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Kristoph ended yet another disappointing phone call with his parents. Of course that's how it turned out. Could he honestly tell himself he had been expecting anything different?
He sighed wearily, tucking the bar phone into the breast pocket of his button-down shirt, sleeves folded up for the hot Japanifornia weather. He leaned back further into the shade, resting up against the stone support of one of many campus memorial benches, not sure why he was taking a moment to assuage his frayed nerves.
His parents were compulsive liars, bordering on sociopathic. He had learned to accept that many years ago and move on, knowing they would never change.
And yet here he sat. Foolishly frustrated because he allowed a tiny impossible hope get the better of him. He only had himself to blame.
They both had promised him on separate occasions that they were finally getting a divorce and ending the decades-long charade of being a functional family. Somehow, he had come to believe that he had actually managed to convince them.
As he closed his eyes, a brief image came to mind. One that was detached and rational, seeing matters as they really were. Thus, it couldn't be a memory.
He could see himself, a child, standing with his mother at the front door of his early home. There was a strange man there in the entryway, not his father. His eyes were both covered by his mother's hands, as if that could block the sounds they were making or shield him from the knowledge he was already well aware of.
He reopened his eyes. But it was too late; another image was flooding in.
He was slightly older now, wearing glasses. He stood in his father's study with violin and bow in hand. His father looked away from the TV-resembling computer monitor on his desk to direct him with one of his trademark kindly smiles-- the familiar facial expression he always took on before dishing out a promise he had no intention of keeping.
Yes, they were narcissists. Emotionally immature adults. There were countless labels to call them by. But they were his parents. The only ones he had ever known. A reality that had been endured more-or-less simply enough in his youth, and a social obligation that couldn't be so easily ignored, even now. He was fortunate enough to come here to such a faraway university to get away from them and their one-day-hands-off-next-day-controlling demeanors. He had gone into law, as they wanted him to, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
He sighed again, sitting up straight. That was enough. There was no use brooding on it any...
He wasn't sure why it caught his eye. It was just so florescent pink and loud. A knitted sweater with a heart emblem and embroidered initial. The one holding it out, offering it, was a woman with bold red hair, obviously dyed, and delicate white summer's dress. Her spiky-haired companion made a huge fuss in accepting the sweater, even finishing the noisy display off with a teary hug.
It was a tacky gift befitting a tacky couple.
Kristoph chuckled to himself in secret disapproval, shaking his head.
He continued to watch the couple without really seeing and grew whimsical, giving into a long-held fantasy. Truth be told, he was a closet romantic. Ever since his teenage years, he's been re-working and redefining a mental list of attributes describing his ideal of the perfect spouse. He wanted someone above all charming and intelligent. A gentleman who was calm and collected, posed and confident, charismatic, and possibly a selective smooth-talker. He had to of course be handsome, as well as well-groomed, immaculate, and tasteful. He would be a passionate lover, unquestionably loyal and utterly devoted. Someone he could wholeheartedly trust. Kristoph dreamed of one day finding this person, fatefully walking across their path.
But that was impossible. He knew his perfect spouse was nothing but an ideal, his fantasy nothing but a fantasy.
Reality was simply too ugly, nothing like the overly convenient, glossed-over portrayals found in story books. People were self-serving and untrustworthy. They were guile-filled liars like his parents. Every single one of them.
Light blue eyes refocused on the odd duo in front of him. Even those two gag-worthy lovers were no doubt lying to each other, somehow, in some way. All romantic relationships-- the ones that lasted anyway-- were about carefully working around conflicts of interests and learning to look past deceptions, or else blatantly ignoring them altogether.
He couldn't stand that sort of relationship, always having to watch his back, feeling like he was continually being suffocated by his own fears and paranoias, coming to hate the one who was supposed to be closest to him.
No, in all honesty, he knew he was going to be a bachelor for the rest of his life.
* * *
This was the first time in a long while that he's come to a court of law without it being related to a course assignment. He was here on his own initiative, intending to observe the so-called “Rookie Killer”, a certain Winston Payne, in action. Once he got his badge, there was a high chance this man would be his first real threat and enemy, and thus, it was a worthwhile endeavor to scout him out before that time came.
That's what he had been planning on, in any case. But currently, the young rookie Prosecutor Payne was up against was giving him a run for his money. A female attorney by the name of Mia Fey, second case. Perhaps the man was nothing but a fraud after all, almost of the same caliber as his witness.
The show that witness was putting on was nothing special, and yet half the audience and even the judge was enamored with her. It was so overbearing, it became nauseating. He had to suppress the urge to stand and leave every time the seated crowd around him took to heckling or booing on her behalf.
It was an ironic twist of fate that that witness was the red-head in the summer's dress and the defendant she was testifying against the spiky-haired man in the pink sweater. The two lovers he had idly observed just four weeks prior.
