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Phoenix surged awake with an almost painfully dry mouth. It was that time of the year where the air was so dry it felt like sandpaper to breathe, so this was, once again, becoming a common occurrence. With eyes crusted with enough sleep he could see no more than the faint reflection of the city lights outside on his eyelashes, he, once again, turned towards the other side of the bed in some subconscious worry of what might not be there. And like the crap shoot that it was, only a slightly indented pillow neatly tucked under the duvet. Rubbing his eyes, he got up.
As he made his way towards the kitchen, he stopped for a moment in front of the bathroom door. Holding his breath, he counted in his head and listened. The sounds of cars muffled whatever noise might or might not be coming from behind as they always did. It was an exercise in futility he couldn’t help himself from keeping up. After three, he continued down the hall.
From the kitchen, he could hear the faint murmur of the television in one of the adjacent rooms. Relief overcame him as he reached for a glass from the cabinet, but confusion followed as he filled it up with water from the tap. He chugged the lukewarm water then glanced at the time on the microwave as he filled it up again. It was a little past 1:30.
Slowly, he creeped his way to the TV room, trying his best to remember which of the hardwood slats creaked and which didn’t. Luck was not on his side as the floor groaned as he entered the room. A head silhouetted by the yellows of the television and partially covered by the plump couch turned to face him.
“Did I wake you?” Edgeworth asked.
Phoenix responded with a simple shake of the head as he lifted up his glass of water. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Turning back to the screen, Edgeworth responded, “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m watching every Godfather .”
An ancient mansion surrounded by tropical flora peeked behind his head. Phoenix walked past the couch and stood to the side of it.
“How are you ever gonna fall asleep if you're watching The Godfather ?” he asked after taking a sip from his glass.
“No. You see, I’ve already accepted that I cannot sleep tonight, so I am watching The Godfather ,” Edgeworth said, his eyes moving back and forth from the TV and his visitor.
Raising an eyebrow, Phoenix asked, “Don’t you normally do work when you can’t sleep?”
The glancing stopped, eyes resting on the TV screen. “My therapist told me that during bouts of insomnia it's better to relax the mind than to stress it.”
“And gang violence is relaxing?” Phoenix said with an airy chuckle.
“They’re good films. I like them.”
The silence in the room was covered up by Sicilian being spoken on screen. Phoenix watched for a moment, holding his glass to his lips but not going for another sip. He looked back to Edgeworth, who seemed to have been watching him, and let the corners of his mouth tilt up into the softest of smiles. In response, he patted the empty cushion next to him, breaking eye contact in the sheepish display. Finishing his second glass and placing it on the empty coffee table, Phoenix obliged.
“So you’re watching all three of them?” he asked for clarification as he melted into the couch.
“That’s the plan,” Edgeworth replied. “I honestly hope Part III will knock me out.”
“Hey, Part III isn’t bad,” Phoenix said, turning towards him. “Like it’s not as good as the others, but it’s still a good movie.”
“In regards to all movies? Of course. Sofia Coppola’s acting is just so bad, I might pass out as a defense mechanism.”
“C’mon,” Phoenix sighed. “She’s not that bad.”
Completely turning his body towards Phoenix, Edgeworth said, “She is most certainly a terrible actor. The scene where she gets shot is laughably bad. She is a good director, though. I really enjoyed The Virgin Suicides .”
Phoenix scrunched his brows. “That doesn’t seem like a ‘you’ movie.”
The car exploded on the television, but neither were paying any attention. Edgeworth paused for a moment, weighing his words.
“It’s well made,” he finally said. “I think it’s one of Franziska’s favorites.”
“I’m not sure if it’s a ‘her’ movie either,” Phoenix replied.
“I’m not sure either,” Edgeworth replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I’m actually not even sure if it’s actually her favorite. We watched it together a few years ago during Thanksgiving. When we finished, I opened my mouth to speak, but she became angry and said, ‘I will not allow you to degrade the experience of this film. Close your mouth, Miles Edgeworth.’ And then locked herself in the room until dinner.”
Phoenix laughed slightly. “Sounds like she must’ve liked it.”
“Seems likely,” Edgeworth replied.
The two of them returned their focus to the screen. Marlon Brando was in the middle of his monologue at the meeting of the Five Families. Sleep was already seducing Phoenix as he scooted himself closer to Edgeworth. Despite the heater being cranked up, the frozen air outside slipped through the cracks making his body heat like an oasis in a desert.
As he gently rested his head on his shoulder, Phoenix asked as a means to stay awake, “What’s happening?”
“I think Al Pachino’s wife just died,” Edgeworth whispered back, moving his arm over Phoenix’s shoulder.
“Hmm,” was all he could muster as his eyelids turned to lead.
The last thing Phoenix could remember was a school bus as he woke up to the sound of his alarm in a stupor. He looked around, frantically attempting to get a grasp on his bearings. He was still on the couch, Edgeworth had been replaced with a throw pillow and a blanket was neatly draped over him. The alarm that sat on his nightstand was now the only thing on the coffee table in front of him. As he turned off its blaring, he read the time was 8am, well past when Edgeworth would normally head to work. Carefully laying back down on his makeshift bed, he slowly pieced the facts together with a warm smile stupidly plastered on his face.