Chapter 2: Confirmation of the Conclusion

Warning: This story does include vulgar thoughts and actions. Please proceed at your own accord.

Just so you know, this story is NOT Third Person Limited.

It was quite early in the morning, if the birds' "annoying" chirping, causing surrounding people aggravation, was anything to go by. The sky was a light tint of blue, indicating it was around 7 am, the beautiful touch of fuchsia in the stratosphere also signifying early April.

Although, dormant wasn't something to label the dark-haired boy reclining within his futon, being solely focused on the ceiling in front of him. He was beyond conscious, have been for the past three days now, but even so, he remained unconditionally indefatigable. Yes, despite that "event" that occurred just last night amidst himself, the bathroom, and an aciculate edge, he had an immense amount of energy left. In fact, in the previous present time, he had so very much craved for continuation, desired to maintain the blade gouging at his already red-stained flesh, but he willed himself to a stop. It definitely wasn't in his planner to be found out so easily, especially if it was an encounter among someone and his corpse. That had meant that, in the end, he had to, unfortunately, undergo the prodigious pressures belonging to those malicious convictions. Every single one assaulting him with uncivilized principles without his consent.

He opposed that fraction of freedom.

"Conan-kun!" His friend (and current guardian) called. Immediately following her voice were the resonations of footsteps, evidently identifying as her own, approaching at an alarming rate. In a panic, he shut his eyelids, trying to seem as if he were asleep in the most nonchalant way possible; turning to his side, facing opposite so as to conceal his face from the door, all in a relaxed manner.

He inwardly cursed, momentarily distressed at the sight of his glasses situated on his nose and the feeling of a stray pencil poking at his arm. When in the shit did that get there?

"Conan-kun?" The sound of the door opening ventilated. Having said that, he didn't dare risk any chances by peeking because of his burning curiosity. Nonetheless, moderate strides made their way towards him and the sensation of her gaze caused him to fight down a shudder. An unessential hand placed itself on top of his shoulder, shaking as if to "awaken" him.

"Conan-kun, you're going to be late," she whispered right beside his ear. He felt as though he was compelled to blush, but he didn't. Those spiteful words suddenly absconding back into his mind.

"You don't deserve anything."

He decided to act in a childish fashion, in the impression of demerit exposure if he didn't. As if, without the affectation, he would be left vulnerable and prone to, not only Ran but, everything and anything.

"Mnn," he moaned, feigning sluggish exhaustion. "Ran-... neechan?"

"You need to get up, Conan. I made breakfast." He nodded in response, genuinely stretching before respectfully (never piss off a Ran) asking her to leave. After all, he was "awake now."

Complying with his aspiring wishes, she left the room, (thankfully) closing the door behind her.

He stood, stretching and yawning one last time before ambulating to dress, not bothered enough to take a shower. He adorned himself in a white button-up shirt and gray jeans, quickly checking the temperature before slipping on a black, zipper-up sweater.

He then progressed over to the restroom and brought over a stool to accompany him to the sink. In doing so, he thoroughly cleansed his mouth. Spitting out access paste, he rinsed his crevice before making the disinfecting mouthwash do its job. Having completed this daily routine, he stepped off the footrest, placing it back to its rightful compartment, before returning to his and (unfortunately) Kogoro's resting place to collect his belongings; machinery and bag.

He was about to make his way downstairs when, suddenly, he suspended his movements. Not a millisecond later did he accelerate towards the restroom once more.

He held a hysterical expression, jaw clenched in a distraught manner. He negligently shot open the domestic and all-too-familiar drawer from under the sink. Expeditiously snatching the- his razor blade, he swiftly wrapped it in a handkerchief before situating it inside his left, jacket pocket. Only then did he finally make his way back in front of the stairway, leisurely, but still cautiously so as to not trip, promenading to the first floor.

Upon reaching the designated area, he took in a few details.

Kogoro was settled in front of the television, immodestly laughing away. Simultaneously, he was vehemently chewing his homemade breakfast, drinking his nearly daily portions of beers, repulsively spitting chunks in every direction.

