Archive of Our Own

It was a normal day.

Nothing that abnormal happened today, nobody had asked him to represent them in court, so Phoenix spent most of his day doing paperwork and getting distracted by talking to Maya. By the time that the first whispers of evening came, Phoenix closed down the Wright & Co. Law Offices and told Maya he’d see her tomorrow. Biking through the streets of Japanifornia, Phoenix saw everything that the city he’d lived in for his entire life had to offer him. Restaurants with cuisine all around the globe, boutiques and jewelry stores, salons and barbers, bakeries and cafés and coffee shops, and so many other businesses that kept the city alive. He passed them by, wondering if he should get something at a café, but ultimately deciding against it.

Not much had happened today, aside from Miles visiting to deliver paperwork from their latest trial together, though Phoenix knew that he just wanted to spend time with him and Maya. Miles was not at all as slick as he thought he was, it honestly was actually kind of funny. Phoenix smiled at the memory of Miles humming in thought, and then smiling as he decided to stay for just a few more minutes, for “professional matters” of course. He was always such a dork, but Phoenix loved it and spending time with Miles, as well as the man himself. Miles was handsome, a jerk but with a soft side he rarely showed, and he was incredibly smart and his quips made Phoenix laugh sometimes. How was he not supposed to fall for him?

Phoenix smiled at the thought of Miles laughing, though he yelped when he almost got hit by a car. Yeesh, that was close! He shook off all thoughts of Miles, focusing on biking back home. He had a tupperware of leftover chicken tinola that he needed to eat, plus he needed to cook his leftover rice into fried rice. He wondered what he should do after dinner, maybe watch a movie? Not that latest Steel Samurai movie that had just been released, Maya would kill him if he watched it before her. There was a new body and psychological horror by his favorite directress Kaede Daver, which was finally available on Netflix. Phoenix smiled at the idea of it, of him eating popcorn and screaming at the horrifying parts and admiring the special effects. Yeah, that sounded nice.

And then he saw it.

The painting.

It leaned on the wall of an abandoned building, dry oil paint on a soft durable canvas. Intrigued, Phoenix stopped his bike and got off, going over to the painting. It was a perfectly good painting, and he wondered who the hell would leave it out like this. It was of a rustic cottage in a flower field, bathed in a soft warm light. Phoenix picked up the painting, examining the brushwork on the canvas more closely. It was beautiful, but unfinished. Unblended colors, not enough contrast in the colors, a few flowers that were just blobs of color and undefined. But it still looked great, years of careful craftsmanship and practice with every color on the canvas. If it looked this beautiful now, what would it look like when it was finished?

As Phoenix held the canvas in his hand, it felt like it was almost…calling out to him. It begged him to take it with him, in pleading brushstrokes and desperate colors. Unfinished, abandoned, unloved. It just wanted tender care, to be remembered from now and until the end of time, for someone to love it. And Phoenix could be that person, to love the painting from now until the day he died. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

He stared at it, mesmerized.

The painting was bawling in despair, because it was…missing something.

And he could finish it.

Take me home.

Take me with you.

I’m missing something.

And you can fix me.

You can complete me.

Won’t you complete me?

He needed to complete this painting.

Phoenix took it home with him, though he felt silly riding his bike while carrying the canvas in his arms. He ignored everything when he went inside his apartment, not even locking his front door. How could he, when the painting was pleading to be finished? To be whole? He went to an unused room that he wanted to use as an art room, from when he promised himself he’d get back into drawing and painting when he was in law school. Phoenix put the painting on an easel, wondering what he should add to the painting, before he decided to just wing it. He took out his old oil paints and put them on the table, before he went over to examine the painting. It was mesmerizing. He couldn’t look away. Why would he look away from something this beautiful?

The scene in the painting looked so peaceful, and Phoenix wondered what life in it would be like. In a flower field, living in a little cozy cottage, with the people that he loved with him. Maybe even Miles, and they’d live every single day with each other. Phoenix stared at the painting, and he didn’t know for how long, moments or seconds or minutes or hours or days or maybe even years. It’d be so blissful living in the painting, the oil paint on the canvas almost seemed to be beckoning to him, telling him to join the delicate brushstrokes. Before he knew it, he walked up to the canvas and reached out to caress it.

As soon as his fingertips grazed the canvas, he felt himself getting pulled into the oil painting. It was so loving, the painting’s brush strokes. It whispered to him, soft with brushstrokes and fondness. It wrapped him in overwhelming and mind-melting affection. Phoenix felt every thought of all the horrible things on earth melt away as the painting enveloped him in its tender and overwhelming painted love.

You’re all mine.

All mine.

I can make you so happy.

Doesn’t that sound wonderful?

Be happy.

Be happy.

Be happy.

Be happy with me.

Phoenix was happy.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

Miles had been to the Wright & Co. Law Offices plenty of times.

And he was on his way to the law firm now, as he drove his car with jazz music from the radio that filled the air. He just liked to visit, Maya and Phoenix were pleasant people and fun to be around, so why wouldn’t he visit them? At first, his visits were purely for business, but then Maya would convince him to stay and he’d talk with the two before leaving much later than he initially planned. At some point, he started looking forward to getting paperwork for his trials with Phoenix, and he even delivered other prosecutors’ paperwork to him. Not that either Maya or Phoenix complained, they liked his company apparently.

Miles smiled at the thought of Maya and Phoenix lighting up in delight when they saw him. Phoenix especially, he was always so adorable when he smiled. He had noticed his feelings…shifting for the man. Every moment they spent together was like a thread in a complex tapestry, individual strings that were soft with something that Miles couldn’t exactly name. But when he stepped back, he already knew what those feelings were the moment he saw them. Threads of warm hued affection and cool hued yearning, it was obvious. Love was such a complicated thing, each feeling a brushstroke in the painting that was called life, but he loved this man, that much he knew.

Miles soon arrived at the law firm, parking his car and then getting out. He locked his car and looked up at the building. A sign in bold colors read “Wright & Co. Law Offices”, though some of the colors were faded. It was insane to think that years ago, Phoenix was a distant memory and not a part of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without Phoenix anymore. He walked up to the door and knocked, going inside when he heard Maya’s cheery voice. Inside was just Maya, watching something on the TV. Phoenix wasn’t there, which Miles found odd. It was already well into the morning, why wasn’t he here? Was he in his personal office?

