Pieces of heat

— I'll stay with you at least all night.       Edgar grinned at Rampo's response and kissed him on the forehead, running his fingers up and down his back in small circles. He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. — It's already 11 o'clock in the evening, and it seems to me that I have written only six pages. — the writer stirred, stretching out his hand to take a cigarette and take a drag. — Maybe I should postpone it for today...       Rampo frowned a little, he didn't like the smell of cigarette smoke. It made him sneeze and didn't feel very nice. But his boyfriend had such a strange habit that manifested itself in the evenings. On the one hand, he understood that the hardships of writing are not easy. On the other hand, cigarettes spoil the lungs. It was a dilemma. In the end, he decided not to lecture him about a healthy lifestyle. Moreover, he really wanted to sleep. He yawned sleepily, snuggling even closer to him. — Can you stay up for another hour, honey? — he asked, finishing his cigarette and putting it out. — I feel like I'm on the verge of something...       Edgar exhaled heavily. — It's been a few months since my last inspiration... I'm starting to worry that I'll never be able to write again. He turned his head and kissed the detective on the cheek. — I know I'm being dramatic. It's just that I get worried so easily.       Rampo knew very well, he was aware of how dependent his boyfriend was on inspiration. Inspiration was something ephemeral, it came and went. And this is something that has had a certain impact on their lives. He would like to help him in this, he wanted it with all his heart. That's just, despite the detective's experience, he could not help with writing the book with the utmost accuracy. So he chose the old proven method. He lifted his head slightly and, smiling faintly at him, left a kiss on his cheek in return. He whispered softly to him. — I will always be there for you.       Edgar's face lit up when he felt his boyfriend's gentle touch on his cheek. — You can't imagine how much comfort these words bring me. — he leaned back on the sofa. — You are the love of my life, Raipo. I do not know what makes you stay with me... maybe I really don't deserve you or your loyalty. his voice faltered as he spoke softly, holding back tears. I just wish I could do something to make up for it all.       Rampo didn't like how it all sounded, in fact, he was somewhat scared by these words. In the evening there were heavy conversations. He hugged him even tighter, as if trying to give him a piece of his energy. And so it was. He frowned again, this time with concern. It wasn't necessary. He shook his head in protest. And finally muttered to him. — I don't need anything. It's enough for me that you're around.       The writer sighed, allowing himself to be hugged and comforted like a child. a moment later, he was already struggling with the tears that welled up in his eyes, looking at him with a slight tired smile. — Thank you, —he whispered, snuggling against his chest. — I don't know... I feel like I've let everyone down, including myself. I don't think I can take this pressure anymore.       His words trailed off. He was silent for a few moments, taking deep breaths.       Rampo felt that now it was his time to solve problems, he was ready for it. Not only because he was the best detective, but also because he loved him very much. And the sight of his boyfriend suffering because of his own fears just tore his heart. He cupped his boyfriend's face in his palms, unobtrusively forcing him to look at himself. There's so much sadness and pain in those eyes right now. He gently stroked his cheeks, giving him a piece of his love. Although his love for him would be enough for the whole world and even more. He confidently whispered to him. — You're not alone, you hear, you're not alone. You don't disappoint anyone. And, if necessary, I will take on most of your burden, just to ease it for you.       The writer's eyes widened when he felt Rampo's warm hands on his face, and the words that followed were almost unbearable to his heart. a single tear rolled out of the corner of his eye and quietly rolled down his cheek. —And you think I deserve it? — he whispered. — What if I write something that disappoints my fans? Or what if my inspiration runs out and I can't write anything else? I got lost...       Rampo felt that it was becoming obviously difficult, he felt that it was becoming dangerous. However, he didn't know how to banish all the fears and self-doubt from his boyfriend's heart. And he could always talk about his love for him, always support him with actions at such moments, he always-always did it. But every time, and right now, he thought it wasn't enough. He took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling faintly at him. If necessary, he will do everything so that his boyfriend has everything that is possible. He kissed him timidly, whispering softly. — Yes, of course. These are not empty words. If no one reads, I will be your loyal reader. If you lose your inspiration, I'll find it for you. And if you get lost, I'll find you.       Edgar was speechless from the huge amount of affection that Rampo gave him. He turned away to hide an embarrassed smile, as he was filled with tenderness for such words. How many times had he tried to convince himself of the same idea that, no matter what happened, Rampo would always be there for him. And now this moment has come. and now, for the first time, those words seemed true to him.       And yet he is... I was afraid.       Because the detective was ready to sacrifice everything possible, even saving the whole world from vampirism, even saving it from its own demons. — I don't deserve you, — he repeated, but this time his voice was much quieter, and there was a slight hopelessness in his tone.       The writer closed his eyes, leaning his head against the Ramp, his lips slightly parted. For a moment, he was lost in thought, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "And all I've ever given you is a bunch of stories to read. And a lot of lies." But he couldn't say it out loud. He was silent for a moment before opening his eyes and looking at Ranpo. There was a small crooked smile on his face. — You really are the best.       And yet Edgar felt that it was the detective's hugs and kisses that were saving him from sinking into a pool of self-hatred right now. Even if he couldn't say it out loud, his clumsy kisses said otherwise. He was grateful to him. Rampo saved him, sometimes without realizing it.