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The absence of a knock no longer startled Edgar, it always happened at the same time everyday. The door would be loudly thrown open followed by a raven haired man making himself at home in Edgar’s apartment. They had both settled into a routine like clockwork- though he couldn’t remember exactly when. He supposed that oddly made sense. He rarely realized what was happening when the younger detective was around until much later. Not that he minded. Ranpo always gave him the time to catch up.
“Hello, Ranpo.,” Edgar greeted, closing the book he had been reading in favor of giving the younger man his full attention. Partly because he would throw a fit if Edgar didn’t, but also because he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on Ranpo when he was around. Ranpo’s very existence demanded to be the center of attention. Again, not that he minded. It always made him feel better to know all eyes weren’t on himself.
The taller of the two, expecting Ranpo’s visit, had moved from his usual seat at his writing desk to the small living room. More of an obligatory place than anything, he never had any visitors so there was no need for many places to sit. Just three chairs, a small table, and bookshelves. He couldn’t recall any room of his apartment that didn’t have at least one bookshelf. He was a writer, after all.
Ranpo merely ignored him, throwing himself down on one of the chairs with a huff. Said chair was big enough for Ranpo to curl up on comfortably- Edgar had bought it specifically after Ranpo started to make a habit of showing up at his apartment. His heart had almost stopped when the raven haired man started to complain about the stiff, unused chairs. He had gotten them mainly for their looks, he hadn’t thought about comfortability. He wasn’t going to be sitting in them and certainly no one else was either. After that, Edgar traded one of the stiff chairs for a more sizable one for the younger man to fit his whole body on. He didn’t mind the fact it didn’t quite fit his aesthetic- it reminded him of Ranpo.
Karl hopped out of Edgar’s lap, deciding the detective’s looked more comfortable. Edgar took this as a sign for him to stand, setting his book on the small side table sitting next to him. The raccoon had, surprisingly, grown attached to Ranpo rather quickly. Karl tended to stay close to him and rarely got along with other people- not to say he was mean. No, far from it. He was just picky with the people he let touch him. Yet, when the raven haired man had scooped the animal up for the first time, not so much as a warning hiss had escaped Karl. The raccoon merely shifted to a more comfortable position in the man’s arms. After that, he would shift from Edgar to Ranpo’s arms as he saw fit. Always coming back to Edgar should the writer’s anxiety grow.
“I am willing to guess you had a tiresome day, huh?,” Edgar questioned as he made his way over to the other man, long legs bringing him to stand in front of Ranpo in just a few strides. While it was apparent the detective was annoyed by the pout evident on his lips, Edgar couldn’t help but to phrase it as a question. He just wanted to hear Ranpo talk about his day instead of sulking.
“Tiresome doesn’t even begin to describe it!,” The detective exclaimed, quickly sitting up and accidentally startling the animal who had just gotten comfortable on his stomach. “They had me running around doing all the work all day!” Ranpo swung his arms around wildly before crossing them with another huff of dissatisfaction while Karl climbed to the back of the chair, seeming to be waiting out the tantrum.
“I’m sure they had their reasons, Ranpo.,” The brown haired man assured. He couldn’t help but worry about what exactly they would need the detective’s gift so much in one day for. He knew Ranpo tended to hate work and that, while the agency depended on him, they tried not to ask too much from him. He decided not to ask, however.
“It’s really no surprise they need my help so much- what would they even do without me?” Ranpo replied, jumping up from his chair to stand in front of Edgar with his hands on his hips. The shorter of the two had to look up to meet the writer’s gaze, which was constantly shifting away as if he was looking at the sun. Maintaining eye contact had always been a struggle for Edgar- that was even more so when he knew said eyes were reading him like an open book.
Edgar fell silent for just a moment too long, his brain trying to force the thought of something happening to the detective away. He didn’t want to think about that. They all would be lost without the green eyed man in their lives- there was no point in questioning that fact. He had to change the subject before his overactive brain latched onto the thought. “We all would truly be lost without the world’s greatest detective.,” he answered with a forced smile, finally holding eye contact with Ranpo. His gazed stayed fixed on those emerald orbs.
“Well, duh!,” The raven haired man replied, reaching up to give Edgar a couple pats on his shoulder before turning on his heels. His ill mood seemed to disappear as he swiftly made his way towards the kitchen. “Now, what are you making for dinner? I’m starving!”
Edgar would like to lie and avoid the sheer embarrassment of admitting that he had filled his cabinets with food he knew the younger man liked a little too quickly. Logically, it made sense when the visits became frequent to the point Ranpo was spending more time here than his own home. A good host would make sure their guest felt at home, he had thought. Now, the writer had learned to throw trying to think logically out the window when dealing with the world’s greatest detective.
