Updated 28/02/2023
"Maybe I should have tried to come back into this world sooner, but I don't know. There are still people I care about that don't deserve to be involved with what I'm doing. I might not be much of a human anymore, but I still have family and surely some friends somewhere. Maybe I'll see some of them when I go to other cities and give this whole message again.
"I won't lie, I miss my friends a lot. Knowing that they probably look nothing like their high school selves is a bit weird to me. On top of that, do they still remember me? Did they feel sad when I went missing, and also sad when I was called dead? I don't know, and I guess I don't want to know either. If I somehow was pulled into meeting with one again, and they recognized me, things would turn out bad. I'm sure of that much."
Brian and Derek stepped out of the cruiser and into the Silverline motel's parking lot which was home to three other police cruisers. Pele hopped off of Brian's lap and walked to the sidewalk, waiting patiently.
From where he was, Brian could see there were at least three police officers crowded around the back of the lobby. He thought back to the first time he was in that lobby, looking at Jeremy Orade disdainfully. It had been a drug trade going on for months in the motel that he knew about and did nothing but take bribes. He had realized quickly that this wasn't the same friend he had known in high school.
"You sure you wanna go in there? I mean, I know you two have history with one another and that could interrupt the investigation so-" said Derek before Brian cut him off.
"It won't, I'm aware he was my friend all those years ago but that doesn't change anything. I'm going in there and he's going to answer the questions. We'll bring him into the precinct if we have to," he said, reaching Pele who started following the pair at their pace.
"You're looking a little better than you were back there, Brian."
"I don't know, my throat kinda feels rough and my head's hotter than it should be. I might be taking a sick day."
"A shame. I guess I won't have anyone to toss paper at to wake them up," Derek smirked.
"Well, if you're feeling up to it you could always try and hit Charlie across the room, I've seen his eyes drop a few times."
"Hah, get well soon, man. Try not to sneeze on Jeremy."
"If I do, he had it coming."
Derek pushed open the door. The cops turned their heads at the detectives coming in, allowing Brian to see the disconcerted expression of Jeremy.
Jeremy had seen better days. His hair looked terrible and a faint dry odor irradiated off him. His eyes were bloodshot and glistened from the light in the lobby, had he been crying? Not unexpected, thought Brian, He just found a dead body in his motel.
"What's with the huddle, guys?" asked Derek, he and his partner reaching the front desk with all the officers.
"The body's not in the room anymore. We were waiting for you to show up so you can question him about it," said an officer, earning a glare from Jeremy.
"I'm telling you, it was there when I called you and when I went back to check it was gone! I have no idea where it went!" he shouted exasperated, almost maniacally.
"Look buddy, I know you're a bit on edge since you saw a dead body in your motel, but you need to cooperate," said Brian, looking at his old friend dryly. That seemed to sober Jeremy up, his eyes taking on a more half-lidded, relaxed look. "We're gonna ask you questions and you're going to answer them and if we need to, we'll take you into the precinct."
"Hi, Brian," he replied, very clearly not in the same voice as he had replied to the officer. "I didn't do anything, I swear. You can believe that, right?"
"That will be determined after the investigation has been concluded. You aren't going to get any special treatment just because you used to be my friend in high school." At that moment, Pele laid down beside Brian's feet and fell asleep again which gave Brian a reason to give a slight smile in his situation.
"Could you please describe the individual?" asked Derek, getting right into questions.
Jeremy turned to him. "He was about five foot ten, young, probably twenty or younger. Uhh… he wore a toque and had a parka, a real good one at that… Shit..."
"What is it?"
"When I went to the room after the gunshot and… I saw him…" He shook his head, "I might've been seeing things, but there was a bit of hair poking out from under his toque. It looked like it was white."
Brian's mind was in a frenzy, and while he tried not to let it show on his face, he could feel his eyes go slightly wide at what Jeremy had said. There was no way, it was impossible. He began thinking back to the figure he saw in the streets. The parka wasn't that expensive looking, he thought. His hair wasn't that white,his face wasn't that young. I just tried to put a name on his face because it looked familiar, that's all, no coincidence here. After all, no one goes and kills themself and then walks out in public. That's just ridiculous. Except the body was gone. The lack of confirmation that he held allowed the presumptuous thoughts to roam around in his head, wreaking havoc.
