Note: I keep going back and forth with this, but I decided that due to the pacing, it's better for me to post this first part as a separate section. So here you go, the fic that I have been pulling my hair out for the past six months.

Many thanks to Taliya with the Beta-ing! Without her, this fic won't have made any sense...

-o-

Chapter 1

-o-

Smoke. Burnt. Charred. The stench of melted human flesh—

Conan was instantly overwhelmed by the horrifying smell as he swung open the door of the moving van he had been on, before it screeched to a complete stop. He could barely hold back the gag reflex that threatened to empty his stomach as he forcefully pushed away the—Horror! Panic! Fear!—and continued to dash towards the building…

… or what was left of the building after the inferno that had engulfed it earlier had died down.

Thinning streams of smoke rose away from the site as a gust of wind blew—the fire from the explosion had finally been put out not too long ago. What was left of the structure could barely support itself, with more than half of the building having collapsed into the mountain of rubble where rescuers were still digging through with shovels; huge clamps on cranes lifted the heavier, bulkier pieces to the side. Large portions of the broken concrete slabs were scorched black, the melted, bent steel beams testament to the ferocity of the flames that had devoured the building just hours earlier.

The right wing of the building that had hosted the pharmaceutical department, where they had started the infiltration operation from, had completely caved in. Nothing indicated its prior existence other than the piles of rubble that had been neatly set aside from earlier rescue attempts.

It had been hours since the explosion had occurred and the fire had roared into life… since the rescue efforts had started. Logically, Conan knew that no one could have survived the unexpected explosion, the menacing fire, and collapsing concrete.

But still, he held on to hope…

He paid no heed to the voices—the shriek from Jodie-sensei pleading for him to come back, the grip that he had managed to wiggle out of: strong yet lax—had that been Andre?—the grip that failed to drag him back into the vehicle.

Maybe he should have let them, because nothing could have prepared him for it.

Nothing at all.

It had left him blindsided when he had finally caught sight of the rigid—unmoving, ever again! No!—figures on the ground. All of them mutilated beyond recognition, lined up and out in the open, waiting to be packed into bags to be carted off to the morgue.

He had only recognised them from the tattered uniforms that had barely held together, the bullet proof vests that had holes mostly from chemical burns—concentrated hydrochloric acid—splattered across the fabric, shrapnel of broken pieces of glass and metal stuck out, protruding deep from the skin. Their skin... their skin... All with the same melted—

And he emptied his stomach—contaminating the crime scene, his mind helpfully supplied—heaving and coughing until every last drop of it came out.

He couldn't bring himself to look at them anymore.

It was his fault... It had been his plans that got those good—dead—men into this mess in the first place.

Conan, together with the FBI, PSB, and all the other agencies around the globe had conducted a discreet, world-wide take down of the Black Organisation permanently. The pharmaceutical company was supposed to be one of the easier locations to raid. So far, they had managed to secure their bases without much bloodshed, always managing to stop Them unawares, and hence, unable to enact any of their backup plans.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be this time. And it was supposed to be a simple operation.

The teams had had with them small cameras and microphones to allow for coordination. Everything had been going smoothly; they had disabled the camera and the security system, and had secured the civilians in the lower floors that were opened to the public.

There had been a panicked cry, followed by the static grey and white fuzz on all the screens before the video feeds to the operation had been suddenly cut off. The whole crew had descended into a whirlwind of panic and he himself into full-blown shock.

He had felt his heart sink to the bottom when the news had come a minute later that there had been an explosion.

It seemed they had not been so lucky as to catch the Black Organisation off guard this time.

It was hours later when they had been given the all clear to visit ground zero, and only after the blaze had subsided and the area mostly cleared.

It had been too late by then... only to find his worst fears had been founded.

A hazy fog shrouded his mind as he barely registered being led away by the arm—this time the grip was strong and firm; he would not be able to escape from Andre even if he tried—and back to the van. His gaze didn't leave the sight of the unnaturally still bodies until the van door closed on him, blocking his view.

