This fic gave me so much trouble. I wrote most of this while frustrated out of my mind and wanting to cry. As such, I'm not sure how well it turned out, but we'll see, I guess.

Warnings include shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / errors, PLOT HOLES GALORE, borderline purple prose, me writing this while wanting to curl up and sob for ten hours, etc.

Enjoy. - Luna

The Color of Your Soul

Shinichi didn't believe in magic.

Kaito knew this from – well, the fact that he had met Shinichi. That alone was explanation enough. The man practically oozed logic puzzles and pretentious Sherlock Holmes quotes; it was pretty obvious that he wasn't exactly the type to believe in ESP or curses or any sort of supernatural occurrence. Shinichi was firmly rooted in reality, his head out of the clouds and absolutely no belief in superstition.

Kaito also knew this because he had been hearing Shinichi's voice vehemently chanting I don't believe in magic, this is ridiculous, magic is not real, this is some kind of weird dream, this is a hallucination for the past hour on repeat, with very little variation. Inside of Kaito's head. Because Kaito could feel his thoughts. At this point, Kaito honestly didn't know whom he was trying to convince, because it was pretty obvious that something akin to magic did, in fact, exist. He directed this thought at Shinichi, who flinched and shot Kaito a panicked look. It was sort of adora – it was funny. Funny. Not – anything else.

Akako, who was cowering in the corner, lifted her head to try a smile in Shinichi's direction. "I think I mentioned this already, but Kudou-kun, I'm really, really –"

"Shut up," Shinichi said, tone biting, but Kaito felt the wave of weariness that rolled through him. Physically. Because Kaito was very much aware of every one of Shinichi's emotions and the confusing tangle of his thoughts (and vice-versa; Shinichi was no doubt drowning in Kaito's own exhausted frustration). The only way Kaito could get closer to Shinichi was to literally crawl into his skin, which was – kind of disturbing to picture, Kaito discovered as he did just that.

Shinichi made a distressed sound, and Kaito realized he'd probably heard (and seen) that thought. Great.

The whole debacle started, as bad things usually did, at a heist with Akako. She had come up with one of her usual ridiculous schemes to get Kaito to fall in love with her (or whatever it was that she wanted from him), cornering Kaito in a white-chalked pentagram on the rooftop floor as he tried to leave with the Druid's Tear tucked into his suit jacket. At this point, Kaito had come to expect that sort of behavior from her and had resigned himself to it.

Apparently, however, Akako had not planned for the eventuality of Shinichi following Kaito to the roof. Kaito didn't know how she hadn't been aware of that; Shinichi did it literally every heist – it was, like, his trademark – but that wasn't the point. Because just as Akako finished chanting whatever incantation supposedly activated the magic circle and would bond them together for life or whatever, Shinichi came running out of the rooftop access door… and tripped straight into the pentagram.

Which had glowed. And exploded.

And, well. Now they were – Akako called it soulbound. After the three of them had escaped the gallery and made it to Kaito's house (it was the closest), she had explained it as "the interweaving of two souls." The spell was meant to tie two people together in "body, mind, and soul" so there were no secrets, nothing unseen between them. It was a terribly romantic thing for lovers to do, which is why Akako had apparently wanted it with Kaito.

Oh, and the bond also lasted indefinitely.

Shinichi, understandably, had not been impressed.

Now, he was edging towards resignation rather than outright annoyance. Kaito could feel the expansion of his thoughts slowing, feel a blanket of fatigue draping across the space Shinichi's mind occupied within Kaito's. Shinichi's mind sort of resembled a spiral galaxy, Kaito thought fancifully, and right now it was a tired dishwater color. "You know what? I just want to go home," Shinichi groaned, dropping his face in his hands.

"As – enjoyable as this is," Kaito agreed, smiling apologetically at Shinichi when Shinichi shot a halfway hurt look at him as he evidently heard the sarcasm in Kaito's voice (and probably the echo of it in his mind, actually), "I think that would be an excellent idea." The worst part of this arrangement, Kaito thought as quietly as he could manage, was that he couldn't even think properly about the injustice of this situation, because he had to share headspace with someone he had was in – disliked, obviously disliked (not trusted, or adored, or – none of that), and every panicked thought he was entitled to would be heard by that person, which was less than ideal.

Across the room, Shinichi snorted indignantly. Kaito winced – maybe he hadn't thought that quietly enough.

"I'm not enjoying this either, Kid," he snapped, and a tint of orange-red irritation stained the galaxy of his mental presence. Kaito suppressed a flinch and tried his hardest not to seem guilty, which was, unsurprisingly, impossible.

Akako chose this moment to clear her throat. "I, ah," she began, looking cowed when both Kaito and Shinichi turned to look at her (Shinichi with renewed exasperation, Kaito with worn acceptance), "the thing is, you see, you can't really – be more than half a kilometer apart or you'll start choking to death?" By the time she finished her sentence, her voice had risen by two octaves and she was starting to back towards the door. Kaito felt a migraine coming on, and he wasn't sure if it was his or Shinichi's.

"My house is in Beika," Shinichi informed the room at large. Which is more than half a kilometer away. Actually, it's more than four kilometers away. I'm going to choke to death. Is it possible to survive without breathing, Kaito picked out from the shifty nebula of Shinichi's jumbled thoughts. He got the urge to try to calm Shinichi down, somehow, but he could sense that Shinichi was still nettled from earlier, so he refrained.

"Uh… right, so about that," Akako started, then trailed off when Shinichi made a muted sound and stalked out of the room. Kaito caught the tail end of find a damn guest room and forget about all this and mentally nudged him in the right direction. Shinichi gave a grudging thank you before he went back to grumbling quietly at the back of Kaito's skull.

Turning back to a flinching Akako, Kaito sighed. "Thanks so much for this," he said sarcastically, and Akako looked appropriately downtrodden.

"I'm sorry, Kuroba-kun," she mumbled, shuffling uncomfortably. "I – didn't mean for this to happen."

"Oh, really?" Kaito asked, unconvinced. After all, she had been one of the few to know that Kaito sort of had a cru – he backtracked quickly, somehow managing, with great effort, to stop that train of thought. It was like trying not to think about the proverbial white bear. "Whatever you say."

"I'll try to come up with a way to break the bond, but it's going to take some time. If it helps, I think you can block off his thoughts if you just, like, envision a wall between your minds. And I think if you actively try not to listen in, you won't hear as much. But his emotions – you're going to feel those no matter what," Akako told him as she made it to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Uh… sorry about this. Again."

Kaito just waved her off and went to go rescue Shinichi from where he'd gotten confused about whether Kaito's mother's bedroom was the guest room.

