Bryan sat quietly on the park bench, his eyes fixed on his mother and younger sister as they played in the soft, late afternoon light. His mom's laughter was light, carefree, and it almost felt like a memory he had forgotten, one that seemed too distant for him to grasp. She was pushing his sister on a swing, her face glowing with happiness, a stark contrast to the woman he remembered—tired, worn down, weighed down by years of his father's abuse.

His father stood off to the side, watching the scene with a strange distance. Gone was the fury, the drunken slurs, the hands that had hit him too many times. This version of his dad was quieter, more subdued, and even kind in a way. Bryan's stomach twisted in response.

He remembered the times when his father had been angry, when his words were like daggers, when Bryan had been forced to face a side of him that was violent and unpredictable. It had never made sense to him. His father was bigger, stronger, and yet he would lash out at him—his son, who was just trying to figure out his own way in the world.

Now, to see him like this, with no anger, no bitter resentment, just a hollow calmness, it felt like an insult.

Why? Bryan thought, his chest tightening. Why had his father waited until everything was too late? He had been so consumed with anger and alcohol that he had never seen the boy standing before him, yearning for a different kind of father. The thought that this version of his dad could have existed softer, gentler—was infuriating. Why had he waited so long to change?

Bryan had left, fled from that house, convinced that the only way to survive was to break free from that toxic place. He'd grown up too fast, seen too much. But now, with his father standing there, seemingly a different person, Bryan couldn't shake the feeling that this change had come too late for him to accept.

His sister's giggles drifted through the air, her innocent joy only reminding him of what he had missed. She looked so much like his mother, so full of life, and for a moment, Bryan couldn't help but wonder how things could have been if he had stayed. If he'd had a sibling to talk to when things were at their worst, someone to stand beside him through the chaos.

But then, the bitterness returned. The resentment that had lived inside him for so many years, quietly festering. His father had never made an effort when it mattered. He had waited until it was too late, waited until he had already decided way past that the house is not worth to hold on to.

Bryan's fists tightened at his sides. He wasn't sure if it was anger or disappointment. Maybe both. He couldn't sit there any longer, watching this new version of his father, knowing that the change had come too late. That his pain, his past, had been too big for a simple apology or a sudden shift in behavior to erase.

Without a word, Bryan stood, the urge to leave so overwhelming that he didn't even look back at his family. He didn't want to be part of this scene, this life that had moved on without him. He needed space to breathe, to process what had just become even more complicated.

The questions that had haunted him Why? Why did you change too late? Why didn't you see me? flooded his mind once more, unanswered.

Bryan was huddled in the corner of the small, dimly lit kitchen, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. The heat from the stove was oppressive, the air thick with tension. His father's voice thundered, loud and sharp, cutting through the room with anger that Bryan had learned to fear.

"I'm doing the best I can, arceusdammit!" his father shouted, the words slurring, heavy with alcohol. His hands, rough and shaking, gripped the edge of the counter. He staggered forward, his breath reeking of whiskey.

"Best you can?!" his mother's voice cracked, high-pitched and frantic. She was standing by the sink, her face flushed, her eyes wide with fear and frustration. "You can't even keep a job because you're always drunk! You're a damn liability, Barry! This family is falling apart because of you!"

Bryan's heart pounded in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the words, trying to block out the rising chaos. But it was always like this—loud, unforgiving, suffocating. Every night, the same arguments, the same broken promises, the same feeling of being trapped inside a house that was slowly suffocating him.

"Don't blame me for your failures!" his father spat, his face red, veins bulging on his neck. "You think you can just throw me out when things get tough? You're the problem, Marlene, always blaming me!"

Bryan flinched as his father's voice grew louder, more threatening. His mother didn't flinch. She stood her ground, but Bryan could see the cracks. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with something he didn't understand. Fear, maybe, or just sheer exhaustion from years of the same fight. Years of the same hopelessness.

"Blame you?" His mother's voice shook, her face streaked with tears. "I'm trying to hold this family together while you drink away everything we have! You've ruined everything, Barry! We're sinking, and I can't keep floating us anymore!"

The words hit Bryan like a slap. His mother's voice was breaking, and he could hear the quiet sobs she was trying to stifle. Her shoulders shook, and Bryan's chest tightened with the unbearable feeling that this was his fault. He was the one they were fighting over.

What did I do? he wondered. He didn't understand it, not really, but he knew, deep down, that somehow it was his fault. He was always trying to be quiet, to stay out of the way, to not make them angry. But it never worked. Nothing ever worked.

Suddenly, a crash broke the air, followed by the sound of his father's boots pounding on the floor as he lunged toward her. Bryan's eyes shot open as he saw his father grab her by the arm, jerking her back toward him, shouting about how it was her fault.

