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It's a little funny to think that Philip doesn't have a heartbeat. Why would he? He isn't alive. But somehow the idea has never struck him. He's never paid attention to his own heartbeat- or rather lack of- and neither has anyone else, understandably.
He stays indoors all day reading up on any topic he stumbles upon. Even when he passes out to transform into W, his body is usually left somewhere safe from the heart of the fight. All in all, there just aren’t a lot of occasions for Philip to get so hurt that a pulse check is necessary. So you can’t blame him for not noticing.
Though Philip never paid his own heartbeat much mind, he made it a habit to observe Shoutarou’s.
It wasn’t anything big at first. Shoutarou was the only person that Philip’d come into close contact with in forever, and though he’d read about the motions of breathing in the Gaia Library, he’d never seen it in action prior to his audience with him.
The first few nights he just watched- this man who pronounced himself Philip’s caretaker, even though it was clear he was still struggling with being his own caretaker.
Shoutarou tossed and turned in sleep a lot . Philip assumed he was suffering from recurring nightmares. His chest pulsed in quick succession as his eyeballs darted around wildly under his eyelids: trapped looping in a fraction of torturous memory. He gasped short and sharp breaths, Philip thought he might choke.
From what Philip had gathered, the detective that came to rescue him that day- the one who died- Narumi Soukichi, who gave Philip his name, died because Shoutarou went against his direct orders, going off on his own recklessly. Philip studies the tear tracks drying upon Shoutarou’s sleeping face, and makes a note of what grief looks like mixed with guilt. Shoutarou’s heart beats frantically, almost like it’s running from something on its tails- something looming and horrible.
Possibly the death of Narumi Soukichi.
“Don’t you need sleep?” Shoutarou demanded from him once. “You could be resting up instead of watching me sleep, you know.” It sounded like an accusation, though no harsh words were thrown.
Philip never needed much sleep, one of the many unusual things that marked him different from the common man. He didn’t get tired easily, you could say. He could stay up for hours and hours by Shoutarou’s bed, counting the rhythm of his heartbeat. But Shoutarou looked so tired when he said that to Philip.
Unlike Philip, Shoutarou needed his rest, and he probably hadn’t been getting enough of it, if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication.
Philip still had a lot to learn about the W driver, and he needed Shoutarou to be in good condition for tests. If less time spent observing his new partner was what it would take to improve it, then Philip could learn to sleep.
Heartbeats are fascinating . It’s been used as a definitive signal to determine the signs of life, when it’s such a fickle thing. Just take Lily Shirogane, if an example is needed. Her heartbeat stopped once, because it was the only way the Gaia Memory would be expelled from her body. For a second, she was dead. But equally easily as it stopped, it resumed beating steadily, shocked back into work.
“Ah, you’ve probably never seen an AED before, have you, Philip?” Shoutarou said when Philip told him about the case.
“A what?”
“An…” Shoutarou seems to think about it. “Automatic… what’s it called?” He mumbles to himself, rubbing his chin in thought. “Actually, this is something you could probably benefit from looking up.”
And Shoutarou doesn’t look like he’s anywhere near giving him a better answer than that, so Philip complies, sinking into his own head.
“I think you mean an Automated External Defibrillator, Shoutarou.” He says.
“Yeah, you’re right. That.” comes his partner’s voice from the outside.
Philip picks up a book and skims through it briefly. “That’s not how AEDs work, Shoutarou.”
“No?”
“No. AEDs’ shocks are meant to stop the heart when the patient is suffering from arrhythmia. In order to get the heart to start working again, CPR needs to be performed.”
He steps out of the Gaia library and comes back into the agency, to his waiting partner.
“Huh.” Shoutarou responds pensively. “The more you know. I thought it would be a good keyword to search for.”
“And it was .” Philip says. “Now you know not to go around trying to electrocute people back to life.”
“Who’d do that .” Shoutarou grumbles, and tugs at the brim of his hat. “Like a crazy scientist in a sci-fi book or something.”
Philip raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you read books other than your detective novels, Shoutarou.”
“What kind of person do you think I am , Philip?” Shoutarou protests. Just as Philip starts to tell him just what kind of person he is, his partner holds up a hand. “Wait.” He says. “Don’t answer that.”
Philip closes his mouth. They both know what he was about to say anyway.
“Why am I arguing with you about this in the first place?” Shoutarou sighs. “What was the business with the Invisible dopant, then?”
