Emotional Damage đź’Ż
"So?" Ran asks with a hint of curiosity as she takes a seat beside her best friend on the cozy nook by the window. "What do you think of Doito-san?"
Sonoko sighs her way even deeper into the curl of self-righteous misery, the pretty panorama just not pretty enough to wallow her out of her perfectly reasonable and absolutely justified self-pity.
"He may not be your Prince Charming, but he doesn't seem like a bad person." Ran tries with an ameliorating edge to her friendly smile.
After another spiritless, long-suffering sigh, Sonoko pulls in a deep breath, and sighs once more. Breathing out one more weary sigh. Sonoko then exhales twice in a row while Ran discreetly checks the time out of the corner of her eye. Sighing her way out of the physical flumping, but not the mental slump, Sonoko heaves herself up with a sigh as she finally decides to word her profound disappointment into a concrete, long-winded speech that begins with, yes, a deep sigh.
"I guess I–"
But two more or less familiar bystanders taking up space in the pristine snow momentarily rob her of her self-absorbed focus.
Squinting against the milky landscape practically blinding her retinas, she is suddenly made an eyewitness to the adult quickly pocketing his cellphone as he scrunches up his expression in what appears some maddening pondering.
Having made his mind up with some ambivalent scalp-scratching and a round and a half of whined grumbling directed at the heavens above, Katsuki-san trudges the deep patch of snow to what has become the brat's personal welcome mat (because he's like an egomaniac cat! haha, she's so damn witty with her metaphors!). The adult then proceeds to lightly kick the tip of his boot into the child's snow-soaked pant leg—with a scowl of faint disgust that Sonoko is all too well acquainted with herself—the same way a kid would poke a frog laying motionless on a nymphea; that, or a toddler poking a curious stick into a pile of shit lying by the side of the road.
Looking both ways, as if to check before crossing this road of no return, Katsuki-san apparently resigns to the fate of a toddler with a needle-happy stick and a nosiness for literal and figurative crap as he begins repeatedly kicking his foot into the kid's shin with a slightly increasing force that seems inversely proportional to his shrinking patience, but her math might be wrong from this angle.
Sooner rather than later, he's met with an unconscious Knee-(The)-Jerk reaction that puts his own shin on the line—or was that on purpose?—and, oof. Katsuki is practically flown back, forced into one-legged jumping jacks as he clutches the other, on the other hand the muffled string of syllables leaving his mouth is probably something her own mother would blush at and promptly scramble to cover her naive daughter's ears.
The flawless contour of vengeance highlighting his twisting expression at the innocent child innocuously lying there as if he never did move in the first place would put most beauty gurus she follows to shame.
Katsuki is quick to put down his resolve, and his sore leg, she's led from the window pane down this window into his pain when watching him vivaciously grinning into the pained grimace as he grinds out a couple sentences. He's most definitely buttering him up (Sonoko would know, because she's been an active user of this tactic enough times), carefully bending down to proffer a hand to the fallen brat, who dazedly glances up in his general direction, adorned with a snow beard that connects to an icy mustache and two ice creams balls for eyes.
Katsuki's features take on a condescending sheen while he looks down his nose at the brat's own sporting a shiny stalagmite on the tip, extending his palm farther with a delicate shake of the head that almost comes across as patronizing—or perhaps she's seeing things from this distance—until the little troublemaker is painstakingly taking a hold of it.
Only to literally be let down with a dramatic slip of the hand, which sends him crashing back into the shimmering snow sea.
The twenty-one [sixteen] year old is cackling at the child's fresh face plant, slapping his knee—and then swearing because, "dammit, this is my sore leg!"—at how hilarious he finds himself to be for having managed the feat to fool a six [sixteen] year old.
"–kind of love him, actually." Sonoko can only manage in a chortle amidst her dreamy sigh.
"...huh?" Ran blinks perplexed at that after the prolonged bout of silence.
Her confusion remains unresolved, so she resolves to meet her best friend's gaze, and the object stealing her attention—having had her back facing away this whole time—and is suddenly slapped with that same view.
"–oh my god! Conan-kun!"
There's a victim here; a tiny, faultless, uncontaminated (at least till now) victim that's been unjustly caught in the crossfire.
His poor nose.
God, DICK's gone out of his way again to drench himself in ew de toilet. Is he trying to drown out the stench of shitty person or is he trying to exacerbate it? That is the question.
...also, the feverish child who passed out due to their unfair 'connection' may, maybe, possibly, perhaps, be a victim of circumstance too.
But mostly, his nose.
Because Kaito has top priorities that he's not about to screw over a minor inconvenience who conveniently chose to plop down his path and is now refusing to move, no matter how kindly he's honking for him to scrape your tiny butt off of my street already!
Also his shin. Because, ouch. What are they feeding kids these days, GMO and actual iron?
Kaito exhales, more as a way to avoid the acid polluting his precious oxygen rather than a means to regain his losing composure.
