Chapter Text
You hear laughter as you open your eyes. Everything felt…distant…But cozy. You glance around to see blue…skies around you? Yes. Blue skies, you can feel the sun shine down on you. You see the kids rush around you, playing in the playground. You can’t see their faces clearly, but you can feel the joy in the air. In the distance you see a circle of buildings surrounding the area, though they are a little less clearer in your vision.
Surrounded by joy and laughter, you felt like a ghost as you moved around. The children moved around you as you moved, parting like the Red Sea, never stopping the fun. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but there was a tugging sensation that seemed to guide you. Your feet were tickled by the faint sensation of the grass below you.
Everything felt…distant.
As if you were disconnected from your surroundings.
”What are you doing here, little one?” A voice calls out to you, and you feel great joy in hearing the voice. And yet, when you turn to face them-
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
You groan as you open your eyes, one hand already going to shut the damn alarm clock off. You hear a click, which tells you that your hand has found the mute button. You yawn as you bury yourself deeper into the covers for a moment, enjoying the warmth. The familiar scent of vanilla fills your nose as you hug your plush close.
The Dogday plush was one of your most precious possessions. The plush’s fur was soft and well worn, perfect for nuzzling into, the scent of vanilla still growing strong despite how old the toy was. The sun pendant was shiny with how often you fiddled with the gold pendant. It was the oldest of your toys, and one you held close to you. The fact it smelled like vanilla also helps too.
You groan as you get up, rubbing your eyes as your legs swing to the side of your bed. You glance around your dark room, slowly letting your mind wake up. You note your bed first, the cosy warmth still lingering and almost tempting you to go back to sleep. Next to your bed was your nightstand, where your alarm clock flashes the time in a small white light.
9:00 AM.
Right.
You turn the light on, your lamp lighting up in a warm blue colour. It was a fun lamp your Dad had gotten you when you were younger. You stand up, stretching as you do, feeling your pjs move with you. You wore an oversized black rock band shirt, the old thing that you often used as pjs often. The flannel pajama bottoms were something that your Dad did get you though. You rub your eyes as you look back to sort out the plushies on your bed.
Many would think it was silly for a 14 year old to be so attached to plushies of all things, but you couldn’t help it. When you first got adopted, you had many nightmares all so terrifying enough that not even your Dogday plush could help you sleep. So your Dad got you more toys to help you out throughout the years.
To add to your Dogday plush, you had a Catnap one. It was a rare plush, since the others got discontinued and recalled off the shelves. But your grandmother had managed to find the plush off a garage sale and got it for cheap. You smile as you place Catnap against Dogday, the two never separate for long. You remembered the old cartoon, and how the two are supposed to be best friends. You pet Catnap, the lovely scent of lavender mixing with the vanilla.
You had other stuff from Playtime, like Huggy Wuggy and Kissy Missy. They both had a spot on your bed. Yawning as you stand, you switch off the lamp heading to where the curtains were. You briefly hiss at the sun.
Doey’s colourful appearance greeted you, the play dough man greeting you in a waving pose. You pat the Doey on its head. As you let the light filter into the room, you spot some of the toys you don’t play with anymore. Your Bunzo Bunny and Mommy Long Legs were one of them.
You sigh, pushing back your wild hair from your face. " Right." You think, letting your feet feel the fluffy carpet beneath your feet, centering yourself. " Time for work."
You head out to the door, the hallway greeting you. The walls were full of pictures of you and your Dad, the memories a happy thing to look through. But you focus on getting to the kitchen and doing your job.
Soon the smell of eggs and bacon fills the house, waking your dad up. You can hear him move in his room upstairs, as you focus on not burning the damned eggs again. It was one time, but the smell still haunts you.
You hear his footsteps behind you. Thud, step, step, thud . It was an easy pattern to notice.
“Hey Dad.” You call out easily.
