A/N: This fic's supposed to be for Valentine's Day, but I got caught up in other stuffs and well.. here it is, two days late. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan.

It was tucked inside the pocket of Heiji's winter coat.

He took it out when a case led him and Shinichi to Kamikawa subprefecture in the northern region of Hokkaido, where a thick snowfall surprised them right after they had busted a drug operation which involved having tons of pot worth millions on their hands returned to the authorities.

The piece of paper was crumpled from years at the bottom of his pocket, but Heiji instantly recognized the orange hue of Kazuha's favorite text paper. The sharp stab in his heart surprised him—he thought he would be able to stop living with the guilt and the grief by now, but seeing his name penned down in Kazuha's slanted handwriting made him almost double over in pain.

He covered his mouth with one hand to stop himself from screaming, the other fingering the paper over and over, causing even more creases.

She had a habit of leaving him notes, but her favorite papers were reserved for special occasions. This one had to be from the time he went skiing at Otsu with some friends and had to leave her behind to study for an exam over Valentine's Day. He had returned with Shiga Prefecture's special wagashi dumplings, and she must have thought he had found it. The note had been in his coat pocket for more than a year, and a part of him did not want to read what Kazuha had written.

It hurt too much, picturing her sitting at her desk, chin propped in the palms of her hand, pen balanced between her nose and puckered lips, trying to think of what to say to him.

Anything she had written was meaningless, now that she was dead, and it was because of what he had brought down on her, ripping to shreds the semblance of normality he had built for himself just after he thought everything was over.

The FBI had miscalculated, and they had all jumped too early to conclusions. They hadn't seen the underlying plan the Organization had thought out so thoroughly. Leaving her in Osaka would be the best choice, or so he thought. Who would've thought that both his and her father would be involved? Who would've suspected someone from the Osakan police force to have anything to do with the Organization?

Right then, just when the all too familiar guilt threatened to engulf him again, the door to the hotel room opened to let in a draft of icy air and a scowling Shinichi.

"There's a fucking blizzard out there. I nearly froze my balls off out there, Hattori, these crab omelets you insist on having better be worth it!"

Although he had tucked the note into his pocket as soon as the door opened, Heiji's posture must have given it away to Shinichi, because he stopped ranting and sat down opposite Heiji, fixing the other detective with an inquiring stare.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost–wait, did you?" The panic in Shinichi's eyes was real, although his voice remained flippant, "Did you see them?" Now that was unlikely, as every single one of them had been put behind the bars. Heiji sighed and shook his head, feeling too raw to speak.

Instead, he handed Shinichi the note, avoiding his eyes and fixating on a spot on the none-too-clean carpet.

"Is this a blackmail letter? Wait—you got a love letter? You really don't need to be bragging about this to me, Hattori, I've been getting these since... Oh fuck." His teasing died down as soon as he opened the letter. Heiji still did not look up, but he could hear the rustling of paper and a sharp intake of breath from Shinichi.

"...Do you want me to read it to you? "

"Please. I... I can't." Heiji hardly recognized his own voice, it sounded like that of a dead man. He could feel Shinichi scrutinizing him, probably trying to decide whether there was any chance he could talk him out of this. Apparently, Heiji must have looked more determined than he felt because after a while, Shinichi started reading. His voice was gentle and he refrained from any smartass remarks about its sappiness, simply reading the note from start to finish:

Heiji ya ahou,

I really should hate ya fer leavin' me alone like this. After all, what good is a best friend if he's not around on a particularly gloomy Sunday? Not to forget that it's Valentine's Day! It woulda been more okay if ya had left me when I have a boyfriend who could worship me as the love of his life on this sacred day, instead of leavin' me alone when I'm lonely and miserable, and havin' a make-up exam the next day just doesn't make it any better. But nevertheless I forgive ya, Hattori Heiji, with all my heart—which just goes to show what a terrific catch I am and how lucky ya are to have me in yer life! The thin' is, though, and that's the reason why I'm not mad at you—so am I.

Havin' ya in my life has been both the worst and the best thing that has ever happened to me. No matter what will happen, how irritating and frustrating you are (have always been, and I'm pretty sure you'll get all the more irritating and frustrating as ya get older. I'm somehow convinced that no one else could put up with ya. Heh—Good luck finding a girlfriend, seriously.)—I will always be glad to have known ya.

I don't know what has gotten into me today as I'm writing such a sappy letter fer ya. Must've been a Valentine bug. Just don't come back with a broken leg (or worse, two broken legs.) I don't fancy being late for school every morning just because you gotta crutch along slowly.

Kazuha

P.S. Sweets to make amends.

After Shinichi had fallen silent, Heiji could not move—he could hardly breathe. He felt chilled to the bone and more alone than he had when he was thrown into the open sea.

He did not feel the bed dip, but suddenly Shinichi was there, next to him, holding him in an awkward but earnest embrace. Heiji heard a loud sob and realized only a heartbeat later that he was the one who was making this animalistic noise that shook his whole body. Shinichi's arms were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"Don't get used to this, Hattori," he heard Shinichi's voice dimly. "This is still not a hugging show."

In between painful sobs, a dry laugh escaped Heiji. It hurt his throat and constricted his chest almost more than the crying, but it was okay. Through eyes grainy with tears, Heiji groped for the letter lying discarded on the bed sheet.

He tried to fix it, but the stubborn creases refused to be smoothed out.

P.S. Kept it short and not too angsty :'D Thanks for reading!