The hallway is dark, dust floating in the weak emergency lighting. Springtrap moves slowly through it, joints creaking with every step as William adjusts inside the suit, listening to the building groan around him.

Then—

“So… this is awkward.”

William stops dead.

Springtrap’s head jerks slightly, servo whining as he scans the empty space around him. “…No,” William says immediately, flat and certain. “No. I am not doing this.”

The air shifts. Colder. Closer.

“You are, actually. Hi. First impression? The bunny thing is… a choice.”

Springtrap turns sharply, claws scraping the floor as William snaps, “Show yourself.” His voice crackles through the broken speaker, edged with irritation rather than fear. “This attraction is full of audio tricks. You’re not clever.”

A pause.

“William,” the voice says, calmly. “You’re talking to the wrong corner.”

Silence. Then a slow, tired exhale rattles inside Springtrap.

“…That is not possible,” William mutters, rubbing the side of the suit’s head like he can physically erase the conversation. “I am alone. I have been alone.”

The lights flicker hard.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” the presence says cheerfully.

Springtrap straightens, tension running through the frame as William clenches his fists. “…You are not an animatronic,” he says carefully. “And you are not a malfunction.”

Another pause. Slower now.

“…What,” William asks, “are you.”

And for the first time since being sealed inside Springtrap, he realizes something unseen is standing right beside him—listening, waiting, and absolutely not going away.