living in shadows.

—send TRICKED for a scene from my muse's past in which they misled, tricked, or lied to someone

There's a kid crying in the corner. He's sat down on the floor, a few feet off from the entrance to the bathrooms. His knees are pulled up to his chest, and his balled fists are trying to wipe away his tears. He's got a striped shirt and shorts on. He almost looks like Evan.

Mike carefully approaches him. "Hey," he says, "are you alright?"

The kid sniffles, looking up at him. "Mmh– no," he says. "I– I got hurt." He moves to show Mike the injury– a scrape on his elbow.

"Ooh," Mike says sympathetically. "That's tough." When the kid says nothing, he continues, "My name is Michael. But you can call me Mike, okay? What's your name?"

The boy sniffs again, and it seems he's finally starting to calm down. "I'm... I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers," he says.

"I'm not a stranger," Mike says. "I'm just a kid, too." He sits down next to the boy. Mike is older than him by a couple years, but he's still only twelve. It's not like he could do much to hurt him, even if he wanted to.

The kid watches him sit, and seems to contemplate it. "...My name's Chris," he says finally.

"Chris," Mike repeats. "Now we're friends. And, now I can help you."

"How're you gonna help me if– if you're a kid, too?"

"Well..." Mike leans in a bit, lowering his voice. "Would you believe me if I said my dad owns this place?"

Chris looks at Mike, eyes still wet. "No," he says.

"Well, he does," Mike says. "And he's... there, see?" He points at his father, walking past the stage. "Hi, Dad!" He calls.

His father notices them, and waves briefly, before continuing toward a door marked 'employees only.' "He must be going to wake up Springbonnie," Mike says.

Chris says nothing, watching the man disappear behind the door. Mike watches this too, knowing what's coming. He must choose his next words very carefully.

"When Springbonnie comes out, you can talk to him and tell him you need help," Mike tells him. "He can get you a bandage for your arm. And... Well, don't tell anyone this next part."

He's got his full attention, now. Mike looks at the boy, watching him expectantly for his next words. Mike isn't sure what his father does with the kids he takes to the back room. All he knows is that he's never seen one come back out. Whatever role he plays in this scheme, he knows it's not a good one. He knows nothing good is going to happen to Chris if he gets anywhere near his father. But if Mike doesn't do this, he's sure to get the belt when they're back home– at best.

"...He likes to pick a kid once a day to go backstage with him," Mike says. "If you're lucky, he'll choose you. And then you'll get to meet Freddy and everyone else personally." He does his best to make it sound enticing– he's done this a few times now.

"Really?" Chris says.

Mike nods. "What do I get out of lying to you?"

"Wow," Chris whispers excitedly. Then, louder, "There he is!" The boy stands up, watching Springbonnie come out from backstage. Children swarm the rabbit, all vying for attention from him.

"Are you coming?" Chris asks Mike.

"Nah," Mike says, "you go on without me. I know him personally."

Chris runs off to meet the mascot, and quickly blends into the crowd of children. Mike watches from his spot on the floor. Eventually, the children collectively get bored and disperse– save for one boy, holding Springbonnie's hand. The rabbit leads him through a door marked 'employees only.'

—send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not

"Is that yours?" Jeremy asks, pointing at a guitar Mike's left in the corner.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Mike says, propping himself up on an elbow briefly to see it. They're in bed together, Mike halfway through a bowl. Jeremy's not as familiar with the drug, but didn't decline trying it out himself. They've been like this for a while now, letting the time slip away from them, talking about everything and nothing all at once together.

"I didn't know you knew you– knew how to..." Jeremy trails off. It's a bit of a repetitive sentence, and Mike's well aware of Jeremy's struggle with words. His head's probably all foggy too at this point, so he doesn't blame him for slightly giving up.

"I mean, barely," Mike says. "I know some stuff." He stands from the bed and picks it up. It's a glossy black electric guitar, with silver frets that stand out against the dark fingerboard.

"I wasn't really allowed to be loud at home," he tells Jeremy. "Didn't stop me from putting my music on as loud as I could whenever my dad wasn't home." He chuckles, looking down at the guitar. "I always wanted to learn, and be in a band like the ones I listened to. Soon as I moved out, I got this. Never got that good at it, though."

"I'm sure you're good," Jeremy says. He pats the space on the bed next to him. "Play something."

Mike isn't sure anything he plays will be any good, but he's definitely going to try. He plugs the guitar into its amp and drags both closer to the bed, sitting next to Jeremy. "Any requests?"

Jeremy ponders the question, longer than anyone else might, but Mike is used to this now, too. He knows all Jeremy really needs is a little patience– ever since his "accident," he's never quite been as quick on the draw as he used to be. Not that Mike knew him before it, but... Because of that, he still feels a bit like an asshole for thinking Jeremy was weird when they'd first met. Who cares if he talks slow, or takes extra time to process stuff? When he does get around to speaking, it's always insightful. He knows how not to waste words, much better than Mike does, at least.

"...What's that one song," Jeremy says finally. "The, ah... the one by AC/DC."

Mike scoffs. "Thunderstruck?"

"Yeah."

"I c–" He's about to protest that it's too difficult, but realizes if he pulls this off, he would look so fucking cool in front of him. "Okay. Watch this."

Mike starts to play the song, those famous arpeggios, and he honestly starts better than he expected to. Maybe it's just muscle memory, he figures. No matter if he's rusty, as long as he doesn't think about it too hard he'll– aw fuck he's thought about it too hard and now he messed up.

Jeremy laughs. Another quirk of his– he never quite figured out how to emote right again after his injury. Most of the time, his face looks somewhere between bored and sleepy, but Mike has come to learn the subtle things Jeremy does to express his emotions in other ways. When he laughs, it's the easiest. It's the only time Mike sees the corners of his mouth curl up, even if just slightly. A happiness so strong it moves even Jeremy's face... and it's caused by Mike. What a thought.

"Listen, man, I'm high," Mike excuses, feeling his face flush a little. "Totally not my fault."

"Play something else," Jeremy suggests.

"Yeah, watch," Mike says, and starts playing a different riff. "Heartbreaker. Led Zeppelin."

"Play the solo," Jeremy says.

"No," Mike responds plainly. They both know well enough how difficult that solo is.

Jeremy laughs again, and Mike can't hide his stupid smile this time. Jeremy's happiness, all because of him– his stupid shitty guitar playing? Maybe his mere presence is enough to make Jeremy happy. Jeremy's presence is enough for Mike, he knows.

Moments like this make Mike question why he's so hesitant to just... kiss the guy already. Call him his. But the idea of making whatever it is they have any more real than this... he doesn't know why, but it scares him. He just isn't ready.

—send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with

//JOKES ON YOU I was already writing a fic where mike meets his dad again after like 35 years as springtrap for the first time and this fits the prompt . i was motivated to finish it by this ask tho so thanks lol