Work Text:
Thursday, December 27, 2029
14:36
Chief Prosecutor’s Office
Miles sat at his desk, reviewing the case that one of his subordinates would be taking on tomorrow. It wasn’t strictly necessary - the case itself was easy and any reasonable defense attorney would be pleading guilty - but he had run out of work to do.
This was not a problem that the Chief Prosecutor ran into often. The legal system had improved somewhat since he had taken up his position, he liked to hope, but it was still as convoluted as ever. This meant that he spent many hours a week filling out and signing various pieces of paperwork, filing old case files away, and otherwise doing what would best be described as busywork.
This sort of work was usually not his favorite, though he understood why it was needed. Still, he would prefer to be assisting one of his prosecutors, perhaps helping with the occasional investigation.
Now all he wanted was more work to do.
It was that time of year again, as he was painfully aware. The nightmares had steadily gotten better every year, but he suspected they would never truly leave him. Without fail, they had returned mid-December like clockwork.
All of the important people in his life, and many of the less important ones as well, knew about DL-6. Those closest to him understood that he needed his space and did not attempt to invade it in any way. Those who did not fit into that category often felt that they were required to offer their condolences to him, whether he wished them to or not.
A fresh bouquet of flowers from Ms. Oldbag was a grim reminder of that fact. Despite all odds, she was still alive. Phoenix seemed to have an ongoing bet with Maya on when Ms. Oldbag would finally kick the bucket which had yet to pan out. She was as persistent as ever in her… affections, though Miles had informed her multiple times that he was already spoken for.
The newspaper headlines had surely done his job for him, but it was always good to be thorough about such things. Especially considering how laden with inaccuracies they were.
( A Scandalous Affair: Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth and Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright Seen in a Café Together! The Rumor Come Out: Does Miles Edgeworth Is Gay? Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Reveals Plans to Marry Famous Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright! Breaking News: Edgeworth and Wright Discovered to Have Secretly Been Together for Over Twelve Years! - Really, was the general public that gullible?)
It was a wonder the two of them had had any privacy at all that first month. After their relationship had shown no signs of collapsing to pieces and they had worked with their respective offices to deal with any potential conflicts of interest, the press had quickly lost interest. Phoenix had made some comment about how one of them would have to go on trial for murder in order to renew public enthusiasm. Miles had rolled his eyes but found it amusing all the same.
Phoenix.
Sometimes it still felt unreal that they were together, after all of those years of unnecessary pining.
It was the small things that got to him. Waking up in the morning and seeing Phoenix next to him in bed, softly snoring. Going on a quick walk to the corner store with him to pick up some more cereal. Being able to reach out and touch him whenever he wanted to.
Miles checked the clock on his laptop again. 2:40 PM. Only four minutes had passed.
He opened up a new tab in his browser, pulling up his inbox in case anyone had decided to email him. Nothing. His hands itched to do something, to find some way to make the time pass quicker. The sooner the day was over, the sooner the night would come, and the sooner he could get the nightmares over with.
This strange type of anticipation was not unlike ripping a bandage off. Better to do it as quickly as possible, even if all you wanted to do was leave it be.
Some small part of his brain felt guilty for being merely exasperated with the pain. It wasn’t as though it didn’t hurt - on the contrary, he had woken up crying three times last night. He was just used to it now. The dull ache in his chest when he first got glasses and looked in the mirror, only to see his father staring back. The tension that manifested in his shoulders on the few instances he had been forced to take the elevator instead of the stairs. It was background noise, until he fell asleep and had to listen to it again.
Miles sighed, checking his clock yet again. 2:45. Phoenix had tried to persuade him to come home from work early today, having successfully convinced him to stay home for the entirety of tomorrow. Though it felt like giving in, he had to admit that work was only making him more antsy.
He slipped a few files into his briefcase. Though it seemed unlikely that anyone would have need of him over the weekend, it never hurt to be prepared. Given his life, there was a good chance something would go horribly wrong the second he stepped outside.
Reaching into his pocket, he whipped out his smartphone. It was a few years old, but still quite serviceable. With a few swipes, he was calling Phoenix.
While waiting for Phoenix to pick up the phone, he used his time wisely - if by wisely you meant needlessly worrying, that is. What if Phoenix had suddenly become busy with a case and the whole “come home early” offer had expired? What if Miles was being too clingy? Sure, Phoenix was the one who had suggested this in the first place, but what if-
“Yellow?” Phoenix said, his voice sounding a bit muffled through the phone’s speakers.
Just like that, all of his worries were quieted. Phoenix cared about him and would do his best to help him through this, just like he had done all those years ago. That man who shone so brightly in his life. While it was perhaps a tad dramatic, his past self wasn’t incorrect in his assessment.
“Miles? You okay?” Phoenix said, prompting Miles to jump a little. Right, he was in the middle of a conversation. No time to wax poetic about how his partner had saved him from his past.
Miles allowed himself a small smile. “I’m quite alright, all things considered.” There was a beat of silence. “I just wanted to call and inform you that I would like to take you up on your offer.”
“My offer? Wha- Ohhhhh! Are you sure? I know that work has always been something that calms you down - which I don’t get, but that’s a-okay - so you shouldn’t feel pressured to take extra time off. I’m happy as long as you aren’t over working yourself, ya know?”
“Phoenix, I am quite sure of this. Besides, I’ve already done everything that I am physically capable of doing, so there isn’t any point in staying any longer.”
Sensing hesitation from the other side of the line, he continued. “I know that I have issues fully expressing my feelings” - Phoenix cut in with a dry chuckle - “but believe me when I say that you have a way of putting me at ease that no one else does. All I’ve done for the past few days is work and wait for this week to be over. I’ve realized now that this might be a more pleasant experience, if anything about it can be considered remotely pleasant, if I spend my time waiting with you. That is, if you’ll have me,” he finished. It was not the most perfect speech ever, but he had said what needed to be said, and that was all that mattered.
Urk. Perhaps he would believe himself if he repeated that thought a few more times. If he was really desperate, he could shout it like Mr. Justice used to do. I'm Miles Edgeworth and I'm fine!
Perhaps he shouldn't. He felt foolish just thinking about it.
“Why wouldn’t I want you to spend more time with me at this time of year? Honestly, Miles, I- thank you. That was one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me. You always used to say that you were awful at romance, but then you start talking like that and I don’t know what to think!” Miles was sure he was a blushing wreck by now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. Given Phoenix’s tone, he was most likely wearing a dopey grin that came to mind all too easily. They may have looked foolish, but the looked foolish together.
“I love you,” Phoenix said, his voice light and heavy at the same time.
“I love you too,” Miles replied. “I’ll be home in about 30 minutes, provided traffic isn’t too horrible.”
“See you then.”
“Bye, Phoenix.” Miles hung up and slipped his phone in one of his pockets, checking to make sure he still had his keys with his other hand. He threw on his coat, which he had worn to work at Phoenix’s insistence. His definition of cold consisted of “below 50 degrees,” while Miles preferred a much more reasonable definition of “below freezing.”
Though he would never admit it, the extra warmth did not go unappreciated.
Picking up his briefcase form where he had left it on his desk, he scanned his office to make sure that nothing was out of place. Of course, nothing was. He’d found himself dusting the bookshelves and reorganizing his drawers a day or two ago, and everything had been returned to its proper place since then.
