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“Ten minutes,” Akiko says sternly, slurring a bit at the end. Ozaki has one arm around her waist, in a way that’s both flirtatious and clearly for stability—Akiko definitely thinks she’s standing on her own, though. Ozaki meets Ranpo’s amused grin with one of her own while Akiko continues on, oblivious, “Ten. If you’re not back by then, we’re leaving without you, Ranpo.”
Ozaki sighs, shaking her head fondly. She’s upright and as poised as ever despite the shots she took not even an hour ago, and Ranpo envies her tolerance. He’s better than Akiko is, but he’s still swaying, even if it’s not as noticeable.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes as he turns around and decidedly does not bump into the person standing behind him. He flips Akiko off as she cackles, not even bothering to glance behind him, which it only makes her laugh louder. The music gets louder too, drowning out her voice as he makes his way back to where he remembers Edgar being last, before Akiko dragged him off to introduce him to one of her friends (whose name he’s already forgotten). He doesn’t feel too bad, though, because when he left, Edgar was talking to Lovecraft, which means Ranpo will probably be getting a manuscript some time very soon. Those two only talk when they’re both either exhausted or buzzed, and something about their conversations always gives Edgar inspiration. Not as much as Ranpo does, of course, but still. Whatever.
As expected, by the time he makes it back to the kitchen—having only bumped into one wall, despite his swaying—Edgar is still leaning against one of the countertops. Lovecraft is slowly nodding off, and he’s leaning on something too—someone, actually, a blonde Ranpo hasn’t met before, who now seems to be carrying the conversation. Still, Edgar doesn’t look uncomfortable, so Ranpo doesn’t have to bother coming up with something dramatic to shoo the other two off. Instead, he takes his time, stepping around the kitchen island to lean on the same countertop.
For a moment, he doesn’t think Edgar notices, but then he gives a subtle, nearly imperceptible hum as the blonde speaks, and the arm closest to Ranpo moves back to rest of the counter behind them, elbow leaning on the edge. It’s a casual movement, but even tipsy, Edgar is too aware of pretty much everything to move without meaning to. Ranpo takes it as the invitation it is, standing just a bit closer. He considers hopping onto the counter but honestly, with the slight haze in his mind he’s more likely to fall over instead, meaning the potential height isn’t really worth the risk. When Ranpo doesn’t speak up, Edgar glances down at him, more obvious this time. (The first movement was an invitation to interrupt as well, then.)
In lieu of an answer, Ranpo’s mouth feeling heavy as he tries not to yawn (Akiko was probably right to call it a night when she did, he's clearly more tired than he’d thought), he only nods back at the duo standing in front of them, telling him to continue. The blonde still hasn’t noticed their silent gestures, but he’s also talking while adjusting Lovecraft—who at this point is leaning his entire weight against him—so Ranpo can’t really blame him.
Edgar raises his eyebrow in suspicion (Ranpo would be offended if he wasn’t completely aware of how little patience he usually has). He doesn't bother stifling his yawn this time, which makes Edgar grin like he isn't usually one silent moment from falling asleep himself, and finally turns his attention back to Lovecraft and his friend. Friend? He doesn't have enough energy to bother deducing their relationship any further than that, but maybe later.
(Besides, there’s something nice about just standing next to Edgar, in just taking comfort in his presence. But that’s stupid, so Ranpo thinks it’s just the drink talking. Definitely.)
As Edgar goes back to his conversation (it takes the name “John” for it to click to Ranpo that this is the head of the gardening club, who also does lighting for the Guild—Steinbeck, he thinks), Ranpo runs his eyes over Edgar’s profile. He’s less hunched over, more confident, meaning that between that and his heeled boots, he’s significantly taller than he usually is. Which is already tall enough, in Ranpo’s opinion.
Like Ozaki, Edgar is almost annoyingly good at appearing perfectly sober, no matter how much he drinks. It takes a lot more effort for Ranpo to tell how drunk Edgar is than for vice versa (but he won't ever say that, or Edgar will hold it over his head for the rest of their lives).
But from Ranpo's observations, it usually comes down to confidence. Which it does for a lot of people. But it’s obvious in Edgar, who normally walks like there’s a weight on his back he can barely keep up (or maybe that’s just Karl’s fault) or someone is going to jump out of the bushes and attack him. Confidence looks good on him. Which is an objective, normal thing to say. Obviously.
