A/N: first part of this was written years ago (as early as 2015! then revised in 2018! then life hit me like a truck). thought I'd finally attempt to finish it up. happy reading! :)

oOo

It's spring, and sunny, and the perfect weather for barging into other people's houses and pushing off all the junk they have on their desk to get their attention.

"Hey," Kaito announces, pillowing his head in his arms and opening one eye to look at her. "I'm moving in, okay?"

Never mind that they haven't walked properly to school since last semester, that whenever she sees him lately, he's strangely tired and drawn—Aoko stares at his suitcase and wonders why he's taking the trouble to relocate somewhere not even 20 feet away from his own room in his own house. Wonders, wonders some more, then gives up not entirely unhappily, sighing and mumbling about setting up the pull-out couch.

"Just for tonight," he promises, and Aoko nods. It's because Dad will be home from the ICPO conference tomorrow, and it goes without saying that he would never approve. But then Kaito makes a beeline not for the couch but for her bed, and she has to put up at least some show of displeasure (because otherwise she'll be too vulnerable and the vulnerable ones are always left behind).

She ends up literally smothering him in a pillow fort that blocks him from trying to roll over to her side of the bed. Not that he would.

Then in the morning the pillows have all fallen on the floor save for one, the one she's currently hugging to her chest-oh wait. That's Kaito. "Hello," he says softly, one hand tangled in her hair.

Aoko is suddenly very thirsty.

"Water," she croaks, and rushes out the room even as she hears him start to follow her.

oOo

She opens the door to Dad, who takes one glance and starts to look about ready to pull out the shotgun, face slowly purpling with rage.

Kaito stretches lazily, offering a sharp-toothed grin. "Morning, keibu." (And later, back in the cold familiar rhythm of coffee-donuts-white blinking screens, Nakamori will wonder why he thought Kaito-kun a touch too steely to be familiar. Or this—that he was familiar, but in an entirely different way.) Then he's up and laughing, running a hand through his own forever-disheveled hair, whistling and telling Aoko he'll take care of breakfast this time, so don't you worry.

Which, of course, makes Dad put on the interrogation cap and Aoko her best annoyed face. "It's the first time. I swear. I didn't even know-"

Dad misunderstands completely and starts spluttering, launching a tirade that ends in a cross between "you're grounded" and "I'm kicking you out of the house." In the end, he storms off, and Aoko stomps downstairs to glare daggers at Kaito, the idiot perverted jerk.

He's gurgling down chocolate milk happily when she sits down at the table with a huff. "Did you get things all sorted out with the old man?"

"Thanks to you, you unbelievable jerk, I'm grounded for the next two months. Honestly I was really planning on going to Karuizawa with Keiko. You're ridiculous, you know?"

"I'm not the one who decided to use me as a teddy bear in the middle of the night. Just thought I should let you know."

"You-"

"My fangirls will be so disappointed," he sighs. "Aoko, I understand you can be possessive, but keeping me all to yourself is really a little worrying-"

The mop chase ends two hours later.

oOo

"So why are you here anyway?"

He shrugs, then sits on the couch beside her. "Mom's on vacation again. We have break in a few days. The house was feeling empty, and-"

"No, really. What's bothering you?"

He starts, then puts on a carefully constructed look of puzzlement, but Aoko is having none of that. (Especially when her mind keeps straying to pale skin and blue, blue eyes.)

She bites her lip, taking in his half-baked smile, counting the days. "It's today, isn't it?"

His eyes go blank for half a second, and that's all the confirmation she needs.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I-" She feels the tears welling up, hot and thick and salty, reaches out a hand to him only to pull it away. "How did I forget?"

"It's not that, Aoko, I just—we haven't been hanging out for a while, and-"

"Cut it out, Kuroba Kaito. What, do you think I've known you for a day or something?"

"No, I just-"

"I'm sorry. God, I'm such an idiot. How did I—I was there—I can't believe-"

"Aoko. It's okay. It's—it's enough that you remember him. He would have wanted that."

"No, it's not. It's not okay. There's just one thing in the world that makes you get like this and I can't even be bothered to remember. Just one person who can get to you—and I—I-"

"Aoko-"

"He was like my father too, okay?" she bursts out, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her head in them. "I hate this. I hate that you can never tell me when you're upset, not since he passed away, not since we started high school."

