The sound of his cell phone ringing woke Saguru from a sound sleep. He reached for it, hand smacking ground aimlessly, but by the time he reached it, it was already rolling over to voicemail. Seven thirty in the morning, two missed calls from Mum. Two? Why on earth would she be calling so early in the morning? A new voice mail notification popped up and he chose to listen to it, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Saguru, you still haven't talked," Mum's voice said over the phone in irritated English. "And you didn't answer my phone call yesterday." She had called yesterday? Oh, wait, Saguru vague remembered a declining a call during the date at one point, but he'd barely glanced at the caller at the time beyond being sure it wasn't work related. "So I'm coming over. I will see you at eight."

Saguru stared blankly at his bare wall, something very close to horror settling in his stomach. He disconnected from voice mail, not bothering to call Mum back; when she made up her mind, there would be no dissuading her from it.

The apartment, small as it was, was a mess. With his stress over the last week, he'd let everything go and dishes sat in the sink—all but the last of his silverware and a single mug—while his laundry had piled up in its bin in the closet. The desk's mess of papers looked more like a localized explosion had occurred rather than its usual tidy piles, and Saguru never had gotten around to buying a small vacuum cleaner for keeping the floors neat. He didn't want to think about the state of the bathroom considering he had put off cleaning it last week, intending to do it on the weekend except he had met Hiroto and things had gotten out of control. While Mum had seen him at his worst, if she walked in to this mess she'd think he was one step away from falling back into the mess he'd been then. While personally he found forgetting to clean after himself a bit different from not showering for a week and a half and manic, insomnia filled stretches of searching for leads as his life fell apart around him, Mum would probably see it as a backslide.

He lunged out of bed, staggering as his knee locked up before bundling up his futon and shoving it in the closet with the dirty laundry. Saguru hurried around, cleaning dishes and straightening papers and making sure the toilet was at least wiped down and scrubbed. If the apartment had been bigger, it might have been a problem, but for once the size was a blessing.

Saguru was attempting to button his shirt and start a pot of water for tea at the same time when he heard a knock—on the wrong door. She wouldn't.

"Saguru?" Mum's voice said as she knocked on Kuroba's door again. Apparently she would because Mum knew full well which apartment he lived in since she'd helped move him into it. She'd asked him to introduce her to Kuroba; since he had yet to do so, she must be taking matters into her own hands. He flicked on the stove, gave up on finishing the top two buttons, and headed for the door.

"Mum—" Saguru started, but Kuroba opened his door before Saguru could get any further.

"Yes?" Kuroba said. He looked awake and put together, but then Kuroba always had been someone who could be up for hours and appear perfectly unaffected the next day no matter how little sleep he'd gotten.

"Oh, it looks like I got the wrong door," Mum said. She smiled brightly at Kuroba. She didn't even look in Saguru's direction.

Kuroba did though, and there was a flash of smothered humor in his eyes that had Saguru wanting to yank Mum into the apartment to keep them from interacting.

"You must be the neighbor I've heard so much about," Mum said, still smiling away.

"And you are, Madame?" Kuroba said, falling seamlessly into his role as flirt.

"Kuroba, my mother, Hakuba Elaine," Saguru cut in before that route could go any further. Mum could and would flirt shamelessly just for the fun of it. Embarrassing him would be a side note. "Mum, Kuroba Kaito."

"I remember that name," she said like they hadn't discussed Kuroba a multitude of times over the past few months. "You're the one he was so caught up in in secondary school."

"Mum."

"Just between you and me, it was one of those clues that Saguru wasn't one for the fairer sex."

"Mother!" Saguru hissed. If Kuroba hadn't already known Saguru's sexuality, this would have been even more mortifying.

Mum finally looked at him, patting him on the shoulder. "Love, you never bring friends home, so I have to get my teasing out now that you're an adult."

"I wonder why I never introduce you to them if this is how you act." In retrospect, she'd been just as embarrassing to Mel, though not to some of the other friends she'd met over the years. He could only figure it was some sort of test, though a test of him or the friend in question, he couldn't tell.

