Hey guys! Guess who's back to do a quick few hundred before running away to study because finals hell week is upon us college folks.

I wanted to do a quick update on this story because as of two hours ago, Spider Webs and Spider Silk have been heavily edited. I wrote both of these many years ago when I was still young, and had a really inexperienced view on rape/noncon. The previous plot line and writing were unacceptable and frankly horrific, and I apologize if you had read this prior and suffered through the deeply problematic themes. I would appreciate it if you had the time to go back and reread both, since the plot has changed drastically too. Thank you for sticking with this story, and I hope my portrayal of the events are much better now.

This is a direct continuation from chapter 9.

Warnings: Victim blaming, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy rationalizations (whoa the whole boatload)

/

His trembling knuckles are nearly as white as the porcelain bowl he's currently hunched over. The auditorium is only down the hall, and he can still hear the cheers ringing in his ears. If he tries even harder, he can faintly pick out the crisp, smooth laughter that could only belong to one man.

His stomach lurches at the thought, and he chokes on acid as he heaves again.

Why? He coughs wetly. He didn't understand. This was supposed to help him. It was a reminder of how his shortcomings could lead to drastic consequences. He screwed up and got caught by Spider. He was too weak, so he came. He enjoyed what Spider did. Because he was weak. He couldn't afford to fuck up now that he was the Kaitou Kid. Spider's involvement with him was proof of that.

He tries to stand, but his arms are shaking too much for him to push himself upright. So why?! He let out a shuddered breath, feeling a sob squeeze his chest, trying to escape. He refuse, pressing his lips against his knuckles, biting down. Why did seeing Spider out of disguise put him right back to square one? It was the same as that night. He was sitting on the cold floor, puking his insides out. Weak, useless, and too fucking fragile. Was it because he still wasn't good enough? Yes that was probably it. He was a failure as the Kaitou Kid. A cheap imitation compared to his father.

Cheers came from outside again, and he hears the impassioned shouts of Spider's alias. He couldn't breathe. All of the intrusive thoughts were returning full force. He had hid them so carefully over the last few months, shoving every single slip-up behind a locked door. Yet they didn't leave him alone. No, they pushed against the door relentlessly. The lock had broken off, and he was making do with staples. Then tape, and now he's sitting against it, pushing it close with sheer desperation and pleas. He can feel them slipping through the splintering cracks, cold and dark whispers everywhere.

His hands wrap around his lower abdomen as phantom aches shoot up his hips and between his legs. He's gasping for oxygen, wheezing in frantic intervals. This isn't possible; he hasn't been touched there in months. He doesn't want to be touched anymore- why?! Why is he hurting?! What's going on-?

What if it was him? What if the noises outsides were just illusions? Spider's actually in here right now, putting him under the trance of those cursed red eyes. What if he was being violated right now and he had no fucking clue? He couldn't breathehecouldn'tbreathhecouldn'tbre-

He feels arms on his shoulders, yanking him away from the death grip he has on the toilet bowl. Fuckfuckfuck he's here, he's here and he has no way to escape. He slams his arms against the chest that he's being pressed into, trying to turn away. Don't touch me don't touch me stop it please just fuck off please-

"Kuroba!"

He even knows his name now. His cheeks suddenly sting, and he thrashes around even harder. His identity is exposed. He's going to visit him at home and at heists now. He's not safe anywhere. He's in danger. No, he is a danger. A danger to everyone he knows. Aoko, Nakamori-keibu, Hakuba, Akako, Kudo, everyone would die if he stayed. So he has to go….yes that's right…disappear. It would be best. He would disappear and not have to deal with this anymor-

"Kuroba!"

There are warm hands encircling his stinging wrists. Why were they stinging? Were they wrapped in silk again? Was he tied? Was he trapped?

"Ku-Kaito, please. You're going to hurt yourself. Please stop!"

Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch

"Hakuba-kun, step aside."

The warm hands leave him, and suddenly he feels as if he had been thrown into the arctic tundra. Cold and alone. He lets out a keening whine, suddenly wanting the warmth back, but what if it was-

Cool hands brushed against his forehead, and he sees a burst of red light, smelling a cloud of comforting cinnamon spice.

Everything falls black.

/

The sounds of heavy breathing bounce around the bathroom walls, echoing for what seems like eternity.

Hakuba swallows, feeling sweat drip from his hairline as he pulls Kaito's limp body closer. Akako stood over both of them, a protective aura practically oozing around her. He didn't understand what had happened. He and Akako had rushed after the magician, and found him collapsed against the toilet, hyperventilating and violently vomiting bile mixed with traces of blood. He had pulled Kaito away, grabbing his icy hands, rubbing them, trying to get him to snap out of his frenzy. But Kaito wasn't there. He was miles and miles away, eyes dull and dilated. His lips moved without making noise, and his face was a mess of sweat, snot and tears that never seemed to stop. Hakuba had pulled him close, wincing as fists slammed against him repeatedly. His only response was to continue whispering soft reassurances, hoping one of them reached Kaito.

Nothing worked. Not the calming exercises, not a slap to the face, not even the hug. He had felt utterly useless and far away, even though Kaito had been pressed against his chest, the closest he has ever been.

Then, he had started scratching at his wrists in a chilling fervor. Hakuba had grabbed his hands, pleading him to stop, but to no avail. When he had been on the verge of a panic attack himself, Akako finally stepped in. He had no idea what she did. Only that one moment ago, she was caressing Kaito's forehead, murmuring softly. Next thing he knew, Hakuba had to scramble to catch the magician's sudden dead weight.

"Is he..." Hakuba trails off; brushing Kaito's clumped up bangs away from his puffy eyes.

Akako frowns at the surprisingly endearing motion, and shrugs.

"I think it would be best if we went someplace more private, Hakuba-kun. We should leave before….he finishes." Her voice is cold when she mentions the last part, and Hakuba feels his body freeze over too.

"You're right…I'll call my Bayaa. She'll be here in ten minutes at most. We…we can discuss this over tea." He reaches for his phone with one hand to send the text.

His other hand is wrapped tightly around Kaito's limp one, shaking.

Akako doesn't comment.

/

In which I return from hiatus to destroy this poor kid full blast, no restraint.

Akako and Hakuba team up to finally discuss Kaito's state of mind. When will Conan finally join the fray? Who knows….who knows….

(This is definitely shaping up to be HakuKai)

Listenn, I have an essay to start right now ahaha. Let's pray for finals week!

Reviews are appreciated, I love you guys.