Chapter Text
for simon blackquill, life was anything but normal. in fact, something being normal was still an extraordinary blessing.
nearly a decade of his life was practically wasted behind bars. it feels like that, sometimes, when the true perpetrator was frolicking in the fields the entire time, right under his nose as if it were some game. the number of nights simon lay restless, practically begging metis cykes for forgiveness for taking so long, was unfair and staggeringly high. everyone around him was older; it should be common sense, but it was jarring at first. it still crawls under his skin like ants once in a while, especially when athena climbs into the driver’s seat of a car. it feels like yesterday that athena was just a little girl, drawing rockets with crayons instead of doing middle school homework. they were all so happy back then, cooped up in that space center. selfishly, there’s something in simon that longs to turn back time.
the thought briefly crosses his mind as he puts on his coat, heading out for work on what he hopes will be a regular tuesday morning. he always thinks of the space center when he wears this coat, the same way he’ll think of metis when his thumb runs across his prosecutor’s badge, of athena when his gold apartment keys jingle as he locks the front door behind him, and aura when he sees his own reflection in the windows of his black audi.
it’s his new routine, and it’s the same thing every morning. at first, it was hard to cope with, until he made the connection of prison having its own routines. the only thing that was new about it was his freedom. he almost didn’t live to see it.
the only differing factor this morning was the traffic. after blubbering a few cusses at other drivers, simon gave up and took a shortcut, stepping on the gas a bit to compensate. he hadn’t seen any construction or first responder lights on the way so far, so why was the traffic heavier than usual this morning? he might find out later, but simon can’t help the way his brow furrows as he contemplates potential reasons. at the very least, it keeps the prosecutor entertained for the rest of his commute.
it was quickly forgotten as soon as simon pulled into his usual parking spot and killed the engine, taking a moment for a deep, calming breath before exiting and locking his vehicle. briefcase in hand, he started the short walk inside. birds chirped around him, the white marble steps into the building were freshly cleaned, and someone he didn’t recognize was watering the decorative front flowers.
“good morning, prosecutor blackquill.” everyone inside said to him in passing, and he’d grumble back a “morning” in response to each one. recently, mr. edgeworth moved simon’s office to the twelfth floor, so instead of entertaining any conversations, simon opted for heading straight to the elevator. what he saw in front of it, however, made him stop in his tracks as a disgusted chill ran up and down his spine.
laughing sweetly and smiling, the sickening image of angelic warmth itself, was prosecutor nahyuta sahdmadhi, having a casual chat with the payne brothers. “oh, i apologize.” he was in the middle of saying, his tattooed hand raising to cover his mouth as he gracefully giggles. “the khura’in embassy insists on sending escort vehicles to accompany me on all official business these days. after what my family has endured, our people are quite fussy about the statuses of their royals. understandably so. i understand that it can make traffic quite congested, so i’ll have a word with the embassy about toning it down.”
seriously!?
before he could stop himself, simon rolls his eyes and tries to push past them. “that is simply the gaudiest and most ridiculous nonsense i’ve ever heard. get your head out of the clouds, sad monk, and come back down to earth where the other half lives.”
with an offended scoff, sahdmadhi reflexively shoves simon out of his personal space. “you forget that i grew up in poverty, panda. i didn’t take you for the brainless goldfish type. perhaps, then, you are jealous of me?”
“in your wildest bloody dreams.” simon sneers, turning to glare at sahdmadhi directly. he nearly regrets it, as those caribbean blue eyes are looking back at him as serenely as ever, and a peaceful smile spreads across sahdmadhi’s features. his silky skin practically glows as morning sun pours through the building windows, and his head tilts slightly like a dog trying to understand better.
“my wildest dreams?” sahdmadhi echoes, as if simon had said something incomprehensible. “i know who i am, panda cub. you cannot convince me of anything, simply because i know who i am. i hope, one day, that you remember who you are.”
the aggravating prince stepped to the side and sauntered off to the elevator, leaving a scent trail behind him of cherries and dark chocolate. simon hardly lingered on where the smell had come from or why it was haunting sahdmadhi like a beautiful ghost, as he was too busy scolding himself internally for thinking it smelled good in the first place. he stood there bristling for what must have been at least thirty seconds, infuriatingly fixated on the whole matter. why must sahdmadhi piss him off so? the loon could hardly stay in one place these days. blasted. quit dawdling over some bloody irritating man with a sour attitude and a horrid lifestyle and ridiculously delicious cologne.
damn it.
if only he weren’t at work, simon would slip away to some secluded corner for a cigarette. or seven. he’s not thinking right today, and right now it feels like he doesn’t remember the last time he did. simon shakes his head, leaving the payne brothers clueless where they stand, then hurries over and steps into the elevator before the doors can close.
