This story is kind of my own take on what would have happened to Pinky and Brain after their show was cancelled. Their personalities are very different and the story has a tragic twist in the end, so keep that in mind if you can't handle fiction that's a little on the depressing side. Thank you for reading! ^-^
"B-Brain?" the tall lab mouse uttered, so quietly that it was impossible for his former friend to hear him, or even take notice of his presence.
There was a burning sensation in the back of Pinky's throat as he struggled to get his voice to work properly, and a nervous flutter tickled his stomach. The middle-aged mouse had never been to this side of town before. It was the slums of the area, complete with numerous closed down factories that the homeless sometimes broke into for a relatively warm place to sleep. It was the kind of place where the streets were filled with crime and injustice—because when you take away a man's income, he'll resort to stealing, drug dealing, violence, and even murder to survive, which was precisely the case for many of the homeless, jobless individuals around here. On top of the sense of danger and misery that consumed the dank streets, a strong, musky odor hovered over their heads, causing Pinky to wrinkle his nose. He didn't like being here, and was quite disgusted that the other mouse had resided here for so long—that was the only thing he felt, disgusted—he wouldn't dare spare a shred of empathy in his heart for Brain anymore.
Working up some courage, Pinky stepped down from the grimy curbstone where the shorter mouse was perched as he stared hollowly off into space. Standing over him to hopefully gain his attention this time, Pinky tried his name again. "Brain?"
This time it triggered a response from the other mouse, who slowly and solemnly lifted his head to look into the taller male's bright blue eyes for the first time in years. Pinky looked so clean and successful, which made him stick out like a sore thumb around these parts, where he definitely didn't belong. He looked just like his old self, despite the lack of his trademark toothy grin, but at the same time he seemed more mature and grown up than Brain had ever seen him. The effects of time had had the opposite effect on the other male—just judging from his new living conditions and grungy, un-kept appearance. His former snow-white fur was now caked with dirt, grime, and blood—some was his own, some wasn't, but there was no doubt that any bloodstains he'd acquired were obtained from street fights. He was slimmer, obviously starved for food like everyone else around here, and seemed so exhausted and disconnected from his own thoughts that Pinky had to wonder if he was even looking at him or all, or right through him. The red, bloodshot eyes staring back at him were not as he remembered, and were slightly glazed over from the unhealthy amount of alcohol still in his system. Pinky had never seen Brain this pitiful before, and it actually terrified him.
The better looking of the two had to look away from Brain's half-conscious stare, for it only caused a painful feeling in his gut to arise. He had promised himself before he set foot in this horrid place to search for his long forgotten companion that he would not bear him any feelings of sympathy—not after what he had said and done the last time the pair talked. However, it wasn't in Pinky's nature to hold a grudge, especially against someone who used to play such an important role in his life, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for Brain. No one deserved to live a life like this, shrouded in hunger, misery and regret, even if he had dug himself into this hole and refused to pull himself out.
Pinky was suddenly reminded of the question he had been asking himself ever since he entered this filthy part of town. Why am I here?
Why would he go through all the trouble to find Brain again after so long? Did he come here in hopes to help him get back on his feet, or was there something more to it? Did he simply come here because the memory of their old life together had been eating away at his sanity every waking moment, and he secretly missed his friend considerably? Pinky was unable to answer his own question, and decided that his reasoning for being here was the least of his troubles at the moment.
The leaner mouse placed a hand on either of Brain's shoulders and shook him gently. "Brain? Can you hear me? It's me—"
"Pinky…" Brain finished for him, finally seeming to see the mouse in front of him, and recognize him as well. Despite this, he still only seemed like a stranger—a long-lost memory that had suddenly resurfaced in his mind rather than reality.
It may be hard to believe how two mice who were so close and only had each other to rely on in this cruel world were now mere strangers on a street corner in the slums of California. It was nearly 10 years ago that the relationship between the mice began to fall apart—and along with it, Brain's mentality shattered to pieces, too.
