Work Text:
When Ranpo woke up, everything felt grating.
The birds chirping outside his window sounded like nails against a chalkboard. He could hear Fukuzawa cooking breakfast, every clink of metal like a flick directly to the brain.
Okay, so it was going to be one of those days.
Ranpo hated these days. Everything felt like it was too much off the bat, and he hadn’t even moved yet. It really hadn’t even been that long since one of these days, but of course, he wasn’t about to be lucky for the first time.
As he lay in bed, his mind wandered, trying to come up with a way to hide this. He’d only been living with Fukuzawa for around a month, and while he’d absolutely had meltdowns, he did his best to conceal it or go somewhere else. It was never over anything important, but he could feel the tremble in his hands as he gripped his blanket tighter. If he acted like he was sick, maybe he could—no, because Fukuzawa would take him to a doctor. Despite his flaws, the older man was a really good caretaker. It made Ranpo feel a little guilty for being such a difficult person.
Maybe just being difficult would help today. He wouldn’t get up, he’d just stay in bed, act like he was tired. Act like he’d ever felt more awake.
Predictably, there was eventually a knock on his door, and Fukuzawa poked his head in.
”Ranpo, we’ve got a case to investigate today. You’ve got to get up.”
Ranpo grumbled, rolling over. He had to play up his irritation. Fukuzawa just sighed.
”Look, we don’t have time for this. Get up,” he ordered, before closing the door. The younger could feel his heart drop at the words. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint Fukuzawa, but was it a lie to say he felt exhausted? He felt exhausted all the time, and this wasn’t really any different. He remembered another student at the police academy telling him no, he didn’t understand what Ranpo meant when he said he was always tired. That kid had to have been lying, though, Ranpo thought. No way people live their lives without perpetual exhaustion. That’s not fair at all.
The door opened, and Fukuzawa’s voice came again, more forceful this time.
“ Ranpo. Get up.”
He wasn’t going to get out of this.
After a few minutes, he stumbled into the kitchen, dressed. His cape was draped around him, practically engulfing him.
“Ah, there you are. I made some pancakes,” Fukuzawa said, a little less stern than before.
“I’m not hungry,” Ranpo grumbled, climbing into one of the stools and laying his head on the kitchen counter. He could feel the questioning gaze the older man was giving him right now, but he didn’t look up.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. When are we leaving? I don’t wanna be out long.”
Fukuzawa sighed, and Ranpo could tell he was already irritated. “If you’re not going to eat, then we can leave now. Get your shoes on.”
The kid did as he was told, pulling on his shoes and obediently following Fukuzawa out of the apartment and into the city.
Instantly, there were too many noises. The driving of cars on the road beside them, the dogs barking from behind doors of houses, the incessant chatter of people around them — all of it was way too much. Ranpo clutched his hands together, digging his nails into the soft flesh. They made it to the train station before he stopped completely, blood trickling hot down his fingertips.
“I’m not going in there,” he insisted, hiding his hands behind his back.
“You don’t have a choice. This is your job whether you like it or not.” Fukuzawa was obviously agitated, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not doing it. It’s too loud.”
“Too lo—Ranpo, this is ridiculous. Come on. We don’t have time to waste.” With that, the silver-haired man turned around, walking into the station. In a split second decision, Ranpo followed him, much to his own dismay.
Of course, the train station was somehow louder than he’d thought it would be. He clutched onto one of Fukuzawa’s sleeves, making the older turn to look, but ultimately, he didn’t say anything. Through the endless chasms they went, and Ranpo swore they were going in circles until they ended up at a platform, waiting for the train to come. With the lack of movement, there wasn’t anything Ranpo could do to get rid of all the noise, except cover his ears and bite his lip. Fukuzawa noticed, and he tried to say something, but Ranpo didn’t hear him. He saw the older man give up trying to communicate, but he stood a little closer until the train arrived.
They got seats about dead in the middle of the train, people around them on all sides. There was this one couple who were loudly talking and kissing each other, and Ranpo was overwhelmed to no end. They were talking about how they were going to get married, a conversation he could unfortunately hear through covered ears. Maybe if he tried to tune into just one conversation, everything else would get quieter.
