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Even when she was dating Diego Armando, Mia was aware of how deep her denial ran.
Sure, they’d sit on the couch together, hold hands and talk about their futures, hers full of discarded dreams while his remained as bitter and black as the coffee he drank. They’d sleep in the same bed, have breakfast together, talk. They’d never had sex, but that was Diego’s decision as much as hers. His cases would drag and the free time they had was spent reverently, exchanging brief kisses and joking about whatever came to mind.
It would have been fine if Diego decided to keep his mouth shut.
“Kitten, do you ever think about… Doing more?”
Mia let out a surprised laugh and placed her mug of coffee down on the counter. “Any more and I think my head will burst. You’d think being unemployed was a walk in the park, but it’s its own kind of torture, let me tell you.”
Diego didn’t smile, taking a long sip of his coffee. “That’s not what I meant.”
She reached over and pressed her fingertips to his forearm. This quiet wasn’t like him, tense and building. Like he’d explode if she pressed into him wrong. “I can’t read minds, Diego.”
“With the way you handled yourself in court, I could’ve been fooled.” He pursed his lips. Whatever it was wasn’t going to come out easy. “I meant, with me.”
Mia blinked slowly. Sure, they spent a lot of quiet nights in, but she never liked being spoiled. That was one of the reasons she’d gravitated to Diego in the first place - he never went out of his way to make big gestures, or made a big deal out of anniversaries or labels. That was how Mia liked it. It was, she’d assumed, how Diego liked it too.
When she didn’t respond, Diego filled the silence. “It’s just, most people in our situation-”
“Our situation?”
Diego paused. “You don’t love me, do you?”
Mia instinctively drew her hand back and sucked in a breath. She almost wanted to laugh but thought better of it. “Well- We haven’t- I mean. We haven’t talked about it, right?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she tried again. “How do you feel?”
Diego shook his head. “That’s not what we’re talking about, kitten.”
“Sure it is.” Mia folded her arms. “I’m not putting my feelings out there if you’re going to leave me hanging, Diego. That’s not fair.”
“Not fair, huh?” He didn’t look up. “Fine. You want me to talk, I’ll talk.”
Mia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as if it would dispel the headache she felt creeping in. That was his way of saying that it was up to her to pull the words out of him.
“Alright then, if you’re so eager to talk, tell me what’s going through your head.” She said. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“It’s that you don’t want to do anything.” Diego grunts. “Listen, don’t laugh. Do you ever think about kissing me?” He stops her before she can open her mouth. “Really think about it, okay?”
In all honesty, she’d never really seen the appeal in kissing. Sure, it was nice. She liked making Diego smile against her closed mouth, liked the friendly peck on the cheek when he left for work. Surely she’d thought about it at least once… “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, I do.” Mia snapped. “Of course I do.”
Diego hummed out a breath and leaned against the kitchen counter. “How about sex? Do you ever think about sex?”
That was a little more tricky to answer. She’d thought about having sex with vague anxiety, wondering if she’d be any good, hoping that he wouldn’t ask. It wasn’t that Diego was unattractive, definitely not that. She just… Didn’t see much point in it. She was stressed enough as it was. “Er…”
“C’mon, I know you’re not a horny teenage boy-”
“Have you ever met a real-life woman?” Mia deadpanned.
Diego wasn’t deterred. “I don’t know what you actually want.”
Mia just stared at him. This whole conversation was making her stomach turn. She tried to convince herself it was butterflies, but she knew better. She always had to know better.
“I think I’m gonna head back to the office,” Diego refused to meet her eyes, “see if I can’t close up some old files.”
“Diego-”
“I think you should think about this,” Diego said. He already had his jacket pulled on. “About what you want. If I can give it to you.”
Mia fell silent. Whatever complaint she was going to make died before it had the chance to form. She wanted to scream, but that wouldn’t come either. All she could do was stand there and watch him leave, coffee left half-drunk on the side.
Shit.
After making arrangements to call Maya the next day, Mia kicked off her shoes and fell flat on the bed, face buried in her arms and Diego’s words still echoing in her ears. You don’t love me, do you?
She threw herself up on her hands and knees and blinked away the fogginess. Focus. That’s all she had to do. The only time she would cry was when all this was over.
You don’t love me, do you?
What kind of question was that? They’d only been dating for seven months. Who fell in love after seven months? Love was the kind of thing that happened to people in their sixties, after years of career and partnership and sedating kisses.