He exited his office, shutting the door softly behind him. Pulling out his key ring, he locked the door. He had become personally connected to one too many murder scenes in the past, and as such had taken precautions to prevent that from happening again. He didn't need another murder in his office, did he?
Hmm. About half of the prosecutor’s office had keys to his office for one reason or another. Perhaps that wasn’t very wise of him. If someone were to commit a murder in his office, it would likely be someone who was close to him, like one of his prosecutors. This hypothetical murderer’s victim was also likely to be him, and it would do no good to lock his door if it was left unlocked while he was in the office.
Nonsense. He started down the hallway, making for the staircase. There was no reason for any of his prosecutors to murder him. Murders always had a motive, whether that motive was sensible or not, and so long as he made sure there was no motive, he was safe.
As he passed the elevators, he turned his gaze to face the other wall. He could take the elevator if absolutely necessary, and looking at them was normally not an issue, but his nerves had picked back up since his call with Phoenix. Elevators always made him a little paranoid this time of year.
He was being paranoid, that’s what it was. That was why his brain had decided that the potential for his subordinates to betray his trust was the best possible train of thought to follow.
As he pushed open the door to the stairwell, the dingy fluorescent bulbs signalling that nobody was intended to take the stairs on a daily basis, he let his thoughts fall to the wayside. Even after years of doing this, twelve flights of stairs was quite a lot. He focused on going down one flight at a time, putting one foot down after the other. It was meditative, in a way.
He rounded the corner, relieved to see the number one written in bold blue paint on the door. He pushed his way through the door, mentally preparing himself to speak to the receptionist. Her name was Emilia Scalbury, and though she was a lovely person, she had an unfortunate tendency to stick her nose in places it did not belong.
As expected, she perked up the second he came into view. “Mr. Edgeworth,” she said, her characteristic customer service smile plastered on her face. From what he had gathered in his years working with her, that was her natural smile. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t make him feel uneasy.
“Ms. Scalbury,” he responded. It was hopeless to attempt to worm his way out of a conversation with her. At this point, it was best to accept what was coming and get it over with as quickly as possible. “I was just leaving the office. Though it is earlier than I normally leave, I assume that won’t be an issue.”
“No, that won’t be a problem at all! Although, I am curious. You haven’t left early in ages. Where are you going?” His face paled. He must not be as prepared as he initially thought. “Ah, I see. You must be sneaking out to spend time with your boyfriend.”
“Ms. Scalbury, need I remind you that this is a professional environment?" he snapped. "Please take care to refer to refer to Wright in a way that befits such an environment."
Ms. Scalbury, ever immune to his bitterness, laughed. “Well then, are you sneaking out to spend time with Mr. Wright ?”
Miles allowed himself a huff of indignance. “I am returning to my apartment, and as Wright and I live together, it is only fitting that he shall be present as well. May I leave now?”
“You’re free to go, Mr. Edgeworth.” Ms. Scalbury gestured to the door to the parking garage with an overexaggerated flourish. He nodded as he walked past her, eager to make his escape.
Just as he was about to open the door, Ms. Scalbury piped up again. “Wait, one last thing.” Miles turned around, his hand resting on the doorknob. He raised his eyebrows, a silent indication for Ms. Scalbury to continue.
“You aren’t going to be coming in to work tomorrow, right?” she asked. His grip on his briefcase tightened, but he otherwise remained outwardly calm.
“That is correct.” His reply was short and clipped.
“Then I hope you have a good weekend, sir.” In response to Miles’ glare - because really, she hoped that this particular weekend would be good - her cheerful facade dropped slightly. She fumbled with her hands, managing to stammer out, “Err, hold on, that sounded wrong, I just mean-”
“It’s quite alright, Ms. Scalbury. I understood your message clearly enough.” She was trying her best, and though he might not have been as kind to employees like her in the past, (a certain bumbling detective came to mind) now was as good a time as any to start. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, yes. See you on Monday, Mr. Edgeworth!”
Miles gave a small wave of acknowledgement, then stepped into the cool parking garage. Before the door was fully shut, he could just barely here Ms. Scalbury mutter something under her breath about what an idiot she was. She really shouldn’t be so hard on herself.
Like he was one to talk.
His footsteps echoed throughout the lot as he walked over to his car. Though he no longer had his old car, (it brought back too many bad memories) he had kept consistent by getting a very similar red sports car.
His new car had signs of wear that his old one never had. There was a scratch near the bumper from when Trucy was first learning how to drive. The backseat held an umbrella and a few spare gloves, none of which matched. Despite his best efforts, there were also crumbs present throughout the car that refused to go away. If it didn’t sound ridiculous, he would say that Phoenix snuck out in the middle of the night just to step on crackers in the front passenger seat.
Smiling softly at that mental image, Miles pulled out his keys. He pressed a button on his key fob, unlocking the doors and opening the trunk. He placed his briefcase into the trunk, careful to avoid knocking into some of Trucy’s props from last week’s show, and then shut the trunk door.
He walked around to the front door and opened it, sliding into the front seat. He shut the door behind him and put the key into the ignition.
He didn’t turn it. Not yet.
Despite what he had said to Ms. Scalbury back in the office, her comment had bothered him. It wasn’t because of what she had said, but what she had been talking about .
This was going to be the first December 28th he had spent with Phoenix since Miles was put on trial for murder.
Phoenix had always been present during this time of year in the past, but their relationship had been strained back then, to say the least. Miles had let Phoenix believe him to be dead for a year, and then Phoenix had been falsely disbarred. During those long years, Miles often found himself overseas for one reason or another. Even on the few years he had let Trucy convince him to stick around for the holidays, he had always made himself scarce once the actual day came around.
Last year was supposed to be the first year that Miles dealt with this with Phoenix. They had talked about this extensively, figured out what Miles would need to be comfortable, the whole nine yards.
Then there was an international crisis.
A serial killer travelling across Europe that the Interpol was having trouble tracking down. He was their last resort. Twenty-seven kills had already been confirmed.
At the time, he felt that he couldn’t put his own needs above the lives of dozens of people. He had survived December 28th in the past, and he could tough it alone for one more year.
With that, he had packed his bags, told Phoenix that he had to go, and hopped onto the first flight to Germany.
The nightmares had been especially bad that year, but the killer had been caught and put to justice. That was all that mattered, he had thought as he woke up crying for the tenth time in a single night.
When he got back home, he had realized that this wasn’t sustainable. Before he and Phoenix had gotten together, he didn’t even notice the loneliness he’d felt during previous years. Perhaps he didn’t have the words for it then, or perhaps it hadn’t existed at all.
Whether it was a new feeling or not, the sharp need to be held had been tearing him apart the entire trip. In his sleep, he had clutched at the sheets, the pillows - whatever the closest object to him was. He found it wasn’t at all comparable to a real person and had only made the void in his chest worse.
Being with Phoenix wasn’t going to magically make everything better. They both knew this. The nightmares still came a few times a night. Miles still woke up crying and messed up the sheets from tossing and turning. He still had dark circles under his eyes that he had taken to covering up with concealer.
What Phoenix did do was make the whole process more bearable. He watched some of the classic Steel Samurai episodes with Miles and didn’t make any comments about how Neo Olde Tokyo was historically inaccurate. He shook Miles awake if he was in the middle of a nightmare, and held him close and let him cry in his arms until both of them were fast asleep again. He boiled water for Miles’ tea and brewed it just the way he liked it, even though Phoenix normally hated tea and referred to it as “leaf water” in order to irritate him.