It worked for a little while, but it didn’t take long for him to realize the boyfriend was cheating and taking his girlfriend’s money to spend on his side chick. And Ranpo didn’t even have the energy to tell her. That made all the noise come crashing back down again, and the rocking of the train was starting to make him nauseous as he pulled his knees to his chest, tucking his head into them.
Eventually, the train slowed to a halt, and he was able to manage getting up, taking a deep breath as he covered his ears once again to deal with the horror of the station. It only took a few minutes, much less than last time, but it was enough to bring Ranpo to the brink of tears. His relief was endless when they emerged into the sunlight, continuing down the road. He could see the familiar yellow tape surrounding the area they were no doubt assigned to, and he calmed down slightly.
“Oh, Ranpo! There you are!” One of the officers called to him — he was certain he knew who this was, but his name evaded the detective at the moment. It wasn’t important. “We’ve had no luck on this case. What do you think?”
Ranpo winced as the body came into sight. It was a man in a suit, clearly an office worker from what seemed like the bank across the road. Bugs had begun flying around the body, and a lot of it seemed crushed, like it had fallen from somewhere high. Looking to the sky, two buildings were possibilities for where it happened. But he knew the leftmost building was locked entry, and this person certainly didn’t have the credentials for that, so it had to be the right building. Without speaking, he headed into the right building, swinging open the door to the stairwell. He could hear Fukuzawa chase after him, shoes clicking against the concrete steps.
“Ranpo, are you alright?”
“You didn’t care earlier,” Ranpo hissed, his voice coming out a lot more broken than he’d anticipated. “Don’t bother now. I’m busy.” Footsteps began to pound behind the two, conversation cut short by officers who were following to see the conclusion. Uneasy silence filled the space between the two, and Ranpo didn’t bother turning around just to once again see an unreadable expression on his face.
The door at the top of the stairs opened wide with a clang, and Ranpo instantly knew what had happened. Someone had pushed the victim off the roof, presumably someone who he’d trusted. There was only a real scuffle towards the ledge, and there were some pretty clear impressions of the attacker’s shoes. This was absolutely able to be solved without his help. If only everyone wasn’t so stupid, then—
“Did you figure it out, Ranpo?” one of the officers asked, the group of them standing near the door.
“Yeah. It was the secretary who worked with him at the bank. The one across the hall,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Is that all? Can I go now?”
Silence fell over the group before suddenly, one of the officers stepped forward, practically in Ranpo’s face.
“The secretary who worked with him is my brother. Are you calling him a killer?” he spat. Ranpo frowned.
“No, I’m calling him a killer with certainty. Get out of my way.” He attempted to sidestep the officer, but a fist collided with his chest, knocking him to the ground. Instantly, people were yelling as Ranpo felt the air leave his lungs, coughing and sputtering. Fukuzawa was pushing the officer who’d punched him back, and he could hear his attacker screaming about how he was just some stuck-up little freak who didn’t know what he was talking about. He watched the scene unfold — the same guy tried to hit Fukuzawa, and failed, obviously, the crowd devolving into chaos.
Ranpo couldn’t take it. He clambered to his feet, slipping down the stairs and away from everyone. He didn’t make it very far, only going to near the end of the stairs before sitting down and curling into himself, sniffling and fighting tears. It was still hard to catch his breath, and his chest was so unbelievably sore, but at least it was quiet here.
At least for a moment.
A set of footsteps made their way down the stairs, stopping beside him.
“Ranpo,” Fukuzawa said, voice quiet.
“I wanna go home,” the dark-haired boy whispered. He’d never felt this small in his life. The older man offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. They made it to the train station before Ranpo felt tears prick at his eyes again.
“Fukuzawa,” he whined, terrified. “I don’t want to go in.”
“We don’t really have a choice.” He sounded remorseful this time, and Ranpo felt terrible for being so difficult all over again. So he followed the swordsman in, trying his best to follow closely. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes, watching the ground and each way Fukuzawa stepped. It was so noisy, Ranpo thought he’d die right there. A baby screamed, a piercing sound ringing throughout the whole building, and his head shot up, turning around. He couldn’t see where it came from in the sea of people, and as he turned back to follow Fukuzawa again, he found the older man nowhere to be seen.
