(Little author's note but Monty's accent is written out here. It might be a bit jarring if you're unfamiliar with written accents like that. I used my own accent as inspiration (Ozarks, if anyone's curious), but I figured it was close enough to a more southern accent it'd be alright. Love y'all! <3)
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
A soft, familiar silence took over the Pizzaplex after closing. It was a very serene sort of time, the large mall without the bustling life of its guests took on an eerie silence filled only with the buzz of lights and the echoing footsteps of the occasional staff or attraction going to a different location.
However, from time to time, Monty found himself enjoying the tranquility of the gigantic rooms, barren of life. He craved these empty moments, left with nothing but his thoughts. He loved the kids, of course - it was his programming to do so - from time to time, though, all he needed was this silence: a mental recharge after a day of nothing but screaming, excited fans and the loud, blaring speakers during performances.
Tonight, he found himself wandering Rockstar Row, a hall that led from one side of the main stage to the other, connecting with he and his bandmates' rooms in between. The layout, from left to right, goes as such: Freddy Fazbear, Roxanne Wolf, himself - Montgomery Gator, and ending on Chica the Chicken. He always wondered why she featured no last name as they did, but she didn't mind, so neither did he.
The hallway had them placed deceivingly far from each other, the space left for lines for meet and greets taking up more space than he generally realizes, so the walk from one end to another is still a satisfying one - though he would like to go further, to the dismay of security, who always get frightened with his heavy footsteps.
The carpet dampens his steps as he passes Roxy's room, and he takes a short moment to listen to her, shredding away on her keytar. He rolls his eyes with a smile, how typical of her to practice, even if she doesn't need to.
He walks onward, paying no mind to the band leader's room.
God, how jealous he was of Freddy. He was so adored, so loved and idolized. Freddy was the brand's goody-two-shoes mascot, he always had such a bright feeling to him - it was aggravating. God, how Monty wanted to see him show any emotion besides his happy-go-lucky smile, or the optimistic smirk he had before a performance.
Monty's hatred did not deter him from enjoying his walk, however, until he noticed an odd sound..
..crying.
A sob, softened by something between him and the person, arose from behind him, dancing across his sensors as gently as they had emerged. He turned behind himself to find the culprit, but was only met with the silent hall he was familiar with.
He listened again, and found it to be emerging from none other than Freddy's room.
He peered inside, though feeling a bit uncomfortable with invading his (though only superficially) superior's room, his optics were met with the once towering bear now hugging his knees as he sat on the floor, a muffled sniffle just barely audible. He sat surrounded by plushies of himself varying in size and accuracy, causing the bear to blend into his background. His back faced the couch pressed onto the right wall.
Monty's eyes widen, in shock or horror he does not know - and his eyebrows furrow in worry.
The alligator slinks silently to the main door to the bear's room, giving a gentle knock before pressing the button to let himself in.
"Hey, Fred. Are you.. okay?"
The door slides into the wall, and he is met face-to-face with the bear.
Freddy's head had quickly shot up the moment the knock had occurred, making his face fully visible to the gator. Makeup streaked down his face in ugly waves, a mixture of his mascara, eyeliner, and facepaint all streamed down into Freddy's fur. It looks clumped up in some places and translucent in others: he had been crying for a while.
Freddy quickly met Monty's eyes as he quickly said in his chipper tune: "Ah! Montgomery, I'm.." he sniffs, "I'm.." and his eyes crease up, his eyebrows move down, and his bleary eyes get wet once more. The bear shoves his hands over his face and the whine he produced gradually became another sob as he bawled.
The gator said nothing, not as he approached, nor as he sat down on the floor next to Freddy.
They sat in silence, the room occasionally echoing with a soft noise from Freddy, though it was muffled by the bear's large, soft paws.
Monty didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to comfort him? He was programmed to deal with kids, sure, but Monty feared the bear wouldn't appreciate a hug and a lollipop as much as a four year old would. Although, then again..
Freddy sighed and let his arms fall. "Monty," Freddy hardly used the gator's nickname, "I am.. truly sorry you had to see that... you should go."
Monty shook his head softly. He laced his hand with Freddy's, and used his other to lower his glasses. "..no. Yer not just gonna cry like 'at 'n expect me to jus' leave." He says, his ruby optics meeting Freddy's baby blue ones.
Freddy looks away, but lets the hand stay gently holding his. "I.. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."
"Ya don't have 'ta keep apologizin'." Monty is quick to tell him, his accent apparent in his delicate tone. "It's okay ta' cry sometimes, Fred."
Freddy's eyes squeeze shut, and so too does his hand around Monty's. He is silent for a long while, and to Monty, it is suffocating.