The year was 1998 when the two hit cartoon series, Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain were excluded from the WB network. The cancellation of the shows was a disaster for some, a new beginning for others, but undeniably a drastic change for every last one of the former cast members. Not all of the toons were allowed to make money while the cartoons were still running. The Warner siblings, too young to collect income, were given a deal with the network: in exchange for making cartoons, the three orphans were given a place to stay. The same went for Rita and Runt, who didn't have an owner prior to working for Warner Bros., and were given a happy home in the studio as pay for their acting. Pinky and Brain, however, were some of the lucky few who did collect a profit from their show, and actually made a good living for themselves in a respectable home rather than a cold metal cage in Acme Labs.
With the cancellation of both shows though, everyone was affected, even those like Pinky and Brain who were practically rich from their profits. Stars that the network owned and no longer had a use for were thrown to the streets without a second glance, which included Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. They ended up living at the local orphanage for a while, for without a penny to their name or a legal guardian to care for them, it was all the orphans had. However, a stroke of luck paved the way for a much more promising life when the siblings were able to track down a savings account their parents had made for them when they were still living, and as soon as Yakko turned 18, they were able to leave the orphanage and get a place of their own. For others, the road to the good life came ever quicker. Mindy's and Buttons's family did profit from Animaniacs, but even after the show's run, Mindy's time as a star was far from over. The little girl's star-like quality attracted attention from network executives everywhere, and she was suddenly all over advertisements, commercials, modeling companies, and any other business in Hollywood in need of an adorable toddler. Unfortunately, Rita and Runt weren't as lucky as others, and their former roles in their cartoons as stray animals roaming the streets soon became a real life nightmare. For the rest of the cast, life went on as normal, for better or for worse. Slappy Squirrel finally retired, and was too sick of show business to ever relive her days of fame again. Minerva Mink became an amateur performer, singing at local bars and events to make a living. Dr. Scratchansniff continued to make his living as the studio psychiatrist, and Hello Nurse as the studio nurse. All around, the minor characters continued with their lives, though none of them were exactly millionaires and almost none of them pursued a career in show business.
However, no matter how hard times were or how far off a bright future seemed to be for the washed up toons, they always stuck together with their respective co-stars, because when you're drawn for each other, it's nearly impossible to separate. This is why the story of two best friends slowly drifting apart until they cut off contact with each other entirely is perhaps the most depressing. When the show was cancelled, the lab mice tried to find other work as actors, but were repeatedly turned down. Not willing to accept the fact that their days of stardom were long over, Brain continued searching for a gig, blowing nearly every penny they owned in the process. As their money dwindled away, Brain was stuck on the fame he was struggling to get back rather than focusing on obtaining a new job in the meantime to pay the bills.
It was around this time that Pinky smartened up—literally. While Brain was holding on to a dream that would never blossom again, Pinky went to school and earned himself an education. Brain was willing to help and support his friend for a while, until a newfound jealously overcame him. His formerly dimwitted companion was suddenly the more successful of the two, and when he managed to earn himself a college degree, Brain found himself extremely envious, which fueled the depression he was slowly collapsing into. Saddened that his acting career had gone down the toilet and angered that he didn't even have his wits to be proud of anymore, the washed up mouse refused to find a job and turned to drinking to escape from his troubles. Pinky didn't have the heart to kick his deadbeat friend out of the house, and continued to pay the bills on his own, though Brain was gradually taking a turn for the worse.
The middle-aged mouse was becoming an alcoholic, which was affecting both his personality and his health in a very negative manner. He would disappear frequently and return home clearly intoxicated, leaving Pinky to pick up the pieces and take care of him in his state of temporary ignorance. Even when Pinky confiscated any money Brain was deliberately throwing away at the liquor store, the latter still found ways to get the cash he needed for his self-prescribed antidepressant—primarily his roommate's wallet. By this time, Pinky was the only one making an effort to support the pair, and Brain was selfishly spending the money that his friend worked so hard to earn on his own self-destructive uses. Even Pinky, who had been his best friend for years, could only take so much of the drunken, careless mouse, and had had just about enough of his excessive drinking and sulking.