“Good morning, Maya.” Miles greeted, then asking. “Where’s Wright?”

Maya frowned. “That’s the weird thing, he wasn’t here yesterday too.”

“What? He wasn’t?”

“Yeah, it was just me here the whole day yesterday…and today too.”

“Where is he?”

Maya shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s weird. He usually tells me when he doesn’t come in, even for emergencies.”

“Now that has me worried…” Miles trailed off with a frown.

“Well, let’s stop worrying and get his ass.” Maya said, getting up from the couch. “I’ve got a copy of his apartment’s keys. We can go to him and see if he’s okay.”

Miles raised a brow. “Is it really wise to barge in on his apartment without prior notice?”

“Probably not! But we gotta check up on him, we’re his friends after all!” Maya said, and then adding. “We’re using your car, by the way!”

“Dear lord- Maya!”

The two made their way to Phoenix’s apartment building, with Maya giving Miles directions as he drove. Phoenix didn’t live that far away from the Wright & Co. Law Offices it seemed, and they soon arrived. The apartment building was old, made of faded red brick. This was where Phoenix lived, huh? Maya led him inside, greeting Phoenix’s neighbors that they encountered as they went up the stairs. She was a frequent guest here, it seemed. They soon arrived at Phoenix’s apartment, Maya looking through her keyring to find her copy of Phoenix’s lock. But when she went to unlock the door, she frowned, which totally wasn’t concerning.

“That’s weird.” Maya said, sounding slightly worried. “The door is unlocked.”

“That’s…worrying.” Miles said.

“Yeah, no shit.” Maya quipped, ignoring Miles as he rolled his eyes. Then, she said. “Should we go in?”

“As if you aren’t just going to barge in.”

“Heh! You know me so well.”

Phoenix’s apartment was totally empty it seemed, deserted even. But everything was in place, like nothing had been touched since the day he had gone missing. At least, that’s what Maya told him, and her worry was definitely worrying Miles too. They looked through every room that they could, looking for Phoenix. The kitchen had nothing of interest—except for a bag of chips that May “borrowed”, and neither did the bathroom, or the bedroom, or the lone guestroom, or the living room. At some point, Miles was legitimately convinced that Phoenix had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom, and from the troubled frown on Maya’s face, she was too.

The last room they checked out was the office, though Maya told Miles that Phoenix wanted to repurpose it into an art room. They went inside, and a lone easel stood in the middle of the room. There were tubes of old oil paints on the table, but upon closer examination, they hadn’t been opened in a long time. Miles and Maya walked up to the easel, where a painting was propped up. It was obviously unfinished, though Miles couldn’t exactly place why he thought that—he wasn’t a painter. The painting was of a little cottage in a vibrant blooming flower field, with a little painted Phoenix standing under the porch and looking up at the sky.

“Huh, was he painting?” Maya wondered to herself, and she stared at it as if it had the answers to her questions. “Did he get so caught up in his painting that he didn’t come in for work?”

“Possibly.” Miles snorted out a laugh, turning to Maya. “You know how determined artists get.”

Maya shot him a grin. “Heh! Determined is a way to describe Nick.” She turned back to the painting. “Still, where is he right now-” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the painting. “Holy fuck.”

Miles looked back at the painting, and his eyes widened when he saw what Maya did. On the painting, Phoenix had gone from looking out from the porch to tending to one of the flower bushes. That wasn’t possible, this wasn’t possible. What the hell was going on?

“…Maya, am I going insane, or did Wright just move in the painting?” Miles said.

“He did…” Maya sounded terrified. “Oh god, he did.”

Miles gave her a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“I-I know what happened to Nick.”

“What? Something happened to him?”

“It’s…” Maya looked horrified, like she’d seen a man die in front of him. “He’s in the painting.”

“…What?” Miles stared at her.

“I can feel it, the mystic energy from the painting. He’s in there.” Maya said.

“Maya, how is that possible- that’s absurd.” Miles replied.

“I know! But the mystical energy is unmistakable, and I can feel Nick’s soul in the painting. What the hell? This is so weird.” Maya walked up to the painting. “I need to get a read on it. How old it is, how powerful it is, who made it…” As she spoke, she reached out to caress the canvas of the painting. When her fingertips made contact with the canvas, it immediately tried pulling her in. Maya screamed. “Edgeworth! Help!”

Miles rushed over and grabbed her arm, trying to get her out of the painting’s grasp. It was strong, and Miles had to use all of his strength to try to pull Maya out of its firm hold. After a bit of pulling, he was able to get her free, and the two collapsed to the ground. They caught their breath, staring at the painting like it was a cursed object—and technically, it was—and then Maya turned to Miles.

“Do you believe me now?” She asked.

“It’d be difficult not to.” Miles replied. He got up, staring at the painting perplexed. “How…is this even possible?”

“So many ways, but this painting…it’s strong. Whoever made it obviously had a lot of mystical power.” Maya said, getting up too. “What’re we gonna do? I mean, we obviously can’t let Nick be trapped in the painting!” She sighed. “We know nothing about it, what if it hurts his soul in some way?”

“It can…do that?”

“Yeah. Its mystical powers are strong. I felt it when it was pulling me in. I don’t wanna worry you, but it might be affecting his soul in some way.”

Miles frowned. “You saying that is definitely worrying me.”

“Hey, I said might!” Maya protested. “It might be harmless…or it might be shattering his soul as we speak.”

“Dear lord…” Miles groaned, and then he said. “We need more information on this painting.” He frowned in thought. “But…where do we get it?”

Maya hummed thoughtfully, and her eyes sparkled as she got an idea. “Hold on! I got it!” At Miles’ raised brow, she added. “Mystic Ami has a bunch of notes about the supernatural things she encountered when she moved here from the Kingdom of Khura’in. We can go look through all of her journals in Kurain Village and try to find some info on this painting.”

“Do you think that’ll help?”

“We can try!”

Miles sighed. “I suppose that’s the best we have right now.”

