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Proposing to someone who prides himself on knowing everything that goes on was way harder than one might assume. Poe naturally wants something romantic, something they can look back on when they're old and sigh in happiness at the beauty.
He wants to make it a moment where poets will see the pictures and be compelled to write—to put their own words to the moment and allow it to grow past something made just for them.
Edgar has thought up a million different ways of proposing to Ranpo throughout their years together. Constantly wringing his creative juices dry as he attempts to properly translate his words from English to Japanese without losing their meaning.
Without making it seem meaningless.
Translating the love he feels from his heart onto paper was easy, practically seamless in it's transfer...and yet he couldn't do the same with the language. Maybe it was because his Japanese wasn't up to the level it should be to create the proper prose, maybe it was because he was only skilled in english.
The point was...he couldn't offer Ranpo, the love of his life, his eternal rival, something subpar as a showcasing of their love. Not when he was enamored with the way their minds matched each other...he couldn't disappoint him that way.
And so, nearly ever draft he created over the past decade had been tossed out in search for the perfect words. The perfect moment where he knew Ranpo wouldn't reject him or feel dejected by his feelings.
A whirlpool of thoughts swam within his mind on a spindle in jumbles he couldn't control, mixing together in odd connections of Japanese and English he couldn't pin-point. Poe sat there, silently staring into space as the conglomerate of thoughts were slowly becoming controlled by his brain.
Turning it into a single string of thought within his brain, knotted-up wool tangling between his fingers as it rolled through the machine.
Attempting to create something from a collection of too-much.
How is one action, one small collection of words, supposed to properly convey all the emotions he's felt for Ranpo through their time together. How is he supposed to explain the tingling in his stomach and the way his body throbs with need whenever Ranpo's near, his nerves lighting up in a way not unlike when he's riddled with anxiety and yet it made him feel one-hundred-times better.
Edgar was good with words, they were his forte—his ability relies on them...his life relies on them—and yet he couldn't describe the way Ranpo makes him feel.
The blossoming love eternally holding him close.
The thought plagues him as he sits on the couch in their shared apartment, Karl nuzzled against his chest like the perfect weight. His head leaning just slightly off Poe's chest to stare at the lounging form of his boyfriend sprawled across the ground.
An assortment of candy and snack spread out in front of him for proper sorting. Kicking his legs back and forth in the air, letting them fall back to meet Poe's lounging ones before popping back up in a repetitive motion.
Making their legs bounce with each meeting.
Staring down at Ranpo, so in his element and yet perfectly soft to the touch. No part of his body on edge or thinking about anything other than his snacks—it had taken many years after Dostoyevsky for Ranpo to fully relax once again.
Thousands of hours in forced therapy (physical, occupational, and regular) for them to get to this point. To where they could stop worrying about the next move he was going to make or if their friends (in Ranpo's case family) were going to make it to the end.
It had been many years since Ranpo's needed to have his brain turned on twenty-four seven and Poe was happy to see it.
Happy to witness it after everything that went down, all the terror-filled years where he was dragged into ADA snuggle piles, the temporary loan of Karl...it all finally seemed worth it.
To sit here, in their home, snuggled up and soft thinking about something as mundane (or nerve wrecking, but mundane for them) as marriage and growing their life together. Poe loved Ranpo with his entire being...and conveying that through words, even after everything, wouldn't ever feel right.
Its a startling realization to have while his service animal walks away from him to cuddle with his boyfriend. Nuzzling against him while Edgar's mind reals with the thought: 'He doesn't have to find the right words to propose to Ranpo...Ranpo will say yes either way.'
He doesn't need to worry about getting it just right, making it a surprise for the man who knows it all. Poe just needs to be... Poe. The same man he fell in love with, the same man he tackled in a teddy bear suit, the same person who went to him for help, the same person who—despite being his rival—trusted him enough to help him protect his family.
The people he cares about, all Poe ever needed to do was ask.
Glancing at Karl, Poe offers the creature a small smile and gestured towards the bedroom—knowing he had seen Poe pull it out and fret over it thousands of times before. Watching him rush away, Ranpo turned his head to softly look up at the face leaning over him, smiling easily as he takes the lollipop from his mouth and offers it to Poe without even blinking; letting him take a lick before Karl could come back and demand his own.
Running up, the raccoon put the velvet box into Poe's awaiting hand and climbs onto the couch beside him. "My Dearest Ranpo," he begins, watching as the other man straightened himself against the floor. "I love you more than words can say..."
Ranpo glances down at the box with wide, shining eyes—and for a moment time stops along with Poe's heart—gleaming with excitement and impatience.
"Ranpo, darling," Poe's breath shutters as a single tear drops down his cheek. "Will you marry me?"
Before the last word can leave his lips he's pulled into a kiss, encompassing and consuming as he's pulled off the couch and onto a pile of snacks. The floor crunching beneath him while his face is assaulted by the lips of the man he loves.
And Poe thinks that maybe.... Maybe not having the right words is something he could live with.