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I always hear everyone say that eyes are the pools of the soul. I didn't know what it meant when I was a child, so I remember I asked mum to tell me.
" It means that a person's personality is reflected in their eyes. Eyes show everything: happiness, sadness, love, hate, pleasure, pain. What you see in someone's eyes is a mirror of what they feel deep inside. "
After hearing that, I started to watch people's eyes and I realised mum was right: every emotion was engraved in the eyes of people.
I looked into hundreds of eyes, but none really caught my attention: I remember practically none of the eyes I studied as a little kid.
Except his .
Miles Edgeworth's eyes, the ones of my childhood friend. The one I was friends with for less than a year, who disappeared from day to day, only leaving invisible traces of our friendship. I remember I cried for days after he left. It hurt.
I stare at the blank paper in front of me. I know he will probably never read it. Even though I now have his address -in Germany, really? And who's this Manfred von Karma anyway?- he has never replied to any of the letters I have already sent. Mum keeps on telling me I should stop, that he forgot about me and our school days.
But I can't.
I mean, he is my friend. And I'm sure he doesn't like Germany. I know him better than anyone else.
The only person who knew him more than me was his father. But he died, and now Miles is all alone in a foreign country, with a man I have never heard about. I'm sure he feels all alone and waits for someone to come pick him up.
I would have gone to him, but I am only 13. I can't drive or take the plane alone.
I sigh after finishing writing the letter. It bears marks of tears.
In a notebook near me, I start to scribble some eyes. And without realising it, I draw his eyes.
A pretty almond shape, thick grey eyelashes, beautiful silver irises. I add his eyebrows, then his entire face, and I draw all sorts of expressions, all the expressions I could witness when he was still there.
How he used to frown with his tongue out when he was focused, his pupil being so small that his eyes looked like drowned in a silver ocean.
The way his eyes grew wider when we were talking about the Steel Samurai; a faint blush would spread on his cheeks and a small smile would appear on his usually stoic face.
The sparkles of determination illuminating his eyes when he was facing injustices; I love this expression the most, it looked like stars dancing in a cloudy sky.
A splash catches my attention and I see that the ink of my drawings has smudged. I touch my eyes: there are tears rolling freely on my cheeks.
And it turns into sobs. Uncontrollable. Painful.
Oh Miles… Come back to me, please…
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Hiccups.
Hiccups.
I do my best to hide them from my mentor's hearing. If I am caught crying, who knows what will happen to me? Another " lesson " where I end up covered in bruises and scratches?
Now is not the time to get scared. Breathe in, breathe out, Miles.
I reach towards my bedside table and open the drawer. Under piles of books, I find the letter, the only letter I was able to hide and keep. My mentor would throw away any letter addressed to me. But I managed to save this one.
I silently unfold it and start reading it.
" How are you, Miles? ", " When I am older, I will come and find you ", " please reply to me… ", " do you still remember me? ", " I miss you… "
Tears threaten to come back so I turn the paper around to see the drawing Phoenix did on the other side of the letter: him and me, holding hands, a field of sunflowers behind us.
Sunflowers… It reminds me of his smile.
I close my eyes and try my best to remember his face and this particular grin.
His smile was so earnest, pure and happy. It had the power to make me joyful when I was having bad days. It could brighten any sad moments.
Do you still have that beautiful smile, Phoenix?
You know, this smile where your eyes squint, your cheeks become pink and your white teeth are all out, like diamonds shining in a dark cave.
Dad used to tell me that a smile could save a life.
I would trade so many things to see this smile once again.
I wish he could save me…
I turn in my bed and hide my face in the pillow: the tears flow free and the sobs are muffled by the thick fabric.
I imagine Phoenix beside me, holding my hand, hugging me and telling me everything will be alright.
I can imagine his voice, soft and full of hope, saying things like " we'll get through it together, Miles! ". He would smirk at me before jumping on me to tickle me and make me laugh. He would beam at me when I begged him to stop.
His fingers in my hair would play with the locks. He would giggle at my blush and then, maybe…
Maybe he would kiss my forehead…?
And then we would fall asleep in my bed, tangled with each other, far from reality.
In our own little world, lost in each other.
A hiccup a bit too loud alerts my mentor. He slams the door and finds the letter.
The slap on my cheek hurts.
But not as much as his letter, Phoenix's letter, being ripped right in front of me.
The happy drawing turns into painful confetti flying around and landing on the floor.
When he leaves, locking the door behind him, trapping me into my own room, the tears roll harder and stronger.
But without a noise.
The only thing left I have from Phoenix is the memory of his smile.
Maybe I will see it again, one day…?