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The sounds of clinking silverware and casual conversation fill the large dining hall of Edgar's mansion.
He and his dear husband, Ranpo, were having dinner together as they often did. They'd sit down at the lengthy table at around seven to eight o'clock to enjoy both their meals and each others company.
Ranpo was always very talkative over his food as if some sort of incessant need to fill the silence possessed him and spun into words. Not that Edgar minded, of course, no— he loved to hear him speak. His rambles about ADA cases or a snack he had tried that day were always entertaining to Edgar. It warmed his heart— contented him— to merely watch Ranpo delight over his day.
Ah, his lips were just about the most captivating thing Edgar had ever seen— second only to the rest of him, naturally. Goodness, he could get lost in those eyes of his forever. Oftentimes, he forgets to breathe because he's staring so intently into Ranpo's gleaming pools of forestry and gemstones.
His eyes follow the pathway up to his soft locks of hair. How he eats so poorly and maintains such perfect strands of inky rivers will forever be a mystery he cannot solve. As is how he has managed to sculpt such a delicate ridge of nose, perfectly befitting his face…
Ranpo was staring at him back. He quickly finds himself devoted to his steak and salad, instead, as his curly tufts of bangs come forward to hide part of his embarrassment.
Oh, how he hated getting caught watching Ranpo by the man himself. It took away precious time that he could be using to continue admiring his husband.
Edgar selected a knife to the right of his plate and cut into the meaty steak on it. It was perfectly cooked, as it usually was. Nothing but perfection was good enough to serve to his dearest Ranpo.
It was curious, though, how the selection of utensils today was much more vast than he usually served himself. Did he really imagine he'd need any more than one knife? Certainly not, so why were there three?
It was of no matter. Ranpo had diverted his attention back to storytelling, so now he was free to appreciate his love once more.
Oh— that laugh, how he so adored it. Heavens, even his teeth were perfect. Not a cavity or yellow tooth in sight, despite the candy…
Beautiful both inside and out.
A curious expression.
It most certainly fit Ranpo Edogawa, even with his boasting that some may find displeasing. He most certainly did not, for Edgar knew that Ranpo could back up all of his arrogant claims. Quite honestly, it was a part of his charm.
One could consider, though… was this expression ever used literally? Was it possible to see one's perfect exterior, and manage to look beneath the surfaces of skin, fat, and bone, and find equal perfection?
Love and beauty is always told to stem from one's heart, it is universally known.
To be able to observe such elegance, such an ineffable thing with his own eyes….
Ranpo released a loud groan, followed by a belch.
Elegant indeed.
"Man, am I stuffed! Compliments to whoever you have in the kitchen back there, Ed, that was great!" Ranpo declared, patting his slightly bloated stomach.
He was right of course— he always was, but yes— the steak was quite incredible.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said softly.
"Yeah, but now I'm tired." Ranpo stood up sharply, stretching his arms high into the air while releasing a loud yawn. "I'm going to bed. It's not like it's too early, at least. Come cuddle with me?"
Before Edgar could react, Ranpo was already off, sprinting up the grand stairs. He sighed and shook his head to himself, standing from his seat in a much calmer manner.
He still had some steak left. That was alright, he supposed, given that he wasn't hungry anymore.
Yet, he was still bothered. More than likely from the dilemma of the three knives he'd provided for himself.
Really, he could just return them to the kitchen. The chef had returned home by now, so there was no need for his usual crippling anxiety.
There was similarly no need for him to swipe one of the sturdier, polished knives, but he had done it regardless.
At least now he could go and fulfill Ranpo's desires to cuddle before they succumb to slumber. How lovely, he!
Coming upon the landing of the great stairs and through his bedroom doorway, Edgar could hear the precise moment that the shower water had turned off in their connected bathroom. A shower would be amenable, to add to the relaxing air of their post-dinner embraces.
Watching Ranpo step out in a white fluffy robe was also a nice incentive to be clean.
It seemed as if there was nothing more natural in the world than slipping under his many white, silken sheets, right next to the warm being that was his life and soul. To be close to this man was all he could ever ask for in life. To spoil him, to care for him, to love him; his entire existence yearned for his dearest Ranpo.
Edgar shuffled closer, wrapping a lengthy arm around the smaller man, burying his nose into the soft waves of black. He smelt of apples— his preferred shampoo.
