Edgar Allan Poe (Oneshots)

Love Letters

You and Poe have been friends for years. You knew him before he knew Ranpo, and you've been with him all this time. You've helped him through every hard moment, every sleepless night, every social test, everything.

Having come from a low income family, you didn't have much money. Therefore, you didn't have a very nice house either, but that didn't matter because at this point, you practically lived with Poe. He even had a bedroom in his house specifically for you. You were closer than close could be, so it truly shouldn't have been much of a suprise when you found boxes of letters he'd written to you over the years.

Around a week ago, Edgar had asked you to house sit. He was going on a trip just for a couple of days, but he needed someone to watch Karl, seeing as he wasn't allowed to bring the small animal with him.

Currently, you were showering Poe's bedroom, trying to find the treats he told you he left for Karl. You searched every shelf, drawer, bookcase, cabinet, everything. The only thing left you could think of looking in was his closet - maybe he had some stuff for Karl in there? When you opened the large, thick oak doors to his closet, you thought maybe you'd found the treats. Four boxes sat on the floor of the closet, neatly stacked, one on top of the other.

Hmm....that's odd.

Crouching down, you gently reach for a box, Karl coming between your legs and nuzzling your ankles, as if trying to tell you to stay away. Regardless of his warnings, you pull the box out from the shadows.

"To y/n" read the lable, a neatly painted one, outlined in a gold ink on the box. Out of curiosity, you opened it. Dozens, if not hundreds, of letters, all sealed and written to you, lay in the box. You reach for the first one, just wondering what it might be. Carefully, you tore off the seal and began to read Edgar's neat handwriting.

It had been written only a couple of days before he left for his trip.

"Y/n, are you reading this? Sometimes I wonder if maybe you've already found all these boxes, the hundreds of letters in each one, all addressed to you. But if you had, surely, you wouldn't allow me to continue writing without saying a word, right? I'm unsure of this. I love you more than words can describe; you leave me confused, astounded, bewitched. Yet even as a poet, I can not fathom how to write it. The angels themselves pine for you; the seas would whirl themselves in a dance just for a hope of you gazing into them; the leaves would form words in the trees in the hopes you would read them; the sky itself would collapse for your very attention. I'm merely a man. There is little I can offer you, my greatest love, but I would offer it all. If happiness could be bought, I'd wrap it in a lovely bow and place it into your hands; if the world could be gifted to a girl, it would be you. If a woman's beauty could steal the wind's breath, it would have lost it the moment you were brought to the world. Your joy is all I long for, I swear by the Lord as my witness, my very own heart begins to beat in a the moment a smile graces your face."

That was where the letter ended. "Oh Edgar," you couldn't help but say outloud. Maybe one more letter wouldn't hurt to read. Picking up the next one, you began to read. Minutes later, another one; then again; again; once more.

You glance to your side and see Edgar's fluffy raccoon curled up beside you. How long had you been reading these letters? You glanced down, noticing the box was nearly empty by this point. A substantial pile of wax seals had accumulated right by your knee, an even larger group of letters beside it. You hadn't thought about it before you started, but how would you make sure Edgar didn't notice? You didn't exactly know how to make wax seals, and you certainly didn't know where he kept such things. Carelessly, you shoved all the letters back into the box and stuffed it back into his closet.