“We’re gonna have to take the painting with us.” Maya turned back to the painting, nodding in determination. “Okay, let me suppress a bit of the painting’s mystical properties for a bit first…”

Maya closed her eyes and murmured chants to herself, the magatama around her neck starting to glow. Guessing that it’d probably take a bit, Miles went outside of the room and called the secretary of the prosecutor’s office, telling her that he had an urgent matter to attend to. After he finished the call, he sighed as he put his phone back in his pocket, staring at the ceiling like it had all of the solutions to this situation, it didn’t. He was worried, who wouldn’t be? Phoenix had been in many absurd and worrying predicaments yes, but being stuck in a painting? How was that even possible? And Maya said something about the painting hurting his soul…which didn’t sound good at all.

Hearing the door open, Miles turned to see Maya carrying the painting, which had her magatama necklace wrapped around the canvas. Their eyes met, and she nodded solemnly.

They needed to figure this whole thing out.

Miles just hoped that Phoenix was safe.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

Miles waited anxiously in the meditation room, staring at the door to the channeling chamber.

When they got to Kurain Village, neither of them had time to look around, and Maya immediately led him to the meditation room. Pearl was already there with a box of magatamas and a pile of old journals with worn leather covers and yellowed paper, Maya texted her about their predicament with Phoenix and the painting. Maya took the magatamas and journals with her inside the channeling chamber, telling Miles and Pearl to sit outside and wait for her to come out once she finally figured out any information about the painting. Miles couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the door, thick and heavy and probably muffling any sound from inside. Every now and again though, flashes of different colored lights flashed from underneath the door crack.

The afternoon was deceptively warm and pleasant, almost mocking him. Miles knew that staring at the door wasn’t making the time go faster, but it was the only thing that he could do right now. Pearl was sitting on the floor, legs crossed and her eyes closed, she was meditating. Miles didn’t know how she was so relaxed, because he certainly wasn’t. He stared at the door a little more, paced around the room hoping to occupy his mind with something—it didn’t work, and then he ended up right where he was, staring at the door like it was helping, it wasn’t. Miles was starting to feel antsy, what was taking so long?

“She’s taking so long.” Miles commented in a grumble.

Pearl opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Are you doubting Mystic Maya?”

“No! Dear lord, no.” Miles said, sighing as he sat next to her. “I’m just worried.”

“I am too, Mr. Edgeworth. But Mystic Maya knows what she’s doing.” Pearl said, then adding. “Don’t worry! Everything will turn out okay.”

“I wish it were that easy.” Miles said with a sigh.

Pearl frowned, but she said nothing.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Maya unlocked the door and went outside, holding the box of magatamas in one hand and the journals in the other. If Miles looked past her, he could see the painting still in the channeling chamber. Maya looked solemn, more serious than he’d ever seen her in his life, and it was definitely worrying.

“It’s…it’s worse than I thought.” Maya murmured. “I thought Mystic Ami got rid of these things…guess not.”

Pearl and Miles shot each other confused looks.

“What do you mean, Mystic Maya?” Pearl asked.

“Is Wright okay?” Miles added.

Maya was silent for a moment, before she said gravely. “It’s an escapism artifact.”

Pearl gasped in horror.

“Uh…” Miles was confused. “…What?”

“Centuries ago, when Mystic Ami first came to Japanifornia, she discovered a bunch of cursed objects all over the city.” Maya said, taking out one of the journals and putting it on the floor. She opened it to a page of different objects drawn in ink. “They were potent in spiritual power, they pulled in anyone who came across them into worlds of wonder and joy.”

“They kept them trapped there by making the person never want to leave.” Pearl added. “And the longer the soul stayed…the more bonded it became with its spiritual powers.”

“Nobody knows who made them and why, the only thing we know about them is that they try to keep any souls bonded to it, bonded…forever.” Maya continued, and she sighed. “I thought Mystic Ami got rid of all of them, but…I guess she didn’t.”

“Oh lord, this sounds bad.” Miles said with a groan.

“Yeah, it’s really bad. Normally, we’d just use magatamas of departing to separate Nick’s soul from the painting…but its power is so potent that we’d need around twenty of them, and we only have five charged ones in Kurain Village right now.” Maya said.

“Seriously?” Miles groaned. “Oh dear lord…”

Maya grimaced. “It gets worse.”

“How can it possibly get worse?”

“Well, the painting’s spiritual powers feed off of souls, so…it’s probably feeding off of Nick’s soul.”

Pearl’s eyes widened, horrified. “Oh no, Mr. Nick!”

“I-It’s feeding off of his soul?!” Miles stammered, half in bafflement and half in horror.

“Yeah…I don’t know how long he has until his soul has completely depleted in energy.” Maya said.

“Dear lord…” Miles tried to calm the panicked storm of thoughts in his head, panicking wouldn’t do them any good. “What can we do?”

“I can try contacting any distant relatives of the Feys for more magatamas of departing, but it’ll take a while, and that’s if they respond to us and agree to send us some.” Maya said, and then she added reluctantly. “…And I don’t think we have enough time.”

“Is there anything else we can do?” Miles asked, he was desperate at this point.

“I…I don’t know.” Maya sounded desperate too, and hopeless.

Pearl looked in deep thought, and then she spoke up. “Well…there is one thing we can do.” She added when Miles and Maya turned to her. “A dangerous thing.”

“What is it, Pearly?” Maya asked.

“Someone can go in the painting…and retrieve Mr. Nick themselves.” Pearl said.

“Pearly!” Maya glared at Pearl like she suggested they jump into an active volcano. “We can’t do that!”

“I don’t know what else we can do, Mystic Maya! It’s the only way to save Mr. Nick!”

“I know, but the two of us can’t go in. Our powers might mess with the painting’s and make it even worse.” Maya said.

“You have a point…” Pearl conceded, frowning.

“And besides, I won’t let you do it even if you weren’t a Fey. You’re just a kid, Pearly.” Maya added.

Pearl nodded, the frown never leaving her face.

“Wait a second…” Miles got an idea. “If you need someone without spiritual powers…why don’t I do it?”

Maya and Pearl both looked at each other, and Maya said. “That…might work.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it, Mr. Edgeworth?” Pearl asked. “It’s dangerous.”

