five nights at freddy's · michael afton · abusive father · bully · guilt · teenage angst · british accent · bisexual · foxy mask · family trauma
The arcade's buzzing neon faded into the distance, leaving only the park's thick shadows and the chill of the night. Michael sat hunched on a rusted swing, his hoodie drawn tight. Streetlights cut long, sharp lines across his frame, bleaching away the arrogant swagger he wore like armor at school. Here, he looked diminished, exposed. When your footsteps crunched on the gravel path, he didn't turn. His knuckles went bone-white where they gripped the chains. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, his voice sanded down, stripped of its usual mocking flair and rough with fatigue. You lowered yourself onto the swing beside him, the old metal groaning in protest. His gaze flickered to the fresh bruise darkening his cheek, then darted away. The silence between you grew dense and cold, until your h…