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Miles woke to the sound of his phone blaring on the nightstand.
With a series of ill-mannered grumbles, he sat up and fumbled with half asleep hands for the blasted thing on his bedside table, and let out a string of swears in German that’d make even the most seasoned of sailors gawk at the prosecutor as he was blinded by the brightness of his lockscreen.
Why on earth is Maya calling at such an ungodly hour? Surely, she knows there’s a sizable time difference between California and Germany!
Reluctantly, he hit the answer button, and brought the phone to his ear with one hand, and palmed around the nightstand for his glasses. “Miss Fey, do you have any idea–”
“How late it is over there? Yeah, spare me the lecture dad, I wouldn’t have called if this wasn’t important.”
Miles simply huffed as he put his glasses on. “Not that I don’t believe you, but the way you define importance has a tendency to vary wildly.” he grumbled, recalling how Maya had blown up his phone at three in the morning just last month over a Pink Princess merch drop.
Well, that was important, but Miles would sooner be caught dead than admitting that aloud.
“Yeah, well it was important, limited edition merch like that only comes about once a year, and it sells out quick! I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging!”
“What is this phone call in particular about then, Maya Fey? The Jammin’ Ninja this time?”
“They butchered that show in the spinoffs and you know it!” Maya spat through the static. Then, she went dreadfully quiet. “It’s about Nick. Trucy called me worried about him. Says he’s-”
And before Maya could even finish her sentence, Miles tore off the comforter, mind a blur of panic, phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder as he frantically started shoving belongings into the suitcase he had stowed under his bed.
“What is his condition? Which hospital? How did it happen? How severe is it? Which ward-”
“Miles, slow down!”
He paused with trembling hands and shaky breath.
“He’s not injured or dying- but from the sounds of it he’s not exactly well either.”
Miles let out a small sigh of relief, his worry only partially stemmed.
“Tell me why Trucy contacted you about Phoenix, then.”
He could hear her shuffle uncomfortably from the other end of the line, a habit he noticed that presented itself whenever Maya was unsure or uneasy about something.
“She called me saying that Phoenix is going to work, and he’s cooking and cleaning like normal, but something’s off.” Miles furrowed his brow a bit, in his confusion. “I know that doesn’t really sound worrisome, but you know how crazy perceptive that teenager is. She says she’s not seen him paint or draw, or even investigate his disbarment in his freetime. She said usually he’d stay up late and she’d see the light from his bedroom whenever he was reviewing the evidence you and him have collected so far when he’s not working nights. Or that he would spend time with her in the evenings watching movies, and apparently he’s been doing that less over these past few months. But what’s really worrying-” Maya lowered her voice, genuine concern bleeding from the very syllables. “She says he feels skinnier than usual when they hug. I… don’t think he’s been eating or sleeping. Trucy says most of his time is being spent alone with the lights off in his room.”
Miles chewed his cheek in thought, and sucked in a sharp breath as it clicked.
He checked the date on his phone.
“Shit!” He hissed.
“What? Do you know what’s going on?”
“I might. It’s getting close to the seventh anniversary of his disbarment. It’s a few days away.” Miles breathed tensely, his throat feeling taught.
“...Oh.”
“Miss Fey, would you be able to take Trucy this weekend? I’m going to check on Phoenix.”
“Yeah, I can do that… Are you sure though, Miles? You don’t have to do this, you know.” Her voice was a cautious whisper of sound, lost and unsure- as though ready to be swept up by a stray breeze and scattered.
Miles shook his head. “I know, and I am sure. I can’t leave him to deal with… whatever this is on his own.”
I would rather die than let something happen to him when being together is only a hair out of reach. I won’t let him give in to despair now.
I don’t think I could live with myself if I did.
With that he said his goodbye to Maya, and set about chartering a jet at a price most would be sick over, without so much as batting an eye. For Phoenix Wright, there was no price too great to pay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miles had picked a jet that would fly to the closest airport to Phoenix’s apartment, which meant as soon as he landed, he was shouldering cold and brisk through the crowds of the airport and walking as quickly as he could without outright breaking into a run. If he asked Gumshoe to pick him up, as he usually did, he would likely blab about it to the entire precinct, and then the prosecutor’s office would get word, and he had yet to decide whether he would accept or decline their offer of Chief Prosecutor yet. He still had work in Germany, Phoenix was still disbarred here, and their main suspect behind his love’s injustice still roamed free. No, they’d badger him for an answer- and Miles knew he wouldn’t be able to say no- and he’d both put a target on his own back and make Phoenix’s investigation even more difficult. No. He was walking today. They didn’t need to know he was back in town for a far-too-brief stay.