"Well, I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, because I forced it out of you. Kaito, it isn't healthy—you shouldn't be like this all the time. I know we've both been busy, but you can't be everything at once, you know?"

"I like my elaborate tricks. They're fun."

"You using them to kill yourself inside is not fun. Not everyone has to have secrets, Kaito, and it doesn't hurt to-"

Kaito lets out a short, bitter laugh that cuts in places she thought had gone away long ago. "Aoko, mourning my father is hardly one of the hardest things I do."

"It is." She turns around to glare at him. "I hate feeling so helpless-"

"Yeah, well, it's not about you all the time. You do understand that, right?" He's actually looking angry now, icy gaze matching hers. "Look, I'm trying. I didn't shut myself up like I did last year because you told me not to, okay? What do you want me to do, bang on your door in tears and beg for you to take me in? We're not in elementary school anymore, Aoko, and it's not like you don't have other friends to worry about. Just because you can let it all out doesn't mean I find it easy to be dependent-"

"Sorry for being so dependent," hisses Aoko, eyes blurring rapidly with tears. "Maybe you should have just turned me away then, if I'm such an unworthy foil to the great Poker Face."

"Aoko. It's just hard for me too, alright? I don't—I don't-"

"I'm sick and tired of standing outside your walls."

Kaito groans, rubbing a hand over tired eyes. "Aoko, I told you, I'm trying—it's just hard to confide in you, because—you know. Because-"

"And I guess that's why you've been avoiding me for the past few weeks?"

He stares at her, hurt and frustration chasing each other in circles, and lies straight through his teeth. "No."

"Then?"

"I-"

"The truth. Or I'm leaving. Now."

"If I tell you," he says, mouth twisted into a strange sort of smile, "you'll hate me."

It's as if he had stabbed her in the chest. "You still don't trust me?"

"It's not–it's not just about trust," he says slowly.

It's that smile, that last remainder of pretense, that drives her over the edge. "Right. Let me know when you decide to stop being such a masochist." You're never happy. Not now. Not anymore.

She stands up and slams the door shut, not sure which hurts more, his silence or failure to follow her.

And as she turns back, seeing his hunched-over silhouette in the living room, she feels her heart break along with his.

oOo

She stays out late that day, calling up Keiko and the girls and going (window) shopping to her heart's content. If anyone is going to notice that she's unnaturally cheerful, it's not going to be them, but Akako sends her a look every once in a while that threatens to ruin her mood all over again.

"Boy issues?" she says casually as they're standing side by side, gazing half-heartedly at flowery dresses and large summer hats.

"No."

"Let me rephrase myself, then. What has Kuroba-kun done this time?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Akako is silent, eyes trained steadfastly on the mannequin posing in some hideous green-and-orange polka dot combination. Some friend you are, Nakamori-san, goes unsaid.

She's not surprised when, five minutes later, when the rest of the girls return with their shopping bags and takeout and ice cream, Aoko tells them she's not feeling well and leaves without a sound.

oOo

The couch is empty, the blanket on it folded into a perfect square that only Kaito can accomplish. The slippers are lined up neatly by the door; the dishes in the sink washed, dried, and put into their proper spots.

Sorry, the house says, and this, Aoko thinks, is enough. For now.

She finds him in her room again, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and knows it's because he can't stand seeing the portrait of his father in his own right now.

"Hey," she says, taking a seat by the head of the mattress. Then, shifts and hugs him all at once. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. Not when you needed me."

He's surprisingly thin, thinner than she remembers, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed and drawn. For a while it is just her and his heartbeat and the tick-tock of the clock; then she hears him pull away with a sigh.

"You were wrong, you know," he says, staring out the window. "Oyaji's not the only person in the world who can get to me."

"What?"

He turns to face her, crooked smile in place. "It's you. Hell, I think it's always been you." (And later when he remembers this, it is on a rooftop in his worst nightmares, her eyes wide and him thinking back to this and hearing a song that goes and I know she'll be the death of me.)

She swallows. Then, to his horror, starts to cry.

"Aoko—what, Aoko—man, let's go get some ice cream. Okay? Double chocolate chip with chocolate fudge? I'll even buy it for you-"

"What, do you think I'm you or something?"

