Out of fear that Hakuba was leaving Kaito gripped onto his hand and looked up worriedly. When the detective sat down next to him he relaxed some and leaned against him. Shoulder to shoulder he began to stretch out his legs. He hissed and jerked his knee up on his bad leg. Glancing down he watched blood start to seep through the denim. A memory of Hakuba fussing at him about popping his stitches peeked through then vanished. Unable to stop he snorted then began a steady building laugh. Till he had to cover them with his hand. It was the irony of it that got to him.
“I tore my stitches.” He sniffed through some of the giggles.
The seriousness of the conversation dissolved again as Hakuba glanced down, then up at Kaito’s face at the announcement. The expression he wore was one of pained and tried patience, jaw slacking as he ran his free hand down the side of his face. “Oh, bloody hell, Kuroba-kun! I told you not to…! GOD!"
He hung his head in defeat, fingers carding through his hair, rubbing at the back of his head in frustration. It was humorous, he had to admit, but it was no time for literary cycles and inter-piece references.
”God, you’re going to have to take your pants off all over again so that I can restitch you up… bloody hell. You’re a fucking lunatic, you know?“
At least he just sounded mildly irritated instead of genuinely upset.