If there is anything he has to worry about, it was his feelings.
Shinichi sat in a strandmon armchair with one leg on top of the other, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers pushed together, his head drooping down beneath his eyelashes, and his viola in front of him. As usual, he had isolated himself deep inside his mind palace.
Shinichi had been fighting with his feelings for a year, unable to express or to confess it to you. A part of him you are unable to surpass of the barrier he had created for himself, deep within was his beating heart that only beats for you everytime he sees you at work everyday.
He felt satisfied by the vivid memories that were playing back in his head because, on the first day of your case with him, your statements were abrupt and had an impact on his heart that left an imprints. All alphas were aware that whatever their soulmates said would leave an impression on them and be carried by them if the other person shared their sentiments. It's typical to see Omegas reject their soulmates, let alone experience anguish that will soon give way to intense, dark emotions.
He sighed, he played the memories once more:
A woman in alarming pink was sprawled out on the floor and had been declared dead four hours prior, giving Shinichi plenty of time to consider his reasons and the events leading up to her passing.
Standing by Shinichi's side with his arms crossed, Meguri had to explain his own justifications. Shincihi quickly became perplexed as a result of it. He did not like it, especially what had occurred after he had told Ran everything right away.
He still struggles to come out of his hole and doubts himself, trying not to let the hurtful emotions get to him. He believed in her and had taken all the necessary steps to make her safe yet is was not enough. He—
"That's brilliant." He soon turned to the voice that made his heart skip a bit; he had heard he'd partner up with someone in the department who, as stated by Meguri, had never had a partner before.
"What?" Shinichi cocks his head, bewildered. Meguri left his side.
"I mean," You cough, fixing your throat. "Well, your dedication is brilliant. I've never seen anyone like it in the department. You are something."
He gave you a genuine smile: Thank you. Not everyone is likely to say it to me."
"What do they normally say?"
"Piss off."
After letting out a few audible gasps, Shinichi quickly averted his gaze from the bookcases in his father's room and exhaled in relief. This recollection brought him comfort and was unique to him in case he hadn't seen you at work for several days following the incident for which he had reprimanded you in the car, which had caused him to feel ill and anxious.
After reprimanding you (always), Shinichi felt guilty; it wasn't his fault that he had behaved in this manner, just like his former coworkers. After the Black Organization, when he was Conan, it was his defense mechanism. Sooner, one by one, they all left him, leaving you who stayed the most. He thanked you for handling his attitude, his cold glares, his unpleasant words, and his haughty decisions, which, of course, usually make your hair pull out. The parts of your statements that refer to his history pain him the most, but he quickly comes to realize that they are accurate.
Shinichi is incapable of expressing his gratitude to you adequately; all he has accomplished is to irritate you and exacerbate your connection with him. He adores it. He adores the focus you placed on him, the way your brow furrowed in irritation when he made a remark that quickly escalated into a fight, and the intense worry you felt for him whenever something went wrong and resulted in an argument that would go back in the department by the following day without speaking to one another.
Regardless of what transpired between you, you continued to return to him. Shinichi is perplexed as to why, but he is aware that something he did caused you to be drawn to him like a magnet.
All of the people in his life come and go, but you remained the longest, appearing to have been there for him from the very beginning of his Conan era. He has everything in life—friends, wealthy parents, the ability to fulfill his desires—yet he still feels out of place.
After he told Ran everything, she departed.
He doesn't blame her for how she reacted, and he understands that.
He soon learned to accepted it, moved on the pain, soon the piece of him was placed back in his self the day of the first case you had with him. Ran never made him felt that way even he was as Conan, he had denied the feelings he has was just a illusion, that is something it felt uncomforting and wrong as two opposites magnets are not right for each other.
He was happy that he had accepted Meguri's offer after he insisted on him working in the field of investigations for such a long time. When he was around you, he enjoyed his work even more. He worries that one day you'll find a partner, even if you've already made him feel a particular way and he doesn't know how to express it, which is why he occasionally stares at your neck, and, God knows, he hopes no one notices.