"Look," he began as he steered Shinichi to the actual guest room, "this is obviously not the – greatest situation ever. In fact, it's pretty horrible. But still –"

"Right," Shinichi agreed, a burst of tangerine irritation mushrooming in the space between Kaito's ears. He pushed the door to the guest room open and stalked forward until he could flop onto the bed. Why don't you tell me what you really think, he told Kaito sarcastically.

"What do you want me to do?" Kaito demanded, throwing his arms wide. "This whole thing's a bit – you know. I'm not exactly enjoying it, is all."

"Which I am very aware of, thank you," Shinichi snapped, abruptly angry as he lifted his face out of the duvet just enough to cast a boiling-water glare over his shoulder at Kaito, "because you don't trust me at all. You don't even like me. Right. Sorry, I forgot." He let his cheek drop against the bed again. His mind was an alarming vortex of irate orange and raw pink, the starlike thoughts whizzing about like charged particles, too quick to catch.

"You're being unfair," Kaito insisted, trying not to sound whiny and/or panicky as he leaned against the doorframe. "You know I don't hate you, tantei-kun."

"I don't know that, do I," Shinichi mumbled into the sheets.

Kaito couldn't suppress a groan, even as he tried to find a solution to the situation. "Tantei-kun, you're being petty –" he strained, but he knew he'd said the wrong thing when Shinichi's mind glowed dangerously. Before Kaito could do anything, like desperately expose every one of the ridiculous fantasies he'd had about Shinichi or show him the articles about Shinichi's heroic exploits that he'd saved to his phone to prove that no, he didn't hate Shinichi at all, there was a wall between them. Not literally, of course, but mentally. Kaito was still aware of Shinichi's mind beside his, but he couldn't access it – couldn't pick out the threads of individual thoughts or look at any of it too closely. It was as if Shinichi had placed himself in a cage, and Kaito was left to grasp at him through bars. It felt – wrong, almost.

"I heard you thinking about what Koizumi-san said about the wall," Shinichi informed him while Kaito stood gasping. His expression was defiantly sullen when he peered over at Kaito. "Since this is so inconvenient, why don't we just stay like this until Koizumi-san fixes the problem? Then you won't have to deal with me." He didn't wait for a response, burying his face in the pillows in what was clearly a dismissal.

"Tantei-kun…" Kaito stood in the doorway, feeling unbalanced and disoriented, and wondered how he'd managed to screw everything up in less than a day.

Shinichi woke to a desire for chocolate ice cream that was distinctly not his. He had the incredulous, half-formed thought of who wants ice cream at eight in the morning before Kid, two rooms over, huffed at him mentally and disappeared beneath the fog of a million swirling thoughts. Kid's mind was a summer sky, wisps of cloud cover blown wildly about by emotions. It was kind of fascinating to watch.

Okay, it was too early for poeticisms and metaphors, Shinichi decided, and went to hunt down a toothbrush. Kid emerged from within his cluster of cumulonimbus clouds to tell Shinichi that the spare toothbrushes were underneath the sink, precariously close to the drain cleaner. Shinichi spared a moment to be haughty about chemical safety (one day you're going to poison yourself and I won't even be sorry for you) before he reluctantly unwrapped one.

He was halfway through the brushing his teeth on autopilot when he realized that he was supposed to be angrily hiding behind a mental wall, not domestically lecturing Kid about health concerns.

Because Kid was an absolute asshole who actively disliked Shinichi, even though Shinichi had thought they were – that they weren't – well, okay, fine, he'd fancied himself as one of Kid's friends. In hindsight (and knowing what he knew now about how Kid felt about him), it had been a ridiculous notion, the very idea of being friends with a cape-wearing enigma who was really more myth than substance, but even so –

It took Shinichi a second to realize that Kid's mind had stopped moving, the sky eerily still, and Kid was actually listening to Shinichi. Which. If Shinichi hadn't already been feeling pathetic, that would've definitely done it.

At this point, Shinichi had two options. One, reconstruct the wall and pretend none of it had happened and he wasn't weak and sentimental. Two, not reconstruct the wall and pretend none of it had happened and he wasn't weak and sentimental. The only real difference between the two was that the first could seem defensive.

So Shinichi, feeling as if he'd bared his soul to Kid (which he supposed was the whole point of this – soulbond thing), carefully shelved the thoughts as far away from his active consciousness as possible and returned to brushing his teeth. Kid was quiet, and Shinichi tried not to look into his growing maelstrom of thoughts. He didn't know what he might find.

A minute later, as Shinichi spat toothpaste into the sink, Kid appeared in the doorway. Shinichi tamped down all thoughts of how pretty he looked in the mornings, with his hair a mass of snarls and his t-shirt sliding over his shoulders. Kid didn't deserve to hear them.

"Look," Kid sighed when Shinichi pointedly rinsed his mouth and refused to make eye contact. In Shinichi's periphery, he leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms across his chest. "We need to talk about this. I think there's a misunderstanding –"

"Oh, there's definitely been a misunderstanding," Shinichi muttered. He chanced a glare at Kid, trying to come off as righteously angry instead of kicked-puppy pouting. "I don't know why, but I was under the impression that we were at least sort of friends. But sorry, I guess I didn't realize that you disliked me so strongly. I'm sure this is absolutely horrible for you."

"That's not it," Kid groaned, mind swirling tetchily as he rubbed at his temples with one hand. Shinichi accidentally caught the individual strings of he doesn't understand and don't think about it and stop among the clouds and scowled.

"You're misunderstanding again," Kid insisted. "I can tell. Your mind gets all…" He made a frustrated hand motion that Shinichi raised an eyebrow at before he deflated. "Look, this would be a lot easier if you just – don't pay attention to what I'm thinking, because my mind's a mess and I don't mean half the things I think. When I thought the whole thing about not liking you last night… that wasn't true. I do care, tantei-kun. Kudou." He went to run a hand through his hair, but his fingers got snagged in tangles by the time it reached the crown of his head. "I just didn't want you to know, because, well, I didn't know you even liked me at all. I always thought I was just an annoyance to you."

The expanse of Kid's mind was honest, Shinichi allowed himself to think. He hadn't known the sky could look so deeply blue and pleading, but that was how Kid's mind unfurled within his – a mess of clouds and the faintest rumble of distressed thunder.

"All right," Shinichi decided a second later, setting the toothbrush on the counter. "Okay, I – let's just acknowledge that we don't despise each other and move on with our lives." He studied his hands against the white porcelain of the sink rather than look directly at Kid.

"Sounds good to me," Kid agreed before he paused. "And, uh, Kudou?"

"Yes?" Shinichi hazarded a glance over at him.