“Hey Kiddo.” The gruff morning voice greeted you, as he appeared in the hallway. He starts to make his way to the little side table, resting on a stool, putting his cane beside him. You turn to see stormy grey eyes greeting you. Your dad was a bit older than most other people’s dads. He had a full greyish white hair, his hair straight and only messy because of the bed head. It certainly gave mad scientist vibes. He had a clean shaven face, with a narrow nose and a pair of wire thin glasses. Currently he was wearing some flannel pajamas, like the old person he was.
You simply smile as you put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. You then frown as you note how something isn’t beside him. You glance at where it is, in a very pointed look. And your Dad, the prick he is, is very pointedly digging into the meal acting like he was an oblivious idiot. If there is one thing you knew about your Dad, it was that he wasn’t stupid. He was a literal Doctor! You had no clue why he was acting like such a baby about this.
You feel your eyebrow twitch as you place the medicine in front of him.
“Take it.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What if I don’t want to?” He playfully teases, chewing on his food.
“Take. Your. Medicine!” You stress out, sliding it over to him. He sighs but takes the bottle, taking out the needed pills.
“You worry too much for your age.” He notes, swallowing them, pulling a face as he drinks it down.
“And you don’t worry enough.” You snip back, taking a bite out of your food. “The doctors say you need to take it!”
“I’m a doctor too.” He adds, smirking a bit. “And I say I’m fine.”
“Bullshit!” You tore into your food, ignoring the chiding “Language” besides you knew it was just automatic for him. “Dad, you are sick.” You say, your dark eyes full of worry. “And…I know I’m being pushy about it I just-...”
You grip your fork tightly, looking down at your food.
“It was …scary…finding you on the floor.” You admit. You felt his hand rest on top of yours, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the back of your hand.
“I’m sorry.” He says, tilting his head slightly. “I know this has been a tough and scary time. But I have to admit this was probably a long time coming for me.” He shrugs, a sad smile on his face. “I’m old, and have made many mistakes. But my mistakes are my own. And I own them.”
He looks at you, as he says in a quiet tone. “I just don’t want you to worry about shouldering them. That’s not your job. I want you to be you. You deserve so much. And I know this is scary, that this scares you…But you are my brave little wolf, kiddo.”
You huff slightly, a shaky smile graces your lips at the old title. You have no idea when it started, but it was an old name that has stuck with you.
“Not so little anymore.” You say, squeezing his hand back. He chuckles. “I suppose not. But you always be little to me. And that’s ok. I’m not gonna stop being here for you anytime soon kiddo.”
Something in you uncurls at that. Relief you suppose. It had not been a secret that your dad had suffered with an unspoken pain. It had been made clear to you earlier in your life. But you never asked, and he was still there for you, and considering you had a hunch on why he was upset, you were just grateful for it.
The rest of breakfast passes by quickly, enjoying the company of one another.
It was pleasant till a thud came from the letter door.
“I’ll get it.” You say, standing up. Your Dad nods, going to wash the dishes. Heading to the hallway, you pass pictures of you and Dad, happy smiles all around. It was almost a mocking sign of what is to come.
The envelope was fairly standard, a white envelope with a stamp and everything. It was addressed to Dad, his name written on it. So you give it to him, saying “Were you expecting a letter?”
Your dad gives you a confused look. “No. I can’t imagine who would. We have phones.”
You shrug, watching as he dried his hands, grabbing his cane and opening the letter. As you wiped the counter down, you frowned, noting how quiet it was. You glance up and feel your heart freeze with how pale Dad’s face looked. “Dad?!” You call out, approaching him. “What’s wrong!?”
You read over his shoulder. The first thing you note is how the person who wrote this letter drew a large poppy flower. You frown, also noting that it was drawn in crayon. " Who the fuck..?" You think, confused. You freeze upon seeing a familiar logo at the top of the letter.
Playtime Co.
You feel anger rise up, then immediately freeze as the words of the letter hit you.
Everyone thinks the staff disappeared 10 years ago.
WE’RE STILL HERE .
Find the Flower.
“Oh fuck…” you breathe out.