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For a guy who wrote mystery stories, Edgar Allan Poe was a mystery himself.
Just when Ranpo thought he was finally on the cusp of understanding him, things fell through. Like, when Ranpo had agreed to help Poe with his stories by finding any plot holes or working out quirks, he didn’t realize that Poe wrote a billion stories a week! His reward of a sweet treat per book and an indefinite chaperone for all outings was worth it, but being transported to five different mystery stories per week was beginning to become repetitive.
One would think that Poe would be grateful for what Ranpo is doing for him, considering he’s taking the time out of his day (and away from real mysteries!) to be transported to his, but every time he helps out Poe and solves the mystery… the weirder and more withdrawn Poe becomes. This past week alone was excessive! With a new story (or two!) every single day! Of course, Poe thanked him and always kept his end of the bargain, but there was something about him that bothered Ranpo. Why did he look so sad? What was going on? Ranpo hadn’t asked or used his special ability to find out—it was really none of his business and he had other things to do, but it just didn’t make sense that Poe asked Ranpo for favors and then acted like a baby about it…
The differences of this past week to this current week were stark. Poe had not come by once! He didn’t even bother to text Ranpo either. Ranpo didn’t text either, but that was mostly because he wasn’t going to give Poe the satisfaction of knowing that he was on his mind… and that his ghosting was maybe hurting his feelings… But also, he was busy! He had a big boy job and everything! The agency depended on him and his super intellect. He couldn’t be wasting his time on mopey Poe. No matter how much it pissed him off, which apparently was obvious.
“Have you considered going to see Poe? And figure out whatever’s going on right now?” Yosano asked as she stopped in front of Ranpo’s desk, her hand on her hip.
“Nope,” Ranpo answered in earnest, “if he wants to be pissy, he can be pissy.”
“What’s he even pissy about?” Dazai asked as he slacked off, spinning around in his desk chair much to Kunikida’s chagrin. “You didn’t give him a little kiss in his book world?”
“He doesn’t go into his book world,” Ranpo corrected, “and why would I kiss him?”
“It’s called a joke,” Dazai said as Kunikida abruptly stopped his chair. He hopped up and walked to Atsushi’s chair and began to spin Atsushi around, much to Atsushi’s dismay. “But people usually kiss the people they like the way you two like each other.” Ranpo rolled his eyes.
“Dazai, knock that off! It’s distracting!” Kunikida yelled over Atsushi’s screams.
“More like knock it off because Atsushi’s going to vomit,” Yosano said, watching from the safety of Ranpo’s desk. “So, what’s wrong? Why hasn’t he been here?”
Ranpo raised a brow. “You noticed?”
Yosano scoffed, almost insulted. “I may not be the world’s greatest detective, but I have eyes. He hasn’t been here.”
“I dunno, he hasn’t come around and he hasn’t texted me or anything. I don’t know what’s wrong,” Ranpo said honestly.
“Well, you better figure out what’s wrong because it’s giving you a sour look on your face,” Yosano commented, poking his cheek, “and for a sweets guy, it’s not very fitting for you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ranpo disregarded, hopping up from his seat, “well, if you guys need your resident genius, know that I’m free until Poe can get his act together!”
“Good to know!” Junichiro exclaimed from the other side of the room.
Atsushi's panicked voice filled the room with, “Dazai, I’m seriously going to throw up, stop spinning me, please—!”
— — —
Week two came and went without a sign of Poe and Ranpo was fed up.
If he thought he was going to ghost the Edogawa Ranpo , then that clown had another thing coming!
Making his way to Poe’s apartment (and managing to do it with only minimal help from the agency!) he didn’t bother to knock or tell Poe he was there. He easily figured out where he kept the key (obviously the door—wow, we get it, Poe’s tall… dick.) and let himself in. Immediately, he saw that the apartment was in chaos. A sink with overflowing dishes, blinds pulled down, his living room in disarray…
Looking around, he could tell Poe wasn’t home at the moment. So, he did what he did best, which wasn’t snooping—no! He’s a detective. It’s called looking for clues—duh.