Monty's thumb gives the paw in his hand a gentle rub as he looks around the room. It's so bright, and he can't help notice the theming.. or the lack thereof.
All the Glamrock's rooms feature decorations that match the owner. For Chica, imagery of hearts, pizza, and pink: a reflection of her love, both for others and for cooking (and the subsequent eating). For Roxanne, tires and wrenches line the walls, to show her love of racing. For Monty, plants along the walls and hanging from the ceiling: a callback to the marshes which alligators live in, as well as his beloved golf course.
Freddy's room, however, felt so.. bland and lifeless. All along his walls, nothing but photos of him, imagery of his signature lightning bolt.. and tons of plushies, all in his likeness. An impersonal, corporate room.
The more Monty thought, the worse he felt. He couldn't recall a moment that ever felt personal with their beloved band leader. Monty knew not Freddy's favorite color, nor his taste in music, or hell, what he did in his spare time. Did he have any hobbies? ..what were they? Monty wished he knew.
Freddy, after his long silence, leaned back onto the seat of the couch. He let out a shaky breath, and Monty looked at him.
"I did not intend to disrupt your walk. Normally I am much quieter, but.." he fell silent and closed his eyes.
".. 'Normally'?" Monty mumbles, then says to Freddy, "How long 'is been goin' on for?"
Freddy doesn't respond. He opens his eyes, then squeezes them shut again. Monty cleared his throat and took off his sunglasses.
"Freddy, I.." he stops and gently places the sunglasses over Freddy's eyes. "I should be the one apologizin'. I didn' know you were.."
Freddy leans forward again, looking at Monty with a now unreadable expression. He touches the glasses softly, then turns away again.
Monty continues after the silence, "I know what it's like.. ta' bottle up those emotions." He gives a little chuckle. "'m sure you've heard the results of that. Listen," he says, letting go of the bear's paw and instead wrapping his arm around the bear's large back, "I wanna know what's goin' on wit' ya. Lemme at least do that."
Freddy touches Monty's hand with his own, reaching across his chest and grazing Monty's knuckles. "I.." he starts, but falls flat. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I am fine during the day, but as soon as the doors close.."
"You.. break down?" Monty offers.
"Yes. Perhaps there is a glitch in my code."
Monty shakes his head, "There ain't a glitch. But there is somethin' wrong wit' ya." Monty rubs Freddy's shoulder. "Mind if I take a shot in the dark? I got a workin' theory."
Freddy shrugs.
Monty takes that as a yes. "I think ya might be lonely. Your whole life 'n personality is centered around those kids.." he says softly. "Have ya got any hobbies? Interests?"
Freddy brings his hands together and fiddles with his thumbs. "Yes.. I have many interests." He says, but his voice is light and unsure. "I like to read fan mail, and practice singing.." he offers, and Monty frowns.
Monty blinks at him, and his hand pets along Freddy's back, eventually placing itself on Freddy's mid-back. Monty is deep in thought for a moment, before he asked, "Freddy, what's yer favorite color?"
Freddy raised his eyebrow, but thought hard on the question. At last, he answered, "Red." Monty had guessed it was blue. The bear added afterwards, "Not the red they have on my walls, though. I like the color your hair and eyes are. Ruby. That's my favorite color."
Monty blushed a little, but it dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. Monty looked at Freddy, and said: "you can talk ta' me, y'know."
Freddy's lip curled like he was going to cry again, but instead he only responded: "I know. It's just.." Freddy looked away. "It's silly of me. I shouldn't be so upset."
Monty raised an eyebrow. "Hon, if it makes you upset, then it ain't silly."
Freddy gains a little smile, and he peers at the man next to him over the sunglasses. "Thank you, Montgomery. I appreciate that." The bear smiles for a moment, resting his weary eyes on the gator's, before his gaze falls back down to his hands again. He gently removes the sunglasses from his face, and inspects them. He exhales through his nose, and he sounds exhausted. "How do you do it, Monty?"
"Do what?"
"Day in and day out, I constantly have to put on this.. This mask, this front. It is so draining. I constantly fear that guests will think I don't like them. Which is incorrect! But.." Freddy gestures vaguely. "How do you do it?"
Monty processes for a moment, before responding. "I don' have ta'." is what he settles on, and he tilts his head away, shamefully. "I don' hold back. It's part 'a my.. character, I s'pose. I'm the, uh, yin ta' yer yang." He explains, though he doesn't want to. "The comp'ny's narrative they made for me, y'know, hatin' ya shows it too."
Freddy hums in response, then says, "I suppose so. For what it is worth.. I am glad it is just a fabricated story. You are a dear friend to me, Monty." The bear says, looking at Monty's face again.
Monty smiles, "I'm glad it is, too."