Despite all that Phoenix had done for him, doubt still lingered in Miles' mind.
This night was always the worst one by far. Between the dread of having another nightmare and the nightmares themselves, he often slept for less than three hours. Anyone who was with him at the time would be forcibly woken up, so Phoenix would have to comfort him while sleep-deprived at 4 in the morning.
It wasn't an ideal situation. Phoenix had already arranged for Trucy to stay in Kurain with Maya and Pearl for the week. If Trucy knew the real reason behind the extended sleepover, which she most likely did, she didn't say anything.
Miles had offered to sleep on the couch multiple times, (there was no way he was letting Phoenix sleep there - not with his back problems) but he had been shot down every time.
Their final conversation on the matter had been yesterday.
“Look, Phoenix, you don’t understand how bad it’s going to be. It would be selfish of me to force you to stay.”
“We’ve talked about this, Miles. You aren’t forcing me to do anything. I’m choosing to do this because I love and care about you.
“I love you too, but…”
“You’re thinking about running away somehow, aren’t you? No, wait, it’s okay. I’m not going to lecture you or get out the magatama or anything. I just want you to know that if you try to punish yourself in an attempt to ‘make everyone else happier’ or some bullshit like that, I will find you and I will make you sleep with me.”
“Phoenix, please watch your phrasing.”
“That’s what you’re objecting to? My phrasing, not any of the other parts?”
“Ngh. Though I loathe to admit it, your... analysis of my actions is quite accurate. I know I cannot offer much in the way of reassurance, but I promise that I won’t do anything that could be interpreted as ‘running away’”
“That’s all I needed to hear. I trust you, Miles. I know you won’t go back on your word.”
“For the record, I trust you too. If we’re making promises, promise me this. If you ever feel trapped, or you simply cannot deal with being around me, promise that you will say something.”
“You aren’t a burden to be around. Even when things get rough, I’m not going to abandon you because I’m a little tired.”
“Either way, promise me.”
“No.”
“Phoenix.”
“...You really aren’t going to let me go until I do this.”
“That is correct.”
“Fine. I promise that if being in your presence is ever too much for me - which it won’t be because you’re the light of my life and the only person who even comes close to beating Trucy for my favorite person - I will let you know. Are you happy now? ...Miles? You okay over there?”
“You really think of me that way?”
“Yes! Absolutely! God, you got me through one of the darkest portions of my life. Trucy did so much for me back then, but you- you were the one who gave me a shoulder to cry on. You were the one who kept me stable when everything I had ever known was crumbling down at my feet. And now, I just enjoy being around you so much, you have no idea. You remember that first time you called me asking if I wanted to get takeout for dinner? After the call ended, I spent a good half an hour feeling like I was walking on air and was still smiling when Apollo came back to the office to talk about a case. I kinda freaked him out - the case was going well, but not that well - but you get the point. When I say that I love you, I mean it.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how to respond to this, but I am grateful for all you have said.”
“A bit too sappy for you? Ah, well. I have it on good authority that you say some similar things about ‘that man,’ so I don’t think you have much ground to stand on.”
“Who informed you of that?!”
“Why, that would be one former associate of yours. Goes by the title of ‘the Great Thief, Yatagarasu?’ That ringing any bells?”
“That- She- What did she tell you?”
“Only things that you yourself have said. Along the lines of ‘that man who shines brilliantly in my memory’ or ‘that man who saved me when no others could’ or ‘that man who I am hopelessly in love with.’”
“Those are false accusations! First of all, what is that voice? I do NOT sound like a lovestruck British schoolgirl. Second of all, I have never uttered that final phrase in my entire life, and I never will! It’s highly embarrassing. My feelings for you never left me anything close to hopeless.”
“Wait, which phrase?”
“That man who I am hopelessly in love with! What other phrase would I be talking about… NO!”
“I got you! You said it! You previously stated that you will never say that phrase, but you just did. Given this evidence, I conclude that the defendant is guilty as charged, I say. Guilty!”
“Wright, are you or are you not supposed to be the defense attorney in this situation? I believe that by proving your point, you have proved your own client’s guilt for me.”
“Hush, you. This is MY court, and I can do whatever I like in it. So, as the judge, I declare you guilty of being hopelessly in love with me.”
“Oh, whatever shall I do. Phoenix Wright, my courtroom rival and romantic partner, now knows that I love him. This truly is the worst day of my life. It is all downhill from- NGHK! OW! What the hell?”
“There you go! That was a light, encouraging punch. You need to really FEEL the emotions you’re supposed to be portraying. Your delivery was way too flat.”
“How, pray tell, was that punch encouraging?”
“It was supposed to push you to new heights of emotional intensity. Did it work?”
“No, unless you wish me to constantly talk as if I am mildly infuriated with you.”
“You truly are a hopeless cause. This is why nobody ever told you to pursue acting.”
“I believe I was never told to pursue acting because I did not wish to do that in the first place.”
“A bold claim, for sure. Of course, I was born to be an actor. It was only because of my sudden change in career that I didn’t become the next big Broadway star.”
“Verily. Now, if you are such an accomplished actor, would you please demonstrate to me what I should be doing?”
“My pleasure. Let’s see, where did we leave off? Oh, right. My name is Miles Edgeworth, and I am hopelessly in love with Phoenix Wright. Whatever shall I do with these unnecessary feelings! If only he knew how I truly felt, but alas, he shall never know. Oh, how I long to tell him how wonderful he looks in that blue suit of his.”
“As I have told you multiple times, your suit is tacky.”
“You know you love it.”
“...No comment.”
“Come on, Miles. Give me something to work with!”
“Fine. Though your suit is quite a garish shade of blue, you look good in it.”
“Why, thank you. I’m going to go get dinner started. Any requests?”
“I’d like to request that I cook, as the last time I left you unsupervised in the kitchen you burned the spaghetti.”
“Excuse me! It’s not my fault cooking is difficult.”
“Boiling pasta is not difficult in the slightest. Here, if you want me to trust your abilities again, then come help me chop these carrots.”
Miles fiddled with the key, still holding onto it with his right hand. Phoenix knew what he was getting himself into, and he was okay with that. He trusted Miles not to fly out to Germany on a whim, so Miles would have to trust him to know his own boundaries.
Trust went both ways, he had come to understand.
He turned the key in the ignition, the car roaring to life. A helpful chime alerted him to the fact that he had neglected to buckle his seatbelt. He reached back with his left hand to do that, eyes glancing towards the clock on the central console of the car.
3:00. Maybe this week would be over sooner than he thought.
--
Thursday, December 27, 2029
23:12
The Wright-Edgeworth Apartment
“...the exciting conclusion to the definitive duel between the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate! Will the Steel Samurai be able to pull through? Will the Pink Princess get her powers back? Find out next time on Steel Samurai: Return of the Princess, Episode 106: ‘The Final Battle!’”
Miles was already disentangling himself from Phoenix's arms in an attempt to reach for the remote. Though the collector’s edition DVDs were by far the best way to watch the entire Steel Samurai series, they could be quite annoying at times. Some of them had all of the episodes listed in alphabetical order instead of chronologically. This particular batch didn’t have a way to automatically play the next episode, so you were forced to go all the way back to the main menu after every single episode.