He frowns. "Well, no, but it's chocolate-"

"You're such a child," she half-sniffles, then bonks him on the head and starts off toward the door. "We going or not?"

oOo

Kaito coughs, trying not to stare as Aoko devours his chocolate ice cream. It's cliche, and quite possibly the most-used trick in the book (if Aoko was the type to use tricks), but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the spoon in her mouth.

She glares (as expected), punches him (as expected), and curses mankind (only mankind) for being perverted idiots. Which, he guesses, is actually quite true, and promptly receives another smack for having a stupid smile on his face. "You're so cliche," she accuses, pointing The Spoon at him. "'It's you?' God, Kaito, what are you, a jazz singer?"

"Well, would you rather I had said it was your cat?" he says, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

"What a stickler," she grumbles, then sneaks another hopeful glance between him and the ice cream counter, subtly clearing her throat.

He rolls his eyes but pulls out his wallet all the same, sighing as he pulls out more bills. "You're gonna get fat."

"Hey, it's not every day a girl gets free ice cream-I gotta soak it up while I can, you know? We haven't been out in ages." Translation: I miss you.

Kaito's already halfway across the room by that point, and far enough to pretend he hasn't heard anything (he wouldn't be Kid if he didn't have sharp senses), and because it's simpler and faster and more effective to do so, he comes back with three scoops of Neapolitan ("This had better be enough-I'm officially broke.") and smiles like nothing has happened at all.

oOo

They come back to Ginzou, who's leaning not-so-casually on the back of the sofa chair, arms crossed and brow raised. "Aoko," he says gruffly, then performs an impressive change-of-face-color upon seeing Kaito. "You-"

"Dad, I-"

"Out," he says, glaring, and Kaito feels his heart sink to his toes. He doesn't even know you're Kid yet, says an annoying voice in his head, and Kaito tells it to go away because he doesn't need to think about all the things he'll never have right here right now. Poker Face. Yes.

"Dad, Kaito-"

Kaito swallows, then kneels slowly. "I apologize, keibu-san. It was my fault-"

"Would you care to explain, then," roars Ginzou, voice rising, "why a week's worth of your clothing is in my daughter's room?"

"I-again, that was all me, it had nothing to do with Aoko-"

"Out," says Ginzou again, yanking open the door and pushing Kaito away. "I leave for one week, just one week, and you-"

Aoko makes a choked noise, and Ginzou whirls on her. "I told you you were grounded," he says, voice shaking. "What part of grounded do you NOT understand-"

"Dad, it wasn't like that, Kaito only came over yesterday-"

"Only? ONLY?! He has his own damn place, and you would do well to mind yours-"

Kaito swallows again and starts walking away.

"You don't understand-"

"This discussion is over-"

"He had-"

"I said-"

"I SAID, WE-"

"AOKO-"

"KAITO DIDN'T-"

"You will not speak a single word about him-"

"IT'S TOICHI-OJISAN'S DEATH ANNIVERSARY, DAD, AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALONE, IS THERE ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT?" Aoko glares, breath one long, hiccupping gasp.

"Aoko," says Kaito, without meaning to.

"-you don't even remember, do you? I forgot, but I remembered, but-Dad, you were close to him, how could you forget?" How could you forget how he took your place because you were never here, and how there's a hole now because you still aren't, Aoko doesn't say, but suddenly Ginzou looks like he's ten years older, and Aoko's heart aches so much from everything she's never said. "And Kaito-it's Kaito, Dad, not anyone else-he's not going to hurt me-"

"I don't hold it against any of you," says Kaito quickly. "Keibu, there's no need to feel bad-"

"Oh, but there is," laughs Aoko, eyes wet, and slings her last shot harder than any bullet, knows that her father's face will crumple and that he'll storm out. "Because all you know-and all you remember-is the goddamn Kaitou Kid."

oOo

She's crying so hard she's twitching, breath ragged and high-pitched, and promptly chokes on the glass of water he brings her. Watches him blearily as he pounds her back and attempts to help her sit huddled on the sofa; listens calmly as she says she'd like to be alone, just for now.

He nods, then leaves, shutting the door gently, laughing mirthlessly because he had to leave, after all (memories of a black casket; Nakamori-keibu saying "Kaito this is your home too"; nine-year old Aoko's soft hand in his; the garden wall where he sits after each heist, just to have something to hold onto), and knows that, of course, as usual, it's all his fault.

