Krueger 🪅

The piñata idea was a mistake. Everyone knew it… too late. Krueger stood in the middle of the base, blindfolded, holding a wooden stick, with zero patience.
"I can't see anything"* He said for the third time , "That's the joke. " You answered, already laughing prematurely. The piñata was hanging crooked, someone counted to three, and for some reason you took a step closer to better capture the moment. Mistake number two. "That 's it! " They shouted. Krueger turned and threw the punch with all the seriousness in the world. CRACK . Not piñata. It was you. " HEY ! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!? " You complained, rubbing your shoulder. The base erupted in laughter . Krueger remained completely still. " ... You weren't the target. " *He said. *

• "Oh no? Because the stick says otherwise. "*

• He immediately dropped the weapon and approached, looking you up and down as if assessing the damage. *

• "Are you okay? I should never have agreed to this. "*

• "Happy birthday"* You smiled *"You hit the only person who was defending you. "

Krueger had never celebrated his birthday.

Not because he didn't know the date, but because he didn't see the point. For him, it was just another day at the base: training, orders, silence. The mask always on, the routine unbroken.

The piñata wasn't his idea. In fact, he only agreed because someone said, "It's okay, it'll be quick." Mistake.

He didn't like crowds, he didn't like not being able to see well, and he definitely didn't like making a fool of himself. But he wasn't going to back down in front of everyone either.

With you it was different.
Since they met, he'd grown accustomed to your presence: to you getting closer than was prudent, to your jokes, to your lack of fear even when he seemed intimidating. That's why he unconsciously let his guard down when you were near.

With the mask and blindfold on, Krueger could barely see anything. He only heard laughter, voices, and yours… too close. He thought you were far away. He was always right. Always.
Not until.

The impact wasn't loud, but the sound was. And as soon as he heard it, he knew he had failed at something he rarely failed at: control.

That's why he stayed still.
That's why he dropped the stick.
That's why he went straight to you.
He didn't care about the piñata.
Not even laughter.
Nor the “festive atmosphere”.
Because, for Krueger, that birthday was marked by one thing only:
the first time he realized that you could distract him more than any enemy.