There was a slight twitch from his thigh. A simple reaction from not being touched in so long. Kaito glanced at him briefly then looked back to the wall but for the most part there was hardly a reaction. If Hakuba held him in the same place as those he randomly helped then that was an answer for Kaito.
Friends? No they couldn’t even be called that. They were acquaintances at best or on that teetering edge of being polite or comfortable. It was unbearable. Especially after wanting this for a couple of years now. Closing his eyes he struggled to accept his fate and loss but …
He liked him.
Once the bandage was deemed acceptable and his work done, Hakuba pulled back to clean up the supplies on the coffee table. “You’ll be all right… but I want you to be careful with your leg for a couple of days. Please don’t tear the stitches- I’m not a cosmetic surgeon. Actually, I’m not a surgeon at all, and I’m assuming that you don’t wish to go to the hospital…”
He laughed, then, tiredly, and pushed the rest of his supplies- sans trash -into the duffel. “Where can I dispose of this, incidentally? I don’t particularly think that my having your blood in my things would be helpful for preserving your identity…"
When he glanced back to wait for the answer, he frowned. Kuroba really did look miserable… hiding it or not, it felt wrong. The detective reached a hand for his shoulder, gently laying it there.
"It’s all right…”