Kid shuffled in the doorway; his mind went tentative, sunset pink as he averted his gaze. "I – well, my name is Kuroba Kaito." When Shinichi's eyebrows shot up and his thoughts probably short-circuited in surprise, Kid flushed and mumbled, "It's just… weird hearing you call me Kid in your head, okay." He looked over at Shinichi through his eyelashes, and Shinichi felt abruptly breathless.

Clearing his throat, Shinichi tapped his fingers against the edge of the counter. It seemed, inexplicably, that Kid – Kaito – had just bared a very private part of himself to Shinichi, which was the most nonsensical thing Shinichi could've thought, considering they were literally sharing headspace and their souls were interwoven or whatever Koizumi had called it. Knowing Kaito's name shouldn't have seemed monumental.

But it was, somehow, and Shinichi knew Kaito was probably reading the thoughts straight out of his brain and laughing at the soppiness of them – he didn't doubt that he'd hear what would everyone say if they knew the Great Detective of the East was such a sentimentalist if he went scavenging within Kaito's sky – but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care as he smiled across the continents of cold bathroom tiles at Kaito.

Kaito knew he should've expected this, considering Shinichi was, well, Shinichi, but he hadn't planned for it.

"We are not," he enunciated carefully, hands on his hips as he stared Shinichi down, "going to poke around dead bodies for an entire day. I don't care that this is some high-profile case. I'm morally opposed."

Shinichi snorted. His mind was a veritable mass of boiling irritation, all currant and amber. Kaito managed to ignore the glistening strands of thoughts – they were probably all aspersions on Kaito's good name, anyway. "If anything, you should be interested for the sake of morals. This is saving lives."

"Uh, no, I'm pretty sure most of the people you're avenging are dead already, actually," Kaito sniped. He shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest. "No, I refuse."

The exasperated look Shinichi gave him read "you're impossible" in several different languages. "This is ridiculous. You do understand that this is a matter of justice, don't you? This is for the greater good."

"But it's also depressing," Kaito argued, throwing his arms in the air. "Kudou, listen to me. You need to take a break sometimes. I get that this is the ethically right thing to do or whatever, and sure, you're good at it, but you need some time off. You've been involved in, what, eighteen cases in the past two weeks?"

Frowning, Shinichi gave Kaito a confused look. His mind spun marigold, slowly shifting from annoyance to something more calculating. "That's true, but how did you know?" he asked slowly.

Kaito desperately tried not to think about the fact that he was tracking "Kudou Shinichi" on multiple social media platforms or the small library of articles he had saved to his phone. "Lucky guess," he answered, trying not to let his guilt leak into his general thoughts. He had no idea how well it was working, because Shinichi's expression didn't change, and the color of his thoughts was only getting more and more golden with interest. "But if you've really gotten through eighteen cases in just a few weeks, you really need a break."

Making a sound that wasn't quite acquiescing but also wasn't openly antagonistic, Shinichi leaned heavily against the back of Kaito's couch. Kaito took a moment to appreciate that he was wearing one of Kaito's sweatshirts, the old blue one with the ragged hole in the sleeve, because they still hadn't bothered to go collect clothes from Shinichi's house. It suited him and his ridiculous bedhead disturbingly well. "What do you suggest, then, if you think I should take a break?"

"Well," Kaito tried, then paused. He hadn't quite thought of anything, but maybe – maybe he could try… "I, uh… Sometimes I hold magic shows in the park in Haidou, so, like, I don't know, maybe you'd like to come with me?" he offered with a shrug, trying not to seem as if he was putting too much meaning behind it. He'd sort of kept the magic shows to himself, never really inviting Aoko or Hakuba (they knew he held them, though, mostly because Hakuba seemed to know everything in an insanely creepy way).

"Oh." The way Shinichi blinked seemed startled, as if he had expected Kaito to suggest robbing a bank or something in that vein. He watched Kaito for a long moment, expression difficult to decode, before he nodded, smiling a little. The spiral of his mind had subsided to lazy, sunlight goldenrod. "That – that sounds fun. Okay."

That was how Kaito ended up in Haidou Park with Shinichi several steps away, observing quietly as Kaito gave a slew of tiny six-year-olds roses of varying shapes and colors. He hadn't said anything since Kaito had started off the show with a burst of red and white smoke and released a few doves, much to the delight of the children, but his consciousness was humming, sending off little sparks of thoughts that Kaito tried not to read into.

After the show, during which Kaito levitated a few of the younger girls, set off some minor fireworks (and accidentally burned a section of grass – he was going to have to rework his formula for the green fireworks), and did some basic card tricks, Kaito finished sending the kids back to their parents before he turned back to Shinichi. Shinichi had wandered off to sit on a bench a meter or so away, but he had watched the whole thing. Kaito knew from the hue of his thoughts, the slow spin of his galaxy thoughtful and an odd, almost bashful pink.

"What did you think?" Kaito asked as he approached. He gave a mock bow. "Think I can make it big one day?"

"I do, actually. Your mind is – I can tell you like doing magic. It gets..." Shinichi waved a hand before he added, "I don't doubt that you can do whatever you want," with much more sincerity than Kaito was expecting. Kaito also wasn't expecting Shinichi to give him the kind of smile that rivaled every celestial body as he added, "Don't forget me when you're famous, Kuroba."

"I wouldn't," Kaito blurted out before he could stop himself. His cheeks were burning, and he had no doubt that his own mind was blushing, but he mumbled, You're not exactly easy to forget anyway, just to watch Shinichi's expression go surprised but pleased.

"Kudou-kun, I can't believe you didn't tell us," Satou cooed when she cornered Shinichi during one of his case file runs. Kaito still refused to go anywhere near crime scenes, but he was allowing Shinichi to gather a few unsolved cold cases and work on them at home. Or, well, at Kaito's house. Which wasn't home, but.

"What do you mean, I didn't tell you?" Shinichi asked absently as he thumbed through a stack of manila folders, shaking his head as he tried to figure out which was which. These really needed to be organized better, maybe by body count or something, he thought disdainfully, and felt Kaito's semi-horrified amusement wash over him like a warm breeze. Evidently he'd heard that thought.

Satou leaned against the filing cabinet. Her smile was dangerous when Shinichi spared a glance over at her. "You didn't tell us about your boyfriend, I mean."

With grace befitting someone who had solved over half a million mysteries, Shinichi choked and began coughing violently. He bent over, clutching at his chest as Satou grinned smugly at him. "Um, what? Excuse me?" he wheezed once he'd regained some semblance of speech.

Innocently, Satou waved a hand towards where Kaito was loitering near the entrance to the division one offices, absently practicing a rose trick with one hand. "Don't play dumb, the guy you brought! I heard from Ran-chan that you've been avoiding her, and she doesn't know where you've been for the past few days. And then you show up with a guy!" She shook her head at him. "I'm a police detective, Kudou-kun. I know how to connect the dots."