It was features like this that let you know that Global Studios truly cared about the fans.
Just as he was about to start the next episode, Phoenix put a hand on his arm. Miles looked over, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.
"You told me this would be the last episode three episodes ago. I think it's about time we head to bed," Phoenix explained.
"But this next episode is the climax of the Pink Princess's entire character arc! When she's forced to save the Steel Samurai without her powers, she realizes that the only thing holding her back was her inferiority complex. It's a pivotal moment which is only enhanced by the masterful shot compositions. Besides, 11 o'clock isn't particularly late," Miles quickly tacked on to the end. He had gotten better about it, but he still felt a little self-conscious speaking so passionately about a children's show, of all things.
Phoenix sighed, collecting all of the dishes and Chinese takeout boxes left over from their six hour marathon. "11 isn't late to you , but it is late to most other people. Specifically me."
"It's only a single episode. Less than half an hour. It will hardly make a difference."
"Miiiilesssss." Phoenix shifted his full weight onto Miles’ back, one arm wrapped around him with the other balancing all of the dishes. He was smiling in that especially cute way of his, the one that was impossible to resist. It was quite obvious where Trucy got that particular talent of hers from.
This was entirely unfair, he thought, turning off the TV. “Fine. We can finish this up tomorrow, on one condition,” he said. “I’m doing the dishes.”
Phoenix pulled away, pouting. “No, you are not doing the dishes. There aren’t that many of them,” - he gestured to the plates currently in his hand - “and what you are doing is getting ready for bed.”
Though Miles loved Phoenix, he could be unreasonably stubborn at times. There was no way he was going to win this argument, at least not without compromising. He supposed he could live with that for tonight.
“In that case, we will both be doing the dishes together, and that is final.” With that, Miles got up from the couch, catching a fork before it completely slid off of one of the plates. Unsurprisingly, Phoenix’s disorganized nature in court directly translated to how much of a mess he was out of court. A competent mess, but a mess nonetheless.
Phoenix hummed in contentment, seemingly satisfied. The two of them made their way into the kitchen. Miles took the plates from Phoenix, rinsing them off and sticking them in the dishwasher while Phoenix put all of the leftovers in plastic containers.
This was more than Phoenix normally did, as his idea of helping was sitting on the countertop and talking Miles’ ear off. Tonight, however, a comfortable silence had fallen over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the kitchen sink and the clinking of glasses as they were placed next to each other.
Much of the afternoon had been like this. Phoenix had mostly treated it like any other day, which he was immensely grateful for. Things were already bad enough without everyone treating him like a child again. Throughout it all, though, there was a softness to be found in the most basic of actions that wasn’t normally present. It was the way Phoenix looked at him, his eyes shining. It was the way they had relaxed into each other, Phoenix’s warm body the only blanket Miles would ever need. It was held hands and small kindnesses and stupid jokes that weren’t funny to anyone but them. Everything Phoenix did screamed I love you and Miles thought he was going to melt to liquid gold from all the love he felt towards this silly, wonderful man.
The dishes were soon finished. Phoenix herded Miles off to bed, guiding him through the motions and showering him with affection every chance he got. Miles had previously expressed a sense of unease surrounding going to sleep, but it felt so much smaller compared to the peace he felt now.
This night was going to be horrible, but as long as Phoenix was with him the whole time, he would survive.
The two of them lay in bed, Miles safely snuggled up against Phoenix’s chest. Phoenix was softly snoring, already out cold. Miles listened to the rhythm of it, the way their breaths matched up in perfect sync.
For once in his life, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.
--
Friday, December 28, 20XX
XX:XX
The Elevator
Miles stood in the elevator with his father. He had been allowed to watch the trial today, and it had been intriguing, to say the least. The defendant had been declared guilty, but his father had exposed the prosecutor’s unscrupulous tactics. He had apparently tampered with some of the evidence, which had resulted in a penalty to his record.
Miles didn’t understand why these prosecutors cared so much about their record. It was not uncommon for people to be falsely accused of crimes, and if every single one of them was declared guilty, it meant that some people were being punished for crimes they didn’t even commit. If they were truly on the side of justice, why did people care if they won or lost a trial? As long as the truth was discovered, it didn’t matter who was right and who was wrong.
His father had told him that he would understand when he was older, but he was unsure if that would ever be true.
The ground rumbled beneath his feet, more pronounced than the usual descent of an elevator. The tremors intensified, and Miles was thrown to the floor. A quick glance told him that his father and the bailiff, who he had barely noticed before, had suffered similar fates.
He had lived in Japanifornia long enough to recognize the signs of an earthquake immediately. There had been one at school a few years ago. It wasn’t particularly strong, but the students had still gotten the rest of the day off.
This earthquake was much stronger, a fact which was only amplified by their location. The elevator’s emergency brakes had already locked into place, but it was still shaking an alarming amount.
The lights flickered, then turned completely off. The elevator’s occupants were plunged into the pitch dark. The only illumination came from a flickering red button with a bell on it, presumably the call for help button.
The earthquake slowly died down. Nobody moved for a long time, too shocked to process the events that had just unfolded.
Miles’ father eventually called the front desk using the help button. He explained that they were trapped in the elevator and they had no way of contacting the outside world, as he didn’t have a cell phone and the bailiff’s phone was dead. They were told that it would take a few hours for an elevator technician to come and unlock the elevator. The ventilation system in the elevator had also broken down, so they would have to sit still to conserve their oxygen.
With that, the wait began.
This was always the worst part, Miles figured. Some part of his brain had recognized the patterns of his nightmare, but was not yet conscious enough to fight it. He sat for what felt like an eternity, taking shallow breaths while the dread of what came next settled upon him.
At approximately 7, the bailiff finally snapped. He leaped onto Miles’ father, screaming that he was “stealing all my air!” Miles saw the gun. He threw it. Someone screamed. He didn’t wake up.
This was new.
He saw the lights turn back on. The doors opened, and in stepped von Karma. His hand was held over his shoulder, blood soaking through to his suit. He wore an expression that would have sent even the bravest of defense attorneys running in fear.
Miles tried to scramble further into the corner, but his body refused to move. Von Karma paid him no mind, instead bending over to pick up the gun from where Miles had thrown it. Miles was finally able to tear his gaze away from von Karma, looking over to where his father and the bailiff were lying on the ground.
Except his father didn’t wear a blue suit.
The gears in his mind struggled to process these new details. This mystery person had spiky hair, though it had been messed up in the fight with the bailiff. There was a bruise that was already beginning to form along the side of his jaw. His eyes fluttered open, only half-aware of what was going on.
A single word escaped his mouth. It was hushed, barely there, a breathless, “Miles?” that caused von Karma to jump in surprise. He moved the gun to his left hand, finger resting on the trigger. It was pointed at the mystery person. Phoenix.
He was going to kill Phoenix. Oh god, he was going to kill Phoenix here and now and there was nothing Miles could do to stop it. He strained his body against whatever invisible barrier was holding it down to no avail.
A stream of words made its way out of his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying, but it was along the lines of, “No, don’t hurt him, no, Phoenix, Phoenix please, please, no, stop, NO-”
A single gunshot rang out. Phoenix looked at him, a silent how could you do this? written all over his face. Miles wanted to apologize, wanted to run to him and miraculously cure him and hold onto him for the rest of his life, but von Karma was still standing in the middle of the elevator.