Maybe he meant it in a different way. She doubted that what Fawles had with Hawthorne was anywhere near love. How could it be, with someone so young? And someone so-
She willed the image away. Later.
Mia flipped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. His expectations didn’t seem so ridiculous, when she really thought about them. As unrealistic as TV couples were, she’d never seen any go quite as long without sex as they had. But Diego never seemed to mind, and neither did she - they just weren’t sexual creatures. It wasn’t something they did.
Well. Diego apparently was. Did. Whatever.
They’d fallen into this relationship-thing pretty naturally. They’d laughed over dinner and teased each other relentlessly about some failing or another. Flirting felt easier with him than it ever had, so she reckoned that counted as some kind of attraction. Hell, it's not like Diego was ugly.
You don’t love me, do you?
She sighed. None of this was going to be easy, was it?
She woke up still in her clothes with a blanket thrown over her. Diego was home then.
She sighed and unclipped her bra from under her shirt, casting it aside in the laundry hamper. A fresh change could wait, but she doubted Diego could.
She padded her way into the kitchen, watching as the person who loved her fiddled with the buttons on the coffee machine. He wasn’t pressing them in, more feeling the shape of them like he was committing the shape to memory. It was a moment of peace that she’d stumbled in on, caught in his thoughts on a typical Thursday morning.
She could feel the control on her life slipping. “Morning.”
He didn’t look up. Great start.
“I’ve thought. About what you said.”
“Oh?” He drummed his fingers on the counter. Weirdly, the slow, steady beat almost lined up with her breaths.
“I like it when you’re here.”
Diego snorted. That was something, at least.
“And I don’t like being alone.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” Mia couldn’t help the bitter edge to her words. “But you haven’t exactly been forthcoming about how you feel either.”
Diego made a noncommittal hum.
“Are you angry?”
Diego finally met her eyes, and immediately his face softened into a smile. “No.”
“Okay.” Mia’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, that’s- that’s good.”
“Are you angry?”
“A little,” Mia said, “but I’m trying not to be.”
“Let the steam out. It’s not good to keep it all shut inside, or you’ll just blow your cap.” A moment later, he’s beside her and pressing a cup of fresh coffee into her hand. “That’s one of my rules.”
Mia chuckled, holding the mug close to her chest. “I’m sorry about-”
“Forget it. I was being pushy.” Diego smiled. “I’ve just gotta know one thing, and then we can bench this.”
She nodded. Full attention, stood straight. Confident. She needed to perform it to be it.
“Do you like being with me?”
It only took her a moment to think. That was the first easy question he’d asked her. “Yes.”
“Good. I like being with you.” Diego grinned, full and toothy, the first since she’d seen him yesterday. “So we’re okay.”
It wasn’t a question, but Mia answered him anyway. “Yeah.” She grinned back. “We’re okay.”
The past few months had been a blur. Dahlia Hawthorne, Mr. Wright, the bottle necklace-
Diego. Diego wasn’t going to wake up.
Grief wasn’t a stranger to her, but she wasn’t used to the rawness of it all. The swift kick to the gut, the dizziness, the weight behind her eyes.
Mostly, she just felt angry. Angry and vengeful, even with Hawthorne taken care of.
She visited Diego’s wing a lot in those first few weeks, but it didn’t stay that way. Eventually, the journey became too much and she’d find herself turning back before she’d even gotten halfway. Mia found squashing the guilt much easier than every other feeling that plagued her, and so she made herself busy with little trouble.
Wright had helped a lot with that: calling on late nights and visiting her office whenever he had a free period. She wanted to be annoyed by all the attention but found herself grateful for the interruption. Mostly it was to talk about Dahlia while Mia offered him condolences through gritted teeth, but as time went on they spoke about other things - Wright’s friend dramas, his complaints about law textbooks, one time Miles Edgeworth of all people. Wright seemed to have an endless supply of things to say, enough that Mia would be able to sit back and listen for hours with a gentle smile on her face. As much as it pained her to admit it, she needed him as much as he needed her.
One night, while Wright was in the middle of a long-winded story about his elementary school, Mia forgot to add her usual encouraging hums to goad him along.
“Mia? Are you alright? You seem a bit off.”
Mia pulled herself up from her living room sofa and reached around to turn the TV off. It had been humming quietly in the background for a while, unwatched and fizzing from the static. The quiet without it was unbearable, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that her landlord would put up with another electric bill that large.
“Do you want me to come over or-?”
“Phoenix, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, anything. What is it?”