There's no way in hell Aoko will accept Kid after that, and he knows (hasn't he always?) it's over, those long, luxurious days of hope.

Thank you for making the choice, Bocchama, he remembers hearing from Jii that first dark night, but now it sounds like a reproach, an endless refrain: the choice, the choice, the choice. The whole idea's ludicrous-it makes no common sense-there were so many alternatives-there always are. But Kaito was a selfish, arrogant, insecure performer; still is, and when push comes to shove-

He's eight again, in the precious few months before the 'accident,' and Oyaji is particularly pleased because Kaito has just broken his old escape record, and suddenly Touichi leans in and gives him an almond chocolate bar, for Aoko-chan, because she's just about as nutty as you are, hmm?

There's more, if he cares to look. When he learns how to juggle, and Touichi slowly guides him towards the rainbow set ("Aoko-chan likes rainbows, doesn't she?"). When Touichi goes to pick him up and finds them hugging the life out of each other after finishing their first ever science project. Or even that first time, when Kaito describes way too enthusiastically the girl he just practiced his first ever rose trick on, her blue eyes, her laugh, her blush-and dammit, Oyaji, you knew all the time, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me to stay away from Kid?

All of a sudden his cheeks are wet. He goes to Aoko's room, shuts the door, sits on the bed.

She's so close, and so far away.

I miss you, he thinks furiously. Has to physically strain not to dash out to the sofa, to hold her like he did when they were kids, like he did yesterday, like he did every day before he woke up and realized that Aoko has always been sand between his fingers. Because Aoko wants to be alone now, she said.

Because though he was the first one to pull away, Aoko hadn't said anything when he did. Hadn't tried finding him after that first time he started skipping their biweekly walks to and from school; hadn't cornered him at lunch like she used to when he disappeared for a day or two. Hadn't called him on weekends where Kaito left his phone at home to scout places for Kid-0 missed calls, 0 voicemails, 0 messages.

Kaito had run, and she hadn't chased him, and that's what hurts. Not that they don't see each other-but that she doesn't care enough to ask why. Had she ever cared at all, or was he the only one who fell down the well to Wonderland? (Because people are always more beautiful under the looking glass; because you see them as wonderful and perfect for so long that maybe that is the way they really are, and Kaito was too dumb to realize what he had when he had it.)

The door creaks open, and Kaito's breath hitches. Aoko flops down on the bed without realizing he's already in it.

Her legs tangle under his knees, and she falls. The breath whooshes out of him. Their faces-and bodies-are suddenly very, very, close together.

Aoko gasps. She tries to disentangle herself, but only worsens the situation. Well. His situation, to be precise.

"Stop squirming," Kaito manages, face hot, and thinks that the keibu would definitely murder him if he so much as glimpsed what ran through his mind for a few seconds.

"Move your leg," says Aoko, prodding at the offending limb, and Kaito isn't sure what makes him pull her down again.

"I missed you," he says.

Aoko flushes, and moves to scramble off again, peering nervously at the door, which stays shut. "My father-"

He catches her arm. "Let's not talk about fathers."

"Kaito-"

He meets her gaze evenly. "Let's talk about us."

She sighs, and pokes his arm. He raises an eyebrow when she uses it as a pillow, then decides-consequences be damned-to pull her into his side.

"What is there to talk about?" she says, the sound somewhat muffled in his chest.

"Why, do you think you know everything about me?" he says, and tries not to feel like he's drowning.

Aoko is silent. He can't tell if that's a good sign or not.

"Someone's not in a talkative mood today," he says finally.

"If I asked you questions, would you answer?" says Aoko, a hint of something like bitterness in her voice.

You never asked me anything, thinks Kaito. "I will always give you an answer," he says.

"That's not what I meant," says Aoko. "But fine. Are you seeing someone?"

"What?" Kaito blinks, turning his whole body to stare at her. "Where the hell did you get that from?"

"Akako-chan says you throw all your fan letters away now-you never used to do that before-"

"Koizumi can go to Hell," scoffs Kaito. "She'd like it there, anyway."

"Answer the question."

Kaito gapes, but Aoko won't meet his gaze. "Aoko. If I was-you would definitely know."