He finally noticed Miles, turning to face him. He shook his head and waggled his finger, like Miles had just gotten a 99 on a test instead of a perfect 100. Miles’ hands were clammy and sweaty. He was aware that he could move now, though only because his body was violently shaking. He felt all too hot and freezing cold at the same time.
“These pointless human connections have made you weak, boy. I have taken care to eliminate one of them, in order to help you become perfect. I expect you to deal with the rest of them yourself. Do I make myself clear?” von Karma asked. His face contorted itself into a grin, inhuman and hideous in nature.
Miles nodded, more on reflex than from any sort of understanding. His throat was too dry, his breaths coming quicker and quicker. Shouldn’t he be having less trouble breathing, now that the elevator doors were open? He was dimly aware of something wet rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the floor. Were those his own tears?
Von Karma strode confidently out of the elevator. Without looking back, his issued one final command. “Get rid of the body.”
The terror of being in von Karma’s presence left Miles’ body and was replaced by the terror of seeing Phoenix lying on the ground. He was still conscious. The blood from the wound was staining his suit, the blue turning an ugly purple-brown. The bailiff was nowhere to be found, but he didn't stop to question it.
Miles scrambled over to sit by him. He tore off his cravat, shoving it up against the wound in an attempt to keep Phoenix from losing even more blood. The shot had been at point-blank range, so the chance of survival was very slim, but with proper first aid and emergency response he might come out of this alive.
“Phoenix, listen to me,” Miles said, putting pressure on the wound like he had been taught. He pulled out his phone (since when did he have a phone?) and tried to call 911. No service.
“Phoenix, I love you so much, you’re doing great, please just hang in there for me,” he babbled, not even thinking about what he was saying. He couldn’t think about anything, really. Not now.
“Please, I can’t lose you. I know our relationship has been rocky over the years, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t know how I could go on without you. I don’t know if I could.” He was sobbing at this point. He was barely able to push the words out of his throat over all of the tears, but he had to say them. If Phoenix was going to die, Miles needed to tell him everything before it was too late. There were so many things he had never even mentioned, how he adored Phoenix’s penchant for eating cereals meant more for children than adults, how hard it was to stay irritated at Phoenix for being a walking disaster zone when he always flashed that sheepish grin of his, how-
“Shh, Miles. Miles, it’s okay.” Phoenix murmured. Though quiet, his voice was much too strong for someone bleeding out on the floor. He had bled through both his suit and Miles’ cravat. There was blood on Miles’ hands now, warm and sticky. Miles threw off his coat and shoved it up against the wound, applying pressure once more.
“Miles, I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you. Miles.” Phoenix kept muttering quiet reassurances, but all Miles could think of was the blood. The blood everywhere on the elevator, all over Phoenix’s clothes and Miles’ sleeves and on his hands.
There was blood on his hands. It was his fault Phoenix was dying. His fault. The blood was on his hands and it was all his fault because he had foolishly thought he could get close to someone without hurting them.
He should have known better, shouldn’t have let Phoenix lull him into a false sense of security, should have done a thousand things differently but he hadn’t. He had abandoned all that von Karma had ever taught him, all that life had ever taught him, and gotten involved in something complicated and imperfect and messy. If only he had pushed Phoenix away, stayed cold and calculating instead of opening up and causing trouble for everyone around him.
He hadn’t, and Phoenix was dying and the blood was on his hands.
The blood kept coming. It was spilling out of the wound at an alarming rate, covering the floor completely and filling up the room. The elevator doors had closed and now Miles was trapped with the rising pool of blood. It was lapping at his knees, then halfway up his chest and then right below his mouth.
He pushed Phoenix up against the wall, keeping pressure on the wound with one hand and his head above the blood with the other. The pressure didn’t seem to be helping at all, but if he stopped Phoenix would surely die, so he didn’t.
He tried to reach the control panel, hoping to open the doors, but it was too far away. The floor was slippery, so he probably wouldn't be able to stand. He tried. He pushed down with his feet, scrambling for a hold, but the ground disappeared beneath his feet in the endless pool of blood. Phoenix started to slip under, and Miles was forced to give up on moving and instead focus on keeping them alive.
He had taken swimming lessons as a kid, but treading water in a calm, shallow pool was much easier than treading water in formal clothes while holding an almost-dead body. Phoenix was dead weight - a term more literal than he had previously thought - and was dragging the two of them down into the depths.
Miles fought harder and harder to keep the two of them breathing, but he was tired. He couldn’t keep doing this forever. Von Karma’s voice echoed through his mind. “Get rid of the body, you foolish boy. That defense attorney is weighing you down. Let go of him, idiot!”
Still, Miles held on. Von Karma had made a fatal mistake in underestimating the sheer amount of spite Miles held for him. His limbs were numb with pain and exhaustion. That didn’t matter to him anymore. All that mattered was keeping Phoenix alive and safe, even if it meant that Miles suffered for it.
Phoenix had been speaking all this time, though Miles had long since tuned it out. A few words made their way to his ears now, much louder and panicked in tone. “PLEASE, Miles… you HAVE to wake up… MILES!” He sounded far away, his words fading in and out, but always present.
His legs couldn’t take much more of this. Darkness was closing in at the edge of his vision. His throat was hoarse and raw from screaming Phoenix’s name and gasping for breath. He made one last push, one last attempt to get out, before succumbing to his fatigue.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He held on tight to Phoenix, who was somehow still alive through all of this, and let his weight pull him downwards. Blood filled his mouth, suffocating him and silencing the words on the tip of his tongue.
He inhaled one last time before his nose went under, followed by his eyes and the rest of his head. The blood was hot, too hot, boiling. He could do nothing about it, only try and bear it until he ran out of oxygen and died. He didn’t fear his own death at this point, as long as Phoenix wouldn’t be left behind.
Suddenly, something cold and wet hit his face.
--
Friday, December 28, 2029
01:04
The Wright-Edgeworth Apartment
Miles jolted upright, eyes wide open. His face and hair were soaked, and he was fairly certain he was crying.
His surroundings were unfamiliar at first. He was in a bed, one large enough to fit two people comfortably. All of the sheets had been shoved to the foot of the bed, though one was still half-covering his legs. There was a bedside table next to him with a book, a pair of glasses, and a lamp on it. The lamp was turned on, illuminating the scene before him.
A man - no, Phoenix , that was Phoenix - was sitting on the bed. One hand was resting on Miles’ shoulder, the other hand holding an empty cup. His mouth was moving, but Miles couldn’t make out what he was saying just yet. Phoenix sounded worried, but Miles wasn’t sure why.
There wasn’t any reason for him to be worried, was there? Nobody appeared to have broken in. Neither of them were working on any big cases at the moment, so it was unlikely that Phoenix was concerned about a new development of some sort. There must be something he was forgetting, something that would cause everything to make sense.
Suddenly, it clicked. The elevator. Von Karma. The gunshot. The blood.
Phoenix.
Miles looked at his hands, checking for any specks of blood. There was nothing. Phoenix was right in front of him, wearing an old t-shirt that was remarkably spotless, given his tendency to spill various liquids every five seconds. No blood. He was alive. Miles hadn’t gotten him killed.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was throwing himself into Phoenix’s arms.
