Archive of Our Own

If, at the start of freshman year, Miles had been asked where he saw himself by the end of summer, he would not in a thousand years have guessed that he would be here, in the middle of a staircase, wrestling a secondhand couch into an apartment that he would soon be sharing with his two childhood friends.

“I cannot. Believe,” Miles said, punctuated by grunts as they maneuvered around the corner, “that Larry is the only reason we have an apartment at all.” It was probably the fifth time he’d said so today, and wouldn’t be the last until he’d finally grasped that this was the world he was living in now. Which, at the rate he was going, would take at least another month to fully accept.

“You’d better...start believing it,” came Phoenix’s gasping reply from the opposite end of the couch. They gave it one final heft through the door and gratefully dropped it somewhere off to the side to be dealt with later. 

“I wouldn’t be having such trouble if you had even thought about looking for an apartment before June.”

“Apartment hunting is hard! How was I supposed to know that you need connections, apparently?” 

It turned out that trying to search for an apartment near campus in the last month of the school year had been a fatal oversight. By then all of the reasonably priced complexes were full, leaving Phoenix and Miles scrambling for a place to live for the next school year. Luckily, Larry had met some random girl in one of his classes who offered him her spare room at a place only a fifteen minute bike ride from campus. Within a week of Larry signing the lease, she abruptly decided to take a year-long study abroad opportunity and left him with a broken heart and an apartment in sudden need of another roommate or two. It was perfect, it was opportune, and Miles knew he would absolutely regret it.

“Besides…” Phoenix gently poked him in the side and trailed his hand down to entwine with Miles’. “If I left it up to you, we’d probably be living in your office.” His boyfriend shot him a mockingly accusatory look.

Boyfriend. That was another thing Miles wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He glanced down at their hands and prepared to remind Phoenix that the office had never been his first choice to begin with.

“Ahhh, it’s just like old times,” Larry sniffed, coming up behind them and slinging his arm around their shoulders. “The three Signalitos, striking out on our own!”

“It was ‘Signalites’, not ‘Signalitos’,” said Miles, more out of force of habit than any real desire to correct Larry. He had long since moved on to bigger and better shows, anyway.

“Ugh, whatever Edgey!” Larry stuck his tongue out at him. “Now are you guys gonna help me put together some furniture or what?”

The living room was a mess of half-emptied boxes and dissected furniture pieces. Larry plopped onto the floor in the middle of it all and spread out a set of instructions. 

“These are for your desks,” he said. “See, I already started mine.” He pointed to a structure that resembled a block puzzle moreso than a desk. 

“And is it supposed to be so…” Miles squinted at the diagram of what a fully assembled desk should look like. “Asymmetrical?”

Larry snatched the instructions from him and glanced between the paper and his creation. “Yeah, probably!” he shrugged.

After about half an hour of struggling to parse the diagrams and only barely starting on step 3, Miles was beginning to see how Larry ended up with that result. Of the three of them, Phoenix was the only one to have somehow managed to decipher the diagrams and was already finishing up with the final touches.

“I don’t see why they didn’t print any actual instructions,” Miles muttered, glowering at what looked to be a depiction of one of the mid-sized cross-screws connecting pieces F and G together. He was almost certain he held the right screw in his hand now, but the set came with at least seven different types of screws and it was difficult to determine which was which from the basic drawings.

“Here, let me help,” Phoenix said.

“I can do it myself,” Miles protested, but Phoenix tugged the instructions out of his hands and began rearranging a few of the pieces.

“Aw man, speaking of the good old days,” Larry said, “remember how Edgey couldn’t fold a paper crane?”

“Wh-What?” Miles spluttered, while Phoenix burst into laughter. 

“Oh yeah,” his traitorous boyfriend said, smirking from around Miles’ half-completed desk. “You kept unfolding mine and couldn’t figure out how to put it back together.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this!”

“Just admit it, art’s never been your thing Edgey!” said Larry.

“It’s not art that I have a problem with,” Miles argued, “it’s instructions that don’t explain what it is that you’re supposed to be doing during each step! And I’ll have you know I can fold a quarter-inch crane perfectly now.” And to prove it, he snatched the instructions from Phoenix and began tearing it into a set of perfect squares.

“Hey!” Phoenix cried. “That’s for your desk, you know!”

“These instructions were worthless anyway,” he replied with vindictive satisfaction.

After some additional finagling that took twice as long as it should have, he and Phoenix both had desks that could mostly be considered functional. Larry finally declared his abomination to be “art” and called it a day. All of the heavy furniture had been moved; all of the flimsy furniture had been assembled; and everything else could be sorted into cabinets and closets over the course of the week. They celebrated their first night in the apartment with a feast of freshly delivered pizza and garlic knots - “On the house!” as Larry put it, which was to say Miles’ dime - and by the end of it all Miles found himself very much looking forward to a long and dreamless sleep.

It shouldn’t have been any different, he told himself as he paused in the doorway to his and Phoenix’s shared bedroom. The room looked a lot smaller with their furniture and belongings filling the space: there were Phoenix’s sweaters strewn across the floor; Miles’ box of Steel Samurai manga tucked in the corner; the two somewhat lopsided desks pressed against the wall. And the one queen sized bed, of course. Miles’s eyes were drawn to it in much the same way as to a body at a crime scene.

He had bought it without thinking - it was cheap and in good condition, and came as a packaged set complete with box spring and frame (which, as far as he understood, was a coveted commodity in the college thrifting market). Besides, they needed somewhere to sleep, after all. As much as Phoenix heckled him about sleeping in his office (which had only been for one week, by the way), it’s not like he preferred couches or chairs. 

But now that he was thinking, he realized he had made a huge and terrible mistake. Despite having lived together - and after initiating a relationship at that - they had never slept in the same bed before. Miles hadn’t seen a need to, what with both of them having their own beds in the dorms. And Phoenix never brought it up, so Miles assumed that he shared the sentiment and was perfectly content with the situation.

Was he really, though? The thought crept from the back of his mind and took hold like a vice. Of the two of them, Phoenix had always been much more inclined towards physical displays of affection. Of course he would want something as intimate as sharing a bed together. Miles had never thought to ask, had never even considered it before now, and the idea made his limbs lock apprehensively.

Phoenix knew where he stood on sex - it wasn’t going to happen, and he had said that was fine. But the connotations of “sleeping together” had unfortunate implications, the likes of which made Miles begin to wonder if one conversation over a month ago where they had just barely skirted the issue and never spoke of it again had really been enough to establish any meaningful understanding on the matter.

The bed continued to loom at him from its spot against the far wall. It really did take up far too much space, Miles thought with a frown. And had more than a few lumps in the mattress, now that he was noticing. Surely it wasn’t too late to return it, was it? Or resell to another student in need? He was halfway to grabbing his phone to contact the original owner again when Phoenix appeared from behind him.

“Hey,” he said, and Miles jumped. “Woah, you okay? You were just spacing out in the doorway.”

He pushed past Miles and kicked the sweaters into one big pile on his way to the dresser.

“I’m gonna get ready for, ah…” His eyes drifted across the room, and Miles watched as the very same conclusions he had already come to suddenly hit Phoenix all at once. “...bed?”

Phoenix glanced between Miles and the bed a few times, trying to reconcile a few things in his mind.

“You bought this?”

“I was misinformed,” Miles said stiffly.

Phoenix only nodded and continued to stare silently at the bed, which was considerably worse than if he had called Miles out on his bluff. The couch was beginning to sound more and more appealing after all. But of course Phoenix seemed to have guessed what he was thinking.

“Actually you can go to sleep first,” he said, thwarting Miles’ plans to sneak off to the living room while Phoenix slept.

“I have to study,” he replied, and internally winced. It was a default excuse, and not exactly the most believable given that fall quarter hadn’t even begun yet. Although if pressed, he could at least argue that he needed the extra time to catch up on material he had missed during the spring. “And I’m not tired.” There, that was better.

Phoenix didn’t look convinced. “You were planning to sneak off and sleep on the couch, weren’t you?”

“A-As if you weren’t?” Miles shot back instinctively. To his mild surprise, Phoenix flinched and stammered.

“N-No…” 

They stood at opposite ends of the room, the weight of their stubborness putting them at an impasse. Finally Phoenix released a breath all in one rush and dropped to a slump on the edge of the bed.

“Is this weird? It’s not weird,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “We’ve basically done this before, right?”

“What, sleep in the same bed?”

Phoenix flushed. “N-Not that. The same room. But it’s basically the same thing, right?”

Miles was about to reply that it wasn’t the same thing at all and that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it, but he noticed how Phoenix chewed at his lip and how his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as they fidgeted in his lap. Somehow, the realization that Phoenix might be just as nervous as he was made the anxious coil in his stomach begin to unfurl.

“I -” he began, but the words caught in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It would be impractical not to make use of what we have. And from personal experience, sleeping on couches is a lot less comfortable.”

Phoenix snorted, but relaxed a bit. “Right.”

Miles finally left his post by the door and, as calmly and carefully as possible, sat on the opposite side of the bed. 

“I don’t know about you,” he announced, without looking at Phoenix, “but I am going to sleep now.”

Before he could lose his nerve, he flopped onto his side and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about whatever Phoenix was doing, but the lack of sound or movement from the other side of the bed was unsettling.