Ran watched in her very own repugnance, her nose scrunching upwards clearly expressed that fact. Although, she didn't waste her time to scold her father, it was was a futile attempt anyway. Instead, she shook her head in shame, finally deciding to notice Conan, who was simply standing there; his usual dead-panned expression in action

"Hurry up, Conan-kun. Before it gets cold." He complied, not wanting to bother Ran any further than he has to. After all, he was already so much of a nuisance staying at this household, no less having her care of his well-being. So, it was preferable if he behaved, right?

He ascended up the chair, accommodating himself on it before gazing into the food plated in front of him. The steam leaving the tray of eggs and toast, followed by a bowl of rice, indicated that it was nowhere near converting into cold food. Ran was overexaggerating… again.

Moving on, though, he felt… taunted. It was strange, he was feeling mocked by- no, not Ran but, by rice and eggs. He was definitely going insane…

He lifted the bowl of rice and his chopsticks, gingerly saying his thanks and proceeding by deliberately eating the meal bit by bit. He chewed, almost unnoticeably reducing his pace until he decisively came to a permanent stop.

This wasn't overlooked by Ran, who immediately ceased her very own consumption to face the other, quite predictably too. She produced a look of both worry and annoyance, it was (fortunately) mostly the former.

"What's wrong?" She asked, already losing patience. In all honesty, she just wanted the "child" to consume his food before it truly does become frigid. It didn't matter to her if she just got it ready only a moment ago, it was no good eating frozen breakfast

A minute transpired until he raised his head to confront her. He was evidently disturbed by something, creating an anxious sensation within Ran. She couldn't help but wonder, should he go back to bed?

"I'm not really hungry…" it sounded more like a question than anything. Nonetheless, she took the previous speculation back.

He couldn't help but shiver under her burning gaze and combustible patience. A dangerous, threatening hand "gently" established itself ontop his own; he trembled over an entity beyond her fury and moreover because of that venomous stare.

"You're not?" He gulped at the menacing tone. Even so, he dared to stand his ground on his own perception and answer his friend truthfully.

"I'm not…" He could only watch each unspecified moment her eye twitched while keeping her not-so-gracious smile on. Whenever she did do that small action, he was repleted with incomparable terror.

"Conan-kun," she started, obviously trying to force the smile to an impossible extent. "I made it just for you, and you know we don't waste food in this house." Both of her statements may be indisputable facts, but he really wasn't hungry, probably just… dehydrated?

"Ran-neechan, I'm really no-" A nefarious glare. Oh-so-very sinister eyes cut him off, promising nothing short of regret from anyone that opposed them. He shuddered, overwhelmed by those dominate eyes digging into him.

"Eat it." He obliged. He did so leisurely, reluctant about the whole situation, but, one look at his friend prevented any sort of freedom of speech. Despite willingly (forcing) himself to eat, in the end, he felt sick over… what?

Exactly, he genuinely didn't understand why he wasn't hungry. Wouldn't a person usually feel at least a tad bit starved not having slept? So, why wasn't he? He knew for sure he wasn't ill, so, why'd he feel like skipping today's meal? Why in the hell would he refuse the cooking Ran made? Perhaps he was overrea-

He was incapable of completing that thought since his guardian made it upon herself to take his dishware, both half-finished. Glancing at her direction, he saw her give him a concerned look before she headed towards the kitchen, a platter of their combined dishes balanced in her hands.

He was confused. He was questioning if he had done something for her to react as so. Well… he did protest against eating her food, he also only ate half of it too… Ack! Perhaps he showed it on his face- his distress? Well, damn.

Choosing to ignore his friend's worrying, he returned to his previous speculation.

Alright, what was I saying again? Oh yeah, why am I not hungry?

Finding no answer, he concluded he was simply overreacting. It really must've been nothing. It was just one of those very rare occasions he wasn't feeling up to eating.

If that truly were the case, though, what was this unsettling feeling he had?

