Title: Little Talks and Smoky Mirrors
Words: 1,126
Author: Cyanide Flowers
Disclaimer: I believe that at this point the word "fan" is not in the dictionary as "creator and owner of Case Closed/Detective Conan or any of its respective characters". It is more likely listed as "those who write for this series and wish to get the rights to it for Christmas or a birthday".
They had stopped that façade a long, long time ago. The world still believed the rivalry and challenge existed between the two, and it did, but it wasn't vicious or sabotaging any longer. Acceptance of brilliance had led to friendship, had led to hands wanting to hold, had led to shy stolen kisses under the moonlight. Secret smiled and winks passed between them afterwards, causing brilliant blushes and forced, stuttering shouts of denial.
And it had never been wrong for them, this rough and tumble, shy grade-school romance. It was something they had both needed to escape their misery, their tumultuous situations. Delaying it through silly things like walks in the park, a present given on Valentine's, a heist where everyone was forced to cosplay, arranger included. Disapproval often wafted between them, or anger, but it was always shrugged or laughed off, their meetings always ending with soft, heartfelt kisses.
Their identities weren't ever needed for these arrangements, and they found a new level of bliss in their neutrality and newness. Stories were exchanged, things like life, illness, poison, age, location, and depression were forgotten as they clashed and breathed their life into each other, becoming so attached that they were practically one.
It had felt like half his heart had been torn out when the other died. The lifeless ivory body laying in that black, black casket, the white roses looking almost dull and dirty against the drained and bloodless skin. The dark earth swallowed it, and while others around him wept and sobbed, he allowed himself only. One. Tear.
Sakura blossoms passed by, the leaves and hues of autumn, the dismally sticky heat of summer, the deathly chill of winter, all rotated and swirled together to create his nightmare. Selling his soul to the devil for a bit of heat, a bit of life, and to have a reason for the tears he let out from behind screwed-shut eyelids. A blank haze occupied his mind as he practiced, taped up his shattered mask, and pressed it to his face. The dismal situation he had made for himself made his body lean and scarred, and his breathing rasp in his throat. Bullet shots were welcomed, as it was a sharp, dark pain, instead of that dull, white pain growing brighter and brighter, closer and closer…
But then he had seen him. A mirror image of that one he had shared kisses and stories with so very long ago. But….the one who held his heart was gone forever. So shaking it off as an illusion, he turned around, the haunted and hurt look in the other's eyes following his steps.
He had appeared at his heist that night. A challenge that hadn't been seen at a heist since the death of his beloved was presented, and he eagerly tore into it, not minding this time if anyone was injured, as long as he could get his mind off the doppelganger. But alas, as he ran to the roof, a white shadow flowing to the top of the stairwell, he caught sight of him through the open door. Tears rising in his eyes and bile rising in his throat, he hastily ran back down and returned the jewel before returning, shaken, to a safe house.
That night….he planned his own suicide. Holding the razor to his wrist, he felt the pull of his depression telling him to just do it already, but his mind told him that he couldn't. He was afraid of causing that much pain to himself. So, card gun in hand, he trooped downstairs and switched it out with the real gun he had, a duplicate he had made for defeating enemies without their knowledge.
Smiling his carefree smile that looked so very trustworthy, he handed the gun to his assistant, telling him to shoot him in the head. He said he would dodge, that it was just a test with the card gun for his reflexes, that he didn't want to get shot again. The trigger was pulled. He didn't keep his word.
The news was all over the papers the next day, and the teenager looked at the article with a stricken expression, a tear falling on a grinning black-and-white photo before taking the gun and holding it up to his head. When his mother came to check on him an hour later, she screamed in a heartbroken voice.
Kaito Kuroba yawned as he walked along the seashore. Water was his element, and he loved it. Glancing over at the white-capped waves, he was momentarily surprised to see a red cloud spreading beneath the surface, and a dark body bobbing towards him. Dropping his bag and coat, he ran out, swimming when it got too deep. When he reached the body, he grabbed it, pulled it back to shore. Dripping wet, he quickly began to perform compressions on the lifeless, bloody body.
Hearing a coughing and spluttering, he stopped, and helped the poor soul to sit up and choke water and blood out of his lungs. Seeming dizzy, the almost-corpse leaned against Kaito, breathing heavily. Bending down, Kaito picked him up, making sure the airway was still fully open. Gosh, he was so glad that his mom forced him to take that CPR class instead of going skating with Aoko. Wait…did she know something like this would happen? For goodness sake, she really should tell him when she got a prophecy involving him.
Raspy croaks and pleas for water reached him, and he flinched, realizing that this person was starved and dehydrated and he hadn't done anything yet. So guilty was he, that in this eagerness, he almost dropped the boy in his arms (for you actually tell that he had short hair and actually had a gender now) and instead dragged them both down onto the rocky sand of the beach. Unfortunately, their lips also touched. Which, in a regular romantic cliché moment, would be wonderful and lead to an epiphany about how they were obviously meant for each other, yada yada yada, the only thought in Kaito's mind was What the heck am I doing?! I'm blocking his airway! because he was a sensible and reasonable person who realized that you shouldn't make out with a person who is recovering from almost drowning.
But as he gently pushed away and reached for water, a familiar voice spoke. "KID…?" He stiffened and turned around, wondering why that name sounded like a form of address for him, why his head was spinning, and most of all, why that voice sounded so familiar.
"Tantei-kun?" his voice squeaked out, without conscious thought. A softening of cerulean eyes and tears brimming over and falling down their faces solidified to become a firm and definite "Yes."
A/N: This was extremely difficult to write since I haven't dabbled in this pairing for over a month DX
And my computer's broken, so I can't really write much. So yeah…don't expect too many updates in the near future. I will be posting an omake for this, but yeah…this is only really something to satisfy my guilt and get Ri-chan to stop nagging me about it. (Ri-chan, I don't really mean that but this is for chu :3 even though you don't support the pairing I'm super happy you still read what I write !)
And even if I do update not much of it will be for this fandom, since I've recently gotten into a few series with underloved fanbases (07-Ghost, Inu X Boku SS, Earl and Fairy, a few more I don't remember…) But they're all phenomenal series, I suggest looking them up ^^
Sorry this is so depressing...and that I made Conan die TT_TT (and Kaito, and Shinichi….yeah, lots of death)
Please Read and review, if you can!