Synthesia (FNaF Michael Afton x Female Reader)

eight

A/N: Hey, it's been a while. How are all of you?

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Chapter 8: Unanswered

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You

I stared at the white ceiling of the bedroom. The bed was comfy, but I don't feel like sleeping yet after what happened back in my house.

It's also because I'm not sleeping in my own bedroom, but another person's, and he's a guy. I'm laying down on Mike's bed.

Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not sleeping with him!

He said he's just gonna sleep on the couch. It must be uncomfortable, but he insisted. I am not used to him being a gentleman.

His bed smells good, and it's not what I expected. He didn't seem to be the organized type, but it turned out that he was more organized than me. When I took a peek at his fridge earlier, the takeouts are stacked up perfectly. The bottles were lined up on fridge's door.

The only thing is that he's not eating healthy foods. Does he not have time to go to the grocery and buy ingredients? Or can he not cook?

Maybe it's the former. He said that he was looking for something- no, someone. Maybe he's busy on that.

<~~~~

"My brother was probably one of them," Mike said.

The thermo pot beeped, so he went to open the cups and start pouring boiling water on them.

My mind processed that sentence just like a video buffering because of the slow internet. The rumors about the murders, which I know that aren't just rumors. I have always known that.

But it's such a coincidence that Mike's brother met the same fate. But he said 'probably'. Is he not sure about it?

"Let's eat first, shall we?" Mike smiled, as if what he just said doesn't mean anything serious.

I first ignored the questions running through my head and followed him to a small circular table and sat down on one of the chairs.

He grabbed two bowls and two pairs of utensils and neatly put them on the table. I looked at him in confusion.

"Why do we need bowls?" I asked him. He opened one of the containers and transferred the contents to his bowl. It was ramen.

"You can't expect me to put soup on a plate," he said and slurped on his food. My eye twitched at his response.

"What I mean is, it's already on a container..."

"I don't like eating hot food in plastic containers."

"Weird," I thought to myself. I turned my attention to my food. I opened it and hesitantly pour the ramen on the porcelain bowl. I took a sip. It tastes delicious.

"So, what happened to your brother?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"He went missing 10 years ago."