In his snooping endeavors, he stumbled upon Poe’s room, which looked worse for wear. His hamper was overflowing with clothes, his bed unkempt, and stuff all over his vanity. Though, the corner that had all of Karl’s things was tidy. At least he was taking care of his little guy!
There wasn’t really anything in Poe’s room that intrigued him. Though the idea of going through Poe’s clothes to see what expensive clothes he had did interest him, he needed to not get distracted. He walked out of Poe’s room and into another room, of which was Poe’s office.
Poe’s office was a mess. There was paper strewn all about the room; his stories mixed and matched between themselves, creating new and arguably incomprehensible stories between themselves. His desk, or what Ranpo was mentally referring to as Ground Zero was worse for wear. It was buried under piles of pages and crumbled paper. There were broken pens and pencils scattered among the top. Looking through the mess, Ranpo recognized many of the pages, realizing they were the stories that Poe had shown him previously. Except, instead of their once pristine, clean sheets, they were now littered with annotations and crossouts from Poe, whose handwriting was so distinct Ranpo could pick it out of a lineup of hundreds of handwritings with ease. The notes on the pages were all horrible, awful, and degrading. Most of them just wrote, “stupid” or “bad” or even “what was I even thinking?!” followed by crosses or strikeouts. Some even said “he figured this out in minutes.” There was nothing constructive in these papers, just insulting language aimed only for himself. The stories Ranpo didn’t recognize had notes on them as well, sections completely scribbled out and unreadable, making it hard for Ranpo to discern if what Poe was saying had any merit.
As he looked through the papers, his eyes landed on a purple felt binded notebook. He picked it up, opened it, and realized that it was Poe’s personal journal. It’s first entry was from a little over a month ago and his early entries talked a lot about what he did that day, a little bit about Ranpo, and surprisingly had some poetry that Ranpo found enjoyable. He skipped ahead, however, disallowing himself to be distracted by Poe’s work to the more current entries.
When he got to the past few weeks, he noticed a decline. Poe’s writing became short, language negative, and tone helpless. What stood out was something he said exactly a week ago;
What is even the point? I ask myself this question repeatedly. Everything I write is predictable garbage, of which Ranpo is able to solve within mere minutes! Had I not bear this ever consuming compulsion to write my every waking thought, I would’ve given up on the endeavor. Unfortunately, this useless ability of mine makes it so every thought is a story with no off switch, my mind perpetually in motion. Every thought is so loud and screams to be heard, to become physical, at the expense of myself. The pain I undergo to try to write anything of worth while I myself am worthless… I should cut my tongue from my mouth and my hands from my body so as to no longer taint any poor passerby with the vile my brain produces, to ensure they don’t have to endure the torment this broken mind incurs. Dear Ranpo should’ve never wasted his time or talent with a waste of space such as myself. I shall cut contact with him post haste and save him from witnessing the decay of my mind and spirit as well as ensure that this very decay need not infect him as well.
Ranpo was speechless. How long had Poe been struggling like this? Ranpo was a great detective, but dealing with people’s feelings wasn't his strong suit. He likes when people are to the point and say what they mean. He continued on with the other entries, of which the gradual decline of Poe’s mental state was obvious. What worried him, however, was that the latest entry wasn’t from today. It was from a few days ago. Ranpo felt his stomach sink… what if he went somewhere and wasn’t going to come back, purposefully? Who would find him? Should Ranpo call this into the agency? There was no way he’d be able to navigate to where he thought Poe would’ve gone off to.
“Ranpo?”
Ranpo turned his head so quickly to the door of the office that he could’ve sworn he risked whiplash. Poe stood before him, disheveled and tired, but he was at least alive. Karl was on his shoulder, jumping off and scurrying away at Ranpo’s sudden movement.
“Poe!” Ranpo exclaimed, relief flooding his system. He threw the notebook back onto the desk and rushed to Poe, embracing him. “You know, I came here to be mad at you for leaving me in the dust, but I’m just glad that you’re okay!”