There was no point in having Ran worry over him if it certainly were nothing, thus, he decided to label it as so. Either way, it was more than not beneficial if he didn't involve his friend with his problems. He was authentic about not wasting her time, especially if he was at fault. In result, he concluded it was preferred to keep any sort of conflicts he carried on himself at all times. Even without his previous kept affection for the female, he wished not to endanger her, or anyone else in the matter. It was practically a liability to maintain everyone's safety. It definitely isn't essential to involve Ran and others into worthless situations, nor' was it vital to hinder their energy and/or kindness.

He just didn't deserve that.

Conan swiftly put on his child persona before approaching his current guardian. She was obviously startled by the sudden contact amidst a hand and her leg, having yelped a bit too loudly, but neither commented on that. Instead, she ceased her scrubbing on a plate to give him her full attention, causing him to inwardly wince in return due to guilt. He grieved over his actions for bothering her but continued the purpose of obtaining her awareness in the first place.

"R-Ran-neechan, I'm sorry about breakfast. I promise to eat lunch properly," he spoke, and although he may have not believed his very own words, he still bowed down in an apologetic manner. The pleadings in his tone also weren't his usual act, it was more honest than he had meant for it to be.

He nearly sighed in relief as soon as he caught her adoring, yet, microscopic smile, albeit through his bangs since he remained at a low angle. Although, the angle of his body was less exaggerated this time around. The mere sight- no- thought of her smile still made his heart warm, even while lacking his past passion. That description also went for her eyes, an astounding amount of sincere care and love within them could bring him to tears.

He was enticed to give one of his very own tender expressions, when he, without warning, felt his blood run cold, dangerously so, and he couldn't avoid shivering in a cold sweat before he returned to his normal temperature. Having been caught off-guard, he didn't have time to prepare himself and cover his emotions, so, Ran, to his disappointment, noticed his gestures.

When she questioned him, he had no choice but to tell her the truth. It wouldn't change anything, anyways.

"Ah, it's nothing. I just got really cold all of a sudden. Weird, huh?"

A small, and dare he says, incoherent smirk made its way on her face, and he managed to catch it prior to when it shifted into an amused smile.

"See, Conan? You'll get (a) cold if you don't eat," she said quite proudly. It was significantly undeniable that she believed he would consider her remark, so, out of slight sympathy, he followed along with her antics. Of course, he knew better (who the hell do you think he is?), but he'd rather get past this irrelevant matter and not bother the female an awful lot, much less make her angry.

"Hai, Hai," he impassively replied. He left the conversation, not giving Ran a choice in the matter, and hurried towards the cleaning utensils as a distraction.

For starters, he grabbed a spray and paper towel(s) to wipe down the table until it contained nothing but the absolute shine the boy magically produced. Then, he lifted the chairs, with whatever strength he wondrously had at the moment, and arranged them away from the room, only after that did he make a move to clutch the broom and the dustpan from its rightful place. Subsequently, he swept up every single speck of dust on the floor until even the people lacking socks were capable of sliding across it. Finally, he returned the chairs to where they belonged before deciding to decorate the table with a small vase of a few flowers, followed by medium and small sized (vanilla and hazelnut-scented) candles (one each), lighting it up to fight against a certain man's smoking. Speaking of which, the table would be described as spotless if it weren't for those damned cigarette marks displaying itself hopelessly on the poor, damaged counter. (What a shame, indeed!)

"Wow!" The brunette exclaimed, the yelling being something that the younger hadn't anticipated beforehand, so he had (accidentally) let out a (girly) yelp. Fortunately (or so he believed), the female didn't notice while she was preoccupied with her admiration to do so (again: or so he thought).

Her eyebrows were raised, unambiguous stars in her eyes and an inevitable (motherly) content within her smile. Although, for clarification (not that she doubted her responsibility's ability), she reached out her hand to touch the table, sliding a finger across it and bringing it back into her vision. Not a crumb left, holy s- "Amazing…" she began, facing Conan with a grin, who did the same (just, with less satisfaction and more… tenderness(?)). "You know," a giggle escaped her, slightly confusing her companion. "You'd make a great husband… or wife!" she quickly added. "No discrimination.~"

The expression she held didn't seem to waver in any sort of kidding manner, causing his face to redden as his right eye twitched a bit.

