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There are just enough trees around the Pizzaplex to blot out the lights from the parking lot. Once you're through them, the sudden harsh artificial light makes the looming darkened Pizzaplex feel even stranger. There's always something a little unsettling about spaces built to be full of people standing empty, and even more so about seeing a place meant to be lit with darkened windows.
And that was exactly how you liked it.
Like a mouse nestling down in a cozy mouse hole, soft, safe, protected.
You unlock the door and raise the shutters before re-locking it all behind you. Is this illegal? Technically not, you have the key. Would you be fired in ten seconds flat if your boss saw you do this? Almost undoubtedly. But there it was, that advantage of empty space. No one who would take offense to your presence is around to see.
The Pizzaplex is dark inside. "Eco mode" your boss calls it. "Budget mode," the staff likes to joke. The Pizzaplex isn't in danger of going out of business, but it doesn't have quite the funds to burn money carelessly like it used to either. Thus all of the lights and attractions power down at night. Most of the animatronics even, except one.
That was exactly how you liked it, as well.
You don't bother trying to bring any light into the darkened space. You don't need to. You put a hand to the wall and can judge by the texture under your fingers, the echo of your shoes. Not that it matters much if you know where you are or not, you don't have a particular destination in mind. You don't bother trying to find what you're looking for, he'll find you.
You make a few loops through hallways and lobbies, not bothering to duck into any of the actual attractions. Just the walking itself is already helping a little, even after the awful day you just had. Something about the rhythm of movement, unhurried but consistent, is in itself relaxing. You close your eyes as you walk, not that there's any difference when you do. It takes some of the strain off your mind though.
Eventually you hear it. A low, excited giggle. You open your eyes.
"Staaaarlight." The voice comes from directly above you. Moon must know his laugh already gave him away.
"Mooonlight," you call back, jokingly imitating his tone and cadence.
A small sound of movement. Your eyes latch on to the faint illumination coming from Moon as he lands nearby, the wire he descends on invisible but audible as it disconnects. In the dark, you can only see the glowing yellow stars and the faint crescent side of his face, making him appear to be nothing but a piece of the night sky.
"Couldn't sleep?" Moon asks.
"No, I couldn't," you tell him, voice feeling tiny in the vast darkness. It was a half truth. You might have been able to if you had actually laid down. You hadn't, the thought of laying there alone had been too much.
Moon giggles again, louder, even more excitedly than before. You make out the slightest hint of his arms as he wraps them around himself.
Sun must be awake. It's usually hard to tell from the outside when Sun's AI is still active and when he's in rest mode, but you recognize that self hugging gesture. Moon only does it when Sun is awake in there with him.
"Not very nice to laugh at me for that," you comment. "I had..." you can't quite think of the words. "A day today."
Moon's faceplate rotates, a familiar and surprisingly satisfying motion to watch. He giggles again.
"Not laughing at you, Starlight," he says. "Happy to see you. Always nice, to feel something."
You take a moment to roll that last sentence around in your head. While Moon is a fully sentient AI, sometimes his speech programming could be a little difficult to follow. Especially so when he was describing something new. As hard as you try to puzzle that one out, you can't figure out what he meant.
Moon waits for you to finish thinking, jumping from foot to foot in a way that comes across more as entertaining than impatient.
"What do you mean?" You resort to asking. "Always nice to feel something. Can you rephrase that?"
Another spin of his faceplate, another giggle.
"We don't, usually," he tells you. "Programmed to simulate, to act, not to actually feel. But we're always happy to see you. Always, every time, happy. You don't come this late unless something is wrong. We can make it better, we will make it better for you. That's happy, again. We're excited to help. Tell us."
You sigh, thinking about your day. Was it even really that big a deal? Just like how your voice felt small in such a large space, so do your problems. An hour ago you'd felt like you might come apart at the seams if you couldn't talk to someone about it all, but now you're starting to feel silly for coming all the way to the Pizzaplex for that. It isn't like you'd been attacked on the street by wild dogs or something that would consist of a real problem.
"I just... It was... I don't know," you mumble. You aren't sure where to start, or if you even should start.
Just as you're about to sink down into the usual mire of doubts and anxieties, you feel something. Cool fingers brushing against your arm, barely touching. You must have missed Moon holding out his hand for you in the darkness. Knowing what he wanted, you take his hand and wrap your fingers around his.
He squeezes your hand, gently, twice. Once for himself, once for Sun. You do the same. Moon is laughing again, tone giddy.
