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So. Kudou had a kid and Hattori was trying so hard not to be weird about it. He was failing miserably.
Not like it was going to ruin the party. The guests weren't going to say a word to him — any insult to Hattori would've been insulting the hosts themselves, and they were untouchable, if only on this day. Miss Mouri was visibly tired but glowing, smiling bright each time someone asked her about the baby, and she held him just a little bit higher. He had her nose, the gentle slope of her forehead. His eyes, however, were piercing blue, already promising trouble — just like his father's. And Kudou was every bit the image of a proud young father, arms around his family, attentive to a fault, and bragging about every minor accomplishment of the baby. He was currently regaling his guests with tales of how strong the kid could grip his finger. Clearly he inherited his strength from his mother.
Hattori stood close, basking in their light. His own admirers, who flocked to him like moths to a flame, maybe didn't notice the way he was laughing too loud at jokes, how he stood taller each time Kudou called out to him for whatever reason, and how he wilted back immediately once he lost his attention. But there were enough observant people around. There was going to be talk.
Poor thing, Kaito thought. His failure didn't make his attempts any less admirable. And Kaito did have a thing for tragic heroes.
He looked around the room, spared another glance at the small circles of people. He'd absorbed as much gossip as he cared to: the young Suzuki heiress was thinking about challenging him again, some sort of telephone scam was causing trouble at the TMPD, several people were mourning the loss of Kudou to his happy marriage. One sad sip of his champagne, devoid of bubbles now. And he pushed himself away from the wall.
He kept his eyes on Hattori as he waded through the people: still awkward, check. Still uncharacteristically helpless around his admirers, check. Kaito had no plans of interrupting if he was having fun — clearly, that wasn't going to be an issue.
"Hey, Hattori."
"K-... Kuroba." Ah, a little slip there. They've known each other for, what... five years? But some things never change, do they. Kaito didn't mind it as much as he probably should've. He minded Hattori's frown more, the suspicious glint in his eye. Well, out of his detectives, Hattori did know him the least, he supposed.
"Come with me for a sec?"
Hattori looked back at Kudou — a group of young detectives formed a wall around him, and judging by the excitement in their voices, they'd keep him busy for a while. "...sure."
Kaito turned on his heel and marched through the room, then down the hall. He passed by more guests, another woman with a baby bump being fawned over; more looks aimed at poor Hattori; a man with a scarred face smoking outside the front door. He didn't turn back to see if Hattori was still following him; he had some confidence in himself, and he knew that if KID called out, his detectives would follow.
There were some limits to that, though.
He heard Hattori falter behind him when they reached the front gate, and stutter to a stop by the time Kaito got to his bike.
"I thought we were getting some air?"
"We are."
"We are ditching the party." Oh, sweetness, he sounded so offended! Kaito wanted to laugh, but it would've ruined the whole plan. Hattori would've run back inside like he was going to tell on him to Kudou, and not spare a single glance back at Kaito as he did. And that wouldn't do.
"No no no. We are letting our dear friend sweet-talk all the guests he was so polite to invite, without making him feel guilty for not having enough time to entertain us too." He shrugged. "You will be back tomorrow anyway, won't you? You'll catch up without having to shout over all the guests, and you'll even get to hold that adorable menace of a baby without some older lady trying to snatch him from you for 'holding him wrong.'" Hattori shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. Some progress, there.
"Come now, I know a good spot. It'll be worth it, I promise."
"I..." One more look back at the house. Kaito did expect hesitance, but not how sweet Hattori would look with that tiny frown as he contemplated.
"Besides, it’s a spot I've shown to all my detectives. It would be a shame to leave you out."
Kaito knew he won from the spark in Hattori's eyes. Of course, he hated being left out, maybe Kaito should've started with this. No matter.
He held out the spare helmet, waiting for some retort about Hattori's own perfectly good bike, and had to suppress the grin when nothing came. …well, Kaito did wait until Hattori drank from his own champagne glass, and his wasn't non-alcoholic like Kaito's.
He didn't start this with the purest of intentions, admittedly.
Not that he felt any shame over it. Even if he had bothered to, the way Hattori settled behind him on the bike seat would've distracted him thoroughly.
Hattori tried to keep his distance, leave some space between their bodies — the first lurch of the bike took care of that easily. And once they got going, Kaito drove just fast enough that Hattori's loose, hesitant hold on his waist turned to a real one.
The afternoon traffic wasn't going to be kind to them, and they were on a bit of a timer, but Kaito couldn't help but take the scenic route anyway. As the Sun climbed lower and lower on the sky, the city around them was turning a vivid yellow. Maybe he couldn't shake the nerves like he usually did when he rode down the streets, not with Hattori still holding onto him, but he didn't mind. This wasn't stage fright, just anticipation.