How could she say that? Although grateful as he may be, it was kind of… strange. It was appreciated that she didn't seem to hold any signs of homophobia, but he had such a strange mental image. Seeing himself in a wedding dress (as Shinichi) was odd, no less with The Kaito KID… kissing. The thought of himself with Kaito, disguise or not (yes, he knew) didn't exactly disgust him, but rather, it was slightly disturbing. Yeah… he didn't wish to dwell on that subject any longer…

"We shoul-" He was cut short, completely interrupted by his friend's… talking.

"It's totally fine if you marry a boy," she stated seriously, abruptly ending up laughing to herself, as if she were thinking of something...bizarre. Oh gosh, who lowered the temperature? "I'm almost 100% confident you'd be the bride." No matter how much he wanted to protest, he had thought the same thing… Ah, but the febricity… "Imagine you and Mitsuhiko! It'd be so adora-!"

"Ran-neechan!" He drastically blurted out, red completely painting his structure; up to his ears down to his neck. Hell, the other could've sworn she saw a bit of pink polishing his hands as well.

Unconsciously, he let out a whimper, inwardly and intuitively blaming it on his child persona as he simultaneously avoided the truth. Whilst flustered, he still managed to say, "We're going to be late!" Smooth, right? Real smooth.

"Ack!" She took out her phone and brought it to her vision, eyes widening in realization. "You're right. Quickly, put on your shoes." He went and did just that, sighing and thanking whatever lasting luck had allowed him to escape this time.

During his task, he heard some shuffling coming from his current guardian's direction, specifically the kitchen. It's most likely lunch. He proved himself right once he caught sight of the bentos tightly grasped in one of her hands while the other held her school bag. She handed him one of the two packages before placing the second inside her bag, having to shuffle things around for the much-needed space.

In doing so, the pair walked out the door, immediately feeling a refreshing breeze past their exposed skin, complimenting the warmth of the sun poking out from the horizon and their intertwined hands. The taller shut the door and locked it, darting out the building and onto a better area to feel the relaxing air rushing past them.

The two couldn't help but smile, as if there were no problems in the world; an old friend wasn't really gone, there was no drug, no tears, sadness, misery. That there never truly was any pain involved in their lives. All that mattered was the reassurance both their connected hands held, even if the shorter had to reach the highest he could, it didn't compare to the supportive sensation the other person's warmth had. They felt comfort at that moment.

But that time was always so limited.

They were reluctant to let go of each others' grasp, but it was inevitable. It was a slow, painful moment, their fingers gently and hesitantly sliding off the other's palm as they watched the scene in disappointment. Conan stared up at her with such distressed eyes, but all she could do was give him her very own apologetic expression.

"Sorry, Conan-kun. I promised to meet up with Sonoko… for who knows what reason," she muttered the last part to herself, so he decided to ignore it.

She took one step back, ultimately regretting her decision to free the boy from her hold, but she simply waved her hand, producing one of the most fabricated smiles he's ever seen.

Nonetheless, he waved back, grimly watching her retreating form. It nearly took all his strength not to sigh in discontent, slumping his shoulders instead. To any passer-by, he would have completely resembled a doll, but in reality, his cerulean orbs held a great amount of sorrow than anyone could ever hope to comprehend. Just as the saying went, his eyes were the greatest way one could access his unrelenting emotions.

He thought back to the recent night, such a perilous time in which he felt a ludicrous supply of culpability, amenability, and vulnerability. Such instability and inadequacy to obtain and cease the endless bickering from invading his already weakened mind. All he could do was recall those harsh and strident words, the very ones that repeatedly slaughtered his confidence, annihilating his will to do a complex number of activities he would have previously done without a second thought. Although he gave the voices his consent to wonder his mind at the moment, deliberate about trying to convince himself of each syllable and its false statements, it did the exact opposite.

