Ink was waiting for me to talk, the dark blue pen fiddled around in his hands.
"He never came back from the city, nobody saw him after that. So in the end we went to the police station together to report it, it was a day after he didn't come home. So I guess like, seven months ago?"
"Just the two of you guys? Did his family not realize he was gone?" He framed the question in a way like he knew what the answer would be, he flipped a page.
The two of us stood still at the top of the stairs. People flooded in and out of the two double doors that stood in front of them, having no time to close with the rush of people entering and leaving. The squeaks of the doors were reminiscent of nails against a chalkboard, it brought me back to the memory I wished to leave.
"They did." My lips curved up with a flinch. "That's why Arlo was there."
The door was only wood and metal, but it felt like a wall. Neither of us took the first step, as if crossing it would change everything we once knew.
Bells rung; commemorating the long journey from start to end.
The chorus of horns rose in the distance, men lurched low while gripping the wheel, gripping the wheel hard as though strangling their own frustrations. Engines growled and horns honked in protest.
That putrid stench of warmth warped the insides of my stomach, it felt as though it would burn my insides with every breath taken.
"Do you remember his report number, or did you sign anything back then?" Ink cleared his throat, bringing me back.
"No, I don't think so."
"So, the kid. What did he do?" Coffee lifted his back off the chair, sitting up a little straighter. "He was the one who filled out everything…then what?"
I nodded, Ink wrote like he always did.
My wary mind always seemed to straighten out a little better when I stayed in the world I called memories.
The forms were cleanly placed in front of us, as bare as the words spoken at us; empty and devoid of meaning, it was simply procedure.
The smell of ink from the pen Arlo wrote with reeked with hope. When Ink-man wrote in his notebook I could feel the same sensation, somewhat closer to the truth that a little part of me wanted to get to.
The room was changing it before I wanted it to.
"Who took the papers after Arlo filled it out?" Coffee spoke, I couldn't tell what he was getting at though. "Like the one behind the desk."
"What?"
"Anything. Whatever you noticed."
It was all a blurry, moving image that I looked at like it was clear as day, but static would never leave me alone.
"I mean, I didn't really look. He just took the papers."
"Nothing?"
Ink squinted his eyes at Coffee, his pen stopped dancing around in his notebook, paused mid-air with his hand slowly flailing down.
"He was tall? I guess." I muttered. "Wore a black shirt or something."
Coffee had a weird look on his face, he ignored Ink and nodded for me to go on. He seemed a little excited for some reason.
"He had brown hair, it was gelled up to the back, he stunk of it. Well, that and smoke, not the cheap kind, but the one with a tangy scent…Yea, and the collar of his shirt wasn't buttoned all the way up too, it was also fraying by the cuff, like he'd tugged at it too hard."
"What did you make of him?" His eyes were showing a hidden smile. This guy was weird.
"I don't know, he was tapping his pen quickly, he seemed new. He also had a ring on his right pinky, it was silver. He also seemed like he didn't wanna be there, but I guess everybody feels like that."
"You can see all that but can't point out faces," He leaned in, his grin fully unmasked like a child winning a bet. "Of course not, but everything else is spot on."
He turned over to Ink, talking in a tone so irregular from before. "See, Pierce. This is why Kuroda kept dragging her everywhere."
I put my hand in the air to say something, I figured it wasn't worth mentioning though.
It also felt weird for Ink to have a name, I didn't like it.
"Anyways," Ink cleared his throat once more, his voice filling the room. "Back to the topic from before…"
"I'm just gonna tell this to you straight, Aspres." The glint in Ink's eyes was bright, I realized his eyes were not pure black, but actually brown. The sun was setting outside. "At this rate, Arlo is going to get himself caught one way or another, and God knows how or by who."
That tore me out from one reality to another. I laughed at that, not out loud, but a breath choked out of my throat.
He continued on.
"Arlo and you used to…work on the same side, let's just say that. You were doing it all for him, or, let me rephrase that. You wanted things to return back to normal, so you followed what he started thinking that you could at least steer him in the right path?"
He didn't say it cruelly, not at all. It was purely a statement at heart, but I think that's why it hurt.
I was a fool, not for doing it. That too, but I was a fool for the fact I thought I could change something.
"Let's put an end to this." His words were soft, without saying the word, the suffix of a please was imposed. "With your help, we can find him."