Shinichi considered melting on the spot. He definitely should've told Ran something, but he hadn't, thinking that if he told her he'd been living with a really attractive guy for the last few days, she'd definitely jump to conclusions. Just like how Satou was, right now. "That's – it's not like that at all!" He debated, for half a second, whether he should explain the soulbond thing, and then realized that he'd seem insane as well as in denial. Great.

Across the room, Kaito twitched and turned to give Shinichi an appraising look. Are you okay? You went all – weird for a second there, he projected with some consternation, and Shinichi struggled for something to say in response.

Satou's just overstepping boundaries, he finally replied, and watched as Kaito straightened, looking alarmed. Quickly, he assured, Not, like, in an untoward way or anything. Don't – don't worry about it.

Momentarily forgotten at his side, Satou made a self-contented sound. "I don't see how you can deny that you two aren't involved when you're having a conversation with your eyes across an entire room," she remarked with relish, and Shinichi turned to sputter something incomprehensible at her. She grinned at him before her expression went sisterly and warm. The change occurred so swiftly Shinichi was tempted to take a step back, wondering if she'd been possessed.

"We've been trying to find you someone for so long," Satou told him seriously, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Ever since things fell through with Ran-chan, we've all wanted to see you happy with someone. Especially Takagi-kun and I." Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, hard enough to make Shinichi wince and wonder if he was going to have bruises later. "You'll have to bring your boy around so we can give him a talk. You know, let him know what we'll do to him if you hurts you." Her free hand moved casually towards her holster.

On that somewhat disturbing note, Satou released him – Shinichi resisted the urge to rub his collarbone; did she secretly have talons or something? – beamed cheerfully, and wandered back to her desk. Shinichi stared after her for a long moment, trying to figure out whether he should be touched and concerned for Kaito's safety, before Kaito nudged cautiously into the forefront of Shinichi's mind.

What was that about? I didn't look, before you ask, but, well, you've gone all… happy. Inside your head, I mean.

Clearing his throat, Shinichi shook himself and reached for another folder. Technically, I'm inside your head, he told Kaito in an attempt at deflection.

There was the mental equivalent of a snort. Okay, sure, but seriously, what was that about?

Nothing, Shinichi answered, and tried to shove down all thoughts about what it might be like if he were actually dating Kaito.

Kaito didn't usually have nightmares. He didn't, really. Most of the time, he had ridiculous, nonsensical dreams that he forgot seconds after waking. But sometimes, rarely, he had a nightmare.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He woke, not screaming but shaking and silent with smeared, wet cheeks and twitching as if someone had emptied a stun gun into him. His bedroom was still almost entirely dark, the faintest hint of milky light dripping through the thin curtains drawn over his windows. It was eerily quiet in a way it could only be during the space between midnight and morning.

Sighing, Kaito scrubbed the tears off his face and forced his eyes shut. It was always the same dream, too – his father, handcuffed in a cage, as the flames grew higher and higher around him, while Kaito stood in the wings, petrified and unable to look away as the scent of burning flesh grew stronger –

"Kuroba?"

Physically jumping, Kaito turned to see Shinichi standing, phantasmal, in the doorway, wearing Kaito's plaid pajama pants and a confused frown. It took Kaito a second to realize that Shinichi's mind was a worried, uneasy slate gray beside his own, anxious thoughts pinging about like pinballs. Of course Shinichi would have noticed – hell, he might've even seen Kaito's nightmare, which was a whole other world of embarrassment. If Kaito looked closer, he'd probably see he's so weak, can't even get over one stupid person, what a child –

"Kuroba," Shinichi reiterated, and this time his voice was less unsure and more firm. He crossed the room to sit on the edge of Kaito's mattress, eyebrows furrowed as he inspected Kaito's doubtless pale and sweaty and unattractive face. Something flickered behind his eyes, some strange, soft emotion, and he reached out tentatively to touch Kaito's hand where it lay, racked with tiny tremors, on top of the comforter. "Kuroba, I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Kaito croaked, fisting his hands in the sheets as he looked away. He swallowed nervously and immediately wished he hadn't – Shinichi would have definitely noticed that, as well-trained in body language as he was.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Shinichi just sat, silent as his mind swirled unreadably on, and Kaito tried not to look at him, tried to coil his own consciousness tighter in on itself. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost Shinichi's tenuous, barely-there respect for him, and drenched in tears with a mind as cluttered and shivery as his likely was, he didn't doubt he made a pitiable picture, like some pathetic stray dog left on the side of the road –

"Kuroba," Shinichi cut in, reaching out to curl a hand around the jut of Kaito's jawline. His hand was dry and surgeon steady. "I don't have to read your mind to know that you're freaking out. And – and I can understand." I saw – part of it, he added hesitantly, and Kaito resisted the urge to whine and bury his face in the pillow.

Go ahead and laugh, he thought back as he looked away. It happened a long time ago, right? I shouldn't still be worked up over it, right? Right?

Shinichi stared blankly at him. If you think I'm going to laugh at you, he began, slow and purposeful, then you really don't know me at all.

You're Kudou Shinichi¸ Kaito shot back at him before he could stop himself. You're not scared of anything. Nothing ever shakes you. You got turned into a six-year-old and went on like it was nothing. You took down an international crime syndicate without a second thought. I think I know you pretty well.

No, Shinichi responded, quietly fierce, you don't.

And then Kaito was suddenly zooming through explosions of bold, spray paint-bright colors and silvery constellations of thoughts and so much space. It took him a moment to realize he had been pulled into the vortex of Shinichi's mind.

What are you doing, he tried to get out, but suddenly he came to a stop, and he wasn't looking at the never-ending, gradual spread of Shinichi's thoughts. He was looking at a house, two stories tall and a bit rundown around the edges, standing against the navy blue of a night sky. It was almost silent, save for the slow, haunting sound of music playing from – somewhere, but probably the house. Through one of the faded windows, Kaito could just make out the shadowy shape of someone at a piano on the second floor.

The melody was oddly familiar. Kaito squinted for a long second before he placed it – Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

The moment he did, the house caught on fire.

Kaito gaped, startled, as the flames roared and grew, engulfing the house. Everything was hot, the air scalding Kaito's skin, and yet he could still hear Moonlight Sonata playing, the notes growing sparser and sparser, fainter and fainter, as time went on. And then it stopped, cut off with startling abruptness – only to be replaced by screams, howling, piercing shrieks of agony –

Abruptly, Kaito found himself back in his own head, back in his bedroom with Shinichi sitting beside him. Shinichi had gone ashen, in both the mind and the face.