"No, please!" Bryan cried out, but the words felt useless. His voice got lost in the hurricane of shouting and glass shattering on the floor.

His mother's eyes locked with his for a moment—desperate, wide-eyed, but empty. She didn't say anything, but Bryan could see it. She was fighting, but she wasn't winning.

And in that moment, he felt something inside him snap. He had to get out. He didn't want to be here anymore. He couldn't be the reason they were like this. He needed to escape.

With a final look at his mother, Bryan turned and ran from the kitchen, past the chaos and the yelling, and into the darkness of the house. Maybe if I leave, it'll stop, he thought. Maybe if I go, everything will just… stop.

Bryan stumbled into the forest, his legs heavy, his heart heavier. He didn't look back at the house. He didn't want to hear the yelling anymore, the screaming, the shattering of things he couldn't put back together. His parents—his father, so full of rage, and his mother, so broken—were lost in their own world of destruction. But he couldn't stay there. Not anymore.

He reached the familiar clearing, the old oak tree towering before him, its twisted branches stretching into the sky like silent witnesses. The air was thick with memories of his and Sabrina's laughter, of innocent days spent hidden away from the world, the place they had made their secret. The place where, for a short while, everything had made sense.

He collapsed against the trunk, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He couldn't cry. Not now. He wasn't going to let them see that. He couldn't let anyone see him break like this again. It wasn't the first time he'd run away, but this time it felt different. This time, he couldn't find a way back.

As he sat there, staring at the ground, trying to keep his thoughts together, he heard the soft crunch of leaves. He looked up, surprised to find Sabrina standing there, her figure framed by the moonlight, a sadness in her eyes that matched his own.

She didn't say anything at first, just looked at him. Her expression was quiet, understanding, like she knew exactly what he was feeling without him saying a word. But after a long moment, she spoke softly.

"What happened, Bryan?" Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she wasn't sure how to ask but knew she had to. "Your mom and dad…?"

Bryan's throat tightened. The words came out in a rush, like he had been holding them back for far too long. "They were fighting again. Dad... I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been drinking again, and mom, she... she just couldn't take it anymore. They're always fighting. And when I couldn't stay out of the way, he always starts yelling at me. It was like nothing I did mattered. It always happens like this. They're not happy, Sabrina... they never were."

Sabrina nodded slowly, her gaze softening. She sat down beside him under the tree, her expression one of sympathy, but also of something else, something he couldn't quite place. He could see the way she ached for him, but it wasn't just for him. She was hurting too.

"What about you?" Bryan asked, his voice quieter, though he didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation. He was just curious, just wanting to know if she was okay, if she was still able to find her own peace.

Sabrina took a slow, deep breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as she answered. "My mom and dad… They said I wasn't focused on my meditation. They said I was 'losing control.' And so they locked me in my room again. Like always. It's like my own house is a poke ball." Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly wiped away the stray tear that threatened to fall.

She glanced at him, eyes full of the same confusion he felt. "They don't understand me. They never have. And now it's like I can't even be myself anymore without them thinking something's wrong."

Bryan could hear the hurt in her voice, feel the ache in her words. He felt the weight of her pain like it was his own. They both had their own battles, their own struggles that no one else understood. And yet, here they were, together again—two lost children seeking companionship beneath the same old oak tree.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. They didn't need to. Words couldn't fix what was broken. But for the first time in a long time, Bryan didn't feel alone. Neither did Sabrina.

Sabrina suddenly shifted, her eyes glimmering with a hint of mischief. Without warning, her psychic powers flared, and from the nearby bushes, a yellow bicycle slowly floated into the clearing. It hovered gently in the air, its wheels spinning slightly before it landed softly in front of Bryan.

Bryan blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. He stared at the bicycle for a long moment, unsure if what he was seeing was real. It was a brand new bike, the kind that had a simple, cheerful feel to it—bright yellow with a little basket in the front, just like the one he had wanted when he was younger. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He hadn't expected this.

Sabrina giggled sheepishly, her gaze a little awkward but determined. "Happy 10th birthday, Bryan," she said softly, her voice a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

Bryan's eyes softened, and for a moment, he forgot about everything—the shouting, the pain, the anger. He stared at Sabrina, her bright, hopeful expression a sharp contrast to the sadness they'd both shared just moments before.

"How did you...?" he started, still taken aback, but she just shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was the first thing that felt right in a long time.

Sabrina's gaze softened as she looked at him, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. She bit her lip before speaking again. "I've been collecting coins from the ground for weeks," she admitted, a little sheepish. "I wanted to get you something... something for your birthday. I knew it wasn't today, but I thought..." She trailed off, her eyes darting down at the ground, her fingers nervously twisting together.

