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It was the anxious ticks of the other that made him fall and truthfully, perhaps it is not the best times of Edogawa Ranpo because—because, who even falls with a nervous wreck? Apparently, the greatest detective of his time will be the one who falls for a nervous wreck and the thing that scares him the most (and perhaps amuses him too) is that—he does not honestly mind that much.
If five years ago, you would have told this detective that he will fall for a guy that does not know what to do, someone that is petty and vengeful—Edogawa Ranpo would look at you in a most peculiar way and perhaps, maybe laugh and proceed to never talk to you ever again.
Though it is the truth, nothing but the whole truth—he would give himself to this author and (though a bit shameful to admit) he must’ve lost to this author at one point.
A detective who has noticed the clues leading to his demise a bit too late, now isn’t there a story that is exactly like that? It’s on the tip of Ranpo’s tongue—a detective who fell for the enemy whilst making all the wrong deductions, a book that he has read when he was young. He cannot help but chuckle as he recalls this particular novel; would it not be that he and the detective of that novel one and the same? He has made all the wrong deductions about this growing feeling for this author and now he has paid the price. Perhaps, he would spend all eternity falling for this (not quite young) nervous author.
Edogawa Ranpo would admit now—he knows a long time ago that he? He is destined for things with his sharp mind and equally sharp wit, he has been raised on mysteries and the rule to always be curious, he long knows to question everything and anything, to find holes in statements, to know who lies and does not—he knows to do this and thankfully come with age, all of his abilities as a detective has been honed to perfection.
Now—if this is the case—why can’t Ranpo think when he is around Poe? It is like the years of thinking, the years of questioning and his fine ability as disappeared into the wind if it is the author we are talking about. There is something inexplicable about this phenomenon; how can years of knowing and deducing just suddenly vanish into thin air just because Ranpo is around this author? This makes no sense and perhaps breaks everything Ranpo has known.
Just because he is in love, so pathetically in love, his mind supplies, this does not mean his mind should not work on defeating his adversaries, this does not mean he should just not use his mind when talking to this detective. Before this—before this, he could’ve boasted being able to talk to people about things normal for him while he was working on a particularly tough case, but now he is no longer sure if he could do that if he knows this author is around.
This is pathetic Ranpo, and you know it.
“Hello?”
Speak of the fucking devil. Ranpo looks up and sees a familiar face peeking from the door and he looks as ancious as ever, as if he does not want to be there. There is no one in the agency today, only Ranpo. Fukuzawa is out doing god knows what, Akiko is out sick, Kunikida and Dazai might be in a case, Atsushi is out with the intention of picking up Kyouka from school, the siblings are on a day off as well as the clerks and Kenji was off visiting his parents. In other words, in this building at this very time, they are alone in this tiny and small world. Of course, it would be unwell for the both of them if one of their enemies decide to attack as both of their abilities are not for the offense, and if Ranpo were not close to his thirties he would’ve perhaps acted like a love-struck high school teen (which, he total is not no matter how many times Akiko tries to insinuate).
“Ah, Poe!” Ranpo grins and he motions for Poe to come forward. He might be a bit giddy but the last he saw of this author was only last month and it lasted for far too little. “I did not know you we had a meeting today?”
“Oh! We do not.” Poe flushes red and Ranpo chalks it up to him being his normal flustered and nervous self. It seems that even though this author is petty and vengeful, he would not harm a fly willingly (unless that fly destroyed his honor or something). “I just wanted to see you.” Poe smiles in a rather dopey way before he once more turns into a color even redder than before. He drops a small stack of papers he was holding earlier and continues. “—and I meant give you this manuscript that I just finished last night!”
Ranpo coughs, trying his best to not flush red from what the other has said. He must keep his composure as he knows that this Poe fellow has few friends and thus he probably meant it in a platonic manner. “That was fast.” He says, legitimately impressed. “Was it not only last month you gave me a manuscript to read over?”