He felt disgusting, repulsive even. He so very wished to remain alone, the fresh wind swishing past and against his figure, giving an excuse for his watering eyes, believable or not. At this point, all he could do was imagine the comfort and protectiveness of his covers, sheets thick enough to muffle his cries with ease as he let out everything to his heart's content.

"Only a self-destructive fool would consider your love an option"

He wished he hadn't eaten, because what he desired more than anything was to puke.

"Are you okay, Edogawa-kun?" He jumped, undeniably alarmed by her- no- their sudden appearance. Ugh, of course, he hadn't noticed them approaching, having been too deep in thought to do so.

They, the Detective Boys, and their usual self-eating grin were replaced with a terrifying look of concern, and it made his heart race. The rising pace in his chest was nowhere near similar to that of when he had begun to solve a case, it was essentially petrifying. He feared, distinctively, of anyone ascertaining and perceiving his conflicts, no less of his morally daily enterprise done night after night.

This had, unfortunately (to him), led to a stutter (of panic). "A-ah, uh, I'm fine, Haibara." He couldn't help but bite his lip, devastated at himself for failing and doing precisely what he sought out not to do. He roughly chewed on the skin, as if punishing his actions. He fought against his consciousness and willed himself to seem more convincing by staring at those... those burning eyes.

Not being one of mastery in the profession of acting, he surrendered with a gulp and a nervous laugh, conclusively deciding to avoid their gazes in the end. Eventually, he simply gave them a smile of fakery and distortion (made quite perceptible), walking past their frames without giving any sign of acknowledgment.

"To be yourself? What utter nonsense"

"C-Come on, guys. Only a few minutes before class starts." Oh god. He hoped with all his might no one was to behold such an unsightly spectacle such as the glassy feature to his blue eyes, let alone the wetness to his cheeks. And, to his pleasure, no one did, his face becoming dry in the course of time it took to arrive at their destination. Yes, despite the searing worry scrutinies everyone held on him, they just continued on, following every step he took without question. Having to bear the silence surrounding them and dropping every attempt at a conversation they had within themselves.

Concluding being 5 minutes early upon arriving into the classroom and taking a glance at the clock hanging from out of their reach, they chose to use this time to store their belongings. Although the teacher also managed this time to exploit her questions about an incident, Conan quickly confirmed he was safe and ensured that her anxiousness wasn't necessary. He then sat in his respectful area, a place in which was assigned to him since he enrolled/arrived in the school, the others doing the same.

Except, the difference between the groups was the boy's obliviousness to the troubled faces of both his friends and teacher, solely focused on nothing as he was left with his thoughts.

"You're far inferior to the worthlessness of the men in the world, and you must understand the poor shape this place is in"

The cluster of eyes locked their gazes towards him, evidently dismissing the thought of bypassing both his demeanor and structure. Even as the teacher (herself) passed out the pretest papers to an assessment coming in on Wednesday, the people never considered overlooking the "child."

They all ignored the groans and protests the children emitted and the main educator present settled with detaching him from the others by refusing to give him a sheet, something he didn't seem to notice. That fact confirmed their suspicions.

'He is thinking of something troubling.'

Then there was the lunch period.

Everyone sat within their respective areas, places they came to unconsciously decide was their "assigned seats" for the appointed time. So, with that, the children went their daily ways, just as the Detective Boys did. Watching the people approaching, he hopelessly tried to act naturally; quickly and rushingly reaching for his bento, practically forcing others to believe he was alright, that he had an appetite.

"You're just... pediculus"

He ate at a moderate pace, just as he did this morning, dispiritedly munching on the fruit with a distant look. In short, he wasn't very convincing. Having only had enough time to consume scarcely a quarter of the meal, it most definitely contributed and facilitated the additional need to insulate the boy suffering.

