t like us is because you lot all started actin’ aggressive towards them. I clearly remember them bein’ neutral about us until they finally noticed.”
It was true, and it made Foxy kind of... angry. I know we can’t take it back but what the hell, Freddy? You never gave ‘em a chance either, don’t act innocent in this! Just because ya didn't actively try and mess with 'em doesn't make you any more innocent than us-!
“Arguin’ won’t do us any good,” Chica interrupted, clearly agitated with them. “How about this, let’s compromise.”
The first time she had suggested a compromise, it had been easily accepted. This time, however...
“Compromise?” Bonnie repeated incredulously, his tone turning harsh. “What’s there to compromise about? Someone’s gettin’ hurt, when someone’s hurt you fucking help them, whether you like them or not!”
Foxy felt like that was a jab at him. He scowled, but he didn’t get a chance to respond as Chica said, “Has it occurred to you that the best way to help may be to not get involved?” That... didn’t quite make sense to Foxy, but he didn’t want to get involved no way so he felt inclined to agree. Hypocrite. “They’re always together, clearly they’re just as close as us five are. They don’t need us when they have each other.”
It was sensible, at least Foxy thought so. Bonnie, on the other hand, seemed to strongly disagree.
“Oh yeah,” the rabbit snorted, clearly unimpressed. When he spoke again, his voice was full of forced, fake joy, and it highly annoyed Foxy. “Yeah, let Rodriguez rely on Fischbach, both of whom have bled in the last three days. Or better yet, let them rely on Blanc- the kid who barely pays any attention to where they’re going. Or Salvage, who’s apparently having family problems and is having to play the role of parent already.”
Play the role of parent...
He didn’t get a chance to ask as Chica’s warning was cut off, Bonnie continuing with, “Their foundation is unstable, Chica. Face it. What happens to houses built on unstable foundations? They collapse.”
Oh great, metaphors, he mentally groaned, narrowing his eyes at Bonnie. What are you gettin' at...
“These are people, Bonnie, not houses,” Chica started, but she couldn’t continue as Bonnie, once again, rudely cut her off.
“What happens if Rodriguez gets killed, Chica?” Foxy clenched his fists. Stop it, Bonnie. Just stop it! “Or Fischbach- or any of them? What then? If it takes all five of them to be an unstable foundation, what happens when one of them falls?” The rabbit didn’t even give any of them a chance to respond. “They all fall, that’s what!”
The implication was cold and blunt, and it sent a chill down Foxy’s spine- and not a good chill, either.
Blanc is just like me.
“You don’t know that,” he automatically responded, his voice no more than a mumble. He fidgeted. Are they really? “You’re suggestin’ things again, Bonnie. Things that might not be true at all.”
“They’re troubled,” Goldie spoke up quietly as he pulled into the driveway, “but they’re not... that troubled, are they?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Freddy answered his brother, his voice soft again. “The simple fact of the matter is we don’t know. And that’s a problem.”
For a moment it looked like Freddy was about to open his door, but then he paused and turned in his seat, looking around at all of them. The intensity in those blue eyes froze Foxy to his spot, his heart beating painfully hard- because he knew exactly what the bear was about to say.
Just like me...
“I don’t know about you,” the bear started, his eyes scanning over all of them still, “but I don’t want to keep being one more crack in their foundation. If their foundation, as Bonnie is suggesting, is unstable and breaking...” he paused and Foxy mentally begged him not to say the words that he knew were coming- the words that would change their “deal” into something else. Something much more personal.
“I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.”
With that, Freddy opened his door and slid out, heading towards the house. It left the four of them in silence, Foxy’s stomach twisting in guilt and horror.
I’m such a fuckin’ hypocrite.
“I don’t either,” Bonnie muttered before yanking his door open and jumping out, not even glancing back as he made his way after Freddy. Foxy’s ears flattened- that wasn’t surprising, of course, but it made him squirm uncomfortably to know that...
For the first time in a long time, something had come between him and his friends.
He barely registered Goldie getting out. The golden bear didn’t say a word, but Foxy didn’t need to hear his decision; the silence said it well enough.
Leaning over, Foxy rubbed his forehead. “I’m such a fuckin’ hypocrite,” he finally grumbled aloud, voicing his guilt for the first time.
Why is this happening?
“Why d’ya say that?” Chica asked, her voice oddly gentle. He could hear the click of her belt and the door opening slowly.
“Because I’ve already tried to talk to Blanc,” he confessed, not daring to look up at his friend.
“What?” She was surprised and confused- and maybe even a little betrayed, though Foxy couldn’t be sure. He closed his eyes, thinking about how he had just stared at his phone, debating with himself- get involved, don’t get involved- and how his resolve had slipped for just a minute... long enough to find himself dialing that number.
I guess in the end my mind was already made up, huh?
“I tried callin’ ‘em last night,” he told Chica, sighing as he dropped his hand into his lap and glanced up at her. He hit his seatbelt’s release as he did so. “They didn’t pick up, but still I already tried what the others’re suggestin’, and now I’m over here gettin’ mad about ‘em wantin’ to do what I already tried.”
She didn’t respond, so he dropped his gaze again. “It’s just been botherin’ me,” he said, picking his bag up just to have something to do with his hands. “Somethin’ isn’t right with that fox, and I can’t help but think it’s a lot more than them bein’... imaginative, or whatever.”
“So...” Chica started, her voice laced with confusion, “you actually agree with them, despite havin’ been arguin’ against them.”
Looking up, Foxy shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to get involved,” he clarified. “Somethin’ isn’t right and I do think those...” He paused- calling them weirdoes didn’t feel right, not anymore. Not when that entire time it was all just a silent cry for help- one that went completely ignored by everyone. “Er, Salvage and his friends need help, but I don’t think we have a right to even think about trying to be that help.”
In that moment he said it, he realized it was true; that was exactly how he felt. They didn’t have a right to try and approach their classmates- because hadn’t they been the ones who took from them their chances of anyone noticing?
Then again, even without our interference they’d be distant...
Chica ran a hand through her feathers, clearly considering his words. Foxy felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach; she looked conflicted. “If not us, then who?”
No one, he realized immediately, ears flattening. No one has that right. But they need someone.
“I don’t know,” he answered miserably, meeting her magenta eyes. He could practically see the thoughts going through her mind.
The others are gonna try anyways... and if we don’t, we might ruin their chances at succeeding.
Oh god...
Chica grabbed her bag, giving him one last meaningful glance, and he could see the resolve in her eyes.
He felt sick.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to do,” she declared, and then she was out of the van and gone.
Foxy’s gaze fell to his right hand. Several seconds of silence passed as he turned it over, frowning to himself.
Just like me.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, clenching the prosthetic into a fist. “I guess we will.”
With that, he moved towards the door Bonnie had left open and slid out, gently closing the door behind him. He glanced at the overcast sky.
It was fitting.