He was sobbing awfully loud, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the undignified action. Phoenix yelped, seeming to have been cut off in the middle of a sentence. He regained his composure quickly, however, setting down the cup he was holding and adjusting his position to make things more comfortable for both of them.
He cried until he ran out of tears. Phoenix was clearly confused - when Miles had had nightmares before, they had never been this intense - but he was comforting nonetheless. Miles eventually pulled himself away, sniffling.
"...What happened in your nightmare?" Phoenix asked after a moment. Miles’ shoulders tensed up and he fought to relax them once again. There was absolutely no reason for him to feel anxious or afraid anymore. The danger had passed. It wasn’t even real in the first place. He was here, with Phoenix. Nothing bad was going to happen. Slowly, he calmed down.
Phoenix had continued to speak. "I know you might not be comfortable talking about it, and I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to, but it looked bad. Really bad. Like, even worse than you said it would be." He took one of Miles’ hands in his own, smiling self-consciously. “Are you okay?”
Miles thought about the question before answering. He wasn’t in perfect condition. He was still shaken from the nightmare and his throat hurt, but he wasn’t terrible either. “I’m unsure,” he finally said, “but I believe I will feel better if I tell you about it.”
He shifted his weight back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Though he wanted to talk to Phoenix, looking directly at him would have been too much pressure. Phoenix was an emotional person by nature, and having to watch him react to everything he said would be… not ideal.
"You said that this was worse than I said it would be. That would be because it was worse. My nightmare has been the same since the incident. Even though it was unpleasant, there was still a small amount of comfort to be found in its repetitive nature. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, I suppose." He let out a small sigh. "It was different this time."
"Different how?" Miles felt the mattress move underneath him. He spared a quick glance to his left, and sure enough, Phoenix had moved to lie down next to him. He was also looking at the ceiling. Their hands were still linked.
"I was in the elevator, but I didn't pass out. I watched von Karma come in and pick up the gun and then you were there instead of my father and- and…" He couldn’t bring himself to continue. The words were there, but they refused to leave his mouth.
Phoenix finished for him. "He shot me and left me dying in your arms." Miles didn't say anything, but the tears in his eyes were apparently confirmation enough. "Oh, Miles…" Phoenix pulled him into a tight embrace, Miles’ head resting against his chest.
Now that Phoenix had said the worst part for him, the rest of his explanation seemed to spill out of his mouth. “I was all alone. My phone didn’t work, and you kept saying that it was okay even when it clearly was not. There was so much blood, Phoenix. It filled the room, and then I had to keep both of us above water, and th- and then I was drowning,” he finished.
Phoenix brought his hands up to Miles’ back, slowly rubbing circles into it just under his shoulder blades. There was much murmuring of “Shh, it’s okay,” and “I’m here.” Miles didn’t catch most of it, but it was still reassuring.
Between the nightmare and his earlier breakdown, most of the water in his system was already gone. His face was somehow still wet, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that. Not yet.
“Phoenix,” he murmured, “please don’t leave me here. I know I made you promise earlier, but I don’t know what I would do without you.”
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere." Phoenix pulled him closer, and they lay there like that for a while.
Miles eventually sat up, drying his eyes with a tissue Phoenix handed to him. His hand brushed against his hair, splattering small water droplets along the back of his wrist. Right. That. “Phoenix, why am I soaking wet?"
Phoenix sat up as well, running his fingers through his hair. It was a nervous habit from court that he still hadn’t managed to shake. “Well, uh, you wouldn’t wake up.”
“I don't see how that counts as an explanation."
“I was getting to that bit. Sheesh. As I was saying, I woke up about 10 minutes before I could wake you up. I tried gently shaking you awake and talking to you, but you weren’t responding. I got really scared, Miles. I was screaming in your ear at some point, but you just refused to wake up. So I did the only thing I could think of.”
“You dumped a glass of cold water on me,” Miles glared at Phoenix, though he wasn’t really all that angry. The effect he was hoping to achieve was ruined by his traitorously runny nose, which he wiped on the tissue that was still in his hands.
Phoenix’s hands flew up in the air in a ‘don’t shoot me’ pose. “I didn’t know what to do! My mind went totally blank. I vaguely remembered people being woken up with cold water in movies, so I went with that. I mean, it worked, so that’s all that really matters, right?”
Maybe it was the intense emotional stress of the past twenty minutes or so, or maybe it was the exhaustion. Whatever the reason was, Miles burst out laughing. “You dumped a glass of water on me because it worked in the MOVIES?”
Phoenix broke as well, collapsing onto the bed in a fit of giggles. He picked up the cup from where it was lying on the bed and half-heartedly threw it at Miles. It bounced off of him harmlessly, causing the two of them to laugh even harder. It took several seconds for them to calm down again.
This was quite abnormal for Miles, but he figured that these late hours were strange enough to justify it.
"Phoenix, you are an utterly ridiculous fool of a man," Miles said.
"But you love me." Phoenix ruffled Miles’ hair and kissed him on the cheek.
"That I do." His voice cracked at the end, his throat screaming at him to drink something, goddamnit.
“I hate to ruin the moment,” Miles said, “but I find myself in dire need of some water and a towel.”
“Oh. Yes. Right.” Phoenix stood up and clapped his hands together, scanning the room for the fallen cup. With a small “Aha!”, he bent over and picked it up from the floor, where it must have rolled after Phoenix threw it at him. Phoenix turned around and presented it to Miles.
Miles gently pushed it back towards Phoenix’s chest. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I would prefer to drink out of something that has not been on our floor. Perhaps with some water in it.” Miles moved to get up and get his own water, but Phoenix sat him back down on the bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Phoenix, I am perfectly capable of getting myself a glass of water and a towel. Would you please refrain from blocking my path any longer?”
Phoenix pouted, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who just had a bad dream. That means that it is my job to be the doting boyfriend who attends to your every need. It’s very simple.” Miles rolled his eyes.
“Fine. If you insist on doing this for me, please be quick about it.” Phoenix rushed out of the room, pausing at the doorway to snap and shoot a finger gun at Miles. “Additionally, please do not give me the cup from the floor.”
“I would never!” Phoenix shouted from the bathroom. “The floor cup is for both of us. In case I can’t wake you up again.” His footsteps led from the bathroom to the kitchen. Miles heard the sound of the cabinet being opened and then the loud clack of a cup hitting the ground.
Phoenix was sure to wake the neighbors, if they weren’t awake already. They weren’t particularly pleasant people. A small, spiteful part of Miles’ brain hoped that they had been woken and were quite displeased with it. The much larger, more logical part of his brain chose not to contribute to the discussion.
Phoenix soon returned with two cups of water and a towel. Miles gratefully took one of the cups, barely able to restrain himself from downing all of it in one go. Drinking too fast tended to make one more dehydrated, so he made efforts to pace himself accordingly.
Phoenix shoved a precarious stack of books on his nightstand off to one side, setting the other cup down dangerously close to the edge. Miles opened the drawer of his own nightstand and retrieved a coaster. He placed it on his nightstand and set his cup down on that. The two of them had long since given up on compromising on small things like this and instead learned to live with the other’s poor choices.
Phoenix handed him the towel. Miles roughly dried his hair off, messing up his bangs in the process. He attempted to coerce them back into place, but it was a hopeless cause without a comb. As he wasn’t about to style his hair just to ruin it by falling asleep, he stopped fussing with it and turned his attention to the bed.