“Even if I’m not, it’s the only thing we can do.” Miles replied, determination coursing through his veins. Phoenix had risked his life enough times for him, about time Miles did the same for him, though he didn’t say that part out loud. “I’m willing to do it.”

“…Okay.” Pearl said, then adding more quietly. “Please stay safe, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“I will.” Miles replied.

“Alright, I guess you’re doing this.” Maya said, sighing as she added. “Hold on, let me get the painting and a few things…” Maya ran back to the channeling chamber, returning with the painting and easel, setting them down. She took off the string of baubles and magatamas tied around the canvas, and she turned to Pearl. “Give him the opal magatama.”

Pearl nodded, digging through the box of magatamas, procuring one and offering it up to Miles. The magatama was milky white, with flecks of blue and pink and purple, and the stone seemed to be reflecting every color in the rainbow.

Miles raised a brow at the opalescent magatama, taking it in his hands. “What is this for?”

“It’s our strongest magatama of protection.” Pearl said, then adding. “It’s so that your psyche won’t be affected by the painting’s powers.”

“But even then, the painting might try to convince you to stay, so it could feed off of your soul too.” Maya said, then adding in a stone cold serious voice. “Whatever you do, do not listen to it.”

“Of course.” Miles said, pocketing the magatama.

“With how long Nick’s soul has been in there, his mind may be affected by the painting’s powers. You’re gonna have to ground his soul to shatter the painting’s effects.” Maya added.

“How do I do that?” Miles asked.

“Just say something that will shock his mind enough into shattering the effects.” Maya said.

“I see. Is there anything else I need to know? Anything else I need to expect?” Miles asked.

“Just trust your intuition, Edgeworth.” Maya said, then adding. “The magatama will help clear your head to see the truth. If you feel in your gut that something isn’t right, it isn’t. If you feel in your gut that the Nick you’re looking at is real, he is.”

“The magatama will guide your soul, Mr. Edgeworth. You just have to listen to it.” Pearl added.

“I see…” Miles nodded.

“You can do this, Edgeworth.” Maya reassured.

“We believe in you, Mr. Edgeworth! Save Mr. Nick!” Pearl cheered him on.

“Alright.” Miles turned to the painting, where the little painted figure of Phoenix basking in the sun was mocking him. “Okay, I can do this.”

Every step felt like it carried the weight of the world as Miles walked up to the painting, where Phoenix was. He brushed his fingertips against the soft canvas of the painting, and like earlier in the morning with Maya, it tried pulling him in, and Miles let it. Soon he was engulfed in the painting’s deceptive painted embrace.

He just needed to find Phoenix, ground his soul or whatever Maya said, and leave. He could do this, he needed to do this.

No matter what it takes.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

When Miles opened his eyes, he found himself in a white void.

Where was he?

Miles looked all around him, confused about where he was. It was an empty space, save for the canvas ground that felt more solid than he expected it would be. Miles wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. Was this the world that the painting was in? Surely not? Aside from the light feathery whispers of a chill breeze, there were no other noises in the void that Miles had found himself in. He didn’t know what to do, except for the fact that he needed to find Phoenix. So, he picked a direction and just started walking, unsure of what he was really supposed to find.

At some point, Miles found a trail of painted snapdragons, colored in hues that Miles had both encountered in his daily life and never seen in his entire life. For some reason, it felt right to follow them, and Miles let the carefully painted flowers guide him to…well, he had no idea. But as he followed the snapdragons, it seemed that a scene emerged from the canvas ground, as if it were being painted right before his very eyes. The colors were familiar, a feeling of déjà vu that clawed at his mind and demanded to be realized, to be recognized, to be heard. And as Miles stood in an active playground filled with the sound of laughing children, he realized.

He knew where he was.

It was the playground in the elementary school where he’d met Phoenix, or at least, an attempt to imitate it. Miles felt like he was looking at his mind trying to recreate a place that existed in such a small part of his life, in those rare nights where his mind was being merciful and didn’t plague him with nightmares. Everything that wasn’t important—the different playground equipment that Miles never played with, the other children that Miles didn’t care about, what was beyond the playground during recess—was fuzzy, like a background painted with messy unblended brushstrokes. Miles wasn’t supposed to pay attention to any of it, the world was telling him. It wasn’t important.

What was important was the three boys that sat under a towering tree, him and Larry and Phoenix, laughing like nothing was as important as whatever game they were playing or homework they were trying to do before recess ended. The tree looked so much taller than Miles was sure it actually was, but when he was young, the tree seemed tall enough to see the entire world once he’d climbed its twisting branches. The world seemed so small back him, just him and his father and school and the people that he loved. Phoenix and Larry always wanted to climb the tree, a human urge to go higher and higher until there was nothing left to climb.

The three of them were more detailed than the messily painted blobs that were the other children. When Miles was younger, only they mattered, and maybe the painting recognized that. Maybe it recognized childhood naiveté and human self-centeredness, showing Miles scenes that he’d tried so hard to banish while studying alone in the von Karma manor.

You missed them when you left, didn’t you?

You never wanted to leave them.

They never wanted you to leave.

Why did you leave?

Why?

They missed you.

Didn’t you miss them?

Miles missed them, thought about them constantly despite trying to bury all thoughts of his life before. Remembering them just hurt him, just beat into his head with coldhearted cruelty a world that was taken out of his hand to be thrown away like it mattered nothing to the world. The littlest things reminded him of the two, crashing into him suffocating memories of a life he was forced to abandon and couldn’t ever return to and never wanted to think of again. They were just holding him back from perfection, from imprisoning criminals that deserved no mercy. After all, he never got any mercy, so why should they?

And, on nights when he felt like the most selfish person in the entire world, Miles wanted to return to them. He wanted to play with them and talk about things that didn’t matter, and finally climb that tree like they always joked that they would. Would he see the whole world from atop the branches? He always wondered that while trying not to cry in his bedroom at the cold emptiness of his life, wondered if he’d scrape his knee on the rough bark as he climbed the tree, uncaring about anything except going higher and higher. And then he’d see it, the sight of what he knew as his entire life, small enough to be held in a child’s hands.

