Mary.
----------------------------------------
Sparky’s Diner wasn’t exactly a five-star restaurant, but it was quickly their spot.
Mary tapped her fingers against her half-empty milkshake glass, watching as Michael stirred his coffee like he was trying to divine the future from it.
She raised an eyebrow. “You planning to drink that, or just hypnotize yourself?”
Michael didn’t look up. “I thought getting rid of Foxy would make things easier.”
Mary sighed. There it was.
“Let me guess,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “The others are just working overtime to make up for it?”
Michael finally glanced up, his deadpan expression somehow both exhausted and sarcastic at the same time. “Oh, absolutely. It’s like they saw Foxy leave and collectively went, ‘Well, guess we gotta step it up.’”
Mary snorted. “That’s some real go-getter work ethic. Maybe they deserve a raise.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell management,” Michael muttered.
Mary leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms. “At least your number of animatronics is decreasing.”
Michael huffed, unimpressed. “Yeah, and I’m sure more will magically show up when you go back to work.”
Her smile faltered just a little.
She hadn’t been back yet.
But she would be soon.
Michael took a sip of his coffee—and immediately regretted it, judging by the way he grimaced.
Mary smirked. “Too hot?”
“No, just awful,” he muttered, setting it down like it personally offended him.
She snorted, shaking her head. “Then why the hell did you order it?”
Michael shrugged. “Felt like the right thing to do.”
For a second, it was quiet. The diner was never completely silent—the distant hum of the jukebox, the clatter of dishes, the low murmur of other conversations—but in that moment, it felt different.
Michael looked up, his gaze more serious than it had been all day.
“You gonna be alright?”
Mary froze.
It wasn’t the question itself. It was the way he said it. Casual, but not really.
Like he wanted it to sound offhanded, but he actually cared about the answer.
Her heartbeat picked up. She ignored it.
“Please,” she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve been fine. I’ll be fine.”
Michael didn’t look convinced.
She forced a smirk. “Why, you worried about me?”
Michael’s eyelid twitched. “No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Michael dragged a hand down his face. “Christ, Mary.”
She grinned, but inside, she was panicking.
Because the truth was—she wasn’t sure if she was fine.
She exhaled, stretching her arms over her head. “Anyway, apparently, I’m getting a coworker.”
Michael blinked. “Wait, what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, apparently, they don’t trust me alone anymore after that little panic attack situation. So now, I get to train some idiot on how to not die.”
Michael frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything right away.
Mary tapped her fingers against the table. “Not gonna lie, I’m not thrilled about playing babysitter. What if they’re a dumbass?”
Michael leaned back. “Then it’s just like dealing with me.”
Mary grinned. “Fair point.”
Michael pretended to be offended, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly like he was holding back a laugh.
The jukebox crackled to life, struggling through a half-static version of “Livin’ on a Prayer.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Of course. What would Sparky’s be without a Bon Jovi song?”
Michael smirked. “You’re just mad you like it.”
“Pfft.” She took a sip of her milkshake. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”
Michael chuckled, shaking his head.
The lights flickered slightly. Probably a wiring issue.
Mary ignored it.
She was having a good time, and she was going to milk that for as long as possible before reality inevitably came crashing back in.
Michael stretched, glancing at the clock. “We should probably get going soon.”
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Mary sighed dramatically. “Ugh, fine. But only because if we stay any longer, I might end up actually liking Bon Jovi.”
Michael smirked. “Wouldn’t want that.”
They slid out of the booth, grabbing their jackets.
Michael held the door open for her.
She didn’t comment on it.
But her stomach flipped just a little.
She ignored that, too.
They stepped outside, the chilly night air biting against their skin, the neon sign of Sparky’s buzzing behind them.
Mary pulled her jacket tighter around her. “Well, at least we know one thing for sure.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
She grinned, teasing. “Our lives are never going to get easier.”
Michael groaned. “Yeah.”
Mary laughed.
----------------------------------------
The autumn air had a bite to it, crisp but not unbearable. The kind of weather that made you want to wear a jacket but also regret it halfway through the day.
Mary kicked a stray rock along the sidewalk as she walked next to Michael, who looked as done with life as always.
“So, remind me again,” she said, smirking. “Why are we aimlessly walking around town like two idiots with no sense of direction?”
Michael sighed dramatically. “Because somebody didn’t want to didn't want to hang out at her house.”
Mary shrugged. “My place is great, but I need variety in my life, Mike.”
“Right, because walking in circles is so much better.”
She elbowed him lightly. “It builds character.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Sure. And when exactly did you become the expert on character-building?”
Mary grinned. “The moment I met you, obviously.”
Michael let out a short, amused breath, shaking his head. That almost smile of his was rare, but it was there if you knew when to look for it.
And Mary did.
They wandered aimlessly, stopping in stores just to waste time.
First Mary made Michael try on a ridiculous leather jacket, claiming it was his brand now.
Michael, in revenge, forced her to look at the most absurd leg warmers he could find.
They then debated whether cassette tapes were better than vinyls. Mary of course won that debate no matter what Mike said.
It was normal.
The kind of day that felt light and stupid and easy, like the world wasn’t falling apart around them at night.
She almost forgot about the shitty night shifts, the sabotaged animatronics, and the paranoia creeping into her bones.
Almost.
They were walking past an old gas station when Mary felt it.
That prickling feeling on the back of her neck.
Like someone was watching her.
She glanced at the street, eyes skimming over the traffic.
Then she saw it.
A purple car, sleek but old-fashioned, its headlights dull under the cloudy sky.
It was moving slowly. Not stopping. Not speeding. Just hovering in the periphery of her vision.