Poe awkwardly hugged Ranpo back. He wasn’t like himself at all! The Poe Ranpo knows and loves would’ve been so giddy for a hug from Ranpo. He looked up at Poe, whose expression was indifferent… actually, to Ranpo’s surprise, he looked irritated.
“So… you came here to snoop?” He asked as he took Ranpo’s arms off of him and walked to his desk, picking up his journal. He looked at it like he hated it.
“Well, yeah,” Ranpo said shamelessly, “we talk all the time and then you stopped talking to me.”
“ I talk to you all the time,” Poe responded, turning his attention to Ranpo. “You respond.”
“That’s talking,” Ranpo said, a bit confused by what the point was.
“No, that’s dealing with,” Poe stated, “so I’m over it. You’re upset I didn’t text or contact you, but you could’ve reached out.”
He’s deflecting , Ranpo thought. Obviously, he was trying to push Ranpo away. “I’m here now,” Ranpo said, raising his chin to try to look taller. “So lay it on me. What’s wrong? What happened here? Your stories—they’re a mess! And they’re—”
“They’re garbage.” Poe’s words left a bitter taste in the room. His hands were clenched into fists. “All my stories… they’re… it’s a joke .” His words were heavy. “I don’t know why I ever bothered.”
“You’re just going through a bout of writer’s block right now,” Ranpo tried to reason, “there’s no reason to say that your writing is garbage! I actually really like your writing, Poe.”
“Really?!” Poe asked, but he sounded angry. Like, really angry. “How could you possibly like something so below you?!” He knocked the stacks of people off his desk in anger. “I bet you liked what you just read, right? My dirty little secrets? How I’m an idiot, who could never keep up with you?! Face it, you don’t care about me. You put up with me, my trash, for your benefit. That’s why you use me all the time, right? Have me trap people like Chuuya Nakahara in my thinly veiled plots. I’m a convenience. I’m not the talent I once thought I was.”
Ranpo frowned, feeling angry at what Poe was saying. Even though everything in him was screaming at him that he was being pushed away, it didn’t matter Poe was getting what he wanted.
“Maybe you are an idiot!” Ranpo yelled, “I don’t use you or your ability! You’re the one who put me on this stupid pedestal! I came here to check on you because I care!”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t!” Poe yelled back, only his right eye visible to Ranpo. Ranpo grit his teeth. This fucking guy—!
“Fuck you then!” Ranpo exclaimed, “I’m fucking outta here! Let me know when you grow up!”
He stomped out of Poe’s office, irritated beyond all belief. How could he say that?! To even think all that?! It’s like— ugh , sigh . Despite knowing better, Ranpo fell victim to being pushed away by someone who needs him now more than ever. Despite being the shorter person, he decided to be the bigger person. He turned on his heels and went back to Poe’s office, letting out a breath as he reached the door frame.
“Listen, Poe—”
He interrupted himself, eyes on Poe who sat on the floor and was attempting to clean up his mess. He had his hand over his mouth, keeping himself from crying loudly and drawing Ranpo back to him, but he hadn’t counted on Ranpo coming back all on his own. When his eyes met Ranpo’s, he moved his hand from his mouth. Ranpo felt his heart break. He looked so sad.
“Why?” Poe asked, voice on the cusp of sobs, “why am I such a loser? ”
It was like a dam broke and everything came pouring out at once. He cried, bringing his hands to his face to cover it so Ranpo couldn’t see him cry. Ranpo rushed over, literally sliding over on his knees once he got close enough, and embraced Poe again. This time, however, he wouldn’t let Poe take him off. He was going to stay here and help him!
“You’re not a loser,” Ranpo tried to reason, but Poe was sobbing loudly now, his breathing erratically and uneven—haggard, actually. His whole body shook with his sobs. “Poe,” Ranpo said louder, “you’re not a loser. Not at all.”