Ranpo squirmed closer to him as well, seemingly enjoying their proximity. Edgar gave a low chuckle as he twisted around in his arms, connecting the two of them like a perfectly crafted puzzle piece, custom made and unique to only the two of them, and the two of them alone.
This peaceful haze of two lovers tangled together, curled and cuddled in bed on a moonlit night, was silent and perfect.
Yet…
Yet Edgar felt… off… after only a few minutes.
He truly shouldn't. The two of them were close, no one else in the house— even the maids— and yet. Something felt distant.
Giving in to the urge, Edgar shifted slightly closer to his husband. A displeased whine slipped from Ranpo at the movement, much to his amusement. But he still wasn't close enough.
He huffs quietly, wrapping his arms completely around Ranpo, as well as his legs.
Not close enough.
He squeezed Ranpo some more. This, usually, would stop these odd thoughts floating about his mind.
But tonight was different. He could tell.
It seemed Ranpo could as well, as those piercing emerald eyes found themselves on his stormy. A knowingness dulled his eyes. How he loathed to make his love worry so.
Ranpo's eyes turned more thoughtful. "Would you like to have some skin-to-skin time? I'm a bit warm, anyways."
Ranpo was never a good liar. He was always cold, even under his fuzzy robe and four blankets.
"That would be… nice," was all that left his lips.
Sounds of shuffling quickly filled the air as they both pushed their robes off of their bodies. Edgar hated being so far from Ranpo now— only mere feet, but so, so extremely far— but unfortunately, that was the price to pay to get readjusted.
As soon as their garments were off, thrown aside somewhere on the planked floor, Edgar was leeching right back on to Ranpo. He sighed contentedly, his shoulders loosening and eyes closing.
Ranpo was cuddling back just as good, always there to soothe his aches and urges.
Oh, how he adored him.
Just as a haze was passing over his mind, just as his dreams were about to claim him as their own, he was repossessed with the need to be closer.
Why, just why couldn't this leave him?
His grip around his husband tightens, desperate to evade this want, but instead of helping, he catches the muffled noise of pain from Ranpo.
Edgar releases him immediately, his arms leaving his body as if stung. "I- I'm so sorry, Ranpo dear. I didn't mean to hurt you, I-!"
"Ed, it's alright. You didn't hurt me, you just squeezed a little too much. Take it down a notch," Ranpo says easily.
He was always so calm when Edgar got panicked. A grounding anchor when he needed sturdiness under tidal waves of anxiety.
At the moment, Ranpo's hands carding through his locks were that anchor. A steady, soothing motion that was easy to latch onto. He sighs, forcibly relaxing his body and placing a hand on his love's waist once more.
Up through his bangs, he sees those eyes once more. Those lovely eyes, holding only fondness and love for him— for Edgar. His heart almost cannot stand it.
"You truly are the most beautiful thing on this Earth, my dear Ranpo." The words slip out before he can hold them back, soft and breathy. "I just can't help but want to see all of you, all of your beauty."
Ranpo gives him an unreadable expression, something that words seem to fail at describing. It's full of that same tender love, yet sad. Melancholy.
"You've seen all of me," he murmurs.
"I haven't. You are perfect on the outside, but I do so want to know if it's the same on the inside…"
Silence reigns for a moment, the very air between them laid undisturbed.
His husband shifts. "Would you like to find out?"
A beat.
"More than anything."
"Then… find out."
Oh.
Oh.
He knew.
It… It was silly to imagine otherwise.
Ranpo is so, so intelligent and perceptive… it's no wonder he could figure out that Edgar wanted to open him up, see for himself what beauty lay beneath his skin.
And he had granted him permission.
By the very fact that Edgar wasn't in handcuffs now.
It took more out of him than he'd care to admit to bother to grab the knife from his discarded robe on the floor.
It took a moment of searching, but eventually his hand came in contact with the sleek handle of the tool.
The tool… yes, he supposed that's what it was. A tool convenient to use to get into the depths of his love's very core. How exciting of an idea, too.
However, he didn't wish for Ranpo to be in pain. He hated seeing Ranpo upset. It was all that was available at the moment, but the bottle of painkillers on his nightstand should do alright for him. The bottle of little pills rattled as he returned to his bed, to his dearest Ranpo. The knife remained silent, nothing for it to come into harsh contact with— yet.
Edgar crawled over to his husband slowly— he felt no urgency in his veins anymore. What was going to happen was going to happen. His mind was aware of that.
