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All or nothing.
That is a sentence every gambler knows well. They play, and something they can decide is whether to risk their luck by putting everything on the line, be safe, and keep all the coins to themselves, or to feed into their joy, and bet on a small amount. The last one is also preferable. Less risk comes with less chance at winning, but also less chance of uncertainty.
But control is out of the question.
If someone bets, they’ll get momentary happiness. The feeling of the adrenaline running in their bloodstreams straight up to their mind is calming. They don’t think. They don’t worry about anything else. The only thing floating infront of their hungry eyes are the coins stacked on the table or the horses reaching the finish lines on a small screen.
But how long does it really last? Exactly until the round is over.
And then the cravings hit.
One more, and I’ll win for sure.
One more, and I’ll feel better.
One more, and I’ll be pleased.
One more, and I’ll stop.
I need more of this feeling.
I need more of this excitement in my dull life.
More.
More!
More!
It’s a lifestyle. Putting everything in, losing, and starting again. A singular coin will control their every waking thought, every decision, and every movement they dare to make.
The desire keeps crawling back, seeing no obstacles and borders to it’s cruelty. It just keeps reappearing and take over everything, no matter how long they’ve been „clean”. It will be there.
Or maybe it never even left.
Ranpo Edogawa wasn’t a huge gambler himself – he had never set a foot in a casino before, and was not interested in doing so, despite reaching the age, he’d be legal to indulge in activities such as this. But he always thought of this as unnecessary and to simply put, boring.
He didn’t like the unexpectedness of it being based around pure luck. Deduction and hidden details key to the end was more of his cup of tea as a detective.
And yet Ranpo found himself in the constant state of All or Nothing.
Whenever he stood infront of the food cabinet. Whenever he opened the fridge. Whenever he passed the snack isle in a store he visited weekly. The urge hit it’s head up in his mind, whispering taunting words in his ears to pursuade him. Repeating the same words again and again, having told so much he himself believed it.
That he needed to eat it until he’s too full to enjoy the feeling anymore.
Ranpo would open the refrigerator’s door, then close it. ’Don’t’, he’d tell himself, all too aware how it is going to end. He’d circle around the counter in his kitchen, get himself a glass of water and hope it’ll fix everything. But when his stomach betrays his mind and begins to rumble endlessly, he realises he needs to eat. Not for his own pleasure, but for his body’s maintainence.
Pre prepared meals are always in his fridge; he didn’t like spending his afternoons on weekdays cooking his lunch for the upcoming day, so he’d much rather bite the bullet on Sundays and get it over with. Ranpo would take one box out, heat it up, and eat it as he watched something on the tv.
The couch was his favourite spot to endulge in his – mainly attempted – nutritious meal. Not too much spice, lukewarm regardless of the course, and mainly foods he could easily make. Resting one of his legs up on the headrest as he half lay and half sat on one of the ends and showeled the spoonfuls in his mouth. He wouldn’t move until he was finished… and it always happened rather fast.
Ranpo always put the empty box in the sink with the intention of washing it later, and then simply stood in the middle of the kitchen.
He could still feel the aftertaste of the food in his mouth, but not in a disgusting way. Rather, it started a cycle inside him. Even if his stomach didn’t plead hunger, his mouth would.
So, to please this ”need”, he’d get himself an apple or a snack bar as a reliever for his previous full meal. ’That must be enough’ he always thought, considering he had just filled his stomach. He’d devour it in a few bites, and then head out of the kitchen.
Only to have this unease.
You see, Ranpo didn’t exactly like this ’nothing’ feeling. When he’d be just full enough to not feel the weight of the food and to not have his rumbling stomach cut throught the silence.
It was bland. During times like this, he’d want more. He’d find himself back at the kitchen, rummaging through his cabinets. ’Just this one’ he told himself. ’Just this one and I’ll skip dinner just to be safe.’
But it never works.
