Chapter Text
Jeremiah needs to become a worse person.
If he was a worse person, he wouldn't have accepted Mike's begging for him to work at this Fazbear Frights place.
If he was a worse person, he would have decked Michael Afton the first time he saw they were working together.
If he was a worse person, he wouldn't be stuck in a closet with his hand over said man's mouth as his shambling corpse robot of a dad stalked outside.
And if he was a worse person, he would have stopped feeling bad for him as soon as he understood just how much of a dangerous prick he was.
Jeremiah, unfortunately, is not a worse person.
And he becomes even more cognizant of that fact as the squirming man he's trying to keep quiet bites his hand.
Pulling away with a hiss, he has to practically fling his other hand over Michael's mouth as the other man once again attempts to call out to his father.
"Jesus Christ man, what part of stay quiet doesn't click in your head." Jeremiah whisper-shouts. He isn't sure just how thick the closet walls are, and he isn't keen to find out.
Michael attempts an answer, the key word being attempt, as Jeremiah's tight grip leaves whatever hate-soaked words of fury he has to say as nothing more than angry mutters and spluttering. Not too dissimilar to a yapping chihuahua.
Ever since learning the rotted animatronic wandering the attraction's halls was actually his dad, Michael has stopped at nothing to try communicate with him. Jeremiah wants to be angry with him. He wants to be pissed off at him. He deserves to be. Michael had endangered both of their lives for hours at this stage, the remnants of William Afton showing nothing but contempt and feral bloodlust towards the two men. But once you get to hour three of watching a man beg for his father, or whatever is left, to notice him, it gets a bit too sad to stay in that rage.
Jeremiah can however, stay annoyed.
With every furious struggle from Michael, Jeremiah swears he can feel the closet growing tighter and tighter, and the option of just throwing him out there to reap what he's sown grows more and more appealing. But the worst part of all of this is that he's actually grown to somewhat like the guy.
He's off-putting, smiles a bit too wide, like its a behaviour he had to learn in the mirror. He has the exact same crazy eyes as his sister and is far too proud of his family's serial killer tendencies.
But there's something in Michael Afton, once you pull him away from the Afton affected parts of him, that Jeremiah really does like.
Once they'd gotten used to eachothers' presence, Michael would start to show him the mechanics of whatever scrap animatronic parts the attraction had lying around. Something about, 'if you're gonna stick around, you might as well know what you're guarding'.
They weren't friends, Jeremiah wouldn't consider 'sometimes bearable to be around' as friend material, and he isn't too sure Michael knows what a friend is. But they were friendly.
Jeremiah had never been much an engineer, but Michael's enthusiasm in something other than his father was refreshing, and he ended up actually looking forward to when Michael would wheel his chair over to the scrap box in the office.
He might not know much about the Afton family, but he can connect a few dots, infer things. Like, that having a serial killer for a dad fucks you up. In those moments of just the two of them, sat in that eerie green office as Michael showed him how the metal pieces of Foxy's arm connected, while he messed with the bobble heads, he could imagine they were just two coworkers surviving the boredom of the nightshift. That the guy sat across from him didn't kill a few people, that he didn't want to be just like his child murderer of a father, that he was as well adjusted as any other person in their 20s.
But then he feels an elbow to his stomach, and he's reminded that the man he's dreaming of doesn't exist, at least not now.
Yet, the feelings remain.
So he grits his teeth, pushes down his fear and frustration, and hopes he's not imagining Michael's struggling growing weaker.
Jeremiah needs to become a worse person.