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Heiji stood tall in front of the Kudo mansion with a guitar in his hand, in the middle of the glistening night. The moon stood high up in the sky, shining down on him like a spotlight, with the stars guiding him.
He looks down at the guitar, gripping the fret. He was never the type to be vulnerable, let alone the type to serenade. He was always the type to look for the “perfect moment”, the kind that would allow him look “cool” to the other person’s eye. But he could never look cooler than Shinichi Kudo.
Shinichi Kudo, the guy who shows up to a crime scene injured and hurting just to prove a point. Shinichi Kudo, the guy who wears a smirk in the face of danger. Shinichi Kudo, the guy who wears the brightest grin in the world, Heiji would call it the sun.
Ever since Shinichi came into his life, offered him a home when he needed it the most, Heiji never looked back. That man managed to break something in him, like as if every single barrier in his soul that he even had.
Shinichi changed him. Changed him to be bolder, to bounce back harder in hopes that in the Tokyoite would look at him.
Which lead him here, holding a guitar and mustering every single ounce of strength, hoping his roommate was still awake enough to hear him sing. The dark Osakan lets out a sigh and pulls up the guitar, twisting its pegs to check its tune. Soon, he plucks the strings and lets out a tune, staring at the window where his best friend may be.
It was another night in the Kudo mansion. Shinichi found himself staring down at a pile of case files, examining each detail in each paper, guided by a warm lampshade on his desk. His fingers tap the paper, trying to come close to a possible conclusion, or at most a deduction.
He buries his head on the piles on his desk and sighs. Even after several coffees, his eyes remain droopy and his mind was fatigued. Another sigh, pressing his fingers on his temple, wanting to focus.
Before he could try again, a melody strums into his ear. He looks around.
“'Di ko man maamin. Ikaw ay mahalaga sa akin.”
Oh? Music, in the late night? He was sure that Heiji was asleep. He stands up and walks up to the window. The raven-haired boy scouts around, his eye looking for the nearest concert or possible night performance.
But no, his eye quickly darts to a familiar dark skinned teen who wields a guitar.
“'Di ko man maisip. Sa pagtulog, ikaw ang panaginip.” Heiji croaks a bit, noticing the other man was now watching. Shinichi’s eyes glistened by the sight. He took a deeper breath and continued strumming. No going back.
(“Malabo man ang aking pag-iisip, sana’y pakinggan mo,”) Shinichi remembered the first time he heard Heiji spoke Tagalog. It was when he was visiting Osaka for a case, with Heiji requesting for help. The Osakan had to request something from his father, something that he didn't want others to hear. By the gods, Shinichi was enchanted; he was sure that Heiji was talking out of his ass to his father, but something about hearing him speaking Tagalog drawn him closer. (“Ang sigaw nitong damdamin.”)
Heiji felt like running away. His mind was an absolute mess. The urge to just scream and drop the guitar was running in his veins.
But Shinichi wore the widest fucking grin so he strummed harder. “Ako'y alipin mo kahit hindi batid,”
(“Aaminin ko minsan ako’y manhid.”) Shinichi moved away from the window and grabbed his jacket from the desk. He quickly walked downstairs, letting Heiji’s voice be his guide.
(“Sana at iyong naririnig,”) Shinichi opens the front door, smiling as Heiji notices a small shimmer in the Tokyo elite’s eyes. (“Sa’yong yakap ako’y nasasabik.”)
A small chuckle leaves Shinichi’s lips as he walks further. “Seriously?”
The strumming began to lower and slower down as Heiji matches the other boy’s grin. “I though’ ya’d like a surprise.”
“Well, this is definitely one of them,” Shinichi closes their distance, their noses nearly touching with the guitar between them as a barrier. “You didn't have to do this.”
“Kudo, I want’d ta,” Heiji softly smiles, as his fingers continue to fret some more chords. “I’d sing a million songs for ya an’ nev’r get sick o’ it.”
“Hattori,” Shinichi’s head shifts bit, his blue eyes focused on the darker boy’s lips. He looks away. “I don’t want to fail you.”
“Kud-”
“I already failed my relationship with Ran, Heiji,” Their eyes meet. “What more with you?
The strumming went down to a sudden stop. Not a single pluck of string nor chord could be heard.
Shinichi’s eyes continued to look at him, searching for a sign. He didn’t know what sign exactly he was looking for, but just something.
Frozen in night were two boys, with the moonlight cascading on them.
Heiji fretted his guitar again. “Ayoko sa iba,”
Shinichi lets out a bewildered chuckle, shaking his head. His eyes slowly concentrated on the small, growing grin Heiji wore. (“Sa'yo ako ay hindi magsasawa”.)
“Ano man ang 'yong sabihin,” Heiji’s head leans a bit, meeting the light skinned man’s forehead. The only thing he could focus on was the small bit of shine in his eyes. “Umasa ka ito ay diringgin.”
All Shinichi could do was close his eyes, letting his forehead rest on Heiji’s as the music in his ears ease him down. He didn’t understand Tagalog, but he knew that whatever Heiji was singing to him was pure devotion. From verse to bridge, to the final chorus, he narrowed down on one line.
“Nais ko sanang iparating,” Heiji’s eyes softens, quietly slowing down on the chords again. He watched Shinichi slowly return to his. “Na ikaw lamang ang siyang aking iibigin.”
Silence once again, as Shinichi closes the distance between their lips, cupping the darker teen’s cheek.
He breaks the kiss apart as Heiji puts down the guitar. “Hattori?”
“Yeah?”
Shinichi’s hand rests on Heiji’s cheek, with the other man slowly leaning to it. “Do you mean it?”
“Abou’ what?”
“Singing a millions for me, and not getting sick of it?” Shinichi searches once again for a sign.
A small pause. Heiji grips on his guitar, a small smirk growing on him.
“Always.”