Philip grins. “I have this theory…” He begins.
Shoutarou is very, very alive, and it seems like he’s making sure that everyone knows this. He talks a lot, to Philip, to Akiko, to various clients, and the animated rise and fall of his voice always manages to hold a part of Philip’s attention, regardless of what he might be doing at the moment. Shoutarou makes a lot of gestures when talking too, ones he thinks makes him look cool. (They are not cool, but they’re very Shoutarou. )
He is a very active person, a restless energy buzzing around him, and it’s hard not to be infected.
When they transform into W, Philip feels Shoutarou’s heart beating. It has the effect of grounding him, that makes him feel secure in a body that isn’t even his. Shoutarou is regularly a very welcoming person, but this is an entirely different thing. This is looking through a different pair of eyes, this is hearing through a different pair of ears, this is disorienting, this is as natural as breathing. This is what it means to be two in one, to share everything .
He likes it when Shoutarou calls his name while transformed as W.
“Philip.” He’d call out loud, like they aren’t sharing the same consciousness, like Philip couldn’t feel him reaching out even before Shoutarou realized it himself. Like verbal communication is necessary at all. Shoutarou calls to him, and Philip hears it twice, once from inside his head, twice from the soundwaves racing through the air. So Philip responds in tow. “Yes, Shoutarou?” Always, without hesitation, even when Shoutarou, too, would be hearing it twice. This , this back and forth, this is them. W is a conversation.
It takes him a while to let reality soak in. Shoutarou is hurt, terribly. He seems to be burning up, too, from wound infection. Commotion buzzes around him as Aki-chan once again lays another cold towel on his forehead. He’s still. A little too still that it’s worrying. Terui Ryuu is out there wrapping up the case.
Philip huddles closer. Even closer than that. He needs some sort of sign, he needs something to steady himself, some tangible proof. He holds his breath, and puts his ear to Shoutarou’s chest.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Philip listens, mesmerized.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
He wants to reach out, to feel its jump under his palms, but he wonders if that would be taking it too far.
Shoutarou has been getting hurt far more often than he did previously. This irks Philip endlessly. Shoutarou never learned how to cherish himself nearly enough, so it’s up to Philip to do so. He wants to. He wants to shield him, the way Shoutarou has done for him . He can not.
Philip stays pressed close, hoping it would be adequate.
“Philip…” Shoutarou calls in his fitful slumber. He’s trashing in his sleep. Could it be a nightmare? “Philip?” He sounds alarmed, distress leaching into the corners of his voice, like he’s searching for something.
“Shoutarou.” Philip replies readily. “I’m here.” He almost gives in to the urge to reach forward and take Shoutarou’s hands in his, to untangle his clenched fists, to chase his nightmares away.
“Shoutarou-kun…” says Aki-chan. Her voice trembles. She wipes away the sweat on his brows. She sighs a little helplessly. “If Philip-kun could see you now, he’d surely scold you.” She murmurs under her breath, quietly, like she’s afraid Shoutarou might hear.
And Philp would like to scold Shoutarou, actually, for acting rashly in battle.
Later, when Shoutarou is fully healed and back on his feet again, he smiles sunnily and says, “There’s nothing to be worried about, really! See?” He swings his arms about in bravado. “After all, If I’m down, who’d protect this city?”
Terui Ryuu, bless his heart, does not look impressed. “Take better care of yourself.” he says. “We know you’ve been skipping meals, Hidari.”
“Who? Me?” He makes a big show of gasping, hand to his chest for emphasis. “I would never . Mick and vouch for me. Isn’t that right, Mick?” He turns to look for the cat curled up on the couch by the door.
Mick swishes his tail noncommittedly.
“Traitor.” Shoutarou grumbles. “Biting the hand that feeds? That’s cold, even for you.”
“Mick is my cat before yours, Shoutarou.” Philip chuckles, and raises his hand to give Mick a rub on the head. His fingers pass through, but Mick seems to have sensed something regardless, ears twitching as he stretches his neck up to nudge Philip’s noncorporeal palm. It makes him smile, despite the situation.
“Give me a little more time.” He says to Mick, who purrs lazily. Then, to the agency, “I’ll be back soon.”
Philip makes his way to the work desk, where his partner sits sheepishly, trying his best to fend off Aki-chan’s lecture. “Shoutarou.” He says, and for a moment the air settles to a stop. “Wait for me, partner.”
Spring breaks. His own heart starts beating.