“What are you doing?” Phoenix said at last.

“I’m going to sleep, Phoenix.”

“Yeah but…” His voice lilted in wry amusement, and Miles had heard that tone so often that he could practically see the quirk of Phoenix’s eyebrows without having to turn around. “In your clothes?”

With as much dignity as he could muster, he pushed himself back off the bed and rummaged through the dresser for his pajamas. Phoenix was full-on grinning by the time he re-emerged properly clothed, and Miles was grateful for the loss of awkward tension even if it came at the cost of his pride.

“Now,” he said, “I am going to bed. You may join me or not, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about couches.”

He lay back onto the bed with a huff, and soon after heard Phoenix following suit as well. He remained perfectly still throughout Phoenix’s bedtime routine and managed not to bolt when he turned off the lights and carefully climbed into the space beside him. 

Like this, in the dark, it was almost easy to pretend that no one else was in the bed with him. It would have been comfortable, even, except for the fact that he couldn’t stretch his legs in any direction without falling or becoming intimately reminded of Phoenix’s existence.

“Hey Miles?” Phoenix’s voice, though soft, seemed to amplify in the darkness.

“Hm.”

“I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

The acknowledgment struck him unawares, and he blinked hard. “I know,” he finally managed around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. “I trust you.”

Phoenix swallowed audibly. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.” 

The ensuing silence was deafening, and Miles’ heart thudded in anticipation of some sort of formal end to the conversation. He was painfully aware of Phoenix’s every move beside him - the shift of legs, the rise and fall of his breathing, even the carefully motionless position he attempted to hold as a mirror to Miles’ own.

It’s not any different, Miles sternly repeated in response to his willfully restless nerves, and by the time he finally felt himself drifting off to sleep he wondered how anyone managed to survive these sorts of tumultuous emotions.

But when he awoke in the morning to their legs tangled together and Phoenix's sleeping face only inches from his own, he figured that this, at least, was well worth getting used to.

Those first few weeks passed in a haze of squandered mornings and unbearably hot afternoons. The three of them were lounging in the living area, with Miles stretched across the couch and Larry sprawled on the floor in front of the AC unit, when Phoenix closed the door to the refrigerator and slammed his hands on the counter.

“Okay,” he declared. “We need to go grocery shopping.”

“I’m not hungry though,” said Larry, as if immediate gratification had ever been the point of grocery shopping.

“Well, I’m getting hungry, and we don’t have anything here at all except for like, mayo, and I’m not eating straight up mayo for dinner.”

“What’s wrong with Ding Hao?” Larry said, waving his arm in the vague direction of the restaurant across the street that they’d been getting takeout from for the past week. “Just order from there!” 

“My wallet can’t take any more Ding Hao, no matter how good it is!”

“But it’s so easy,” Larry whined. “Cooking’s hard, man! And it takes forever for something that doesn’t even come out edible!”

“How do you know that? Microwave dinners don’t count as cooking, and you didn’t even do it right!” Larry’s first attempt at a “home-cooked meal” had involved a TV tray tikka masala dinner that he mistakenly put in the oven instead of the microwave. The resulting puddle of curry and plastic was now a permanent feature at the bottom of their oven, adding a slight burnt plastic flavor to anything they had tried cooking since.

“My point still stands!”

“Do you even know how to cook?” Miles asked Phoenix.

“I mean, it can’t be that hard, right?” he said with a shrug. Which, in hindsight, should have been a warning sign.

They drove to the nearest store and cycled through the various aisles, stocking their cart with ramen packs and soup cans and dry pasta. Larry threw in armfuls of frozen meals, while Phoenix grabbed packets of ground beef and chicken thighs from the meat section. They passed around through the produce section, where he belatedly grabbed a couple handfuls of broccoli and carrots as well.  

By the time they returned it was already what most people would consider to be a usual dinnertime, and even Miles was starting to feel peckish. Phoenix laid the groceries out on the table and surveyed his spoils.

“We’re gonna make stir fry tonight,” he decided.

“Why not just heat up some soup?” Miles said. “It’s already dinnertime, and I thought you were hungry.”

“Yeah, but I need to prove to you both that I can cook.”

Miles shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Phoenix roped him into helping prepare, which mostly just involved cutting the vegetables and chicken thighs into bite sized chunks. Meanwhile, Phoenix poured some oil into a pan and tossed in three packets of ramen. 

“See, I’m doing it right, this time,” Larry said, making a point to wave a package of frozen mac at them before he stabbed the top a few times and shoved it, fork and all, into the microwave. “And it’ll be ready in five minutes instead of like, five hours!”

“This isn’t going to take five hours, Larry,” Phoenix huffed. 

“It’s burning, Phoenix,” Miles noted.

“Shit!” He lifted the pan off the heat and flipped the noodles over. “Shit shit shit...should I have added water instead?”

“Here,” Miles said, and poured some water in the pan. The oil immediately hissed and splattered, and Phoenix dropped it back onto the stove with a yelp. Somewhere off to the side, Miles dimly registered Larry laughing at them. 

“How’s it going for you over there, Nick?” he said. Then all Miles heard was a loud bang and an “OH SHIT!” from Larry, before their ears were assaulted by the blaring of the fire alarm.

“LARRY WHAT DID YOU DO?” Phoenix said. 

“I DUNNO MAN I WAS JUST TRYING TO USE THE MICROWAVE!”

The pan was still smoking and the microwave was still sparking and that blasted alarm was going to drive him insane, and in the midst of it all Phoenix somehow decided that the most important thing to do was text someone.

“Priorities, Wright!” Miles snapped, finding enough sense of mind to at least shut off the stovetop and keep the mess in the pan from full-on bursting into flames. 

“Ack, right!” Phoenix fiddled with the stovetop before realizing it was already off and then ran back and forth between the kitchen and the fire alarm.

“How do I turn this thing off?!” he cried, looking helplessly to Miles. 

“How would I know?!” 

A series of rapid knocks joined the cacophony, followed by a muffled voice shouting, “Phoenix, is everything okay?!”

The door opened and Mia Fey stepped into the living room, wincing as she took in the scene. 

“First things first,” she yelled over the fire alarm, “let’s get this thing off.”

She grabbed a chair and ripped out the battery and the horrid blaring drained into silence. Miles and Phoenix sagged with relief.

“Now.” She turned around and cast a quick scan over the kitchen. “Is anything actually on fire?” 

“The microwave, maybe,” Phoenix said weakly.

“Turn it off,” she ordered to Larry, who somehow hadn’t thought to do that himself yet. He fumbled with the buttons until the beeping finally stopped too.

Phoenix looked up at her sheepishly. “Thanks Mia.”

“Just be glad that it wasn’t worse,” she replied. To Larry, she said, “Never, ever put utensils in the microwave. Got it?”

“But -"

"Never," she repeated with a glare, and Larry's mouth clamped shut.

The fork was still sparking in the microwave, but thankfully hadn't caught the tray or anything else on fire. Phoenix's attempted stir fry was burned beyond rescue, and now that the crisis had been averted Miles realized exactly how hungry he was after all.

“Thanks again," Phoenix said to Mia. "And, um, do you think…"

“I’m not going to cook for you, Phoenix.”

Phoenix deflated at her blunt response.

"Don't you have anything else you can make? Or get takeout instead?"

They slouched further in defeat and traded abashed glances. Phoenix's stomach grumbled loudly in the awkward silence.

Mia took in their pathetic countenances and sighed. “Alright,” she said, passing Phoenix a Ding Hao takeout menu. “Order whatever you want.”

“Here.” Mia pulled into the Costco parking lot and they all spilled out of the car. She had taken pity on them after last night’s incident and offered to take them to Costco in order to buy a replacement microwave and some other bulk supplies. None of them had ever been to a wholesale retailer before, and Miles was mildly intrigued by the possibilities.

“Hey Edgeworth,” Maya said, creeping up behind him. “I heard they’ve got that Steel Samurai cereal here. In bulk.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t seen any at the grocery store, even after systematically scouring the shelves. While he had never been a huge fan of cereal, the prospect of finding a limited edition figurine at the bottom was more than enough incentive for stomaching bland mouthfuls of the stuff. 

“Yeah! You know, I bet I could get to the bottom of an entire box before you.”

“I would not take you up on that bet,” Miles said, having witnessed Maya’s voracious eating habits numerous times by this point.

Maya had somehow decided to latch onto Miles since meeting him again at the end of spring quarter, citing the fact that he was the only person she knew who could hold an informed and in-depth conversation about the Steel Samurai. She demanded that they exchange cell phone numbers and didn’t give him any choice in the matter, having already snatched his phone and typed in her contact information. He always knew whenever she was in town by the flurry of text messages that would suddenly light up his alerts. 

“I don’t have good cell reception at home,” she had told him once. “So I have to wait a whole two WEEKS just to talk about the Steel Samurai! Can you believe it?!”

“Surely there’s at least one other person you could talk to?” Miles had said.

“Nah, they’re all old fuddies,” she replied, wrinkling her nose, and that was all there was to say about that.

Miles didn’t know much about her family life - she didn’t divulge, and he felt it rude to pry. And it wasn’t as though he could ask Mia, who barely approved of him as it was. From what little he could gather, in conjunction with the strange robes she always wore, he guessed that her hometown was rather lonely, and more than a little cultish.