Meanwhile, Derek didn't skip a beat. "Any other distinctive features? As in what did his face look like or did he have any injuries?" he asked.
"Uhhh… Yeah, he looked similar to someone... I can't put a name to it, but I remember him from somewhere," he replied, turning his attention to Derek. This piece of information did not help Brian with his maelstrom of thoughts a bit.
"That's not very helpful, are you sure there wasn't anything else? Even an expression?"
"Wait, hold on… He looked really on edge, like he was being followed or something." Jeremy looked over at Brian, "What the fuck? Are you alright, man?"
Derek turned his head and he immediately gained concern on his face. "Hey, hey, man, what's up? You've gone pale again, are you feeling alright?"
Brian snapped out of the storm of thoughts and a bit of color returned to his face, although he was quite clearly unsettled. "Uhh… uhhh… yeah! Yeah, I'm feeling fine, Derek. No problems here. I just spaced out." He pushed a smile through barred teeth, "Must've been the cold thing, heh. I'm definitely doing that sick day now."
Derek stared at him with worry. "Right. You get yourself home when we get back. Try not to spread that bug around too much."
"Is there… anything else you noticed, Jeremy?" asked Brian, bringing Derek's attention back to the matter at hand.
"No… nothing that I recall."
"Then could you take us through the series of events?"
"Fine, it might take a while," sighed Jeremy, licking his lips.
"We have the time," said Derek, taking a recorder out of his pocket and pressed a button. A red light appeared on top.
"Alright, so I'm just reading a book when the door opens and that guy comes in. I was surprised because this is the slow season because everyone who comes here for their family during the winter always stays in better places than this. He looked real anxious, as though someone might've been following him.
"I ask him 'Whaddya need?' and he says, 'A room'. I told him how it was weird that he's asking for one right in the middle of day, in the middle of the slow season, he tells me 'It's a weird world," Jeremy exhaled. "So, I ask him his name and he says 'Jacob Reynolds' but-"
"You should have said this earlier, Jeremy. Is there anything-" said Brian before Jeremy started speaking again.
"No, you don't get it. He seemed to have wanted to say something earlier, but then stopped and said 'Jacob Reynolds'."
"You're saying that may not be his real name?"
"I don't know, I never asked for ID."
"But you're sure that it wasn't real?" he asked, coming nearer.
Jeremy, seeing Brian get closer, backed his rolling chair up. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't, okay? But I have no idea. Like I said, no ID."
"Are you absolutely certain? Not pretty sure, not maybe. Are. You. Certain?" he said, feeling as though he was about to lose control.
"Brian, what the hell?! I told you three times now. I have no fucking idea if it's real or not!"
Brian backed up, despondent feelings coursing through him. He felt Derek's hand clap him on the shoulder. "You should head on over to the crime scene, your 'cold' is making this really hard, buddy." Brian looked at him in the eye and could practically read his thoughts through them. Just go, I can deal with this, don't worry.
He looked down, seeing Pele stare back up with the same amount of worry that Derek had. The weight of the situation came down on him. He had to get away from any more thoughts of this potentially being Matthew, even though there was no real possibility of it actually being him. He wiggled his foot a bit to get Pele moving and slowly walked to the door, feeling eyes look at him. He looked back and saw his partner, his high school friend, and his colleagues all giving the same expression of surprise and confusion.
"I'll, uhh, see you later," he said, going outside and leaving the door to close behind him.
He had embarrassed himself. He knew emotions needed to be controlled when maintaining the role of authority because when authorities freak out, everyone else follows suit. He had allowed Matthew to cloud his mind and cause him to act erratic. That had to stop. Matthew was gone. He had been gone for more than a decade. He had been pronounced dead six years ago and turned the investigation cold two months later.
He felt Pele nudge against his leg, the little pokemon looking more worried than he had been inside the motel. He let out little whines of concern and kept reaching with a paw up his leg.
Brian sighed, squatting down where Pele quickly started licking his face. And as much as Brian didn't feel in the mood for it, he started chuckling at the tickle it gave him. He scratched the fur of the growlithe and received more licks as a reward. It was nice. He knew it was a distraction for what he felt but it was at least nice. And through all he had just thought about, a distraction was what he needed.
"Hey, hey, that's enough, Pele," he said, slowing his scratching and so the growlithe slowed his tongue. Brian gave Pele a smile, "Thanks for that. What would I ever do without you?"