If he had been there, he could have noticed something. He could have warned them. He could have saved them.

He should have foreseen this.

He had insisted on being personally involved in the operation in order to shut down the Black Organisation after they had arrested the one they called "Ano Kata", along with the higher ups. With them out of contact, the Organisation had fallen into disarray. They had thought that it should be safer now.

James Black had put his faith on him. Akai Shuichi had vouched for him. The men hadn't even blinked an eye at being instructed by a man physically ten years younger than he actually was.

And this was how he repaid them for their faith in him.

They had lost men before to this long, drawn-out war, but never this many in one fell swoop.

Never, until he had come along.

Nothing would ever make him able to forget this day.

It was, after all, entirely his fault.

-o-

It's a funny thing, to be attending your own funeral when you were still technically alive.

But here he was, dressed in all black, as Edogawa Conan—and physically twelve when he should have been twenty two—under the guise of Edogawa Conan to pay his final respects to his 'Shinichi-niisan'.

(Technically it was only memorial, since the 'body' was supposedly never found.)

He did not deserve it at all, not the facade of a hero's farewell that they insisted on staging, even if it was only an act to tie all the administrative loose ends.

James Black was at the front fiddling with the papers, just a space in front of the two rows of chairs that had been haphazardly arranged just that morning. Behind them was the media circus, with the cameramen doing their last minutes checks and reporters reading their scripts—even if Kudo Shinichi was old news, it was still something the newspapers and media were going to snap up—just another day in the field. In a few minutes, the FBI agent was going to be giving his eulogy of a young man's contribution to make this world a much better place.

What a farce...

The doors to the Kudo Mansion were opened for the first time in years. Dust still lingered in the air from the rushed cleaning job. Plastic furniture coverings had been hurriedly tucked behind the door that was ajar in one of the spare rooms, just in time before the first wave of people came to pay their respects.

All of this contributed to the heavy feeling of a house long abandoned, lending to the fact that it had been a very, very long time since Kudo Shinichi had last stepped foot into the house—

—since he'd actually walked this earth as Kudo Shinichi.

The fact that he could never, ever be Kudo Shinichi again hadn't sunk in until he had stepped back to his childhood home, highlighting all that he had lost. With no schemes or plans and the dangers of the Black Organisation a thing of the past, he had no choice but to deal with the emotional, immeasurable loss that crashed upon him like a tsunami.

Every step he took, every time his eyes scanned across the empty room while bringing out the chairs, every single moment in that house continued to draw forth uncontrollable shivers, as though a rusted fishing hook had been dug deep into his heart, tugging and inflicting piercing, electrifying pain throughout his whole body.

Five years too late, from the time he was shrunk until Black Organisation had finally been destroyed, dismantled, and dusted.

Five years too late, as he watched his former life slowly disintegrate, and there had been nothing he could do about it.

Five years too late, to take up the name Kudo Shinichi again.

Logically, this was the best outcome for him, being able to start anew as Edogawa Conan. Kudo Shinichi's life was already in ruins anyway. He had missed his graduation, with no chance to enter any university without a high school diploma… He had missed far too many milestones to ever be able to seamlessly insert himself back into society like he had initially planned.

Too many questions would have followed that no one could answer. Too many dangerous loose ends would have been created. Too many temptations for the remnant agents that evaded capture to come back for revenge—

"Conan-kun?" Startled out of his musing, he turned around to look at the worst reminder of his failures. Oh, that sweet melodies voice.

"Oh… Ran-neechan... You came?"

He had been living between the Kudo Mansion and the police station for the last couple of weeks as the had dust settled, tying up loose ends. This laughable 'memorial' had been a last minute concoction between the PBS and his parents. It had been put together as an afterthought while they had been putting the paperwork together to cement Edogawa Conan's identity as a legal, law-abiding citizen.

If he had had a choice, he wouldn't have wanted her to be here. He wouldn't have even told her about it. Unfortunately, his parents were in charge of the task of the inviting 'guests', and it would have been too out of place to exclude her from this farce.

