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It's been a year, Phoenix. Get over him already. He's not coming back.
The words I've been repeating to myself, night after night, day after day, hour after hour, like a broken record that had been left on for too long. Yet, I couldn't take my mind off him, even as I sat on the park bench in the rain, I couldn't take my mind off him.
His blood-red suit that could be spotted from miles away. His dashing haircut with the long bangs that gently framed his face. His cravat. His sharp face and beautiful eyes. The way he'd always think logically and find the truth of every matter. Everywhere I went, I saw Miles Edgeworth.
A tear gathered on my lower eyelash as I thought about him. The beautiful man, the person who I'd always admired from afar had taken the easy way out. I'd never forgive him for that. Even to this day, the short, curt note that he'd scribbled and left on his desk glared through my vision.
PROSECUTOR MILES EDGEWORTH CHOOSES DEATH
5 words. 35 letters. That's all they were. Just 5 words. Just 35 letters written on a singular page left in a prosecutor's office in the dead of night. That's all they were. Yet, to me, they were compiled into a nightmarish text that made me shudder and cry every time I read it.
I'd never dared admit it not even to myself, but deep down I knew that I cared about Edgeworth a lot. Probably more than I should, considering the betrayal and pain he'd caused me.
I closed my eyes and attempted to relax, the cold rain tapping and seeping down my face, but even there, even in the dead of night sitting on a park bench with a pouring deluge of water dripping down my face, all I could think about was Edgeworth.
"Follow me, Phoenix!" came the voice of an excited young Edgeworth. I was still in grade school at the time, maybe fourth or fifth grade.
"Okay, okay," I mumbled, hurriedly cramming tonight's homework into my backpack and running out of the classroom and into the courtyard, where Edgeworth awaited me eagerly.
"I want to show you something, come with me!" said Edgeworth, grabbing my hand and eagerly pulling him along.
After a little bit of walking, we came up to a small alleyway, which Edgeworth dragged my overly hesitant self into.
"W-wait... Miles! A-are you s-sure this is safe?" I asked, still a bit cautious around areas I didn't know.
"Oh please. Would I ever lead you into danger?" answered Edgeworth confidently, with a playfully annoyed edge to his voice.
I reluctantly followed him down the long, hallway like path, and before long, we were in a forest-like clearing. A single bench stood in the middle, on which we eagerly sat down.
"Isn't this nice?" asked Edgeworth, leaning back and staring out into the trees.
"Yeah... It is," I said, smiling softly and looking at Edgeworth. Edgeworth was already looking back with a slight rosy blush on his cheeks. We locked eyes for a moment before falling into a fit of laughter.
Before long, the flashback changed.
We were no longer in a forest, but outside the courthouse. A trial has just concluded, with me as the victor. As I stood in the plaza in front of the courthouse waiting for Maya to come pick me up (At the time I still hadn't gotten my license.), Edgeworth approached me with a slight smile on his face.
"Great job today, Wright," he said, fidgeting with his fingers a little and not looking me in the eye.
"Thanks. You too, and sorry you didn't win," I answered, more cockily than I intended to.
He, at first looked a bit confused, hurt even, but then quickly covered it up by smiling at me and suddenly taking a very profound interest in fixing his glasses. Then, nearly unconsciously, I reached out and fixed his glasses for him, leveling them on his face, and for the first time in a while, we locked eyes.
His eyes were gorgeous. They were grey, with a hint of amber, and they stared back at me with a warm, shining joy, I couldn't help smiling. Come to think of it, his entire face was beautiful. His immaculate nose, his rosy lips, and the way his bangs framed his face.
Fuck, he's hot.
"Wright?" he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice. "Were you listening to anything I just said?"
"What? Eh- er- y-yeah. Yeah, I-I w-was. I think?" I answered blankly, my face turning redder than Edgeworth's suit.
"I said thanks, and that I'd get you next time," he replied, a sly smile on his face. "See you sometime."
And then he was gone, enveloped in a crowd of reporters.