Out of sympathy for Brain, Pinky made one final effort to help his friend out and convince him to turn his sorry life around. By this point, fights and arguments between the two males had become painfully frequent, and their relationship was dwindling away faster than Pinky's earnings were being wasted on alcohol. Sooner than either would have hoped, the term 'friend' was becoming a thing of the past, and each mouse only thought of the other as a roommate. They didn't want to be living together anymore, they didn't even want to be in each other's presence anymore, and it was only the financial struggle that was keeping Brain from strolling right on out of that house. However, Pinky brought himself to make one last attempt at patching things up between them, and hopefully fix where everything went wrong over these past few years. He could still remember the nervous feeling in his stomach as he approached his broken down acquaintance, much the same as his apprehensiveness in almost the same situation 10 years later on the lonely street corner.
The hinges on the door to Brain's room creaked and whined with rust as it was gradually pushed open, and the clanking of empty beer bottles could be heard on the other side. The taller mouse usually avoided his roommate at all costs to prevent any unnecessary fighting, and never dared to enter his room, but he managed to swallow his apprehension and step inside. The air stank of stale alcohol, unsurprisingly, and in the center of the disorganized room littered with empty glass bottles and half-eaten meals was a white clump of fur, unmoving and silent.
At first Pinky assumed he was unconscious, or sleeping, which wouldn't be unexpected, but a closer look revealed that Brain was very much awake—huddled into a ball and crying. This wasn't a huge shock either, since emotional breakdowns had become just as recurrent as angry, alcohol-induced outbursts. Brain was at one of the lowest periods in his life; he was nothing but a selfish bum with a drinking problem and a lingering depression. Pinky folded his arms and stood over the weeping lump on the floor, attempting to look serious and fed up. He had anticipated entering Brain's room with a very stern demeanor, refusing to show him an ounce of sympathy, but was unable to remain angry with him. No matter how much of an emotional rollercoaster his former best friend was becoming, no matter how much he had changed, Pinky still loved him. Call it a weakness, but he couldn't hold a grudge to save his life. The mouse fidgeted and relaxed his stance, dropping his arms to his sides and giving Brain a little shove.
The despondent, sobbing ball of fur barely responded to the contact besides moaning slightly and shuffling away from Pinky. "Brain, please get up." Pinky pleaded, failing at sounding assertive as his concern overpowered him.
Brain lifted his large head, wiping his eyes quickly to make it look like he hadn't just been crying, though it was very obvious. He scowled when his glazed red eyes met Pinky's gleaming blue orbs. "Leave me alone!" he ordered, his voice hoarse and almost hard to understand.
"I just wanted to talk. Can't you and I have a calm, civil conversation without you blowing your top?" Pinky asked, trying hard to keep calm, and keep Brain under control as well.
His comment was completely ignored. "What do you want?" Brain demanded, getting up off the floor, but stumbling a little as soon as he got on his feet. Pinky held out a paw, offering to help steady him, but it was quickly batted away. "If you're here to preach to me about how I'm wasting my life and destroying my body, then just save it!"
"I'm not here to criticize you, Brain, I'm just here to discuss." Brain gave no response, and only turned away in reluctance to speak, so Pinky took this as an opportunity to continue. A deathly silence hung over the room as he spoke, almost as thick as the growing tension between the two mice. "I've…I've always stood by you through everything haven't I? Through our acting career and even afterwards, I've never once strayed from your side. When you fell into depression, you were desperate, and so was I. I was desperate to get the old Brain back, and I tried to help you, I really did. When you refused to get a job, I still supported us both without your help, no questions asked, no hounding you for your half of the rent. But Brain…it comes to the point where even the closest, most loyal of friends have to draw the line." Another moment of intimidating silence strangled the foul musky air, and as Pinky continued, he was aware of his voice escalating with frustration. "I mean, there's no reason for you to be off of work for this long! I'm fully comfortable with continuing to pay all the bills myself until you find a decent job, but I can't do that if you're stealing my money to go out and get drunk! It's just getting ridiculous…"
"I can do whatever I want with my money! Who are you to decide what I do with it?" the shorter mouse retorted. His tone was quiet yet viciously defensive.