Kuroba laughed, absolutely delighted by Saguru's embarrassment of course. Some things never changed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mum said. She dropped her teasing persona to smile genuinely. "It's been good to know Saguru has been talking to someone regularly since he moved here. He's had a bad habit of turning into a hermit lately."

"Mum," Saguru sighed.

"So he's said, but I think he's getting a little better."

Of course Kuroba would just carry on with the conversation as if Saguru wasn't there. "Could we at least have a conversation about whether or not I've become a recluse indoors instead of on our doorsteps?"

"But Saguru, I've only just met your friend," Mum protested.

"Kuroba, you're welcome to join us for tea," Saguru said, taking care of that issue.

Kuroba glanced back toward his apartment and tapped the doorframe for a few seconds before shrugging. "Sure. Actually, I got some muffins yesterday if you'd like to share. Takumi's sleeping in so it's not like we're having a family breakfast this morning."

Saguru winced. He hadn't been very quiet this morning had he? "I hope I didn't wake him earlier…"

"If you did, he just rolled over and went back to sleep." Kuroba waved them off. "I'll be there in a sec." The door closed behind him.

Saguru looked from it to Mum's smug smile. "You planned that didn't you?"

"I couldn't know for sure how he'd respond, but I'd hoped it would work out nicely." She patted Saguru on the shoulder and pushed past him into the apartment. "He seems nice. Cute too."

"Mum." Saguru resigned himself to her making insinuating comments the rest of the morning.

Mum stood in the middle of the room, looking over what had changed since she'd been there last. It was surprisingly little, just the plant, piles of papers on the desk, the extra chair Saguru had bought so Kuroba had a place to sit, and a cheap calendar with seasonal photos pinned to one wall. Mum's lips pursed. "You need more color in here. Maybe a bookcase. You've always had a bookcase."

"What would I do with a bookcase? I don't have books." There were a few library books for reading along with the literature club, but he hadn't bought any in months.

"You have plenty of books; they're all in boxes at the house." She crossed her arms. "It wouldn't be much trouble to bring them and a case over. Make this place look a bit more like a home."

"It doesn't need any decorations." The apartment wasn't a home. That had been the point of getting it. It wasn't the home he'd lived in with his parents, and it was about as far from the flat he and Mel had lived in as possible. Saguru wasn't sure what the apartment was, but it wasn't supposed to be the sort of sanctuary a home represented. It was a transitory phase. Or at least that was what it was supposed to be. He hadn't felt much when he moved in, and he had lived here for several months without thinking about it as more than adequate for his comfort and needs. It was fine how it was.

"At least get a table." Mum tsked at the two chairs pulled up to the paper piled desk. "You can't entertain guests at your desk."

"I don't entertain guests."

"Then I guess neither me nor your neighbor count for much then?"

"You're family. Kuroba is…" Could one explain Kuroba? "Kuroba is Kuroba." He'd gotten a second chair. That was more than enough indication that Kuroba was welcome.

She pursed her lips again, the way she always did when she had a lot of negative things that she was holding back from saying. Saguru ignored the expression and gathered up tea things. Meanwhile, Kuroba let himself in, a box of muffins in one hand, a kitchen chair in the other.

"I figured an extra seat couldn't hurt," he said, settling the chair next to the others at the desk.

Mum sent Saguru a look.

"Kuroba is my only visitor ninety percent of the time and you gave me half an hour of warning," Saguru complained. He tossed tea into his teapot, loose leaf, Mum's favorite brand as well as his own that was a pain to get ahold of in Japan. "There is no reason to get a third chair when this is the first time in months I have had more than one guest at a time. Also, there is little enough space as it is. Where would I put a table and three chairs?"

"Against the far wall," Mum said, nodding to the wall he shared with Kuroba.

"That would block the closet."

"Not if you had two chairs to the table and left the third at the desk."

"I'll consider it," Saguru said, not really intending to do so. Mum had the look in her eye that said it would be brought up again sometime when there wasn't company. If she was really insistent about it, she might just end up buying a table and moving it in without asking.

"Muffins?" Kuroba cut in, holding up his box.

