Withering Mop

Kitsimura-sensei was animatedly waving her hands around, eagerly going on about some schmaltzy poetry, but it's the last subject of the day, and Christmas was just around the corner. The incoming break must've dazed everyone, rendering them unable to pay attention. It didn't stop them, however, from speaking to each other in hushed, somber breaths. English was boring; gossip wasn't. It was simple math when you got right down to it.

Aoko sighed, tapping her fingernails impatiently against her desk and throwing a sideward glance at the seat right next to hers. Her best friend looked bored, balancing a pencil at the tip of his nose. In front of him was a bouquet of flowers, which didn't look like he had plans of keeping anytime soon.

As if he could sense her stare, he looked right at her, still managing to juggle the pencil upright. Then, noticing where she was looking, the innocent look twisted into a teasing smirk.

"Jealous I've got admirers, Aoko?"

Absolutely not, she thought, turning away to stare at the chalkboard in indignation. She heard him chuckle behind her, but decided not to react. She should be paying attention, for her own good if nothing else. Today's discussion was going to be in their midterms, and unlike Kaito, she was no genius. She knew better than to speak with him during one of Kitsimura-sensei's classes. She learned her lesson last time, when they were asked to go outside and face the wall, like children, because of one of Kaito's milder pranks.

"Oi, Aoko?" He leaned towards her, left arm resting on her chair. She ignored him, and pretended to jot down notes. His eyes narrowed, the skin between his brows crinkling in that endearing way – not that she'll ever admit that. "You're still mad, aren't you?"

The consequences would be dire if she replied, and she knew it. But Kaito had a tendency to be such an insufferable baboon that sometimes, it was just too hard to pretend that he wasn't even there. She glanced at the corner of the classroom where the mop lay – withering and old and unused. She thought back to the last time she had chased him around with it. She had missed his face by a few inches, and she swore to hit him next time around.

Next time around didn't come. And at that moment, she considered fulfilling that promise at that very moment, but she shouldn't. She couldn't.

Kaito leaned back on his chair, brows knitted tight, finger under his chin. She knew that look far more than she knew the back of her own hand, because it would always follow up with some bizarre little magic trick made to either cheer her up or piss her off. What he did next, however, wasn't magic. He looked at her, voice as soft as snowflake to avoid grabbing the attention of their teacher.

"I really am sorry, Aoko, that I couldn't spend as much time with you as before," he whispered, tone suddenly very serious. "I have…a job. And it can't be delayed."

Her hands clenched into a fist, so tight that they trembled. "Stop," she hissed with such intensity that Kaito actually flinched. "You should quit that job, Kaito. It's dangerous."

"Aoko?" Keiko asked. The girl, who was seated on the other side of her, had leaned in, looking worried.

"I'm fine," she replied, ignoring Kaito altogether.

Kitsimura-sensei gave them a seatwork later on, to be worked on by pairs. Aoko was just about to pack her notebooks when she felt a nudge on her shoulder.

"Want to be partners?" Keiko asked, smiling. Hakuba stood a few seats down the aisle, stiff and stable amongst the shambling classmates, staring at her with a strange look on his face.

She shook it off and turned to Keiko, shrugging. "Okay."

Their teacher passed around a flimsy sheet of paper containing several questions about their lecture, and Aoko didn't get a single one right. Keiko, fortunately, had been paying attention. She wasn't mad at Aoko either; quite the opposite, actually. On the last question, she looked up at her from beneath her glasses, eyes showing genuine concern. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

She paused, momentarily, listening to Kaito pop some of his weird whatchamacallits from across the classroom. It was loud against the subdued classroom murmurings, but Keiko wasn't minding him – focus purely on her friend.

"Yeah," Aoko replied, briskly, before darting the attention back to the activity. The remaining hours of the day passed like a blur. By the time class was done, it was raining – a strange, gloomy occurrence in that jolly season. She stayed, alone, volunteering to clean up for Naoko – the girl that was supposed to be on duty for that day. She had a family dinner that evening, and she was looking for someone to trade places with.

Aoko volunteered on a whim. No matter how much everyone protested, claiming that she needed to rest, to stay at home, she insisted. She had to do it. She really had to.

"Aoko-kun."

Hakuba was beside her. She almost squeaked at the sound of his voice, because last time she checked, the classroom was empty. Everyone had filed out, and she was alone. Keiko was standing beside him, all silence and stillness, but not because she was shy, and Aoko knew it.

She also knew that Hakuba was a mess.

His uniform was unbuttoned, dark rims accumulating beneath his dead-tired eyes. Kaito commented offhandedly about his condition earlier that day, wondering if he was up all night thinking about the Kid.

"Aoko, are you alright?" Keiko asked, softly. Then Aoko realized that her clammy hands were hovering over the mop, staring at them with a strange tingle in her nose. How long had she been standing there, doing just that?

"Fine," she murmured, drawing back.

"No really, Aoko-kun –"

"I said I'm fine, Hakuba-kun! Just leave me alone!"

She wasn't looking at them, but she heard a sharp intake of breaths. She could imagine them flinching, looking at each other, and then turning around. She listened to them walk away. She listened to the sliding door shut. Their footsteps were muffled behind the doors, but she heard it disappeared down the hallways.

"Aoko, what happened?"

She closed her eyes, and turned around to find Kaito sitting on his chair, head propped lithely against his hand. He stared at her, scrutiny penetrating right into her soul. "Why is everyone so down?"

"It's a long story."

"Tell me?"

She bit her lip, and shook her head slowly. There was an unaccounted pause, long enough to make her look up.

And he wasn't there. An illusion.

For a second, she panicked. But then she heard a shuffle; the sound of Kaito's hands when they are pulling things out of his sleeves.

"You know, Aoko," – his voice came from her left, sharp and as clear as daylight – "I won't judge."

And suddenly, she was kissing petals. Kaito had flipped his wrists and presented a blue rose right in front of her – just like he always does. And she stared. She stared at it, and then at him. Her eyes softened at that silly, lopsided grin, because it was so familiar – tugging harshly at her heartstrings and tingling her nose once more.

"I'll see you later at dinner? To try that hamburger steak you said you've fixed up?" he said, just like he did the last time, before running off to Kid's heist. He didn't even give her the chance to ask him what was wrong, to tell him that she knew! That she's known for awhile, because during the time that the snipers were becoming more prominent, she witnessed a worn-out Kaitou Kid fall on Kuroba Kaito's balcony, and limp towards his bedroom.

That day he ran off, she let him go, believing in his words.

Aoko's hands flew up to he quivering lips, tips of fingers forming a triangle beneath her nose. The tears were running quickly now, hot and thick. "No you won't," she gasped. Because that evening, Kuroba Kaito never came home to try her hamburger steak. That evening, Kaitou Kid was shot dead in place of her father.

Author's Note:

Holy crap! Okay, I've been editing the summary of this story for the longest time, and now I'm gonna edit the actual stoy too! And I realised later on that, "Hey! Maybe this cad be kinda...somehow be related to A Bleak Night," so it's up to you to decide if this is the sequel or not.

Anyways, now you can feel free to drop me into a pot of burning oil, if you please!