“Is the term ‘read over’ when you’ve solved the mystery in under ten minutes?” Poe mutters darkly which makes Ranpo laugh. “Anyways, er—this is different.” Poe fiddles with his thumbs. “See, that’s a manuscript I’m planning to get published? Worked on that all day and night, barely slept as it is.” The tall author admits and suddenly Ranpo sees the eye bags in the other’s eyes. “I just wanted to get a second opinion before I give it to a new publisher.”
“Oh.” Ranpo remembers that Poe is once again trying to get back into publishing and he feels genuinely touched that the other would think to have him look over his work. He takes the manuscript in his fingers as Poe watches over him eagerly. “This better be not an easy mystery.” He half-jokes as he flips through the manuscript.
“It’s—it’s not an easy one! I assure you.” Poe huffs before stopping to think. He hesitates before admitting, “All right, maybe it’s an easy one. It’s not really up to par to the ones I’m giving you, I have to make it easier for my readers after all.”
“Ah, that’s true.” Ranpo nods in agreement. He would be lying if he thought simple mystery buffs would be able to solve the mysteries in where Poe really gives it his all. He looks up at Poe, “If your book becomes popular, will you promise to give me a signature?”
Poe blinks at him slowly, disbelieving what the great detective has uttered, before laughing. “If it gets popular I’ll give you anything Mr. Ranpo, that’s a promise.” Poe then freezes for a bit, as if regretting when he realized what he had said. Once again blood rushes into his face, making him turn into a quite fetching shade of red that Ranpo could probably stare at for all of eternity. Perhaps, Poe was turning red as he had said and uttered a covenant—a promise that he would probably have to fulfill. Even if the other’s face was covered by (soft-looking) hair, he could still see pale skin and high cheekbones.
Ranpo could not also quite also help but turn red, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. He could only fantasize about things that someone should really not fantasize about a friend. He coughs as hard as he can and tries to think about anything so he can once more maintain his composure. (oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. don’t think about what you can do with the promise—holy fuck don’t even think about taking advantage of that promise?)
Poe coughs, face still mortified at what he had said. “Er, um—I suppose I should go? I think my publisher, would be angry if I am late for his meeting.”
“Uh—yes. I suppose.” Ranpo absent-mindedly says, his face a bit red and not quite remembering the fact that Poe’s publisher was millions of miles away as he would probably pick an English publisher for his English work and not a Japanese one (and when he remembers this probability and groans at the incapability of his mind to work properly when he is around the dear author). “Have a safe trip then.”
Poe nervously smiles at him when he leaves and Ranpo could only shake, still not quite over at what the other had said.
Now, it is later on that he also realizes that Poe is careful with his words. He does not just speak without thinking and he rarely makes mistakes. Especially if it is when he is talking to another person he thinks highly of.
Now this is a conundrum, something to be thought over. Does this possibly mean that Edgar Allan Poe might actually accept anything that this detective would say?
He thumbs over the manuscript whilst looking at his collection of books written by Edgar Allan Poe. He appreciated the series that this author penned and it probably stemmed from the fact that Edogawa Ranpo had a previous showdown with this author once upon a time (and this author also attracted the attention of this detective and that detective impulsively bought all of that author’s works).
He flips through the pages of the manuscript given to him. He reads the part in where the main characters—the detective and the villain (it seemed Poe was going for an inverted detective story and kudos to him!). He feels a sense of familiarity and he starts at the beginning once more, fully intending to read the whole thing in one sitting and perhaps solve how this detective catches the culprit even before he gets to the climax.
He finishes the book, his face incredibly red as he realizes why he felt a sense of familiarity.
“Oh.” He simply says as he finishes the manuscript.
( C. Auguste Dupin was this cocky private detective all the cops warned you about.