He had hoped that after five years, she would finally be able to put him behind and move on with her life when he had finally cut off all contact with her three years ago. But her bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face dashed all of his hopes.

Even with all the anger, guilt, and regret he had tumbling within him, it could never compare to the guilt of what he had put Ran through all these years. All the pain and sacrifice, and he could not even tell Ran about it like he had promised himself to when it was over.

Not even to say one last good bye.

Even after all these years, he was still hurting her. That was all he had ever done to her.

Shinichi—No! He had to remember that he was Conan now, he was never going to be Shinichi anymore—Conan could not stand being so close her without feeling as though he'd been stabbed in the heart.

Not that he did not deserve it, especially since he was the cause her tears yet again.

(Useless. A total screw-up. Just a waste of space. Can't do anything right. He, he…)

"Co-Conan-kun?"

"Oh yes, t-they are about to start, just… head down to the lounge. You better get there right now."

"Okay, how about you...?"

"I'll just be here, helping Yukiko-neechan."

"Okay... okay." Far too absorbed in her own shock to notice his stutter and uncharacteristic sadness—after all, Edogawa Conan had only been seven when he had last seen his cousin. Realistically, he should not have been able to form a bond so deep as to be so depressed by his cousin's death—she bee lined to the room as instructed. And with that, like every other time, he could feel himself being left behind once again as he watched her silhouette disappeared into the room…

It was with reluctance that he tore his gaze away—long after Ran had disappeared from sight—when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up and saw his—no, Kudo Shinichi's mother—standing behind him.

With one look at his face, she ushered him into an empty room without a word. Once he could hear the door clicking shut, he sucked in a long inhale, stopping himself just in time before any tears could escape, choking on the overwhelming pain that should have had no impact on him physically.

No, he could not cry. He did not deserve to. He had done so much wrong. He had made so many mistakes.

Everyone had said that he lucked out, being given a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to start a new life in a clean slate.

But why did he feel like he had only gotten the short end of the stick?

-o-

"Edogawa-kun."

"Akai-san. Any news?"

"Everything in the building was burnt to ashes. And there's there nothing in the cloud on the information you're requesting."

"Nothing? Not even a hint or—"

"Nothing. Whatever project Sherry was working on, it seems that they put a stop to it when she left. We can't even find any traces of anyone else even assigned to that project."

"..."

"I am sorry, Edogawa-kun."

-o-

It was hard, so hard, to shrug everything off and get on with his life as it nothing life-changing, devastating, toe curling, had happened. Even if it was his life—Kudo Shinichi's life—that had been taken away from him right before his very eyes.

To the world, he was just an eleven-year-old elementary school kid with an eidetic memory, an intelligent young growing boy with superb observations skills who had proven his usefulness to the law enforcement, who had four great friends to help him solve real crimes with. He had the support of the great 'Sleeping Kogoro', and had connections with many departments within the police force.

But all Shini—No!, Conan! He was Conan now—all he could feel was the lethargy of putting on his mask everyday.

The float that had he had been clinging onto in order to keep himself afloat all this years—the hope that he would be able to go back to being Kudo Shincihi—had been snatched away from him. He had fallen into the deep end and was drowning, being pulled beneath the surface into the depths of the sea with the weight of all of the expectations and lies and his mistakes, barely able to catch a breath as it sunk him further and further.

Nothing could save him anymore. And there was nothing he could do about it...

"You're getting the kids down with your mood," Haibara hissed under her breath as she gave him a hard nudge in the ribs, abruptly bringing him out of his inner turmoil.

He gave a slight jerk, gone unnoticed from anyone else except his companion. He could feel his heart clench, ever so slightly, when he realised, yet again, how this nightmare was just the beginning for him—

No! Stop thinking about it!