"Thank you." Saguru settled the teapot along with tea cups onto the desk and…alright, perhaps Mum did have a point because it was rather crowded between his work things and dishes for three people.

"So," Kuroba said, smoothing the way as was his specialty, "might I say that it's also a pleasure to finally meet you, Hakuba-san. I admit I have wondered a time or two about what sort of woman raised him."

And how many of those musings had been in conjunction with cursing him? Saguru wondered cynically.

Mum clearly had similar thoughts as she laughed. "Saguru's very much his own man," she said, "but I suppose he came by a desire for understanding honestly. Between scientists and police officers on his father's side, and doctors and historians on my side, he was always around people looking to learn something."

"And what might your calling be?" Kuroba gave her his best smile and Mum batted her eyes and waved it off in good humor.

"I was a psychologist for years, though I'm retired now. You can blame me for that part of his interests; there were always a lot of books lying around." She smiled, likely remembering a much younger Saguru sneaking books out of her office and trying to apply psychological theory to actual people. He'd always had a bit of trouble with that last step as no matter how good an understanding he had in theory, it never seemed adequate enough in practice.

"Is that where he got that habit of asking for people's motivations." Kuroba shot Saguru a sidelong look. "I still think that as a detective, that's something you should deduce."

"And I still believe that the best way to understand someone's motives is to hear it from their perspective." Saguru stole one of Kuroba's muffins.

"And I think," Mum put in, "that there's value in both sides. Because sometimes people believe they're doing something for one reason, but it turns out there's more to it than what is on the surface." She patted Saguru's arm. "But enough about my interests. I wanted to meet you since you're the only friend Saguru has mentioned since returning to Japan. I'm glad that he has someone he can turn to nearby."

Kuroba was composed as ever, but Saguru got the impression that he felt as uncomfortable as Saguru did. Kuroba smiled and all but waved away Mum's words. "It's nice to have a neighbor that I can get along with, though I admit I was surprised."

"A decade and a half is a long time," Mum agreed. "I'd love the chance to talk more with you sometime."

Kuroba put on his best mischievous smile. "Will there be embarrassing photos and baby stories?" he joked.

"I'm sure something could be arranged."

Saguru supposed he should have seen that coming. Oh well. It would be awkward, but at least Kuroba wasn't likely to do more than tease him in private.

"Now, Saguru," Mum said, sipping her tea with a serious expression. "We need to talk."

"Can't we enjoy the morning first?" Saguru said.

"No, Love, if you put this off, you'll keep putting it off. Care to explain this last week?"

Saguru's shoulders slumped. Kuroba leaned back, watching but staying out of the conversation. "I did say it wasn't anything bad, Mum. I merely had a lot on my mind. I had a date."

Mum had been prepared for a lecture or maybe another reinforcing discussion about why isolation was not the answer to negative emotions, but whatever she was expecting, it hadn't been that answer. Her firm expression softened. "Saguru…." She caught his free hand. "When I said to try to be more social, I didn't mean for you to push yourself too hard."

"I know," Saguru said, voice a bit rough despite himself. He tried to pretend that Kuroba wasn't watching this discussion. "I am not pushing too hard, or at least I don't believe I am. It was to see if I could. If I was comfortable with trying… I'm not sure where I stand still, but it wasn't a bad time last night. I was nervous though."

"Does he know…?" Mum started, and Saguru shook his head.

"I said I wasn't sure if I was ready for anything serious and he was respectful about that. He's not certain he is either. I am still getting to know him. So far he seems like a nice enough person, someone I can talk to and whose company I can enjoy for an hour or two every now and again and that's enough." There was no pressure to have more than that, no drive to deepen a relationship before he was ready. No promises made to have an exclusive relationship at all, just a friendly date and a handful of text messages between them. Anything more than that would have been too much. "I'm sorry I didn't talk about it sooner." It had felt like talking about it would change something, or make it mean more when it was a big enough step already.

Mum studied his face and then nodded, seeming to decide that he hadn't pushed himself too much or slid back toward depression as she'd feared. "I'm glad, then. Not that you didn't feel like you could talk about it, because that's not a good sign about your readiness or not, but glad that it turned out well enough."

