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1. The lemon from his drink.
They were out together at a restaurant, dining to celebrate some inane victory Gavin had won in court. It seemed he'd thoroughly trounced a veteran prosecutor, turning her into a senile old lady, instead of the near-regal force she'd been known as before. Normally, he kept the work part of himself quiet. Triumph seemed to have made him more chatty, and he smugly waxed poetic about himself. If he pushed more insensitive remarks, Phoenix chose not to care. It was water under the bridge and over the rocks, sitting between the melting ice cubes at the bottom of his drink. Phoenix attempted to perk up, but it was difficult. And Gavin, emboldened by his win, plucked the lemon straight from his glass and put it on his own.
"Hey!"
He squeezed it, pulp, seeds, and juice sliding into his drink.
"Oh, did you plan to flavor the melting ice in your glass?"
When phrased like that, the complaint seemed unreasonable. Gavin laughed condescendingly, knowing exactly what Phoenix was thinking.
"It's not as if you couldn't get another with your free water."
Which was true, but the impetuous action didn't bother him any less.
2. A kiss.
Gavin must have had something a touch stronger than he was used to. Maybe in the time he'd snuck away to accept a call from Edgeworth, he'd ordered another. Phoenix only saw him have one drink, and it was certainly what the bill seemed to suggest. But he teetered ever-so-slightly on his usually graceful feet, and was acting strange. Phoenix offered to escort him home, just to be on the safe side. He missed how his smile altered. Softly curving, a cat over a dish of cream.
They slowly walked back, savouring the gentle warmth of the evening, and absently talking. Eventually, he had to hold the man by his shoulders, curling an arm around his slight build. When they reached the front of his snobby townhouse, that changed. The support turned into an embrace. He was pushed against the door and kissed by very, very sober lips. There was no alcohol on his breath, just the satisfaction of leading him this far.
Phoenix realized- as a certain prosecutor would say- that he was a fool. Never questioning what else Gavin might be trying to achieve, believing that really, there wasn't anything suspicious about his tipsy state. Now he was pinned by the hips, and deeply regretting his choice to shower that day. He'd seen how the man would wrinkle his nose in distaste when he wore the same clothes twice a week, or went long, sweaty days without washing.
"This wouldn't be happening if I was greasy and had stubble," he decided. Aloud, he said, "You're drunk."
Gavin stopped fumbling with the keys to his house, and looked up, bemused.
"Am I?"
They both knew it had been a ploy to get him this far.
"I-I can't." he stammered. "Trucy-"
Fluttering kisses began along his neck. That alone made it tempting to give in.
"Is twelve now," he paused to say this, and Phoenix shuddered. "More than old enough to be home alone."
Slender fingers combed and tangled with his hair. It felt so nice that he couldn't hide the sigh which escaped him.
"I shouldn't."
He'd only just started to understand he had feelings for someone else. Now he was trying to sort through them. With hope and much imagination, he tried to construct a flawless future with him. But the tickling breath against his collarbone was in the present. The offer was right there, not waiting for him in Europe.
"You can leave afterwards," he coyly went on. "It's not as if you've no choice but to spend the night."
3. The covers.
He spent the night.
Phoenix lay spreadeagled on his back, staring at the ceiling and hating himself.
His phone screen lit the room blue for a moment. There was a reassuring text from his daughter, only now telling him that she was more than fine to be home alone overnight. It was barely ten, according to his cell's time. Then it winked out, abandoning him in darkness.
Cold and sticky did not make for a good combination.
Gavin had curled up on his side of the bed, jealously clutching the duvet. Fighting for the covers in his sleep had obviously wound up in failure. The idea of snuggling nice and close for warmth ended with a resounding "no." He didn't want to feel the impossibly soft brush of skin against his own again. The allure would make him fall deeper, further into the jet black which already enveloped the room.
"Would it be weird if I got up and put my clothes back on?" Phoenix wondered to himself.
Yes, it would be, and Phoenix was afraid of waking him up.
So he remained stationary, trembling and wishing he could be anywhere else.
4. A plane ticket.
It was missing, and he must have turned the entire Agency upside down searching for it. His plane ticket. Phoenix knew it had to be somewhere in the room because he'd left it there before taking Trucy to the train station. It was a Friday, and she would spend the weekend in Kurain with Pearls while he was gone. But, when he returned to the office to grab his suitcase, he couldn't find the ticket.
He'd checked between the piano- twice. Crawling on his hands and knees, he inspected under the tables, the desk. Phoenix's heart began to hammer in his chest. There was only a few hours until his flight, this was not the kind of stress that he needed. Frustrated tears sprang from the corners of his eyes, but he fought back a sob. There would be no crying until there was no time left. But he hated the idea of missing the flight, having to call Edgeworth and tell him about the trouble he'd run into. He could already hear the irritation in the man's voice, and that inspired him to pull books out of the shelf for a third time.
"What are you doing?"