Everyone restituted back into their former sections, sitting just as they were 30 minutes ago. And, even though all of the students seemed to already be depleted of their energy, Conan definitely wasn't meant in the same category. It wasn't simply his energy that was weary, but just his entire being. His once beautiful, glistening blue eyes were now nothing short of lifeless.

"You're a whore, a good for nothing."

Ignoring the lump in her throat, Ms. Kobayashi announced another study for science tests, incontrovertibly resulting in, quite exaggerated, groans of protests. Fortunately, they all shut their mouths with a glance at her unamused and rather glaring expression. Sighing, she did what she was hired for and handed out worksheets for the class to embark upon, sequentially deciding to give the cowlick-haired boy the papers. After all, he implied a look of… fright? Restlessness? Either way, he gave the impression of a need for distraction, even if the signs were small and hardly visible, he was one of her dear students.

"I envy everyone you've never met"

Having set the packets down in front of him, she instantly noticed a shift within his eyes. They became exceedingly more unimpeded, something so very much preferred than the deeply undecipherable, cloudy mess it once was. Not a second later did that expression drop into shreds as he began to work through the pages in such speed she never thought she'd ever see a child have. In just ten minutes (filled with utter flabbergast), she was on her way to prepare extra papers, not even able to staple them before he was completely finished with all 3 five-paged (front and back) packets.

Conan didn't even emanate any manifestation of indiscriminate satisfaction, only hungrily desperate for more. Anything, even the most negligible of all diversions was what he craved remarkably so.

Being in the middle of their very own work, the children (excluding Haibara) took the time to glance up (Haibara was watching the whole thing from the beginning (Science was her strong suit)), witnessing the scene of their teacher so helplessly struggling to provide their friend with assignments. It eventually came to a point where the teacher gathered a stack of papers (including even math) from all the higher grades in the school; it undoubtedly fascinated her that she had her sights on a prodigy. Although, her apprehension hadn't faltered whatsoever.

The process continued for approximately over an hour and a half, way past the appointed time for the next class subject, but with someone like Conan, who could honestly blame her?

"Yer' not beautiful"

"Never were, never will be"

Eventually, though, the boy came to an abrupt stop, swallowing a lump in his throat over something they wouldn't have a chance at deciphering if it weren't for the virtually unobtrusive shaking his entire body had.

"You're hideous"

"Edog-" Haibara stopped her sentence half-way as she was presented with such an immobilizing and foreign sight of those uncanny streams.

Tears. Her gaze became solemn. He's crying. She had a strong desire to snap the "boy" (who had saved her life countless times) out of his unknown trance.

Not much later did he, as if suddenly aware of what his body was emitting, frantically wipe his face, fighting off the sob that nearly escaped him. He endeavored to cease the supposedly "bothersome" tears, but they had no intention of obliging. Oh, how hard he tried; the rubbing ranging from his shoulder down to the very tips of his fingers, but it did nothing. So, he ultimately rested his head within his hands, palms pressuring against his eyes, he didn't mind, though. He very much wished not to see various eyes witnessing the pathetically vulnerable mess he currently was.

"I'm fine." Just go away.

"No, you're not. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Everything.

"Stop lying, you're not convincing anyone, you know."

"What are you talking about?" I know, it doesn't sound authentic to me, either.

"Edogawa, I'm serious."

"So am I." I really can't say.

"Do you want to call someone?"

"I'm fine." No, because nothing here is 'fine.'

"Then, why are you crying?"

"I was staring for too long, is all." Because it hurts.

"Cona-"

"I'm fine." All of it is so painful.

"Alright. Why were you staring for so long?"

"Reasons." For such vulgar and horrendous reasons.

"What reasons?"

"Cases." Memories.

"What about them?"

"Just how repulsive they are." They're cruel and so utterly heartless.

"In which way?"

"Greedy, emotional humans." Every way.

"Tell the truth!"

"I am." No…

"Just speak your mind!"

"I said I was." Understand that I can't.

"Stop lying already!"

