#sun fnaf

Horrified gasps and screams are muffled by the door. Lumin stands behind it, performing his pre-show ritual.

Despite performing this show twice a day, he still needs his little ritual.

He taps the tips of his three larger rays, right, left, top, left, right.

He takes a breath, or at least completes the motion of such. Before pressing the button that slides the door open, he bounds out with his usually excited act, only to be met with a scrambling crowd, all rushing desperately to the exits of the amphitheatre. Lumin holds his friendly smile, cracking a joke.

“Come on folks, if anyone should be scared, it should be me.”

He slowly begins to turn around, intending to finish the punchline and gesture to the massive carnivorous beasts in the enclosure with him.

“Afterall, I'm the one who-.”

Lumin stalls as he is met with an unfamiliar colour.

Red.

Its a Dark Red.

A Dark, Crimson Red.

It's blood.

Lumin drops to his knees in the ankle-deep water of the shallow pool.

A small shoe floats on the slowly rippling surface, red stains splotch the little green shoe. His vision starts to splotch as well, black slowly consumes the outer edges of his optics, slowly enclosing on his vision.

With trembling hands, Lumin picks up the shoe, examining it more closely. Before his vision fully shuts off, he knocks the bottom of the shoe, and colours of yellow, blue and green dance back and forth.

His vision finally gives and Lumin goes offline, other park staff rushing to remove his body from the crocodile enclosure.

They set him plugged into his charging station, letting his body restart on its own, as they quickly commence their evacuation procedures.

In his internal darkness, Lumin replays the events of the day.

- Coming online at the beginning of the day.

- Opening the gates and greeting the morning staff.

- Assisting to feed the animals which do not have feeding shows.

- Making his way to the lobby to meet a birthday group that had booked his park guide service.

It was a young boy's 8th Birthday, and he was so so happy to be celebrating it at the park, and have him be their tour guide.

Harper.

That was the boy's name.

His whole family was there, both his parents, his older sister, and a grandparent from either of his parents’ side. One grandmother, and one grandfather.

Lumin took them through every part of the park on the special tour bus, separate to the park train which ran on its own schedule. Harper insisted he sat in the passenger seat.

“I'm the big birthday boy!” The boy reasoned loudly. Giggling as he struggled to climb the step. Lumin checks with a glance to the boy's parents, they nod, and Lumin gently lifts the boy into the seat.

“Seatbelt.” Lumin reminds. Pointing at the sticker on the dashboard. It was a sticker version of one of his posters, the ones that hang at all the park train stops. Reminding passengers to buckle up.

The only time Lumin wasn't with the birthday group, was when he was scheduled to do his 1pm crocodile show, but they would be in the audience, and Lumin planned to have some banter with the little boy.

Just before he parted ways at the entrance to the amphitheatre. The boy tugged at his hand.

”Wait. Mister Lumin. I wanna show you something.” Lumin stops and give the boy his attention.

The little Harper beamed like the aussie sun. Then with a hefty effort, the boy jumped up, and when his feet met the ground again. The bottoms of his shoes danced with colours of yellow, blue, and green.

”They were my Birthday Gift!” Harper explained excitedly.

Lumin pet the little boy's head.

Suddenly his memories merge, the little Harper's bright smile flashed with the colour of red.

The strobing image of the blood stained shoe in his shaky hands, the crimson background of the blood filled water.

His smile.

Red. His smile.

Red. His smile.

Red. His smi-. Red.

Red. His s-. Red. Red.

Red. His-. Red.

Red. Red. Red.

Red. Red. Red.

Lumin lurched forward suddenly, ripping the charging wires from his head.

His optics come online and he sees his office, his charging station behind him.

He looks down slowly, the shoe still clutched in his grip. He reaches his free hand up to his faceplate, the ends of his smile still stretch to the sky. The back of his mind fizzles.

He should be feeling something.

Feeling something.

Something.

ANYTHING.

Anything at all. The boy was only 8 years old. He was their tour guide. He was the employee running that feeding show.

He claws at the edges of his smile, trying to rip the plating downwards, in the desperate, painful hope that he could express his despair, his guilt, his regrets. He can't frown, he can't cry, he can't even feel like his heart is aching, he doesn't have one.

Then he feels it. A fleeting crack in his chest.

Ripping his shirt open, his chassis is bleeding. Streaks of oil drip out from the gaps where his plating doesn't sit exactly flush. Peeling away the small layer of sealant, he lets more of it run down his torso.

He knows most people would be crying right now…

He wipes some of the oil off his chest, and smears the liquid down the sides of his face, imitating the tears he can't seem to shed.

Clutching the shoe to his chest, dropping his face down into his hand. Gripping the tiny peice of footwear against himself. Whispering to it, as if he could reach the ears of the young boy. As if begging for his forgiveness was still plausable.