He wore glasses, always a brown cape and a brown cap, citing those choices as his trademark. He had an affinity for sickly sweet soda and marbles and of course, like all geniuses, he was arrogant. He was not young, oh goodness no, he could never be young with how experienced he was in solving mysteries. Though there was a childish quality to him that somehow also gave him dominance. It was as if looking at someone who knew all of your secrets the moment he saw you, like your eyes was the window of your soul and one look from his warm brown eyes would tell him everything he needs to know. He was tired though—a genius of his caliber could no longer be satisfied with the simple mysteries of everyday cases which greatly troubles his female assistant.
However, the perpetuator of this murder is a different story.
G was brilliant, you could not deny that. He always wore a long coat and often was with his pet cockatiels named Mary. He looked dashing, and aside from the fact that he had long bangs, he looked indeed like a future heir to a company. However perhaps it was because of his pride that he was ruthless, uncaring, never paying attention to anyone other than his goals. He did not like to look at other people nor even talk to them. There is no way he could have committed murder, but alas, he did. )
(“I’ve always wanted you to figure out it was me.” G admitted as he stood in front of Dupin. “I’ve had my hunch that you will. Truthfully, I do not know how I would’ve felt if it wasn’t you.”
“How awfully romantic of you,” Dupin deadpans as he twirls around his handcuffs, ready to make a citizen’s arrest. This detective has hoped that his hunches and deductions were wrong and it was the first time he had hoped that. However, life was not easy like that and Dupin is glad he had sent his assistant to a wild goose chase. If she were here, she would’ve already looked at him in a way that implied something was wrong with his feelings. He has done the unthinkable and has fallen for the murderer.
G laughs and turns around. His face is illuminated by the moonlight and Dupin has half a heart to let him go right there, but he does not. He is stronger than that and after all this is not the first time his tell-tale heart has beaten for another and it certainly would not be the last.
“Before you read me my rights, can I ask only one last favor from you?” G looks at him with such fearful and hopeful eyes that Dupin cannot dare to say no.
The detective adjusts his glasses, one hand still firmly clasping his handcuffs. “I suppose I can fulfill one last request.”
“Kiss me.”)
The manuscript ends like that, without any continuation at all.
He texts Akiko that night, after reading the whole book in one sitting. His hands are shaking as he types on his phone. The manuscript is beside him, and his book lamp has long been turned off leaving the only illumination he has his phone.
[TO: DOC WATSON]
[URGENT. REPLY ASAP]
WHAT DOES IT MEAN WHEN SOME1 WRITES A WHOLE BOOK ABOUT U FALLING IN LOVE W/ THEM
[FROM: DOC WATSON]
[RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP]
it’s like 11 pm ranpo. didn’t you think I was asleep.
[TO: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
BUT WERE YOU?
[FROM: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
well, no because of my girlf but
you know what fine.
you have to be specific ranpo.
[TO: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
HOW COULD I NOT HAVE BEEN SPECIFIC.
[FROM: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
oh is this who i think it is.
because if yes, then
it means they have a crush on you.
common sense.
[TO: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
um, no its not lmao dont wrry abt it.
but wow thatS SOMETHIN rlly big.
sorry that i dont have common sense
im not replyin 2 this convo anymore
IF U TRY N ASK. IM BLOCKIN U.
[FROM: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
is this about poe?
[FROM: DOC WATSON]
[RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: URGENT. REPLY ASAP.]
oh wow
Sorry you cannot reply to this number anymore due to service problems.
he really did block me the ass.
Ranpo, in retrospect, should’ve known that perhaps this author was harboring a small crush on him. For god’s sake who even spends six years planning to defeat a rival and travelled a lot of miles to Japan and staying (practically leaving a life behind) just to meet this so called rival.
Definitely not one that is straight nor only harboring platonic affections.
“Oh god. I think Poe likes me and I know I like him back.” Ranpo suddenly says, looking at Akiko straight in the eye. It is lunch time and Ranpo is eating mashed potatoes and it certainly isn’t the time to talk about things like this.
“You know,” Akiko starts, looking unamused as ever. She has long finished her food and was now staring at her phone, talking to someone (probably her girlfriend). “It was funny, the first few times—when the both of you were ‘trying’ to hide your feelings.” Akiko sighs, “Now that you’re actually admitting it, I can’t help but feel a bit relieved.”