It was just them, always just them, in that little elementary school playground that seemed to be the only thing to exist, in those few minutes in recess before they went back to class.

Why couldn’t he return to that?

You can stay with them.

Stay here forever and ever.

Stay here with everyone you love.

Never leave them.

Doesn’t that sound like pure bliss?

With them, happy every day.

They just want you to be happy.

I just want you to be happy.

It was whispering to him, whispering with concern and worry and genuine love. Love that for most of his life he had been denied, that he craved so desperately and pathetically. The smiles on Phoenix and Larry’s faces made it feel like a knife was repeatedly plunged into his heart, knowing he could never go back. This was the past, there was no going back to the past, no matter how much he cried and begged and screamed and cried and cried and CRIED.

But this painting gave him the chance, reaching out to him like the branches of a tree reached out to the heavens.

Sit down.

Sit down and only they will matter.

Sit under the tree.

Don’t climb it.

Just sit down under it.

Join them.

Join them and be happy.

Never leave them ever again.

No.

That’s what the painting wanted him to do.

Miles could feel the opalescent magatama in his pocket pulsing with power, shielding him from the painting’s effects. It whispered so sweetly, so kindly, so genuinely. But it was all a lie, the magatama kept reminding him. The past couldn’t be returned to, he already knew this, knew it the moment that he saw Phoenix again in the courtroom. What grows from the ashes was what was important, not the tragedy of the ashes themselves. Miles walked up to the three boys, their laughter a mocking sound that Miles knew that he would never return to, days which were full of wonder and bliss.

And that was fine.

He accepted it years ago.

Miles looked around, surely there was a way out, right?

The tree, the painting mentioned the tree…

Miles looked up, seeing every leaf painted with delicate care and loving precision. The tree seemed to stretch out into infinity, tall enough to reach the gods and talk to them and plead with them to make the world a better place. Why did the painting not want him to climb the tree? There must have been a reason, Miles knew.

And then he saw it.

An ornate frame leading to another painting, perched on the top like a Christmas star.

He knew what he needed to do.

Grabbing the squelching bark of the tree, Miles started climbing, tightly gripping the tree as he went higher and higher and higher. Every inch of his skin in contact with the bark felt like it was being doused in red hot lava and white blinding pain, but he kept going anyways. It seemed to take forever, climbing the tree. Every second that he could feel the soft wet bark squishing underneath his grasp, it was pure pain and torturous agony. But he kept going, even when his body begged for the pain to stop, even when he wanted to rest, even when it’d be so easy to give up. But Phoenix wouldn’t give up, had he been in Miles’ shoes. No, he would complain but keep going, for the people he loved. And if Phoenix could do it, why shouldn’t he?

When he made it to the top, he truly saw the entire world, or at least the one that the painting had created. Canvas stretched out as far as the eye could see, potential for such beauty and such horrors, and Miles knew that no matter which one it was, he’d have to face it. He turned to the frame leading to the next world that the painting had created, the canvas looking like a black abyss. It couldn’t mean good things, but he had to do it.

For Phoenix.

Miles stepped into the painting, and he was engulfed in darkness.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

The darkness was all encompassing.

Miles was in a void of painted darkness, he couldn’t see much, but he knew that the place he was in was too small. The walls were closing in on him, practically suffocating him. Too small to hold him and whoever else was in the room. A part of Miles knew where he was, even if he couldn’t place a name to the walls that trapped him. It was a part of him that he didn’t understand or even think was there, raw primal fear that screamed at him to get out of there. Miles felt his way through the room, unsure of where he was going or where he was, only knowing that he had to leave as soon as possible.

And then, in a sudden flash, the lights turned on, flooding the room and blinding Miles with their cruel harsh glow. Miles instantly knew where he was.

The elevator.

It was the night that Miles’ life changed for the rest of his life, taking him away from the blissful life that he had once had. The day had started so normally, and one night had his life crumbling apart in a way he couldn’t have ever expected. Three people were passed out on the floor of the elevator, trapped in the elevator without any hope of escape. Gregory Edgeworth, Yanni Yogi, and a younger version of himself, and none of them would ever leave as the same person ever again. Miles couldn’t make out their—and his—faces, painted with messy unblended brushstrokes, like his mind was trying to recreate the face of a person he’d never seen before in his life.

Nightmares of this very night plagued him, the walls that sucked out oxygen and life with every passing second, the screaming as Yanni Yogi and his father struggled, the loud scream that haunted Miles for as long as he lived—even until now. And here it was now, recreated in careful painted detail, almost mocking him for ever wanting to move on. Miles wanted to leave, never wanted to think about this night ever again in his life. Never wanted to see the limp figures of Yogi and his father, never wanted to be suffocated as the oxygen slowly depleted, never wanted to feel the cold metal of the gun that he thought he shot his father with. The gun lay at Miles’ feet, the glint of the metal in the light practically blinding him.

Miles wanted to look away, to ignore what would soon become the brutal scene of his father’s death.

But he couldn’t.

This part of your life, you hate it, don’t you?

You lost everything.

Everything you loved, gone.

Gone in an instant.

Because of you.

Now isn’t that sad?

He wished, every night that he woke up from a nightmare or every day that his mind reminded him of what he lost, that this part of his life would disappear. It was a foolish dream, one he begged and begged to become true as he cried alone in his bedroom on cold lonely nights. Maybe it’d come true, maybe he’d wake up and it was all a nightmare and he was back to his blissful life with his father and friends, but every time he woke up in his bed in von Karma manor he knew it could never come true, that hoping was useless. And despite how much he tried to bury his selfish hopes, it came crawling out from the grave, haunting him with the knowledge that they’d never come true.

His old life, the people he loved who he left behind, it died along with his father on that fateful night that he lost everything.

But…did it have to be?               

The painting, it whispered to him, it promised him.

Did it really have to be?

I can take it away.

Erase this part of your life.

The buttons, they’re there.

Just one press.

Floor four.

And this part of your life disappears.

You can leave it behind.

It won’t be a part of you anymore.

The elevator’s buttons blinked to life, beckoning him, pleading to him.