The inside of the Costco was enormous and stuffed from floor to ceiling with pallets of electronics and household necessities and sacks of rice and flour and beans as large as torsos. They grabbed one of the rice bags, as well as a new microwave, a stack of frozen beef patties, and enough toilet paper to last them half a year. Larry and Maya raced each other to the free sample booths, where staff passed out small cups full of snacks and hot foods to try. Mia compared prices for various meats and finally settled on a pack each of chicken thigh and breasts. 

At last they reached the pantry staples, where Miles presumed they could find the promised Steel Samurai cereal. He began making his way down the aisle when Larry called him over to the coffee and teas.

“Look Edgey, they’ve got a bunch of tea for you too!” he said, after dumping a head-sized coffee bag into their cart.

Miles glanced over the selection (only one variety each of brand-name green and black? Pathetic.) and waved him off with a dismissive, “I’ll pass.”

“But...I thought you liked this stuff!”

"He likes his tea inconvenient and expensive," Phoenix said. 

"I like my tea high quality, thank you.”

“Hey Edgeworth!” Maya waved her hands from the end of the aisle. “Here it is!!”

Miles did not run, but he did walk at a fair pace brisker than usual to catch up to her. She proudly pointed towards a wall of the largest boxes of cereal Miles had ever seen, and right in the middle were a cluster of Steel Samurai branded oat loops.

“See that?!”

“Of course! I’m looking at it!” 

“So how many are you gonna buy?” Maya said, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Miles scoffed. “Only five of them.”

“Plus six for me then,” she said, tossing several boxes into the cart. 

“Maya!” Mia reprimanded. “I’m not buying you six of these!”

“I’ll buy them,” Miles said. 

Mia assessed him for a moment, then sighed. “Edgeworth, you really don’t -”

“It’s for a good cause,” he insisted, and Maya cheered.

Miles expected to hear some sort of teasing remark from Phoenix, as he had become accustomed to whenever his Steel Samurai habits were involved. What he did not expect was to turn around and see the way Phoenix was looking at him, his face alight with something wondrous and soft. Miles’ stomach flipped violently at the open candidness of it, and he hastily turned away. Luckily, an outburst from Maya drew everyone’s attention.

“We can’t leave before getting PIZZA!” she cried. “And HOT DOGS!”

"Now this kid's speaking my language!" said Larry, giving her a high five.

“And yours too, apparently,” Phoenix said fondly, slipping his hand into Miles’. There was the Steel Samurai jab, although it had come far too late. Miles tried to shake that odd expression from his mind, but in spite of his best efforts his heart refused to stop racing until long after they returned home. 

Fall quarter began with little fanfare. They were quickly whisked back into the hectic routine of college life, juggling classes and part-time jobs and, in Larry’s case, skirting the edges of the social party scene. Phoenix had recently begun interning at Grossberg’s law office, where Mia was now working as a full-time paralegal while studying for the bar exam. Miles would never admit it to her, but he felt that Mia could do far better than Grossberg if she put her mind to it. As for himself, he continued to work part-time at the Prosecutor’s Office while balancing a packed courseload at Ivy U.

Their second month in the apartment was marked by the constant struggle of maintaining a living space, where the only room that was consistently clean was the bathroom. After one more week of sneezing from the dust in the carpet and shaking crumbs off the bottom of his feet every time he walked into the kitchen, Miles decided that he had had enough and took it upon himself to draft up a weekly chore chart with a rotating schedule for the three of them.

He posted the schedule in the kitchen and sat down with both Phoenix and Larry to make sure they were aware of their duties. He expected disobedience from Larry - his response in the first place had been a dismissive, "yeah, yeah, whatever Edgey" - but he hoped that Phoenix at least would respect the schedule. And yet Miles found him in the bathroom two weeks in a row, furiously scrubbing at the toilet.

“Phoenix,” he said, tapping his arm. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning the toilet,” he said, “obviously.”

“The bathroom is Larry’s job this week. Yours is vacuuming.”

“Yeah, but Larry’s not thorough enough and he’s going to leave stains,” Phoenix said. “And I hate vacuuming. The carpet’s just gonna get all dusty again in like a day anyway.”

“I don’t see how that’s different than the bathroom,” Miles pointed out.

“Well, leave me to my bathroom shrine and you can take care of the carpet."

“That ruins the entire point of a chore chart, Wright!” 

“Oooooh, Nicky’s in trouble now!” Larry poked his head out from his room, smirking.

Miles whipped around to level his iciest glare at Larry. “If you have time to eavesdrop, you have time to catch up on your portion of the chores, Butz.”

“Eep!” Larry yelped and ducked back into his room. Miles had never heard a door slam so fast.

Phoenix wouldn’t budge on his monopoly over the bathroom, and Miles reluctantly scrapped the rotation schedule for something a little more realistic. Which meant that Miles was now solely in charge of sweeping and vacuuming while Larry was responsible for dusting and wiping down the kitchen counters. Miles hoped, somewhat vainly, that giving Larry an easier task would mean that he would actually do it.

While Miles didn’t have the same grudge against vacuuming that Phoenix apparently did, he began to regret it once he discovered exactly what it entailed. It wasn’t dust that was the problem - rather, it was the dirt and debris from the multitude of potted plants that Phoenix collected.

“Mia needs me to take care of them,” Phoenix said when, after Larry had tripped over one of the pots and spilled dirt all over the carpet again, Miles had asked why there were so many plants in the apartment in the first place.

“They’re just plants, can’t she take care of them herself?”

“I’m plant-sitting them for her. It’s repayment for the Costco thing.”

Miles sighed, knowing that any clarifying details he received on the concept of “plant-sitting” would only somehow be more confusing. He settled on asking the most pertinent question instead: “Do they need to be inside, though?”

“Well yeah,” Phoenix said. “They’re houseplants.”

“That doesn’t mean that they have to be inside the house," Miles argued, a little waspishly.

“Plants need a lot of love and attention! How will they know I care if I leave them outside!”

“I assure you that they won’t even notice.”

“Says the guy who can’t even keep a cactus alive. You know that different plants have different water tolerance levels, right?”

“Oh really?” Miles said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realize you were such a plant expert, now. Can you even name any of the plants here?”

“Yeah,” Phoenix said smugly, and pointed at a particularly grassy looking one that had long white stripes down the middle of its leaves. “That one’s a spider plant.”

“Ngkh...Then what about this one?” He pointed to a stubby plant with fleshy green spikes.

“Easy! That’s a...uh…” Phoenix’s confident expression faltered. “A...cactus.”

Miles smirked. He had him now. “Oh Phoenix,” he chided. “Even I know that that’s a succulent, not a cactus.”

“But a cactus is a type of succulent, so I’m at least half right!”

“All cacti may be succulents, but not all succulents are cacti. Therefore, you are entirely wrong.”

“Alright, well I bet you can’t be more specific either,” Phoenix challenged. His eyes flashed, and Miles finally noticed how close they had gotten over the course of the debate. “Tell me, what kind of succulent is it, Miles?”

“Ugh, c’mon Nick and Edgey!” Larry interrupted from the kitchen. “Get a room, why don’t you?”

They jumped apart and stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding knocking over another pot.

Plants weren’t the only thing Phoenix seemed to collect, either. He returned home one day with a strange carrying case and set it gently on the floor in the middle of the living room, then laid out on the ground in front of it and made cooing sounds as he peered at whatever was inside. 

“Phoenix…” Miles said warily, “what is that?”

“Shh, you’ll scare her!” Phoenix said, confirming Miles’ suspicions that he had upgraded from plants to something much more mobile and warm-blooded. “She’s pretty shy.”

“Shy” was not the word Miles would have used. Phoenix slowly unzipped the case and a grey blur shot across the room, hissing and spitting at them from its hiding spot underneath the couch. A striped paw swatted at Phoenix’s face when he crouched down to coax it out.

“Phoenix…” Miles said again, frowning. “Don’t tell me you adopted a cat on a whim.”

Phoenix held out his hand while the cat took another swipe. “I didn’t.”

“Phoenix, you have a cat right there, you can’t claim otherwise!”

“Okay, so uh, maybe instead of adopting on a whim, you could say that I... took her on a whim?”

“WHAT?! ” Miles cried. “Wright, where the hell did you steal this cat from?!”

“She’s a stray! I didn’t steal her from anyone!” Phoenix sat up on his knees, looking a bit put out. The cat withdrew from its swatting and retreated further under the couch. “There’s a bunch of them over near the studio art building. Larry and I noticed them at the beginning of the quarter and we -” He paused and swallowed nervously as Miles’ glare deepened. “We may have, uh, been feeding them?”

Of course Larry was involved. Miles was starting to get a headache.

“And you thought it was a good idea to bring one home.”

“I mean, just look at her, Miles!” Phoenix gestured at the couch. “How could I not?”

At the moment Miles couldn’t make any judgments for himself, but he strongly doubted that this cat was cute enough to offset the inevitable damage it would do to their furniture. And bodies, if the claw marks on Phoenix’s arms were anything to go by.

“Tell me you’ve at least taken it to the vet,” Miles said instead.

