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In truth, Phoenix hasn’t needed to keep his old bike for a long, long time. But it works fine, rust and squeaky chains aside, and he considers himself past the age for new habits.
Getting a car (“not even a good car, Wright, just a car”) was the last thing on his mind. Trucy was old enough to find a ride if she needed one and he doubly made sure that the Agency was within cycling distance of their new apartment. So even though money wasn’t as tight as it used to be, there’s no practical reason to swallow his pride and bike to some dinky LA dealership. There’s not much more to it than that.
Actually, he can think of another reason. It really pisses Miles off, and he can’t part himself from this source of entertainment just yet.
It all started around nine or so years ago when he was still just a greenhorn attorney. This was way back when navigating the years of unspoken history between them sapped all the ease in conversation they had now. Come to think of it, Phoenix was just happy that Miles would speak to him at all. Of course, it wasn’t his fault and Phoenix knew he was trying at the time. Only in retrospect, though.
Asides aside, it was during one of those rare stretches of time where Miles and Phoenix were in the same country that the whole thing began.
“Wright.” Edgeworth seemed to be following behind Phoenix, which didn’t make sense since it would usually be the other way around, but it was what it was. “Congratulations on your work during today’s trial.”
“Oh, uh. Thanks. We wouldn’t have nabbed the killer without you, though.” It was true. They’d worked together brilliantly and it was a nice change of pace from the usual shouting matches.
“Hm, yes. It is our job as guardians of the truth to work towards a just conclusion.”
Miles could be oddly pedantic when he got like this, so Phoenix shifted the conversation. “So... any other trials coming up?”
“Not today, no. This case took up the majority of my time, due to its notoriety.” He guessed mafia involvement would do that, though Phoenix doubted whether he’d ever want to get involved in a case like this again. “What about you, Wright?”
They were approaching the north face of the courthouse now, and Phoenix squinted as his eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight. He could have sworn it was raining just the other day. “Nah, I’m probably just going to head home and call it a day.” Miles rose an eyebrow and took out his pocket watch because of course Miles Edgeworth has a pocket watch. He pursed his lips in a way that was strangely fascinating whilst glancing at Phoenix with a questioning look. Miles looked very close to judging his career choices, and he probably did. Just not verbally. Maybe he was also concerned about Phoenix’s income, or maybe he was debating on whether to make a joke, if that was hardwired into the man’s firmware. In any case, Phoenix never really did find out because he had given a terse goodbye to Edgeworth and was already fiddling with the bike lock when he’d fully processed their brief conversation.
He’d just shoved the lock in his backpack when Edgeworth cleared his throat. Phoenix glanced up to the sight of Miles with his pointer finger up and mouth slightly agape, as if to make a point. “You...have a bike,” he muttered after a long, long minute.
“Oh, yeah.” Phoenix carded a hand through his spikes. Why did he feel like the one on trial here? “I mean....you remember, right? I used to bike everywhere in grade school.” This is one of the rare times he chanced bringing up their shared past, but it did not go as poorly as expected. Instead, Miles simply nodded and lowered his still upright pointer finger.
“I seem to recall something like that, yes.”
“I had to get a new one when I got older, but this one’s been working great since college. The gears need to be oiled and whatnot, but overall great.” Miles still hadn’t given any indication of a response. “Probably doesn’t help that I use old reliable here to travel everywhere, but hey that’s just―”
“Wright.” He shut up immediately. “You are an attorney .”
Phoenix blinked at the prosecutor twice. “Yes. I am an attorney.” And Edgeworth knows perfectly well why, so what was this all about?
Miles folded his arms and tapped an idle finger on his bicep. “I suppose your chosen mode of transportation explains some... things ,” he could have sworn Edgeworth darted his piercing eyes from Phoenix’s dress pants to the offending bike, “but you must admit that it is far from the fastest way to the courthouse. Surely, your investigations could be more efficient were you to take the time out of your clearly busy schedule to acquire a used car at the very least.”
Phoenix hadn’t seen Edgeworth this frustrated at him before, at least outside of court, but maybe he’d already pushed Edgeworth’s idiocy tolerance meter by heading home at two in the afternoon. “Well, I can’t really get a car if I don’t have a driver’s license, right?”
This seemed to be news to Edgeworth because he made a sound as if Phoenix had disproved a fundamental truth of the case. “Nghh...Wright. You do not have a driver’s license.”
It may have been a combination of things, from the slight blush on Edgeworth’s face to the way he seemed to be staring daggers at his bike, but Phoenix laughed harder than he had in years.