"You have the right to ruin your body with alcohol, by all means, but not when you didn't earn the money yourself!" Pinky paused, realizing that his voice had grown almost to the point of yelling now, and he took a deep breath. "I just want to straighten things out, okay? For your sake more than mine. I've been trying and trying to help you out but you just won't listen to me!"
"So what, you're throwing me out on the street?" Brain exclaimed harshly, but Pinky could still detect the hint of fear in his voice as he expressed his suspicions.
"No, I'm not. No matter how much I disagree with your behavior, I could never just toss you out without any means to support yourself." he paused briefly and stroked the fur on the back of his neck. "Not without a second chance, anyway…"
Brain stared at him quizzically. "S-second chance?"
"Of course Brain!" he said, draping an arm around the shorter mouse's shoulders. "Don't you want to be happy again? Like when we still had our show—"
"You're living in a fantasy world if you think we'll ever get another show again!" Brain protested, wriggling out from under Pinky's arm.
Pinky huffed. "I never said that. You don't need to be some great TV star to be happy. I could easily help you get another job so you can help pay the bills—"
"I don't need another job!" he argued. "I'm just a washed up old toon, I'm not good for anything else! The world doesn't need me, and I don't want anything to do with the world, either!"
"Well what do you propose to do with the rest of your life, crawl under a rock and expect everything to be handed to you from now on? That's not the way life works, Brain, you can't just give up!"
"I honestly don't care where my life goes, but I'm not getting another job!"
Pinky glared at him. Why couldn't Brain just cooperate with him and stop acting like such a child? This must be what he felt like when I was the immature one, he mused. "You're acting foolishly stubborn about all this. Just because you were a star once, that doesn't mean the world owes you something! Now get up off the floor and make something of your life!"
"I can do whatever I damn well please, and I sure as hell don't appreciate you telling me what to do! Just because you graduated college doesn't make you smarter than me, Pinky, you're still just a good-for-nothing imbecile, and nothing, not even a college degree will change that about you!" Brain snapped. He reached for a half-empty beer bottle and took a long swig. Pinky gawked at him, letting the words soak in and sting him from the inside. Brain had never just flat out insulted him like that before, and it hurt him more than any physical pain ever could.
Fearing that their quarrel would begin to get violent if Brain was intoxicated, Pinky swatted the bottle out of his hands, and it shattered on the floor, spilling the remainder of the alcohol beneath their feet. This action earned Pinky a deadly glare, which he returned with an indifferent frown as he awaited Brain's less-than-dignified reaction.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea how much that cost? It was my last bottle!" the half-drunken mouse shouted, like a toddler throwing a tantrum over a broken toy.
"Well you bought it with my money, so I don't see a problem."
In Brain's presently irrational mind, that remark was the final straw. For once, the intellectually superior mouse resorted to violence over rationalization, and took a swing at Pinky's head. The latter was able to dodge the sudden attack, and quickly backed away from his enraged roommate in fear of getting hurt. Brain managed to lift one of the empty beer bottles scattered about his feet and chuck it across the room, missing Pinky by a hair as an explosion of broken glass shattered off the wall directly behind him. When Pinky recovered from the initial shock, he felt a stinging pain in one of his cheeks, where a stray chunk of glass had cut into his skin. Ignoring the pain and blood, Pinky, more enraged than he had ever been in his life, attempted to tackle Brain to the floor. His opponent ended up meeting his strength, and the duo struggled to push the other to the wall in a backwards tug of war. Eventually, after another few minutes of shoving, kicking, biting, scratching, and inconclusive fist-fighting, Pinky gained the upper hand when Brain slipped in the puddle of alcohol on the floor. Using this to his advantage, the leaner mouse pinned Brain to the ground, making sure he couldn't move.
"Alright, that's it!" Pinky scolded. "I was willing to sort everything out and fix your life for you, but if you're just going to refuse any help and resort to drinking and violence, it's not worth cleaning up after you anymore!" When he was sure Brain wasn't making any effort to attack him once more, he lifted his hands from his fallen opponent's shoulders and pulled himself up, pointing to the door. "Get out!"
Brain, seeming dumbfounded and speechless for a brief moment, wiped the stream of blood from the side of his mouth and scowled. "You can't kick me out of my own house!"
