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Guilty.
Blaise Debeste was found guilty under Sebastian Debeste's prosecution. The trial was over.
He was congratulated by… well, everyone. Mr. Shields, Ms. Courtney, even Ms. von Karma said he'd done a good job. It all passed in a haze. Vaguely, he remembered leaving his red jacket behind somewhere. It didn't matter; he'd been planning on getting rid of it anyways.
Now, he was outside of the courtroom. It was a cloudy day, sun beginning to set over the horizon, and he had no idea what to do.
He felt completely numb. He felt nothing. Which was strange, considering how easily he usually cried. Meh. He couldn't find it in himself to care much right now.
The thought of going home barely crossed his mind before the idea made him physically flinch. I can't go back there. Not so soon. So, almost absentmindedly, he just started walking.
As he travelled, he realized that part of him already missed the familiar weight of the jacket on his shoulders. Yeah, it had been… well, weighing down on him, both physically and mentally, but it had been… comforting? It had been a symbol that he was the best.
Well, it didn't matter anymore. It had been fake, anyway. It had all been fake.
Somewhere along the way, he had ended up in the prosecutor's office. He didn't remember exactly when, or why he was coming here, but before he knew it, he walked through the door marked with his own name.
He couldn't help but finally notice how bare his office was. He had barely decorated it at all, other than his wall of awards.
Oh. Wait. The wall of awards.
Awards from Themis, all congratulating him on another speech done well, or another test completed perfectly. Pictures of him smiling, believing he was actually doing something right, while Blaise frowned in the background. Even a few pictures with the one friend he had made-- what was his name, Piano Gavin? Sebastian had always called him Piano. He didn't remember exactly why. It had been too long since they'd talked.
Well, he had already thrown out his jacket. He might as well get rid of these too.
One by one, he pulled everything off the wall; first the awards, then his pictures with Blaise, and, after some hesitation, his photos with Gavin came down too. (He couldn't quite bring himself to put them in the garbage yet, though.) He only stopped at his diploma.
His diploma. Other than his badge, one of the only things that said he was a prosecutor. Just a couple months ago, he had marveled at how easy it had been to get this.
He knew now that wasn't because he had worked hard for it. It was fake, just like everything else.
But, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to take it down. The action felt too… absolute.
He realized that he didn’t know why he was doing this in the first place. Maybe, he had hoped for… um, something? He wasn't sure what. Some sense of release? Closure, maybe? That didn't make sense. He should've felt closure when his father was declared guilty. That should've been the end of it.
Well, at least he could still find contradictions. Even if he felt absolutely nothing, right now.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, making him flinch. Pops. Pops found him, and now he'd be-
"Sebastian?" That wasn't Blaise's voice. Of course it wasn't. He was in jail. "Are you in there?"
It took him a moment to place the voice. Mr. Edgeworth. He must've finished up the case he was working on, the one he had to leave for.
He didn't reply, not really wanting to talk to anybody right now. The door slowly creaked open, and Mr. Edgeworth peeked in anyways.
For a minute, he just glanced around his office, looking at all the awards that had been discarded. Sebastian almost asked him to leave, but part of him refused to voice that thought, for more reasons than one.
Edgeworth's gaze finally settled on him. "Sebastian. I heard you won the trial."
"...Yeah. I did." It had been the first time he'd spoken since the trial ended. His voice cracked.
For a moment, he simply observed Sebastian. He couldn't even begin to guess what the man was thinking.
Then, he shut the door behind him. He took a step forwards, holding his arms out. After a small moment of fear, he realized that he was offering a hug.
A moment of hesitation.
His words from the trial echoed in Sebastian’s mind. ‘If you have the courage to stand up... I will show you the way. And if you cannot do it alone, then we shall do it together.’
I think I can trust Mr. Edgeworth.
Then, barely even conscious of what he was doing, he walked into his arms, suddenly desperate for the comfort.
Edgeworth held him tight, combing one hand through his hair. His words were softly mumbled, almost imperceptibly quiet.
"...You must be so tired."
And that was all it took.
Suddenly, nothing turned into everything, all at once, and he was completely overwhelmed with emotions; loss, fear, sadness, guilt, and a million others he couldn't even begin to put into words.
A choked sob finally found its way out of his throat, and more followed as he buried his face in Edgeworth's shoulder. It felt like it had been ages since he was hugged. The warmth was so, so nice.
For a long time, Sebastian cried. Edgeworth didn't leave his side.