"Growlithe grow gro lithe!" the pokemon replied, giving a grin. Pele laid down onto the sidewalk and rolled over to his back, exposing his belly. Brian complied, starting to scratch his underside, hearing the happy growls of his friend.
"Well, aren't you just the cutest growlithe that ever lived," said Brian. He scratched for a few more moments before coming back into the situation. "Let's head over there, that's where we're needed."
Pele rolled back over and stared at Brian, not with worry or concern, but with a look that Brian was very familiar with. He snickered and reached into his pocket to pull out another beige star treat which was quickly eaten up by the hungry pokemon.
"You've earned it, Pele," he said softly, scratching behind Pele's ear.
He stood up and started walking to where the scene had occurred. It wasn't hard to identify where, there was yellow police tape outside a room far down on the right and two police officers standing guard. He had nearly reached them when he heard the clacking of claws on concrete from Pele quickly catching back up.
"Hey, gents," he said, grabbing his badge from his coat pocket and showing it to both of them. Their names were Ian and Damon, five years on the force each.
"Hey, Brian. It's really just a lot of blood, nothing interesting," Ian said, stepping aside to allow Brian through the door.
"I got the memo, but I still gotta do my job," he shrugged, Pele sitting beside his leg.
"Where's Derek? Is he in the lobby with that scumbag owner?" asked Damon. Brian disliked how he used that term for his old friend.
"Yeah, he's in the lobby talking to Jeremy. He wanted us to split up because my... uh... cold is making the questioning a little hard."
"Oh shit, I bet you got it from Chris in forensics. Didn't he get it recently?"
"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I'll head in now so let Derek in whenever he gets here."
"Roger that," said Ian, nodding to Damon who stepped aside. Brian took an arching step over the tape while Pele quickly ran under.
The scene was just like Ian had described. On the bed nearest to the door there was a black backpack, opened wide with nothing inside and right beside it was a whole mess of blood trailing down to the hardwood flooring where it was most plentiful. He stepped further inside with Pele close by him. Brian had trained him well to follow his footsteps and not touch anything important to the investigation.
When he got to the space between the two queen beds there was a large amount of blood, its edges hardened to a black solid. He could also make out a few solid pieces in the mess and considered they could potentially be bone.
He saw the gun sitting near the edge of the blood pool, its muzzle coated in red. His eyes moved from the bed to the right, where he could see a little hole in the wall. The bullet had gone straight through his head, it seemed.
"Hey, Pele, over here," he said, pointing to the solidified blood. The growlithe knew the drill as he had done this many times before. Pele sniffed at the blood, grimacing at the foul stench it gave off. Brian was all too familiar with the smell of death; he couldn't exactly detect it with his own nose but it was always at a homicide or suicide or a whatever-icide.
Pele backed off, being careful of where he stepped, and returned back to the side of Brian. "So, is it a human?" he asked Pele, interested in his response. A bark was a yes and no response was a no. So far in his career, Pele had always been right on the money.
There was no response from the growlithe, making Brian interested. "Okay then, is it a pokemon?" There weren't many who could pull off a human disguise except for Zoroark, Ditto, and some psychic pokemon who messed with your mind.
But still no response, and that wasn't a total surprise to Brian. They wouldn't be able to mask themselves as a human after their death, they'd revert to their original form. And even then, why come to this motel? Why not remain in the woods nearby? Why use a gun or a backpack? That left him with one option and it was the one he really disliked. He asked Pele, "Is it a half-breed?"
There were more half-breed suicides than he would have liked to experience. The discrimination, the bullying, the outright abuse they must have gone through to actually consider ending their life, it was awful. And Jeremy said this guy was young, he might have even been in high school. Whoever did this to him deserved to have a special reservation in hell. Although it was unlikely that they'd ever be arrested if it was through the internet, temporary email addresses and throwaway accounts made things all the more difficult so if that was the case-
While lost in thought he realized Pele had yet to respond, which meant it wasn't a half-breed. He looked down and saw him pawing at his shoe, trying to get his attention. "It isn't a half-breed?" he asked, becoming confused. There were always those three options: Human, pokemon and half-breed. What else could it be?
Pele made an odd half-growl with a tilted head, giving off the impression of confusion which Brian shared.
"You don't know?" he asked uneasily.
Pele barked solemnly and then whined while brushing against Brian's legs.