“Erm,” Phoenix said, and if Miles wasn’t so charmed by this exasperating boy he would have chased both him and the cat out to the curb. “That was next on my list. Right after introducing her to you.”

Miles closed his eyes and sighed. “And let me guess, you wanted me to take you there.”

“Yeah!” Phoenix said, his face glowing.

“Can’t Larry take you?”

“He could, but…” Phoenix trailed off, and Miles resolved not to be bullied into assisting with making the cat a permanent member of their household. Someone had to remain sensible around here. But Phoenix was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and against his better judgement he found himself saying, “Fine. But don’t expect me to help take care of it.”

The cat, whom Phoenix had given the sickeningly adorable name of “Nyano”, began to warm up to them when she realized that they were a reliable source of food. She eyed them warily and skittered away whenever anyone attempted to pet her, but was gracious enough to allow them the honor of her proximity. She very quickly learned that nagging Miles for food would get her nowhere (“You’ve already had breakfast, I watched Phoenix give it to you.”) and generally ignored him in favor of Larry and Phoenix instead. Her fur had started out dull and matted when Phoenix first took her in, but was now glossy and fluffy after living off of a sustained feeding schedule. Green eyes shone out of her grey-striped face, and while Miles could see where Phoenix was coming from when he called her “cute”, he still didn’t think it was worth putting up with her annoying behaviors.

“Nyano, sit still,” Phoenix grumbled. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a sketchbook across his lap, purportedly practicing for his intermediate drawing class.

She jumped onto Miles’ desk and tentatively hovered one paw over his textbook. Don’t you dare, he silently thought at her, and, with a glance towards him that was entirely deliberate, she stepped over his papers and plopped directly on top of the book.

“Aw, she likes you.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at the cat, who hadn’t even had the decency to sit with her face towards him. “She does not. She just enjoys taunting me.”

“Awww,” Phoenix crooned. “You like her.”

“I do not,” he retorted. He tried nudging her off his book, but she swished her tail and refused to budge. How anyone liked these insufferable creatures was beyond him.

“Well, at least she’s sitting still now,” Phoenix said, and resumed sketching. 

“How am I supposed to get any work done like this?” Miles grumbled, reaching for his book.

“Don’t move her! I’ve waited all day for this.”

Miles cast a cynical look over his shoulder. “To sketch your cat.”

“Yeah. Besides, you could use a break anyway. You haven’t moved from that desk since this morning.”

He was right, but that didn’t mean Miles had to be happy about it. “What else am I supposed to do in the meantime, then?”

“You could tell me your best roommate gossip,” Phoenix suggested with a grin. “Larry said he’d be out all day today, so get your grievances out now.”

“Well, there is one thing,” Miles began slowly. “I have a roommate who insists on leaving his clothes lying on the ground, even though there’s a perfectly good dresser not more than a foot away. If I trip over another unpaired sock he’s going to find them all stuffed into his pillow.”

“Wh- hey!” Phoenix cried. “Unfair!”

“You asked for my best roommate gossip,” he said, smirking.

“Well yeah, but I didn’t mean about me!”

“Fine then. Larry is disgusting and doesn’t eat with a plate. He just shoves food directly into his mouth and spills crumbs everywhere. And since sweeping is my job, you can tell how annoying that is.”

“Oh I like this much better,” Phoenix said.

“Did you realize he dries himself off with his dirty clothes instead of a towel?”

Phoenix gaped at him. “Wait, what ?!” he said, bursting into laughter. “Oh my god you’re kidding.”

“I am not. I’ve seen him bringing two sets of clothes into the bathroom a few times now.”

“Holy shit,” he said, wiping his eyes. He was laughing so hard that his hand shook, and Miles wondered how the drawings would turn out with the pen wavering so much.

“And I don’t care if he’s the only reason we have a place to live in the first place. If he eats any more of my dumplings I will personally kick him out of this apartment.”

Phoenix’s smile froze. “O-Oh?”

Miles made a note of this interesting reaction and flagged it for future contemplation. “Yes. He’s been careful not to be too obvious, but I’ve noticed a definite decrease since I first opened the bag.”

Phoenix nodded but remained suspiciously quiet. 

Miles eyed him carefully, then added, "And whenever he does decide to finally wipe down the counters - which is the easiest possible chore he could do, by the way - it's always right after I've already swept the floors…"

That got Phoenix chuckling again. And the next time he opened the bag of dumplings in the freezer, he saw that they remained untouched.

Something about their apartment seemed to attract strays, because Miles returned home one afternoon to find that they had collected another occupant in the shape of a middle school girl.

“Maya?” he said. He caught Larry lurking in the kitchen and stopped him short with a glare. “What is she doing here?”

“She said she knew you, so I let her in!”

“You didn’t think to call her sister or anything?”

“She already knows I’m here. She’s gonna pick me up after work,” Maya chimed in from the couch. She hadn’t wasted any time making herself comfortable - her bare feet were propped up on the coffee table and she was flipping through channels on the TV.

“And you can’t just go into strangers’ apartments, Maya!”

“But you’re not a stranger, so…” She shrugged and rifled through what Miles recognized as Phoenix’s bag of potato chips.

“No, but Larry is, and I don’t trust him not to teach you something weird or disgusting.”

“Aw, lighten up, Edgey!” Larry said.

“Yeah, lighten up, Edgey!” Maya echoed, grinning cheekily.

Miles ignored her and scowled at Larry. “Exactly like that.”

“‘What, ‘Edgey’? That’s not weird, it’s cute!” 

“It’s horrendous and disgusting.”

“Nah, it’s pretty cute,” said Maya. Before she could argue further, she spotted Nyano poking her head into the room and with single-minded enthusiasm shouted, “CAT! ” 

Nyano, sensing imminent cuddles, dodged Maya’s lunge and dashed to safety under the couch. Maya was undeterred - she crouched onto the floor and began rooting around for even one fleeting brush of cat fur.

“Hey, what’s this?” She scrunched up her face in concentration and pulled out a black rectangle that Miles recognized as Phoenix’s sketchbook. He was about to tell her it was such when she flipped it open and began skimming through the pages. 

“Aw, boring. I thought it was your diary or something,” she said. 

“That’s Phoenix’s,” Miles said. “And you should put it back, I’m not sure he would appreciate you going through his things.”

She ignored him and continued skimming over the pages, and even though Miles put on a stern front he couldn’t help feeling a little curious about the contents. Phoenix had always been hesitant to show him anything he drew, making excuses about the quality being poor and the pieces being rushed and unfinished. But Miles managed to shove his curiosity aside out of respect for Phoenix’s wishes and was about to be a little more firm in his request when an outburst from Maya cut off that train of thought.

“Oh my god,” she cried. “He’s been drawing you!”

“W-What?” Miles flinched, too shocked to move closer and see for himself.

“That’s SOOOO cute,” she gushed.

Larry learned over and gaped at the page. “Oh shit! She’s right dude!”

“Language, Larry!” Miles rebuked, latching onto the only part of the conversation he felt like he had any control over.

“It’s okay. Sis lets me say ‘fuck’,” Maya said, which shattered any remaining semblance of control. “Besides, this is way more interesting than swearing anyway. Look!”

She shoved the sketchbook in Miles’ face, and he blinked a few times before the drawings came into focus. The sketches were rough and held more of a general shape than fine details. But that was definitely his nose, and his bangs, and his mouth, even if it was pulled into an unrecognizable smile in all of the side profiles. Do I really look like this? he wondered, heat rising steadily in his cheeks. Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was, Larry decided to prove him wrong.

“Are those...cat ears?” Larry said, pointing to a sketch in the bottom corner.

Maya leaned in and shrieked in Miles’ ear. “They ARE!!!”

Sure enough, underneath a sketch of Miles and Nyano at his desk, there were a few small doodles of Miles with cat ears - one with ears perked and eyes shining that had the scrawling title of “steel samurai”, and another with ears flattened slightly and a pouting expression that said "it's not like I like you or anything…"

“Hm, yeah, I can totally see it.” Larry squinted at Miles and held out his fingers as though framing his face in a photograph.

“Oh yeah, definitely!” Maya agreed, nodding.

“This doesn’t look anything like me -” Miles protested, and was thankfully interrupted from having to think about it any further by Phoenix and Mia’s arrival.

“Oh hey, what are you -” Phoenix began, but after one look at Miles’ face and the book in Maya’s hands he blanched and leapt forward. Maya was quicker, and she pulled the sketchbook behind her back before he was able to snatch it away.

“Look, that’s for my class -” 

“So you submit Cat Edgeworth for all your class projects huh?” 

Phoenix’s face was bright red, and Miles normally would have reveled in flustering him further if the whole situation wasn’t so mortifyingly embarrassing for him too.

Mia was of no help, either. She slipped off her shoes and walked past them without so much as a backwards glance.

“I’ll be back in a sec, Maya,” she called as she disappeared down the hall.

Phoenix tried grabbing for the sketchbook while Maya was distracted, but she deftly sidestepped his lunge and held it at arm’s reach.

“Maya, please,” he begged. “Give that back -”

“I don’t see what’s so embarrassing. Cat Edgeworth is adorable! Right Edgey?”

“Oh my god,” Phoenix groaned. “Please stop saying that.”

Miles was still too stunned to react. Larry stood to the side and watched while Phoenix and Maya dodged around each other, snickering.

