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Phoenix arrived at the courthouse two hours early. Later, when he relayed this information to Mia, she told him he was just being neurotic.
"As per usual." She said, laughing and rolling her eyes, but smiling warmly--to show she thought it was a sweet gesture. "I remember doing the same thing before my first trial."
By this point in his life, Phoenix was able to admit it--he was neurotic. There was no reason to show up so early. Mia herself wouldn't be there until thirty minutes before court was in session. And as for Larry, the bailiffs dragged him in mere minutes before the first bang of the gavel.
Still, what was he supposed to do? Wait around his apartment? That was out of the question. He woke up at five in the morning after going to bed at midnight, and despite tossing and turning for a long time, he had been unable to fall back to sleep. After brushing his teeth, eating a quick breakfast, showering, and getting dressed, he found himself pacing around his bedroom. The panicked thoughts racing through his mind only made him more anxious. Soon enough, he couldn't take it. Deciding it might be useful to leave home, he set out for the courthouse. He would find a place in the lobby and review the facts of the case once more. That would help soothe his nerves, right?
Well, of course it didn't. He had learned in law school that he was quite bad at studying--especially when he was under a lot of stress. While his classmates were able to cram the night beforehand and barely squeak by on the exam, that had never been something Phoenix was able to accomplish. He sat on a red sofa in the lobby, spreading all the documents from the file he brought out on a coffee table, trying to commit the facts to memory one final time. After just a few minutes, he gave up. He was too nervous--this was just a waste of time.
His stomach growled. He sighed. He was usually able to get by on a light breakfast. But another thing he learned in law school was that he was something of a stress eater. He spotted a vending machine in the corner of the lobby and walked over to it. He stared at his haggard reflection in the smudged pane of glass for a moment before perusing his options. That's when his eyes landed on an old favorite...
Shoving a dollar bill into the machine and pressing the right buttons, the snack of his choice fell to the bottom of the machine. Phoenix lifted up the flap and retrieved it. A small, round disk of oatmeal stuffed full of strawberry jam, encased within a flimsy plastic wrapper. Such items were staples of vending machines, despite the fact that they were certainly not as popular as other items like bags of chips or pouches of small chocolate chip cookies. Some people found the tart flavor of the bright red jam to clash too much with the oaty crust for their liking. Others found the snack too modest and plain--why pay a dollar for something so bland when you could get something more exciting for the same price?
But Phoenix always liked these small, jam-filled, oatmeal pies. The reason why was simple. Because he shared them with a person he loved...
__
Sitting down on the sofa, he unwrapped the snack and took a bite. And instantly, he was transported back in time. He was suddenly in elementary school again. He was sitting outdoors, underneath bleachers next to the playground where recess was held. Phoenix, Miles, and Larry often snuck out their to have lunch together, with Larry dubbing the area beneath the bleachers their "hideout." On the particular day that Phoenix recalled, however, Larry was absent. He had caught a cold and thus kept home--which was a bit disappointing to Phoenix and Miles, though also somewhat of a relief, as everyone needed at least a day or two off from Larry's constant mischief and general buffoonery. Besides, Phoenix and Miles didn't mind spending time alone. In fact, on occasion, they preferred it.
Even back then, Miles had a rather small appetite--at least in comparison to Phoenix and Larry's age-appropriate gluttony. He could usually finish most of the lunch he packed, with some leftovers. Phoenix always found this to be a shame. He was stuck with the usually-unappetizing lunch served in the school cafeteria, so he always looked on Miles' home-made meal with envy. Miles' dad had a very demanding job and so didn't have as much time to spend with son as he would have liked. He tried to make up for this in other ways, though. He would always wake up early, for instance, to prepare breakfast and pack a lunch for Miles. Over the long course of their friendship, Phoenix had noticed that Miles often ended up bringing the same things repeatedly in his lunch box. There was usually a sandwich of some kind, pretzels, onigiri, a bottle of milk...and an oatmeal pie stuffed with raspberry jam. Miles explained to Phoenix that this was his dad's way of including a "dessert" with his lunch that wasn't as high in sugar as other processed sweets. Miles liked the pies well enough, but they were usually one of the last things he got around to eating in his lunch. So began a daily tradition of splitting the pie in half and giving part of it to Phoenix. He had, at first, offered to slice it into thirds and give some to Larry, though he turned the offer down, stating he didn't want to "waste" his appetite on something so boring when his parents always stuffed his lunch box with as many sweets as he wanted. On the other hand, Phoenix--stuck with a meager, unexciting, school-provided lunch--always eagerly accepted the half of the pie that Miles offered.