The discipline he had always thought he had disappears like a shadow in the setting sun, trying to hold into it for as long as he possibly can, but eventually loses all it’s form as the time passes.
And alas, he’d be sitting by a lake of rubbish of the snacks and leftover crumbs.
Every single piece of candy had an outer layer of filth only he could see. It covered every sweet like paint and tainted his fingers whenever he reached out for them to unwrap and gobble up. The disgusting dirt would be everywhere; his fingertips left traces on every surface it touched afterwards, it dripped from the corner of his mouth and smudged all over his lips, and it lingered in the gaps of his slowly rotting teeth like a pair of braces.
And no matter how much he cleaned himself from the ink invisible to others, whenever he looked in the mirror it as already there, covering his face from chin to nose.
The scene was nauseating every time. He was always sick to his gut – whether due to the overflowing feeling of fullness or the acknowledgement of his sins, he couldn’t figure out. And yet, he found himself committing the same crimes again and again and again, ending up infront of the same mirror with the same filth splattered on his face and painting him like the clown he felt he was.
Only because he gave in.
Ranpo would notice his trousers getting snug. He hated that word. It gave a sense of mock to him whenever he would think of it or hear it from anyone.
’Rough week, I see?’ was a hidden meaning behind it.
’It fits you so different – are you even the same person?’ was a question he associated with the word.
’Have you been watching what you’ve been eating? I’m only asking because it’s rude to outwardly tell you.’ was something he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear as a follow-up.
Ranpo didn’t want anyone to see him like this. After all, he was looked up to wasn’t he? Out of all the people, he should have had discipline. Control. A clear vision of what is right and what is wrong. He should’ve been an admirable person – a detective who isn’t falling into the emotional crime of addiction this easily.
He was tired of his life being taken over by food.
And one day, Ranpo didn’t eat the premade lunch. He opened the fridge, but didn’t take the box out and devoured the meal on his couch like he had always done. He simply stared at it for a few moments while contemplating, then closed the fridge’s door and left the kitchen with no second thoughts.
Ranpo was hungry. There was his stomach rumbling all afteroon, begging for fuel, but he just ignored it.He went on with his day like nothing happened – in a calm state like he had already eaten his meal and had nothing else to consume.
After months, this was the first time he didn’t feel it. That ominous aftertaste, the urge, to eat more than he would need.
It was freeing, of all things.
Food didn’t have control on him for the rest of the day. It didn’t give the oh so well known urge to Ranpo, rather simply the physical reminder his stomach is still empty, which he didn’t deem as important. His mind was always the stronger force, the one behind all his actions, not his physical needs. So, ignoring the latter was a breeze.
Ranpo would much rather feel the hunger than the absolute nothingness or fullness.
And it happened. More often, more times a week, to the point it became a daily thing. He’d purposely not bake or cook on Sundays anymore. He’d avoid tempting foods in the store. He’d stack up on strawberry flavoured gum as a subsitude and for the taste of the sweetness – that was something he hadn’t let go of, and wasn’t planning to.
But the struggle began when he was in the office. You see, Ranpo wasn’t dumb, but neither were the other detectives. Ranpo was aware it’d catch attention, if he’d suddenly stop a habit he was known for. So, to avoid all questions, he’d limit himself to a singular pack of gummies throughout the day, and make sure to only plop one in his mouth when someone was looking. He’d chew on for long enough till his jaws were tired of the same piece, and then only swallow after his colleague had averted their gaze.
It was still humiliating, the feeling of something as unhealthy as a gummy bear slowly dissolving in his mouth, but if he were to skip both breakfast and dinner, that one bag would last him all day – without the quilt slowly devouring him like he had been doing with the sweet poison. ’Something in exchange something’ he told himself.
The habit continued for some time, when Ranpo began to see changes. His trousers were fitting from snug, to normal, to loose on the waist. If Ranpo didn’t want the Great Flash of Our Time happen, he’d need to use a belt to keep his bottoms up where they needed to be. Luckily, his shirts were long enough to cover the tracks of his eating habits. Ranpo’s colleagues wouldn’t notice the evidence of his past crimes and the aftermath that resulted in his weight loss.