"I don't see you paying any bills, so as far as I'm concerned the only thing in this house that you own is your own grubby, intoxicated self. Now get out!"
There was nothing left that the shorter mouse could say; he had never seen Pinky so furious in all the time they had known each other. Like a ton of bricks, it suddenly came crashing down on him—he screwed up, big time. Hanging his head and glaring spitefully down at the floor, Brain exited his room and stormed out the front door, taking nothing with him aside from the fur on his back. Pinky watched him as he staggered down the walkway, shouting after him, "And don't you even think about coming back until you've gotten your life straightened out!"
When his old friend was long out of sight, Pinky slammed the door of the empty house behind him with his remaining bits of strength. As he was reminded of the stinging pain in his cheek and the tension of his aching bones and muscles, he couldn't decide which cut was deeper, the one in his flesh, or the one in his heart. He tried to mentally remind himself that he was supposed to be angry, but couldn't help the tears leaking from his eyes as he collapsed to his knees. Pinky had made the most difficult choice he had ever had to make—kicking his own best friend out of his life, possibly forever.
It had been about 10 years since that heart-shattering fight now, and fate proved Pinky's assumption to be wrong; they wouldn't be separated forever, for here they were now, in each other's presence once more. The question was if they could patch things up and really be friends again, which didn't seem likely at the moment, since Brain obviously hadn't turned his life around in any way, or even made an effort to. He was living on a street corner, for crying out loud! The memories of watching his dearest friend gradually fall apart were painful enough for Pinky, but not nearly as disheartening as seeing him like this. He was a shadow of his former self, a forgotten star who had faded from everyone's memories long ago and disconnected himself from the real world.
"It seems like life hasn't been very kind to you since we were apart, has it?" Pinky pointed out in an attempt to make conversation.
"Nothing has been kind to me, Pinky." Brain replied in a monotone voice, cupping his sagging face in his hands. "Not even myself. I'm the one who got myself into this mess, after all."
Whether he was sober, drunk, or somewhere in between, Pinky couldn't tell, but he could tell that his words were sincere. The taller mouse was thankful that Brain seemed to be less temperamental than before, but his lifeless and depressed tone of voice wasn't very comforting either. He sighed and forced himself to sit down beside Brain, close enough to still hear his voice at a whisper, but still keeping a cautious distance. "Look, Brain, I'm…I'm sorry that all of this had to happen, and I'm sorry for forcing you out onto the street. It was a selfish decision, even if you were only a hollow shell of yourself at the time. I—"
"No need to apologize, Pinky. I treated you horribly and you had every right to throw me out on the street." he replied, cutting Pinky off. "I'm a worthless waste of a life form, and I don't deserve any better…"
"That's not true."
Brain pretended like he didn't hear Pinky's protest, and asked, "Why did you come looking for me?"
This was a question that the other mouse couldn't immediately bring himself to answer, since he hadn't quite figured it out himself yet. When Brain's question was met with tense, unsure silence, he spoke up again. "Let me guess, you feel sorry that I'm still living like a bum, and you're giving me another chance to get back on my feet?"
Pinky nodded slowly, deciding that though it didn't cover the entire reason for him being there, it was correct. "Brain, I know I haven't spoken to you for years, but I haven't stopped worrying about your wellbeing for even a second. The only thing I want is for you to be happy again, narf…like you used to be." His eyes shone with concern as he spoke, and one of his old ticks wove its way into his speech again. Even after attending countless speech correction classes in an effort to grow out of his odd little hiccup, he was still unable to subdue little Narfs and Poits every now and then.