Thankfully, Maya Fey’s irrefutable offer to borrow miss Trucy Wright for the weekend hadn’t raised Phoenix’s suspicions- even more evidence that something was likely wrong, because as Kristoph Gavin’s involvement became clear to Phoenix and Miles both, Phoenix had started to become increasingly paranoid- the face of him appearing in the shadows of Phoenix’s vision, making him jumpy and on-edge at all hours. Even last year, when Miles had hosted them for Christmas in Germany, Phoenix was still checking around every alley corner, throwing glances compulsively over his shoulders for tails every three or so seconds.
No. He’d not let Trucy visit Kurain Village all on her own if he wasn’t in distress, especially not with Maya and Pearl’s track record for getting into dangerous situations.
He picked up his pace a little more, hoping that his suitcase’s wheels wouldn’t be too horrifically scuffed up by the end of this thirty minute half-jog along bustling sidewalks.
It wasn’t long before he was half running up the stairs to Phoenix’s apartment, only slightly winded by the addition of lifting his suitcase as he climbed, and making a bee-line for the peeling sky-blue door.
He knocked with more force than he probably should have at first, but his hands were shaking with his anxiety. “Wright?” Miles called, before knocking again.
Still no response. Phoenix’s bike was still locked to the wrack by the entryway, the old rusting apart relic somehow still usable it seems, but he biked everywhere, so he should be home, and it's also noon, he shouldn’t be asleep still.
Miles started patting down his tan overcoat in search of his keyring, finding it and the spare key Phoenix had given him after they had confessed their feelings- if only so that Miles could pop in for a surprise visit every once-in-awhile when he was in town.
He slid the key into the lock and turned it, the door groaning on elderly hinges as it swung open.
“Wright?” Miles called a little louder as he entered the space. It still looked about as clean as Phoenix could manage to keep a place as dilapidated as this with a magician for a daughter. Which is to say, it wasn’t that terrible- but lord, did it need to be renovated.
Unimportant , Miles chided himself as he sat his suitcase down, and closed and locked the door behind him. Something is clearly wrong.
He wound his way in the dark of the apartment to Phoenix’s room, and creaked the door open.
“Phoenix?” He called.
Sure enough, there was a sad-looking lump under the comforter that barely moved aside from an unsteady rhythm of rising and falling.
“Miles?” A voice called back, a bastardized version of Phoenix’s honey-smooth tenor, crackling with hoarse strain. But Phoenix did not move to greet him. “I thought you were in Germany…”
“I came to visit. Had some work in town. It can wait.” He lied. He couldn’t care less if that infuriating rock told on him, it wasn’t going to stop him. Miles was on a mission to ensure the man’s wellbeing, nothing was going to stop him. He crept closer to the little lump in the bed. “You are dealing with something far more important by the looks of it.”
“No, I’m not Miles.” Phoenix croaked in response. “Nothing regarding someone like me is important.”
Miles felt his heart stop.
He rushed over to the side of the bed closest to Phoenix, and pulled the mess of scratchy fabrics back over his head. The sight that greeted him was enough to make his blood run cold.
Phoenix was lying on his side looking perhaps the most broken Miles had ever seen anyone, which was truly saying something. His knees were pulled up to his chest, he was wearing an old baggy shirt and boxers that Miles remembered him filling out much more than what he was seeing now. Phoenix’s mismatched eyes were staring right through him at the wall behind him aimlessly and hollowly. As though seeing his surroundings but unable to really register them. With great gravity, those dulled irises rolled up to meet Miles’ gaze. His eyes were red; puffy from crying, if the damp spot on the sheets by his face were anything to go by. His raven locks were slicked and heavy with oils, sweat, and an unknowable concoction of things. When was the last time Phoenix had bathed himself? Miles took in his frame. That old shirt hung loosely over his frame, much more loosely that it should have, and the little bit of light streaming through the blinds illuminated the places where fabric fell;
The shapes of ribs were starting to poke through his well-muscled frame.
Miles wanted to cry at the sight. He choked the sob back down. It’d do him no good right now.
Phoenix was paler than usual too; like he’d been avoiding the sun as of late- likely because he’d been sitting here, alone, in the dark, stewing in his grief. His face was sharper; gaunt, and the pallor of purple bags under his eyes did the look no favors at all. He was staring at Miles with a neutral expression, as though he’d exhausted every ability to express anything other than apathy.
This was the face of someone suffering depression.
Miles let out a shaky exhale, and blinked back his tears as he got on Phoenix’s level. Those eyes rolled slowly as they followed his unsteady movement. He sat a gentle hand on Phoenix’s unkempt stubble, his skin feeling oily from a lack of hygiene.