While most of the water had landed on his face, a fair amount of it was still splattered across his pillow. He carefully patted it down until it was merely damp, then folded the towel up and placed it to the side. Given his night so far, it was likely he would have need of it again.
That was not a thought he particularly wished to dwell on. Falling asleep after a nightmare was always difficult for him. He often kept a countdown of how many more nightmares he was likely to have left for the night. He had estimated a total of four to five for tonight, though his predictions had been wrong before.
That still left at least three more times that he would have to watch Phoenix die.
Phoenix climbed into bed next to him. He reached out to turn off the lights, but his hand hovered next to the switch. “Miles, do you think you’ll be okay going back to sleep now?” he asked.
Miles thought of the warmth that filled his chest when he was around Phoenix, the sense of security he gained from being in his presence. Nothing either of them did would help him more than that. He was nervous, but just as he had been a few hours ago, he was prepared to handle it. Even if it was more than he had bargained for.
“I suppose I am as ready as I shall ever be,” Miles said. With that, Phoenix flicked the light switch off. The room was plunged into darkness, similar to that day in the elevator. Against all reason, his breath caught in his throat and his heart began to race. Were the walls closing in on him?
Then Phoenix laid a hand on his arm, and their bedroom became a bedroom once again. Miles folded into the touch. He curled up in Phoenix’s arms, letting the warmth envelop and ground him.
Sleep did not come swiftly, nor did it come easily, but it did come, and that was all he could ask for.
--
Friday, December 28, 2029
11:37
Westwood Florists
A chime on the door announced Phoenix and Miles' presence. The shop was small and quaint. Rows of tables were set up on the shop floor, displaying pre-made bouquets and samples of the available flowers. Light cream walls balanced out the rainbow of colors set before them. A counter was situated at the back of the store, with a door behind it that presumably led to the back room.
At the counter stood an elderly woman with dark skin. She had a motherly air about her, her white hair tied back in a neat bun. On her head sat a flower crown made primarily of violets and lavender, though there were more pink and purple flowers that Miles couldn’t identify. She wore a yellow apron with the words “Westwood Florists” on it. Her name tag identified her as Flora.
“Good morning!” Flora called out. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Her voice was full of undiluted cheer and energy. It was entirely too early in the morning for this, Miles thought.
Last night had been awful. After going back to sleep, he’d had an additional four nightmares, all of which were in the same vein as the first. Trucy had even made a guest appearance in some of them, crying hysterically while being dragged off by von Karma.
To top it all off, he had been awakened by a cup of water to the face every single time. He resigned himself to his fate after the second incident. These things worked in patterns, he had found.
He and Phoenix were currently sporting matching sets of dark circles under their eyes. Though Phoenix tried not to show it, Miles could tell he was almost as exhausted as Miles was by the whole ordeal. He had poured coffee into his Lucky Charms not once, but twice , so it wasn’t exactly subtle.
Still, Miles wanted to bring flowers to his father’s grave, so here they were. Attempting to stay alert for the entirety of this encounter.
“We’re just looking to get a small custom bouquet,” said Miles. He gazed out at the endless sea of flowers, amazed by the sheer amount of options. It would have been overwhelming, had he not planned everything out beforehand.
Flora made her way out from behind the counter. “In that case, do you know what flowers you want in it, dearie?”
“Sunflowers and chrysanthemums. White chrysanthemums, preferably.” Flora nodded, grabbing some flowers before walking to the back room. She left the door open, allowing Phoenix and Miles to watch as she put the bouquet together.
Phoenix leaned over and whispered in Miles’ ear, “How come I don’t get to call you dearie?”
Miles pushed Phoenix away with one hand and stepped to the side. “Do be quiet, Phoenix.” Phoenix just laughed, resuming his position at Miles’ side.
A shout from Flora startled them both. “I’m going to need some greenery to fill this bouquet out with. Any requests?”
“Rosemary, please,” Miles said. Flora hurried to some other part of the back room out of Miles’ sight, presumably to get the rosemary.
“That’s for remembrance, right? Rosemary?” Phoenix said.
Miles raised his eyebrows. “It is. How did you know that?”
“I was in a production of Hamlet in high school. There was a line about rosemary being for remembrance somewhere in there. I don’t know why it’s stuck in my mind for so long. I wasn’t even in that scene, for crying out loud.”
Miles smiled softly. “You have a certain talent for remembering seemingly irrelevant information.”
“Do I now, darling ?” Miles looked over at Phoenix, and oh, that was definitely on purpose. Phoenix’s grin was nothing short of shit-eating, as the man himself would say. That was the look of an unashamedly guilty man.
Miles wasn’t going to give in that easily.
“That is what I said, Wright.” He turned his attention back to Flora, who had come back into view. She was bundling the flowers and herbs together. Her speed and precision was genuinely fascinating to him. It must have taken decades of practice to reach this level of comfort with her work, given the ease with which she arranged the flowers. It was mesmerizing to watch, which made it that much easier to ignore Phoenix’s increasingly ridiculous pet names.
“Hello? Honey? Sweetheart? Are you listening to me, my smiles-y Miles-y?”
Miles flinched as if he had been punched in the gut. It was an instinctual reaction, because really, “Smiles-y? Me, smiles-y?? Please, that isn’t even a word, disregarding its inaccuracy when used in reference to myself."
“I’d say it’s pretty accurate. Look, you’re smiling right now!” Curses, he was right! Admittedly, he preferred to think of it as a self-satisfied smirk, but it was close enough to cause issues with his argument. He wiped his face clean of expression, focusing very hard on a small succulent next to the cash register as opposed to Phoenix’s chuckling in the background.
“I am doing no such thing,” he said carefully. “Besides, ‘smiles-y’ still isn’t a word. My current expression has no bearing on that fact.”
Phoenix slammed a hand down on the counter, prompting Flora to glare at them. “Sorry!” he yelled, before continued in a quieter voice. “You have no way to prove that ‘smiles-y’ isn’t a word, unless you have a dictionary with you right now, which I highly doubt.”
Miles shook his head slightly. “I do not have a dictionary on me at the moment, but I have no need for one anyways. You’ve already proven my point yourself.”
Phoenix mouthed something under his breath, counting on his fingers. He appeared to be mentally reviewing his previous statements, looking for the contradiction in his argument. After a moment, he said, “No. I didn’t say anything like that just now. What are you talking about?”
“Correct. You didn’t say anything to that effect just now. However, around seven or eight years ago-”
“ WHAT?! ”
“Around seven or eight years ago,” Miles continued, “I was in the area and you invited me to come play Scrabble with you and Trucy. She attempted to play the word ‘smiles-y,’ and you challenged her. We looked the word up and found that ‘smiles-y’ was, as you had stated, not a word. Ergo, by your own admission, ‘smiles-y’ is not a word.”
Phoenix was staring at him. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally managed to stammer out, “Wha- Why do you remember that? How do you remember that? I- You win.”
“Thank you.” Miles gave a small bow. It was ridiculous of him to do such a thing in public, but his brain was running on about two hours of low-quality sleep. He felt he deserved a pass.
Phoenix returned his bow. "You are very welcome. But seriously, how do you still remember that? And in such vivid detail?"
"I try to remember things that are important to me," he answered simply. "The time I spend with you and Trucy has fallen into that category for quite a while now."