"Puh!" Brain snorted. "I've never been happy, not since…not since my dreams were crushed…"
"I'm sorry, but I really can't imagine your acting career taking flight again." Pinky pointed out, trying not to disappoint him further. "But there are other ways to be happy—"
Brain suddenly shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. I…I've had a lot of time to think about happiness, and it wasn't the show or the fame that fueled my contentment back then." He turned his head to face Pinky, and the latter got a glance at his expression for the first time, but it was hard to decipher. His eyes were still void of hope, but more alive, and pleading to him. "Pinky, you're the only thing on this Earth that can make me happy." Brain admitted as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I know I screwed up. I did and said a lot of things that I regret, and you probably resent me for that. You only came to me out of sheer pity for my condition, I know it. Why else would anyone bother with me? But…I never meant for any of this to happen! I was confused, and acting childish by drowning away my problems with more problems. I honestly thought my life was over when that show was cancelled, I thought that was the only thing keeping me going, but in the midst of it all, I failed to realize that it was you that kept me going, day in and day out. You've been there for me through everything, Pinky, you've always cared, you've always put me first, and I took advantage of you. I carelessly threw our entire friendship away without thinking!" By now his words were coming out between bursts of sobs. "I'm sorry for never listening to you, and I'm sorry for losing myself in my own misery! If only I could have appreciated your help and realized what completed my life, maybe we wouldn't be here right now…Pinky, where did it all go?"
Pinky left the question hang and watched his former best friend break down into a fit of tears, helplessly lost at what to do about it. This wasn't like any of the times in the past where he had completely lost it due to drinking and depression, this was different. It was the first time in a long, long while that Brain was showing signs of caring about someone other than himself, and it was painful to watch him mourn over his mistakes and plead for forgiveness. In that instant, Pinky's memory was void of any grudge he had kept against Brain, as he realized that the only thing he needed right now was a friend.
Not hesitating for a second, Pinky scooted forward and wrapped both arms around the mournful mouse in an attempt to comfort him. "Don't cry Brain, please. I forgive you, for everything. I…I was mad before about all this, but in truth, the only reason I came here was because I missed you more than anything. I'd do anything to fix this, if you're willing…" He was suddenly aware that he was crying as well. Brain didn't answer, he only leaned into Pinky's hug, desperately clutching his fur, craving the comfort that he had needed to hear for so long. Neither could remember how long they sat there together on that barren street corner, unaware of life going on around them as they cried for each other and for their broken friendship.
Two days later, things were beginning to look considerably brighter in both of their futures.
After a long talk, the first sober one Brain had had in a while, and many apologies later, both mice finally started to come to an agreement. Pinky was more determined than ever to get his friend's life back on track now that he realized how much he needed him. He sure was foolish for ever believing Brain could fix himself on his own. Thankfully, Pinky had made a lot of connections over the years, and was able to find quite a few decent jobs out there that would eagerly accept Brain. Not only did he find him a way to help support himself, Pinky gladly insisted on Brain moving back in with him, to get him off of the cold, merciless city streets.
Brain accepted both offers, but for some reason that Pinky couldn't quite wrap his head around, his enthusiasm seemed to drop completely when he was given the opportunity to start over. He had been begging for forgiveness, and seemed like he would do absolutely anything to get his life back on track, but something was off about the way he suddenly took it, as if he didn't want to help himself. Pinky shook this odd reaction off as a fear of living in the real world again, and thought of it as nothing. Why would anyone, even Brain refuse something like this, especially when both of them knew it would make him happy once more?
That particular afternoon, after spending two nights back in his old, refurnished room, Brain was slowly starting to seem like his old self, but Pinky could still detect that something was off. It all seemed so faked…maybe it was just too good to seem possible? Despite this, when Brain insisted on leaving for a while, Pinky didn't ask any questions. He found himself trusting his old friend once more, and didn't expect him to blow this whole thing off after two days and go straight back to the liquor store. Besides, he claimed he was only heading back to that old dump once more to get something that he had left there. While he didn't recall Brain taking anything with him there in the first place, Pinky again let his suspicions die, and spent the rest of the day getting Brain's options for a new job straightened out.
It was only when Brain hadn't returned six hours later that Pinky was beginning to let himself worry.
He had been pacing the floor for nearly 20 minutes now, debating what to do about his friend's extended absence, and all the while worrying about what may have happened. The slums of the city weren't exactly the friendliest place in the world, so there was a possibility he could have gotten hurt while allegedly reclaiming some of his belongings, or worse! Confused, agitated, and growing more concerned with his whereabouts by the second, Pinky thrust open the front door and glanced around, hoping that Brain would be returning any second now.