He pinches his nose and breathes through his mouth.
Well, it can't get any worse than this.
.
.
.
...it gets worse than that.
(Crap, he knew he shouldn't have thought it, he's always jinxing himself like this!)
Somewhere between keeping up the polite pretense "oh no this child just suddenly kissed the snow for no good reason at all whatsoever whatever shall I do to help", and Heiress's Second-In-Command putting the aforementioned little devil to bed, Heiress herself lets out a peculiar comment about the gremlin "–so much for being a great ___–" that escapes his immediate reach.
At first.
It's because the best friend sidetracked him with a comment of her own at her best friend's back disappearing right around the corner, something along the lines of, "that's not fair, even ___ aren't immune to colds, plus he's just a child!"
Kaito...winces at that.
Oh, hello pangs of guilt climbing up my esophagus, so nice for you to join us again during this lovely afternoon!
So Kaito does what he does best when faced with a guilty conscience.
He elects to ignore it.
Everyone knows adulthood is a steep road leading to a lifetime of feelings suppression and growing deader inside by the minute.
But...there's a word he's missing here.
Something stinks, and it's not because of DICK's putrid cologne penetrating so deeply through the wood fibers cleaning companies would pay to not take on the job—no, this is reeks of a different kind of shady, and Kaito's nostrils are just the hounds that will sniff the treasure out of this trash.
He turns the phrase upside down, inside out, tears it apart and brings it back, 'so much for being a...'
___ve
de___
__te__
"What." He states, asks, demands? Crinkling his nose from a sudden burst of horror and the intermittent wafts of DICK's revolting odor swimming beneath his nose.
Somehow, his subconscious is already driving, ahead of him, and it's safe to say Kaito is feeling very unsafe and about to bolt out of this death trap, screw this, screw everything. But, unfortunately for him, his mouth and throat and vocal cords seem to be along for the ride too, and nobody dared to consult him for this impromptu road trip to hell.
"...you m-mean when he grows up he'd like to become a l-law-abiding citizen, which is a decision that could, let's say purely theoretically, hopefully be swayed by the coolest, most daring and strikingly handsome, might I add, individual beneath the moonlight, right?"
"Oh no, I mean it." She states, unwitting of the flicker of hope she is savagely stomping on with the heel of her slipper. "That's exactly what I meant."
Kaito swings through moods faster than a preteen with a weekly obsession for the shiny new boy band hitting it big.
Oh god. Please. No.
"Conan-kun."
No no no no no! Don't say it out loud and it won't be true!
"Is."
Just don't do it! Just don't do it!
"A."
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN DON'T YOU FINISH THAT CURSED SENTENCE!
"D-E-T-E-C-T-I-V-E."
EMOTIONAL DAMAGE
Kaito nervelessly falls to the knobs of his knees and folds inwards on himself, unable to safely absorb the death blow dealt to his gut—
Oh, wait, nevermind, that's just his crushed heart lying in a sad little pulp at her feet. But that's not a dribble of saliva he wipes from the corner of his mouth; no, it is his lifeblood abandoning him in the wake of such evil tidings—they should invent a new genre of horror movies pertaining to this specific set of circumstances, because that's the level of disturbing this news has incited!
"Despite his tender age, he has already proven time and again that he is a detective through and through! Believe me, there is nothing in this universe that could ever sway his devotion, enthusiasm and passion for this profession."
Figuratively, she just nonchalantly wiped the tip of her slipper off of his heart's remains, still lukewarm and squelchy, dismissing them as nothing more than crap stuck under the sole of her brand new shoes.
"Not even if, say, this was the delirious plot of a delusionary tall tale concocted by some delusional excuse of a writer in which Conan-kun's soulmate, shockingly, ends up being a petty crook whose loyalties lie outside the law."
All the while she keeps wearing a gentle smile, utterly unaware that every word she utters mangles his hope into a spoiled cut of meat shady supermarkets dare to sell as quality stuff for exorbitant prices. And just to twist the knife into that rotting piece of meat, namely, his decaying heart, she brings the tips of her delicate fingers to her smiling lips, and adorably avows.
"In fact, he wouldn't think twice about slamming that sucker in jail!"
"..."
She giggles wholesomely. "Now tell me that isn't just about the cutest thing ever!"
Kaito's answering chuckle suspiciously sounds like the dry heave of a wounded soul who has risen from its fleshy cage only to descend down into the deepest pits of hell.
Not only does he realize they have wildly different definitions of 'cutest'. But this specific moment in time is also when Kaito decides her Gentle-Label:
Persephone = Bringer of Death.
.
.
.
He excuses himself with a raised finger and a sour face that's mistaken for another polite smile.
He's plodding through the snow, willing to make it as far as he can, which is...not very far at all (...he really should stop flying everywhere and start putting in some cardio, but god, at what cost, what kind of sick, twisted and self-sacrificing person would torture themself with running).
