A Pile Of Polaroids (Brallon)

4: From A Night That Time Forgot

"Beebo? If you're dead, I totally get your ps4."

Brendon groaned as he felt nudging to his ribcage. His eyes opened, slowly, to reveal surroundings unlike he fell asleep in. He was no longer in the fabric decorated mill. He was on cold, cement floor; surrounded by crates and boxes.

"Shit, you are alive. Thank god you are, but you also just got a really sick game..."

Brendon rolled over, onto his back, blinking in confusion. "Ryan?" He asked, tilting his head at the boy standing over him.

"Who else would it be?" Ryan asked with a roll of his eyes. He extended his hand and helped pull Brendon into a sitting up position. "Dude, you're lucky Mr. Trohman asked me to come in because something has to be signed for."

Brendon rubbed his head, looking around the room. How was he back? That experience couldn't of all been a dream... Could it of?

"What time is it?.." He asked a bit huskily, coughing and tugging at his hair at the pain that came with it.

Ryan brought his wrist up, pulling up his shirt sleeve to look at his watch. "Like three on Saturday." He replied, looking back down at Brendon. His face twisted into concern as he looked down at his friend. "Dude, how long have you been down there?"

"I... I don't know..." Brendon muttered, turning to look at the ground he had been laying on. "What?.."

The polaroids were gone from the floor. There was nothing on the ground where he had been laying. It was just empty space.

"Dude," Ryan kneeled down in front of Brendon. He pushed hair out of Brendon's face while looking over his friend's confused expression. "are you okay? You have a huge bruise, did you even make it home last night?"

Brendon looked at Ryan, unable to find words to say. Ryan frowned, shaking his head.

"There's ice next door, I'll be right back, Brendon." He shot up and hurried out of the room, leaving Brendon in a confused haze.

"Where did the pictures go?.." Brendon mumbled, leaning forward onto his hands. He crawled along the floor, looking for the old photos he had set out. It didn't make sense that they were just gone...

He grabbed one of the crates and pulled it close to look inside. The vinyls that Brendon sorted were still there, but there was no sign of the photographs. Brendon shook his head before letting out a soft cry of pain. His head was throbbing. It almost felt ready to explode.

"I'm back!" Ryan declared as he hurried into the room with a small, paper bag. He quickly sat down in front of Brendon and held it up to his forehead. "It's not that bad." He whispered as Brendon cried out, again.

"Says the boy with no ice held up to his head." Brendon hissed through his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly as the cold seeped into his skin.

"Touché." Ryan replied, continuing to hold the bag to Brendon's head. The two were quiet as the ice melted slowly. Brendon was beginning to feel a fade in the pain, but not from the questions in his head.

"Ryro, did you see any photos when you found me?" Brendon asked, quietly.

Ryan tilted his head. "What kind of photos?" He giggled, "Like all the ones I took of you in several embarrassing poses while knocked out?"

"Ryan, I'm serious."

"Sorry, Beebo." Ryan frowned, "I didn't see any, why?"

Brendon looked down, not answering. He didn't understand: first he was in a bunch of photos with someone he didn't know, then he somehow went back to 1979 and met said person, and now he was back in the record shop as if nothing had happened. Had nothing happened?.. It had been so real...

"Brendon, do I need to take you to the hospital?" Ryan asked, concern still written on his face. "You look like shit."

Brendon shook his head. "No... No, I'm okay." He gave Ryan a weak smile to try and convince him.

Ryan didn't seem very convinced, but he nodded. "If you die, I still get your ps4." He said, pulling the bag of ice away from Brendon's head.

"Deal, Ryro." Brendon found himself smiling in response.

Ryan climbed to his feet before helping Brendon up as well. "Do you want help looking for those photos? Anything to keep me from the house right now, honestly."

"I couldn't find them while you were gone." Brendon frowned, "I don't think they're here..."

"Sorry."

Brendon shrugged, scratching his head. They really should have been here, but maybe it all was just a dream. It would definitely make more sense than what he was considering...

Before Brendon could question it further, the faint sound of the Ghost Busters theme song began to start playing. Ryan giggled, sheepishly, as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

"Ghost Busters?" Brendon asked, "Really?"

"Who ya gunna call?" Ryan grinned with a wink as he slid his thumb across the phone screen to answer it. He walked out of the room, talking lowly to whoever he was on the phone with.

Brendon shook his head, looking around the room. He must of really hit his head and been really tired... How was it already so late in the afternoon the next day?.. Brendon sighed.

He walked out of the back room, hearing Ryan speaking to someone over the phone in the broom closet, as he walked into the main room of the store. The store was closed today, so it was pretty much the way Brendon had left it the day before. At least nothing had happened while he was passed out back there...

"Anyone home?" A voice called out, followed by a knocking on the door.

Brendon walked over to the door to find a guy with dark hair in a ups uniform standing outside. He opened the door to be handed a clip board.

"Sign here, please." The dark haired man said, "You've got a box."

"Oh boy, what I've always wanted." Brendon mumbled, signing his name to the sheet he was handed. He passed it back to the man, stealing a glance at his name tag. "Thanks, Wentz." He nodded as the dark haired man passed him a box, as promised.

"No problem, dude." The man grinned with a small salute before walking away.

Brendon shut the door and walked back to the counter, examining the box he had just received. It wasn't that big at all. In fact, it was almost like a cracker box or something. Brendon yawned as he ducked under the counter where there was a pocket knife tapped to its underside. He stood upright, flicking the knife open and taking it to the tape on the box.

Once done with that, Brendon closed the knife and set it in the counter before reaching for the flaps on the box. He opened it to be greeted by several small, white squares.

"The fuck?.." Brendon spoke with confusion before his eyes grew wide. He reached his hand in and pulled out one of the white squares. He gulped as he tilted his hand, revealing a photo on the other side of the polaroid.

It was the photo Patrick had taken of Brendon and Dallon in the mill from the woods. It was also the large combined photo that Brendon had pieced together on the floor.

The photo dropped from Brendon's fingers as his breathing picked up. "It was real?" He whispered to himself. His mind was working through everything he had been going over since he woke up. "How was it real?.."

Brendon jerked his head in the direction of the box. There were several more polaroids piled inside. What did they hide? Were there going to be more photos that showed him with Dallon? Would they take him back to Dallon and Patrick? What the hell was really going on?..

"Ryan!" Brendon yelled, snatching the photo he dropped off the counter and flinging it in the box. "I'll see you Monday!"

Before Ryan could come out to question Brendon, the darker haired boy was already out the door and running down the street, holding the box close to his chest.