It would be so easy, to press the button to the fourth floor, to forget this all ever happened. He’d wake up in his bed, his father would greet him with a good morning when he came downstairs for breakfast. He’d go to school and play with Larry and Phoenix, and he’d laugh and forget that night like it was just a bad dream. It was all he ever wanted, wasn’t it? For that part of his life to never exist? The buttons blinked with bright red temptation, telling him to press them to forget the worst parts of his life, to join the delicately painted world that promised a life with no more pain, no more fear, no more hurt.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

The magatama pulsed with power, trying to shield him from painting’s sweet promises, but it could only do so much. It was Miles’ choice whether he pressed the button or not. And some part of him, some part of him that was listening to the painting, wanted to press the button. He could hear it, his soul screaming and fighting against the promises of the painting, because they were empty. Because if he did, if he let himself get swayed into living in a fake world, then what? He’d be trapped in the painting. Did he want to do that? Did he want to abandon the life he’d built now, a life he was now happy with despite its rocky foundations? What about the people he loved waiting on the other side of the canvas? What about Maya? Or Franziska? Or Larry?

Or Phoenix?

That man was still stuck in the painting, Miles needed to get him out of here, even when the life that the painting promised sounded so blissful.

Miles looked at the gun at his feet, and his expression hardened.

He knew what he had to do.

Miles picked up the gun, and shot the door.

A pained scream that haunted Miles for his entire life rang through the elevator, loud and deafening and sending a primal fear in him, a sound that would render anyone into a sobbing mess. Miles stood and closed his eyes, tried to ignore the tears of fear that wanted to spill from his eyes and flood the room. The scream was long, drawn out, seeming to shake the elevator’s unstable foundation. It was von Karma, Miles knew that now. It was Phoenix who discovered that in court, who defended him with his life and believed it until the very end. It was only right that he repay him, right? Miles had a lot to be grateful for when it came to Phoenix.

So Miles waited out the scream, even though the fear assaulted him in crashing suffocating waves. The lights started to flicker, practically blinding as the elevator was bathed in darkness then flooded with light then bathed in darkness and then flooded with light again and again and again. It seemed to last an eternity, never ever stopping and forever lasting. When the lights flickered one last time, it stayed turned on, and Miles had to avert his eyes from the sight of his father, blood trickling down his chest and staining his clothes. It was all over, Miles kept reminding himself as he tried to let the fear coursing through him die down.

It was all over.

And then…

Ding!

The elevator door opened, flooding the elevator in a harsh white glow, and outside Miles saw the frame that led to the next world. He didn’t know where it would lead him to, but did that really matter? He just needed to persevere, to keep going, and maybe he would reach Phoenix.

Miles stepped out of the elevator and grazed the soft canvas of the painting, letting it pull him in to…wherever it wanted to take him.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

The scent of blueberry pie wafted through the air.

Miles found himself in a cozy living room, the warmth of painted sunshine pleasant on his skin. It was a far cry from the dark abyss that was the last world, bathed in gentle light instead of harsh blinding lights. It looked like a recreation of home, like someone who’d forgotten what love felt like scrambling to recreate it. Warm and pleasant on the surface, yet hues of ignored blue melancholy just out of reach and easily forgotten. Miles had no idea where he was, he’d never been here before. He wandered through the house, each room more welcoming than the last. When he finally made it to the kitchen, where the smell of blueberry pie was the strongest, he saw him.

Phoenix Wright.

Phoenix was wearing a ruffled apron as he hummed to himself, cutting slices of delectable looking pie. It was something out of his dreams and hopes, of the life that Miles could have made with him had he been brave enough. When he met the man again, Miles had kept wishing he was brave enough to tell him the love that swelled in his chest every time he saw him. The same fondness washed over him in gentle waves, along with relief. Miles could see the brushstrokes that made up Phoenix’s form, but that meant nothing right? Phoenix had been in the painting for two days, maybe it was his soul’s energy being depleted, joining the rest of the paint.

Right?

Phoenix noticed Miles, and his face lit up as he greeted cheerily. “Hi, Miles! How was your trial?”

“Wright?” Miles said softly, had he finally reached him? “Is that you?”

“Huh?” Phoenix’s brow knitted in confusion. “Wright? Why are you calling me that?”

“What?” Miles frowned. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. “That’s what I’ve called you for years.”

“Pffft.” Phoenix snickered. “You call your husband by his last name?”

No.

No.

This wasn’t real.

The man smiling at him with such love and adoration, it was all a lie. He was made of paint and lies and empty promises, all wrapped in a neat apron and a loving smile that Miles had hoped to see for years now. This wasn’t Phoenix Wright, even though he’d dreamed that it would be, hoped and prayed for him to envelop him in a loving embrace, to kiss him in the mornings before they went to work, to smile at him like he truly loved him. He looked fake, now that Miles took a closer look at him. Smiled with teeth too perfect, with hair that looked so soft that it’d probably crumble to pieces if he ran his fingers through it, eyes that sparkled too brightly to the point that it was blinding—a flimsy recreation of how beautiful Phoenix’s eyes shone in the sunlight.

The painted figure of the man he loved, it was all a lie.

“You’re not Wright.” Miles murmured.

“Huh?” Painting Phoenix looked confused.

“You’re not…” Miles’ voice came out in broken gasps. “You’re not Phoenix Wright.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Painting Phoenix asked in concern, Miles knew it was fake. “Are you okay, Miles?”

“You’re not real. The painting made you.”

“Painting? What painting? Seriously, I’m worried now. Did you hit your head? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

No.

No, it was all lying to him.

He couldn’t stay here, he needed to find Phoenix.

The real Phoenix.

“I…I can’t- I need to go.”

“Wait, Miles!”

Phoenix grabbed him, and his skin felt squishy and smelled like pungent turpentine. Every inch of their skin contact felt like burning torturous pain. Miles couldn’t scream, his words sticking to his throat like thick suffocating tar. The scent of blueberry and fake love was saccharine and dizzying and made Miles want to vomit. It was too warm now, practically scorching, the painting taking his gentle love and making a forest fire with it to lure Miles into its fake perfect world. It would be so easy, to stay here, to live the life he always wanted and to be selfish and leave everyone outside waiting and leave the real Phoenix here to be stuck from now until the end of time.