“Do-” She gnawed at her lower lip. Nervous habit. “Do you ever worry about where your life is going?”
Wright was quiet for a little too long. “I mean, doesn’t everyone?”
“I just mean- Well, you have plans.” She tried to keep her tone steady, but it wasn’t very successful. “Things you hope will happen.”
“Honestly?” Wright laughed a little. “With everything that’s happened, with Dolly, I… I’m just trying to focus on my career. My friends.”
“And by friends, you mean…?” She didn’t have to finish. Wright had told her all about Edgeworth, the little boy turned demon prosecutor, and Mia knew first hand just how ruthless he was. It didn’t stop Wright from being so stupidly optimistic. Mia wished she still had that in her.
“I know you think I’m naive, but I know Edgeworth. He must be- He must be hurting, and no one’s doing anything to help him.” Wright’s breath came out shaky. “I don’t want anyone to feel like that.”
“But especially him.” Mia pursed her lips. Her stomach twisted, chest heavy with the weight of something old. Something that made her blood run cold.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Mia snapped back to reality and smiled. “I’m fine. I think it’s just been a long day.”
Wright snorted. “You work too much.”
“Or maybe you just slack off.” Mia bit back.
She just knew Wright was grinning. “Go to sleep.”
“You’re not my mother.” Mia laughed, letting the pull of sleep lead her back to her room. “Goodnight, Wright.”
“Night, Chief!”
The line went dead just as her head hit the pillow, as the night dragged her into the best sleep she’d had in weeks.
Gradually, the pain got manageable. She built her reputation up with both the prosecution and the defense, with Prosecutor Payne gearing up for early retirement after their most recent battle. Her name became legend among attorneys, but she didn’t make a habit of bragging to anyone.
(Okay, sometimes she’d big herself up in the mirror. Maybe there were a few superman poses involved. Sue her.)
Phoenix passed the bar, not that Mia had any doubts about him. He bought a crisp blue suit, complete with a red tie and a shiny new badge, though it wouldn’t stay that way if he kept taking it off to show it to every stranger on the street.
She took him out to dinner that night, brand new suit and all, and told him to get anything he wanted for a reasonable fee. The way Phoenix’s eyes lit up, wide and childlike, was almost comical. It was like eating with Maya.
The waiter was nice enough, even if he kept directing his questions at Phoenix rather than her. Phoenix, for his part, tried to seem confident in his questions, but it was clear that he had no idea what he was supposed to be asking. Mia was willing to bet he didn’t know the difference between Red and Rose, nevermind Savagnin Blanc and Chardonnay.
She placed a hand on Phoenix’s arm to stop him from stuttering. The waiter glanced between them, a knowing look in his eyes. “We do a two-for-one special for couples if you’re interested?”
Phoenix looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, but Mia was quick to speak. “Sounds delightful. Could we have a few minutes to decide?”
“Of course, madam. I’ll fetch you some water for the table.”
Once the waiter was out of earshot, Phoenix let out a sigh of relief. “Couples special?”
“You’re not the one paying.” Mia grinned at the flush on Phoenix’s face. “What’s the matter, Wright? Scared I’ll pull a move on you?”
The joke loosened some of the tension in Phoenix’s posture, but not all of it. “That would be terrifying. You’re lethal when you want something.”
“You don’t need to worry, trust me.” Her smile softened, and they settled into a relaxed silence when they looked over the menus.
“...Mia?”
“Mm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Mia glanced up and locked eyes with Phoenix, who had probably been staring at her for some time. Not so comfortable silence then. “Depends. What is it?”
Phoenix reached behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile plastered on. “How come you’ve never… Y’now…”
Mia blinked at him, knowing exactly what he was going to say but for some reason feeling spiteful that he was about to ask it.
“I mean, I’ve never heard you talk about guys.”
Mia couldn’t hold back a snort. “I’m a pretty private person.”
“Yeah, but. Whenever I talked about… About her, you always seemed a bit. Put out.” Phoenix’s face was flaming. “I don’t think it’s jealousy or anything-”
“You’re right about that much.” Mia laced her hands together on her lap, trying to figure out exactly what angle Phoenix was trying to play here. He was one nosey friend, true, but his eyes were darting everywhere. Like he was nervous.
God, he wasn’t trying to ask her out, was he?
“Listen, it’s totally not my place to say, but… Are guys just…” He peeped up from under his eyelashes, barely getting the words out. “Not your thing?”
Mia felt her lips part as she tried to form a reply, but no words came. The air around her suddenly felt a whole lot thicker. “...What gave you that impression?”
