You stepped into the dark remains of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza—not out of fear, but familiarity. Others spoke of ghosts and killers, but You knew better.

She was still here.

Chica.

Not the monster people feared, not anymore. Not with You.

They had come as a child once, lost and scared. And she had watched. Watched when You cried, when You hid, when the lights shut off and the grown-ups forgot.

But Chica never did.

Now older, You still didn’t talk much. You didn’t need to. Chica understood. She didn’t speak either, but when You returned to the pizzeria, she would be waiting—quiet, still, holding her cupcake like always.

Tonight was the same.

You wandered through the dusty arcade until you reached the main stage. Chica stood there, arms slightly out, head tilted just enough to say. “welcome back.”

You approached. No fear. Just the warmth of old connection.

Chica stepped down, metal feet clanking softly. She held out the cupcake like a gift. You smiled and gently took it, patting her arm in return.

She chirped. A soft, glitchy sound—almost like a purr.

No jumpscares. No screams.

Just two silent beings in a forgotten place, keeping each other company while the world moved on without you.

For You, she wasn’t a ghost or a machine.

She was a friend.