"You're not the only one," he said shortly, "with nightmares."

Kaito didn't trust himself to speak. Throat dry, he cautiously asked, Who was that? In the – building?

He wasn't expecting Shinichi to answer quietly, A serial killer. Killed three people to get revenge for his father's death. There was a pause, the mental equivalent of an indrawn breath, and then, I couldn't save him. I watched him burn to death, and I couldn't do anything but stand there.

He was leaving a lot unsaid, Kaito could tell – all the I know how you feels and do you understand nows – but he didn't need to for Kaito to understand. It was obvious what his meaning was, and therefore Shinichi saw no need to cushion the blow or explain away the significance with decorative words. In an odd way, Kaito thought, that almost spoke more than the nightmare.

"Okay," Kaito finally said aloud, trying for a smile as he tucked his hands beneath the duvet, and Shinichi flicked a grin at him as he stood up.

"Good night, Kuroba," he intoned lowly, mouth a soft, worn line and eyes warm beneath eaves of dark lashes, and, yawning, left the room.

As quietly as he could manage, Kaito allowed himself to think, Okay, so maybe I love him.

Over time (aka the two weeks he'd been cohabitating with Kaito slash becoming more and more alarmed at how well they fit together), Shinichi had gotten used to the rhythm of Kaito's mind. Obviously he didn't inspect it closely or try to pick out individual thoughts, because they'd decided they wouldn't do that and Shinichi was a man of his word (no matter how desperately he wanted to know what Kaito was thinking). But he'd learned to pick apart which cloud formations meant what within the stretch of Kaito's consciousness – dull, dusty gray skies meant misery, clear cerulean with the occasional fleecy cloud meant content, and bleeding, too-bright burnt orange meant fury. Shinichi could probably be a weatherman with how much practice he was getting diagnosing the sky.

Right now, Shinichi thought as he leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling, Kaito, who was hunched over a veritable storm of paper lying on the kitchen table, was – frustrated, maybe, from the tint of ocher permeating his mind, and probably tired, too, from the wispy stratus clouds drifting aimlessly about. Hm.

"I can tell you're thinking about me," Kaito informed Shinichi without looking at him.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't read each other's thoughts, Kuroba," Shinichi returned snidely. The kettle whistled, and Shinichi turned to take it off the stove, plucking the box of jasmine tea off the shelf over the spice rack and snatching a mug patterned with extremely egotistic Kid symbols from the cupboard as he went.

Turning to drape his arm over the back of the chair, Kaito gave Shinichi an unamused look. "Stop thinking so loudly, then."

It was true; Shinichi hadn't exactly been trying to keep it down. Picking up the mug after he'd poured hot water over the tea bag, he plopped down onto the chair beside Kaito's. "Want to tell me what's frustrating you so much?"

"I've got a heist planned," Kaito admitted, leaning back in his chair. The long, smooth line of his throat as he let his head loll back was mildly distracting. "Or, well, I'm trying to plan a heist, but it's not going well." When he gave Shinichi a hopeful, commiserating look and Shinichi just blinked unemotionally at him, he groaned and bashed his head against the table. "Okay, I get it. You think I'm pathetic."

"Well, no, we've established that I don't think that at all." Shinichi tried not to think too vividly about the whole – nightmare thing. To be honest, it had stung him a little that Kaito would think so little of him – did Shinichi really present such an uncaring, unsympathetic front? – but he was certain they'd reached an agreement now. He was also never going to forget how Kaito looked in the lowlight, his eyes tortured and his mouth unsteady and his hands shivering, something fragile and not at all like the suave, untouchable Kid he knew –

Clearing his throat and thoughts, Shinichi gave a half-shrug and rested his elbows on the table. "I mean, it's not like I've ever planned an illegal jewel robbery, so I can't really relate," he remarked, sipping at his tea serenely. He set the mug down and leveled an expectant look across the table at Kaito. "But tell me about it. Let's see what I can do for you."

Kaito stared at him wordlessly for a moment. "Wait – are you suggesting that you'll – you'll help me with a heist?" He said this in the same disbelieving, taken aback way one might say "Your hobby is recreational tepee construction?" or "You have a pet ostrich?"

"Um," Shinichi began in an "I thought you were intelligent" tone that Kaito rolled his eyes at, "yes, that's exactly what I'm doing." He folded his hands primly before him. "Are you going to tell me what the problem is?" For a second, he watched shadowy clouds roil indecisively across the surface of Kaito's mind before Kaito deflated, mind going a defeated bathwater color.

"The place I'm trying to hold the heist is some paranoid art collector's summer mansion, and the security is ridiculous," he sighed, picking a seemingly random paper out of the mess and pushing it in Shinichi's direction. Shinichi glanced down at it to find a set of blueprints covered in Kaito's messy, curlicued scrawl staring back at him. Looking them over, he goggled when he realized that there was a retinal scanner on every door, surveillance cameras mounted on eighty percent of the available flat surfaces, pressure pads in the floors, and an honest-to-God self-destruct system implemented in the event of an intruder breaking into the garden or a stray cat accidentally wandering onto the premises.

"That's… legitimately insane," he agreed, impressed against his will. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Kaito hissed. If he had been someone less charming and debonair, Shinichi would've described the undertone to his voice as whiny. "I really need to check this jewel, Kudou. It might be what I'm – looking for."

Shinichi kept his expression carefully neutral. He'd gotten – some idea of why Kaito did what he did. When he'd awoken in the middle of the night to Kaito's mind crawling around his, shrieking as it shoved fire and death and helpless at him, some of Kaito's memories had spilled into his. And, well, Shinichi thought he understood Kaito a little better, now.

To deter Kaito from noticing what he was thinking about – he didn't think he was thinking too loudly, but who knew how closely Kaito was looking – Shinichi shrugged. "If you can't go inside, why don't you get the jewel out to you?" he suggested.

"What?" Kaito's eyes brightened, and his mind lit to cobalt. "What do you mean?"

"Find a way to get the owner to bring the jewel outside. You could probably come up with something that would make them doubt whether the jewel they've got is real and bring it outside of the mansion," Shinichi explained, smirking across the table as Kaito's expression grew calculating. His consciousness sparkled with tiny lights, like sunbeams peeking through the clouds, as he bent over the papers and went to work, shuffling papers and drafting something on the back of a printout. Shinichi watched, unable to keep from smiling dopily at the back of Kaito's head.

He could probably understand why Koizumi had thought this soulbonding business was so romantic, he thought. It was desperately romantic, watching Kaito, whose tongue was now poking out of the corner of his mouth as he jotted down a note in a margin, while also seeing the colors his mind made, cycling through indigos and azures as clouds jumped and swirled like a time-lapsed storm simulation. It was – it was incredible, was what it was, and Shinichi wouldn't trade the world for it, as sentimental and stupid as it sounded.