There was nothing to be afraid of, anyway. Kaito had been meticulous, scripting in his head the many different ways this encounter could go — in a moment of insanity, he compared it to the branching routes of a dating sim. It fit his plans too well.
Finally, his goal came into view, and not a moment too soon. The edges of the clouds were turning pink already. From street level, it was nothing special: just one of the many office buildings under renovation. More notably, one of Kaitou Kid's landing spots, though only formerly. (He wouldn't show it to his detectives otherwise.)
He parked his bike in the familiar little alley, where the wires and green mesh were carefully cut away for easier access. He was relieved to see no one bothered to fix it yet. To Hattori's credit, he followed without much fuss, or even a single remark about trespassing. Maybe he had expected something like this.
Unfortunately, Kaito could guess another, more likely reason.
The building was picked apart completely, its concrete skeleton now bare. The thick, grey pillars littered the floors like trees. The city, with its colours and noise, could only sneak past them in glimpses, and even then, it was muted by the dim light and the dust inside.
The climb upwards was a little depressing, Kaito had to admit. It would've been, even if Hattori wasn't silent behind him like a shadow. It was tempting to fill the silence, so that the echo of their footsteps would sound less foreboding. It would've been easy, too — Kaito's profession demanded that he be a good talker (or liar, if one was being insultingly reductive). People tended to forget that he needed to be a good listener, too. And Hattori might not have communicated with words, but from him, this quiet was as loud as a scream. Kaito was bracing himself for the dam to burst — so much so that he eventually stopped wondering about what Hattori would think of the view up on the rooftop.
When he opened the door, he remembered again why he picked this spot.
Ahead of them, the Sun was still high enough to stun them, to blind them, so that the surrounding buildings looked like dark obelisks. Once the haze from their eyes lifted, they could see them for what they were — glimmering glass palaces, reflecting the light in some places, and letting it through in others. And past them, the horizon was burning, a furious red that was promising wind for the next day.
This was it, the sight that Kaito would seek out whenever he felt too weak for the burdens he took on. Even if his eyes couldn't get used to the light, he would find his way to the railings blind, the sun rays warm on his skin like an embrace. When he stood there, he could feel like he wasn't just confined to the dark, to being KID. Sometimes he could be just... a guy, looking at the sunset. And if this view was now diluted by the memories of all the previous times he's been here, tired and weary and so goddamn sad, that was okay, too. The view alone would not fix him, he never expected it. But there was something to be said about being surrounded by beautiful things when his thoughts were everything but. And when he returned, he would think of the last time he'd been there, and know that he made it through, that he'd keep making it through, and he'd keep returning here, over and over.
This is what he wanted to share.
He turned around, let his back lean against the railing. Behind him, Hattori stood, with his back bent, and his head tilted to the side, as if he couldn't muster the strength to hold himself straight. He was trying to take in the sunset, the golden windows, but his eyes were vacant regardless. His mind wasn't fully there.
That was alright. Kaito wasn't expecting a miracle, and he especially wasn't disappointed. He turned his back to the cityscape, elbows on the railing, and took Hattori in, as he was: tired and pained, and gilded in his vulnerability. The sweet, slowly blinking embers of him - Kaito wanted to wrap them in his hands, breathe them back into a roaring fire, and treasure the burn of his palms afterwards, as proof that he'd once had him.
Kaito felt like he spent minutes watching the words slowly bubble up in Hattori, the furrow of his brow, the twist and twitch of his mouth giving him away - in reality, it was probably only a couple of seconds. Hattori wasn't all that good in keeping things to himself, especially when something bothered him.
"...Kuroba."
"Hm?"
"Did I... did I make a fool of myself? Back there?"
Kaito considered lying. "A little." He considered saying more: he's seen worse, there's no shame, no one who matters would care. Hattori needed his platitudes as much as he needed the truth sugarcoated. So, even as his shoulders slumped, Kaito kept quiet, and waited.
After a minute, "Did Kudou ask you to...?"
"...to do what?"
"To uh. Get me out of there?"
Kaito blinked. "No."
"Aahhaha, well, you know, maybe I thought... maybe he wanted to save me some face? Make it look like we were just getting some air?"
"No." He pushed himself away from the railing, and walked closer to Hattori. "Listen to me. If he wanted you gone, he would've done it himself. But I know for a fact that he wanted you there. He still does. I only took you away because... you looked like you needed a break."
"I... I was fine."
"Of course you were," Kaito sighed.
He wasn't sure if Hattori was in denial, or if he just didn't want to show weakness. If it was the latter, he was doing a poor job at it, and it didn't take a detective to tell. It started with the fact that Hattori wasn't fighting him or the obvious sarcasm in his voice.