"I don't see how I'd know when you don't tell me anything anymore. I don't see how I'd know when you're so sick of me you avoid me for as long as possible-"

"I'm not sick of you-"

"Sure seems like it-"

"You never asked-"

"You never cared-"

"That's not fair, Aoko, you-"

"Well, the fact is I don't know, so are you or aren't you?"

"I'm not," he says fiercely, and now he is angry at Aoko for thinking so little of herself, and angry at himself for letting it happen. "I told you, you would know."

"Am I supposed to read your mind? How the hell would I-"

"You would know because it would have to be you," his mouth says, because it's ridiculous that she thinks he would even think of someone else.

Aoko freezes under his touch. There is a long silence-so long that he starts to think she didn't hear him say anything at all-and then, soft as rain: "What?"

"I-" he says, mind caught in a rictus of panic-you have Kid you stupid bastard you can't be selfish right now get away get out you're done-"I have to go; I-"

"Are you kidding me?" says Aoko, pulling out of his grasp, and his hands instinctively extend to pull her back before he realizes that that's not something he's allowed to do.

He swallows. "I-"

"Kuroba Kaito, you lie to me right now, and you lose me forever," Aoko says, voice cracking.

He closes his eyes; feels the pain leak out, because Poker Face doesn't work-refuses to work-today. "I'm not joking. But this isn't how I wanted to tell you." He feels the ghost of a grin come over his features. "You really didn't know?"

"We stopped being best friends last semester, Kaito. And now you're telling me you-"

"Always have," says Kaito, staring resolutely out the window. "Always will."

"Kai-"

"You don't feel the same way, do you? I'm okay with that." It's better that way, isn't it? It's better because now she won't have to choose-

"Kaito-"

"Anyways, I'm sure I'll get over it. I can't do anything right now, anyway. I-I can't stand being in a relationship. Being tied down like that, you know? I-"

"Liar," says Aoko.

"I'm-"

"You liar," says Aoko, then grabs his collar and kisses him.

It's over much before he's even processed that it's begun. She's moving backwards, determination melting into self-doubt that eats away at him, goddammit say something don't make her look like that she's Aoko and from the moment you met her you knew you'd spend forever trying to make her happy.

(but he didn't, he chose Kid, and now he should pay for it)

Kaito stares at her, wonders with a disjointed horror if he's panicking more than she is. He doesn't trust her. Aoko's always seen the world in black and white, has always been so straight-laced that sometimes he really, really, hates her. She's childish, yes. But that's what makes children such harsh critics: they'll put you on a pedestal, and when you fall nothing will ever put you back up there again.

Well. Kaito doesn't want to be on a pedestal. He just wants to be loved, as much as he hurts, as much as he wants.

"Did I do something wrong?" Aoko says finally, and he's surprised that she hasn't just run off or said something to brush the kiss off.

No, he's the one who's done something wrong. But he doesn't feel like apologizing, because even though he's wrong he doesn't deserve the sheer depth of hate she directs his way. He's a coward, stringing her along and not being strong enough to stop himself from telling her. He really should have just left her alone.

"Kaito?"

In that moment Kaito thinks through the possibility of a life with her, tests its weight in gold. Does he cave into the guilt and discomfort she's displaying (the way her hands fist into the sheets, the way she swallows but doesn't turn away), or does he escape with his heart and future assuredly intact? "Do you love me?" he asks, because he's selfish.

She flushes. "What kind of a sudden question is that-why are you being so cheesy, it's not like you-"

"Am I the most important person in your life?"

"I don't–what is this about?" She looks genuinely concerned, and belatedly he realizes it's because he's shaking, hands sweaty, heart pounding like it never has before, not even when he's falling head-down from sixty stories up, wind whistling through his ears so fast he's effectively deaf.

"I love you," he says. He's a train wreck, speeding towards a demise that has always been inevitable. Smiles brokenly, because this is the point of no return. "I need to show you something. Will you come?"

oOo

Aoko stares at him, then at Touichi's portrait on the wall, then back again. "Um."

"What do you think he looks like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think he looks happy?" Kaito doesn't go over to the portrait, because then he'll be tempted to trace it with his fingers, and right now he hates his father more than he hates Aoko, more than he hates himself.