"Oh, really? Is it another thing that 'Edogawa Conan' should be caring about?" He took a bite out of his bento, but all he could taste from the food was cardboard, like everything else that he had eaten. It took all he could to be as indifferent as possible, no point crying over split milk, not in front of this crowd where he would be grasping at straws to explain himself...

Despite his dismissive tone, he took a peek at the kids, and true enough, in between their own conversations, they all took turns taking a glance at him, checking in on him. Maybe he was wrong about them not noticing his flinching earlier. Worry was evident in their eyes, understanding, but not truly empathising with why he was so sad about the death of a man whom he hardly knew.

The kids were usually more subtle than this, something that they had evidently picked up after years of hanging out with a corpse magnet all the time. For them to be so blatant at it... His heart clenched at the thought… they would have been better of not worrying about me, not even knowing about me the in the first place—

"Well yes. Since you don't have any other choice." Though her glare was not at full force today, he noticed belatedly—as if she was hovering between being exasperated at his funk and sympathetic about his struggles. She knew what it was like to be stuck in a body ten years younger than it should have been—she was just like he was—but... she didn't, couldn't fully empathise with him…

Not when being Haibara Ai was the best thing that could have happened to her.

"Yeah... yeah, I don't. Don't I?" and went on to plaster his mask of cheerfulness and inquisitiveness that had become Conan's trademark.

He could just barely see the relief that exuded from the kids as he started giving his input in whatever topic they were discussing, though it barely registered in his psych.

Even though he should, he couldn't bring his heart to really, really care about anyone's worries anymore.

Even if he felt a little more of him being chipped awayeach day by this very existence.

But, just like Haibara said, he had no other choice.

He was Edogawa Conan now— and being Edogawa Conan meant living in this horrible, gut-wrenching mistake for the rest of eternity.

-o-

He took a much longer time to reach home from school, taking the long route home to try to shake off the heaviness in his heart.

Home was still the Mouri Detective Agency. After five years of living there, it had become inevitable that it felt more like home than the Kudo mansion had ever been.

The weather did not help matters. The unforgiving winter had taken a sudden turn to where the chill blew against him as he made his slow struggle back to the apartment, piercing cold, sharp, edges that sliced against his dry skin. The wind continued to howl, encouraging the raging dark clouds above to threaten a downpour at any given moment. Nothing could resist the relentless cold that weighed the whole populace down to the point where no one ventured out of his or her home unless it was strictly necessary.

(But that was why he had decided to take the detour, if only so he could pretend, for the next half an hour, that the shortness of breath, the itch under his skin, the never ending shivers, were all caused by the weather and had nothing to do with the physical manifestation of his mental state of mind.)

It would not surprise him that school will close in a couple of days, what with the way the weather had been threatening something worse to come. Probably meant that soon, he would have nothing to distract him from wallowing in his self-pity and—

Conan shook his head to clear his depressing thoughts, determined to keep his mood light. He should be done moping about. He should have come to terms being Edogawa Conan by now. It's been over five years, and he had much more to live for right now than ever before.

However, it still sounded empty to his ears, every time he repeated it to himself these past few weeks. Maybe if he repeated it often enough, he could find it himself to really believe in that sentence.

Maybe.

It had been a couple of weeks since the memorial. Ran had opted to stay at the Agency, especially since the winter break had started for her. It had been an agonising two weeks with her around, a throwback to a time when he had still held onto the false hope that things would resolve in a happy ending for him. As much as her presence pained him, he chose to stick around. Her presence was like a drug, even after all this years.

For the umpteenth time, his parents had offered to 'take' Edogawa Conan back home. There was no reason for him to stick around anymore. The initial reason for staying in the agency had long become moot. Kogoro-occhan probably still considered him a freeloader even though their relationship had improved over the past few years, particularly since Ran had headed to university and they now only had each other to rely on. After all that upheaval, he had wanted the familiarity of home to decompress and re-aligned himself before he made his next move. Perhaps it would be better to get out of the man's hair, especially since Kogoro-occhan had proven to be—

Shinichi stopped short as he came to the door of the agency. He could feel a lump instantly sticking in his throat, his mind ceasing on its tracks, his body following suit. He couldn't breathe, no matter how hard he tried to inhale as he stood frozen in front of the half ajar door.