On the day that Phoenix began to recall with vivid detail, he remembered sitting in the shadows, with little lines of light filtering through the gaps in the bleacher. It was the sort of gorgeous, crisp, windy-but-not-too-windy, late autumn days that you read about. In a few short weeks, it would be too cold for them to take their lunch outdoors. They both knew they had to savor it in the meantime.
"Hey, um..." Miles said, clearing his throat after a long pause. He was quiet today--more so than usual. He placed half of the oatmeal pie in Phoenix's lap. Some of the jam poured out and left a small red stain on his pants. "...There you go."
"Thanks!" Phoenix said, picking up his half of the pie and stuffing it in his mouth, eagerly consuming it in just one bite--something he was sure his mother would have scolded him for. "You're the best, Miles!"
"Er...thank you." Miles said, unable to stop himself from blushing a little.
It became quiet again. A gust of wind played arrived, blowing some leaves beneath the bleacher and playing with Miles' hair. He shivered.
"...Are you cold?" Phoenix said.
"Yeah." Miles said, sniffling. "...I forgot my jacket at home."
Without hesitation, Phoenix took off his and handed it to him.
"Nick, I..." Miles said, shaking his head. "...I can't take this."
"Sure you can!" Phoenix said, helping him put on the jacket. "...You can borrow it today. Just make sure to give it back to me tomorrow."
"But won't you be cold?" Miles said.
"I'll be fine." Phoenix said, grinning.
Miles smiled at him, continuing to blush. He moved closer to Phoenix suddenly and took his hand.
"Nick...?"
"Yeah?"
"...I really like you." Miles said after a long pause.
"I like you too."
"...As a friend or--?"
"More than that." Phoenix nodded. "...I think."
"...Good."
Miles closed his eyes and leaned his head on Phoenix's shoulder.
"That's how I feel about you too, Nick."
__
Phoenix could still feel it. The warmth of Miles' hand in his own...
The other kids teased them a lot. Especially the other boys. Even some of the teachers rolled their eyes and laughed whenever Phoenix and Miles chose to sit next to each other or paired up for a school project. It stung. Sometimes, Phoenix would cry when he got home thinking about it. But it didn't matter. Nothing that any of them said mattered. Being close to Miles made him feel happy. And holding hands with him made him feel even happier.
Even when Miles disappeared, the memories never did. He would still dream of holding his hand. And whenever he tasted raspberry jam, he couldn't help but think about him. Every day, he scoured the newspaper for any reference to him. Miles Edgeworth--he was no longer a quiet, kind-hearted little kid who dreamed of being a defense attorney like his dad. If the press was to be believed, he was now a cold-as-ice, tough-as-nails prosecutor, with dark rumors constantly swirling around him; that he forged evidence, that he would do anything to win a case...
Phoenix didn't believe it. He couldn't. No matter how much evidence he found to tell him otherwise...he refused to believe the Miles he knew was gone, replaced by an unfeeling, unflinching, courthouse bogeyman. Miles Edgeworth was not a villain--even if everyone else thought so.
There was only one way to find out, though. He had to see him again. In the courtroom.
The path that lead towards Edgeworth, this is where it all began. Today was the day he would begin walking--walking without stop until he found ran into him again.
"...Wright."
Mia walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.
"You ready?"
Phoenix looked up at her. He smiled and nodded.
"Yes." Phoenix said. "Ready as I'll ever be."