Bryan didn't say anything right away, but the way she spoke, the effort she'd put into it—it hit him harder than he expected. She had been saving up, making the effort, even though she knew his birthday was still a week away. Sabrina's soft smile wavered as she looked at him. "I'm sorry… I know today isn't your birthday, but... I won't be able to see you next week. My parents are making me go talk to a Psychic Master, and I won't be able to meet you at the oak tree. So I... I thought I could give you this now."

Bryan couldn't hold it in anymore. His chest tightened, and before he knew it, tears welled in his eyes. Without thinking, he threw his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, his breath shaky as he sniffled.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. Sabrina froze for a moment but then gently wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. It was a small, yet at the same time, big moment and it meant the world to both of them.

Bryan pulled back from the hug, his eyes still a bit wet but his heart feeling lighter. Sabrina was always there, and somehow, in this moment, it felt like everything would be okay. He brushed his face with the back of his hand, trying to hide his emotions as he looked down at her, standing close. Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel calm when he was with her.

He patted her head gently, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he said, "Best friends forever, right?"

Sabrina looked up at him, her face brightening a little as she nodded, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "Promise?"

Bryan chuckled softly, "I promise." His voice was steady and resolute. No one could ever break this promise. It was their secret, their bond—something no one could take from them.

He stood up, his gaze shifting toward the oak tree that had been their place of solace for so long. He felt the pull of something inside him, an urge to leave behind a part of himself. Something that would always remind them of this moment, of their friendship, even if life carried them in different directions.

Bryan glanced at the ground, picking up a sturdy stick and breaking it in half with a sharp snap. He began sharpening one end, focusing on the task as Sabrina watched curiously.

"What are you doing?" she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued.

Bryan didn't answer right away, too focused on sharpening the stick until it formed a fine point. He glanced over at Sabrina, noticing her confused expression. "You'll see in a second."

Finally, with the stick sharp enough, he stood and walked toward the oak tree, his hands steady as he dug the point into the bark. Slowly, he started carving a heart into the trunk, the sharp end of the stick making deep, purposeful cuts.

Sabrina stepped closer, her eyes widening as she watched Bryan carefully carve. "You're... carving a heart?" she asked softly, her voice a little unsure.

Bryan nodded, his concentration unwavering. "Yeah. I'm carving something for us. Something that'll stay here forever."

He finished the outline of the heart, and then paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Sabrina, who was standing beside him, her eyes shining with something between wonder and curiosity. He glanced at the heart, still not complete, and a strange feeling crept up inside him. He had thought about carving his name—just his. But somehow, it didn't feel right.

He hesitated, holding the stick just above the carving. "I was gonna carve my name in here... But..." he trailed off, unsure how to explain it.

Sabrina, sensing his hesitation, stepped forward. "Let me do it," she said suddenly. She reached for the stick, her fingers brushing against his as she took it from his hand. "I'll carve your name. You carve mine. It'll be special if we do it together."

Bryan looked at her, a little surprised, but then something warm stirred inside him. It was a perfect idea. He smiled and nodded, stepping aside.

"Alright. But I'll carve yours first, okay?"

Sabrina grinned, taking the stick in her hand and leaning toward the heart. She carefully carved his name next to hers. "You better carve mine good," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I will," Bryan replied, his voice serious but filled with affection. "It's gotta be perfect."

As she worked on his name, Bryan watched her, his thoughts quiet for a moment. He could feel the weight of everything that had happened—the fights at home, the pressure from his father—but here, with Sabrina, everything seemed simple. She was his best friend. Nothing could change that.

Once Sabrina was done, she handed the stick back to him, her eyes meeting his. He took a deep breath, focusing as he began to carve her name into the tree, just below his. Each cut felt deliberate, each line a promise. This was theirs. No one could take it from them.

When he finished, the two of them stepped back and looked at the tree together. The heart, with their names inside it, felt like a permanent bond. A reminder that no matter what happened, they would always have this spot.

"Best friends forever," Bryan whispered again, the words now not just a promise, but a truth he held close.

Sabrina smiled softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah, best friends forever," she echoed, her voice full of warmth, a promise of her own.

They stood there for a moment longer, side by side, looking at their carving on the oak tree, an understanding passing between them. It felt like the world outside the tree couldn't touch them.

Bryan walked down the familiar path, his steps slow and deliberate, as if the forest itself had a way of pulling him back in time. The trail, worn by countless memories, led him to the oak tree, a place that had been more than just a sanctuary—it had been a haven for him and Sabrina. He hadn't returned since he had left, but every single turn in the forest felt like a part of him had never left this place behind. The air, thick with the scent of pine and earth, brought with it the echoes of his childhood—of laughter, the many moments of playing and talking under the shade of that great oak.