Ranpo found himself looking at himself more as he was passing my windows and mirrors. He’d glance at it just fast enough to take in his form and the way his clothes draped over his body hidden underneath. He always noted things to himself; if he had looked thinner, if he would be bloated or if he had gained anything back when he ate dinner on rare occasions.
Often he’d simply smile to himself, and be proud he’s in control.
But of course, there’d be times where he’d slip up, and today was no different.
It was Ranpo’s birthday. A day where he’d have almost all attention to himself. A day where he’d feel like the world is doing everything in his favour. But it also mean it was a day where he’d recieve presents. But in what form? Of course, in something the others would think he loved; sweets.
It was done with good intend; everyone tried to surprise him with that they believed he’d still enjoy, and maybe Ranpo’s plan on his situation staying hidden worked too well. Ranpo would accept the gift with a smile, despite the warzone in his head. He was too aware he shouldn’t lash out on his friends for something as little as this, even if he wanted to cross his arm and make the most disgusted face ever at the neatly picked out gummies and candies that the others cared enough to buy, but sometimes he wished he could have let out his frustration.
Ranpo was doing so good this week, but there was he now.
In the same afternoon, he found himself lying on the bed on his side, with an uneasy feeling. He had done it again. Ranpo sucked on one lollipop first from the gift basket. And then that unnerving taste of wanting more had returned, probably the first time in months. He ate. Tore open the wrappers and shoved it into his mouth. Grabbed the next candy after he finished another. And he didn’t care at that moment.
But Ranpo very much cared when he felt his stomach filling up and the nausea lingering in his throat. When his shirt fit differently. When his actions had reached his mind.
The Agency arranged a party for his birthday, but he wasn’t so sure he’d bear going out.
Ranpo didn’t want to be seen like this. In a state, where every inch of him told a tale of weakness and lack of self-control; each destroyed sweets’ faint marks covering skin like the bloody crime scene they investigated on the daily. It would be shameful to show up like this mess of a loser he was to the people that looked up to him and appreciated him.
He watched the group chat explode on the phone he was tightly holding. Members discussed when to meet up and where to hang out. And, the hour of the event was coming closer and closer as Ranpo stared at the screen with the sheer disgust washing over his contemplation.
’Sorry guys, I can’t make it today!!!!!!’
The words came smoother than he would’ve expected. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he told himself but also knew how it would definitely let the others down. He, the birthday boy, turned down the plans arranged from around a week before, last minute.
To not have to bear the aftermath of his decision, he turned off his phone and threw it across the room.
Even if Ranpo had nothing to worry about for the remaining of the day – no one would be able to see him like this anymore – he still couldn’t let go of the discomfort by the thought of the sweets and the pure fullness.
He knew better than to hunch over the toilet and throw it all up. He vaguely remembered it when he attempted it one time, but eventually came to his senses as he was gagging and stopped. ’What are you even thinking?’ he asked himself back then.
It was a pity escape, Ranpo knew that. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but maybe the disgust will cover the aftertaste of the urge. No. It’s insane to even think about it. A grown man with responsibilites shouldn’t turn to short term solutions like this to relieve himself.
’What are you even thinking?’
And then he glanced over to the foot of the bed.
The pile of wrappers looked back at him in a way no human could have an expression this mocking, despite the rubbish not even having a face. The way each folded over the one under it, the way it spread over on the ground, the way it resembled something he had wished to lock away.
Ranpo checked the time and noted it had been 25 minutes since the last piece of crime thrown onto the mountain the rest had formed.
’Maybe this once….’
He got off his bed.
’…I’ll feel better….’
He left the room.
’….just this once…’
And headed to his bathroom.
’…then maybe I won’t crave for more.’