Work Text:
"Tch."
A drop of water landed on his nose, and Chuuya clicked his tongue. For a moment, he considered using his ability to get home quickly.
Too much hassle. It was his day off anyway. No use attracting attention.
Taking out the folding umbrella, he opened it, just as more water poured down from the sky, and resumed walking, the Krug Grande Cuvée case tucked neatly and carefully inside his coat.
People were moving around him. Some looking for shelter. Some running faster. Some taking out their umbrellas, all black and navy and dark colours, blended into the dark gray of the sky. Chuuya felt a little out of place, with his orange hair and burgundy umbrella.
Yokohama was quiet today.
He let his guard down a little bit, taking in the precious rare peacefulness, let instinct take over and feet carry him down the familiar way home. Passing the also familiar deserted park-
What the fuck is he doing here!?
Chuuya frantically looked around. Is Dazai here? Is anyone else here? Is he ambushed? Is he going to be shoved into another cursed book?
He wouldn't be fooled again. Not this time. Not by the same trick.
Two minutes passed, slow and torturous.
The detective just sat there, on the wooden bench, under the protection of his transparent umbrella. Alone.
Another two minutes passed.
Chuuya didn't know what made him do what he did, but he slowly took a step forward, and then another, and another, until...
The detective still sat there.
"Hey Mr. Fancy Hat." Ranpo's voice was soft, drowned out by the deafening rain, but Chuuya heard it all the same.
"...Edogawa."
"That sounds so old. Feels like I'm forty already. Just Ranpo!" He whined, just like a child, high pitch with a pout on his face, and Chuuya let out a small laugh.
"Fine, whatever. Ranpo."
Seemingly satisfied, Ranpo continued watching the rain, legs swinging occasionally, disturbed the puddle under his feet, humming a tune that Chuuya couldn't recognised. He vaguely recalled their time in the book, how the detective had run around, laughing and smiling childishly, eyes bright with excitement and uncontained joy, as if they hadn't been surrounded by five hundred dangerous and armed murderers. How his face had lighten up when saw a candy shop, then proceeded to drag Chuuya in there with him and conveniently identified a murderer while choosing lollipops.
"...- still here?"
"Ha?"
"I asked why you were still here. Wouldn't wanna keep that nice Krug Grande Cuvée and your Wagyu beef waiting, right?" How Ranpo knew about his plan for dinner, he wasn't even surprised anymore.
You look lonely.
"I do whatever I want." was what he said.
"Huh."
Chuuya took a look at Ranpo. Despite being protected by the transparent umbrella, the front of his white button up was slightly damp, his white knee highs were completely soaked, the brown coat did little to hide his trembling shoulders. But he didn't seem bothered, instead tilting his head back a little bit more, as if to enjoy the rain easier.
Chuuya subconsciously moved closer, slightly tilted his own umbrella over the detective.
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"Until now, almost an hour."
"What the hell, why?" Is he crazy?
"I knew it was going to rain, so I came here to see if I timed it right. Of course this Great Detective is never wrong!"
"..."
The rain kept falling. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Deafening.
"...You like the rain. Why?" Chuuya dared to ask. Would Ranpo answer? Would he keep silence? Would he leave? Was this a mistake? So many possibilities, and Chuuya wasn't really a positive person. But as Ranpo opened those eyes, those damned clear, innocent, emerald eyes filled with nostalgia and melancholy, he held his breath, and waited.
One minute passed.
"Petrichor."
"...What?"
"Petrichor. That warm and fresh scent when rain falls on dry soil, stems from microscopic streptomycete bacteria in the soil that produce a compound called geosmin. You really need to improve your vocabulary, Fancy Hat-"
"I freaking know what petrichor is-!"
"I simply just like that scent."
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
"Why?"
"...When I was young, whenever it rained, Farther and I would sit outside, under the porch. He always let me sit on his lap, told me all about the cases he had solved, rubbed my arms to keep me warm." Ranpo unconsciously lifted his free hand and started rubbing his arm. "Mother would make tea and zenzai, then we would drink tea and eat zenzai together. They always let me have all the red beans..."
He had such a far away look in his eyes, as if he was a child once again, voice so small it was almost a whisper.
"I can hardly remember their faces now, you know. But somehow I remember that scent, petrichor." Ranpo shrugged. "So I thought: If I breathe deep enough, long enough, maybe I can keep them close in me, somehow."
Chuuya just stared at him, once again amazed by the detective, by his honesty.
By the amount of trust Ranpo put in him, enough to show him his real emotions, a moment of weakness.
They said nothing afterwards. Ranpo still sat there, and Chuuya just stood there, hoping that his umbrella was enough to keep Ranpo warm and dry.
Ten minutes passed. The rain stopped.
Ranpo stood up so sudden that Chuuya almost dropped his wine case. After closing their umbrellas, he turned to the mafioso, a soft smile on his youthful face and in those innocent green eyes, and clutched his sleeve, not unlike the way a child would clutch an adult's pinkie.
"Let's go Fancy Hat! There's a candy shop around here! I want Ramune too!"
"Dammit Ranpo! I'm not your fucking bodygu-"
"That wine and steak has already waited for an hour and a half. What's another 30 minutes?"
Chuuya just smiled helplessly, and let Ranpo drag him away.
He took a deep breath.
Petrichor smelled really nice.