"Hey, I'm not mad, don't worry buddy," he said, squatting down and petting Pele's fur.
"What aren't you mad about?" a familiar voice asked him.
Brian turned around and saw Derek just outside the door, "Hey, partner. Did Jeremy give you the whole story?"
"It seemed like it. What was it with you not being angry with Pele?" He stepped over the tape and walked over. Brian could still see unsureness from earlier on his face.
"That blood on the floor is unidentifiable in Pele's nose. I haven't got the slightest clue why." he went for another round of pets as Pele's head drooped a bit.
"That's very weird, but maybe it's fake blood? That'd be interesting," said Derek.
Brian nodded at this statement, "It makes sense, that would explain why Pele couldn't identify it. But the blood is hardening and turning darker, just like real blood does. Fake blood doesn't do that. Plus, I doubt that smell is fake."
"Okay then it could be a substitute. Grumpig blood is pretty close to the look and consistency of human blood… Wait, no, Pele would have known if it was a pokemon or not. Damn, can you think of anything else? I sure as shit can't."
Brian shook his head, "No, but there seems to be bone fragments in the blood, we might be able to find out what it was from those." He pointed over to a solid piece in the scarlet sea.
"I see. Well, let's take a look over the rest of the room, see if there's anything else." He backed away to let Brian stand back up.
"Alright. Do you know when the evidence collection team's gonna get here?"
"I got a radio call from them while I was walking over here. They said a couple minutes."
Brian nodded, "I was thinking I should probably take off when they get here. They'll have plenty of hands to get this whole thing organized and I'm sure if you need my input, you could text or call."
Derek gave him a small smirk and said, "I get it. Your 'cold' must be pretty tough."
"Yeah, it is… I'm sorry for how I acted back there, it was a real dumbass move for me to lose my nerve like that."
"You're forgiven, and don't worry about it. Let's just do what we can now."
Brian smiled, "Sounds good. You got your camera?"
Derek pulled out a decently sized black camera from his pocket and pulled off the lens protector, "Of course I do."
"Good, take some photos over here. I'm gonna check out this bullet hole," he pointed over to the wall. He walked over, Pele following closely behind to investigate with him. "Did Jeremy mention anything else interesting when he was telling you what happened?"
The click of a captured photo was heard, "He said the guy named Jacob gave him the money for the room, then Jacob stopped him when he handed him the key to room four and asked for room six instead."
"Weird, any idea why?" He took a flashlight from his pocket and shined inside the hole, there was little to be seen aside from the framework and crumbled drywall.
"Nope, but apparently room four is where everyone goes to fuck. At least, according to him."
"I don't even wanna know why he knows that, though it's interesting how Jacob may have known that fact. He could have come here before," Brian said, leaning a little closer to the wall. There could be a chance the bullet was stuck in the framework or had gone through to the other side. He figured Jeremy wouldn't be too jazzed about having to demolish a part of the wall to recover one bullet.
"Then, before Jacob left, he apparently turned around and said 'Thanks, Jeremy' when Jeremy didn't have a name tag. He didn't even give out his name," said Derek, taking another photo.
"Creepy," said Brian shortly, taking his body away from the wall. He couldn't see the bullet so he backed off, the evidence team would probably have better results than him.
"You said it. A few minutes after that, he heard the gunshot and came running. You can probably guess what happened from there."
"Sorry, you said a few minutes?" Brian turned to his partner who was holding the camera up to his eye.
"I thought it was weird too, but it could have been contemplation or something else," Derek stood up, "Could you move out of the way please? I need a picture of the bullet hole."
"Right, my bad." He moved out of the way, looking down at his feet to not accidentally step on Pele. "I'll have to doubt you on that part, people who come to such extents to hide themselves usually have their plan all figured out. They likely wouldn't contemplate."
"So a suicide note, or a video maybe. That backpack must have been pretty empty if it only had a gun in it. A video camera or a journal would take up much more space."
"He could've used his phone for stuff like that. But then again, we don't have the body to confirm it," Brian sighed.
A sound pitched in both of their ears, police sirens not too far away. Derek looked at Brian and said, "You can still stay if you want, I don't want to force you into anything. Your 'cold' has toned down quite a bit since that little hiccup. I'm sure you'd be fine."