“Alright, how about this: I’ll give it back if you buy me burgers! From In ‘n Out!”

“Oh and me too!” Larry burst. “Buy us In ‘n Out or we’ll spill your secrets, Nick!”

“It’s too late for that, traitors!”

“Is Phoenix buying us dinner, now?” Mia re-emerged from the hallway and joined Larry in watching the tussle. “Oh and nice bathroom, by the way. Incredibly clean.”

“Ah, um, thanks,” Phoenix stuttered. That explains some things, Miles thought. It also raised many more questions, such as why all the defense attorneys from Grossberg’s office were obsessed with impeccably clean bathrooms.

“And stop teasing him, Maya,” Mia said, finally doing her part. “He’s already agreed to buy us dinner.”

Phoenix groaned. “Alright, alright, I get it, dinner’s on me. Can I please have my sketchbook back now?”

“Goodbye, Cat Edgeworth,” Maya said reverently, plopping it into his hand. “And helloooo burgers!”

Phoenix clutched the sketchbook tight and rushed to the bedroom to hide it from further prying. When he returned, his cheeks were still pink and he pointedly avoided meeting Miles’ eyes. 

“That was way better than a diary,” Maya chortled as they all filed out of the apartment for the promised burgers, and Miles resolved to forget about the entire incident for both his and Phoenix’s sakes.

The morning hadn’t started out any different from a usual morning. Miles had just finished his fourth box of Steel Samurai cereal, with little luck so far in collecting each of the three figurines. He had gotten one Pink Princess and three (three!) Evil Magistrates, but of course the Steel Samurai - the only one he wanted the most - was missing. He held the last box in his hands and was reluctant to open it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

“I mean, this last one’s gotta be the one,” Phoenix said, spreading peanut butter over his toast. “What’re the odds of it being another Evil Magistrate, right?”

“Likelier than you think,” Miles said, frowning. 

“Well, you’ll never find out if you don’t open it.”

“But if I never open it there’s always the possibility that it does in fact contain the Steel Samurai.”

“Ah yes. Schrodinger's Steel Samurai,” Phoenix said, rolling his eyes. He cast a fond look in Miles’ direction and held out a bag of bread. “Toast, then?”

Miles sighed. “No. I’ll eat the cereal.” Might as well get it over with.

He pried open the top of the box and cut into the bag, holding his breath in anticipation. Here goes nothing, he thought, and pulled out the toy at the top. His heart soared when he saw those signature silver knots and red hakama, and he couldn’t help letting out an ecstatic, “AHA!”

“See?” Phoenix exclaimed. “You got it!”

“It’s not just that though,” Miles said, his chest bubbling with excitement. He couldn’t believe his luck - the previous three Evil Magistrates were worth it just for this. “I’ve got a full matching set for the Titanium arc - see, there are three different versions of each character you could ostensibly receive from this limited edition collection, and their outfits and poses differ based on the arc that they’re derived from. However, the Titanium arc is arguably the best, and to get a full matching set is...!”

He pulled out his phone to text Maya - she of all people would understand the euphoria he was feeling.

“I would have been satisfied with just having one of each character but this is better than I could have hoped for!”

He glanced up to find that Phoenix was watching him with that expression again, the one that made his insides flip at the softness of it. His face shone as if Miles was the sun to his moon; as though anything and everything he said could bring withered fields to life or hang stars in the sky. It was at once both incredibly new and impossibly familiar, and a memory flashed through Miles' mind of a nine year old Phoenix listening with the same rapt attention while his nine year old self prattled on and on about justice and legality and other such horribly dry topics that no normal child would ever tolerate listening to for more than a minute. But Phoenix would listen like that for as long as Miles went on, without interrupting even once. It was just another one of those things Miles had never thought to question - he had simply attributed it to Phoenix being Phoenix. But now, when juxtaposed against an entirely different context...

Oh.

Oh no.

Miles didn’t know what to do with this information, but he knew it was far too early in the day to experience so many feelings. Especially feelings that made his stomach squirm and swoop like some predator and prey pursuit right out of a nature documentary.

He pushed himself away from the table abruptly. “I should get ready for class,” he heard himself say as Phoenix’s face fell.

What was that? he wondered, heart thudding. He’d caught Phoenix looking at him like that a few times before, but he never fully understood the context or connected it to a particular pattern. It was perplexing, and unfounded, and extremely difficult to pinpoint what it meant.

He found out for certain a few mornings later, during a lazy Saturday when the two of them were lounging in bed. He was curled into Phoenix’s arms, back pressed against his stomach, and was recounting an exchange between his professor and one of his idiotic classmates that he knew Phoenix would enjoy.

“I love you,” Phoenix mumbled, laughing into Miles’ ear. And there it was - the inevitable conclusion to the question he had put off contemplating.

In the back of his mind he’d always known, and in theory he should have had plenty of time to come to grips with it - but it was different to hear it said so plainly, different with the weight of certainty behind it, different knowing that there was the expectation of a response. I should say something, he thought frantically, shouldn’t I? Instead, his mind went numb and his body tensed and the silence stretched on as an answer in and of itself.

“Ah, that is, you don’t…” Phoenix trailed off and shifted slightly away. “I just wanted to say it, don’t worry about it.”

What, Miles thought as the warmth at his back receded fully. He was only vaguely aware of clothes rustling and the floor creaking as Phoenix padded out of the room. What.

Nyano hopped onto the bed and settled into the spot where Phoenix had been, seeking to soak up as much of the warmth as she could. Miles didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she starting nipping at his elbow he figured that now was as good a time as any to force himself out of bed as well.

Phoenix and Larry were both rummaging through the kitchen when he entered. Phoenix sensed Miles’ presence and immediately snapped his attention towards him, causing all of the breath in his lungs to briefly catch.

What is this? He couldn’t meet Phoenix’s eyes, couldn’t even look at him without his stomach threatening to escape via his chest. It was agonizingly debilitating and entirely unpleasant, especially when he wanted to get on with his day without looking like a complete fool. Breakfast was out of the question at this point - reaching the cereal box meant having to brush past Phoenix, and if Miles was having this much trouble from a safe distance of ten feet away then there was no way he would be able to get any closer without going into cardiac arrest. Besides, the thought of Steel Samurai cereal only served to remind him of That Look on Phoenix’s face, which now had a name to it that made all his thought processes skitter to a halt. 

“Finally got up, huh?” Phoenix said, and at the sound of his voice Miles nearly jumped out of his skin. How did he manage to sound so normal? There were many things in life that weren’t fair, and existing in the same universe as someone who could so casually toss around declarations of adoration was one of them.

Obviously the only solution was to not look at Phoenix anymore. And to avoid him as much as possible. Sleeping would be difficult, but he could always revisit the couch option. And he didn’t need to spend so much time at his desk at home anyways, not when he had plenty of other desks available to him at the library or the Prosecutor’s Office.

This is all entirely reasonable, Miles told himself after successfully dodging any substantial interaction with Phoenix over the next few days. He managed to be able to sleep in the same bed as long as he stuck as close to the edge as possible, and could even hold a brief conversation. The trick was to not look at Phoenix while doing so, or else risk losing his train of thought and reverting back into a stammering idiot.

All things considered, he felt like he was making progress. 

“This is fine,” he muttered, absently pouring water over the houseplants. “If I can keep this up for a few more days, I’m sure everything will go back to normal.”

"Are you trying to kill Henry on purpose?"

Miles startled at Phoenix’s voice and splashed water all over his socks. 

“W-Who in god’s name is Henry?”

“The plant that you’re overwatering,” Phoenix said, stepping around him and peering into his face. “Are you okay?”

“I am - yes,” Miles said, averting his eyes. “Fine. Yes. Goodbye.”

He absconded before Phoenix had the chance to pry any further, pulling on his shoes and dashing out of the door as fast as he could. It was only when he attempted to get in his car that he realized he had taken the water cup with him as well. Not that it mattered - he’d return it once he got back home. All he knew was that he had to be anywhere but here, which was how he ended up outside Mia Fey’s apartment with mismatched shoes and an empty glass in his hands.

“Edgeworth?” Mia said, unable to hide her shock at his sudden appearance.

Miles honestly didn’t know why he was here either, but offered the most probable excuse he could think of at the moment. “Is Maya in?”

His answer came running into view. “Hey Edgeworth!” Maya said. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to consult you on something,” he said. “Are you free?”

“Only always!” she said, rolling her eyes. He followed her to the couch while Mia retreated to her room and left them to their own devices. Maya flicked on the TV, automatically scrolling through to the Global Studios channel.

“So what’s the scoop? I thought I already dished all my latest gossip from this week’s episode.”

“You did, but this is…” Miles glanced towards the hallway and lowered his voice. “It’s more of a, er, personal problem.”

“Hmm,” she mused, tapping her cheek. “Is it something about Nick? Sis says he’s being more annoying than usual lately.”

“O-oh?” 

“Yep,” she said. 

She refused to elaborate, and he refused to ask. Reluctantly, he admitted, “It...may be about him, yes.”

“‘May be’, huh?”

Miles grimaced. “I...am having a difficult time talking to him normally.”

“Ooooooh,” she cooed, grinning wickedly. “Does someone have a cru~ush?” 