The sight of Ran—with tears on her face that were still flowing down her chin, her lips closing in on Hondou Eisuke's lips, her hands gripping on his sweater for support—

He could not bring himself to look away as their lips touched. His whole body was petrified by the sight.

This… this wasn't what was supposed to greet him when he reached the Agency. It was the last thing he had expected.

He was not ready yet… never would be ready for this.

No matter how many times he had told himself that he had to let her go, that she had to move on, that he should not be holding her back, it did nothing to prepare him for the way the life was being squeezed from his heart, the way the air in his lungs burnt, the way he could no longer control the shakes, no longer able to contain the shivers down his spine. Thousands of needles pierced through his heart as it finally struck home exactly what he had lost. An invisible pressure constricted in his chest, weighing him down, down, down until he was crushed to dust...

And just like that, his whole world that he had been barely able to hold onto, collapsed on him all over again.

-o-

"What's wrong, Conan-kun?"

He looked up from the sofa, where he had been since she had left for dinner with Hondou earlier, and there she was, standing by the entrance of the Agency having just come back in her lovely coral cocktail dress that shimmered when she moved, accentuating her curves. Wearing minimal but artistically applied make-up that served to only highly her natural beauty, she appeared in front of him like an angel from the sky. It did not help that the dim glow from the streetlight below shone through the Agency's windows and gently illuminated her, giving a soft glow to her skin.

He briefly wondered how many people on earth possessed such a physical manifestation of their mistakes, reminding them so efficiently and so cruelly, like how she was for him whenever she graced him with her presence. Even after all these years—especially after this afternoon—it stung as much as it ever did.

"Nothing... why do you ask…?" He had managed to will himself to move from the doorway before they had discovered his presence. And after they had left for dinner, he had migrated to the sofa and stayed there until now. He could not help but take note of the slight grayish-beige smudge at the corner of her eyes that was almost covered by a reapplication, and it drove home the fact that she had cried earlier today—

"You sure?" Her eyes shone bright and blue. It was such a contrast to her tear-stricken face at the farce of the memorial and earlier today. Hopefully, it would be the last time she shed a tear for him. She deserved to be happy, to move on and have nothing to tie her down like the two years he had clung on to her before he finally broke down and "broke up" with her—when he had been cruel and naive in thinking that he had had a chance to return to being Kudo Shinichi and get on with life as if the shrinking had never happened.

"Yes, I'm sure." He had to be. Even though he knew that his attempt at an assuring smile did not reach his eyes. Nowhere near, in fact.

(Still lying after all these years? Looks like you never learn.)

But she bought it anyway as she patted him on his head and told him head to bed early.

His heart crushed into itself. Even though this was exactly what he had intended, and as much as he knew how contradictory he was, it still clawed hard on his soul that she… had not been able to see through his lies and mask, as if she had never cared about him.

Nevermind, he thought as he shook his head before he lifted himself off the sofa and made his way up stairs.

She deserves to be happy. That's all that matters in the end.

(See, they do not care of you. They never did.)

-o-

"Kudo-kun.."

"It's Conan-kun. Haven't you heard, Hattori? Shinichi-niisan is dead."

"K—...I am sorry."

"Don't be."

"I—I know the data disappeared with the fire, but can't the little neechan still work on it—"

"There's no point."

"What? B-but don't you—"

"Kudo Shinichi is dead; nothing can bring him back. Better to leave things as it is."

"Kudo..."

"And we should be letting her live her life, not stuck inside a lab to work on something that I can't take in the end. Even if she had succeeded, what can Kudo Shinichi come back to? It's better this way, Hattori... niisan. Maybe now you can finally remember to call me Conan-kun, ne?"

-o-

He could see Kogoro-occhan stealing glances at him from across the table. His attempts were increasingly indiscreet as dinner progressed further into the night. The television flickered in the background, though neither of them paid much attention to the show.