"Awww, that's so sweet." Phoenix took Miles' hand in his, intertwining their fingers underneath the counter. From any other person, those words would have sounded sarcastic or fake, but the look in Phoenix's eyes assured him that he was genuine.
The moment was abruptly broken by Flora placing the bouquet down on top of the counter. Miles slipped his hand out of Phoenix's grasp and returned it to his side, stepping slightly away from Phoenix as he did so. He was better with public displays of affection than he used to be, but he still felt self-conscious the second they were anywhere near a stranger. He'd been pushing himself out of his comfort zone more and more recently - Phoenix deserved it, really - but today was not the optimal day to push his boundaries even further.
"That'll be 48.37," said Flora. Miles took out his credit card and passed it to Flora, who dealt with the rest of the transaction. She returned his card, which he then placed in his pocket.
Phoenix grabbed the bouquet, and with a "Have a good day, ma'am!" they were out the door.
The air outside held a slight chill that the biting wind only exacerbated. Phoenix shivered, his fingers already turning red from the cold.
"I can take the flowers," Miles offered. Phoenix gave the flowers to Miles, then shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
He hadn’t had a chance to admire the fully completed bouquet, given how quickly they had run out of the store. At the center of the arrangement were the sunflowers, which were surrounded by the chrysanthemums. Rosemary sprigs poked out from various parts of the bouquet, giving it an interconnected feeling. It was all tied together with a wide red ribbon.
The cemetery was nearby, so they had originally planned to walk there from the flower shop. However, neither Miles nor Phoenix had made any move to start walking yet.
“You still okay with going to the cemetery today?” Phoenix asked. “You don’t need to do this if it’s going to be too painful. We can always visit it another time.”
Miles’ grip on the bouquet tightened slightly. Running away from his problems was a very tempting option, as usual. Despite this, he felt a much stronger need to go visit his father’s grave. It was something of an obligation to himself, not to anyone else, and he needed to see it through.
“I assure you, I am quite alright. Now, shall we be on our way?” Miles said. Phoenix nodded.
The two of them walked down the street side by side in comfortable silence. Every so often, Phoenix would step closer to Miles and brush the backs of the hands together as a silent reminder of I’m still here with you. Miles found it quite grounding.
They arrived at the cemetery all too quickly and not soon enough at the same time. An iron gate with the words Pine Hill Cemetery loomed above them. A gravel path led to rows upon rows of headstones, all laid out in neatly spaced columns. A few people dotted the landscape, though most were alone.
The reality of what Miles was about to do set in. Leaving flowers for his father shouldn't have been such a big deal, wasn't such a big deal, but it still felt like a lot.
First times were difficult things, and he had faced quite a few of them recently, big and small. First time falling asleep next to someone. First time being called "Papa." First time having a different nightmare.
That was the issue with firsts. You never knew if they were good or bad, only that they were new.
His father used to say that life was a series of patterns. Everything you did either followed an existing pattern or created an entirely new one. When you did something for the first time, you made a new pattern and broke an old one. If you started brushing your teeth twice a day, for example, then you formed that new habit and broke your old habit of not brushing your teeth.
There were some firsts, some new patterns, that Miles was sure he would cherish forever. His first time making dinner with Phoenix and Trucy had been an absolute disaster, (what the two of them had eaten before he joined the picture was a mystery he preferred to leave unsolved) but it was the start of something great. That first had led to failed cooking lessons, surprise birthday cakes baking in the oven, and late night water fights while doing dishes.
His most recent first, the nightmare, had been much less desirable. There was little to be done about it. A pattern had presented itself. His previous streak of identical nightmares had been broken. Things had changed, for better or for worse, and all he could do with it was learn to cope.
Stepping through the gate and into the cemetery would be one more first, in more ways than one. It was his first time doing this specific action on this specific day. It was his first time coming here and being this emotionally vulnerable with Phoenix.
It may have been the first time he actively disobeyed his gut reaction to run away of his own volition.
There had been no outside factors that had forced him into this situation. He had been gently guided by Phoenix down this path, but there had always been the option to turn back. He hadn’t.
God, he was so tired of running away from everything that happened to him, good or bad. He was so tired of feeling like he was only half present in his own life. He was so tired of convincing himself that it all was temporary, that it would disappear soon and he shouldn’t get attached.
Frankly, he was fed up with it all.
If this was going to be a new first, the start of a new pattern, he would be glad. Running away from his problems had offered little relief in the short-term and caused major damage in the long-term. He had too much to do to go back to his old ways. There were so many firsts left for him to discover, so many new memories to forge.
So Miles took Phoenix’s hand and stepped through the gate. Their hands were separate once again only moments later, so quickly any passerby would have sworn it was a brief trick of the light. Still, one more pattern was made and one more pattern was broken.
If he was going to do this, he might as well go all the way.
--
Friday, December 28, 2029
12:02
Pine Hills Cemetery
His father's grave was tucked in the shadow of an old maple tree. Perhaps this was odd, considering the name of the cemetery, but as the area was entirely flat, it seemed that whoever had first built the place cared very little about naming it accurately. It was a shame so many in the field of justice were forever buried in a place so fundamentally misleading.
The bouquet was resting on the ground in front of his father’s headstone. A few petals had fallen already. The pop of color looked strange against the grass, whose colors had dulled from the dry Japanifornian winter.
“Sometimes I wonder if he would be proud of me, if he could see me now,” Miles said. Phoenix said nothing, instead letting Miles speak uninterrupted.
“I have made a number of mistakes in my lifetime,” he continued, “many of which are not minor in the slightest. I have changed greatly from the person I used to be. I am unsure of whether he would recognize me as the young child he once knew.”
“I think he would recognize you,” Phoenix said. “You’ve changed a lot, mostly for the better, but you haven’t become an entirely new person. You’re still you, you know?”
Miles sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I find myself questioning if that’s good enough. If I’m good enough, I should say.”
“I think your father would be proud of you no matter what you did, really. And don’t give me that look, that ‘ you’re not allowed to compliment me because you’re biased’ look. Trucy could do just about anything and I’d still support her.”
“I shall have to take your word for it. She did get accused of murder, after all.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” The two of them stood in silence for a minute, staring at the headstone in front of them.
Here lies Gregory Edgeworth
September 19, 1966 - December 28, 2001
Loving father and relentless defender of the innocent
May his soul rest in peace.
“I’m ready to go,” said Miles, rereading the headstone one last time before turning around. There wasn’t much more for him to do here, and being out in the open was starting to make him anxious. If there was an earthquake today…
“Alright,” said Phoenix. He started walking, Miles by his side. “Do you wanna stop somewhere to get lunch, or should we just go straight home?”
“Truthfully, I would rather we just go home. We have leftovers that need to be eaten anyways, so I suppose it all works out.” They passed the iron gate and turned towards the street the car was parked on.
“I guess it does. Feels like fortune is smiling down on us, giving us such good luck.” They crossed the street. Miles pulled out his key fob and unlocked the car doors as they approached.
“I don’t think having leftovers qualifies as good luck. It’s more of a slight convenience than anything else.” They got into the car. It felt much warmer in there, which was probably due to the lack of wind. It really had been quite cold outside, though he loathed to admit it.
“I’ll take what I can get. If we call it good luck, we might attract more. God knows I need it - you and me both. We just have to get the ball rolling. Start a pattern. Something like that.”
A pattern. That would be quite nice, wouldn’t it?