Work Text:
You wish you could say he has changed so bad you barely recognized him. But he opens the front door and the moment you met his gaze ground shifts from under your feet, as it always does. The sense that you start to fall just before waking up, prolonged. You don’t even have a moment to consider if the way he looks signifies greater mental disturbance he’s going through. The effect provided on you is inescapable. That is your Phoenix.
When you offer him your help, he, of course, refuses. You didn’t expect anything less. So, you offer at least to accept a modest financial gift. He dislikes it also, obviously, but it’s a bit different, when you mention is as your way to get Trucy a gift.
Something shimmers in his eyes. Something unfamiliar. You can’t believe there’s still something new for you in him after all those years, and yet there you are again.
“How about you lose it fairly?”, he asks with his Gioconda's smile on.
“Loose? That’s presumptuous, Wright”
“Do you know how to play poker?"
“I… Of course, I do”, You answer, taken aback just a little.
It’s not like you have a lot of experience – that wouldn’t be a very pristine thing to do for you – but you know the drill: two kinds of pairs, three of a kind, four of a kind, straight, flush, full house, straight flush and royal flush. Everything besides pairs and threes is almost impossible to pull, so you just got to pretend you got lucky. It can’t be much harder than chess, can it?
“Play with me then”, he pulls a card deck out of his pocket. “Blind bets, deal?”
You put a half of what you have on you on the table. It should be enough for him to last for a couple of weeks, including therapy. It wouldn’t be wise to bet everything. You can’t have him refuse to play because of the amount. And you should leave something in case he’ll actually win somehow.
“Huh. That’s presumptuous, Edgeworth.”
“You’re going take that, whether you like it or not”.
“Hey, don’t you dare to yield on purpose. I’m going to take in as an insult.” He keeps smiling, like it’s some sort of joke.
“Don’t count on it, Wright.” No way you are going to just give in to him. He’s not getting anything the easy way now.
“Well, I’ll have to be more modest with my bet. Do you wanna deal?”.
He shuffles the deck deftly. It’s mesmerizing in a way.
“I trust you”, you shake your head. Definitely not because you don’t want to look awkward with all the cards sliding out of your hands and falling everywhere.
“Huh. An interesting statement. I expect a fair game from you then.”
“The expectation is mutual”, you respond through your teeth. Why does it always have to be like that with him. Maybe Maya was right after all and you both are just insecure idiots who can’t make a single step towards each other.
He deals the cards and puts his in a stack immediately. You could swear he didn’t even look at them.
“So, you’ve missed me, didn’t you, Edgeworth?”
That’s a low move right from the start. You did expect he would do something like that, but he could make at least some sort of prelude.
“Do you really want it to go this way?”, you answer, trying to look indifferent as you check your hand.
“Well, we have to talk about something. And you are here right now, aren’t you?”
“I’m raising”.
You have nothing. Not a single combination and nothing to give you the slightest idea what’s going on in his cards. You cross out a few four-of-a-kinds that he can’t have now in your mind and that’s it.
“I’ll take it as a ‘yes’”, he chuckles. “I mean, it’s a Friday evening. Don’t have anything better to do? No Mrs. Edgeworth? Or Mr., maybe?”.
He’s rising too. You can feel your blood pressure raising as well. Is it his famous winning tactic or are you just getting a special treatment?
“No”, you cut him off, looking away. “It’s mostly work”.
“As always. Really important, isn’t it”, he chuckles.
“What was that for?” He’s obviously just trying to get on your nerves, and by God, he’s really good at it. “You know what kind of job I’m getting done. You did it yourself. Don’t tell me there wasn’t anything in being an attorney for you. And you were... Brilliant at it”, you have to force these words out of yourself. They say it is easy and pleasant to tell the truth, but you could object to that. It doesn’t seem to throw him off the tracks as it throws off yourself.
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have done it at all. Maybe it was a stupid decision I only made because I was lost, desperate and crazy in love”.
Your heart clenches so hard it feels like the blood is doing to flood from your mouth. You are losing this competition miserably.
“…Was it that bad?”
“No. That was amazing. It’s hard to believe how much I’ve accomplished because of that. Feels like it was someone else now”. Smile slips of his face and he gives you unexpectedly cold look. “Maybe it’s better if it stays this way. I got myself a decent job now”.
Your highest card is Jack of clubs. If you assume that his luck doesn’t surpass the probability theory, the chances are you just going to compare high card. In that case, the probability he’s got something higher than jack is around twenty percent. One in five. That is, of course, if he doesn’t have a pair, and the probability of that is around forty percent. Which is high, but there’s still a pretty good chance you could pull it off.
“’Decent job’ is one way to put it”, you needle. You can’t tell if he’s serious right now or is he just trying to piss you off with that.
“Oh, of course, you don’t like it, Mr. Prosecutor! Because it’s not something you would do. Excuse me for not doing exactly what you want me to once”.
You seem to hit the right nerve here. It doesn’t feel as satisfying as you were expecting for some reason.