Brian was about to agree, but then Matthew made himself known in his mind again. He thought back to the figure on the street. His description was so similar to what Jeremy had said that it couldn't be coincidence. But it had to have been, it couldn't be anything else. It couldn't be Matthew. He didn't even know if Derek would take him seriously or not if he told him. Brian bit his lip, "I need to work through this, Derek. I mean… I don't need you coming down with a cold, do I?"
His partner looked down for a second before coming back up with a grin, "That's true, and I guess you do need to work through this. You can take the cruiser back to the precinct, I'll find a ride with the other guys."
"What are you gonna do? Sit on the roof?" Brian chuckled, trying to bring a little lightheartedness to the conversation.
Thankfully, Derek seemed to take the tone change with open arms. "Well, I was thinking about holding onto the undercarriage, but your idea works too," he gave off a warm smile.
"See you later, man. Don't solve the case without me."
"You got it."
With that, Brian walked past Derek with Pele tailing close behind. He stepped over the tape and walked back over to the cruiser where he opened the passenger side door to let the growlithe inside.
As he got into the driver's seat, he noticed Pele looking at him piercingly. "What's up, buddy?" He then remembered the promise he made back in the precinct. "Right, my bad."
He pulled out another treat and put it in front of the pokemon's face, but Pele didn't bite it, he looked past it. An action which must have taken all his willpower to do. His eyes were locked with Brian's, and it seemed to get the message through to him.
"Look. It's nothing, Pele. I had a few bad thoughts recently and they clouded my head. I'm just taking a day off to clear my head of it, that's all." Pele didn't avert his gaze, and to Brian it seemed like he was strengthening it.
He put the treat down on the seat but Pele still didn't look away.
"I get that you're worried about me but now's really not the time." Pele laid down in the seat, giving him sad eyes. It ate away at his defensive walls and he quickly said, "I'm gonna start driving, you should hold on."
It felt embarrassing, running away from a conversation with his pokemon but he couldn't let anything more to do with Matthew interfere with his police work. If talking to Pele somehow convinced him to stay, he knew he would go back to causing trouble for this investigation. And while he had tried to force the possibility of Matthew out of his mind, it still rested in a corner, waiting to be triggered again.
He started the engine and took one quick glance at Pele, still giving him that expression. Pele was never one to let up easily over anything, whether that be treats or whatever emotion Brian was going through. He put the gear in reverse and drove out of the parking spot, then started to drive back to the precinct.
By the time they got there, Pele still hadn't eaten his treat.
Brian opened his fridge, a rush of air, not nearly as cold as it was outside, swept over him. Alright, Brian. What's your poison for tonight, he thought dimly and scanned the interior of the fridge. There were a few different brands of beer, though he figured some had gone bad considering he saved most of his drinking when he was with Derek in bars.
He didn't like considering himself an alcoholic. It wasn't like he was one of the drunks lying on the side of the road or slouched in a back alley. He could control what he drank, but he did admit that he allowed himself to drink to the point of being tipsy when he got going.
As a young boy, he couldn't have imagined himself as this man named Brian. His parents drank beer and wine, plenty of it, but they never acted drunk. And when he first tasted alcohol at nineteen, he thought it was horrible and was sober for four and a half years before… well, it started tasting good. Then he learned that being drunk didn't always mean you acted drunk, but boy did you feel it.
Go light tonight, don't hate yourself in the morning, he thought. He reached in to pick out a light beer. He closed the fridge, cracked the lid open and brought it to his lips. Bitter, amber liquid spilt into his mouth and down his throat.
He went into the living room, a simple setup with a leather couch, coffee table and a television a fair distance away. Twilight shined through the blinds and bathed the room in a soft glow. Brian sat down on the couch, debated on whether or not to watch any shows, decided against it, and kicked up his feet onto the coffee table.
He took another sip, glancing at his phone for the time, 7:14. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do after his drink. Going to get another one was an item on his list he didn't want to check off. But it's not like there was anything else to do, everything was said and done for the night, at least for him.
A sudden weight appeared on the couch beside him and he turned towards it. Pele was sitting, giving him that look.
"Come on, Pele, quit it already. It's nothing that won't go away with a day of clearing my head," said Brian, adjusting his legs on the table for comfort.
But Pele wouldn't quit it, "Growlithe grow," he growled out.
It did dawn on him that telling Derek about him seeing Matthew would be a one-way ticket to more sick days. And while time off from work always came with open arms, the case he had been assigned to today was rather intriguing and he wanted to pursue it further.
