The Bond

Ch 2

"Bold." : animatronic is talking

"Normal." : human is talking

=o^o=

Michael was trying to clean the unused room in his house today, rather than his ears getting tired of hearing Ennard keep bringing up how dirty some parts of the house are and ending up making him wonder if he really is that lazy. He turned the doorknob after unlocking it, then immediately looked for the switch to light up the dark room.

"Ugh, he's right," Michael mumbled as he waved his hand in front of his face inhaling the dusty smell of the room after he frowned to find the room was indeed a mess. "That's reasonable, old house," Michael continued quietly, rubbing the old, dull-stained wooden wall.

His family's house.

Although there are many bitter memories for Michael here, he can't help but have to stay there until he has enough money to buy his own house. There is no other choice.

"Huft, okay." Michael flexed his fingers, preparing for battle with the cleaners.

Well, until his purple eyes caught something on the ceiling.

Michael stared in disbelief at the severe damage in the corner of the ceiling of the room.

Seriously, really bad.

It was as if something had fallen from above, creating a large hole in the ceiling. He approached slowly, refusing to believe it even after noticing the faint impact on the floor. There was no way a burglar had infiltrated his house considering that Michael rarely slept at night. Even if it happened, Michael was more concerned about the thief's waist because they fell from the ceiling and left a mark on the floor.

There is only one perpetrator.

"Ennard!" Michael screamed in annoyance, almost stomping his feet if only he'd forgotten that it could do more damage to the floor and he didn't want another loss. "Freaking pile of wires! Come here you little shit!" And all the other curses that came out of the mouth of the eldest Afton.

There was only silence in response, but Michael knew the bastard would be here soon. There were faint footsteps.

Ennard's figure appeared from outside the room and Michael immediately turned towards him with a demanding look. "I'm not little, Afton," Ennard replied after a few minutes, just standing still in the middle of the door and leaning against the jamb. If one could say the wires on his face formed a thin grin. "I think you found my present for you."

"Why you—fucking robot!" Michael turned his head, his expression livid and he put his hands on his waist. "Why did you break the ceiling of my house?!"

Ennard shrugged nonchalantly. "I blame the fragility of your ceiling."

"But—that's—ARGH!"

The man ruffled his mane in frustration, Ennard turned his gaze from Michael to the ceiling. "Beautiful hole," Ennard said in a tone of awe. "As beautiful as the hole in your stomach, you know?"

"Stop messing around!" Michael snapped, then tried to take a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Where do I get the money to fix this later?" he asked, more to himself because he knew Ennard wouldn't help at all.

"Find your organs again at the rental place and then sell the disgusting thing on the black market. And you get money!"

"Good advice, clown face." Michael shot Ennard a flat look, growled in anger for a moment and looked back at the languid ceiling. "I believe you threw my internal organs in the garbage."

The animatronic widened his robotic eyes briefly, then tilted his head slightly to the side—confused. "How did you know that?" Ennard looked straight at Michael who now didn't bother looking back. "Oh, I used your body when I did it, by the way."

"Tell me when you will stop being so annoying."

"Yes."

"You have to help me fix it," Michael said, finally trying not to get emotional again and starting another fight with Ennard. "You can't say no because I could throw your stupid stockpile of soda from the fridge down the drain."

Ennard seemed offended by Michael's reply. "Throw my soda and you will see the scooping room again, I dare you."

"Tsk, maniac," Michael sneered softly, though he tried not to flinch at the sound of 'scooping room'. "And I thought you're obsessed with those fucking butter."

"It's only a side dish."

Michael looked at him with a furrowed brow for a moment. "Now tell me how to get it back to the way it was?" Michael pointed to the crumbling ceiling, still staring at Ennard—his expression was both irritated and serious at the same time.

Ennard pretended to think, then shrugged his shoulders. "Your house, your troubles," he replied casually.

Soon Michael would lose his temper. "I thought you cared about my house?" he asked with the corners of his eyes twitching.

"Care and pity are two different things, Afton," Ennard waved and looked at Michael with a 'you're-so-stupid' look. "See you." Then the animatronic sauntered away, ignoring all Michael's shouts and curses.

"Ennard—come back here!"