"Man... that kid." I hadn't even talked to him, but something about it made me sad.
"You know that kid?" Victor asked, noticing my change in expression.
"Well... kinda," I muttered.
That night, I lay in bed, but sleep wouldn't come. That kid's face kept flashing in my mind, refusing to let go.
I sat up. Checked my phone. 3:00 AM. Fuck it.
"Vick, wake up." I shook his shoulder. "Vick—"
"What the hell, Pete?" Victor groaned, his voice thick with sleep.
"Do you know anything else about the kid who went missing today?"
"Dude, it's three in the morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped. "Let me sleep."
He rolled over, and within seconds, his breathing steadied. Meanwhile, I sat there, restless. I barely knew the kid—hell, I didn't even know his name until tonight. So why the hell was I obsessing over him? I didn't want to get involved, yet something inside me refused to let it go.
By morning, I hadn't slept a second.
Victor woke up to the smell of coffee. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Looks like someone had a long night."
"You slept just fine, didn't you?" I muttered.
He eyed me suspiciously. "Pete... what's the deal with this kid? You friends with him or something?"
"No. Never even talked to him. But something's off. I don't know what it is, but I can't shake it."
Victor sighed, then leaned against the counter. "We could meet the kid's mom if you want."
"Yeah. Let me email Eugene about my leave first."
I shot a quick email, got dressed, and we headed out.
---
When we arrived, the kid's house looked quiet, but the second I knocked, the door swung open. A woman stood there, eyes red and puffy from crying. She had been expecting someone—probably the police.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"I'm Peter," I said. "I... uh, I see your kid every day. Kinda friends with him. I heard what happened and just wanted to check on you."
Her lip quivered, but she nodded and stepped aside. "Come in."
We entered the small living room. She sat down but barely looked at us.
"The police said they'd find Kevin before the night ended," she whispered. "But there's still no update."
She broke into tears. I hesitated, then said, "Ma'am, don't worry. It's not that hard to find a kid in the city. Maybe a day or two, and he'll be right in front of you."
She just shook her head, wiping her tears.
"Is there anything we can do?" I asked.
"No… I don't need anything right now."
I hesitated, then said, "Could I see a picture of him?"
Victor suddenly pinched my thigh and leaned in. "What the fuck are you up to, Pete?" he whispered.
She didn't notice. "I'll get one," she said and walked off to another room.
As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Victor. "Vick, I don't know what I'm gonna do. But I gotta try to find this kid."
Victor's face darkened. "Do you even hear yourself? You barely know this kid, and now you wanna play hero?"
"Vick, keep your voice down," I hissed.
She returned, handing me a small photo. "Here."
I took it. A smiling boy. Red T-shirt. A warm feeling spread through my chest—something about his face felt… familiar.
"Uh, okay, ma'am. We'll leave now. I'm sure Kevin is okay, and he'll be back soon."
I turned toward the car when I felt a hand wrap around mine.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I looked at her, then placed my other hand over hers. "Yes, ma'am. Don't worry. He'll be fine."
Victor was already inside the car, scowling.
The second I started driving, I glanced at him. "You still mad at me?"
He exhaled sharply. "I'm not mad. Just don't drag me into this. It's none of my business. I don't even know the kid."
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll drop you off at the apartment."
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"The police station. I want to meet the in-charge of the case."
Victor scoffed. "Huh. Whatever."
---
At the station, I approached the first officer I saw.
"Uh, excuse me, sir? Can I meet the in-charge of the missing kid's case?"
The officer squinted. "Who are you?"
"I'm Peter Frankinson."
"No, idiot. I meant who are you to the missing kid?"
"A friend," I said quickly.
His expression twisted. "Bullshit. You friends with the kid that went missing 63 years ago? You barely look 26, dumbass."
My stomach twisted. "No—I mean the kid that went missing yesterday."
The officer blinked. "Oh… my bad. Chief's in there. Go in."
I stepped into the chief's office.
"May I come in, sir?"
"Come in," a gruff voice replied. British accent. Fuck, I always struggled to understand Brits.
"What do you want, kid?"
"I—uh—I'm a friend of the missing kid, and—"
He cut me off. "For fuck's sake. We're trying to find him, alright? This ain't a small town. Takes time."
"I understand, sir, but I was hoping for any updates—"
"Look, my brain's already fucked dealing with the old man's case and this missing kid. And now, that old son of a bitch died this morning."
I froze. "He died?"
"Yeah. Heart attack. Doctor confirmed it. Now, fuck off, will ya?"
I swallowed, nodded, and left.
---
Sitting in my car, parked on a road lined with thick forest, I pulled out the kid's photo.
He was smiling. Something about that smile made my chest feel tight. I didn't know my connection to him, but I felt it.
Raindrops splattered against the windshield. I rolled up the windows and was about to put the photo back when I noticed something.
A small mark on his right collarbone.
I squinted. His red T-shirt had a slightly loose neckline, revealing both collarbones. The mark—it looked so familiar.
I leaned in closer.
My pulse spiked.
What the fuck?
I fumbled with my shirt buttons, yanked my collar down, and grabbed my phone.
I turned on the front camera and angled it toward my collarbone.
My breathing hitched.
Holy fuck.
I looked between my reflection and the picture.
It's the same birthmark.