“I’m a fucking loser, I am,” Poe cried as Ranpo took his hands from his face and wiped his tears himself. “Nothing I do is ever good enough! Why do I even try?” He grabbed a bunch of pages, crumbling them in his fists, “My mysteries are predictable—mere child’s play! My other works? They’re pretentious garbage! Everything I’ve written… I only write because it’s all so loud . My ability… it needs a vessel! Ideas come into my head and they don’t go away—they’re always lingering! I have to stop what I’m doing to give it a place to live or else they become so loud it’s unbearable. For hours at a time! I… I never have a moment of quiet . The line between fiction and reality becomes more obscure every day, Ranpo. I’m losing sight of what’s real and what’s a figment of my imagination!”
Ranpo could see on Poe’s face that he was suffering. Why hadn’t he done something sooner when he noticed? Could he have helped him? Did that even matter? He should’ve tried .
“It’s all for nothing because everything I write belongs in the garbage—to be discarded and forgotten. And so should I. You shouldn’t waste your time with me.” He took Ranpo’s hands off his face. He held them tightly, yet fondly. His lips in a tight frown despite the quivering. “You know how I feel about you. The feelings I harbor… It’s best to cut your losses now. Before I manage to suck you into a life of lackluster and mediocrity.”
Ranpo’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quiet. He was never really good at deciphering people’s feelings. He just assumed liked him for his greatness. Was there something he missed? “Feelings?”
Poe looked down at Ranpo in momentarily disbelief before a laugh of disbelief escaped. “I can’t believe that I managed to fumble hints towards the world’s greatest detective,” he said, “God, I’m hopeless.”
“No, Poe, come on,” Ranpo said. Looking back, yeah, it made sense. He never thought too much about it, all things considered. Ranpo is a member of the ADA, Poe of the Guild. As much as he enjoyed their partnership, he always considered it temporary. He thought didn’t know when Poe would return to the United States. Though, that was more of an excuse than anything. Something he told himself over and over again to make sure he didn’t get too attached to Poe. That he was going to leave… but what good was that idea, considering the events of today? Poe left, albeit not to America, and Ranpo chased after him anyway. Has he been kidding himself? “Let’s get you up and sit somewhere that isn’t the floor.” Ranpo stood up, pulling on Poe’s arms to bring him up as well.
Poe felt heavier than usual and it was probably because he didn’t want to get up, but Ranpo wasn’t going to let him wallow on the floor of his office forever. No, he was going to get his Poe back.
Escorting Poe out of the office and to his couch, he sat Poe down and meandered to Poe’s kitchen. Luckily, there was one clean glass left in the cabinet. As much as he cared for Poe, he cared very little to do any sort of dish ever . He filled it with water and walked back to Poe, placing the glass down on the coffee table.
“Alright, listen up Poe,” Ranpo began, sitting himself down right next to Poe. He grabbed both of Poe’s hands and looked him in the eyes (or rather, where his eyes were… he couldn’t really see his eyes since his bangs were covering them). “You’re just going through a bad rut right now. Writer’s block and the works. You’re going to come out on the other side of this if you don’t give up!” Poe’s hands twitched in Ranpo’s grip, but he didn’t let go. “How loud are the stories right now?”
“They’re… they’re not very loud right now,” Poe responded, “they… I lied before… when I said it’s never quiet. They’re quiet sometimes...”
“They’re quiet when you’re with me, aren’t they?”
Poe nodded.
“So why’d you ghost me?” Ranpo asked, “if I make everything quieter, surely you’d want to keep me around?”
“All the stories I was giving you… they were bad and it just felt like everything I did was disappointing. Every story I gave you was the same story… bad . I was, still am, embarrassed to give them to you. I just hoped that one would’ve stumped you, that I would prove myself to you regardless of the slump… but all I did was waste your time… It feels like my intellectual decay is a burden on others. I removed myself from you, from… everyone.” He took in a deep breath and then sighed. “It also doesn’t help that I thought you knew about how I felt about you. I figured you hadn’t said anything to be kind, to spare me. I thought I was doing you and the world a favor by shutting myself away.”
“You only made me pissy and worried,” Ranpo replied honestly, “I don’t really pay attention to people’s feelings for me, other than knowing everyone is in awe of my super genius. You should’ve just told me how you felt. That way you didn’t think I knew.”
“Is it really that ridiculous to believe the greatest detective ever could see I had feelings for him?” Poe asked, tone absurd.