“Fukuzawa?” he whispered, spinning around. Where had he gone? Had he really left him behind? No, no, maybe it’s an accident. He shouldn’t have been so careless, he shouldn’t—
Ranpo’s hands were shaking as he pushed his glasses up onto his nose. He hadn’t realized he was crying until his hand brushed his cheek and came back wet. Someone bumped into him, throwing him off-center, and he fell into someone on his other side. They sneered, pushing him off them and onto the ground.
Fukuzawa lied, he thought, panic overtaking him. The world really is full of monsters .
He could feel everyone looking at him as he heard another scream, from somewhere closer this time. It sounded strangled, and as he let out a harsh sob, it occurred to him that he was the one screaming. He tried to stop, but it felt like his lungs had a mind of their own now, sputtering out into weak sobs as he desperately tried to catch his breath. Everything was so loud. He was all alone again, stuck in this hell without anyone who cared. He should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve known that Fukuzawa would have left him alone, just like everyone else. His fists collided with his head, over and over and over and—
Someone grabbed his wrists forcefully, calloused hands wrapped around his soft wrists.
“Ranpo,” he heard someone whisper, and as he looked up, he saw Fukuzawa with the first trace of fear he’d ever seen in the older man’s face.
Ranpo practically tackled him, grasping his clothes in the strongest grip he could muster.
“Please–please don’t leave, please, I can’t—Fukuzawa, please, I’m sorry–....” he babbled hysterically, soaking the man’s yukata in tears.
“I’m not leaving,” he said, holding the smaller boy close. “I didn’t realize I’d lost you. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you this much.” Gently, Fukuzawa picked him up, carrying him out of the station. Ranpo heard the noise fade out, only the droning sound of cars passing by audible now. It was like the world had gone quiet while he was in the older man’s arms.
“Are you alright now?” Fukuzawa whispered, kindly petting Ranpo’s hair.
“...better.” His voice came out more of a whimper than anything, but his grip on the yukata didn’t loosen.
“We can take a taxi home, if you’d like. It’s too far to walk the whole way.” It didn’t seem to bother Fukuzawa that Ranpo was still sobbing as he nodded into his shoulder.
The taxi ride wasn’t long, and Ranpo was pretty sure the driver had been paid extra to go a little faster. Fukuzawa held him close the whole time as his cries slowed and his breaths grew long and ragged. The sun was setting by the time the raven-haired boy was being carried up the stairs to the apartment, the door creaking open softly. Carefully, Ranpo was set down on one end of the couch, Fukuzawa sitting down on the other end.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, placing his hand about halfway across the couch, within Ranpo’s reach if he wanted it.
“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” he whispered. “It just hurts to be in places like that. How don’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“ Everything, ” he breathed, sniffling. “How don’t you hear everything they can say?”
“You…hear everything?” Fukuzawa’s eyebrows furrowed.
“All at once.”
“And it hurts?”
Ranpo nodded, pressing the side of his face into the back of the couch. “I’m sorry, I…I know it’s stupid, and I’m just being difficult again….”
“No, nothing like that. If that’s what happens, I want to help. I think I’ve heard of noise-canceling headphones before. Do you think those would help?”
Ranpo stared up at him, dumbfounded. “Do…do you mean it? You’d do that…for me?”
“Of course I would. You’re under my care now. I’ll do what you need to feel better.”
Ranpo could feel the tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. He was sure Fukuzawa could see it, because his eyes filled with worry.
“Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
He sounded so genuine that Ranpo couldn’t hold back the sob building in his chest.
“No, no, it’s…I’m just happy,” he laughed weakly. “I didn’t…most people just think it’s an inconvenience.”
Fukuzawa positioned himself closer to the younger. “It is inconvenient, but if it’s inconvenient to me, I can’t imagine how awful it must be for you.”
Somehow, those words didn’t hurt like Ranpo thought they would. He leaned into Fukuzawa’s shoulder, and got an arm wrapped around him in return.
This was something Ranpo was determined not to lose.