Sun/Moon Oneshots!

Phone calls from '83

Samuel Drop was a normal boy.

He did normal things, like get up in the morning, eat breakfast, go to school, come home, draw, that type of thing.

He was utterly normal, yet the odd phone that sat in his room wasn't. It was out of place, yet Sam never wanted it gone. Miles, his twin brother, always joked around saying it was a ‘magic phone’, which Sam ignored.

Sometimes, he'd just sit and watch it. It was painted a standard red, the paint now chipped and worn with time. How long had it been there? Sam had questioned. Most times, however, he just ignored it.

Until that day.

---

Miles would be out for hours, Sam's parents not home for the same length of time.

He smiled, shutting himself away in his room to draw. He wasn't great, but he liked to. He dropped onto his rotating chair, all of his art supplies on the desk near the old phone. It was broken (or he assumed so) but the cord was still there.

As Sam drew, the sun outside began to set, and just as the sunset was about to disappear, a phone rang.

It made Sam jump, looking around. Then, with horror, he realised it was coming from the old phone that was within arm's reach.

Despite his gut screaming at him not to, he shakily reached over, picking up the phone and putting it to his ear. He said nothing, waiting.

Then, a loud voice spoke. “Mark! Oh my- did you see what happened today? At the diner?! That shit was crazy- i was there man!” the sentence made Sam blink. What...? What diner? What happened?

Then, Sam realised. He was very into old stuff, researching the history of the Fazbear brand, another way he spent his time. Back in 1983, Freadbear's diner saw the tradegy of the century: the owners young son, name unknown, was placed into the mouth of the main mascot, Fredbear, and due to the tears the boy was crying, set off the springlocks around the jaw, crushing his head and he later ended up dying in hospital.

He gripped the phone's cord tightly, stare intense. “Hello?! Mark, are you even there? You didn't answer!” Sam shook his head, rubbing his eyes, managing to get out the words that were rattling around his brain the most. “This has to be a dream.”

The voice on the other line died down for a moment before they spoke, quieter than before but still hearable. “... You're not Mark...” Sam nodded, then remembered this was a phone call. Outside, the Sun has fully set, blanketing the rows and rows of houses in darkness, aside from the pinpricks of lights in far-off houses.

“Who.. are you...?” Sam asked. “No, no you first! What have you done with-” they began. “Ah, I asked first, plus you called me.” the other person sighed. “I'm Y/N L/N, you are?” the voice questioned. “Samuel Drop, but just call me Sam.” he replied.

Then, hesitantly, he added “what... Year is it?” Y/N cackled on the other side, before calming some and responding. “Do you not own a calendar, Sammy? It's 1983,”

The confirmation made Sam choke, but then his mind told him maybe it was his brother and his friends playing a prank on him. Miles did know that he studied the past of Fazbear entertainment in his spare time. He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yea, okay. I know you're pulling a prank on me, Miles.” Y/N's response, if there even was a person called Y/N taking to him, was quick, without stuttering. “Miles? Who's Miles?” Sam gave a bark of forced laughter. “Yea, okay, you had me fooled for a second. It's 2024, don't make me seem like an idiot.”

“It's not- I'm not- what do you mean it's- ugh, okay, listen. If I was this ‘Miles’ person, how would I be able to call on this phone? Does ‘Miles’ know the number? Unles he also has a phone of this type, he can't call. Make sense? Also, what do you mean it's 2024??” leaving the last question go unanswered, he pondered over what has been said. It made Sam pause. Maybe.. maybe this was an actual break in time?

He reached over for a notepad and pen, scribbling down what he knew. Just then, he heard a door slam downstairs, Miles's voice calling up the stairs. If Miles was prank calling him, then how come he was still on the phone with Y/N now? “-Ello, Sammy?”

The voice brought Sam out of his trance, reminding him he was still on the phone. “Listen, i- I have to go, can we call tomorrow? Uh, seven thirty maybe?” Y/N groaned, “You didn't answer my-” they began. “I will tomorrow, if you call.” Y/N agreed and Sam hung up, sat still in his chair, stunned.

Then, he tore off out of his room to the bathroom to throw up.