Suddenly, Phoenix’s face twisted painfully. “How can anyone ever love me like this? You can’t love me like this, Miles.” Tears started streaming down his lover’s face anew. “You can’t. It’s not possible. I’m a worthless mess. You don’t love me. Trucy only loves me out of obligation. None of you should care about me. I don’t deserve it.” Phoenix sobbed. “I just drag you all down. I let everyone I meet down. Why don’t you just leave?! Why? All I am is a painful reminder, a chore to be around. A deadweight. A worthless, hopeless, sardonic deadweight.”
“Oh Phoenix…. Shhhhh, my love none of that is true- You know that’s not true..”
“It doesn’t matter if it's true or not, that’s all I can feel, Miles.” Phoenix closed his eyes with great effort as his body dry-heaved. “This is all I can feel right now. I- I can’t- Miles it all feels so damn heavy. It feels so heavy I waste all my energy trying to fight to get up each morning.” Phoenix shudders. “I can only find enough energy in me to take care of Trucy right now, and it's not fair to her at all, because she knows , she can see it, and I know she knows, and I can’t make it stop. I can’t fix it. Not even for her, even if I want to. And it's not fair to her.”
“Phoenix… You’re right, it isn’t fair. None of what you’re feeling right now is fair to her, Maya, or me.” Miles spoke with such tenderness, as if speaking to an ancient and revered creature as tears slipped from his own eyes. “It’s especially not fair to yourself.” He ran his thumb in soothing circles on Phoenix’s cheek. Phoenix blinked back at him, eyes open again.
“I don’t deserve you.” Phoenix sobbed.
“It’s a good thing my love for you doesn’t much give a damn about what you deserve then.” Miles retorted as he pressed a tender kiss to Phoenix’s forehead, despite the feeling of dirty, oily skin pressing back.
“You should leave me and never look back. You deserve the world, Miles. Not me.” Phoenix choked out.
“It’s a good thing you are my world then, my firebird. You know I’m more stubborn than you right?” Miles soothed through his own nasally tone and tears. “You can say as many lies about yourself as you would like, I will refute them all the same.”
Phoenix let out a broken whimper between trembling sobs.
“You said you hardly have energy to take care of yourself, so let me carry some of your burden then.” Miles murmured softly against Phoenix’s skin, before moving to stand. It was alarming, truly, how light he had become in only a few months- so much so that Miles had little issue scooping Phoenix out of bed with a hand tucked under his knees, and one braced behind his shoulder blades.
Phoenix buried his face into Miles’ shoulder and heaved, too weighed down by his mind to fight. Miles simply grimaced at the painful sound of someone he loved this dearly in so, so much pain. He wished he could suffer through this with him, so at least he could see he wasn’t alone.
He cradled Phoenix in his arms as he walked to the bathroom, easing Phoenix down onto the soft bath mat, and up against the tub. He got the water started to let it heat up, and briskly left to fetch a washcloth, a cup, and towels. Before he made his way back to the bathroom, he pulled out his phone and ordered Phoenix’s favorite takeout- entirely too much of it, perhaps- and sifted through Phoenix’s drawers to find him some clean(er) clothes. The soft pajamas and loose boxers smelled like something you could only really describe as ‘drawer’, but they were far cleaner than whatever he had found Phoenix in- plus, they were well-worn and soft.
He was hoping that Phoenix would have the strength to at least disrobe himself, but even that seemed to be too costly, as Phoenix just sat there, like a limp doll as tears still slipped from his eyes and pattered against the tiles. Miles left the change of clothes on the counter with the towel, and put the washcloth over the side of the tub. He stripped off his own coat and shirt, folding them and setting them down, and then moving to help Phoenix.
Even in this painful state, he still found Phoenix- in all his forms- beautiful.
Without a doubt, it hurt. It hurt to see the muscle and softness of a bright and healthy man rot away to leave a shell of himself behind, thinned with his own sorrows. To see how his ribs poked out just enough to be visible now, his wrists boney, and arms looking a bit thin compared to his last visit with Phoenix.
But it was still Phoenix .
Those eyes of clear springs and warm earth were still staring back into his own, dull though they may be, they could only ever belong to Phoenix. His tanned skin was skill mottled with still healing scars from many a misadventure, scars Miles had mapped and burned into his memory under wandering fingertips. There were still those patches of fine hair, dark and wispy on his chest and arms, and creeping down his navel. The dimples on the small of his back had yet to go anywhere. There were freckles in large patches across his shoulders and dusting under his eyes. Even the curious few stragglers that had oh so methodically spattered themselves across Phoenix’s bottom lip, and across his hands in little distant melanin galaxies, like the speckling of the starry sky itself. He still wore the studs he got when Trucy had been afraid of the needles at the boutique they went to upon telling Phoenix she wanted to get her ears pierced for the first time.