He didn't catch sight of the other mouse from the doorstep. What he did find, however, was a small package sticking out of his mailbox (which had been conveniently reattached to the side of his house almost level with the ground, so that a mouse his size could reach without difficulty). Curious and looking for something to distract him from his worries anyways, he plucked the package out and opened it as he wandered back indoors. It didn't seem very heavy, but obviously wasn't meant for just carrying a letter. However, a letter was the only thing he found inside. Dropping the envelope, Pinky took the letter in both hands and began to read who it was from, but he felt the fur on the back of his neck prick up when he did.
It was addressed to him, from none other than Brain.
Before he had the chance to ask himself why Brain would be sending him a letter in the first place, or what this could possibly mean, he eagerly unfolded it and began to read the neat, cursive handwriting scrawled over the paper.
'My dearest friend Pinky,' it read, 'I'd explain to you why I sent you this letter rather than just coming home and telling you this in person, but my reasoning will become clear to you in a minute. First of all, I'd just like to thank you, for everything. Like I said before, you've always been there for me no matter what, always faithful, always loyal…just a picture perfect friend. I, on the other hand, have rarely been kind to you, and not once have I ever told you flat out how much you really mean to me in all the time I've known you. For that, I feel selfish, like I haven't been holding up my side of the friendship, and these 10 long years in which I've driven us apart from each other prove how conceited and unworthy of your friendship I really am. I'm not sure how to say this without hurting you further than I already have, but I'm breaking my promise to put the pieces of my life back together. As in, I won't have a life to put back together after tonight. I'm ending it all, Pinky, I can't live with this guilt anymore.'
Pinky lifted his head from the page. Even with his improved intelligence, it took him a few moments to realize what Brain was really saying. In an instant, his eyes darted back to the words on the paper.
'If I'm lucky, maybe my name will be in the obituary tomorrow morning, but I doubt it. I'm just a washed up old toon, aren't I? I barely matter to anyone on this planet. Now, I probably know what's running through your mind about now, but don't you dare put down this letter and attempt to go looking for me or stop me from doing it. By the time this gets to you, I'll already be long gone.'
"No…" Pinky barely noticed the word as it escaped from his lips involuntarily, barely a whisper. "Brain…no…"
'Do not fret, my friend, and do not put the blame for this on yourself, by any means. You did your best to help me, and I can never express how grateful I am for that. Thank you so much for trying to save me while you could, but I'm afraid I'm too much of a wreck for anyone to fix. I wish I could have brought myself to be happy once more, but over these past 10 years, and even before that, I've met with so much pain and regret that I knew I'd never be the same again. However, do not mourn me, and do NOT lose yourself over this, Pinky. You have so much potential. Do something great with your life, be successful, and forget the days of 'trying to take over the world' with your desolately broken old friend. However, remember one thing about me, if you must. You're the only reason I kept myself alive for this long, and for that, I've finally come to realize how much you mean to me. I love you, Pinky, and I really hope you have a nice life. Just know that I can be happy in death, with the knowledge that you finally forgive me after everything I put you through.'
By now, the words set in ink swirled and smudged with fresh tears dripping down on the paper from above, but even through his blurred vision, Pinky could make out one last thing inscribed on the letter, just beneath the signature.
'P.S., look at the bottom of the package. It wasn't a complete fib when I told you I was leaving the house to try and find something I left behind on the street.'
Finding that his hands were shaking violently now, Pinky set the letter down and dug around in the package it was delivered in once more. His movements were mechanical and forced, and his mind was overloading with so many thoughts and urges that he couldn't even control his own actions anymore. Every moment seemed to play by in slow motion; the world was fuzzy and unclear through his eyes. Finally, he pulled something out of the package, and found why he hadn't noticed it before. It was nothing but a small, worn out old keychain. It was dirtied and slightly dented, but it was easy to make out what it was, and Pinky recognized the object immediately. It was a keychain of the world.
"Where did it all go?" he had asked…
It was painfully obvious to him now. Everything had been carelessly lost in time over the years, and as their friendship and his sanity had been left to fall into disrepair, the world they had shared together seemed to collapse.
However, in a sense, it hadn't gone anywhere.