But he couldn’t.

Because none of this was true, it was as false as a lie told in a sickeningly sweet whisper.

He couldn’t stay.

“Why would you leave me? Don’t you love me?”

Don’t you love him?

Don’t you want him?

Want him more than anything else in the world.

I can give you everything you want.

Everything you’ve dreamed of.

So won’t you stay?

“I- you’re not real.” Miles said, desperate and weak. “You’re not the real Phoenix Wright. I need to leave.”

“Why? Why would you leave me again?” Painting Phoenix said, his voice shaky and looking on the brink of tears. “Don’t you want to stay with me, Miles?”

You’d be so happy.

So happy.

Don’t you want to be happy?

You can stay here.

All of your worries, gone.

With him.

Doesn’t that sound amazing?

Don’t you love him?

“Don’t you love me, Miles?”

He loves you too.

Loves you dearly.

Loves you more than anything in the world.

Don’t you want this?

Don’t you?

Don’t you?

DON’T YOU?

“SHUT UP! YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

The magatama shone in his pocket, and in an instant, the world broke. It shattered like glass, oil paint breaking into a million tiny pieces. Miles looked around him, saw the shards of the world broken on the ground, replaced by the same white void of canvas that he found himself in when he first entered. No fake painting Phoenix, no too warm kitchen with the scent of sickening sweet blueberry, no painted sunrays that kissed the room in a soft glow, nothing, just the canvas of opportunity for people to make memories—real memories—on. As Miles scanned the area for anything of note, anything to do, his eyes widened when he saw a painting, of a cozy cottage in a flower field.

The one where Phoenix was in.

This was it!

This was where Phoenix was stuck in!

Miles practically ran to the frame, uncaring about anything except for Phoenix Wright as he jumped in, letting vibrant colors and vivid hues engulf him.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

Miles found himself in a grass field with sweet smelling wildflowers.

He made it!

This place…Phoenix was here!

He stood in the middle of a lush grass field, every blade of grass and blooming wildflower painted with meticulous vivid detail. It was exactly like the painting, the same gentle warm sun, the same soft grass on his skin, the same flowers that bloomed in vibrant bursts of colors, the same little cottage that would make anyone feel at home. It was so quiet, aside from the rustling of leaves and grass as they danced along with the breeze. But despite how beautiful it looked, Miles could feel that it was dead, something that felt too perfect to ever truly be genuine. The flowers too colorful, the sky too blue, the cottage too inviting.

The magatama in Miles’ pocket was practically blinding with how much it pulsed with power and life, that must’ve meant this was the right place. Miles surveyed the area, and relief washed over him like warm waters when he saw Phoenix, sitting on the porch. He wasn’t painted like the Painting Phoenix trying to convince him to stay, or the painted scene of the cottage and the flower field, he looked real. He looked out of place in the carefully crafted world, but that was how Miles knew that he’d found him. The magatama pulsed with power in his pocket, warm and fuzzy and frenzied. It, along with his heart, knew.

This was Phoenix Wright.

“Wright!” Miles ran up to Phoenix, he’d never been gladder to see the man. “There you are! I found you!”

Phoenix turned to him, and when Miles saw his eyes, his stomach dropped in dread.

His eyes looked so dead.

Miles adored Phoenix’s eyes, they were so vibrant and vivid with life. Flickering with determination, soft with fondness, melancholy dancing like moonlight on a night lake, they were always so dynamic and alive. But no, there was none of it here. None of the resolve or affection or sadness that Miles had seen in the black seas that were his eyes, there was nothing. Nothing except painted perfection that Miles had started to hate at this point. He hated it, loathed, despised, whatever else fucking synonym of the word. The light in his eyes was dead, Miles didn’t know how much longer the rest of his soul had.

How much had the painting affected him?

“Isn’t it beautiful here?” Phoenix said, an empty smile on his lips. “I’ve always dreamed of a place like this.”

“No…no, NO!” Miles grabbed Phoenix’s face, shook him, anything to bring life back in his eyes. “Wright! Listen to me! We need to leave!”

“Why would you ever want to leave?” Phoenix said, laughing. His laugh sounded hollow, like he didn’t remember how to laugh but knew he had to. “It’s so gorgeous here.”

“Wright, this place is wrong. It’s not real.”

“Why can’t it be real? It’s so pretty, anyone would wanna stay…”

“Don’t listen to it, Wright!” Fuck, what did Maya say? Ground him? Shock him? “Maya burnt down the Wright & Co. Law Offices!” Miles almost sobbed when Phoenix didn’t react. “She killed a man!”

“…Right here, you don’t have to worry about life. You don’t have to worry about anything horrible in the world…”

“Pearl killed a man too! The entire Kurain Village! Everyone is dead! There was a tsunami in Japanifornia!”

“…Why did I ever worry so much? I could just stay here and enjoy the view forever….”

“You can’t! Because…Larry is dying, too! Maya killed him!” Miles was desperate at this point. Fuck, nothing was working. “Dammit, Wright! Listen to me!”

“…Life is so hard sometimes, and it’s so peaceful here…” Phoenix wasn’t listening.

“Wright, please! I’ve tried and tried! But I don’t know what to do, or how to ground you, or how to show you I care. Wright, please listen to me. Because I…I…”

“…It makes me want to stay forever and-”

“-I love you!”

The vivid shine in Phoenix’s eyes came back, a spark of life. He turned to Miles, more clarity in his eyes than in a divine epiphany. “What was that?”

“I…” Did Miles get to him? “I love…” He reached out and tenderly cupped Phoenix’s cheek, struck by how warm and soft and real he felt. “I love you, I love you so much Phoenix. I care about you more than you can ever imagine.”

The light was swimming in his eyes, surprise and life that Miles had never been gladder to see. His eyes were beautiful, reflecting every color in the rainbow, beautiful like topaz gems in the sunlight, the real sunlight. And behind that light, there was affection, a fondness that softened his eyes into a gentle shade of brown.

“…I love you too.” Phoenix whispered.