Ranpo chucks mashed potatoes at her and she dodges them with ease. The detective might have to pay a visit to the author later that night or maybe tomorrow—whichever comes first.
The detective stands behind the door, holding the manuscript, ready to confront and brimming with nervousness and at the same time excitement. After all, this deduction of his might just be a coincidence and perhaps it might only just be the well-wishes of Ranpo that he thought Dupin and G were Poe’s highly fictionalized and dramatized version of them.
“Mr. Ranpo! Fancy seeing you here.” Poe opens the door, scaring the hell out of Ranpo. He looks surprised as Karl is lazing around on his shoulder and the detective notices that the author was wearing raccoon pajamas. Poe flushes red as he realizes what he was wearing. “Outside my door no less! Would you like to come in?”
“Don’t mind if I do, it was getting rather cold out there.” Ranpo shivers as he steps inside the apartment of Poe. It was small with two bedrooms, a rather small living room and connected to it was a small kitchen. His apartment was a bit cramped, a lot of books practically covering most of the living room.
“Forgive me for the mess, I didn’t know you were coming! You can take a seat on the couch, if you’d like.” Poe flusters and bustles into the kitchen. “Now, would it be coffee or tea for you?”
“Tea,” Ranpo replies, taking a seat at the only spot on the couch where there was no books covering it. It could’ve easily fitted Poe, a small spot in the corner of the coach to comfortably sit as he read books, and judging from the tea stains near the couch, Ranpo would reckon this was the truth. He settles the manuscript on top of the coffee table and waits for Poe to return.
Poe does return with a tray of what seemed to be a pot of Earl Grey and a mug of coffee. He sets it on the coffee table, never mind that it is covered with books, and pours out a cup for Ranpo and takes the mug of coffee for himself. It was a great surprise when Ranpo found out that this tall author takes his coffee black without any sugar or milk, claiming it was the drink of the gods. The tall author sits on the floor and smiles nervously at the detective.
“May I ask why you’ve come here?” Poe says after he takes a sip of his coffee and Ranpo almost flinches because he could smell the bitterness of the coffee all the way from where he was sitting. Karl was no longer at his shoulder and was probably sleeping in the kitchen or somewhere else. Poe eyes the manuscript on the coffee table warily. “Was it that bad?”
“What was bad—“ Ranpo is confused before he remembers the manuscript. “Oh no! It wasn’t bad; it was a good inverted detective story. Perhaps the best I’ve recently read, I am only here as I’ve noticed something, not that I have any qualms with the manuscript you have written.”
“Oh no.” Poe pales a ghastly white, perhaps he realized what he had written. “Oh no, oh dear—I’m—I’m quite sorry Mr. Ranpo.” He turns a faint pink as he places his mug back on the tray. “I did not—it was never my intention—“
“Ah, so I was right?” Ranpo’s mouth quirks up into a small grin as he likewise returns his cup on the tray. “Dupin and G is us, then?”
“Yes, by the gods yes they were.” Poe says, his tone quite mortified. His hands creeps up to his face and he covers himself with his hands. “I could remove the romantic subplot if you’d like—it was nothing but idle thoughts.” Poe says, his voice muffled by his hands.
“Oh no! I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t ask of you to do that.” Ranpo admits. “You’ve clearly spent so much time structuring these characters and to remove that subplot would be a waste! I liked what you did with Akiko though, but she does not quite have a boyfriend—but a girlfriend.”
“Oh god. If you’ve come to insult me then please do not.” Poe’s voice muffles once more from his face. He then looks up to look at the detective straight in the eye. “That’s just mean of you, Mr. Ranpo.”
“Me? I have not come to insult you! Though, maybe on the fact that you would not think I would not have recognized my trademark anywhere.” Ranpo admits, “I’ve only come to know of the ending. It was rather spiffy that you did not end on a proper one. It was only an open end, did not satisfy me not one bit!”