“Well, you’re a detective too,” Ranpo said, “and I don’t see you noticing my feelings.”
Poe looked taken aback. “I just assumed…” he grumbled.
“Now isn’t really the time for confessions,” Ranpo admitted, “now is the time to focus on you and make sure you’re okay, alright?” He got up and turned to walk into the kitchen. “Now, what type of food do you—”
Poe grabbed Ranpo’s forearm as he tried to walk past, stopping Ranpo in his tracks. Ranpo looked over at his shoulder at Poe, who wasn’t looking at him and at the floor instead.
“Could you?” Poe’s voice was soft.
“Could I what?”
“... Confess?” He sounded embarrassed. “I’m… having trouble conceptualizing it. I need to hear you say it.”
Ranpo turned to face Poe fully and then kneeled down to meet his gaze. “Edgar,” Ranpo began, his voice fond. He brought his face close to Poe’s. “I also have feelings for you.”
Unexpectedly, Poe seemingly snapped forward and kissed Ranpo. It took him by complete surprise, and Poe was surprised as well. He pulled himself back and hopped to his feet quickly, leaving Ranpo kneeling in shock.
“That was—that was wildly inappropriate, I don’t know what came over me!” He exclaimed in a panic as he moved himself away from Ranpo, running his fingers through his hair as an attempt to relieve his nerves. “I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what compelled me to do that!”
Ranpo hopped up and approached Poe, who kept his arms up like he was trying to show he was unarmed. “Oh, what’s the harm? I like you, you like me!” Ranpo said, a bit too excited by Poe’s example of impulse. “Anyway, even if you think your stories are garbage, which they aren’t by the way, but I digress, I still read a shit ton of them and still haven’t received my sweet treat payment so… I think you gotta give me some sugar, Poe!”
Poe looked unsure. “Are you being serious?” He asked.
“One hundred percent. If you wanna do that again, I’m done to do it too.”
Poe put his arms down and Ranpo got closer to him. Poe gulped and Ranpo would’ve laughed at him if this wasn’t something he wanted too. He leaned down and Ranpo went on his toes to meet Poe in the middle. With Ranpo’s hands placed on Poe’s cheeks, holding his face, the two were able to kiss. Poe was gentle, as if he were scared to hurt Ranpo somehow. From the few weeks he was having, it made sense. He needed something soft, gentle, to ground him. While this kiss wasn’t a solution and more so the result of a revelation, Ranpo was willing to bring Poe back to earth.
Poe leaned down further, wrapping his one arm around Ranpo’s shoulder and the other around his waist. His hands rested flat on Ranpo's back, holding him tenderly. Ranpo moved his hands from Poe’s face to over his shoulders, where one hand grabbed Poe’s hair and the other clenched onto his shirt. Poe was still gentle, but Ranpo was struggling to be gentle back. He wanted more from this kiss. There was a hunger in him he didn’t realize he had until this moment. He wanted to be selfish and taste everything Poe had to offer, but now was not the time…
Poe pulled away first, his eyes on Ranpo’s parted lips as he spoke, “Ranpo…”
With a slight pant, Ranpo looked up from Poe’s own lips to his eyes. He licked his lips and swallowed before responding. “It’s Edogawa to you.” Fuck it. He kissed Poe himself this time. What were words when actions were so much more? If Poe thought he was a loser, there was no way Ranpo was going to convince him otherwise with his words, but maybe he could fuck the idea out of him.
Poe kissed him back. The two stumbled forward to Poe’s couch where Poe was laid on his back and Ranpo on top. Ranpo held himself up by placing his hands on both sides of Poe’s head and a knee in between Poe’s legs whereas his other foot was on the ground. He felt Poe run his hands through his hair and knock off his hat.
“You’re not a loser,” Ranpo whispered against Poe’s lips. He pushed himself off of Poe. “And I’ll prove it,” he added, taking off his brown overcoat.
Poe’s eyes were hazy and he swallowed thickly. “O–Okay,” he managed to squeak out. Ranpo smiled, leaning himself back down, and ready to get to work…