Plus, it was the start of the year, there was no way he was going to waste all his sick days in one go.
But that didn't mean he had to tell Pele either, though that was easier said than done. Derek didn't seem to have a sixth sense that told him with absolute certainty that someone was troubled, and if he did, at least he didn't go after them every which way to find out what it was. The only text he received from him read, 'Hope you're feeling alright,' to which Brian had replied, 'A little better, thanks.'
"You don't need to worry, Pele. I was on edge during that investigation from drinking too much last night, nothing more."
Pele walked closer and pointed his nose at the bottle in Brian's hand then looked at him dubiously.
"It's light, and I might not even get through all of it. I'm still kinda full from dinner."
That was a bold-faced lie. He had heated up some of the takeout he had found in his fridge. It could hardly be considered filling to anyone with an ounce of common sense, though the taste was at the very least palatable.
"Grow lithe," said Pele. He didn't need to translate that to know Pele had just said, "Bullshit."
"Fine, but I'm not going to drink another tonight. Don't want to get hungover for my day off tomorrow. And I think I'll give you a nice big walk around the city at that, how does that sound, bud?"
Pele stared at him indifferently.
Brian sighed, "Can't fool you, can I?"
"Gro," Pele said with a shake of his head.
He took another sip of beer, feeling less and less in the mood for the intoxicating beverage. But then was completely turned off it when Pele went forward and started nuzzling into his chest. The growlithe made himself more comfortable than laid down, turning Brian's lap into a bed. The remaining alcohol in his mouth turned terribly bitter but he resisted spitting it out, instead swallowing it.
Pele gave him one final look up before Brian felt himself crack. "Damn it, Pele… Fine. Get up for a second, I need to go get something," he said, moving his legs slightly so Pele could get off. Pele obeyed and Brian put the bottle onto the coffee table.
He walked off to his bedroom and looked under his queen-size bed. A messy trove was set in front of him; unread books, boxes with so many miscellaneous items that he couldn't name half the shit that he pulled out of them, and the occasional sock that always seemed lost. There was one thing specifically he was looking for in this dumpster of memories, which was the only item he knew exactly where to find.
Under a box with a bunch of books he should probably give to goodwill, there was another box with books but these ones he cared about. They were his high school yearbooks. His mother had gotten one each year although he never truly gave them much thought in his adolescence. Now it was different.
He brought it out from under the bed and picked out the one he needed. Goldenrod High School, 2004-2005. Every one of the books had a black cover with a golden swellow spreading its wings in glory. While the others still held this image to a fair standard, the one he pulled had seen its use with the gold starting to peel and fade away.
Book under his arm, he walked back to the living room with a light grimace. How could he have let Pele win that one? It wasn't like nothing would stop him from finding out, Pele might have even given up after a few days. He thought about returning the book to its spot but kept walking, getting it off his chest was the healthy thing to do, right? Wasn't that what he always heard? Tell someone and you'll be better off? If there was any time to believe in it, it might as well be now.
Pele was lying on the couch in the spot Brian used to be sitting in. His ears perked at Brian's approaching and moved over to the left. Brian sat down where he was before and looked over at his little friend who was giving a hopeful look. He reached over and scratched the top of his head.
"Alright, Pele, you can't tell any of this to Derek. I mean, if you had a way to but you shouldn't anyway," he said. Pele nodded, looking at the book that Brian was holding. "It's old, I know. But you wanted to know what was bugging me so here it is."
It had been a while since he had dived into the book. There was one picture he was looking for, and he knew it had to have been at the start of the year somewhere. He flipped through the pages, each one stylized like a scrapbook with numerous images of students and teachers. The quality of cameras had definitely improved over the years, each photo carried with it its share of fuzz and discoloration.
There it is, he thought. The page numbers were fifty four and fifty five, depicting the senior soccer team in action. While mostly candid, there were a few photos that the players had posed for.
"See this, Pele?" he said, pointing to a photo on the left side of page fifty-four. There were two figures prominent, both wearing black and gold jerseys. They had their arms around each other's shoulders in good friendship, also shown in the big smiles they both had. The one on the left had dirty blond hair, the other had dark brown hair and held two fingers behind the blond hair's head, giving him bunny ears.
Pele looked at the photo for a moment. He pointed his nose at the one with dark brown hair then pointed up at Brian's face.