“Have you ever considered I’m happy right now? Maybe the whole attorney thing was a mistake. I have a daughter. And a pretty good job – and I don’t care about your opinion for once. I don’t care if you are disappointed or disgusted”. He speaks in this quiet and laid-back voice of his, but you can feel the air in the room tensing. He leans closer to you across the table on his elbows, still keeping his closed posture. “Not everyone is supposed to be insecure perfectionists with no way of validating themselves other than hyperachievement. I’m able to provide for both of us. And I gotta say I’m having a lot of fun here. Maybe it’s all I’ve ever needed”.
“I’m… sorry. I do not have an intention to…” You lean back instinctively, finding yourself at a loss of words, even though the table is not exactly narrow and he’s not that close to you. His presence is suddenly overwhelming. Your own attack turned against you once again. You probably should be used to that by now, but…
“I’m raising”, he cuts off. The game continues.
A heavy pause takes place.
“I have never mentioned I’m either disappointed or disgusted”, you notice quietly. “Whatever you thought I was thinking of you is nothing more that your own image of yourself. I’m calling. And I ask that you do not put your words in my mouth”.
He gives you a look that almost makes you regret saying anything at all.
“Oh well, prepare to be disappointed and disgusted then, because words are not the only things I’m putting in people’s mouths these days. Bet.”
You feel like something alive and cold runs on the inner side of your ribs with horrendous amount of legs. You know he just tries to get under your skin. And it would have been easier to ward his attacks off if having him under your skin wasn’t the only thing you wanted for the last decade.
“Oh, and isn’t it about your ‘decent job’, where you employed as a ‘piano player’ with a gambling option? What else is, if I may, a part of your job description?”.
“…Well, it’s just that some people want… rematch of sorts”, he drawls. “Some just want to keep the party going. Some have… Alternative bets. And I gotta stay inclusive, don’t you think?”
You can feel pang of jealousy so cold it burns. Something starts to swarm in the back of your skull, gross and slimy. The thought of someone having their hand on the back of his neck while…
“I’m doubling”, you say, and it turns out angrier and louder than you anticipated.
“Oh, is the sir Mr. prosecutor Edgeworth jealous? That’s something”, he chuckles. You can’t say if he’s enjoying this just because he likes to see you being pathetic or for some other reason. “I’m calling, then”.
“I’m just… worried about you, that’s it”, you chose the lesser evil for yourself. Admitting this is easier than admitting you are, in actuality, jealous.
“Yeah, so worried you keep on disappearing,” he mutters to himself, as if you won’t hear it.
“Excuse me? You were the one who cut me off this time!”. Now he’s just being unfair for the sake of it. “You know if you’d called, I would be here in eight hours, and yet you-”
“…Are you going to bet?”, he says over your would-be monologue.
“Why are you doing this?”. You can’t even say you’re angry with him. It just feels like you are a child scolded for the thing he didn’t do. Lost and upset, absolutely helpless before the silly little injustice. “Do you really want me gone that much? Is seeing me worse than all that you are going through?”
“Do NOT compare yourself to whatever this mess I’m in!”. This is the first time this evening he actually raises his voice. And yet again, you don’t seem to enjoy unsettling him as much as he seemingly enjoys ticking you off. “You have nothing to do with this. You’re nothing like it. This is just pathetic. And you are… God damn it”. He seems to catch himself on expressing too much.
“Every time I think I moved on, you just have to appear again and be this your… self, do you?”, he continues, after a deep sigh. “And I just keep on falling for the same trap every single fucking time. And everything that I am comes crumbling down again.”
He suddenly looks so tired. Distant as you never wanted to see him. You swallow a lump in your throat.
“If you do not wish for me to be around, you can say so, like a grown-up person. I’ll understand. And I won’t bother you again”. It takes all you have to make yourself sound calm and collected.
He bites his lip, looking away.
“Well, I’ll pass. Fold”, he then says, suddenly careless and nonchalant again.
“What?”, you blink.
“What? I have nothing”, he shrugs.
“What!?”. That’s frustrating.
“It’s done. You won, Edgeworth. Congratulations! Here goes my seven years strike, huh?” He puts his cards back in the deck without looking and shuffles it mechanically.
“What did you have?”
“Nothing. I told you already”
“Why- No? How… Dare you? You can’t just… What’s about the fair game?”
He gives you another evasive translucent smile.
You want to-
You don’t know.
To throw cards and the money off the table and scream at him.
To look in his eyes for an hour.
You want him to say he’s sorry for that stupid game and just take the money.
To stop being a stubborn asshole and accept your help. Or any help.
You want him to be alright.
You want him to be the best person he can be.
You want to be around to watch him change and grow into something that’s so different but still him regardless.
You want to be able to help him.
You want to be able to do anything at all.
You stand up from the table.
“Well”, he breaks the silence with the tone so casual as if he’s not being a slippery bastard right now. “I hope you’re going to take your cash, otherwise I would have to just throw it away. I couldn’t embezzle someone else’s money won fair and square, after all.”
“Good night, Wright”, you manage to say, even though it comes out half whisper. You turn your back to him and leave. He doesn’t even answer, and you are pretty sure he’s actually going to through your money away.