Phoenix was surprised at his sudden appearance, but didn't show it.
"Redecorating," Phoenix said, voice flat. He peeked inside one of Trucy's magic props, hoping it would be there. "I like the place to be nice and messy when I come back home."
"Mhm."
Now he could feel his stare. Eyes bored into the back of his head, and analysed the situation.
"You're going out?" Gavin lightly asked.
Phoenix's thoughts flitted to the man lounging on his sofa. In the past, he'd shown displeasure for "mysteriously leaving yet again." Then he dismissed it as silly.
"Well, I'd love to stay and help," he rose from his seat. "But it was just my intention to ask you to dinner. My recess is over soon, and they'll need me back at the courthouse."
"Later," he muttered, rolling up the edges of the carpet.
"Try searching based upon the breeze. With the window open, you never know where it could have blown."
With that parting remark, he was gone. Phoenix would search another hour before finding the ticket. Charley had been holding on to it the entire time, it seemed. Phoenix mentally chided the plant, wondering if he'd finally grown sentience and hidden his plane ticket. But they both knew the answer to that, even if he didn't want to believe the man would do such a thing.
5. His thoughts on glasses.
When he first saw them, an uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut.
Glasses with eerily similar frames sat perched on Edgeworth's nose. He'd picked up all the nuances of wearing them quickly. He could make the lenses flare, concealing his eyes, and push them up in an effortless gesture.
This creeped him out, and Phoenix didn't realize this until he was confronted about it.
"What's the problem?"
Phoenix opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He wanted to speak the truth. But he could easily visualize that behind those opaque lenses were Gavin's blue eyes, rather than Edgeworth's grey. Assessing his every syllable like he might slip up and say something he shouldn't."Yes, what ever is the problem Wright?" they seemed to ask him.
"Just getting used to them is all," Phoenix gave a dismissive shrug, and tapped his nose. "How will I know when you're glaring at me now?"
It should have been a time when he could easily joke with the man about the subject. But now all he could feel was the constricting weight in his stomach.
6. An important moment with his daughter.
They were waiting for him at the airport. Despite his refusals, insistences that he didn't need a ride home, they were there. Phoenix hefted his luggage into the back seat with his daughter, and dodged questions about his visit all the drive home. Phoenix was more evasive than he ever realized he could be, it was practically reflexive at this point in time.
"Why'd you get back from Kurain so early?" Phoenix asked, glancing at Trucy in the mirror.
"It was simpler this way," Gavin answered before Trucy could.
"We got my grad dress!" Trucy excitedly announced.
"Did you?"
"Yeah! It's-"
Trucy launched into great detail about the exact colour, and how many ribbons there were holding the back together. She explained the length of the skirt and just how puffy it was, the layers of sequins which made it glittery, and every other minute aspect she could think of.
Internally, he frowned. It was only graduation from grade eight to high school, but he'd still expected to be the one to take her shopping. He'd put aside little bits of money. There were days when he forewent a meal or two. He'd used the same razor until it was so blunt it couldn't slice butter, rather than forking out the extra for a new one. All of it had added up nicely, so they could go out together and buy something special.
"You had that much time then?" Phoenix asked.
"Some of us know how to schedule," he'd said in response.
"You shouldn't have," Phoenix gave an insincere grin.
Gavin let go of the steering wheel and made an airy gesture with his hand.
"I figured it would make things easier for you."
Trucy was the only bright spot in his life, and now he was trying to dim that too. Phoenix didn't know how he was aware of this, but there was something about the expression on Gavin's face which gave it away.
Then again, he could read the faces of cards. A person was only a step up.
"No really, you shouldn't have."
7. His belief in others.
The day he donned those buttons was the day he understood just what he'd turned into.
He couldn't trust people, he couldn't even confide in those he loved. He was afraid and paranoid. He'd perfected a calm facade. No more sweating nervously when he was cornered, not like in his younger days as an attorney. He wasn't prone to loud emotional outbursts, like his naïve little student self had been. Although, if there was one thing he retained from that part of his life, it was a love for theatrics. And what was more dramatic than hidden spying devices?
Phoenix fixed the buttons to his beanie, and practiced using them in the mirror, understanding how the angles would work from atop his head.
Then he glanced up, catching his dark-circled self in the mirror. God he was a scruffy mess. Insults akin to that couldn't even stick now. Maybe it had to do with how greasy he was. Not showering until his audience complained would do that.
"There, perfect."
All the teachings of Mia- his mentor, a woman who'd saved him more times than he could ever count- went down the drain. They slid from his mind as his hands fiddled with the buttons.
"We never really know if our clients are guilty or innocent. All we can do is believe in them."
Hadn't she taught him that?
Well he wasn't in court. And belief in his client, in trusting others, was what had lead him to the point where he was.
"What would she think of me now?" Phoenix wondered with a mental sigh.
Would Mia hate him?
He did.
But moreover he hated Gavin, for taking away what little he had left.
Fin