"As am I," Saguru said with a sigh. At some point he'd finished the muffin, having barely tasted it. He looked at the paper and crumbs, resisting the urge to occupy his hands with shredding the paper into smaller and smaller bits. "I'm doing better, Mum," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand and let it go; perhaps letting some of her worries as well. He could hope at least. "I'm glad," was all she said though, letting the conversation lie without prodding for particulars. Her eyes settled on the plant she gave him. "Might need a bit more sun for that.

It still looked healthy to Saguru's eyes, but he trusted Mum's instinct with plants. "I'll see what I can do."

"I have a stand that you could use for—"

"Mum, please stop trying to fill my space with furniture," Saguru said with fond exasperation.

"It is kind of bare in here," Kuroba said, adding his two cents. He sipped his tea with a bland, innocent expression.

Saguru rolled his eyes. He didn't miss Mum hiding a smile into her cup.

Mum brought up their work week, and they filled the span of a teapot and half a box of muffins with casual, friendly conversation. It was much more comfortable to share a meal with Kuroba and Mum together than Saguru had expected. The only teasing came to play with how he didn't have anything planned outside of work for the week at all since, as Mum put it, laundry and groceries did not count for an outing. Surprisingly, Mum didn't bring up the date again, and after roughly an hour and reaching the dregs of the tea later, Mum took her leave.

Kuroba lingered after she left, collecting his things with a thoughtful look on his face. "So that was your mother."

"That was Mum," Saguru agreed.

"She seems nice." Kuroba gave him a sideways look. "A lot more cheerful than I was expecting since you're so serious most of the time. She's definitely right that you could use some decorations though."

"Must you?" Saguru sighed, though he didn't really feel irritated, not like he did with Mum's insistence. Kuroba grinned, no ill will behind his words or expression. "She used to be less overbearing," he admitted. "But then I didn't used to need her to be."

"Parents," Kuroba said sagely. "It's how they show they care." He patted Saguru on the shoulder. "Now. I need to go show I care to my son, who is sleeping the day away."

"It's ten thirteen."

"Exactly! How are we going to do fun weekend, father-son bonding things and have enough time for his homework if he's sleeping in so late?" Kuroba shook his head with exaggerated horror. "He's falling into bad habits."

"This from the man who never seems to sleep." Someday Saguru should do the math and compare what he knew of Kuroba's waking hours, and comings and goings with his sleeping ones. It would likely yield worrying results.

"That is why I'm the parent and he's the child; I can pull the whole 'do as I say, not as I do' card."

*o*o*

Saguru found himself pulling out the box of photos Mum gave him and the album he'd made that night. He wasn't sure what he felt as he looked at them. A bit of guilt was certainly in the mix. Saguru supposed that was unavoidable. Despite going on the date, he hadn't really moved on yet. A picture of Mel jumping into a lake joined one of him being chased by younger cousins, both candid photos that showed him having fun and being vibrantly full of life. Those ones made Saguru smile. It was the candid photo of Mel lounging on the sofa as he read over a script, or the one his mother must have taken of the two of them laughing over something that made his heart ache.

There was a tap on the door, light enough that Saguru could have missed it, but he would know Kuroba knocking anywhere by this point. He paused over the photos, but left them where they were in favor of the door.

"It's late," Saguru said.

"I know."

Kuroba's expression was neutral on the edge of serious, his posture open and calm. Saguru couldn't guess what he wanted, but whatever it was, it wasn't going to involve Kuroba's usual joking front. Kuroba held his gaze, challenging him to make a choice. Saguru looked away first, stepping back to let Kuroba in.

Kuroba glanced around the room, just a slight tilt of his chin. Saguru felt a twinge of protective, possessive impulse as that look crossed over the photos. A ridiculous feeling; they were only photos and they didn't hold anything that Saguru wouldn't be willing to share.

"I'm sorry for earlier," Kuroba said, remaining standing. "I didn't mean to butt in on your family time."

"I didn't mind. I wouldn't have invited you in if I minded."

