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Poe was like an angel.
Ironic, yes—considering he looked and acted like the opposite of one. If anything, people would say he was the child of the devil. His dull grey eyes was something that cursed him since birth, people shunned him for it, accusing him of a demon sent from hell to bring wrath to his small and disgustingly religious hometown. His tall figure symbolized the devil looming over people’s shoulders; his peculiar taste in outfits signified an urban vampire out for blood; his pasty skin was a tell-tale sign of isolation, rumors spread throughout his town, warning eachother to stay away.
Overall, poor little Poe was the devil, and that meant nobody wanted him.
That thought couldn’t have made Ranpo even more spiteful.
To Ranpo, Poe was an angel.
Which was funny again, considering Poe’s devotion to Ranpo was like a follower and his god. Ranpo wasn’t that blind, he could see it. But Poe couldn’t see that Ranpo wanted him just the same.
Ever since that fateful meeting six years ago, Ranpo just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Poe was in the same position, yes—but for the opposite reason. The younger, however, felt as if his heart would explode out his chest, his palms clammy, butterflies rattling against his ribcage to be let free.
This was love, he told himself—and it stayed true even til now.
Love and sappiness wasn’t his fortè. In fact, he thought it was a waste of time before meeting him. But there was something about him. Something about him made Ranpo want to hold him close, pamper him in the love and affection he deserved, to praise him (shocking, Ranpo Edogawa giving praise to someone other than himself) and to shit on the people who wronged him.
He wanted to take naps with him and wake up to his sleeping face, to greet him with a smirk and a kiss while the other hid his face in embarrassment—still looking at him with the same love.
He wanted to go out together, on dates—not as friends—to cafès, to parks, to attractions that both he and Poe never had the luxury to go to beforehand.
He wanted to sit on the couch with him, to brace in eachother’s arms in a comfortable silence, whether it be watching a movie together or doing their respective hobbies: Poe reading or writing with Ranpo gaming on his Nintendo. Karl would be there too, and they’d be like a family of three.
He knew for a fact the Guild knew of Poe’s infactuation with Ranpo. He wasn’t exactly secretive about it. It didn’t matter if he said it was for rivalry, they could still sense the hint of endearment as he spoke so passionately. Especially when he did so much for him, it was a dead giveaway.
Ranpo snorted, ‘ rivals’ my ass.
In conclusion, Poe would do anything for Ranpo.
But Ranpo would do everything for Poe.
“Ranpo?”
Oh. He forgot where he was for a second. He must’ve zoned out as Poe went to the other room to fetch something, leaving Ranpo to thoughts on the couch.
“Hey, took you long enough!” He turned enthusiastically as if he did not just have the most gayest inner turmoil over the very man he was talking to. “Seriously, I’m bored . What the hell took you so long?”
He watched as Poe flushed. On further examination, he was holding something behind his back sheepishly, his stance more awkward than usual.
The older walked closer, “I almost forgot to give this to you. I felt if I waited any longer, my confidence to do so later would die out, so,” he trailed off.
Slowly, he moved the gift in front of him.
It was a box of pastries, lid opened so Ranpo could take in all of it’s sweet glory.
All of which, were Ranpo’s favorite flavors.
“These,” Ranpo paused, hesitation was also out of character for him, “are from the new bakery down the street.”
“Indeed,” Poe shyly nodded.
“The one with the long line that closes shop early because they sell out.”
Poe nodded again. “I wanted to get you some, you were looking at the shop everytime we passed by. But, you always complained about the line and how popular they get.”
Ranpo’s eyes opened.
“I—I understand if you think this is creepy.” Poe hastily said, pulling the box away quickly with embarrassment, “I’m sorry, I know this is stupid. I hated the crowd so much, but you just looked very enamored by the shop and all, so I couldn’t resist? I went early today and waited for a couple of hours in line—oh dear, I just made it sound worse, didn’t I? I—“
Ranpo leaped up from the couch and tackled Poe in a hug, taking them—and the box—down with them.
“Ranpo—!?”
“Thank you.” There were thousands of words coursing through his mind right now, but that was all he could voice. He wanted to shout how much he loved him, he wanted to kiss his face hidden beneath that jungle of hair, he wanted keep holding him close just like now.