“I - We’re dating,” Miles said. “It’s not a crush when you’re dating.”

“Never fear, Edgeworth!” She ignored his protests and leaned forward with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “I’ve got extensive experience in the fine art of romance!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, she pulled out a box filled with pastel colored manga and DVDs with various couples leaning on each other or staring into each other’s eyes.

“Maya…” Miles said, “I’m not sure what kind of advice I can learn from these sorts of fictional scenarios.”

She puffed out her cheeks in a huff of breath. “Okay, so maybe I don’t have any real life experience, but it’s still more than you!” she retorted. He eyed the stack doubtfully. He didn’t see how an extensive collection of romcoms and shoujo manga made her qualified to provide romantic advice. Then again, he probably shouldn’t have asked for advice from a middle schooler in the first place.

“So what does it feel like?”

“E-Excuse me?”

“Your love problem, duh!”

Miles cringed. “I-I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“Dodging the question, Edgeworth!”

He sighed. “It’s...nauseating. It’s like I’m constantly on the precipice of falling, or feeling like I’ve made some devastating mistake. And my head keeps spinning and I can’t even think straight and it’s incredibly annoying because I become a useless fool whenever I’m around him, and I don’t feel like myself at all. All in all it’s extremely exhausting, and there’s absolutely no basis for why this should be happening.”

Maya nodded along, considering. “Sounds like a classic crush to me. Not that -” She cut herself off and swallowed, cheeks tinged slightly pink. “Anyway!”

She shuffled through the stack of books, picking a few out here and there, then shoved approximately ten volumes into Miles’ arms. Having watched the entire process, he wasn’t sure what criteria she used to determine that these particular books would provide the best advice for his current situation.

“You can borrow those,” she said, “and for now, we’ll watch this!”

She grabbed one of the romcoms from the pile and stuffed it into the DVD player, and Miles spent the next hour or so watching as a couple in their early thirties met, fell in love, and then proceeded to stumble into an endless pile of relationship troubles as a byproduct of their poor communication skills.

“Why is this an issue? Didn’t they just affirm their feelings for each other in the previous scene?” he scoffed after the main character began avoiding the leading man due to misunderstanding involving the man’s long-lost sister. “What do you like about this drivel anyway?”

“It’s fun and cute, geez!” Maya huffed. “And it’s not like I’ll ever experience any of this stuff in real life so…”

She stiffened, and Miles got the sense that she hadn’t meant to mention that aloud. She fidgeted in her seat and glanced away awkwardly.

“So...I guess I don’t really know what love feels like,” she admitted, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. “Like, in the same way as the movies, you know? Everybody always talks about crushes in books and TV shows and stuff, and I keep waiting and waiting, but I don’t really know what I’m waiting for.”

“It’s highly overrated,” Miles sniffed.

Maya snorted and rolled her eyes. “Geez, Edgeworth, this is why you need my help!"

“I just don’t see the point of all this performative nonsense,” he said, gesturing at the screen. “Shouldn’t it be enough for both parties to know that their feelings are requited just by nature of being in a relationship?”

“Maybe for you, but not for everyone!” Maya retorted. “I mean, I tell my friends and my family that I love them all the time. If you don’t tell them, how will they know?”

"Ngh…" Miles grumbled. “I...suppose…”

They finished watching the rest of the movie with minimal commentary from that point on, and while Miles still didn’t find it especially helpful at least it was entertaining.

"Thank you, Maya," he said, standing at the doorstep with his arms full of teenage romance manga. "For the entertainment and…and the advice."

“Anytime, Edgey,” she replied, beaming while he scowled at that horrible nickname. “But also you totally owe me burgers next time.”

Miles knew he was in trouble when even Larry seemed to pick up on his poor state of mind. Larry caught him walking out of the library late one evening and grabbed him before he could escape.

“Edgey, Edgey, Edgey,” he said, hooking an arm around Miles’ shoulders. “Fancy running into you here!”

“It’s weirder to see you here than it is to see me,” Miles replied, shrugging him off. He strongly considered heading back into the library to scare him off for good, but Larry was already dragging him away around the back of the building.

“Wanna see my latest art project?” Larry asked, settling into a nook behind some bushes.

“Not particularly.”

“Here it is!” he said, ignoring Miles. He shoved his phone in Miles’ face and flashed a photo of some sort of sculpture that only vaguely resembled human body proportions. 

“Art’s actually pretty fun, you know,” Larry went on. “I figured I’d try it out with Nick because he seems to like it, and it’s like, how hard can it be? But it turns out I’m pretty good at it! And Nick’s pretty good too, you know.“ Miles flinched at the mention of Phoenix, but Larry didn’t seem to notice. He snapped his fingers and said, “Hey, maybe you should take an art class with him too sometime!”

Miles swallowed. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Whaaaat? Why not?”

“I’m not good at art,” he said flatly.

Larry rolled his eyes. “That’s the whole point of taking a class! Nick wouldn’t care, anyway.”

That was a lie - Phoenix would use the opportunity to tease him relentlessly. And besides, it would be impossible to avoid Phoenix without making him suspicious. He was lucky that their schedules didn’t align this quarter, otherwise he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to any of his lectures over the past week.

“You think too much, Edgey,” Larry said. “You’ve just gotta loosen up a bit! Here.” He pulled out a water bottle from his backpack and handed it to Miles. “Try some of this!”

That in and of itself should have raised one or two red flags, but he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything Larry said in the last minute or so. He took an instinctive sip, and his tongue was instantly assaulted by a sharp, spicy sting. He choked and spat it out all over the grass.

“What is this?!” 

“Alcohol, duh,” Larry said. At Miles’ glare he peered at the contents and then shrugged. “Rum, maybe?”

“Well it tastes awful.”

“Anywaaaay…” Larry drawled. “How’s life goin’? How’s the relationship goin’? Tell me all your problems, Edgey.”

“I don’t have any problems.”

Larry snorted. “C’mon, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one! Anyone can tell that you’ve been avoiding Nick for some reason! He’s been crying to me like, nonstop!”

Miles felt a pang of guilt. “He- He’s that upset?”

“Well no, I’m just exaggerating,” Larry said. “But he is being annoying about it.”

“As if you have any right to complain,” Miles muttered darkly.

“The POINT, Edgey, is that whatever problem you guys have, you’ve gotta fix it! For both our sakes!”

He waved the bottle in Miles’ face and waggled his eyebrows. Miles grimaced, but grabbed it from him and took another swig. It was better than talking about his Phoenix problems, in any case. The rum burned down his throat and left an aftertaste of cinnamon lingering on his tongue. 

“See, I’m here to help you unload your woes,” Larry said, sloshing the bottle around. He took a long draught and then considered his statement. “Woah that sounded poetic. I’m a genius.”

Miles wondered how he had gotten to a point in his life where he accepted the fact that he was hiding behind a bush while illegally drinking alcohol and divulging his relationship troubles to Larry. It wasn’t something he preferred to dwell on, so instead he took another gulp of the proffered drink.

“Heh, it’s like a game,” Larry said smugly. “Drink every time you repress your feelings, amirite?”

“I’m not repressing anything,” Miles snapped, although it came out a bit slower and less sharp than he wanted it to.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say Edgey,” Larry said, smirking behind the lid of the water bottle.

Miles wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but his skin felt itchy and his face felt hot. Maybe he was allergic to feelings. Maybe he was just dying. He kind of hoped it was the latter - that would solve the feelings problem at least. And then he wouldn’t have to consider the possibility that Larry might be right about something after all.

“He’s too good for me,” he blurted. “Everything he does is so sincere and so selfless and so...so kind. He shines so brightly it hurts. He means so much to me and I can’t - I can’t even show it, but he does it so effortlessly all the time. I don’t even know what he sees in me. He deserves someone who can - who can shower him in affection, and who doesn’t run away from their feelings, and who won’t...won’t hurt him again.”

Larry was quiet for a long moment. “There,” he said, “just tell him all of what you just told me!”

Miles stared at Larry. Had he paid any attention at all?! “I can’t do that.”

“Come on, Edgey, why not?’

“Because it’s -” Terrifying. Distressing. “Weird.”

“It’s not weird. You’re just a scaredy cat. You’re even worse than Nyano!”

“Ngoo…” Miles mumbled, throwing his head into his arms. “Don’t compare me to her. And I’m not.”

“Geez, don’t worry so much! He really likes you a lot, you know.”

“I know that!” Miles cried, and hated how petulant he sounded. “That’s not the issue here.”

“Sooo…What is the issue then?”

“Did you not listen the first time?! I can’t -” He swallowed and stared at the ground. “I’m not good at...displays of affection.”

Larry grinned at him with a wide, lecherous smile that he did not like at all, then slapped him on the back and said, “Well Edgey, you’ve come to the right guy!”

The next half hour passed in a blur as Larry dragged him around campus, where Miles found himself to be an unwilling accomplice to various antics involving stealing A-frame signs, breaking into rooftop stairwells, and other questionably legal activities. He had to physically restrain Larry several times when he started belting out nonsensical songs about Miles’ “lovey dovey” feelings for Phoenix, both out of mortification and for fear of being caught drunk and snooping.