Kuroba's lips twitched, hearing his own words given back to him. "I know. I wouldn't have stayed for tea otherwise. Still."

"Actually," Saguru said with a sigh, "I'm glad you were there. Otherwise she would have asked a good deal more questions." He sat in his desk chair carefully not gathering the photos back up.

"Don't want to talk about it?"

Casual. Too casual. An offer perhaps. One that Saguru was welcome to turn down. "I would rather not be psychoanalyzed by my own mother. She usually is good with keeping work and parenting separate, but she blurs the lines when she's worried."

"Does she have reason to be this time?"

Kuroba's body language was still open and casual. Saguru chose to answer honestly. "I don't know." He nodded at the free stool in silent offer. Kuroba sat, perched like he would leave at a moment's notice if Saguru wanted him to. That was…Saguru wasn't sure what he felt about that. The emotional muddle could be shoved away for another day while he tackled the other emotional mess on hand. "I don't believe that there is reason to worry this time, but I've become a bad judge of my mental state and sometimes need that outside opinion. Mum has been helping with that."

"Is she why you moved back to Japan?" Kuroba asked.

"No. It was my decision. She suggested seeking out friends or doing something different, but I don't think she expected me to leave everything and move to Japan." He hadn't told anyone when he moved. Saguru wondered what the few people he'd still been in touch with thought when he all but vanished off the face of the earth. If he ever felt up to it, he should probably call or message to let them know he was alive if nothing else. "I don't quite know all of what I'm feeling right now, but going on a date wasn't a mistake."

"Okay." Kuroba nodded slowly. One leg came up so he could lean his chin on his knee, fingers laced over his shin to keep it there. "Tell me about him."

"There's not much to tell." But that wasn't true. Saguru wasn't a practicing detective, but he was still a detective. Kuroba waited patiently. "He's a business man, late twenties, likely better off financially or higher up at work. Enjoys art—I ran into him the same day I visited you at the museum actually—and seems to be fond of animals if his texts are anything to go by." Saguru frowned, thinking. "He texts frequently, which I wasn't expecting for some reason. I suppose most people in my acquaintance prefer to use their phones to make calls. Stubborn and straightforward considering I turned him down twice."

"Why did you say yes this time then?"

Why? "Because I wanted to know if I could," Saguru said, feeling each word out like he was tasting something new. "It hadn't crossed my mind since Mel died to look at someone that way, so I wanted to know if I still could and I now know that I can and that I can enjoy going on a date."

"But it still makes you feel guilty," Kuroba said, understanding in his eyes. "I've been divorced from Aoko for years and it still doesn't feel right most of the time to look at other people."

"Exactly." Saguru picked up a photo. In it, Saguru posed side by side with Mel after one of Mel's performances. Mel still had on his costume and stage makeup. They both looked happy. It bothered Saguru that he couldn't remember exactly which performance it had been, something period from the costumes, but while he could think of half a dozen possibilities off the top of his head, only Mel would have remembered which it was at a glance. He held it out to Kuroba.

As Kuroba looked at it, Saguru talked. "We were on a date that night," he said, not meaning the picture, seeing a different scene in his head. "Celebrating him getting a lead role—Mel was an actor. I'd had a long week between teaching and working with the police on the side helping with a string of suspicious deaths that might or might not have been interrelated. It seemed like a good way to relax for both of us." He could feel when Kuroba looked up from the picture though Saguru didn't see it. He was looking down at the photos spread across his desk without really seeing any of them. "We had a nice dinner out. Went for a bit of a walk after." His leg had felt fairly good that day. "I got a call while we were walking, about the case I was helping with. A new lead that was time sensitive, so we headed toward it. We didn't get to the scene though."

The smooth, glossy faces of the photographs slid under his fingertips as he ran a hand over them.

"I'm not sure if he was supposed to be the target or if I was," Saguru said. He felt detached for the moment. Analytical because that was the only way he could be and hold himself together talking about that moment. "There were three shots taken and two hit him and somehow missed me. It wasn't instantly fatal. He made it to the hospital and lived for a few days more before he passed. I tried to find the killer, but I couldn't."