They were getting nowhere. Hattori needed an outlet, a tiny nudge so that the torrent of emotions might spill out of him. So Kaito turned back towards the horizon, deliberately casual, and he sighed again: "Aah, I can't stand it. Those two really are too lucky." He felt Hattori's eyes on him, but there was no response, so he continued: "It's looking like the beginning of an old American sitcom. I'd almost say all they need is a house with a white picket fence, but. You know. They already got a mansion."
"They deserve it."
"Sure they do. I'm just saying."
"I! I just think. That after everything that happened, after all that mess? This is, it's the least that they should get." Well, wasn't that the truth. You're right, Kaito wanted to say, the words almost through his mouth, before Hattori continued: "It was all a long... a long time coming. I'm happy. For them."
Kaito took too long to reply, so Hattori said: "Seriously. I'm happy for him. I really am."
"I know that. So am I."
Not denial, after all. He recognized the expression Hattori was making, the very same that he had had to force off his face before. The effort it used to take! He also recognized the iron will trying to reign in emotions. Hattori obviously had less practice than Kaito, and no wonder — it went against everything that Hattori was. This time, Kaito couldn't admire the attempt, it only made him sad.
He wanted to say, You don't have to pretend with me. He wanted to say, I know how you feel, but he knew it to be the cliché that it was, that it would sound like.
But there was no denying the heartbreak that mirrored Hattori's now. Kaito's was older, more manageable. He had more time to force himself to keep moving, to heal, to figure out what he would've needed when it first hit. The same things he planned to give Hattori now.
He wasn't blind to how this benevolence aligned with his own interests. Even now, he was tracing the drawn line of Hattori's mouth with his eyes. Part of him wondered what it would be like to see it smiling instead, see a smile he put there. The other part wanted to brush his thumb along it, and let his mouth follow the path of his thumb after.
Patience, he told himself.
Hattori's expression changed. "I should go back."
"Why?" He couldn't help but blurt it out.
"You said it yourself. He wants me there."
"You were there. And you'll be back again. You need to take some time for yourself, too."
"I just did. You made sure that I would." Hattori smiled. That was worse. "But I'm his friend."
Hattori's greatest pride, and the source of his grief.
Kaito stood frozen, blood rushing in his ears. And he thought: Hattori never expected his feelings to be returned. Not once did he think that he would have a chance. And, despite it all, he was going to stand on the sidelines, and grin as his heart broke in two. Because that's what friends do.
A man so loyal... no wonder Kudou treasured him, if not the same way Hattori wished.
There was a brief flash of a memory: a wedding, a party he spent on the bottom of a champagne glass. The calls petering out after. Kaito chased it away with a shake of his head.
The Sun fell past the skyline without them noticing. Without it, Hattori's eyes seemed black.
Kaito couldn't stand the thought of Hattori hurting himself further.
"You should crash at my place tonight."
"Wha-"
"To make sure you're not doing anything stupid." It was stupid to say, and they both knew it.
"I'm not gonna-"
"Then to make sure I'm not doing anything stupid!"
"Kuroba?"
He was scrambling. "That party was full of boring cops, it was making me antsy! So! To keep an eye on your friendly neighborhood phantom thief, you should stay over. I have movies, I have drinks, I even have this recipe for cookies I've been dying to try out but I was too lazy to actually do it, and also, there are a couple of tricks I wanna run by you to see if you can figure them out, so. So."
Hattori was watching him with his head tilted. Then, at last, "You know I'm a 'boring cop,' too, right?"
"You're Tantei-han, you don't count."
"Uh huh. So movies and drinks? And cookies?"
"I guess we can also go rob a museum if we get bored."
"That would go against making sure you're not doing anything stupid."
"Sure would. What do you say?"
Hattori heaved a big sigh. He glanced back to the roof that would lead him down this roof, maybe back to Kudou. Kaito wondered if he would be left behind.
"...let's... let's say I agree. What happens after?"
"In the morning, we'll go back to Tantei-kun. I hope you don't mind, I volunteered us for clean up duty to make up for jumping ship. We'll catch up with the two of them, gawk over the baby, and then grab your bike and be on our merry way. And... we'll discuss if anything else comes up in the meantime."
This wasn't what he planned at all. The threads of carefully planned out conversations laid behind him, tangled and torn by his own fingers. He saw himself not the way he looked on the outside, but the way he felt: clumsy and stupefied, heaving for breath. And he saw Hattori the opposite, for the man he was past the weight of his emotions.
The sky was filling with stars above them.
"Alright," Hattori said. "Let's go."
Kaito wrenched back the relief that would've made him skip to Hattori's side. Kept his steps slow as he led Hattori down the stairs, through the dark floors.
Hattori's arms were heavy around him when they got on the motorbike. This time, he chose the quiet route, through sleepy streets.
He was already making plans.
He was going to become exactly what Hattori wanted. And he was going to keep him.