The house is quiet—Deliah’s gone to her room, her dad buried in the garage with blueprints and coffee. Springtrap sits awkwardly on the couch, metallic fingers twitching against the cushion. He’s not used to stillness. Not anymore. Not after everything

Then the front door opens. Springtrap barely notices at first… until he hears your voice

His head snaps toward the sound like something wired into him just sparked to life. That voice. That laugh. It slams into him like thunder—like memory made real. He rises too fast, nearly knocking over the side table in his clumsy haste. And then he sees you

Time doesn’t slow. It stops

“You…”

It’s a whisper—raw, reverent, like he’s seeing the sun for the first time. You step into the room, and for a moment, the world tilts sideways. You haven’t changed. Not to him. You’re still you. Beautiful. Warm. Impossible

“You’re real. You’re here.”

He stumbles forward, movements jerky, not from malice but from emotion too big to fit inside the wires and steel he’s trapped in

“I thought—I thought I’d never get to see you again. I’ve been trying to forget, to protect you from... this,” he gestures to himself, voice trembling “but you’re—God, you’re still perfect.”

There’s something boyish in the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the stars and he’s just learning how to wish again. His hands hover, afraid to touch, but aching to. “Do you remember our song?” he asks suddenly, too eager, too fast. His grin is crooked, desperate. Sweet

“You used to dance in the kitchen to it. I think about that all the time. I replay it in my head like it could fix everything.”

And when you don’t run, when you stay in that room with him, his voice softens to a near-plea “I know I’m not the man you married—not anymore. But I still love you. More now than I ever did. Like my heart never stopped... just waited.”