He had still thought of Ranpo as a rival when he started his surprise visits. Was still trying to prove himself better. He supposed a little part of him knew it was more than that, but accepting that was too much for him back then. It was still too much for him now- but he would suffer that just to take in all the time with Ranpo he could. Time was a precious thing.
“We both know you have already decided what you want, Ranpo. Just tell me so I can make it.,” Edgar replied, shaking his head slightly as he let Karl climb onto his shoulder. “Unless you want to play a guessing game again?,” He added, following after Ranpo with a soft smile on his face, Edgar started to roll up his sleeves.
“Yep! You got it! Being around me must have a good effect on people’s minds.,” The detective stated, his tone mocking but in a light, playful way. Edgar had once latched onto that tone, thinking it was meant to belittle him. He knew better now. Even if he had to remind himself sometimes.
With a playful smirk, the younger man lifted himself up onto the dark grey countertop. His legs lazily kicked back and forth as he watched the taller man make his way into the kitchen soon after him. The room was small, as expected for someone who lived alone. It held the same dark aesthetic as everything else in his home- which made the three brightly colored jars of various candies sitting on the counter stick out. Edgar never had a particular taste for sweets, but he could never say no when Ranpo would offer him one. They somehow tasted better when coming from the black haired detective.
“Of course! Being around one of the world’s greatest minds would help intellectually stimulate anyone.,” Edgar agreed, walking to the fridge and letting Karl hop on top of it. It was the animal’s usual spot when the two men were making food- if he wasn’t sneaking a bit of it when they weren’t looking, that is.
“Shhh!,” Ranpo interjected, putting a finger to his lips and waving an arm for dramatic effect. “As much as I love people talking about how amazing I am- stop stalling to give yourself more time to think.”
A soft laugh escaped the writer’s mouth, a light blush dusting his cheeks. The detective was right, of course, but only partly. He did want a bit more time to think, but he had spoken the truth. Anyone would benefit from being in the rays of Ranpo’s bright light. Especially someone who had locked themselves away from that light for so long like him.
“You had a stressful day, so you’ll want something warm and comforting that you don’t have to put too much effort into eating.,” Edgar started, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out a few things. “Dumplings?”
Edgar couldn’t tell you exactly when their little guessing game had started, but he did remember Ranpo had started it. He thought it was fun to see Edgar try and figure out what was going on in that brilliant mind of his. It was anxiety inducing to say the least. He was so scared he would disappoint Ranpo- make him realize the writer wasn’t anywhere near as capable as the detective. He treated the simple quest for dinner as a lifelong mystery he’d die if he got wrong… That was anxiety for you, though.
“Yep! I saw a lady eating them on my way here.,” Ranpo explained, pulling a sucker from one of the jars of candy beside him and ignoring the scolding glance Edgar gave him out of the corner of his eye. Listening quietly, Edgar continued preparing dinner. He had learned to work around Ranpo while cooking as the detective rarely moved to make the job easier for him. “It seemed to be cheering her up, just a bit.”
“Why was she upset?,” Edgar questioned. He figured dinner would take a bit longer than usual, dumplings took a bit of time to make. Ranpo must have not been actually starving or else he would have picked something quicker. The taller of the two didn’t mind, he would always be there whether Ranpo needed someone to make his dinner or to just listen. Just being there was enough.
“She found out her wife had cheated on her- I mean, it was so obvious. How could she not have known to start with!,” He answered, sticking his legs straight out with a pout on his lips. “It wouldn’t take a master detective to figure it out.”
And with that came Edgar quietly listening as Ranpo explained how he knew so much about that woman. Apparently he had passed by that shop often on his way over, sparing her a glance whenever she was there. Usually she was with another woman and, while she was smiling and laughing, the other woman kept absentmindedly stealing glances at her phone. Not only that but the skin around the band on her ring figure didn’t match her partner’s, meaning she wore it less. Even Edgar would have figured it out, should he had been looking.
The rant went on as the writer- recently turned chief- continued making their meal. Honestly, if Ranpo wasn’t there, he probably would have been too engulfed in his work to eat. Or too tired to try to cook anything. Karl definitely seemed to appreciate the detective’s influence on their meals.
Edgar finished dinner right as Ranpo’s rant came to an end, which he couldn’t help but think was planned. The dumplings were a little bumpy- nothing compared to someone who actually knew how to cook- but they were good. At least, Karl and Ranpo thought so when he gave them a little bite.
Ranpo stayed seated on the counter while Edgar moved to the table, Karl following close behind. They ate in a comfortable quietness that seemed to only happen when the two were alone. As if it was meant for only them to experience. Edgar adored these moments. They didn’t have to be doing anything in particular, just be there. Together. He didn’t know what he would do without these moments.