Eventually, the tide turned. The rookie's arguments were given more credence. The witness, Dahlia Hawthorne, was ever being put under more suspicion and scrutiny.
However, when the bottle-shaped pendant was presented, the unexpected happened.
“NOOO!! Th-That's a LIE!!”
“Eeeeeek!!”
The defendant, Phoenix Wright, made a mad dive as if to get away. He stole the one scrap of evidence that could have saved him. When he was detained and brought back to the stand, he confessed to having eaten it, chewing the glass up into smaller pieces, poisonous remnants and all.
Kristoph stared, amazed. He had never seen or witnessed such staunch idiocy before. Such blind faith and ardent loyalty. It was nothing short of surreal.
When members of the gallery not-so-quietly mocked the defendant for his “hopeless stupidity”, he ignored them and continued to watch the trial with greater interest.
* * *
It really had to be a twist of fate this time. Ironic, dramatic fate that he saw Phoenix Wright for a third time in the sea of thousands, just a short half-year later. Ivy University wasn't the most prestigious of colleges on the West Coast, but it was one of the largest.
His fellow peer, now rid of the horrid sweater, appeared to be disoriented. He held a paper before his face repeatedly, reminding Kristoph of the lost cold mask, and gazed confusedly at his surroundings.
Something possessed him. It was the only explanation for why he approached the stray student and offered assistance: “Are you trying to locate your next class?”
Phoenix Wright looked startled, then immediately turned sheepish. “Er, was it that obvious?” He recovered easily enough. “You wouldn't happen to know where Solanum Hall is, would you?”
“Solanum Hall?” Kristoph was surprised for various reasons. “Who gave you your schedule? That's the old name for the Mueller Building.” Not to mention, that was the same building as--
“What? Seriously?” The peer hunched his head, looking put out. “I can't believe I've been on a wild goose chase this entire time...”
“You wouldn't happen to be a student of law, would you?” What a bizarre coincidence. “As it so happens, I'm headed to the same building. I could take you there, if you would like.”
“Oh, r-really?” The peer smiled, giving a full-on idiotic grin. “That would be great. Thank you!”
It wasn't just the same building. It turned out they were enrolled in the very same course. Coincidences. Bizarre, bizarre coincidences.
“It is alright if I sit next to you too? Just for this class? This is my first year as a law student since I switched majors, and I don't really know anybody, so...”
“Of course.” Why was he being so exceptionally kind today? “I don't mind in the least.” That was a lie.
But it did seem as though the other had cleaned up his act a bit since he had last seen him. As far as first impressions go, Phoenix Wright was altogether quieter, less excitable, and more contained than his former self. Miles and miles more tolerable. Even if he was dressed in nothing better than jeans and a T-shirt.
They sat in neighboring seats, sharing the same long desk.
“As long as we're classmates, I might as well introduce myself. My name's Kristoph Gavin.”
“My name is--”
“Phoenix Wright, I know. I happened to be there at your trial half a year ago, and you have an unusual name, so I suppose it happened to stick.”
“You were there?!” The classmate blushed, looking not at all pleased at that information. “God, that's embarrassing.”
He politely held in a chuckle at the other's expense. “Why? You were declared innocent in the end, weren't you? You should be glad your attempted murderer was exposed and detained for her crimes.”
“That wasn't her.” The response was so quick, so unexpected, that Kristoph was only half convinced he had heard it. “The woman who took my cold medicine wasn't Doll-- w-wasn't Dahlia Hawthorne. At least the one I knew. I'm sure of it.”
Kristoph gawked, unable to make heads or tails of what he was hearing. Could it possibly be this man was stubbornly holding onto his faith in this old lover, even now? That was so absurd he couldn't even put it into words.
Phoenix Wright frowned, looking down with reluctant sadness. Quietly, he continued, “What I'm saying doesn't really make any sense, does it? Even Ms. Fey said as much.” He sighed. “You must think I'm crazy...”
The only courteous response to that was to divert the subject of conversation: “Ms. Fey... If I remember correctly, that was the name of the attorney who defended you, correct?”
The classmate looked up. Slowly, a soft smile slipped onto his face. “Yeah... She was really good, wasn't she? I can't believe she was willing to believe in me for so long.” The smile grew more emboldened. “Actually, I'm hoping to work under her some day-- once I get my badge.” He gave off a nervous laugh. “That is, if she would even have me. I gave her a lot of trouble back then... I might have to do some major begging...”
* * *
They continued to sit together every class. He probably should have realized that was a likely outcome after disclosing he had known the other from somewhere-- after hearing his classmate's greatest secret, freely given, and his current ambition. It had only been a matter of minutes before the beginning of the proverbial first bell of the first day of the course, and yet he had managed to make Phoenix Wright feel perfectly at ease around him. Perhaps it wasn't that high of a hurdle, given who he was dealing with, but it was only getting worse with every passing class.