I finally broke free of my daydream when the rain began to beat down harder, faster, and colder. I shivered in my thin dress coat, still half-conscious.
"This means nothing. He's a dead man. Even if you had feelings for him, you can't now. You waited too long," I repeated, tears streaking down my face.
I stood up, wrapping my coat around myself and beginning to mindlessly walk around the park. One step after another on wet, gravel pathways. I was drenched at this point, but I didn't care.
After a long while, I finally looked up to see where my feet had led me. It was a graveyard, and when I looked up at which one it was, I was finally shaken out of this sleepless trance.
Willow Park Memorial Grounds
That's where Edgeworth is buried. Well, not Edgeworth, but his memory. There wasn't even a body left to bury. There was no material memory left of the man. All that was left was a single tombstone and an empty coffin, rotting in the ground.
He wasn't far from this entrance. Without even thinking about it, I turned and walked forward. Then I turned one, twice, and then ducked into a small granite gazebo that had been built over his resting place.
His tombstone was, while large, not very filled with words. All it said was:
Miles Edgeworth
"The dead receive more flowers than the living, because regret is greater than gratitude"
Yet, ironically, he had not a single flower on the foot of his tombstone, which was already covered in a thin layer of dust-like dirt. I laughed, not a joyful laugh, but a sad, hysterical laugh, as I drew a heart into the dust. Then, a tear dropped into the middle of the heart, which was already detailed and designed, like a macramé wall hanging. More and more tears came along and melted the entire design into a small puddle.
This was all that was left of the man who I... the man who I loved. A puddle of tears on a granite gazebo.
"Damn you Edgeworth!" I yelled, beating my fist against the floor.
"Damn you for making me love you!" I continued, in a rage, crying and pounding my fist against the granite floor.
"Miles Edgeworth, I fucking love you."
I'd said it. Not that there was anyone left to hear me no longer. Not that there was anything left to love. All that was left was a memory. A memory that I was addicted to, a memory that I lived for. A memory that was all that was left for me to love.
Then, a voice broke my reminiscent silence.
"Who would have thought I'd find you here?" it said, in a calm and slightly joking manner. Wait, I'd heard this voice before. Was I hallucinating?
I willed myself to turn toward the direction of the voice, and when I did, I saw that I wasn't really hallucinating.
Under a black umbrella, its edges dripping wet, stood Edgeworth. My Edgeworth. My Edgeworth, with the blood-red suit that could be spotted from miles away, his dashing haircut with the long bangs that gently framed his face, his cravat, his sharp face and beautiful eyes.
I didn't even care if it was a hallucination, or if people thought I was mad. I ran to him, tears still streaking down my face, and hugged him, held on to him as if my life depended on it. He stiffened, seemingly startled, but soon relaxed and gently wrapped his arms around my upper back as I sobbed into his shoulder. A long time I sobbed, gripping on to him, not wanting him to leave me again.
"I'm back, Wright, and I promise I won't leave you again," came his voice, after a long moment of silence. I awkwardly wiped a tear from my face with my dripping wet sleeve.
"I've... missed you a lot," I whisper, looking into his eyes, still ever beautiful.
Don't think that way, Wright. You just got him back, you can't be thinking like that!
"Here, take my coat," he answered with a blush, awkwardly trying to move the conversation along. His coat was warm, soft, and smelled like him. I grinned back at him, my cheeks already burning red.
He walked me over to the bench under a covered pavilion and sat down next to me, his arm gently draped around my shoulders.
We sat there for a while, nobody daring to break the silence. Then, he slowly cracked his lips open, debating with himself whether to speak or not.
"D-did you really mean what you said back there? About y-you loving m-me?" he asked timidly, making both our cheeks flush a deep crimson.
Before I could muster up the courage to answer, his soft lips collided with mine as he gently embraced me.
And on that night, on a broken down bench in a cemetery, wearing Edgeworth's coat, I knew that I would forgive him, and that he'd never leave me again.