It’s true. It’s true what they say, that good things come to the right person at the right occasion. Nothing more, nothing less and given at the right time. They’re right. I think it hit me… - Alden Richards’ letter to Maine Mendoza.
“She brought out this humor in him, and he brought out this depth in her. There was a magical quality about them. Andrew has an ability to do emotional gravity really well. Emma’s presence is so light. Put them together and they had spontaneous grounded realism. They were so naturalistic. They never fake things.” - Marc Webb
>> Discarding this one too. Have fun with it. This time it’s ghost?Conan and Kaishin pairing.
When he opens his eyes, the boy is leaning in close enough for their noses to touch. Kaito goes cross-eyed for a moment, before relaxing back into his pillow, looking up at the curious blue eyes peering down at him and through to the bare ceiling overhead. By now, Kaito is more exasperated than frightened, and only rolls over onto his side so that his back is to his little ghostly problem, and tries to return to sleep.
Ten minutes of tossing and turning later, he gives up sleep as a lost cause, throwing back his covers and clambering out of bed. It startles the ghost, its head snapping up from where it had been examining its legs, one of the limbs blurred and washed out where the sunlight is passing right through it. It’s a little morbid, in Kaito’s opinion, but children usually are, and Kaito simply walks past him for the bathroom.
The first time he saw him, he thought his heart had stopped from the shock at the unexpected intrusion in the bathroom when he was getting out of the bath, and then subsequently because he realised that he could see the floor tiles through their body. Then, the cowlick had registered, and the cold fear flooding in his veins had been for an entirely different reason altogether.
He’d taken the first train to Beika, anxiety like sharp nails clawing from beneath his ribs. The Mouri detective agency did not turn up his friendly adversary, and he had nearly fallen flat on his face in his haste to get to the Kudou residence. Why, oh why had he removed all the bugs from the detective’s home, just because their business with each other had been concluded, what with Kudou’s silencing of his crows and his own destruction of Pandora? There had been no news that he’d known of, no indication that Kudou had been something big or that they had missed, so why -
When he came face to face with the heisei Holmes himself at the detective’s own bedroom window, he’s nearly fallen out of the tree in fright. The detective stared down his nose at him, entirely unimpressed, arms folded across his chest.
“Kaitou Kid, I presume?”
The relief that had crashed over him at the familiar haughty tone and the hateful, challenging upward tilt of the detective’s lips stole the almost manic energy he’d been working off on, and Kaito had laughed, head too light with the knowledge that his ex-rival was alright. Kudou’s smirk had quickly melted into an expression of concern, the detective leaning out of the window, a hand reaching for him.
“Oi… do you want to come in? You don’t look too good.”
To be honest, he felt a little like a wreck, and more than just a little foolish. Still, he had clambered in through Kudou’s window, the detective clicking his tongue at how cold his hand felt when he was helping him in. The detective had sat him down, and handed him a can of room temperature soda, bearing his scrutiny patiently while Kaito attempts to collect himself.
“So,” Kudou says, steeping his fingers before him. “What brings you here without so much as a rudimentary disguise?”
Kaito nearly slaps himself in the face, freezing when his fingers come into contact with bare skin. Damn and double damn. He wasn’t even wearing a cap.
“Uhm,” Kaito scratches at his cheek, feeling terribly left footed. “Do you happen to have a brother?”
As he had suspected, Kudou Shinichi does not have a brother, nor a cousin, or even a distant relative that might remotely resemble him. He’d seen the sneaking suspicion in Kudou’s eyes, and before the detective could start on his own questioning, Kaito had flung a smoke bomb onto the ground and given him the slip.
He’d wandered through Tokyo after a quick breakfast, milling around the city for a bit. There was no point in returning home immediately, not when he was already all the way here and far from his comfortable bed. Besides, he had thought that it would be good to do something outside of his daily routine of work, research, and home, and giving himself a little time for his thoughts to settle.
It hadn’t been a hallucination - at least, he didn’t think that it had been one. There was simply no reason for his mind to throw up an image of tantei-kun out of the blue. The last time he checked, he was pretty well-rested and not suffering from any health complications that he knew of, and nor had he been experimenting with anything that had hallucinogens in it. The little boy had looked solid enough in his peripheral vision, but had been see-through when Kaito looked closer, like he was a watercolour painting, and someone had taken a paper towel to him and blotted him out, leaving only a vague, faint impression behind.
Edogawa Conan had been studying the mirror when Kaito had saw him, a disquieted look in his eyes, before the sound of the plastic basin clattering to the ground had drawn his attention. Those eyes, still a vibrant, captivating shade of blue, had widened a split second after they’ve locked eyes with each other. The boy’s lips had moved slightly, shock splashed across his face, before the line of his figure had blurred, and he had simply vanished.
It had been the open look of shock that had convinced Kaito he wasn’t simply a figment of his imagination, and that something had really gone wrong. But then he had verified for himself that Kudou Shinichi was still well and kicking and alive, and people who aren’t dead cannot be ghosts, can they?
The house is empty when he returns.
He doesn’t know what he is expecting, or what he is hoping to be looking for, but he scours the house from top to bottom anyway, even going as far to peek into the washing machine and the kitchen cupboards. A rational person at this point would simply have dismissed it as a trick of their mind, and that had been what Kaito would have been content to do, up until his flatmate returns home from work at 8.
He had looked up from the sizzling pan of chicken to call out a greeting when he heard Rin return, or to tell him that dinner would be ready in ten, but whatever he had wanted to say had met an abrupt death on his lips because trailing quietly behind his flatmate with a small hand fisted in the leg of his pants was none other than his not-actually-Kudou-Shinichi-tantei-kun.
“The chicken is burning, Kuroba-kun.”
He had been appreciating the art piece in front of him when someone had brushed against his left shoulder, and there had been a quietly murmured “excuse me” before cold metal closed around his wrist with a snick, and he had turned around to find himself handcuffed to none other than Kudou Shinichi.
“I’ve caught you now, Kaitou Kid,” grins the smug looking detective.
“Uhm - who? What? What are you arresting me for?” Kuroba immediately begins babbling, mind reeling. “I’m not - who are you?”