The man before him wore a bleeding heart tattooed into the sleeves of his very skin. His life could be read like a biography through a mere glance.
No doubt, this was still Phoenix . And by god, did his beauty captivate Miles.
Suddenly Phoenix shifted his head away with lacking strength, breaking their gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that Miles. I’m a broken man.” Phoenix shuddered out. “I’m just a collection of pieces of a person. A man–” Phoenix swallowed harshly “A disgraced man who doesn’t even have the decency to hold himself together when in front of those he loves.”
Miles studied him even still.
“I’m not worth your love…” Phoenix sniffed.
Miles grunted with acknowledgement at that. “If your love being worth your body weight in gold isn’t enough for my own, then nobody is worthy of it at all.” He chided, testing the water temperature, and shoving the rubber stopper in. The sound of unsteady water pressure thrumming against porcelain filled the room in between sniffles and silence. He ran the washcloth under the warm stream of the tap, and brought it back to Phoenix’s face, where he wiped away snot and salt-crusted tear trails with feathery grazes.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I don’t need you to believe my words when I mean them all the same.” Miles murmured before scooping Phoenix up, and setting him as gently as one could while holding a full-grown man into the still-filling tub. He pressed a quick kiss to Phoenix’s shoulder, which Phoenix didn’t even seem to notice as he stared emptily at the faucet head. Miles took the cloth and dunked it in the shallow pool of water that had begun to form, and began firmly scrubbing at Phoenix’s closest leg to start, grimacing at the grayish rolls of oil and dead skin that formed at the exfoliation. “If my words aren’t enough for you Phoenix, then I hope my actions are.” Miles hummed as he worked up the cloth up his lover’s thigh.
“You shouldn’t be doing any of this for me..”
“Hush now, I very well should. I love you Phoenix. I will keep telling you, showing you, writing it to you, and proving that fact to you with every fiber of my being. You don’t leave the ones you love to suffer their burdens alone.”
“Says the man who was dead for a year.” Miles’ hand stilled abruptly, and a silence thick and heavy settled over the pair, punctuated by the deep thunder of water spilling into more water.
Phoenix’s eyes widened as he registered what he had said.
“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”
“No you’re right. That is.. something I did. I did leave you to suffer through that year alone.” Miles breathed tersely, resuming his ministrations on Phoenix’s far leg now, water substantially higher than when he had slipped Phoenix in.
“But someone showed me that I was wrong in my selfish methods. He proved to me that my methods of handling my burdens alone like that had consequences on my relationships with others.” Miles looked up through his curtain of silver bangs to meet Phoenix’s eyes. “I got better- No, he taught me how to be better. I made myself stronger, bettered myself for the sake of others, but he was the one who showed me how.”
“Miles….” Phoenix sniffled.
“I suppose it’s time I reminded that same man of the lessons he taught me.” Miles gave a tender smile, shuffling along the side of the tub as he took up Phoenix’s closest hand, gave it a brief kiss, and began scrubbing away at the grime.
The angry red abrasive marks on his skin were quickly giving way to the life that still hummed underneath the grime of deadly acceptance, the hue of the tender new cells there vibrant and refreshed, the gray rolls of decay falling away to the floor of the tub as Miles worked diligently, using tender fingers on sensitive areas, only ever pausing to shut the water off, to which the tension of their silence made itself known.
“I wish I knew how to stop feeling like this.” Phoenix whimpered weak and wet.
“This isn’t something you can best on your own, Phoenix. Trust me. That I know.” Miles worked his way down Phoenix’s chest, the sound of sloshing water ringing clear as the cloth brushed over a sensitive nipple as lightly as Miles could manage- Phoenix squirmed at the sensation all the same. “I didn’t know how when I felt this way either. I know I also didn’t know how to ask for the help I needed either. That and for the longest time, I didn’t want to. I felt I deserved to suffer, that it was penance for a wrong that I never even committed.”
“You didn’t deserve it though…” Phoenix whispered back, head hung low.
“Neither do you, love.” Miles sighed, moving his firm scrubbing down Phoenix’s abs and back.
“But I do , Miles.” Phoenix cried, that captivating face scrunched horribly with tears.
Silence draped itself lazily over the pair for awhile, Miles trying to hide the pain of seeing his love this distraught, and Phoenix trying to hold in his despair.
Neither spoke until Miles forced Phoenix to scoot down so he could wash his hair, his face just above water, tendrils of steam languidly rising around him.