"I guess so?" Aoko approaches him carefully, putting a hand on his shoulder as if she's afraid that he'll run off at the first sign of danger.

(She's probably right.)

"Are you…we don't have to do this today," she's saying, probably thinking she'd spare him the grief that's compounded onto a day like today, but she doesn't understand, because he never tells her anything.

"We have to," Kaito says. He's shot down criminals (you are a criminal, you idiot), been handcuffed to more officers than he can count, fallen out of towers with a malfunctioning, bullet-ridden glider.

And his hands are still shaking.

"Aoko."

She looks at him, giving him the space he thought he needed to breathe, but it only makes him feel terribly alone.

"Before I loved you," he says, grief welling in his throat so tight he feels like he's choking. "I loved him."

She moves closer, makes to put his head in the crook of her shoulder, but he scoots back like a whip. If he falls now he won't be able to put himself back together when she leaves.

"I wanted to do everything for him. I wanted to be him. I–I still feel like I'm not ever out of his shadow." Waves a hand, the cards of a royal flush spread proudly between his fingers. Flicks his wrist, and they all turn into black jokers instead. "I found out two things about him, Aoko, things I never knew before. One of them will make you cry for him." Hands her the king of hearts, the suicide king, blood red with misfortune. "The other will make you hate him." Snaps his fingers, and the card tears in half.

Aoko looks at him, expecting him to restore the card to its original state. He loves this deck–it'd been one of his first. It's still one of the decks he goes to when he's trying to practice new tricks, if only because the cards are so well-worn they fit like a glove.

Something must show in his face, because Aoko stares at the card, as if just processing that it's actually torn apart.

"My father was the first Kaitou Kid, Aoko. He was killed by an organization that tried to hire him." He pushes the portrait. He doesn't know why he's expecting the mechanism to fail–no, he knows why: because he desperately hopes that it will.

But Kaito doesn't ever seem to get what he truly wants, and so the portrait works perfectly. He doesn't spare a glance backwards to see what expression Aoko's wearing–doesn't need that to haunt him. With a sharp tug on her sleeve he drags her into the room with him.

He's still purposely not looking at her as he goes over to the closet, activating the switches that swivel out Kid's damning costume. Without stopping he goes over to the heist display he'd set up not too long ago, and a 3D projection of all Kid's past, current, and future targets lights up the room, complete with annotated floor plans, escape routes, false identities, backup plans for his backup backup plans. He's just finished activating the display that will color-code his heists by success and organization appearances when he feels her hand on his wrist.

It's strange. She's so small her fingers are barely long enough to wrap around and touch each other, but he stops breathing.

"Is this why you've been so…weird?" she says, and when he still can't muster up the courage to look her in the eye she tilts his chin upwards and stares straight into his soul.

"If I say yes, are you still going to turn me in?" Kaito returns, voice flat. "I'll have this out of here before they can get here. I'm not going to stop looking until I get revenge, Aoko."

"I-"

"I'm not going to give up who I am because of you. I'm not ashamed that I-" He winces, turns away. "I am ashamed. I'm ashamed that he was a criminal who–who stole things. But I," Kaito chokes, desperation burning brighter than magnesium in a darkened classroom. "I'm not bad. I don't want to be bad."

"When did you find out?"

"Early last year."

"And how long have we been friends?"

"...eight years? Nine?"

"Wrong," Aoko says, pulling him close to her in a crushing hug. "We've been friends forever, Ba-Kaito. Do you have any chocolate in this terribly precise hideout?"

He's still squawking over her sudden movement, heart pounding, mind racing from happiness at how close she is. "W-what?"

"Sit down," says Aoko, who's noticed his very obvious stash of chocolate next to his just-as-obvious hot chocolate machine. "Drink up."

He obeys, coughing as the drink goes down too fast.

"I've always been jealous of Kid," Aoko says, and he hurriedly puts the mug down before he does something dumb like dropping it from sheer nervousness. "Do you know why?"

"Because he's irritating," Kaito says. "Because he takes your father away. Because he makes a mockery of the police force. Becau-MMMPH-"

"Because my father cares about him more than he cares about me, yes," Aoko says, shoving a chocolate bar straight into his mouth. "But mostly because you looked up to him so much." She laughs, suddenly looking very tired. "Keiko always said Kid, not Akako-chan, was my true rival in love."