"I'm-" Sorry…

A hand promptly grasp his left wrist, forcing it forward, but the lid of his right eye remained resting on his remaining palm. Unfortunately for him, his fellow companion thought it admissible; the fact that he refused to even look at her and the simple appearance itself. Conclusively, she yanked his other arm. He fundamentally lifted his head to face the opposing person, showing her his additionally distinguishable bloodshot eyes.

Haibara stood in front of his desk as if towering over him, inappreciably leaning ever so close to his sitting form with an inexcusable glare staring daggers into him. He requested nothing more than to be able to avoid her gaze, but it screamed obedience- to cease any ounce of resistance he held. The unwavering, turquoise orbs scared- no- terrified him to no end.

He had tried to retrieve his hands back at his side, but that had only resulted in a tighter hold, the small fingers squeezing harshly and directly onto one of his freshly, renewed cuts. He visibly flinched. This evidently didn't go unnoticed by the scientist, who clenched one hand, then the other before finally concluding a dire situation established through the wincing of her "savior." With the (assumed) informational detail, she took his left arm, specifically the one that had caused him to grimace in the first place, and pulled the sleeves of obstruent clothing down before the other could have a choice in the matter. She slid the covering haltingly, centimeter by centimeter she revealed more of his arm. Her look hardened along with the other's crying and gasping.

It was beyond awful.

This time, though, he truly did divert his field of vision somewhere else that wasn't her demanding eyes, cringing at the reality that hit him.

They now knew of his toxic activity, and soon enough, everyone will.

Damn it!

He snatched his hands back into his possession, away and hidden from everyone's view. His face was contorted in ferocity, only to lose its frightening touch once a tinge of pain reflected itself in the waves of blue that were his eyes. The direction of his frown went towards Haibara, conceiving a flinch at the tension within his eyes.

They were similar to that of sinuous cosmic dust. Seemingly unfocused, but the dark slit of his pupil told otherwise; nothing except a sharp hostility. Although, what struck all of them the most, were the small squinting of the eyes and the upward curves of his eyebrows that pleaded for something. An escape route, support, or just a break.

It pained them all having to sit back and watch as someone they cherish crumble under the weight of an uncanny entity, choosing and obligating himself into a state of hiding, suppressing both himself and the reasoning of his sorrow from those they believed he trusted most. It was unnerving knowing someone, whether that be his mindset or a separate being altogether, was capable of bringing the bravest person they knew into silence through terror.

They made it upon themselves to curse whatever or whoever was responsible for their detective's misery into absolute oblivion. They promised themselves that, no matter what, they would- no- will have that disgusting and treacherous being caught for his/her doing(s). They will, without a doubt, cause that horrendous fool nothing but the worst anyone could ever hope to endure until their last breath, and even then, that wouldn't be as sufficient enough.

Although, they must put their vengeance on hold, seeing as their first and utmost priority was allowing Conan, the one affected, to feel comfortable once again. What was more important than their very own self-satisfaction was reassuring him that they wouldn't tolerate any more of his unbearable suffering. They wouldn't dare let the opposing side have the authority and do as they will with him. As if.

First things first, knowing exactly what had happened to him and earning enough of his amenity. They needed enough of it for the cowlick-haired boy to explain what exactly his main conflict was, otherwise they couldn't do a single thing but be spectators.

Yes, despite the retreating form that belonged to Conan himself, droplets following in his trail, none of their burning determinations wavered. Instead, all of their convictions thrived higher than ever, having currently witnessed the victim's agony and the result of his unknown torment.

They'll definitely figure out what had caused such a depressing sight that was his eventual reaction, deciding to provide their support whether he wanted it or not. Conan needed the assistance, and they'll play the part.

So, of course, his reluctance, especially if they considered it to be one out of a future dozen times, was futile to their very own obligation for effort. They'll all try their hardest and will succeed.

And confirming that "fact," they will have concluded that Conan's "little" spurt of anger wasn't directed towards Haibara herself, but rather himself. Many would have also resolved that this was the chance they had to repay for the countless times the detective had saved their lives. They could finally owe their debt for the multiple times of guidance they received from him and say that…

He is not okay.