Kuroba handed back the photo. Saguru returned it to the others as heavy silence sat between them.

"I," Kuroba started, stopped. He licked his lips and tried again. Indecision looked foreign on him. "Oyaji used to do all kinds of tricks on stage. Dangerous ones, sometimes, but he was always so careful about checking things, always. He had this one trick that used pyrotechnics. It wasn't anything huge but somehow that night someone missed that the pyrotechnics were too close to the compressed tanks for some other stuff and, yeah…" Kuroba's knuckles were white where they overlapped. The thin scars there stood out, years of working with wires and razors and tools. "I was in the audience that day. Never missed a show if I could help it." Kuroba shrugged, but nonchalant was something neither of them could pull off right now. "Never really properly dealt with it I guess. When I found out it wasn't a stage accident after all…"

"You became Kid," Saguru finished. "I've been told that it gets better after a while…"

"It does and it doesn't. I don't know how it is for other people, but I can go weeks without thinking of people who've died, and then something happens and I spend weeks when I can't stop thinking about it. Aoko never got that." Kuroba smiled bitterly. "For her, death is sad for a while and then she moves on. Same with Kaa-chan I think, though she never forgot Oyaji of course."

"Hmm." A year was still too soon to say what sort of person Saguru was with grief in long term. He didn't think he'd ever let go of Mel completely, not with how he'd died. Not unless he ever learned the how and why and could see justice met. But he wasn't sure he had the drive anymore to see that out personally like he would need to. That instinctual fear and paranoia of someone else getting hurt and the sting of having had every avenue closed off to him lingered too much.

"So yeah, you progress at your own pace I guess," Kuroba said. "Maybe if things are ever resolved, I could move on properly too."

"Resolution would be nice," Saguru agreed. Kuroba had been seeking resolution for over fifteen years. It was hard to say if he'd ever get it. Something must have shown on his face because Kuroba looked tired and serious.

"I'm close," he said. "I know I'm close. To one of my goals anyway."

"To finding what you're searching for or in exposing your father's killers?"

Kuroba just gave him a tight smile in response. Saguru should have expected that. Even now there was a limit to how open they were being with each other.

They were quiet for a while. Saguru straightened the pile of pictures and began putting them away again. He let Kuroba look at them as he filed them away one by one, not telling the stories behind them, but letting him see a bit more of Saguru's life over the past years and draw what conclusions he wanted from them. After the pictures had been cleared away, Kuroba cleared his throat.

"So," he said in a lighter voice, "the guy you went on a date with. Going to go out again?"

Saguru tapped fingers absently along the picture box. "Most likely. Provided he is interested."

"Can't see why he wouldn't be," Kuroba said.

Saguru frowned at him. He could think of quite a few reasons offhand why a second date wouldn't be in his near future. Saguru was not someone that made easy connections or had an engaging personality, and he had enough emotional and mental baggage at the moment to send someone like Hiroto the other direction if he started getting to know him more.

"What? He is if he said yes even after being rejected by you before, and he texts a lot. If he's still texting after the date, he's still interested."

"Fair enough," Saguru muttered.

"Don't tell me you have self-confidence issues about this sort of thing." Kuroba looked like he was torn between trying not to laugh and incredulity. "You seemed confident enough in high school."

"And in high school I carefully made sure that it was only ever women I flirted with and was whole and hale mentally and physically."

"I guess I'm not really someone who has much trouble interacting with the person I like or confidence issues," Kuroba said. "So I shouldn't make comments about it."

"Confidence, I find, is often a matter of situation."

"Or how well you can fake it."

"That too." And sometimes, Saguru thought, you could fool yourself as much as you fooled other people until you believed in that mask too. How much was that how Kuroba operated?

"Well, I hope that whatever your relationship or whatever's going on with this guy it's at least fun. And if it doesn't work out romantically, you might gain a friend."

"I could probably use a few more friends," Saguru mused.

"Well, you have at least one friend," Kuroba said with a grin.

Saguru smiled back. Yes, he did have a friend.