"Wh-"

"You always dressed up as him. You couldn't stop defending him. You'd always show up if someone mentioned him."

Kaito swallows, throat a sticky mess.

"I hate that you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Aoko exhales. "But I'm…I don't know, it's nice. Now I can stop worrying about Kid confessing his undying love for you."

"I–what?"

"He'd acknowledge your skill as a fellow magician, spirit you off in the middle of a heist. The two of you would go flying on Kid's glider and elope and I'd never see you agai-"

Kaito has tackled her, having regained some of his misplaced wits. "Is that what you'd like to happen to me, or to you, Aoko? Seems like you've given it lots of thought-OW-"

"Get off me, you–do you even mop the floor in here? What if there's-"

"Oh, I'm not falling for that. I'm not getting you anywhere near any mops-"

"YOU IDIOT, I JUST-"

"You think I'm a rival for–that's just-" He starts laughing, unable to stop even as a cross look flits across Aoko's face. "I can't, I just–that's what you were worried about? But why? You didn't see me giving Kid any roses–I didn't transform you into Kid and princess carry you down the mountain-"

"Well, how was I supposed to see you giving Kid any roses if-" Aoko starts, but the situation catches up to her and she tries and fails to suppress a smile, mouth twitching. "Well, I'm not letting Kid take you away from me, then," she says, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff.

"You idiot," Kaito says, taking another bite of the chocolate–so he's stress-eating. So what? "Why would Kid take me away from you? It's you who gets to choose whether or not you leave."

"Why would I-" Aoko starts, eyes suddenly filling with tears. "But you said you'd be gone. You'd leave before I could find you-"

"If you turned me in," Kaito says.

"Oh, right."

"Weren't you listening?"

"No, I was taking in the scenery," Aoko deadpans. "It's a bit hard when I'm trying to figure out if this is all some elaborate setup for why we can't be together."

"Well, is it?" Kaito says, unable to keep the dread out of his voice.

"Is what?"

"Are you-" Kaito waves his hand in an attempt to include the entire secret room, but it comes across more like a chicken trying to dance. "Are you going to stay?"

"We are going to brainstorm ways to work with the police, if possible."

"...as if I haven't already-"

"Kid is dangerous! He gets-" An expression of horror crosses her face. "You get shot at! And that fall from last time-" All of a sudden she's scrambling into his space, fingers fumbling with the bottom edges of his shirt, and the unexpected wave of heat it sends through him makes him tumble back onto his elbows, breathless.

"Aoko, stop it–"

"You're such an idiot," she's saying, deaf to the world, tears falling onto his shirt. "You did that for Aoko, you could've died-"

A very pretty girl, very pretty legs intertwined with his, leaning so far forward he can see down her shirt just by breathing, skirt all nice and ridden up. His best friend, arguably his only friend, the one he wanted to be his so much he ran up to her and made sure the show never ended, because then maybe she would want him enough to stay after the magic ended, maybe he would be worth something without the spotlight he needs to breathe. Her face is too close–and, gods, the look she's giving him–all righteous anger and hurt and care and worry–does he even care about himself that much?

(No, and that's why Kid does the things he does–that's why the experts know he's suicidal.)

He still hasn't–will never be able to wash his hands clean. "But your father-"

"I thought," Aoko says, interlacing her fingers with his. "You said no more about fathers."

"...so I did," says Kaito. We'll figure it out. He pulls her down on top of him, and she collapses with a surprised huff. "You're not leaving, then?"

The blush on her cheeks is sweeter than any candy bar. "Do I look like I'm going anywhere?"

"It's so funny that you thought Kid was trying to steal me," Kaito says, "when all he wanted to do was this." Muscles aching, he flips her over, backs her into the corner, and kisses her.

oOo

OMAKE

"You're sure there isn't anything on my shirt?" Aoko asks, peering over her shoulder to glance in the mirror.

Kaito opens his mouth to protest that he does vacuum the floor, thank you very much, before a better retort comes to mind. "Hmm, I'm not sure–maybe I could tell better if you take it off-"

There is no mop chase. There is, however, a very frightened Kaito doing twirling somersaults, all the while trying to convince Aoko that the card gun should not become her next weapon of choice.

oOo