He rose up, letting his blue robe flow perfectly behind him, and picked up his violin. He began by playing with a calm, steady tone before ratcheting up the tension. He developed a soft mechaholic that at calm his mind. The melodic tune somehow combined his emotions, including wrath, uncertainty, doubts, and despair, but it also moved quickly and chased after the listener as if the sounds were racing.
His blue robes would spin as his body moved in time to the violin's strings being plucked by his fingers, and the bow's rhyme-like motions were mirrored by his body. As the notes rise in pitch and the tone and mood change, uncertainty sets in—a feeling he ordinarily ignores around you but which he couldn't help but compare to butterflies. He dislikes it without understanding why, so he keeps playing.
The notes are much higher and more resonant, and his bow is arching back and forth as if he were pulling. His heart is racing, and sweat is pouring down his face as a result of the powerful tones, which make him feel as though his violin's fingerboard and the bow he was holding were squeezing him. He was furious. All the sudden. Mad that all the people he had done for them had abandoned him; mad that he didn't confess to you; mad that he acted in this way; mad that he kept these sentiments inside.
He blames himself. He always will. And if people are telling him not to, he has to. No one will see this side of him anyway, and no one will ever know who the real Kudo Shinichi is after all.
He was taken by surprise as the violin's string snapped, jolting him back to reality. He moaned in defeat, his fingertips scratches covered with blood. He returns to his chair, flips the violin over, and then sits back down while gazing at his bloody fingertips.
He slowly brings his fingertips to his lips as a vision of you appears out of nowhere. He inhales deeply and exhales forcefully as a feeling of comfort and calm sweeps over him. He imagines that you are kissing and cooing at his fingertips, and he kisses you in return.
He rubs his other hand on his face.
He was followed by a wave of disdain, telling him that it was wrong of him to view you in this manner as though he had committed a crime even though he hadn't broken any laws.
He had done this many times, and he disgusts himself.
-
"What the fuck are you wearing?"
You could have sworn Shinichi was dressed in a tuxedo suit underneath the big black coat and blue scarf he was wearing. Although you're accustomed to seeing him in a blue suit and green tie, you've never seen him dress like this in such a fucking sweltering heat.
"Do you like it?"
"No, you look ridiculous. The forecast claimed there was neither winter nor cold wind coming."
"Well, at least this is a surprising comeback for you." He outstrenched his gloved hand. You gave the file that was tucked under your armpit.
You turned your head away and gazed at his new attire. He was in good shape, looked decent for his style, and had a nice selection of clothes. After all, you have been recovering in your apartment all days, and although you started your heat, it quickly ended. Perhaps this is a surprise return for you. His striking good looks made any woman fall under his spell with just one glance. You let out a deep growl in your throat, which you quickly disguised as a cough.
No, no. Let other women be seduced by him. After all, you witnessed him engrossed in the numerous fan mails he mentions to you before while waving the mails in your face in an attempt to tease and irritate you.
He also has a blog: "A Holme's Deduction Welcome to all!"
What a rip off.
"So a man with twisted lips? Or two faces?" Shinichi turned to you; he spread the files all over your table as he lean in. A whiff of his perfume stung your nose; it was marvelous, but somehow it was so strong that it made you pull back from the strong scent.
"Twisted lips," you answered, pointing at the picture of the scar man with his upper lip lifted in a grosteque way. Ugly. "He had escaped, and we'll make sure to bring him back right on time. And oh, he is at an abandoned house just right across the east."
"Then let's go into it." Shinichi smiled at you. "Better to start in advanced."
-
Driving across the street was quiet, and the neighborhood appeared deserted and ominous. Years had passed with no neighbors or newcomers entering the area; it had been left to Moses and the ground. Looking above, the modern home stuck out the most; it was unlike any other and appeared to have been immaculately clean.
"I am guessing the old owner came here from time to time as a housekeeper." Shinichi shut his car door and stood next to you. "Judging by the state of the house, it sure does."
"Wrong." You opened the gate. "This is an abandoned house? How come a housekeeper cleans it from time to time?"
"Perhaps someone is already living there?"
"Then let"s find out."