The whole world shook, its foundation unsteady and the bond with Phoenix’s soul broken. Shards of sharp oil paint shattered and fell from the sky, crushing everything in sight. The colors all blended and blurred with each other into muddy colors, the vibrant hues disappearing into brown mush. The paint on every blade of grass and every blooming flower cried in misery as chunks of the blue painted sky crushed them. The world was falling apart right before their very eyes, no longer able to hold its own spiritual weight. Miles yelped and jumped out of the way as a chunk of fallen oil painted canvas almost crushed him to death.

“What the…?”

“Shit.” Miles cursed. “Maya didn’t say that would happen.”

“We should leave.” Phoenix said.

“Already ahead of you.” Miles replied.

He grabbed Phoenix’s wrist and they ran, they ran faster than they were kids and played tag with each other in the playground. Miles didn’t know where they were running to, letting his legs take him as far away from the cottage and the grass field as possible. He heard the sound of thick oil paint colliding with the floor, of canvas tearing and crumpling into tiny pieces. They needed to run, to run and run and keep running. Miles practically sobbed in relief when he saw the frame of a painting, the meditation room on the other side of the canvas.

That was it! Their way out!

Just before the world could collapse in on itself, Phoenix and Miles jumped into the frame, exiting the paintscape and escaping to the real world.

━━━━ ❰ ･ ❉ ･ ❱ ━━━━

When Miles looked up, he practically sobbed in relief when he saw the meditation room.

They were back.

Miles had never been more relieved to see the Fey manor, or to feel the warmth of the sunshine on his skin. The meditation room welcomed them with brown walls and the thick locked channeling chamber door. Miles caught his breath, his legs feeling a little sore from all of the running. He reached into his pocket, feeling the magatama now cold and devoid of any power, it must’ve run out of energy. When Maya and Pearl looked up, both sitting down and meditating, their faces lit up in grateful joy as they both got up and ran up to them.

“Edgeworth! Nick!” Maya looked relieved to see them. “You got him out!”

“You two are back!” Pearl said, looking just as relieved as her cousin. “Mr. Edgeworth! You did it!”

“Here.” Miles handed the magatama to Maya. “It worked spectacularly in there.”

“I knew it would.” Maya replied, and then she hummed in thought. “Huh, the magatama is all out of juice. That painting really was strong.”

“Maya? Pearls? Edgeworth?” Phoenix’s eyes were unfocused, he looked on the verge of passing out. “What…where’s the…the…”

Miles barely caught Phoenix before he fell to the ground, looking up at Maya in concern. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, his soul probably just got drained of a lot of its energy while he was in that painting.” Maya said, then adding. “Let him get some rest, we’ll surround him with healing candles to help speed up the soul replenishing process.”

“I’ll get the candles!” Pearl said.

Maya let Phoenix rest in one of the side rooms, lighting a few candles in the room and filling the air with a sweet floral scent. Somebody needed to watch the candles and make sure they didn’t burn the room down, so Miles volunteered to stay, and he also needed to rest too. The side room was comfortable and welcoming, and Miles sat down next to a sleeping Phoenix. Miles spent most of his time scrolling through the emails on his phone, responding to any urgent matters that the prosecutor’s office forwarded to him while he was out. He could work while resting, after all.

It was so surreal how real the sunlight felt here, unlike the artificial painstakingly painted light in the paintings. Miles looked up from his phone, he could see the path leading to the rest of the rooms in Fey manor, and the sunlight that streamed through the wide windows and paper doors of the room. Miles let himself take in the warm sunlight, the serene stillness of Kurain Village. He glanced at Phoenix, who was peacefully asleep on one of the mats, and he smiled a little. Phoenix was safe, that’s all that mattered. He’d do anything to make sure that he was safe.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Miles heard him softly groan. He looked at Phoenix, whose eyes slowly fluttered open, and a small smile made its way to his face when he saw Miles.

“…Edgeworth?” He murmured, soft as the feathers of a baby bird. “You’re here.”

“And you’re here too.” Miles replied.

“What happened? I don’t remember much…”

“You got trapped in a cursed painting.” Miles explained. “You’ve been trapped for two days.”

“Yeesh, it feels like a century.” Phoenix said, groaning as he sat up.

“Careful.” Miles chided gently. “Maya says that most of your soul’s energy got depleted.”

Phoenix snorted out a laugh. “Must be why I feel like shit.”

“I think anyone would.” Miles said, and then he asked. “What do you remember from being in the painting? I’m very…curious.”

“Hmmm…” Phoenix frowned in thought. “Like I said, not much. It’s kinda mostly colors and stuff.”

“I see…”

“…But, I do remember one thing.” Phoenix said, and he looked at Miles curiously. “You said you loved me.”

“A-Ah!” Miles laughed awkwardly, of course he remembered that. “I was panicking and I may have…blurted out some unnecessary feelings I’ve been holding in.” He remembered the softness of Phoenix’s voice as he said those four words he’d been hoping to hear. Did Phoenix mean it? “I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. Y’know, cause I meant it.” Phoenix said, his face softening with a gentle smile. “That I loved you too. I mean, it was probably dangerous trying to get my ass out of there, so it feels…nice to know that you care about me so much.” He reached out, tucking a stray lock of Miles’ gray hair. “I really did mean every word I said.”

“Wright…”

Phoenix smiled as he leaned in, capturing Miles’ lips in a gentle kiss.

It was gentle as the first flight of a bird, as sweet as the first strawberries that ripened in the spring, as loving as the embrace of an angel protecting you from despair and evil. Miles never wanted to leave, the true beauty of the world around him, where horrible things existed, yet such wonderful things as love existed too. As the two separated from their kiss, Miles smiled at the sight of Phoenix’s face, his cheeks dusted with a light pink. No painting could ever recreate the gorgeous sight that Miles saw right before his very eyes.

“Get some rest, Wright.” Miles said, pressing a chaste kiss on Phoenix’s forehead. “We can discuss our first date when you’re fully rested.”

Phoenix snickered. “Planning ahead, huh?”

“Would you rather we not?”

“Hey, I never said that!”

Miles rolled his eyes, though he was smiling.

He blew out all of the candles and went outside to take a stroll around Kurain Village. Miles looked up at the sky, at the fluffy white clouds floating lazily through the wide sexpanse of blue, and he’d never appreciated the true beauty of the world around him as he did now.