“haven’t had enough of me? i thought you couldn’t stand the very sight of my existence.” sahdmadhi purrs, and simon has to bite his tongue to let sad monk have the last word this time. fucking hell, no other coworker really has simon snarling on the inside like this. they’re always going at each other like animals. wild animals who’ve trespassed on each other’s territory, and have nothing for each other except claws, teeth, and blood.
sahdmadhi giggles, and simon focuses on the elevator buttons now, stubbornly avoiding looking at the other prosecutor once more. the cool lights of the elevator interior surely are making his lavender hair stand out, a halo that wraps around him like a hug. simon can feel sahdmadhi’s eyes staring holes into him, waiting for them to stand face to face again, but the elevator heading to the twelfth floor is a more pressing matter.
“are we going to the same floor?” simon inquires, closing his eyes and ignoring the bite of his own tone.
“why, if you’re going to the twelfth floor, then yes.” sahdmadhi clasps his hands behind his back. “mr. edgeworth has graced me with a new office. room 1207.”
simon tries his hardest not to punch the elevator wall.
his new office was 1205.
“you’re two rooms down from me.” simon opens his eyes only to glare at sahdmadhi again.
“you were unaware?” sahdmadhi seems genuinely confused. “mr. edgeworth told me when he presented me with the offer. i saw no issue with it, so i agreed anyhow. perhaps he knew you would not agree and withheld the information.” the prince prosecutor hmph’s to himself, amused with the idea. “what an uncuddly panda you’ve really turned out to be.”
“you saw no issue?” simon’s voice raises in volume. “there are plenty of issues. all of this is an issue. here i was thinking i’d get some peace and quiet away from the hooligans downstairs, and now i’m only a few feet down the hall from the likes of you?”
sahdmadhi just looks away, slowly, as if he can’t think of a rebuttal while looking at simon in the eyes. “...if you are so allergic to my presence, just put a sign on your door.”
“now, listen here, you little twat-”
the elevator dings, and the door swings open, sahdmadhi exiting wordlessly and making his way over to office 1207 as promised. simon’s sentence dies in the air and he just stands there, pathetic and bristling, feeling bested. it’s only when his hand hurts that he realizes he’s been gripping his briefcase so tightly that his palm has gone clammy. sahdmadhi’s door has closed quite some time ago, and simon better exit this elevator before it gets called back down.
he’s nauseous now (for some reason) as he walks to his new office, feeling like he’s on a walk of shame. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. simon was just supposed to settle in to an empty office a few doors down from mr. edgeworth, have quiet mornings with his case files and his tea, and keep to himself for potentially the rest of his career. only now, after these hopes were dashed, did simon truly realize how much he had been looking forward to it. sahdmadhi was social, hummed to himself like a songbird, practically floating like a butterfly as he walked to and fro around the prosecutor’s offices.
he’s so fucking annoying.
simon can’t even enjoy the office as he enters, his briefcase dropping with a dramatic thud on the floor. some prissy little hummingbird is down the hallway right now, and what’s worse is their boss put them in such proximity. he collapses into the provided placeholder chair, exhaling a childish groan as he facepalms for a long time.
why, mr. edgeworth? the chief prosecutor knew the two of them got along about as well as oil and water. like two animals, luckless enough to cross paths, one or both of them always leaving battered and bruised. enemies, fated to dance around each other, words dripped in malice and intended to cut deep wounds. simon will admit, sahdmadhi makes for an excellent swordsman. he’s a remarkable, cunning prosecutor, talking circles around his prey like a vulture. he always wears a smile as mild as vanilla as he watches defense attorneys, world leaders, and simon alike writhe in his traps. but, like a constrictor, the more simon struggles, the tighter the trap gets, until it’s squeezing the life out of him. even now, as he sits moping in this new office chair.
is sahdmadhi proud of himself, maybe? in his own office right now, with those insufferable giggles and hehe’s, cleaning or reading or putting essential oils into a diffuser, delighted with himself for having such an effect on simon. it must have been satisfying to learn that simon didn’t know they’d been placed so close together. maybe sahdmadhi had even asked for that, and mr. edgeworth wasn’t the type to shy away from giving his employees new challenges. “it keeps you all sharp.” he’d told simon once, his index finger tapping on his other arm, as he had a subconscious habit to do. “defense attorneys bring all sorts of quirks with them, but they remain human most of all. i will not have my prosecutors slacking off.”
slacking off. he must be losing his mind. yep, simon is deciding right now, this is all ludicrous. simon was no slacker, but he’s already far too distracted. he hasn’t clocked in, unpacked his briefcase, logged in to his computer, or moved in the past ten minutes. sahdmadhi has already won the day.
not only has he won, but simon let him do it.
nobody got on his nerves this much in prison, and oh, did he meet annoying people there. none of them could compete with how annoying it is when sahdmadhi’s walls are down and his insufferable, polite giggle becomes a sputtering laugh that cuts through the air, so loud that simon could hear it over a party, across a room. or how annoying it was when sahdmadhi’s pale lavender hair caught the sunlight, how just the sight of it could split the sky. it just grated on simon’s nerves beyond belief. every time nahyuta sahdmadhi was the subject, simon’s head just spirals on and on, wild as an animal.
he really should get started on work. the three missed texts and missed call from athena will have to wait. damn, he hasn’t even done his usual morning check-in with her yet. get your shite together, simon. he scolds himself, straightening out on the chair and reaching for a new pen. it was about time this animal got productive for the day.