Well, Shin—Conan could not blame him, since he had not taken more than a couple of bites from his own dinner.

It's been a month since that funeral. Two weeks since he had accidentally witness that... episode... with Ran and Hondou. One week since Ran had headed back to university as the winter holiday ended.

Ever since then, he had been struggling to keep his spirits up. It just was not worth the effort anymore, to put up a front to make sure everyone else around was not worried about him.

Fundamentally, human beings only cared about themselves and how that affected them at the end of the day.

Right?

He looked back at his bowl. This time, he barely managed to stop himself from dry heaving—No, not in front of Occhan. His stomach churned again, though he knew it had nothing to do with the food in front of him.

(They don't care...They don't.)

"I'm not hungry," he announced as he took his untouched bowl into the kitchen and then headed straight to his room. Behind him, he could hear Kogoro-occhan grumbling under his breath, presumably about all the effort he had wasted in preparing dinner for such an ungrateful brat like him, or maybe grumbling about how he should have gone back to wherever he had come from by now.

(No one cares, after all.)

-o-

"Oi! Kudo! How's life been?" Hattori's voice was deliberately light and cheerful, with an undertone of concern and irritation, seeing at this was the twentieth time Hattori had called before Shinichi could finally bring himself to answer it. And that was just today.

That much he had been able to pick out. However, to be honest, he did not know what to do it the information.

(Useless skill, not like it had ever been useful when it really mattered.)

Hattori still refused to call him Conan-kun… and every time he heard that god-forsaken name... Hattori just did not understand how much the name was like a knife to his bleeding heart.

"It's alright. Same old, same old." Conan decided to settle with that answer, not giving an explanation to the other two hundred and forty-three text message that he had not even read yet, let alone replied back.

"Really? Oh! Eh… It's about the same here too… Hmmm... Kudo," Heiji was clearly struggling to keep the conversation afloat. Conan wondered briefly why he had bothered to call, seeing as he had not actually had a reason for it. Usually by now the Osakan would have launched into his usual tirade of cases he had solved, or teased him about one thing or the other, or... just something.

(As if he really cared. No one cares about you, remember? No one.)

Conan tightened his grip on his phone. "It's really about time you stop calling me 'Kudo'."

"Eh? But…"

"Kudo Shinichi is dead."

(They only pretend to care because it what they are socially supposed to do.)

"But K…"

"Whatever. I have to go... Hattori-niisan," and he immediately ended the call.

Shinichi threw the phone back to the bottom of the drawer again, where it had taken up residence for the past month.

(But do they actually care? No, of course no.)

The phone vibrated again a few seconds later. Conan dutifully ignored it. Just as he had done for the past hour since Hattori had started calling.

Conan remained unmoved on his bed—her bed—breathing in her scent that still lingered in the sheets, feeling utterly numb in a way that had nothing to do with the season, seeing as it was just turning into spring. He had taken up Ran's room since she left for university and now stayed at the dorms. While it had initially been a reprieve from Occhan's snoring, now though, he did not want to look too closely as to why he was torturing himself like this...

The phone vibrated again, shaking the bedside table ever so slightly.

You would think he could learn to call him 'Conan' by now. After five long years.

(Remember, no one cares about you.)

But then again, he probably only cared about Kudo Shinichi's supposed deductive prowess, right? Wasn't that why Hattori had decided to seek him out in the first place anyway?

(No one cares.)

Not that he could offer even that to Hattori anymore, seeing as he had proven to be useless on the front. Those dead FBI men could attest to it.

So why did Hattori even bother the call?

(No one.)

-o-

It had crept up on him like a snake slithering up to its prey. Slow, steady, silent. And before he knew it, it had sunk its poisonous teeth into his flesh, releasing all its toxic energy into him, slowly draining the life out of him until all he was left with was skin and bones, and nothing to sustain himself. The emotional pain burnt, long and drawn out, ensuring it covered every inch of his soul. Nothing could stop the blood leaking out of your still-beating heart, squeezing every last drop of that elixir of life from you with every pump it made.