“It might not have been my fault, but I still failed.” Miles’ heart twisted painfully as he watched Phoenix’s lip quiver. “I failed my client. I failed Trucy. I failed Mia. I failed Maya, and Pearls, and Gumshoe, and you–” Phoenix’s eyes screwed up to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Dehydration , Miles’ brain supplied rather unhelpfully. “I failed everyone. And that fact broke me, Miles. I just held the pieces together hard enough that nobody knew it was that bad.” His tenor sounded small, and rough with a deep sadness that Miles knew too well. The sound of a shampoo bottle uncapping and squirting out viscous soap into an ivory palm was only joined by the rippling of water, and the drip-dropping of the tap.
Miles started to rub the soap into Phoenix’s neglected scalp.
“But you know. You’ve known, and you’ve seen it. At the end of the day, that’s all I am Miles. A broken mess of a man.”
Miles gritted his teeth with frustration. Well- not frustration at Phoenix, but frustration that he couldn’t find a way to stop his pain. He couldn’t make this stop, though he wished he could.
Miles would beg on hands and knees for the power to take this pain away from Phoenix.
And Miles despises begging for anything, so truly, that should say all it needs to.
“You told me once that you used to be an art student, Phoenix. You of all people should know that something breaking, and something being beautiful are two separate concepts that aren’t remotely related to each other.”
Miles continued to rub at Phoenix’s scalp.
“I don’t care that you think that any of what your mind is telling you at this moment is true. Because, Phoenix, I love you.” Miles sighed tiredly, but with fondness. “I love you dearly. You don’t stop loving something just because it breaks. You don’t stop loving, hurting, and grieving people just because you break apart, or they break- that’s not how this-,” Miles gestured wildly with a flick of his hand, sending droplets of soapy water flying. “-works. Years of therapy were needed for me to realize that. And you knew that once upon a time too. There was a time that you saw my broken pieces, and painstakingly swept them up, and squeezed them together until the glue dried up and put me back together.”
By now, the lather of cheap soap on Phoenix’s scalp made his once-flattened spikes look like a tornado of soapy bubbles on his head. Miles smiled to himself at the thought.
“Phoenix, have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”
“It sounds.. Vaguely familiar.”
“It happens to be the same art technique I actually had sent for after you made Franziska so angry she broke my favorite tea cup from gripping it too hard that one time.” Miles huffed as he dipped his hands in the warm bathwater to rinse them clean of soap. “It is a technique used in Japan to repair broken pottery or artifacts through the use of adhesives and gold.”
“...Okay?” Phoenix said in nasally sniffles of confusion.
“You once put me back together when I was a ‘broken mess of a man’ as you so eloquently put it.” Miles used a gentle hand to guide Phoenix’s chin back, and gazed sweet, loving and longingly into his eyes. “I will use every drop of gold on the market to mend you, Phoenix. In the same way you pieced me back together so damn stubbornly, I promise you this; I will hold you close while you are broken and deserted, with no one by your side,” Miles used the cup he had retrieved to rinse those raven locks clean, carefully- so as to no get soap in Phoenix’s raw-and-puffy eyes. “I will treasure you, even when you are whole and overflowing with love and light,” Another gentle cascade of warm water over scalp. “And whenever you break apart, I will take all the gold and lacquer I can afford, and I will hold your fragments and shards, no matter how sharp-” the sound of water trickling against porcelain punctuated this confession quite nicely, Miles thought. “-together as the lacquer sets. I will adorn all the scars and cracks you see in the mirror with gold, so that even when all you can feel is your own darkness, a single glance will be so blinding it fills your heart with light. I will use my love to fix your fractures and make you forget they were ever a flaw.” One final rinse, for good measure. “Then maybe even a man as stubborn as you, Phoenix Wright, will be able to see that you are as loved as I keep saying you are. Then you might be able to see the man I gaze upon every time I look you in the eyes.”
Phoenix simply stared dumbstruck at Miles’ face, eyes wide and disbelieving, lip threatening another sob, eyebrows pinched tensely. Miles brought a kiss to Phoenix’s nose. “And I’ll do it all, without a second thought, because I love you, Phoenix.” Miles breathed into his skin, briefly hoping that somehow the words would land in Phoenix’s very bones.
“I never took you for a wordsmith Miles…” Phoenix laughed, a sad, wet laugh- not quite happy, not quite sad.
“For you, there aren’t enough words for me to say.” Miles felt himself blush a little as he pulled away, and grimaced as he took in the state of his own pants, and then paled further at the murky gray tint of the bathwater. “Come then, let's get you dressed and fed.”