And he was failing to do anything on his part to discourage him.
One day Phoenix Wright-- no, Phoenix-- brought a newspaper to class. He haphazardly folded the paper in two before tucking it under his elbow when he sat down.
It was a curious enough object for idle chitchat, so he pointed and asked: “Are you making a new resolution to catch up with the world?”
Phoenix looked down at the black and white print as though he had already forgotten about it. “Oh, you mean this?” He took it out from under elbow, and instead of answering, put forward his own question: “Hey, have you heard of the 'Demon Prosecutor'?”
What an epithet. “I have not.”
Phoenix frowned, as though concentrating on something. “Really? He's been making a lot of headlines over the past few years...”
“My. He's creating quite the reputation for himself then, isn't he?” Strangely enough, the frown deepened. “...And it seems like you've been keeping tabs on him for a while. Any reason as to why?”
Phoenix held the newspaper between two hands, now directing his frown towards the central image on the front. “...I knew him once. He was my friend back in elementary school.” Elementary school? “He was nothing like what everyone's saying about him now. Stuff like 'fabricating evidence' and 'intimidating witnesses'. It's just not the kind of person he is-- was. He wasn't even supposed to become a prosecutor. He had always wanted to be a defense attorney, like his dad. No other kid in my whole school was as convinced of what they were going to do when they grew up like he was. I just... I just can't believe it. Every time I look at a photo of him now, I can't believe that's the same Miles Edgeworth.” Phoenix let go, releasing himself from the newspaper's spell, allowing it to make the short drop to the desk. “...The first time I saw the name 'Demon Prosecutor' and found out who he was, I thought for sure someone was slandering him, or that maybe he was even being framed. But then he kept appearing under that same name, and the stuff being said about him only got worse... When I wrote him a bunch of letters and never got a reply to any of them, I knew something was wrong... That's why I decided.” The other's dark blue eyes looked his way, glinting in resolution. “I made the decision to study law and become a defense attorney. I figured it would be impossible for him to avoid me if I stood across from him in court. I'll finally be able to find out why he changed so much... I just have to... I'll never be able to live the memory of my friend down if I didn't...”
Kristoph stared. The number of times this man succeeded in shocking and amazing him never seemed to end. “Let me get this straight...” he slowly began to clarify, “The reason you switched majors and changed your entire career path was in order to get to a chance to talk to an old friend you once knew in elementary school? I thought you did it because you were inspired by your idol, Mia Fey.”
Phoenix blinked, a momentary look of sheepishness passing over his face. “Well, when you put it like that....” The embarrassment left. “And Ms. Fey definitely was an inspiration for my decision. I've always wanted a calling where I feel like I'm helping people, being there for them when no one else is on their side. Ms. Fey showed me that's what being an attorney is all about when she defended me during my trial... But the one who first showed me... The one who inspired me to go after that calling in the first place was Miles Edgeworth, a fourth grader who dreamed of being just like his father...” Phoenix looked aside, as if staring at something that wasn't there, perhaps a distant memory. “He defended me once too-- during a class trial. He and someone else. They were on my side when no one else was...” Dark blue eyes refocused. “I guess it seems a little corny or not that big of deal, but to me, back then, it meant the world-- it still does, honestly. I honestly think I am a different person because of it.”
His eyes were getting numb with too much staring, his creased forehead almost stuck. “So... are you trying to help your friend now? As he once helped you? Are you doing it out of gratitude?”
Phoenix grew thoughtful. “...I don't think so? Well, I guess partly, but more than that.... I just can't accept my friend as he is now. He's just too different-- at least with how everyone is saying he is. I know fourth grade was a long time ago, but I want to believe in my friend. I do believe in him. I know he's in there, inside of the 'Demon Prosecutor' somewhere. And I'm going to do my very best as an attorney to dig him out.”
Kristoph couldn't respond. He wasn't even given the chance as the professor just then called for their attention.
Yes, Phoenix Wright was surreal. His undying faith and loyalty unlike any other. A man who put his utter trust in others and naively expected the same in return. His heart laid bare, open like a book.
A real, breathing, tangible human being without guile.
* * *
At some point, they had apparently become close enough friends to share lunch time together-- when the both of them managed to find the time between separate busy schedules, that is. Admittedly, that wasn't often, given the rigorous academic workload of being law students in conjunction with Phoenix's part time job, his internship at a patent law office, and a few other campus-related extracurricular activities. Still, they spent a lot more time together than Kristoph would have before imagined himself spending with anybody, booked planner or no.
“Why are you staring...?” Leaving the question unfinished, Phoenix lowered the BLT sandwich he was eating to wipe at his mouth with his free hand. “What? Do I have sauce on my face?”
Kristoph caught himself in time from visibly starting. He hadn't realized he had been staring until the other pointed it out. That was a blatant sign.
