#jerephone

Summary: The more I analyze him, the more I realize that behind that cheery facade is a terribly depressed, self-hating man. (Jeremy's thoughts after the Bite of 87.)

…

As I lie in my hospital bed, I gaze up at the ceiling, transfixed by the shapes in the ceiling. It is quiet.

Then, someone walks over.

"J-Jeremy…?"

His voice is weak, and my heart feels a tinge of pity for him.

"Excuse me, but who are you exactly?"

"I-it's me… Remember? I c-called you every night at Freddy's…"

I nod, recalling the voice. It sounded less static-y in real life. Yet full of that nerdy adorableness nonetheless.

"Ah yes. The Phone Guy."

He gripped my hand tight, as though he'd been worried about me. Why would he be worried about me? I barely remembered my last shift, and looking at the clock I realized my next one was about to start.

"Uh, dude? I think I should be getting back to-"

If there was a word for how quickly he cut me off with just stutters and word fragments, I'd use it. He seemed to be trying to tell me some horrible news but was unable to speak it. I put a hand over his hand, wanting to reassure him.

"Come on, dude. I'm the one who should be worrying. You're the one who always smiles and tells people things'll be alright." I gave a playful smirk, hoping we were close enough now for him to get the irony.

"Jeremy, I…"

He cut himself off again, his eyes glazed over with worry and guilt. What would he feel guilty about?

A hair strand was bothering my forehead, so I moved my hand to brush it away. Then I felt it. The long scar that had to be stitched up.

"Oh." I said. Not entirely sure what else to say, I stared back at him.

He squeezed my hand.

"I-I'm sorry, Jeremy! I was scared, and they were threatening my livelihood. T-they said i-if I talked, I'd be b-blacklisted from ever working again!"

"Dude…" I offered him a hug. And the Most Affectionate Man at Freddy's hugged me, but it felt so unlike him. So hollow. "You don't deserve that. You did nothing wrong…"

Shaking his head, he mumbled under his breath.

"Y-you don't k-know me, Jeremy. I'm a company spokesman… W-we're paid to lie…"

I pulled him back from me and made him look me in the eyes.

"Tell me what happened, Phone Guy. I need to know."

He nodded.

And he told me about what had happened that night. How the company wanted me to work a double shift in the morning, and the weird requirements they had for me. Wanting me to wear my uniform and stand close to the animatronics. Back then I hadn't questioned it, but if I'd been able to focus on the call more I might have noticed that something was off. During a previous night, Phone Guy had told me to stay away from the animatronics. So why would he contradict himself now?

"T-they handed me a slip of paper. I-I read off what they wanted you to do… Uh, yeah."

"Mm. I remember now. And that fox thing chomped down on me!" I laughed, despite it all. "Yeah, but it was kinda my bad too… I should have noticed your cry for help. You even told me that you'd be taking the night shift after me. Duh!"

He looked away, trying to smile a little for my benefit.

I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, dude. Don't do this… The animatronics are- You know what they're like."

For the first time, I notice how defeated he looks, all pretense gone.

"Please. Don't do it, man." I keep going, hoping I can convince him. There must be a way. "If you go back there, they'll kill you!! Come on…"

He nodded.

"I know."

I squeezed his shoulder, and he instinctively turtled with the tiniest smile on his face.

"Aw. See, it's okay… I forgive you." I released my hand from his shoulder, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "You-you don't have to do this."

He relaxed and looked at me for a moment. Almost like he was pondering something. I wished I could read his mind.

"Jeremy…?" He said at last. I nodded. "…I'm glad you're alright." He looked at the clock. "Ah. I-I have to be going soon."

"Good luck."

As I watched him leave, I felt an immeasurable sorrow. Like I hadn't done enough. What could I have done? Talking to him kindly was the only thing I felt could have worked.

He wasn't really going to take the nightshift, was he? I got up, ready to talk some sense into him.

I bumped into a nurse, who ushered me back into my room. My stitches still needed more time to heal.

"Please," I begged. "Let me talk to that man!"

"Sorry sir, visiting hours are over." She brought me back to my room.

"C-can you at least tell me his name? He was my coworker, for crying out loud."

She led me over to the guest book so we could see who signed in to see Jeremy Fitzgerald. But when we looked, the name had been blacked out. Try as we might, it was impossible to tell what had once been written there.