Given that, he wanted to take his time. Give sweet, simple pleasures to his dearest Ranpo. He leaned down to him, the two men's faces within a breath's distance, staring, staring staring—
—and then Edgar's lips fell upon Ranpo's.
It was graceful, yes, but so, so sweet. Sweet, but never sickening. Nothing about his Ranpo could ever make him ill. The very idea of "ill" was a counter to that of "Ranpo."
Speaking of, he pulled back, uncapping the painkillers, and pressed them into Ranpo's hands.
He, who swallowed a handful diligently. Such trust was beautiful, and Ranpo was beautiful. He was the very image of trust. Given and received.
Edgar choked on a lump in his throat— his eyes burned with the sting of tears, and yet he was smiling. It had to have been crazy, smiling in such a situation. But his love was smiling right back at him, a beam so full of love and perfection that all had to have been right.
They were kissing again— skin to skin, mouth to mouth, smile to smile, soul to soul. A faint ding resounds, the clink of their wedding rings coming together. The beautiful matching bands he had bought for them when he proposed to Ranpo all those years ago.
The sun was bright and shinning down upon them that day.
Now, the reflective knife Edgar brings up to hold against Ranpo's chest shines in a similar way. He drags it lightly along the pale skin, not yet marking, but admiring.
Always admiring him.
His admiration does not waver when he brings the knife's point to Ranpo's sternum.
Not when he drags it down in a steady line, watching beads of blood trickle up from the cut.
Not when the knife goes from skin to fat.
Not when the knife hits bone, and certainly not when Ranpo visibly throws all of his focus unto Edgar, lest the shock takes him before he can.
At least Edgar wasn't so affected by the sight. He could easily run his finger along the bisection, watch the blood pool and trail behind it, and admire the mesmerizing shades of red.
Encouraging the knife more, pressing a little deeper, he finds himself enraptured by the internal flesh of his husband, so much more delicate and precious than he had ever considered before.
It was delightful.
It was debilitating.
It was all he could ever want and need as he pushed the knife just so more, pressing the flesh up and his hand down, down, down into the cavity that was Ranpo's very functions.
He was so, so close to his love. It all made sense now, why he never felt close enough to him. It's because this— this was what he had been craving all along!
He could hardly breathe, reaching his hand for that final piece he needed. That last and final little thing that would complete him. Complete the puzzle that was his vision of Ranpo and all of his perfection. The embodiment of perfection that was breathing hard and staring harder, only at him.
Edgar all but cheers when he finds it.
With a gentle tug, with careful maneuvers, with all of the love in his body, he removes Ranpo's heart.
He holds his prize— for that's what it can only be referred to as— up high as it will go, his eyes tracking harder than ever before on the scene of his dearest Ranpo staring right at his very own heart. The heart that had carried so much love for him for all of this time. So much pureness and perfection— right within the palms of his hands.
He cannot bear to focus on anything other than it.
"I finally understand it…" Edgar whispers, reverently. "He is just as beautiful internally, as he is externally. Quite honestly, I find his heart to be even more so. Soft, firm, and an ever so captivating cherry red. This— This must certainly be why hearts are considered the symbol of love," he breathes, eyes wide.
With a shaky breath, he turns his head up to Ranpo.
How strange it is to see him so still. The man usually is constantly moving. So full of life. Yet, now his chest no longer expands and contracts.
Edgar sighs, his eyelids coming back down to him. He glances lazily at his knife, covered in that colorful crimson, before giving a swing to fully detach the heart.
It's not as if Ranpo was using it now.
He takes in a deep breath, before lying back down on his side, reaching an arm over his husband. He chooses to ignore the blood creeping across his white bedsheets.
Heart still in hand, he takes the cooling hand of his lover and brings it to his lips. The gold metal ring brushes against them.
It's cold.
Rolling onto his back, he pulls his knife closer to him once more. Yet, this time, he turns it onto himself.
In one quick motion, he peels his own flesh and blood away from the same spot he chose for his dearest Ranpo. It was harder to grasp his own heart, but the numbness from finally attaining Ranpo's was useful.
Little around him was perfect without him, after all.
A strangled cry left his lips.
Oh, so that's how Ranpo viewed it.
No wonder he couldn't stand it.
His head lolled over, looking at Ranpo's still form.
With a trembling hand, he placed his heart on the bed right against his love's.
Dizzy and with poor breathing, Edgar let his eyes fall closed, with the last view he saw being that of his dearest Ranpo.