“Larry…” Miles said after Larry had shoved a marker in his hands and instructed him to scribble ME + PW all over the wall of the law department bathroom. “How is any of this supposed to be a romantic gesture? These are simply crimes!”

“Yeah, crimes of PASSION!!”

“That’s not what that means!” Miles hissed.

“Look here, Edgey,” Larry said, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Miles was indignantly insulted about being condescended to by Larry, of all people. “Nick loves when you do stuff for him. That’s why he’s been mooning after you since you stood up for him in grade school. You’ve just gotta like, get him in trouble and save him again to prove your love for him, or something! All of this is training to build up your courage!”

“There are so many things wrong with that explanation that I don’t even know where to start,” Miles snapped. “And grade school? Really?”

“Aw c’mon, Edgey, you can’t tell me you never noticed!”

He had, of course, which was part of the problem. He just hadn’t realized that it was that obvious.

“It’s not like you noticed either,” Miles deflected. “You didn’t realize until after we already started dating!”

Larry stroked his goatee, looking thoughtful. “Well, yeah. But looking back on it, it was totally obvious.”

Miles attempted a scowl, but his reflection in the mirror displayed something more like a pout. “Regardless, defacing a bathroom isn’t the best way of communicating feelings.”

“Hmmm, you’re right. Alrighty, new tactic!” Larry snapped his fingers and dashed out of the building. Miles stumbled outside after him, but he was already out of sight. Muttering about Larry’s half-baked ideas, he settled onto a bench and decided to wait. At least this way he wouldn’t be implicated in Larry’s crimes when he inevitably got caught.

He was starting to sober up enough to realize that he could just leave Larry behind at any point if he wanted to, but by then Larry was already scurrying back to him with a bright orange traffic cone that he plucked from somewhere.

"Here," Larry said, and plopped the cone in front of him. Miles scowled at it.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"It's practice, Edgey, duh!" Larry cried, rolling his eyes as if Miles was the idiot here. "Just pretend this cone is Nick and say some sappy stuff!"

The cone sat innocently on the ground before him, looking a little scuffed and squished. He supposed it did have an abstract similarity to Phoenix, if he allowed himself to think of that absurd-yet-charming hairstyle as one big, orange spike. 

"Wright," he began, and Larry groaned. 

"Ugh WRONG, Edgey! You barely started and you've already messed it up! You've gotta say his real name, not 'Wright' like you're his professor or something. See, like this!" He clasped his hands together and crooned, "Oh Nicky~"

"That's even weirder!" Miles cried, disgusted.

“Whatever, just start over, man!”

"P-Phoenix," he stammered. No amount of alcohol would make this feel any less embarrassing.

"Not bad, not bad," Larry said, nodding. "The glare's a little intense but I think Nick's into it, so keep doing what you're doing."

“Phoenix, I…” Miles swallowed and buried his head in his hands. “I can’t confess to a cone.”

“Sure you can! It’s easy! You just say the words, duh!”

“It’s not that simple, Larry!” he snapped. “Not-Not for me, at least.”

Larry gave him a look that was alarmingly close to pity. “Well, baby steps!” he chirped. “We’ll work on it next session with Larry, Doctor of Love!”

Larry stuffed the cone into Miles’s hands as they finally made their way off campus, and Miles was determined not to take any more of his so-called advice if he could help it.

Phoenix was still up when they returned home, much to Miles’ shame. The alcohol only made him sparkle brighter in Miles’ inebriated eyes, which he felt was incredibly unnecessary. He slipped past Phoenix without incident and mumbled something about going to sleep, then crashed onto the bed and didn’t stir until he awoke the next morning with a hazy headache and his mouth tasting like sand.

He spent the rest of the day slogging through classes and work at the Prosecutor’s Office. Lana gave him more than a few odd glances when she caught him staring into space every time she passed by his desk, and sent him home early with empty hands and a directive to take it easy.

Coming home today was much easier than it had been last night. It might have been his imagination, but Miles felt as though he could finally look at Phoenix for longer than two seconds without his heart or stomach reacting strangely. Perhaps Larry’s bizarre courage training came in use after all.

He was sitting on the couch, rereading the first paragraph of his textbook for what felt like the fiftieth time, when Phoenix placed a steaming bowl of food on the coffee table in front of him.

“What is this?”

“Oh uh,” Phoenix rubbed his neck. “It’s called nikujaga. It’s just meat and potatoes, really. My mom used to make it a lot, and it seemed pretty easy so...”

“Hm.” It certainly seemed hearty and delicious, if the sweet-savory smell emanating from the potatoes was anything to go by. Phoenix had gotten surprisingly good at cooking over the last few months. “And what inspired you to try her recipe?”

“Nothing special,” Phoenix replied. “You just seemed pretty out of it this morning, so I figured you needed some comfort food.”

Phoenix returned to the kitchen, and Miles was left watching his back as he rinsed the pot in the sink.

How will he know?

His mouth was dry and his heart was lodged in his throat, but maybe like this, to Phoenix’s back, he could manage to tell him.

“Phoenix, I…”

“Hm?” Phoenix turned towards him with the full force of those shining eyes again, and what right did he have to look at him like that, as if he were anywhere near that idealistic boy he used to be.

I can’t, he thought helplessly, and the words died in his throat. “This...it’s good.”

Phoenix smiled softly. “I’m glad,” he said. “You need to take better care of yourself, you know.”

Miles’ chest squeezed tight, and anything he might have said in that moment was swept away by an overwhelming rush of emotion. He stared down at the stew and tried to remember how to breathe normally.

Phoenix’s voice pulled him out of his stupor. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“You came home drunk, Miles. You never drink.” He frowned and glanced over at something near the door. “And you were hugging that cone.”

Miles remembered, regretfully. “I can let loose sometimes,” he argued, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

Phoenix eyed him warily. “Are you sure?” He cast his eyes down and swallowed nervously. “Because if...if it’s something I did…”

Miles had to shut this line of questioning down immediately. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Phoenix blinked. “H-huh?”

“I think I will go to sleep now, actually,” he went on, before Phoenix had the chance to continue his train of thought. "Goodbye. Er, goodnight." 

He hurriedly packed his half-eaten dinner into a tupperware and all but ran to the bedroom, where he wrapped himself up in the sheets and willed himself to stop being so foolish. This shouldn’t be an issue, he told himself fiercely. We’re already in a relationship why am I acting like this?!

It shouldn’t have been a problem, except that it was, and Phoenix had noticed. And worse, thought it was some fault of his own, when the only problem lay in Miles and his inability to say things when they mattered to him. It’s just Phoenix, he berated. We’ve been roommates before, and we’ve been dating for months now, and nothing should be any different. 

But despite his best efforts to calm down, he was still awake by the time Phoenix came to bed. He lay very still and tried to give off the impression of being deeply asleep as Phoenix carefully navigated around the room in the darkness. He circled around to Miles’ side of the bed and seemed to at last find the pants that he was looking for. Then there was a long, silent pause in which Miles was certain Phoenix was watching him sleep, and which tested his ability to keep his eyes closed in a natural manner. What is he doing??

He felt a hand gently brush his bangs off his cheek, and it took all of his willpower to keep his breath from hitching. Then Phoenix sighed, a soft, wavering exhale that sent a sharp stab through Miles’ chest, and the only remaining indication of his presence was the dip in the mattress as he settled into place with an empty stretch of bedsheets between them.

“Hey,” Phoenix said, stopping Miles on his way out to class. Miles held his breath as he waited for Phoenix to continue. He felt as though Phoenix kept leaving long pauses like this on purpose lately, as though considering whether now was the right time to delve into confrontations such as why aren’t you acting normally or what’s been wrong with you lately. But instead of any of those things he said, “You haven’t seen Nyano today, have you?”

Miles relaxed with relief. “No, I haven’t.”

“Hmm, weird,” he said, frowning. “She doesn’t usually miss breakfast…”

“Larry might know,” Miles suggested, and headed out the door before the usual nerves had a chance to kick in.

But Larry, as Miles found out not long after he had gotten out of his last class and settled in at the library for the rest of the afternoon, did not know. 

His phone buzzed on the table, indicating Larry as the caller. He ignored it and let it go to voicemail - Larry could text if it was truly something urgent, which he doubted was the case. But his phone vibrated again immediately after, and again after that, even after Miles cut the ringtone short in an attempt to send the message that he was neither interested nor available to chat. Larry wasn’t taking no for an answer, it seemed. Gritting his teeth, he begrudgingly decided to get whatever it was over with.

"EDGEY IT'S AN EMERGENCY!” Larry shouted into Miles’ ear. “NYANO’S MISSING!”

A few students at the nearby tables glared at him, which he valiantly ignored. “Missing? Are you sure?”

“I’m POSITIVE! Nick and I’ve been searching all over the complex since this morning. Her food’s still untouched and everything!”

Under usual circumstances, Miles would have wished Larry the best of luck and left it at that. But Phoenix loved the stupid cat, and he found himself saying, "I'll find her."

“I knew you could do it Edgey! You’re a lifesaver!” Larry said. “I’ve been thinking, what if she went back to her clan? Maybe you could start there?”

“Her...what?”

“Her clan, Edgey! Her family! You remember where we found her, right?”

“By the studio art building, wasn’t it?”

“See, I knew you had the brains around here! Good luck!” Larry cried, and hung up.