“So, how’s the new book coming along, Ed?,” Ranpo asked shortly after they both finished their meal. The detective looked rather satisfied and his mood had certainly perked up. It made spending so long on dinner worth it. It was always worth it.
“It’s… coming.,” Edgar replied, fiddling with the dishes as he stacked them and readied them to be washed. His shoulders visibly sunk. He knew there was no point in trying to hide it from Ranpo, but he still tried.
“I know you haven’t wrote at all in the past few days, do you think I’m stupid? Actually, don't answer that. We both know I'm the smartest person in the room.,” Ranpo exclaimed, hopping off the counter and gently pushing Edgar away from the sink. “You should go and try to. I need you to get back to work so I can have something to do that isn’t absolutely boring!”
“But-,” The writer had tried, but after receiving a glare his objections died in his throat. Ranpo was lazy, but stubborn. There was really no use in arguing with him- even if the taller man could muster up the backbone to do so. Not that he would.
“Nope, shhh-” Ranpo said, continuing to push the taller man out of the kitchen. It was probably a funny scene to witness, given their height difference. Karl simply sluggish followed after Edgar as he, reluctantly, left the kitchen.
Just as he had entered his study, the sound of dishes recklessly clattering together made Edgar want to turn back. He knew Ranpo was more capable than he acted, but he still couldn’t help but worry. He doubted the raven haired man could get hurt doing the dishes… he just didn’t know if the dishes could handle Ranpo’s careless treatment. He might have to buy some stronger ones the next time he went out.
Letting out an audible sigh, Edgar picked Karl up as he made his way to the desk. Ranpo had been right, of course. He hadn’t written in quite some time. He couldn’t even really say he tried. It was like there was an empty pit in his mind that was slowly engulfing everything except the detective in the other room. He had been putting Ranpo first- even more than usual. However, the brown haired man didn’t mind that. Ranpo was worth giving everything else up for.
The leather chair welcomed him, his clothes blocking out the coolness of the material. The desk was a bit of a mess- papers stacked in chaotic, yet organized piles and books thrown all about- but still had a spot clear for Edgar to write. He preferred traditional writing, of course. Pin and paper. The clicking of a keyboard had always stressed him out. Sadly, with the new day and age, not many people agreed with him.
Pulling out a piece of paper and a quill- more troublesome than a pin, he knew, but it was for the aesthetic- Edgar Allan Poe attempted to write.
The empty page simply stared back at him for the next thirty minutes as if mocking the writer.
“Ugh-,” Edgar let his head fall onto the desk, his bangs fully engulfing his vision. There really was no point in fighting if the drain was empty. What was just another day of unmarked paper? He had lost count of how many had come before this anyways.
The weight of something on his shoulder startled Edgar, making him jump and drag a long line of ink down the once untouched paper. The raccoon that had been peacefully sleeping in the writer’s lap jumped under the desk. Spinning around, his dark brown eyes glancing behind him to see who had touched him, Edgar was greeted by a wide grin and a playful laugh.
“You really zoned out there, Ed. I walked right up to you and you didn’t even notice!,” The familiar green eyed man stated, his grin growing as he patted the taller man’s shoulder.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize you were finished with the dishes.,” Edgar replied, putting a hand to his chest to help steady his racing heart. He wondered how long he had spaced out for. It had seemed like only a moment, but time was always a tricky thing.
Coming up behind him, Ranpo rested his head on the writer's shoulder, his eyes glancing at the word free page. That sat in silence for a moment, Edgar too scared to so much as breathe in fear of causing the other man to move. That certainly wasn’t helping his heart at all.
“No luck?,” Ranpo asked, his voice right by Edgar’s ear. He was putting his full weight on the writer’s shoulder, which was proving a bit of a challenge to keep in the same position. He would never tell Ranpo to move, however. He longed for these small touches.
“Well, um- no. Not at all.,” Edgar answered, knowing Ranpo knew the answer to his question already. He wondered why the detective even bothered to ask, but he knew trying to understand the mind of a genius was beyond him. That didn’t mean he would not try.
They fell into another silence as Karl finally made his way back into Edgar’s lap, curling up as if he had never left. The air was a slight bit tense, but the writer couldn’t figure out why. It was just a normal night, after all. Nothing had happened between the two of them that would cause tension- not that he knew of. Yet here they were.
“What’s really going on, Edgar?,” Ranpo eventually asked, voice soft yet stern in a way the other man had rarely ever heard. The use of his entire first name sent a chill down Edgar’s spin. The tense air in the room only grew, threatening to suffocate him. The comfort of his study now felt like a containment cell… and he was the suspect.