Out of breath and out of his mind, holding himself up with a trembling palm on the wall, he takes a trembly breath in.
Then screams out.
"WHEN I SAID MY FAVORITE TROPE WAS ENEMIES TO LOVERS THIS WAS NOT WHAT I MEANT!"
This unfortunate twist of events leads to his second zipline through the five stages of grief—this time mourning his non-existent love life, and this time all in dis-order.
• Acceptance
Kaito (gingerly) headbutts the wall and desperately whispers to himself.
"...son of a bitch everything's real."
• Denial
Kaito (not so gingerly) headbutts the wall and desperately whisper-yells to himself.
"No, it's not! Birds don't exist and neither do humans! Reality is just an illusion! Shut up!"
• Bargaining
"Haha, the universe got jokes, aight."
But it's hard to appreciate the irony and humor of the situation when, instead of someone else, he is being regarded as the butt of these jokes. Not to mention when he's all of a sudden whacked with the sudden realization that he probably should have realized sooner.
"...oh my god." Kaito gasps, reaching the never-ceasing-trembling hand to his chest. "Oh. My. God. I'm gonna die a..."
...a...
...a...
...A CHERRY BOY!
He can already hear his peers, they're crowding around him, all in stitches about this loser boy who will never get to pop his cherry.
Well, that's hardly fair. It's not his fault his cherry has turned unpoppable or that he can't engage in sexy stem-tying times anymore, is it?!
...actually, hey, that's kinda cool. Because everyone knows virgins at one point metamorphose into deities that acquire telepathy, which is but the first step to holding enough power to destroy whole galaxies.
And he's all about that.
Like he likes to say: a little destruction always puts everything in perspective.
Damn, the AceAro Fam sure knows what's up.
Kaito nods slowly at the only positive development in this whole tragically un-comical comedy of errors, and gazes up, up, up, at the universe itself.
"...oh, wonder, you work in mysterious ways."
• Depression
The only face this C-Boy is truly glad to see in these troubling times appears before him like sweet magic, silhouetted by a crystal halo and dazzling wings: a snowy, beautiful angel. Which might just be a byproduct of his fervid imagination, but Kaito is willing to bet it's totally real.
Oh, Franky.
Probably another fellow cherry in this waste basket. But Kaito doesn't judge, unlike the imaginary horde of sheep taunting him about the maiden state of his cherry affairs inside his head. Damn his overactive imagination!
Kaito sniffles, wiping his dripping nose on his sleeve, and then unregretfully wiping the sullied sleeve on a clean patch of wall behind him. "...wh-what're you doin' out here?"
"Stocktaking." Franky curtly replies, barely loud enough to be heard above the sniveling. "We're out of ice cream." He coolly announces, in the midst of the thick, snow coated landscape. "Why are you out here, curled up in that fetal pose against the wall and sobbing pathetically?"
A high-pitched wail that could only be rivaled by a baby's hungry cries for self-seeking attention in the dead of night dies behind his thinning lips, and Kaito stifles the answering whimper into his knuckles, biting into his fist. "We're out of ice cream...!"
• Anger
Blasting through the speakers of the second-story opened window is one of the most iconic pieces of literature and art to grace this godforsaken world. And onto the resonant notes of this masterpiece, Kaito surfs the waves of his righteous rage.
~ I see you drivin' 'round town with the girl I love and I'm like ~
"Fuck me!"
Then does what any (ir)rational adult will do on such occasions, and goes to blame an external force that holds no executive power whatsoever in their self-serving lives.
He turns to God.
~ I guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough I'm like ~
"Fuck you!"
Then Kaito whips around to point his pointer finger at the window of the evil spawn's assigned room, the root cause of which most of his issues stem (pun not intended!) from.
~ and although there's pain in my chest I still wish you the best with a ~
"And fuck you too!"
Shinichi, fever-reddened and bed-ridden, bored to death waiting for Ran to come back with a cold packet, crinkles his nose at what could only be the stench of toilet water permeating through the sturdy walls, just shy of being noxious enough to wake the dead. It sure brought him back to the land of the living.
Shinichi sits up on the unfamiliar bed of the unfamiliar room of the unfamiliar chalet and with a weakened hold wastes a few tries on grabbing hold of the cold glass of apple juice placed on the nightstand next to him. Finally guiding the straw to his mouth, and taking a noisy sip of the disgustingly sweet but cool drink with the most deadpan expression panning dead ahead, he elects to ignore the clown outside who decided it was perfectly okay to have a one-sided yelling match between himself, the sky and his window.
'Weirdo.'
. . .
a/n:
i hate that i can't link anything in here, there's so much inspiration and refrences i take from to write this cracky thingy and i want you all to see them too...but this site won't let me :/ leaving notes feels superfluous too at this point.
if you guys would like to know more and have a good laugh too while you're at it feel free to head to this same fic on my AO3 profile (where i'm more active anyway) and i always link/explain everything there, the formatting of the story is slightly different too!)