"The world will end at midnight."

"What?"

"What if?" Heiji leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, his chin cradled in the palms of his hands.

Conan rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze back to the mystery novel he was reading. "That's illogical."

"It's just a what-if situation!"

Conan flipped a page.

"What would you do?"

Conan hummed absent-mindedly. "It wouldn't happen."

Heiji threw his hands up in the air and swung them back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Sheesh, for a detective, you sure have no imagination."

Conan raised an eyebrow, peering at Heiji from behind the lens of his glasses. The book snapped shut and thudded dully onto the desk.

A grin brightened Heiji's face. "Oh-ho, are you interested now?"

Conan's eyes lowered in thought, and Heiji watched. It was a familiar expression, the weight of contemplation far too serious on the face of a child. Lips parted, and Heiji inhaled in expectation, waiting.

"I..." Conan met Heiji's gaze evenly. "I would tell Ran."

Heiji didn't move. He thought it would be something outrageous, funny even, or maybe something along the lines of what one would cross off a bucket list. But of course, this was Kudou, and his thoughts never seemed to veer far from the light of a single existence. He hadn't expected this, though he supposed, as a numb afterthought, it was very much the only answer.

"I su-suppose." He managed to choke out, voice faltering. He was the one who was to blame for the many times he nearly let it slip, be it out of over-enthusiasm or just inconsideration. Heiji was aware of the danger but it had never felt real. All those times the girls had shot them strange looks when "Kudou" passed his lips; ha-ha I meant something else of course. Kudou's glares had never really carried any weight.

But he could have guessed.

From the nightmares. To have to hide just to answer the phone, run away into the shadows to try and reveal the truth. Behind the scenes, in the dark. Out of sight, out of mind. Even though he deserved more.

"How about you?" Conan settled back on the couch.

Heiji didn't move.

"Oi, oi, this was your idea." Conan rolled his eyes. "I told you my answer; where's yours?"

"I... I don't know."

"That's not fair." Conan reached out for his book. "You're just trying to be a nuinsance."

Heiji grabbed the tiny wrist before that hand could land on the book. "Wait. I'm still thinking."

The elementary school boy heaved a sigh. "Alright." And tugged his arm back. "Oi." He tried again. "Let go of my arm, idiot."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"What are you trying to do now?" He pulled off his glasses with his free hand and rubbed at the ridge between his eyes.

Heiji's tanned skin struck a sharp contrast against Conan's youthful pale. There were calluses on his hands from Kendo, whereas Conan's hand was smooth and soft, unlined with use or age. He thought about Kazuha - their arguments over what to have for dinner, waiting at the school gates for each other, calling just to laugh about a particularly funny advertisement on television. It was so easy. She had always been so close, so near; his own face, his existence, mirrored in her eyes and shaped by her laughter, her tears, her random fits of violence. It was so easy.

The way Ran hugged Conan, tucking his head against her shoulder. Don't be scared, okay when in fact, she was terrified. The way Kudou's eyes shuttered, a gentle leaning-into the embrace, a slight turning-away of his face. His nervous laughter at the irony of the situation, and the way the truth was always on the verge of being shaped out loud, in words, never to be retracted.

As detectives, they revolved around the unveiling of deceit, stripping away the fog and clearing the path towards the truth. And yet, everyday Kudou woke up to a lie and lived through it. Just for her.

His hand engulfed Conan's.

He wondered how Kudou's hand would feel like. Maybe it was just as soft as this, even if it wasn't as small. That cheeky sneer easily replicated onto a child's face, the gleam in his eyes when the truth was whole and complete. The invisible burden strapped onto a petite back.

Kazuha, again, drifted up in his thoughts. Always present, a glimpse of constant comfort. Their daily bickering, exchanged smiles.

He looked down and met Kudou's gaze, peering up at him with a hint of annoyance. The life he had with Kazuha was full, brimming with everything he had ever wanted. Thought he had ever wanted. Until he bumped into Kudou, and the edges of his world fractured, cracked, opened up.

He let go and Conan pulled his arm back, muttering under his breath and rubbing at his wrist. "Really, what do you think you're doing?"

Heiji grinned. "I was thinking of my answer."

"So? What is it?"

"Hmm… nothing."

"What?"

"Even if the world ends tonight… I'll do nothing."

" 'tch." Conan rolled his eyes and lifted the book back up to his face. "What a waste of time."

Heiji stared out the window, at the flickering city lights and the mysteries hiding, lurking, waiting to be discovered. In the reflection on the glass, Kudou's mussed hair stuck up unevenly, lithe body wedged between two cushions. The clock ticked.

Even if the world had lost some of its radiance, even if it was ending now, he wouldn't mind staying just like this.