Ranpo sees it a lot more when it's just the two of them, but there’s something interesting about getting to see it outside of Edgar’s apartment. How he interacts with other people, how he stands. He tucks the image away in the back of his mind, where all his other observations about his best friend go, to poke through when there's no one around to read into any of them.
Edgar is resting his elbows on the counter behind him, occasionally clicking the rings adorning his fingers against each other, nodding along to whatever Steinbeck says. There’s a slight part to his fringe that lets Ranpo see a sliver of his eye, relaxed but still crinkling upwards when he laughs, outlined in black in a way that only accentuates just how purple his irises are. Edgar never believes him when Ranpo says they’re nearly lavender, rolling his eyes and telling Ranpo that not everyone can be as interesting as Ranpo is, and while normally Ranpo would agree, he kind of wishes he could show Edgar what they look like right now, just to prove himself right.
On the other hand, Ranpo kind of likes just getting to look. Which means he doesn’t really want Edgar to notice him (“For once,” Akiko says in his mind, and he tells her to shut up), because just like how Ranpo can tell just where Edgar is looking despite his bangs in the way, Edgar always seems to know exactly where Ranpo’s gaze is pointed. As a result, he takes careful effort to not let his eyes drift any further down, simply because he knows he wouldn’t be able to explain if Edgar were to glance at him, one eyebrow raised and his grin crooked in the way it only ever is when he’s messing with Ranpo.
“Is everything alright, Ranpo-kun?” Edgar asked him once, teasing, when he caught Ranpo staring at his silver necklaces (and maybe not just his necklaces). Ranpo doesn’t think Akiko will ever let him forget it.
(Edgar forgot it, though, which is the only reason Ranpo didn’t have to actually explain himself. Thank god.)
Ranpo blinks, trying not to visibly shake his head as he tries to will the thoughts from his mind. For some reason, Ranpo thinks that maybe it’s for the best that Akiko gave him a time limit. Probably because every time Edgar’s lips quirk up, and he laughs, or just smiles, Ranpo gets a little bit closer to doing something he told himself he'd never do. That he isn't supposed to do.
In that moment, Edgar glances to the side and meets Ranpo’s eyes, tilting his head and giving Ranpo an apologetic smile (even though Ranpo already told him it was fine) before turning back at Steinbeck, and… what wasn’t Ranpo supposed to do, again? He can’t quite remember.
It doesn’t actually take that long for Steinbeck and Lovecraft to leave, but it feels like a lot longer to Ranpo, whose limbs are starting to feel a bit like jelly. Edgar turns to face him a moment after, his gaze softening and smile starting to look a lot more fond when he meets whatever expression happens to be on Ranpo’s face.
“Feeling alright, Ranpo?” Edgar asks softly, with just enough concern to be gentle and not teasing, making something churn in Ranpo’s gut.
There’s the other way he can tell how far gone Edgar is—he only ever calls him “Ranpo” when he’s tipsy. Every other time, it’s “Ranpo-kun” without fail. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been friends for years, or that Ranpo keeps teasing him for the formality.
Well, maybe he gets it. Ranpo hasn’t been calling him “Edgar” for that long either.
But because he’s so careful not to, it always rings in his mind whenever Edgar forgets the honorific. Realistically, it sounds no different without the honorific than it does with it, but to Ranpo it always sounds syrupy, honey-like, warm. He’s dizzy now, but he’s not sure whether it’s because of where his mind is going or because he tried to stand up straight after leaning against the counter for the past few minutes.
“Fine,” Ranpo says, a bit too late. He sounds a bit breathless. He hopes Edgar can’t tell. “Heading out. Figured I’d congratulate you again before I left.”
Which isn’t a lie, exactly. Just not the full truth. They are at this party to celebrate the Guild’s most recent performance, after all.
Edgar hums, “Congratulate me, hm?”
“Yeah,” Ranpo shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and convincing a grand total of nobody, “You were fine, I guess.”
He gets a bright laugh, this time, which makes him feel fuzzy all over again, “I seem to recall you saying I was ‘really good,’ earlier, Ranpo. Have you changed your mind now that you’ve had some time to think? I’m hurt.”
“Really good?” Ranpo rolls his eyes,”That doesn’t sound like something I’d say. Maybe you’re thinking of Akiko.”
“Perhaps. Well, thank you for the congratulations, nevertheless,” Edgar says, before he seems to register something else. He sounds a bit disappointed as he continues, “Ah. You’re leaving, you said?”