It does, much to your surprise. The entire living room was spotlessly clean. A prepared meal could be smelled wafting across from the kitchen, and the kettle's rattling and unsettling squeaking noises indicated that it was ready. Shinichi twisted his torso to face the fridge's family photos. It was brand new, and the date the shot was taken was scrawled on the frame.
He walked toward you while crouching down and glancing at the family portrait while scrunching up his nose. Shinichi flashed the frame in front of your face caused you to jump momentarily.
"Jesus," you hissed at him. He pouts and cocks his eyebrow. "Can you not do that every time?"
"Can you not scared?"
You grabbed the picture and started staring at it while rolling your eyes. When you compare them side by side, you will see that both are fresh. Then you rose up and rubbed shoulders with him before approaching the picture frame that hung on the wall below the television.
"We should look around more," you suggested, placing the frame on the mantlepiece. "I'll look upstairs; you stayed here."
"What the hell am doing here?"
"Guard."
Shinichi settles down on the couch as you climb up the stairs, his chin resting on his chest and his fingertips pushed together. He begins to put puzzle pieces together in his head, connecting them with invisible lines that resemble pins and strings.
He abruptly stood up, indicating that something was awry. He hasn't previously told you about something he saw when he entered this house.
You hadn't spotted the missing firearm that had been taken from the center of the couch directly above him.
-
Pulling the curtains off in the child's bedroom where the empty and eerie stressts can be view in this semi circle window. Shaking your head, you turned only to be stop when a shadow passed by you. You hold your gun at the ready, followed to where the shadow had landed from at the open door. Pushing yourself to entered, you aim your gun, slowly navigating the room slow and quite pace.
You inhaled deeply, letting it all out through your nose. You gave out a short gasp as you swallowed a lump of saliva, and your hair stood up after a hanger fell out with a clang.
Before you know it, you've dodged the bullet that was headed straight for you, your ears ringing from the sound of the gunshot, your head spinning to see the deranged man aiming his firearm directly at you. You collided with his body, pushing him against the door and giving him a good headbutt and a kick from his stomach that caused the man to gasp.
He lifted you up with his firearm, which was pressed against your throat just below your chin, as he continued to push you forward with his strong arms. You then pointed your gun at his ear and shot it, giving him a bloody, gory look that caused him to drop his firearm and cover his bleeding ear with his hand. Inhaling, you reached for your baton in your back pocket, but before you could open the pocket, he gave you a swing, and the butt of his firearm struck your skull.
You then restored your balance as the blood rushed to your head, and before he could aim, you dealt him a solid punch to the face. Your vision is slowly becoming black, but you are somehow managing to fight it off. From what it appeared, the man was not aiming again at you but rather fending off someone from left to right.
Before using his baton to strike the man, Shinichi gave him a kick to the ankle. Using his remaining strength, the man groped for his firearm, which had fallen to the ground when his body and Shinichi's had an early collision. The man howled in anguish. He points his firearm at Shinichi, and because of your limited field of vision, you were unable to think of anything else or give the idea a second thought.
Bang Bang Bang!
You turned your head aside because you knew it was too grotesque to stare at what was in front of you. You struck the man's head three times with bullets. You drop your gun while sobbing, shivering, gasping, and feeling guilty.
"Hey, Hey. You okay? I got you." Shinichi kneeled at your side, trying to comfort you; heck, he even tried to embrace you with his arms and cradled you against his chest, yet you slapped him, scratched him, and pushed him away. "It's okay, shh. The man needed to—"
"Fuck whatever he needed to, Kudo! I just killed a man, fuck, again!" You sobbed, grining your teeth hard. You wiped your tears, struggling to breathe to allow your lung to fill the air—not the blood—of the man you just killed.
Again?
"Look, upon reading the files, you missed something—"
"Fuck the files!" You stood up abruptly, taking deep, shaky breaths. You open your eyes. Shinichi urges himself to wipe those, but he allows himself to pull back. Is not the time. "I'm not like you, who see tiny details, and I know well to myself that I just killed another person."
Your body went slack from the shock before you could continue speaking, and it wasn't until then that Shinichi's warm embrace caught you before you fell to the ground.