But always the one to remain calm and composed, he easily made up for it: “I was just thinking of asking you a question: What are your thoughts on what we discussed in class today? About the latest proposition on legalizing same-sex marriage yet again failing to get enough votes?”
“It's dumb.” His classmate bit into the sandwich with renewed vigor, almost in anger. He chewed a little but didn't swallow before continuing, “Why can't everyone see it for the form of discrimination it is and move on already?”
He dipped the spoon back into his bisque and mannerly patted a cafe napkin to his mouth before he replied, “You know how those social conservatives are. They believe they're sticking to their moral roots, and they won't back down.” He set the napkin down as well. “It's only a matter of time, though. It's clear what direction the nation is moving in... The crucial question, nevertheless, is the timing. What is your estimation for when that will be?”
“Two years hands down. Maybe even sooner, if they keep making propositions fast enough.”
Kristoph blinked, incredulous. “Are you serious? That's far too optimistic. Do you realize how long this battle has been waging in both the courts and the voting polls?”
“I know. But every battle's got to end, right? And I feel like we're nearing the end of this one.” Phoenix crumpled the empty carton between his hands. “This country's really making a lot of progress, all things considered, and Japanifornia is at the head of that. I mean, every time we overturn a form of discrimination in the courts or in legislation, we become more open-minded and kind-hearted as a people. It makes us more capable-- I think-- of recognizing other forms of discrimination for what they are and far more willing to put a stop to them. That's why it shouldn't be very long before we stop discriminating against the whole LGBTQ community as a people, a state, and a country. Pretty soon, gay marriage is just going to be normal and everyday fact of life that no one will even think twice about.”
Kristoph tapped a hand to his forehead and shook his head lowly from side to side. A gesture he liked to think wasn't condescending but expressed his disagreement well enough. “I'm afraid you're looking at our country through rose-tinted glasses, my friend. My personal estimation is another decade at least.”
“What?! You honestly think it'll be a whole decade?!”
He brightened his smile. “At least.”
“No way. You're wrong on this one, Kristoph!”
“Only time will tell, I suppose.”
Phoenix fell back against the plastic seat of their campus eatery table, visibly dismayed. “But that's so long...”
He went back to eating his soup, trying to think of another topic of conversation. Uncharacteristic of him, he very well nearly blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Have you ever known any same-sex oriented people personally? Those you were aware of being as such, in any case.”
Phoenix didn't take long to think about it: “I knew some people back in high school, especially in my art classes. They were friends, but we didn't ever really talk about LGBTQ rights and stuff like that, at least not seriously. I'm not sure why.”
He didn't know why the other's answer half surprised him. He was already well aware of the fact that his classmate was straight.
He wished he could say he was just as uncertain of what emotion he was masking in renewing his bright smile. “Well, you could say you know one personally now, and you wouldn't be lying. I'm gay.”
Phoenix was understandably taken aback by his sudden confession. “Oh really?” Though then, for some reason, he was grinning, leaning forward on plastic table and looking excited. “Well, that's cool! That's super neat!”
His smile expertly held. “Is it? I thought it was 'normal and everyday fact of life'?”
Phoenix blushed, receding in his embarrassment. “Ah, sorry.” His toothy expression now reflected the sentiment. “I reacted a bit too overly enthusiastic there, didn't I?”
“A little.”
“Well...” His classmate recovered. “I guess I'm glad you feel comfortable around me enough to confide something personal like that.”
“Indeed.” His words were nothing short of sincere and honest. “You're the second person I've ever told. The first was my brother. Not even my parents know.”
Phoenix looked even more surprised than before. “Wait, really?”
“Honest. I trust you.” It was the first time he ever uttered that phrase truthfully, the grandeur of it all still sinking in for him at the moment.
His classmate fidgeted in his seat under a new sort of embarrassment altogether. “A-Ah, well, I trust you too! And I'm not just saying it back! You're, like, super nice. Super, super nice. I've never met someone as nice and polite and kind as you! I bet you've never gotten angry at someone in your life!”
He chuckled. “In all likelihood, you simply don't know me well enough. Though I do admit I try to model myself after the 'perfect gentleman'.”
Phoenix smiled in obvious relief. “Yes, that! You're the perfect gentleman!”
He met his friend's smile. “Thank you. I'm glad you think so.” And he was. He truthfully was.
The two of them soon parted ways, though a ghost of a smile lingered on Kristoph's lips.
Yes, the ideal spouse didn't really exist in this world. Certainly not as he imagined him, endowed with all the attributes of his overly romantic imagination.
But he had found someone close. Someone unquestionably loyal and utterly devoted. Someone he could wholeheartedly trust. Though it figured that someone wasn't available to him.
There was no denying it. Either his feelings or the reality that he was going to be a bachelor all his life.
He just had to learn to accept it, like everything else before.