“I...I just lack motivation is all-,” The brown haired man had tried to explain, his heartbeat accelerating again. He felt like a rabbit caught in a fox’s trap. Was this what truly being under Ranpo’s calculating gaze was like? He pitied the criminals who had to endure this.
“I’m not stuipid.,” Ranpo interrupted, finally getting off of Edgar’s shoulder but only to stand in front of him. The writer couldn’t bring himself to meet those emerald eyes. He felt like a child being scolded.
“I’ve read enough of your stories to know when I’m in one, Ed.”
It was like Edgar had been hit with a train, his eyes squeezed shut as his body curled in on itself. He had really been stupid, hadn’t he? His brain went through every second of the last week, trying to catch where he had messed up. When Ranpo had found out. He had spent so much time making it perfect. What went wrong?
The silence that followed was almost deafening, his shoulders shook uncontrollably as Karl fled from his lap. He wanted to disappear. Run as far away from this moment as he could… but that would mean they would have to- he would have to go back.
“I’m dead, aren't I?,” Ranpo asked, after what seemed like an eternity. Again, it wasn’t really a question. It was already too late. Edgar Allan Poe had messed everything up again.
Edgar couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped his dry throat. Of course this would happen. Even if this was all just fiction, Ranpo was always seven steps ahead of him. “Yes.” His voice was weak, barely even a whisper as he forced himself to respond. “I.. I should have been there, Ranpo.”
‘It should have been me.’ had died in his throat, but he doubted he had to say that for the other man to understand. Ranpo always understood.
“Whatever happened, we both know you can’t stay here.,” the raven haired man said as he took a step closer, his hand gently finding Edgars jaw and forcing him to look back up. The tense air shifted as their gazes met and something softer took its place as Edgar leaned into Ranpo’s touch. His eyes struggled not to flutter closed and never leave that moment.
“No one misses me.,” Edgar replied, giving in to the urge to close his eyes. His hands came up to move Ranpo’s hand to his face, as if the detective would disappear at any second. “The book is in a safe place- you’re safe, Ranpo.”
“Come on, Ed! I know you’re not that much of an idiot!.,” Ranpo exclaimed, grabbing both sides of the writer’s face and keeping it level with his own. Edgar would have given up anything in the world to stay just like that. Savor the moment, even for just a bit longer. But he rarely was given what he wanted.
“I am- I will be, If it means I can stay with you for just a second longer.,” The brown eyed man replied, for once keeping eye contact with the detective in front of him. A smart man would know the body in front of his was nothing more than an advanced figment of his extended imagination. Would accept this wasn’t the real thing and move on. But Edgar didn’t want to be a smart man anymore.
“Eddie,” Ranpo started, his voice so soft and gentle it seemed he was scared he’d break the writer if he wasn’t careful. He brought Edgar’s face to his, so close their noses touched. Edgar gripped the other man's hands tighter. “I’m gone. You need to go.”
The bitter taste of tears hit Edgar’s lips and he squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to accept the fact he would never see Ranpo again. Would it really be so bad for him to stay? He was an outcast- a mere ant in the waves of people. What was the point if Ranpo wasn’t there? What would he do with himself? A quick flick to his forehead pulled him out of his thoughts, his eyes flying back open to stare at the detective.
“Obviously it’s going to be hard without me, but who's going to help the Armed Detective Agency now that I’m gone! Those fools are a mess.,” Ranpo explained, using his thumb to wipe away Edgar’s tears. He was right, as always. When Edgar locked himself away they were, indeed, a mess. Ranpo’s death may have even hit them harder than it did him.
“You want me to join the agency, Ranpo?,” Edgar asked, shoulders curling in on themselves a bit more. Even now, he’d do anything that Ranpo wanted of him. The world around him started to blur, causing panic to rush through Edgar’s veins as he latched onto Ranpo’s coat. He knew he didn’t have much time… He just wanted more time.
“I want you to live, Eddie.,” The detective replied, pulling back Edgar’s bangs and giving him a kiss on the forehead. His lips lingered there for just a moment too long, perhaps he didn’t want to say goodbye either, before pulling back with a grin. “Besides, the world is going to need it’s second best detective.”
The world lost it’s form, making Edgar dizzy and disoriented- but he didn’t take his eyes off Ranpo, not until his feet hit the hard floor of his living room. The book sat in front of him, open with a slight layer of dust on it. The room was cold, even with the amount of clothing he had on. It was dark and he was tired. Edgar just wanted to curl back into the warmth of the book. He didn’t want to move on, but he would.
‘I want you to live.’
He would.