Miles sighed and packed his unopened books back into his bag. He didn’t think he could get much studying done on a guilty conscience anyways. Perhaps this was the one thing he could manage to do for Phoenix that he wouldn’t invariably mess up.

He made his way towards the arts department on campus, which was composed of a cluster of small buildings arranged around a courtyard. Miles scanned the area for any sign of cats and spotted an orange tail slinking into the bushes behind one of the buildings. Perhaps that was the “clan” Larry mentioned. 

He stooped down and peered into the bushes, trying to get a better look at the strays. He caught a glimpse of orange and white and brown, but beyond that it was too dark to see whether any of them sported Nyano’s grey striped fur. 

“Nyano?” he said tentatively, feeling more than a little foolish for doing so. But in response he heard a soft meow coming from somewhere above him.

He whipped his head upwards and there she was - sitting on top of the studio art building with her tail tucked over her paws. She meowed again and cocked her head down at him with a look of mild indifference.

The building was only one story - not terribly high, but tall enough to discourage him from climbing up to reach her. Besides, if she had gotten herself up there in the first place Miles was certain she could find a way to get herself back down.

“Nyano, get down from there,” he called, but the cat ignored him and pretended to be interested in inspecting the roof tiles instead.

“Nyano!” he said again, a little more sharply this time. It was to no avail, and he muttered a curse under his breath. Maybe if he had indulged her spoiled mewlings she wouldn’t be acting so obtuse right now.

“Miles?” 

He stiffened at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice, and sure enough there was Phoenix, who had just parked his bike and was beginning to walk over. Miles reacted as he imagined anyone would in his situation, which was to decide that climbing onto the rooftop was truly the best option for catching a disobedient cat after all. He spied a ladder leaning against the side of the building and dashed towards it, nearly knocking over a collection of half-empty paint cans as he did so.

“Miles, what are you doing?!”

“Don’t…come up here!” he said after hoisting himself onto the roof. “I have everything under control.”

He hurried forward as quickly as his shaking legs would allow, but cats were more suited to navigating heights (and had no mortal fears, besides). Like lighting, Nyano leapt into a nearby tree and flicked her tail triumphantly. God dammit!

“H-Hey!” Phoenix cried. His voice sounded closer than it should have, and Miles saw that he had clambered up after him. He stood up slowly and thrust a wobbly finger at Miles. “You can’t keep avoiding me!”

“O-Objection! I can easily do so if I wanted to, as evidenced by the fact that we haven’t really seen each other over the past week.” After reconsidering what he had just said, he added, “And I’m not avoiding you!”

“Wha- That's- That’s a blatant contradiction!”

“Just get off the roof, Wright!” He turned back around and glared at Nyano, which helped him regain some of his breath. Being up this high was dizzying, and had absolutely nothing to do with Phoenix’s presence. “I told you, I can handle this myself!”

"Miles, please, just talk to me! Is this about the dumplings? Because I'm really really sorry, I thought they were Larry's and you know how awful he is about wasting food and I get really hungry sometimes so I figured it was fine and I really didn't know they were yours at the time -"

"No, it's not - I don't care about the dumplings. I've known it was you for a while."

"What?" Phoenix said. "And you were going to tell me when?"

“Whenever you were going to tell me that you were the one eating them.”

“Agh, I knew it,” he groaned. “So you are mad at me.”

“I’m not mad about anything,” Miles cried, frustrated. The cat was being stubborn, Phoenix was misinterpreting things as usual, and he did not need to deal with this when he was trying to concentrate on keeping his footing. 

“Then what is it?” Phoenix said, and he sounded so wretched that Miles’ heart pierced with guilt. “I can’t change anything if you don’t talk to me or tell me what’s wrong or -”

“I love you too,” he blurted. It was hasty and haphazard and not how he wanted this to go at all. Damn Larry and his idiotic advice. 

Phoenix froze, blinking blankly at nothing. His mouth worked around the shape of a few words, but couldn’t seem to remember how to form them properly.

“...Too?” he finally repeated. “Miles, you...were you…” And then he started giggling, with manic, wheezing little laughs. “After all this time?”

Miles’ face burned. “D-Don’t laugh!” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just -” Phoenix took a breath and steadied himself. “Say it again?”

“What?”

“Say it again,” he repeated, and looked up at Miles with those warm brown eyes that never failed to stir up a writhing mess in the pit of his stomach. Except this time his nerves fluttered into a dizzying sort of reckless courage, and he strode forward and pulled Phoenix into his arms and kissed him with the weight of all those words he hadn’t been able to say before.

“I love you too, you ridiculous boy,” he murmured when they drew apart.

“Wow," Phoenix breathed, and Miles would never comprehend how one person could hold so much love in their face as Phoenix did for him now. "Say it again."

"You ridiculous boy," Miles said, as the uncomfortable squirming feeling began to creep back.

"'Ridiculous'," Phoenix echoed. "You're the ridiculous one."

But Phoenix didn't have any ground to stand on and they both knew it, not with the way he was currently melting into Miles' arms.

“Ahaha oh god,” Phoenix said weakly. “The ground is spinning.”

“I told you coming up here was a bad idea.”

“Oh I don’t regret it. Not if it meant hearing you say that.” He looked up with adoration absolutely shining from his eyes, and even though it wreaked havoc in Miles’ chest he found that he couldn’t look away. “Were you really worried about it that much?”

“I'm not good at showing my love for you," Miles admitted, "not like you are. I didn’t know how to tell you and I got...overwhelmed.”

“God I can’t believe…” He laughed again and ran his fingers through his hair. “All this was because you love me?”

Miles could have fallen back into the pattern of the usual sarcastic counter, but he opted for honesty instead. “So much that my heart aches with it.”

“A-Ah,” Phoenix stammered, blushing furiously, and Miles felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing that Phoenix could be flustered by the same few words coming from him just as easily as the other way around. Perhaps he could get used to saying things like this more often after all.

“NIIIIIICK!” 

Larry was standing on the ground and stared up at them with a pout on his face. “Nick, I thought I called you first! Why’d you take so long?! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!”

“‘How it was supposed to go’...?” Miles repeated.

“And Edgey, you were supposed to rescue him, duh!! What was all that courage training for?!”

“'Courage training'?” said Phoenix.

“Larry…” Miles said, his voice dangerously low. “Did you concoct this absurd plan?”

“Oop!” Larry’s hands flew up to his mouth.

But it was all beginning to make sense - the timing of the phone call, Larry’s hints at Nyano’s whereabouts, his certainty that she would be lurking near the studio art building. “Do you mean to tell me that you purposefully released Nyano as part of some elaborate set-up?!”

“I knew she’d be fine! I thought Nick would find her first and get stuck up there, so that you’d have the chance to swoop in and save him!”

"Wha- He could have been hurt, Larry!"

“Well whatever, all’s well that ends well, right?” Larry said, giving them two thumbs up. At the sight of Larry, Nyano deftly leapt from her perch and raced towards him, twining herself through his legs. 

“Wait,” Phoenix said. “Why does she like you the best?!”

“I dunno, man, she’s got good taste!”

“It’s because he’s the one who feeds her the most,” Miles muttered. As if on cue, Nyano looked up at Larry and moewed. He squatted down to scratch her head and hand her a treat.

Phoenix laughed. “Well, I can’t be too mad. Even if…” He peered down over the edge and wobbled a bit. “So, uh, maybe getting down will be the hardest part.”

“It’s okay, Edgey will catch you. Right, Edgey?” said Larry, winking up at him.

Miles’ first instinct was to decline with a vehement “no” and a stolid glare, but he swallowed his embarrassment and said, “I will, if you want me to.”

Phoenix laughed again, and the sacrifice was worth it just to see that smile brighten his face. 

It was incredible how so much had changed, but simultaneously nothing at all. He often caught Phoenix looking at him with that same impossible softness, but rather than running away he returned it with equally reverent gazes of his own. It was still awkward, and nerve-wracking, and more than a little terrifying. But he was beginning to appreciate the sensation, even as it felt as though he were falling. It was as if the admission of a few words were all Miles needed to give himself permission to stare openly and unabashedly, now that his feelings were laid bare between them. 

He was doing so now, in the early stretch of morning while Phoenix was still asleep. The angle of the morning sun cast his face in a golden light and washed over that spiky mess of hair, soft and ungelled and entirely unruly. Watching him now, sleeping with such relaxed contentment, Miles didn’t think he would ever comprehend how someone so achingly honest and loyal and sweet could ever love someone like him.

Phoenix gradually blinked awake to find Miles staring back at him, and, with a sleepy smile, pulled him in close.

"I love you," he said, the sound of it rumbling through his chest. And even if the same was true for Miles, there were still days where Phoenix shone too bright and too brilliant, loved too much and too fiercely, and Miles feared that no matter how much of himself he gave in return it could never be enough.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured. 

“Never,” Phoenix vowed without hesitation, “and if anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll fight them.”

“Even if it’s myself?”

“Yeah.” Phoenix kissed his nose. “Especially you.”

Miles ducked his head as that familiar creeping warmth surged in his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me,” Phoenix stated, but his voice pitched upwards in an unspoken question.

“Yes,” said Miles, and kissed him long and lingering in answer. “I do.”