Stupid, really. Edgeworth wasn’t doing anything besides stating a fact, albeit in a highly amusing fashion. But it was all so familiar. Miles...a bike...LA’s closest thing to autumn...all of it pricked at a piece of his childhood that he’d thought of as locked behind glass panes, never to emerge and only to be an oft-neglected exhibit of the mind. And the fact that Miles was currently not berating him to bits but instead concerned for his mental and physical well-being was proof that there could be many, many more of these wonderful little moments.
Phoenix hasn’t really asked for much in life, but he thinks he’s afforded this small pleasure. Whether he was biking to work with a piece of toast between his teeth or balancing two grocery bags on the handlebars, the appalled look on Miles’s face never failed to bring him joy. Occasionally, he’ll start up a tirade on the merits of vehicular transportation until the fancy words ran dry or he realized that Phoenix was too busy ogling at him to really be listening.
So really, Phoenix keeps the bike partly out of convenience and partly for shits and giggles. That’s really all there is to it.
…
Okay, maybe it was a bit more complicated than that.
Over the years, Phoenix became more and more comfortable with slipping in small reminders of the brief time they’d known each other as children. As he’d learned, some things were either completely forgotten by Miles or relatively intact. More often than not, it was the former. And he gets it―Phoenix deliberately avoided remembering his rookie days once Kristoph entered the picture. Yet Phoenix’s childhood memories brought comfort in the way that they do for most, especially during those precious six months before December 28th. And so it pleased him to no end when Phoenix recovered a kid-sized bike not too long ago in the attic of his childhood home, and with it long-forgotten memories.
“...Ma said that you, me, and Larry can go to People Park and play Signal Samurai! I dunno what your dad will say but we can’t have the Signal Samurai without Red, ya know?”
Phoenix was still trying to remember how to do long division when a response came. “I...will do my best to make it. Father won’t like having to leave the house on a weekend, though. I suppose I could walk.”
“But you walk everywhere all the time! And it takes really long, too. Can’t you just bike there or something,” he asked while inadvertently doodling the Ruby Ranger all over his math homework.
“Erm—I don’t think that’s possible, Phoenix.”
That made Phoenix pout, even if Miles couldn’t see him through the telephone. “Really? I looked at the map and I don’t think you live that far. I checked that address you gave me and everything! And what fourth grader doesn’t know how to ride a bike?”
“...I plead my right to remain silent.”
A sinking feeling of dread sank in his gut, “Wait, Miles. You actually don’t know how to…?”
A sigh came from the other end of the receiver. “No, I never learned. Laugh at me all you want, but―”
“NOOOOOOOOO!”
“Wha―? Phoenix, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just never thought I could ever teach you anything ? Aw man, now I have to pay for Larry’s ice cream tomorrow.”
“You...had a bet going?”
“No duh,” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “it’s dumb but I thought you knew everything there is to know about everything! Oh, but now I get to teach you something for once! I’ll wash my bike and helmet and everything!”
“Wait Phoenix, you don’t need to―”
“See you tomorrow, Miles! Signal Blue, signing off!”
“Signal Red, signing off, but I never actually―” Phoenix slammed the phone down on the receiver and went to retrieve his bike and helmet from the garage.
(Phoenix never did have a particular aptitude for impulse control.)
Miles miraculously showed up the next morning, in an old pair of jeans because Mr. Edgeworth didn’t want him to skin his knees, never mind the unseasonably warm weather. And anyway, it turned out alright by the end. He was a fast learner even if Phoenix had to catch him a few times, one hand on the handlebar and the other on his shoulder. Larry never let Miles hear the end of it, at least until he got bored and started poking at some infinite-legged insect. The moment he got it though, he really got it. In fact, he got it so much that Miles took off like the wind and didn’t stop for a good few blocks. By that time, his bangs clung to the humid air and his own beloved spikes were drooping and Larry was really supposed to be back by dinner. The three boys did their obligatory Signal Samurai signoff before Larry took off running in the other direction. He had always been a ball of energy.
Miles kicked up the little metal thingy that kept the bike upright and began pushing it forward. He still refused to give back his bike, but Miles was happy so he didn’t really mind. “Well, Miles? How was your first time on a bike?”
His friend hummed to himself for a moment in thought. “I liked going fast...like Signal Red! I’ll ask Father if I can get a red bike so I don’t have to use yours.”
“Are you gonna ask for a bike for Christmas?” Already, Phoenix was imagining easy summers and early autumns spent biking all around town, and going on all the adventures of the Signal Samurai!
Which was a dream quickly deflated. “I don’t think so, Father has another present for me already.” Miles leaned closer and cupped a hand near his lips as if to maintain some sort of secrecy even though they were the only two people in sight. “But the gift’s supposed to be a surprise.”
Phoenix gasped as any fourth-grade boy would at the mere mention of a surprise. “Then I won’t tell anyone else! But you have to tell me what the surprise was after winter break, okay?”