“I don’t know, I just…” Phoenix shook his head. “I just wondered if maybe… You were like me.”
Mia had no idea what to make of any of this. She was pretty sure that Phoenix just came out to her. She was also pretty sure that she was supposed to say something encouraging here.
“-But I haven’t told any of my family yet and honestly I don’t think they need to know because they’re not really a big part of my life anymore-”
Oh God, Phoenix was talking.
“-and I thought that maybe since you’re my friend-”
“Phoenix?”
“...Yes?”
Mia reached over and gently intertwined her hand with Phoenix’s. “Thank you for telling me.”
Phoenix sank into his seat and squeezed her hand. “You have no idea-”
“Are you two about ready to order?”
They both jolted and looked up at the waiter from earlier, who was looking at the two of them with something close to mirth. He set a bottle of red down on the table.
“Sorry, could we have another couple of minutes?” Phoenix squeaked, his whole body stiff.
“I see the mouse has finally found his voice.” The waiter said. “I’ll be back in another few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Mia said tersely, trying to pry herself free from Phoenix’s grip.
Once the waiter was safely out of view, Mia yanked her hand away with a little laugh. “You have a death grip when you’re nervous.”
“I’ve heard.” Now it was just the two of them, Phoenix has adopted a more bashful grin. “Hopefully whatever guy I end up dating won’t mind it.”
“I’m sure Miles Edgeworth will be thrilled.” Mia teased, watching the colour rise on Phoenix again. He really was an easy target.
“It’s not- It’s not like that.” Phoenix spluttered, now thoroughly invested in his menu. “I haven’t even seen him since we were kids.”
“He’s gay too, from what I hear.” Mia chirped. “I could put in a good word for you.”
The atmosphere shifted. Phoenix made an effort to bring his eyes back up to her. Strong. Focused. She’d taught him well. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” To keep her hands busy, Mia poured herself her first and last glass of wine for the night. Her shaking hand betrayed her.
Phoenix’s eyes shone like he’d just solved a puzzle. “I think you do, Ms. Fey.”
Mia raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”
“I think you’re trying to stop me prying into your personal life.” Phoenix picked up one of the forks on the table and pointed it at her, the prongs dangerously close to her skin. “So it’s not as simple as you just being gay, is it?”
Mia stared. Even she was sure at this point, always just sort of assuming that she was straight or maybe bi. But ever since Diego, she hadn’t…
No, it wasn’t just Diego. She knew that much.
“Then enlighten me, Mr. Wright.” Mia shot back, pushing the fork aside. “What am I trying to avoid? You’re a lawyer now. It’s your job to find the truth.”
The uninhibited glee on Phoenix’s face was infectious. “Well, I’d say you were questioning but avoiding. You’re the kind of person who doesn’t shy from a challenge, but you’re also stubborn and quick to convince yourself that there are more important things to worry about.”
“Good start, you’ve told me what I know.” Mia took a long sip of her drink. “Now tell me what I don’t.”
“When I was on trial, every time I talked about Dol- Dahlia, you punched your advisor.”
Mia winced. She should really apologise for that.
“And whenever anyone talks about love or sex, you either seem bored or,” he beamed, “disgusted.”
Mia had never quite thought about it like that, but she couldn’t deny it. Romantic gestures had always freaked her out. And sex, well, she hadn’t exactly gone seeking it out, had she?
“I don’t think you’re straight or gay.” In his excitement, he stabbed the table with the fork and stood up in triumph. “I think you’re neither!”
Silence filled the restaurant. The fork that Phoenix had stabbed into the table leaned back until it flopped out of its newly-made hinges and onto the table with a clatter. Neither of them so much as breathed for a few seconds.
Mia cleared her throat and tugged on Phoenix’s wrist, guiding him back down to his chair. “Make sure you don’t stab the defense desk. They’ll charge you.”
“I’ll-I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoenix said. His voice rang out among the hushed whispers. “Is that what it always feels like?”
“No.” Mia took his hand and placed the fork into it, closing it into his grip. “It’s better.”
On August 3rd, Wright won his first trial. It’s a good feeling, but it must have been even better for him.
It was difficult to get a word in with the rambling his client was giving (Harry Butz? Something like that). But that was okay. They’d have time to talk later that night.
Phoenix looks over to Mia and gives her the warmest grin she’s ever seen on him.
The future looking that little bit brighter, Mia finally let go of her worries and smiled back.