“Yeah. Ozaki-san’s waiting with Akiko by the front, we’ll see if she’s still awake when I get there. You said you’re not coming back with us, right?”
Edgar sighs, but still shakes his head, “I would, but I still haven’t met Lucy’s… friend? Boyfriend? We’ll see. But thank you.”
“‘Course,” Ranpo says, hopefully in a way that’s not sullen, in a way that’s nonchalant and casual and sounds nothing like “I’d do anything for you,” but given his track record tonight, he’s not that confident one way or the other. Even frowning, Edgar looks beautiful. And that’s probably not a thought he should be having, actually. Even if it’s true.
His best friend tilts his head to the side in question, probably because Ranpo is just standing there, and the look in his eyes is so soft that Ranpo kind of melts. For half a moment he considers just telling Akiko and Ozaki to leave without him, except he still has a hint of self-preservation instinct, and that instinct screams at him to wrap this up quickly, because if he doesn’t, they’ll start talking again and Ranpo will get even closer to that thing he can’t remember he’s not supposed to do.
Fine. It’s not like they won’t see each other again soon. Despite Edgar’s height, it’s not hard to tug him down just enough for Ranpo to card one hand through his hair, using it to hold him in place as Ranpo whispers, “Text me when you get home, kay?” before pressing a quick but soft kiss to Edgar’s lips. At least, it’s supposed to be quick, but Edgar’s hand automatically cups Ranpo’s face, and it’s another warm moment before Ranpo can bring himself pull himself away, meeting Edgar’s eyes with an expression that’s probably just as gentle as Edgar’s own.
At least, until Edgar blinks. And Ranpo blinks. And as cliche as it sounds, it feels like the noise of the party disappears in an instant, fading to the back of Ranpo’s mind as he sees Edgar’s eyes widen, and as the sheer gravity of what he’s done sets it.
(He thinks he remembers what he wasn’t supposed to do, now.)
It’s barely a second before he steps back—and who is he kidding, it’s more like a jump—walking backwards as he lets out a laugh that sounds forced, even to his own ears. He can’t bring himself to look at Edgar, so he gestures back to the door before turning around, and because the universe hates him, the first person he makes eye contact with is no other than Dazai. Who looks delighted.
He doesn’t bother entertaining that conversation—Dazai will track him down, one way or another, and that sounds like a problem for the Ranpo of next week or really any Ranpo that isn’t the Ranpo of right now—and instead he makes his way for the entrance. Akiko and Ozaki are still there, despite the fact that it has definitely been more than ten minutes. It’s been long enough that he’s sobered up, or maybe he just feels sober because of the major shock to his system he’s just had, the feeling of ice-cold water being dumped over his head. He doesn’t even want to know what expression is on his face (or how red it must be—he can’t quite decide if despair or embarrassment is worse), but he can tell it isn’t good when Ozaki just looks at him and then opens the door, letting him step out first. Akiko is half-asleep on her shoulder, but she opens her eyes to half-heartedly glare at Ranpo before closing them again the moment she sits down in the car. He spends the ride looking out the window, avoiding every little thought that could ever pertain to his best friend, because that's the mature and healthy thing for him to do. His former best friend. His best friend?
Clearly, that goes very well.
But it’s fine. Completely, and totally fine. Because Edgar probably won’t remember. He didn’t remember the last time Ranpo accidentally stared at his collarbone—necklace for like ten minutes, so logic follows that he won’t remember this. Because that is how logic works, and Ranpo has never been wrong before.
(Nor has he ever made a habit of lying to himself so blatantly, but here he is.)
So when Edgar inevitably forgets tomorrow, and sends Ranpo a text saying that he got home safe and just forgot to check his phone before he went to sleep (Ranpo will have already checked his location, because Edgar never remembers to send a “made it home” text but was willing to give Ranpo his location, for some reason), and they will go back to acting like they always have. And Ranpo will go back to acting like he isn’t hopelessly in love with his best friend, like he didn’t spend every second of the night panicking, and like he doesn’t remember what kissing the only person he’s ever loved feels like. Like he doesn’t remember Edgar’s hand cupping his cheek, his rings cool against Ranpo’s face, and his thumb just barely pressing underneath Ranpo’s right eye, or the gentle look in Edgar's gaze as he pulled back, before his eyes went wide and he looked like he did something wrong.
And it will be fine.