“Okay, it’s settled then.” They continued in comfortable silence, occasionally stopping to check where they were going. Phoenix didn’t really mind—it seemed like Miles was busy thinking about something. So much so, in fact, that he seemed to miss that the bike had slipped from his grasp into Phoenix’s.
Sure enough, Miles turned to him once they’d reached the Edgeworths’ front lawn. Phoenix kicked down the metal thingy again and set the bike near a reddish-brownish tree. “Phoenix…do you know what autumn means?”
He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but Miles looked like he was about to say something really smart. “Not really.” Miles bent over and grabbed a fistful of dried leaves.
“Mother used to love this time of year. She said it was the season right between hot summers and cold winters. There’s a lot of change that goes on between them, and she loved seeing it all happen.” He crunched the leaves between his fingers and watched as the dappled fragments of brown and red caught on the twilight breeze. Phoenix followed the path of one particularly red leaf to the other side of the road. “I know change’s supposed to happen, like when Father and I moved again last year. I was okay with moving around before but…” Miles dropped the last of the leafy bits onto the sidewalk and faced Phoenix once again. “I don’t want fall to happen again. I want to stay here.”
If the boy were anyone else, he might not have noticed the small quiver at the end of that sentence, or how Miles seemed to look everywhere but directly at Phoenix. But of course, he was Phoenix Wright, best friends with Miles Edgeworth, so he noticed.
One thing that Phoenix got a lot was that he gave really nice hugs. Or backbreaking hugs, depending on who you ask. He’d never tried hugging Miles before, but then again he hadn’t had to catch Miles from hitting the ground before today either. Phoenix hoped he would be alright with it because he was already wrapping his arms around Miles without realizing it.
Pressure on the back, but not too much pressure. One hand crossed to the shoulder and the other crossed over firmly. The art of a good hug was one that Phoenix was very comfortable with coming from a large family, and he certainly couldn’t wish for an eternal summer, so Phoenix hoped this art would serve him well here.
“You know that whatever happens, I’ll always be your best friend. Can’t have Signal Blue without Signal Red.” Phoenix smiled into his friend’s sweater. “So you can’t get rid of me that easily, alright?”
Miles seemed to agree as he gave in to Phoenix’s touch. It was an unsure gesture, one in which Miles couldn’t seem to figure out where to orient himself, but Phoenix would say it was the best hug he’d ever gotten. “…Thank you, Phoenix. For teaching me how to ride a bike. And...for being my best friend.”
He was pretty sure that Phoenix should be thanking him, but there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, Phoenix could enjoy a snickerdoodle cookie with the Edgeworths and work out how to save up for a brand new red bike in time for the holidays.
He feels like such an old man for even thinking this, but those were much simpler times. That bike never did make it to Miles, and that was okay. Perhaps Miles blocked out that part of his life after everything, and that was okay too. Phoenix would always keep the brazen expression of that nine-year-old boy and scrunched up leaf bits in his memory.
Maybe there was more to this than just pure stubbornness. However, he couldn’t really be bothered to examine his psyche right now.
Where was he, again?
The sound of several car horns both provided that answer and brought Phoenix back to reality. “Wright, WRIGHT! You have to keep your eyes on the road! Look, you could have hit that stop sign if I hadn’t said something!”
“Oh whoops, sorry Miles.” The garishly scarlet car slowly came to a stop as Phoenix pushed...some button or another. “But cut the student driver some slack, geez.”
Miles sighed with far more emphasis than usual and slouched back into the passenger’s seat. Come to think of it, Phoenix couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man slouch. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this. I have never had the displeasure of knowing someone who will so readily commit the cardinal sin of driving. You are a living legend among attorneys yet you cannot tell the difference between a gas and brake pedal.”
Phoenix blew at the stray lock of hair tickling at his forehead. Wearing the beanie for so long might have permanently left his hair this way, which he didn’t mind except for moments where he actually needed to focus. “Hey, if they really wanted to make it clear they should just make them different colors. Green for go and red for stop. That’s on the manufacturer, not me.”
He could practically feel the frustration radiating in waves as Miles removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Besides, you love me too much to give up on me now.”
That seemed to appease him a little. “....Perhaps.” Miles’ mock indignance was betrayed by a glimmer of a smile. A true, honest-to-god smile.
And for a second, it was almost the fall of 2001 and they were two boys who knew nothing of the world. Phoenix had thought long ago that the two had so little time together then, but by the grace of the powers that be, they were given so much more. He gazed at his ruffled partner with the neck ruffles, the love of his life who happens to be irritatingly particular about the amount of time needed to steep a cup of tea and faux-Japanese children’s media.
(A lot has changed, but being side by side like this felt exactly the same.)
He must have let go of the steering wheel entirely at some point because Miles quite literally shook him from his reverie.
“Wright! EYES ON THE ROAD!”