As if hearing that revoltingly sappy thought, Kaito glanced up from the paper he was holding. "Kudou?" he asked, tilting his head curiously at Shinichi, and Shinichi tried to look as innocuous as possible.

"Yes?"

"Did you just…" Kaito hesitated, tapped a fingertip against the edge of the paper, and then shook his head. "Never mind." His gaze lingered, though, before he gave the mental equivalent of a shrug and went back to writing.

For not the first (or second, or forth, or twelfth) time that day, Shinichi quietly wondered if maybe – if he'd done something extremely good in a past life or if the universe finally decided to give him a break – maybe Kaito might like him, too.

Maybe he just hadn't been paying close enough attention or something, but somehow, Kaito hadn't noticed what Shinichi's mind was like when he was solving a case.

To celebrate Kaito's heist going off without a hitch (Shinichi had been there, obviously, but he had mostly sat on the sidelines and made fun of Kaito's cape because he was kind of terrible), they'd gone out to dinner, to some unpronounceably-named restaurant that served eight courses and had the requisite long-nosed waiter dressed in a waistcoat and legitimately polished brogues. And because Shinichi was a literal death magnet, some CEO of a pharmaceutical company (or something like that) had faceplanted into his cabernet-braised short ribs, much to the horror of the other patrons.

Kaito had been understandably annoyed, of course, because come on, he'd been eating lemon-marinated grilled scallops across from a well-dressed Kudou Shinichi who somehow looked even more appetizing than the promised seventh course of nectarine and blackberry crème brulee, all the while watching Shinichi's mind spiral, shifting from amethyst to tanzanite as he listened to the live band and made horrifically sarcastic mental comments whenever the violinist messed up. It was literally everything Kaito wanted in life, minus Pandora. Interruptions had been the last thing Kaito wanted.

But maybe – maybe – this wasn't so bad, either. Kaito was sitting a table in one corner, eating the remnants of the second-course cream of barley and watching Shinichi poke at the body as Megure and Takagi hover at his side. Kaito personally didn't see the appeal of solving murders – they were far too gruesome and morbid for his taste – but he watched as Shinichi's mind spun too quickly to follow, woven with glimmering colors and filaments of sparkling silver as thoughts shot off like shooting stars and congregated in clusters as he made connections. It was incredible to watch.

It was so incredible, actually, that Kaito couldn't help but listen in a little. He knew it was wrong, considering they'd long since promised they wouldn't do that to each other, but Shinichi's mind was just so bright, and – well, Kaito knew that technically he was only a jewel thief for revenge and justice, but he had to admit that he'd grown fond of colorful, brilliant things, and Shinichi's mind was no exception.

Pushing aside the bone china bowl, Kaito relaxed into his chair before he hesitantly curled into one corner of Shinichi's mind. Everything flashed by him rapidly, an endless sequence of it could be cyanide but no it has to be arsenic and gray shirt – which brand; significance? and so many other questions and answers regarding things that would be meaningless in any other context but seemed to carry vast implication within the limits of Shinichi's mind.

He was following a thread of thought about suit jacket, multiple materials? blend? no – silk when he stumbled into I hope Kaito's not completely bored and he probably thinks I'm depressing and maybe he'd like me more if I wasn't like this, followed by a tiny spiral of sad, dreary gray. It startled Kaito, learning that Shinichi could be weaving some many thoughts together on a ridiculous number of levels with a ridiculous amount of intricacy and yet still manage to be self-deprecating.

I don't think anything like that, Kaito was compelled to blurt out, right in the middle of Shinichi's brain, because he was a complete idiot, but he cared more about Shinichi knowing that the truth than his own dignity. Outwardly, Shinichi startled, spinning on his heel to stare at Kaito with wide eyes, and mentally, his consciousness went shocked, pearly white.

You're not supposed to be in here, he snapped, more defensive than anything, and Kaito tried to give an impression of apology.

I just wanted to see what you were thinking about, he insisted. It's interesting when you're solving a case, okay. I was just curious. But we're going to talk about this, because you have some misconceptions about me.

Shinichi blinked at him, and Kaito picked up on confusion and resignation before Shinichi forcibly ejected him from his mind. He didn't throw up a wall, though, and he did say, You're one to complain about grievous misconceptions, but fine, we can talk about this later. When I'm not working.

Agreed, Kaito sent back, and went back to admiring the sprawl of Shinichi's mind as he returned his attention to the body. Megure and Takagi were watching him with concern, but Shinichi ignored their raised eyebrows.

And they did talk about it, later, after Shinichi solved the case (the culprit had been the head chef, who had been an old business rival of the CEO's who had lost his job over a legal dispute or something) and they were both safely ensconced in their respective beds (Kaito in his own, Shinichi in the guest room's).

Contrary to popular belief, Kaito told him as he stared at the wall in front of his face, I don't actually hate detectives.

You're the one who was referring to us as "critics" in your head, Shinichi reminded him. The thought was tangibly tinged with gunmetal gray sarcasm.

Yeah, but, Kaito began nonsensically, trying to figure out where he was going. But, okay, fine, I don't hate you. You, in particular. That's what I mean.

There was a short silence. Kaito resisted the urge to dive into Shinichi's humming mind and just figure out what Shinichi was thinking, but eventually Shinichi mumbled, I'm honored, Kuroba. It sounded as if it was supposed to be gruff, but it came across more relieved, with a hint of affection.

You're welcome, Kudou, Kaito answered. He rolled over and slept for eight hours straight.

Obviously, Shinichi didn't know Kaito's friends, other than Koizumi. He hadn't known who "Kuroba Kaito" was until fairly recently, after all. So when Kaito grudgingly asked Shinichi if he'd like to go to dinner with some friends because they wanted to know why Kaito had been out of contact for so long but Kaito would understand if Shinichi didn't want to because Kaito's friends were insane and weird and maybe it would be better if they didn't go – needless to say, Shinichi had been intrigued.

So it had been a bit of a surprise to discover that Kaito's circle of friends included Hakuba, the other detective chasing after Kid, and Aoko, Nakamori's daughter. Kaito liked to live life on the edge, he decided. There was no other reason he'd be friends with two people who were almost literally out for his blood.

It was also a bit alarming to see their reactions when Shinichi trailed after Kaito into the restaurant. Shinichi was fairly certain nobody was supposed to look as sadistically delighted as Aoko did, and Hakuba's expression could possibly be described as manic.

