˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ 𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚙𝚘𝚎 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 ✎ˀ

ˋˏ ༻☘️ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ💞༺ ˎˊ

Words-1029
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(A/N This is very late I know. I haven't had the inspiration more or less the ideas I would look forward to writing. This is a chapter I'm honestly not proud of. I don't like the idea nor the writing. I'm trying to show the characters actual personalities or how I would think they would react instead of how I would act in their situation. But yeah. I have some inspiration now so more chapters will (might) be put out sooner. Again I am sorry for the inconvenience)

The detective's fingers tighten the strings wrapped around the guitar resting on his lap, his attention draining into the instrument. Pouring inside the wooden item and spilling out like a bucket filled at the bottom of a big well. His eyes trailed the strings like rows of ribbon, pulling together like a bow.

He strummed it softly, a sweet melody airing around the apartment; strings of music pulling his lips into a smile. A door creaked open, followed by a tall brunette walking through it, the noise of the guitar luring him into the room; finding the detective lifting his head towards him.

"You're up early, what are you doing." The known poet spoke out, his legs trailing towards the other, sitting on the corner of the big bed they shared, squeaks and strains from the screaming bed under all the weight of the two males.

"Just wanted to spend time with the music, you know." The shorter of the two chuckled to himself, his eyes gliding up towards the writer, his pretty smile showing on his clearly tired face.

"Have you written anything?" He asked calmly, the tilt of his head angling his face close towards the other.

"Kinda." The detective only spoke back, as if answering the question with more of a demonstration, he began strumming the guitar; a beautiful melody echoing in the semi-empty apartment, penetrating the brunette's ears like a long sword.

"Pretty."

"Just like you." The blackette chuckled, his fingers booping the tallers nose, his smile spreading onto the poet like a heavy waterfall, splashing against the sides of the big rocks surrounding it.

The raccoon owner's face built walls of pink tints onto his cheeks, circling around them like pools of paint.

"Such foolish words.."

"They're only true words." The shorter replied, glancing up at the poet, his smile only growing. "And you're cute too." He only continued, his eyes closing; curling with his bright shining smile plastered onto his soft lips.

As if someone spilled pink gradients onto the poets face like he was a canvas, swirling around on his face like dunking water filled sponges into soap; mixing together with ease.

"All you know is flirting, don't you Mr. Edogawa?" He spoke in his normally formal tone; completely ignoring the fact his face was as red as a bucket of freshly picked strawberries.

"It will be Mr. Poe, and yes." The flirtatious detective chuckled at himself, turning the knobs on the guitar once again to tighten the long strands laying on it.

The brunette didn't answer, shuffling closer to the busy shorter of the two to spot what he was so focused on doing. "Edgar?" Words slipped from his tongue.

"Hm?" The poet stood up, glancing down at the questioning blackette.

"Does this sound nice?" He asked with plead, strumming the guitar, some sort of beat formed from it; something anyone could rock their head with.

"Yes it does." The taller chuckled, a smile dashing onto his face like a bolt of lightning. Sparks flew from his face and landed onto the detective, sending his lips into a smile as well.

"This really is entertaining." Ranpo spoke in honesty, another chuckle leaving his parted lips. His fingers crossed those tightened strings once again, yet continuing the process to form what sounded like a back round track for a soft and comforting song.

"Who gave you the guitar?" The writer asked in question, his eyes glued onto the wooden instrument.

It seemed aged with many memories, smiles seemed to be written onto it with an invisible marker. The crossed strings pulled with meaning and depth. The outside was not any different. It was a red tint of wood, marks and scars hitching the instrument, buried deep within the item.

"I don't really know. Tanizaki gave it to me. He said something about putting it to good use and actually playing it. But he never said who gave it to him."

"Perhaps it was his sister."

"She wouldn't own anything like this. Besides, she's too busy trying to kiss her own brother than buy something with so much meaning." The detective sighed, shuttering at the fact of that woman.

"Who knew Tanizaki before the Agency?"

"Fukuzawa probably." Ranpo laughed once again, the thought of an old man owning something like this was a funny thought to him. But it is aged enough to be similar to him. Funny.

Poe only smiled it off, chuckling softly at the happy detective like it was a special film where once it was set off for theaters, everyone wanted to see it. Packed rooms enough to make an extrovert nervous.

"When did he give it to you?" He started up the conversation once again, tilting his head with curiosity.

"A few weeks ago. I never took it out until right now actually." The blackette replied, playing more of the instrument. He started strumming a similar tune to songs he's heard before. Soft, sweet melodies that could make anyone smile. That could make anyone feel at home.

"And why is that?"

The detective stopped his fingers on the strings, a nervous and what seemed embarrassed smile on his lips before his hand traveled up to his neck; like he would be rubbing away his embarrassment. "I actually don't know how to play an instrument, a guitar at that."

"That's impressive then. Mind boggling that beautiful sounds came from your hands when you aren't even trained in the art of it." Gems of recognition appeared into the poets eyes, like a person idolizing someone else, he saw this as something incredibly impressed something similar to a talent.

"Thanks." The detective smiled cheerfully.

They continued fooling around, singing random melodies that popped into their minds.

Enjoying their time together.

Forever.

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