“Thank you.” He repeated, as if it was the only word he knows. But it was laced with love—so much of it.
Even with Poe’s social anxiety, he still managed the courage to endure it for him. For him . For Ranpo.
Oh, how Ranpo loves Poe. He loves him so much.
Ranpo could feel how warm Poe became, and how his heartbeat quickened, earning a chuckle out of the detective.
The detective pushed himself up, but not getting off the floor. Instead, he towered over Poe’s lying figure.
Oh, he was beautiful. He really was an angel. Ranpo wished he could take a picture of the scene below him. Poe’s curly locks splayed out on the carpet below them like a halo, his skin was mixed with red from embarrassment.
Gorgeous. Pretty. Absolutely beautiful.
Ranpo was losing his composure. If the agency saw this, they’d accuse him to be an imposter because seriously —this was not Ranpo Edogawa.
But he couldn’t help it.
He looses himself around Poe.
But this was more than usual.
Oh shit. Suddenly, Ranpo feels bad—really bad, as he’s slowly coming back to his senses. The scene replayed out in his head, he quite literally jumped on him, hugged him intimately—more than what’s usually comfortable for friends, and stared down at him like a creep. As he’s now examining Poe, not in awe, but literally—his expression was unreadable, only tinted from his blush.
One of the only times where Ranpo didn’t know what someone was thinking.
Love makes people stupid , he told himself. He was no exception. He acted out of impulse, tackling Poe out of the blue and hugging him—hell, holding him like this on the damn floor—what the hell was he thinking? He thought about it himself, Poe had anxiety— and Ranpo just pounced on him like a damn animal without warning! He must’ve freaked him out, oh god.
“Poe,” the smile dropped from his face, his green eyes now wide in horror. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” A lie, he did know , he thought, I love you too much, he stressed.
Ranpo ruined it, he ruined any chance he had with him. Did he misread everything? As if that was even possible, but maybe he was? God, is this what doubt was? It felt horrible. Every act of service Poe did, every act of compliancy, was it all just an odd platonic admiration rather than a mutual pining?
For once, Ranpo Edogawa felt like a idiot.
“I’m sorry, I should go.” Dumbass, he was supposed to be the greatest detective out there.
But he was a fool when it came to his own feelings.
But as Ranpo tried to move his hand, Poe snatched his wrist.
“No!” Poe shouted, Ranpo flinched in surprise, apparently the author’s voice scared himself too.
“I mean—no, please ,” Poe’s tone hushed, his grip on Ranpo’s wrist was strong, keeping him in place. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t expect that. You’re always full of surprises, Ranpo.” He chuckled lightly.
Ranpo panned, “are you trying to mock me?”
Poe gawked, “what—? No! Heavens no,” the older tried to lift his body up, but he still had his grip on him. So, he only leaned up the upper half of his body awkwardly.
“I was just surprised,” Poe started, biting his lip, “I never thought—um, you’d hug me like this. Only in my novels, I mean—“
Ranpo’s eyebrows perked up, “you write fanfiction on us?” He had his suspicions on that, actually.
Poe choked, “Could you not phrase it like that!? They’re stories—and my point is,” Poe coughed into his free hand, “I just—it’s nice, I like it,” he admitted with embarrassment, “so don’t worry about it.”
Poe turned so he locked full eye contact with Ranpo, “you can stay.”
His face was bashful, and sorry if Ranpo’s breath hitched when his bangs shifted to the side, revealing a sliver of his gray eyes.
No—lavender. They were lavender.
And they were beautiful.
Ranpo hurriedly dug his face close to the author’s shoulder wordlessly, embracing in the contact with full happiness.
“I love you,” Ranpo couldn’t contain himself anymore.
He heard Poe’s breath hitch.
“I love you too, Ranpo.” Poe murmured shyly back, but it still held the same effect of love—he hesitantly removed his shaky hand from his wrist to his back, pulling him closer.
Ranpo felt blessed, and forgive him for being greedy as he manuevered himself to place a kiss or two—maybe more, along Poe’s face, kissing each freckle with a giggle from the author with each tickle along his skin.
The sound was contagious as Ranpo let out laughs of his own, it was like heaven’s melody to his ears.
He was truly an angel.