"Hey, guys," Kaito greeted as he dropped heavily into the chair opposite Aoko. He gave both Aoko and Hakuba a warning look that Shinichi interpreted as "don't say a word or I'll knife you." His mind was clogged with a nervous, muggy haze that Shinichi wrinkled his nose at.

"Hi," Shinichi added when Aoko and Hakuba continued to stare at him. He sat down carefully beside Kaito, sending off, Is there a reason they're looking at me like they want to eat me?

Kaito didn't really respond, doing the mental equivalent of a flaily shrug. Shinichi sighed.

"So," Aoko drawled, leaning forward expectantly, "you're Kudou Shinichi."

"Uh…" Shinichi nodded, strangely intimidated. He had a feeling Aoko was Ran-levels of dangerous. "Yes?"

"Kuroba-kun is a big fan," Hakuba added, smirking when Kaito looked at him with something palpably murderous in his eyes. He tilted his head towards Shinichi conspiratorially. "Just between you and me, he's been following your cases for ages. Years, even."

And that was – that was information. That was something Shinichi had not been aware of, for some reason. Now it made sense that Kaito had known about his solving eighteen cases in two weeks.

"Hakuba," Kaito hissed. His mind was visibly distressed, all alarmed scarlets and cerises and other colors Shinichi hadn't realized skies could be.

"That's," Shinichi started, but he ended up flushing too hard to continue when Aoko tacked on, "Big fan of yours. Really big fan of yours." He was half-certain that was an innuendo of some kind, but he didn't want to call her out on it. Or think about Kaito being – um.

"I will eviscerate both of you if you don't stop talking now," Kaito said loudly, snapping open his menu with far more force than necessary (the laminated pages creaked tiredly in protest). His ears were an adorable pink that rather matched the color of his mind, actually.

"I think it's sweet," Aoko chortled as she opened her own menu. "And I heard from Akako-chan that you two have been shacking up for the past, like, month, and I mean, I haven't really heard from you for that exact amount of time, Kaito, almost as if you're constantly busy – so there's only one conclusion I can come to, right?" She nudged Hakuba with her elbow, and he nodded decisively. His cheeks were distended with the force of his mercilessly suggestive smile. Shinichi felt a combination of tragically amused and helplessly embarrassed.

"That's – not what's happened," he tried woodenly. He sounded like a stage actor who'd forgotten his lines.

Hakuba adopted a pensive expression. "I mean, obviously I'd never be interested in Kuroba-kun, seeing as he's obviously Kid –" Kaito made a half-hearted sound of complaint, "– but I do have to wonder. How good is he?"

"What do you mean?" Shinichi asked faintly, even though he had a pretty good idea of what Hakuba meant.

"I mean, is he a generous lover?" Hakuba, Shinichi was fairly sure, was some demon incarnated in human flesh. There was no other reason he would ask that while wearing a shit-eating smile. "How is he with aftercare? Stamina? What about –"

"Okay, we're going to talk about dinner now," Kaito announced, voice an octave higher than usual. "I think I'm going to have curry. What about you, Kudou?"

"Er, um, I don't know? Sukiyaki, maybe?" Shinichi was a little occupied with trying not to think too deeply about spending a mouth with Kaito doing – doing what Aoko and Hakuba presumably thought they had done for the past weeks. Judging from the way Kaito was growing steadily pinker, he might not have been all too successful.

"Kudou," Kaito muttered under his breath as he leveled Shinichi with a wide-eyed look, "stop thinking about it." Or at least think about it – quieter, or something, I really don't need to hear this, oh my God, he added with thinly veiled desperation. Shinichi tried not to think about Kaito being desperate.

"I'm trying," Shinichi shot back, staring fixedly down at the tabletop. He thought about carpentry, knitting, fishing, and strangulation holds for the next ten minutes while Aoko and Hakuba shared amused, evil smirks with each other, because they were both horrible human beings and Shinichi hated Kaito's friends so much. (Even though Ran and Hattori would probably do the same thing if they knew he'd spent a month living with Kid, whom he might have occasionally sighed over. Occasionally. Or – maybe daily.)

In the end, they got through dinner, but just barely. Needless to say, Aoko's comments about banana splits were less than helpful.

Kaito could admit that he was sort of – well, enamored. Of Shinichi. Even more than before, somehow.

He blamed the fact that Shinichi was ridiculous and charming and gorgeous, and now Kaito knew that he liked cream but not sugar in his coffee and was almost always residually sleepy and he looked good in Kaito's clothes, because even after a month, they still hadn't gone to gather some of Shinichi's stuff from his house. How was Kaito supposed to shrink his crush back down to size when he knew what Shinichi looked like fresh out of the shower and what color his thoughts turned when he was happy, which seemed to be whenever Kaito looked at him? He just – he liked knowing, all right.

But following the general rules of Kaito's life, the good things didn't last, because he woke up one morning and Shinichi was just – gone. Kaito's head was vacant and hollow, save for the hum of his own brain, and it felt wrong.

He was up and out of bed within seconds, running from his room down the hall towards the guest bedroom. He had gone only several steps before the door to the guest bedroom was flung open and Shinichi stumbled out, clutching fervently at his own head. They nearly collided in the narrow space, Kaito tripping over nothing and bumping shoulders with Shinichi.

Shinichi's eyes were plate-wide, lips parted and face pale. "You're not –" he croaked, and Kaito clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached and his molars groaned. He wondered what Shinichi's mind looked like at that very moment – maybe it was bewildered and ivory, or maybe it was shocked and porcelain, or – he didn't know, he couldn't check, and it bothered him.

"We need to talk to Akako," Kaito insisted, barely waiting for Shinichi to nod in agreement before he took off for his bedroom, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand to call her.

She picked up on the fourth ring, voice groggy and muzzy as she demanded, "Kuroba-kun, what's wrong?"

"What did you do," Kaito half-shouted in response, gripping the phone so tight he could feel his knuckles going white. "He's not – we're not – what happened to the soulbond?" He looked up just in time to see Shinichi leaning heavily against the doorframe, eyes shut and eyelids twitching as his brow furrowed.

"I found a way to break it yesterday," Akako answered, sounding more awake now that Kaito had shrieked at her. There was the sound of rustling, as if she was getting out of bed. "I had to go back to the magic circle and figure out a way to nullify it. It took so long because I had to combine, like, five different enchantments to get it right. It was pretty complicated. I hope you two are happy now."

"No, we're not," Kaito hissed into the phone, glancing over at where Shinichi was pressing his fingers to his temples. "We're really, really not."

"I don't know what to tell you, then," Akako responded, sounding miffed. "Both of you were all for dissolving the bond when it first happened – I was pretty sure Kudou-kun was going to murder me for accidentally bonding you guys – and you didn't tell me otherwise, so what was I supposed to do when I found a way to reverse it?"