Poe blinks and looks at him. “It is supposed to be open-ended.” Poe tells him, his voice turning a bit hard. “I do not know if I would like to continue the duels of Dupin and G so I left it at that.”
“Ah, I see. Now another question—“Ranpo’s hands are shaking as he is about to ask the question.”—How much of that was true?”
Poe blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
“As I’ve said—how much of that was true?” Ranpo repeats the question, his hands are now oh-so terribly shaking. “Does G really like Dupin? Rather, does the inspiration of G really likes the inspiration of Dupin? Dupin is quite curious you know, he—he thinks he might feel the same way about G.”
Poe flushes red, his expression is not a happy one. His hands bang on the coffee table, slightly rattling the pot of tea and the cups on it. “Mr. Ranpo I swear to the gods if this is a prank—some sort of pity to me then I apologize but I must ask you to leave right—“
“It’s not a prank nor some sort of pity!” Ranpo protests. He quickly grabs the hands of Poe, making one of the cups on the coffee table rattle a bit (and for a moment Ranpo thinks it’s gonna fall, but it does not). “I—I genuinely am curious about what you think of me.”
Poe turns even redder at the words of Ranpo, and he does not meet Ranpo’s gaze. Ranpo knows of this as the author turns his head to the right, adopting a haughty look. “Now Monsieur Dupin, a gentleman does not tell one the answer right away.” He quotes straight from the book and Ranpo remembers that because Ranpo does not forget easily.
The detective does not miss the redness of the author’s ears and Ranpo grins; he knows fully well in his heart that this means yes, Poe does indeed like him back. It is a light feeling that is filling him up, warm sweetness is flowing in his veins at this very moment and Ranpo feels that he might be actually floating on cloud nine for real. It is an inexplicable feeling of delight, of ecstasy and of euphoria, which is what Ranpo feels. He can name them—but the very act of describing them is hard, perhaps it is the what his mind is telling him—do not overthink and just enjoy this moment, and he does.
“Ah,” Ranpo says, giddy with excitement and with feeling. “So, it is true then? Everything you have written in the book?”
“My tell-tale heart can no longer lie, and it is the truth.” Poe returns to look at him and the detective shivers in delight. “Please do not hate me Mr. Ranpo, I could not—I could not have helped myself.”
“Now you’re just making up excuses.” Ranpo grins brightly at him. “Now, I know we do not know if this book will be published or if it’ll even be a success, I have my hopes and deductions though but—may I perhaps ask for that favor now?”
Poe looks a bit nervous but he still says: “I suppose you could. I did promise.”
“Go out on a date with me?”
Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murder of Marie Claire had become an instantaneous hit, making it a cult classic amongst the hard-boiled detective fans and the people who only read it at the news that the protagonist did not hold any interest for woman and that his female sidekick was happily married to her wife.
It was the first book in a long long series as Poe had ended with G having escaped Dupin as they kissed under the moonlight, leaving the protagonist a bit giddy at the thought of once again capturing this murderer. Rumors has it that the book was dedicated to an ex-lover of the author, but how very wrong they were.
“I suppose Dupin isn’t really a bad guy, huh? A supposed anti-hero.” It is a Sunday evening; Ranpo is wearing his glasses as he reads the manuscript of the next installment of the author’s Dupin series. It has been three months since the first book was published and now it would be another five months before the next one will be.
“You can say that.” Poe watches Ranpo read his book, as he fiddles his fingers. He is quite nervous at what he is going to ask but he makes up his mind. “Hey, can I ask one favor?”
Ranpo puts down the manuscript and glasses down, an eyebrow is raised in curiosity. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”
Poe takes a deep breath, his face is flushed red and he cannot quite believe he will be asking this—much less in the way that he has planned to ask. It was embarrassing and Ranpo will catch on the fact, after all he is Edogawa Ranpo. He shakes his head though, gathers his last bits of courage and—
“Kiss me?”