Work Text:
in the light of a cold morning, ranpo wakes up to an empty bed and warm sheets and the sound of the coffee maker going off in the kitchen.
he’s never really liked coffee, though. this thought makes him smile something soft, warm, trying in vein to contrast the ice in his toes and the snow piling up outside his window and the spot next to him slowly turning cold as well.
that’s alright, he supposes, it’s late enough in the day. ranpo gets up despite the way his sweatpants roll up and expose his legs to the chilly air. the too-big sweatshirt he wears is just warm enough to make it the only thing that matters to him at the moment. it’s soft enough to keep him content and long enough to keep him cozy and it still smells like dazai, who is still puttering around the kitchen (from what he can hear) to find what ranpo assumes is the sugar to his coffee.