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As your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the sight of a vibrant, patterned blanket draped over your body. You had no idea how much time had passed since you had dozed off on Ranpo's couch, and you were mildly surprised that he hadn't kicked you out yet, but you could tell from the dim lighting through the windows that it was now late evening.
Sitting up and stretching, you couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion and disorientation. Where was Ranpo? And why had you slept for so long without water being splashed on your face?
As if on cue, you heard a faint sound coming from the direction of the kitchen. It was a voice, and as you strained to listen, you realised with a jolt that it was, in fact, Ranpo's.
With a sense of curiosity, you tiptoed across the room and peered into the kitchen. The kitchen was a study in simplicity, with clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic that left no room for clutter or excess. The countertops were sleek and unadorned, made of a smooth, polished material that reflected the light from the overhead fixtures. There were no bulky appliances or ornate decorations to be found, just the bare essentials arranged with precision and care. A slim, stainless steel fridge hummed quietly in one corner, while a compact oven and stovetop nestled snugly against the opposite wall.
You didn't know why, but you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat as you watched Ranpo lean against the counter, his form illuminated by the warm glow of the kitchen lights. He was talking on the phone, his voice low and melodic. He looked way too fine, finer than he did before you had fallen asleep; the way his dark hair fell across his forehead in a casual sweep made you want to unwittingly reach out and tuck it behind his ear, to feel the softness of his hair against your fingertips.
You blinked your eyes like an owl once you realised what kind of thought had just unwittingly crossed your mind.
As he spoke, his eyes flickered over to you briefly, and you felt your heart race as you met his gaze. For a moment, you hesitated, feeling like an intruder on a private conversation. He ended the call and then arched a brow as you entered the kitchen.
"You're awake," he said—his eyes raking over your form from head to toe. You probably looked like an idiot right now; your hair must have resembled a lion's mane and you wouldn't have been surprised if there were vivid sleep lines across your cheeks. "I just ordered pizza. Should be coming in less than an hour."
Your eyes widened in surprise. You had never expected Ranpo to do something so simple and ordinary as ordering pizza, especially not for you. For a moment, you were unsure how to react, but then a playful smirk spread across your face.
"So you want me to stay longer, detective?" You quipped, teasingly.
Ranpo's lips were pursed in a peevish crease. "Don't get the wrong idea," he replied, his tone sharp. "I ordered pizza because I was hungry, not because I wanted to entertain you. And besides, we still haven't finished detailing the case."