Moon starts leading you through the Pizzaplex, his route just as aimless as the one you had taken by yourself. But you aren't by yourself now. There's the pressure on your hand, the faint glow of stars in front of you. Moon's music box starts up, quiet little notes and clicks.
The music he plays isn't a song, exactly. It's more a melodic noise than anything, made up just as much of mechanical noise as it is actual notes. His music box has been broken for years. You remember the first time he tried to play it for you, desperate to offer some comfort despite knowing that part of him had stopped working properly so long ago. You remember being surprised at how strangely soothing the broken noise was. As much as you love the sound of it, you had still offered to get it replaced with a working one for him. He had refused. You had a feeling he could tell how much you liked the sound the way it was.
The sound of the music box trails off after a while, leaving an uncomfortable gap. You start speaking to fill it.
"You know, I saw something pretty cool today," you tell him. He squeezes your hand again, twice, to show that he and Sun are listening.
You keep talking, telling him about all the little things you'd seen that day. Pretty colors, shiny things, small smiles and curiosities. When you run out of steam, starting to feel lost again, the music box picks up to fill the silence. By the time the sound ebbs away, you've thought of something else. Bit by bit you open up to him about your day. Your voice raises as you get to the bad parts, the words coming out in an increasingly frantic rant. Suddenly all the emotion of the day isn't small, it isn't silly, it's ready to tear you apart all over again. Or maybe already has. You feel cracked through, broken, everything that was in you leaking out.
You pretend Moon can't see you crying in the dark, even though you know good and well that he has night vision.
When you're done with everything, you feel...
Not better, exactly. Hollow. An empty space where everything had been.
A laugh in the darkness, again.
"I knew I was missing you extra today," Moon says. "That must be why. I should have come and found you, before any of that could happen."
You can't help but reply with a snort of a laugh of your own.
"You can't leave the Pizzaplex, Moon," you point out.
"Not supposed to," he tells you. "Not supposed to miss you, either. And you're not supposed to be treated so carelessly by the world, no, too precious. But it all happens. Should have been there for you."
"I'm fine," you say. "I'll be fine. It wasn't a big deal-"
Moon doesn't respond verbally, but suddenly there are two red lights focused directly on you. Security mode. Moon had activated security mode for that.
He wouldn't threaten you, you know. His reaction must be for something else. Like he thinks he can threaten your own worries and doubts, to chase them off as if they're intruders in his space.
"I'll be okay," you tell him. "You're here now. So I'll be okay."
The red light fades out, slowly. The hand wrapped around yours squeezes gently, twice. The two of you walk for a bit longer, Moon's music box filling the silence with all sorts of little noises. Eventually the hard floor under your shoes turns soft. You recognize the feeling of the daycare's floor mats.
"I'll build a blanket fort," Moon says. "Good for keeping away monsters."
"It's not monsters I'm worried about," you say.
"No, of course not," he replies. "The blanket fort will keep them out. No need for worry."
Moon presses a plushie into your arms, his hand slipping away from yours. You don't need to see to know it's one of his. Apparently he thinks you need the comfort, with him being nearly 10 feet away for an entire five minutes.
... You hug the plushie tight, the little bell on its hat jingling. It is pretty comforting.
Rustles of blankets and pillows, quiet movements. After a bit of time there's a hand on your arm, more suggesting a direction than actually pulling you. You go along with it.
Inside the blanket fort it's warm. There are so many soft things piled inside that it's hard to move, sinking into blankets and pillows each time you try. Funny enough, it's actually brighter inside. The glow from Moon reflects off the blanket walls, filling the small space with dim light.
Moon notices your struggling and pulls you half onto his lap, laid across his legs. He pats your back and you let out a huff, pretending to be annoyed at the treatment.
Only pretending to be, though.
"I'm here now, we're here now," Moon tells you. "No nightmares. We promise. It's safe to sleep."
The first time he'd told you that, you hadn't believed him. His words had proven to be true every single time though, you'd never had a bad dream when Moon was near.
"I don't want to sleep," you say.
"That's alright, you don't need to," Moon replies, even though it must be hell on his programming to tell you that. "But if you wanted to, it would be safe."
You run your fingers over the nearest blanket in reach, thumb going over the wonderfully soft texture over and over. Moon's hand is still on your back, steadying, careful.
"Tell me about your day?" You ask.
"Of course, Starlight."
And he does. He tells you about everything, tone even and calm, all the mundane little events that had happened. As he speaks his music box starts up again, managing to provide a sound complimentary to his voice despite its broken state. You can feel the little clicks of the machinery echo through his frame. The empty feeling inside of you diminishes, bit by bit, word by word.
And eventually, you do fall asleep.