It passed them—but not before she noticed the way the driver’s silhouette seemed to linger.
And then, just as easily, it disappeared into the flow of traffic.
Mary’s fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab Michael’s arm.
Because maybe she was just being paranoid.
Maybe she’d been working too many late shifts even with her impromptu vacation, maybe her brain was just wired for fear now.
“You good?” Michael asked, glancing at her.
Mary blinked. “Huh?”
“You spaced out for a second.”
Shit.
She forced a grin, nudging his arm. “What, I can’t take a dramatic pause for effect?”
Michael gave her a look.
She ignored it.
“Come on,” she said, starting to walk again. “Let’s see if we can find a store that sells those weird sunglasses that cops wear in movies.”
Michael sighed. “Mary, we are not—”
“Too late, I already made it a goal.”
Michael groaned. “This is why I don’t let you make decisions.”
She laughed. But that prickling feeling never quite left.
And as much as she tried to shake it off, a thought lodged itself in the back of her mind.
That car had been following them.
She was sure of that.
----------------------------------------
Michael.
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Michael did not sign up for this.
One second, they were walking through town like normal people, and the next?
The sky decided to open up and ruin everything.
"Shit—run!" Mary grabbed his wrist, practically dragging him toward the nearest awning.
They ducked under the overhang of some closed record store, shaking off the first wave of cold rain.
Michael shoved his wet bangs out of his eyes, glancing up at the dark, churning clouds.
"Should pass soon," he muttered.
An hour later, it got worse.
Mary turned slowly, staring at him like he had personally offended her with his optimism.
"Oh yeah," she deadpanned, gesturing at the miniature river forming in the street. "Really looks like it’s passing, Mike."
Michael crossed his arms. “It’s not that bad.”
Mary’s voice shot up. “MIKE, THERE’S WATER POURING DOWN THE STREET!”
Michael glanced at the rapidly rising water level, then at Mary’s unimpressed expression.
“…Could be worse.”
Mary groaned, shoving his shoulder. “This is why I can’t have nice things.”
For a while, they just sat on the curb, watching the storm turn the town into a disaster zone.
Mary hugged her knees, shivering slightly, and Michael—noticing but not sure what to do about it—just quietly scooted closer like a socially awkward penguin.
A distant thunderclap rattled the air, and Mary jumped slightly.
Michael smirked. "You scared?"
Mary shot him a look. "Of you? No. Of the sky throwing temper tantrums? A little."
Another flash of lightning lit up the street, followed by a crack of thunder that made Mary press her forehead against her knees.
Michael, purely on instinct, nudged her with his elbow. "Hey. You alright?"
She turned her head just enough to peek at him. "You gonna give me a piggyback ride to make me feel better?"
Michael snorted. "Yeah, sure. When hell freezes over."
A few minutes passed in relative peace, aside from the screaming wind and occasional car struggling through the flooded streets.
Then, out of nowhere—
CRACK.
A lightning bolt slammed into a tree across the street, setting it immediately on fire.
Michael stared at the flaming tree, then at Mary, then back at the flaming tree.
Mary, sitting stock-still, slowly turned to him.
“I change my mind,” she said flatly. “This is actually the worst.”
Michael exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Let’s get inside before the universe tries to kill us next.”
She didn’t argue.
Michael yanked off his soaking wet jacket, handing it to Mary.
She blinked at him. "What?"
"Put it on," he said, already crouching down with his back toward her.
“…What are you doing?”
He tilted his head back, giving her a look. “You wanted a piggyback ride, right?”
“Wait—you—"
Michael turned slightly. "Do you wanna stand in knee-deep floodwater, or do you wanna get inside?"
Mary hated that he made a good point.
She shoved his jacket on, hesitated for one more second, then awkwardly climbed onto his back.
Michael hooked his arms under her legs, braced himself—
And ran.
The nearest shelter was a small bar on the corner, warm light spilling through the windows.
Michael kicked the door open dramatically, stepping inside like he hadn’t just carried his friend through a goddamn storm.
The bartender, drying a glass behind the counter, raised an eyebrow.
“Rough date?”
Michael blinked.
Mary started coughing.
“No—” they both started at the same time, talking over each other.
The bartender smirked knowingly. “Right, right. You two okay?”
Michael set Mary down carefully, ignoring how she immediately turned away to hide her face.
“All good,” he said, shaking out his damp hair. “Just got caught in the weather.”
The bartender nodded before sliding a towel across the counter.
Mary snatched it instantly, still refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Michael, meanwhile, was very confused.
Because for some reason, Mary was bright red.
Michael slumped into a barstool, rubbing his temples.
Mary plopped down next to him, aggressively toweling off her hair.
Neither of them spoke for a minute.
Finally, Michael sighed. “Alright. What’s your deal?”
Mary stiffened slightly. "What deal?"
"You’re acting weird."
"I'm always weird."
"You’re weirder than usual."
Mary huffed, pulling his jacket tighter around herself. "Maybe I’m just cold."
Michael eyed her suspiciously.
Then, for some godforsaken reason, he remembered the bartender’s earlier comment.
"Rough date?"
Michael blinked, then scoffed. "Oh my god, are you embarrassed because that guy thought we were—"
“DON’T FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”
Michael grinned.
Mary glared daggers at him, face still unbelievably red.
Michael leaned back, smug. “Y’know, if you wanted me to carry you, you could’ve just nonsarcastically asked.”
Mary, without hesitation, threw the towel in his face.
Michael sighed. “Okay. I deserved that.”
Mary smirked, finally regaining her composure. “Damn right you did.”