Chapter Text
𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲;
an oxymoron combining short-lived moments with infinite time, describing 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 or significant, yet 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭
𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞?;
The sun was shining bright over Yokohama that day, casting warm golden rays across the busy streets. People were walking, cars were honking, and the city was alive with noise and movement. But none of that mattered to Edogawa Ranpo.
To Ranpo, the world outside didn't exist. What existed was the sweet, creamy strawberry shortcake sitting on the white ceramic plate in front of him. What existed was the cold glass of milk beside it. And what mattered most of all was the man sitting across the table from him, looking at him with eyes full of such adoration that it made Ranpo’s chest feel warm and fuzzy.
“Here, Ranpo-sama,” Edgar Allan Poe said softly, his voice gentle as a breeze. He pushed another plate towards him—this one filled with colorful macarons, every single flavor available in the shop. “I bought them all. Just in case you wanted to try a different one after the cake.”
Ranpo grinned, his eyes disappearing into happy little crescents behind his glasses. He didn’t even say thank you—he just grabbed a pink macaron with strawberry filling and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing happily, a small bit of cream getting on the corner of his lip.
“Mmm! So good!!!” Ranpo mumbled, his voice muffled. “You always buy me the best stuff, Poe. You’re way better than Kunikida or anyone else.”
Poe’s pale cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, just like the macarons. He rested his chin on his hand, leaning forward slightly, just watching Ranpo eat. To him, this was paradise. This was better than any story he had ever written, better than any plot twist he could ever imagine. Just being with Ranpo, listening to him talk, seeing him smile… it was everything he ever wanted.
Back then, things were perfect.
They were happy. So, so happy it almost seemed fake, like a scene straight out of a fairy tale.
Poe wasn’t obsessed with his manuscripts back then. Well, he was, of course—writing was his life—but it never came first. Ranpo came first. Always. He would drop his pen the moment Ranpo called. He would leave a half-written story on his desk just to go out on dates. He would cancel meetings with publishers if Ranpo said he was bored and wanted company.
“Where do you want to go next?” Poe asked, taking a napkin and gently reaching out to wipe the cream off Ranpo’s lip. His fingers were cold, but his touch was incredibly soft. “The new amusement park opened up, and I heard they have a candy station. Or we can go back to my place, and I can read you the new mystery I wrote just for you. I made sure the detective in the story is as smart as you.”
Ranpo’s eyes lit up like stars the moment he heard “candy” and “story”.
“BOTH!!!” Ranpo declared loudly, puffing out his chest. “We go to the candy shop FIRST, buy ALL the sweets, then we go home and you read to me while I eat!!!”
“Anything you want,” Poe whispered, standing up and offering his hand. “I will give you anything you desire, Ranpo-sama.”
Ranpo took his hand without hesitation. Their fingers interlaced perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that were made specifically to fit together. Poe’s hand was always cool to the touch, but Ranpo’s was warm, and holding them together felt like home. It felt safe.
They walked down the street hand in hand, drawing a few glances from people passing by. But they didn’t care.
Poe was like a personal genie. If Ranpo’s eyes lingered on a lollipop for more than two seconds, it was already in his shopping bag. If Ranpo said his feet hurt even a little bit, Poe would offer to carry him on his back without a second thought. He spoiled Ranpo rotten. He worshipped the ground Ranpo walked on. Ranpo was his world, his muse, his entire universe.
And Ranpo? Ranpo loved every second of it.
He loved being the center of attention. He loved how Poe would listen to every single one of his deductions, no matter how silly or obvious, with absolute awe and wonder. He loved how Poe would defend him against anyone who dared to say he was being childish. He loved how Poe looked at him like he was the only person in the world.
“Ne, Poe,” Ranpo said suddenly as they walked through the park, swinging their joined hands back and forth like little kids. “You know I’m the greatest detective in the world, right?”
“Of course,” Poe answered immediately, smiling softly. “You are the smartest, most amazing person alive, Ranpo-sama.”
“Then I can deduce something right now,” Ranpo said, stopping and turning to look at him. His green eyes were sharp and clear. “I deduce that you love me very, very much.”
Poe stopped walking. His heart skipped a beat, then started beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He squeezed Ranpo’s hand tightly, bringing it up to his chest so Ranpo could feel how hard his heart was pounding.
“You don’t need to be a detective to know that,” Poe whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s true. I love you more than words can say. More than my stories, more than my life. I promise I will always be here for you. I will never let you feel lonely.”
“I love you too, Poe.”
Ranpo said it simply, casually, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. And then he smiled that bright, blinding smile that used to be reserved only for Poe.
“I love you too. So don’t ever leave me, okay?”
“I won’t,” Poe promised, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Ranpo’s forehead. “Forever and always.”
Or so he thought.
Back then, they really believed it. They believed that the sweetness would last forever, that the sun would never set on their happiness. They didn’t know that time is cruel, that people change, and that promises made under the blue sky can easily be broken when the clouds come rolling in.
They were happy.
They were in love.
They were everything to each other.
But little did they know, that perfect memory would soon become just that—a memory. Something they could only look back on with aching hearts, wondering where it all went wrong.