There was a word for this... this feeling. However, for the life of him, he just could not remember, even though it was at the tip of his tongue.

Not today, at least, it slipped right out of his hand like water when he tried to grab at it.

It was a quarter past nine in the morning; the sun shone right into the room through the window and right onto the bed—onto his face—reminding him that he should have been in school by now. It blinded him whenever he so much as tilt his head a little. So he remained still, keeping his eyes shut as he felt his whole body tingle with the imaginary weight of lethargy and guilt and pain and loneliness, sinking him deeper and deeper until he couldn't breath, right through the bed.

Her bed.

Just thinking about it was like having another arrow piercing through his heart all over again.

A future. His future as Kudo Shinichi to be more precise...

(Why did he stay here anyway… his thoughts slipped through his grasp before they could fully form.)

He should be just graduating university, in his first year at the police academy, even. Or maybe globe trotting, answer the calls of people clamoring for his skills and expertise to solve the unsolvable cases. Or going down on one knee proposing to the love of his life...

Just anywhere other than being stuck ten years behind his own age, going through mind-numbing middle school, wasting his life away.

Every inch of this room just reminded him of his failures, of all that he had lost. More so than being back in the Kudo mansion then, pounding on him, emphasising how a single mistake had ruined his life.

He had even forgotten the reason why he had not taken up on his parents' offer to move to America with them. He should have taken them up on the offer.

Not that it mattered, in the grand scheme of things. Edogawa Conan was meant for him to slither into society, to hide in plain sight. To be invisible, even if he was here; to be soundless, even as he whispered guidance to people's lives, providing justice for the wronged.

If only he had not remained invisible and soundless after all was said and done.

(Selfish, ungrateful brat…)

But it did not matter anyway. Edogawa Conan wasn't real. Just like how Kudo Shinichi no more real than his pseudonym.

(That's right you aren't real.)

Edogawa Conan. Kudo Shinichi. Neither names belonged to him.

(You don't deserve it)

Who was he? What was his name?

(As if you mattered enough to have one, you useless piece of shit.)

He did not have the answer to that anymore.

As he lay on the bed, now twenty minutes past nine in the morning, the sun's rays beat down on him. He was supposed to be in school now, but he was here, motionless on his bed.

(Her bed? His bed? Does it really matter?)

Everything would have been so much simpler, so much better, if instead, he had drawn his last breath that day at Tropical Land all those years ago.

(Better dead than to be so useless.)

This nightmare that he was fighting to get out off… he was never going to get out of it... if only he could just stop it. And get away from it all.

(End it.)

Get away from this life.

(End it.)

Release him from his pain.

(End it! End it right now!)

...

But not today at least.

He hardly had the energy to lift his hands, let alone to get out the bed to do anything else.

For today, at least.

Maybe another time, perhaps. When he finally could muster the energy to reach for the pen knife that he had been keeping handy in his drawer—initially placed there for his own protection, to draw out the blood like how his heart was bleeding out his sorrow with agonising pain. Maybe he would do something then.

When he finally had the energy to finally break free from this never-ending nightmare.

But just not today, perhaps some other day.

(Yes...End it...End it...)

(End it…)

-o-

"Ai-chan. You know what's wrong with Conan-kun, don't you?"

"Yoshida-san…?"

"Can't you tell us, Haibara-san?"

"Yeah Haibara! It's been so long since Conan has been himself. Come on, tell us!"

"It... I can't tell you. It's not my secret to tell—"

"Ai-chan!" "Haibara!" "Haibara-san!"

"Look guys, it's not that I don't want to help him. Don't you think Hakase and I haven't tried our best to help him?"

"But... is there really nothing that we can do?"

"No... Just... just be there for him... that's all we can do."

After all, the only who can help him is himself... if he ever let himself be saved.

-o-

TBC

Note: Please review and let me know what you think!