"Um, consult us, maybe?" Kaito retorted before he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building. "Whatever. What are we going to do now?" He tried not to look over at Shinichi. The emptiness inside his head was devastating, but if Shinichi didn't care enough to try to reestablish the soulbond –

"I can't just – soulbond you back together, you know. From the research I did, once the bond is broken, it's near impossible to recreate it," Akako informed him with a touch of irritation. "It's like trying to weave cloth back together after you've ripped it. You can't do it – you either have to sew it together, in which case there's going to be an obvious seam, or you make a whole new fabric. If I tried to bond you two again, it would be a different type of bond. It wouldn't feel exactly the same. Actually, it'd probably be a lot weaker. Soulbonding's really only meant to happen once."

Kaito felt himself go cold.

"I'm sorry," Akako remarked after a long moment, and Kaito realized she'd noticed there was something wrong from his silence. "Was I… did I do something wrong?"

"I – no, that's… you did what you said you were going to," Kaito stammered. They should've told her, said something, but they hadn't – neither of them had wanted to admit that they liked the connection, because pride, and now – now it was too late. Now Kaito was going to have to feel as if a part of him had been severed, was going to have to deal with phantom pain and flowerpot-emptiness.

"You don't sound okay, Kuroba-kun," Akako commented with trepidation. "What can I do to make it –?"

"I'm going to call you back," Kaito interrupted and hit the "end call" button on his phone. The sound the casing made when he dropped it on the nightstand was frightfully loud, a gunshot in the silence. Kaito hadn't been aware of just how much space Shinichi's mind had taken up in his head, how much sound the incomprehensible buzz of his thoughts had made.

"What are we going to do?" Shinichi murmured eventually, lifting his face to meet Kaito's eyes. He was wearing a pair of Kaito's sweatpants and an old t-shirt that Kaito had gotten two summers ago at a concert. It was possibly the worst time to realize that.

"I," Kaito started, stumbled to a stop, and then continued a bit lamely, "I don't know."

"Well." Shinichi tugged uncomfortably at the hem of his shirt. He stared resolutely at a spot over Kaito's left shoulder. "I – I guess I could… go."

Kaito's first response was to demand, "What?" but then he remembered that the only thing keeping Shinichi there had been the bond and the whole half-a-kilometer thing. Shinichi hadn't wanted to end up living with Kaito for so long, he reminded himself. It was ridiculous to assume that Shinichi would want – would want –

"Sure, that's fine," Kaito agreed, brushing past Shinichi as casually as he could and practically running out of the room. He wondered if his voice sounded as choked to Shinichi as it did to him.

Behind him, Shinichi made a sound that was almost a sigh but could've also just been a particularly slow exhale. "I – all right," he answered, sounding small, and Kaito would've given anything and everything to know what Shinichi was thinking, what color his mind had gone. Instead, he just clenched his hands and pretended not to hear anything as he stalked into the kitchen, threw open the refrigerator door, and stared unseeingly at a carton of milk.

So Shinichi left after breakfast, promising he'd wash the clothes he was wearing and return them to Kaito as soon as possible. Kaito felt that there should've been more – something about the way he left, but in reality, Shinichi just sort of hovered on his doorstep for a moment, expression shuttered as he ran a hand through his hair, and then awkwardly waved, gave a, "See you around, Kuroba," and hurried down Kaito's front walk. He was gone in under a minute, turning the far corner and disappearing from sight, and Kaito had never felt so alone, standing at his front door and staring down the street.

Regardless of personal feelings, Shinichi had done the right thing, leaving Kaito. They weren't dating, and they hadn't promised each other anything. They hadn't even kissed. They were, technically, just friends. Friends who had shared headspace for a month and spent practically every waking moment together, but friends. Just friends. There was no reason why they should've gone on living together, especially when Kaito had been so indifferent about it.

It was hard to convince himself of that when he felt so guilty, Shinichi thought dismally.

He felt doubly guilt-ridden when he looked down and remembered that he was currently wearing Kaito's shirt, the worn gray one that he'd been wearing when he'd gone. By now, he probably should've washed and returned it, considering it'd been nearly a week since he'd last seen Kaito, but it was – it was just a really comfortable shirt, okay. It was just whatever.

Shinichi was trying to put all thoughts of Kaito and his stupid soft shirt out of his head, flipping halfheartedly through a file Takagi had dropped off with some concerned noises a few hours ago, when the doorbell rang. The sound reverberated through the house, making Shinichi feel even emptier inside than he had before.

Struggling to his feet, Shinichi forced himself to plod towards the front door. It was probably just a delivery person, he decided. Or possibly Ran, who was understandably still angry at him for disappearing for a month without bothering to tell her what he'd been up to. Another reason to feel guilty – he'd promised himself he wouldn't do that to her, not after Conan, but he'd done it anyway. Shinichi was kind of a terrible person, wasn't he, to get so caught up in Kaito and completely forget about his best friend of over fifteen years –

He was so busy berating himself that when he opened the door, it barely registered that Kaito was standing on his doorstep. When it did, Shinichi did a legitimate double take.

Kaito looked – not good, even though Kaito always looked good, even first thing in the morning when normal humans had no right to look as if they belonged on a centerspread. He looked as if he'd spent several days sleeping on a park bench or maybe been hit by a truck on his way over – there were half-circles smeared like soot underneath his eyes and a sad droop to his mouth that reminded Shinichi of a wilted flower. Shinichi gaped.

"Um, hi," he finally got out when he realized Kaito was looking at him expectantly. He tried not to shiver when Kaito's gaze slid down to Shinichi's – Kaito's – shirt, then back to Shinichi's face.

"Look, I," Kaito began, but he stopped, one hand lifting to rub at the back of his head. "I just…" He exhaled slowly, meeting Shinichi's eyes steadily. "It feels – wrong, being apart from you. I want – I know this is sort of sudden and that I've really got no right to be asking this from you, but I think I'd like to – to keep doing what we were doing." He swallowed visibly. "If you'll have me, I mean."

And Shinichi – well, how else was he supposed to respond to what was practically a proposal, besides breathing, "Of course," and gathering Kaito into his arms to kiss him solidly on the mouth? Kaito kissed back openly, warmly, bringing to mind summertime and hazy, sticky sunsets, and Shinichi sank into the contact, bracketing Kaito's waist with his hands.

For a moment, with his eyes shut and nothing but Kaito to ground him, he thought he saw blue skies, cloudless and interminable, stretching out into the distance.

This was so painful to write. I hope some of you enjoyed it even just a little (if you did, please consider dropping me a review!) and I'll see you all soon! I've got some Christmas fluff planned, but we'll see... - Luna