He smiled, "Yeah, that's me. Back when I couldn't grow a beard for shit and actually cared about what I put into my body." He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully and took a look down to his gut. It wasn't big or anything, but he knew there was more flab than ab down there. "Things change too much sometimes."
Pele pointed to the one next to the young Brian, the one with dirty blonde hair. This time when he looked back up at him, it was with a sadder look, as though he had figured out exactly what was going on. Brian was sometimes amazed at the pokemon's deductive skills, perhaps picked up from the time working together.
"And that…" he paused, feeling a lump appear in his throat. He acknowledged it as such and pressed forward. "...That is Matthew, my best friend. He used to be, at least."
Pele leaned forward and pressed his head against the side of his chest, nuzzling in to try and comfort Brian. He responded in kind, putting the book to the side of him and picking up Pele to place in his lap.
"It was a long time ago, we actually had just finished hanging out at my house and he was walking home… And I didn't see him anymore after that," he said in a lower voice. "It seemed the police were useless in the case. Seemingly every morning there was a new bit of evidence found and my hopes grew, and yet they still never found him." He felt Pele nudging against his chest and saw the worry in his eyes. "I thought it was so unfair, so fucking unfair that I lost my best friend and the police were so incompetent to find him.
"So, I worked hard at school, dropped the soccer team, and joined that Code Blue thing that trains you like a police officer. Post-secondary was tough as nails, but I managed to graduate with a bachelor's in criminology." He looked down, seeing that he had been subconsciously petting Pele. "I got into the force, managed to be promoted to detective and started to work on the case, which had been abandoned. You can imagine how that made me feel."
He paused, recalling his first few days as a detective and the amount of emotional whiplash he experienced. Pele's nose pushed against his hand and Brian gave a few scratches underneath his chin. "Every piece of evidence they got led to a dead end, they weren't any closer than they were so long ago." He sighed, putting his arms fully around Pele and pulled him close. "I worked on it anyway. For nearly a year I had so many sleepless nights and actually found a few leads through them but..." He stopped and thought briefly that he might not finish without crying.
Pele licked his face. "Growlithe… Grow gro lithe," he growled softly.
That gave him the courage to keep going, "Soon, the leads stopped coming. I dug so hard to try and find anything but there was nothing. After a few months, he was officially pronounced dead and then the investigation went cold."
Pele began squirming in his embrace and he looked down to see little bits of wet fur below him. He raised a hand to his eye and found out why, he had started crying anyway. "Sorry, Pele," he said, petting where the wet fur was.
A pair of eyes stared up and the growlithe gave a small happy bark to try and help Brian. The only thing that he managed to get was a small simper but even that seemed on the edge of turning into a frown.
"He was my best friend… he disappeared… and today..." His voice trailed off and he saw Matthew's face again. "Today I thought I saw him."
He didn't know the reaction Pele would give, he wasn't even sure if he wanted a reaction at all, he had never told anyone this before. Brian stopped his pets and brought Pele out of the hug. "Growl… Growlithe…"
"I'm okay, Pele… Just... Heh, imagine that. Imagine Matthew actually being there today, that's a pipe dream and a half," he said, giving a forced smile. Pele leaned in and gave him a lick on the face, allowing the forced smile to turn into a real one.
"Lithe growl! Growlithe!"
"Yeah, I'm fine… It's been a while since I had thought about it so much." He looked over at the beer bottle longingly, the appeal had definitely returned though it seemed Pele had caught his glance. He nuzzled up to him before his arm had even motioned towards the bottle and completely turned him off it again.
"You are really on me about my drinking tonight, buddy." He looked at the bottle one last time and then hugged Pele to his body. He stood up and started walking to his room. It was pretty early for him to hit the sack, but he knew he wanted to go to sleep before the urge to drink caught up with him.
He entered his room and tried his best to avoid the mess he had made while finding the yearbook. He could put the book back in the morning, no worries there. Pele pushed himself out of his arms and landed on the bed. He circled the spot he liked a few times and flopped down.
Brian grinned and went around the side to get into bed. He slid in as far as he could before he bumped into Pele's weight. There was hardly enough time for him to think about taking off his clothes before he fell asleep.
As he closed his eyes he saw Matthew's face once again, this time faded. He ignored it, and while it pained him that he knew this, Matthew was gone and that was final. Nothing could change that.
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Peace!
-Minusbomb