The trees around him seemed unchanged, standing tall like silent witnesses to the years that had passed. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting patterns of shadows on the ground, just as it had back then. It was like walking in a memory—every sight, every sound, every smell was exactly as it had been when they both met from when they were six, seven, eight nine and the last year at ten. The forest felt timeless.

As he walked, Bryan noticed the familiar shapes of Pokémon peeking out from behind trees and branches. A bright green Caterpie crawled along a branch above his head, its body still as vibrant as it had been all those years ago. He smiled faintly, remembering how he and Sabrina had once competed to spot the most Caterpies along the trail. They used to joke that if they found a rare one, it would be a sign of good luck.

Nearby, a Beautifly fluttered lazily from flower to flower, its delicate wings glinting in the dappled sunlight. It moved with an effortless grace, reminding Bryan of the carefree days he had spent here, running after Pokémon and laughing with Sabrina. The sight of the Pokémon brought with it an unexpected sense of peace, a soft warmth in his chest. This was how it had always been: beautiful, unhurried, and safe.

Further down the path, Bryan noticed the unmistakable shape of a Butterfree drifting through the air, its wings a pale blue in the sunlight. He'd seen these Pokémon many times before, always hovering above the grass, always just out of reach, as though teasing him and Sabrina to try and catch them. Those carefree moments, running through the grass, feeling like anything was possible—Bryan couldn't help but long for them again. He could almost hear Sabrina's voice, challenging him to catch the next Pokémon that crossed their path, laughing when he inevitably failed.

The path continued, and Bryan's gaze was drawn to the underbrush, where a small Rattata darted across the trail, its quick movements making it hard to follow. It scampered into the tall grass, vanishing in an instant. It was the same as it had always been. Rattatas were quick, persistent little creatures, always zipping through the undergrowth, always looking for their next snack or challenge. Bryan couldn't help but smile. The sight of the Rattata made him feel like he was still a child again, running through these same woods with Sabrina, the two of them laughing and chasing after Pokémon, even when they weren't able to catch them.

The deeper he walked into the forest, the more he felt the weight of those memories pressing down on him. This place, this forest, had been so much to him and Sabrina—a place of escape, of wonder, and of joy. It had been their secret world, their bridge to Terabithia, their space away from everything that hurt. No matter how many years had passed, no matter what had happened since then, the forest remained unchanged. It was as if time had held this place in a gentle bubble, preserving the innocence and purity of their childhood.

As Bryan reached the clearing, he could see the familiar sight of the oak tree ahead. It stood tall, as majestic as ever, its branches stretching out like arms that had always been there to welcome him. The same heart, the one they had carved together years ago, was still visible on its trunk, their names close together. The memories of Sabrina, the moments they spent together, and of the promise they made flooded his mind all at once.

The forest was as he remembered it—alive with Pokémon, alive with memories, alive with the feelings he had once shared with Sabrina.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and Bryan's head whipped to the left. Sabrina stood there, frozen, her eyes wide with shock. She stared at him as if he were a mirage, her breath quick and uneven, the disbelief plain on her face.

She took a slow, tentative step forward, eyes darting between him and the net in his hand. Her gaze shifted, scanning the clearing, and then rested back on him—this stranger, this 'Sunset Champion' a champion in the Sinnoh Region suddenly turned up in Saffron and somehow knew about the hidden trail and the oak tree, who looked her age, with the same black hair and brown eyes as her long-lost friend.

He held her stare, barely breathing. She searched his face, her expression clouding with confusion and something deeper—recognition, maybe. And the way he looked back, steady, unwavering, seemed to add to her questions. He watched her carefully, aware of her unique abilities, knowing she'd try to reach into his mind. He braced himself, and sure enough, he felt the subtle push, her psychic energy brushing against him, seeking the truth.

But just as easily as ever, he blocked her. No one had ever been able to do that. Except him.

She faltered, blinking, her lips parted as she took another step closer. The disbelief in her eyes shifted to something sharper, something closer to fear or wonder, as if she didn't want to believe what her mind was telling her. Yet here he stood, a wall she couldn't read, a mystery she'd thought was buried long ago.

He tightened his grip on the net, unable to speak, while her gaze burned into him, questions and memories swirling unspoken between them. And he knew, in that instant, there was no hiding.

Hey guys, please leave a review. I would really love to hear your thoughts on this story and it really motivates me to continue on knowing that a community, however small it is takes time to put their thoughts on it :) I will be very grateful. Please :)