Work Text:
A Masterfully Sweet Notebook ~ Ray’s Case Notes Vol. #5
01/02/2002
Case: State vs Yogi
So. It’s a new year.
Those used to be so bright and shining and full of possibility.
...But not this one.
Those TV ads are so full of horsecrap, y’know. The way this is going, my only successful New Year’s resolution will be to finish this tub of Double-Choco Marshmallow Swirl in a single sitting. Well, at least that’s something.
...God. I just… I can’t believe he’s gone.
Mr. Edgeworth. He’s just gone. He went in that elevator and…
If only. If only I’d decided to stay behind with Mr. Edgeworth after that trial… If only… Maybe… just maybe…
...Fuck. I just spilled ice cream all over myself.
Anyway, where was I…? Yeah. So, they’ve brought in this guy, Yanni Yogi, to trial. He had been stuck in the elevator with Mr. Edgeworth… supposedly he had no motive other than plain ol’ desperation. ‘Least that’s what the prosecutor said… not that it’s really helping his case any.
It looks like Yogi’s gonna walk free. That’s it, end of. And I can’t do a damn thing about it… Not until I can get an attorney’s badge for myself, anyways.
...Jesus. What… what am I supposed to do now?
I’ve got no job. There’s already been suits calling in at the office, threatening to sell it off if I don’t get some paperwork sorted, sharpish. I mean, Jesus Christ! It’s barely been a week since Mr. Edgeworth... Why can’t you people just give me a fucking break!? Are you fucking heartless!?
...And then… and then there’s Miles.
That kid… well, to say he hasn’t been doing too well would be the understatement of the century. He was there… in that elevator. He saw it all happen. His old man… dead, right in front of him.
He’s nine. Nine years old. I could never imagine going through something like that at his age. It’s really no small wonder that he’s entirely closed himself off.
He won’t talk, or when he does he just snaps at me. Or starts crying about how much he misses his dad. ...I… I wish I could help him, but he won’t let me. Pushes me away each time I try to hug him. I mean, he’s never been all that good with physical contact… even with family, which is practically what we are… but still. Yesterday I even made us both a chocolate meringue - I got it perfectly fluffy, just the way Master used to do it on Piece of Cake ! But he still wouldn’t eat any of it...
God, I just want to scream and yell at him sometimes for being such an ungrateful little brat... But I know that’s just going to make things worse.
Maybe… maybe I should… maybe I should just let Social Services take him away after all.
I mean… I don’t mind being Uncle Ray, but a full-time dad…? I couldn’t. Not to mention I’m kinda strapped for cash, or at least I will be once I pay all the fees those sharks are extorting me just so I can keep the office in Mr. Edgeworth’s name… And then maybe Miles will have -
No - no, I can’t. I can’t just… just give him away like that. No matter how much Social Services hound me about it… Miles and the offices are Mr. Edgeworth’s legacy. What kind of protege would I be if I didn’t protect them…?
Maybe that’s selfish of me. Okay, it’s definitely selfish… but the kid’s not great at opening up to people, especially in his current state. Things will only get worse for him if he’s made to move away to some foster home.
I’m doing the right thing here.
...Aren’t I?
*****
The Very Private Journal of a Future Ace Defense Attorney
January 10th, 2002
6:44PM
The last trial just ended.
...It was nothing like any of Father’s trials. It was horrible. I don’t even remember most of it… just little bits. Like when they called that lady up to the stand to do something called a “seance” and “bring my father back”...? I don’t know what it was, there’s nothing like that in any of Father’s books. But it was odd and weird and I hated it.
Mr. Yanni Yogi was acquitted due to insanity. His condition was due to something called… ‘oxygen deprivation’. The doctor said that had happened to me, too, but that I’m not insane, and because of that, I’m somehow lucky...
I’m not. I don’t… I don’t know what happened. I hardly remember a thing since stepping into that elevator.
Everything’s so… confusing. I hate it. I hate not knowing what happened. The only thing that should matter is the truth, but nobody in that courtroom seemed to even care! Why won’t they give me any answers?!
If Father were here… he’d never stop until he found the truth.
But… but he’s gone. And I don’t even know why he was murdered...
Uncle Ray’s been living in our house full-time since the day I woke up. Says he needs to watch over me in Father’s place.
At first I didn’t like it. He kept letting obnoxious strangers into the house, men and women in suits who spoke to me in annoying condescending tones about adoption and the deed to Father’s offices… and he kept making me to do things I didn’t want to, like physically dragging me out of bed to go to court and yelling at me when I didn’t eat all of my dinner.
But last night... I woke up from a horrible nightmare. I don’t remember it all that well… except that it was dark, pitch-black, and I was suffocating from the smell of blood… I heard two gunshots, and -
And then he was right there sitting beside my bed, singing the theme tune to Piece of Cake…
“Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo… sing it with me, Miles. Come on. You’re all right. We’re gonna be okay!”
That was what he said to me. He sounded so… sure of himself, with that gargantuan grin on his face. I don’t understand what he could be so happy about… but I couldn’t help it. I started singing too.
Then I let him pet my hair. ...I’ve never let anyone other than Father do that before.
I didn’t have anymore nightmares that night.
I think... I want to stay living with Uncle Ray. He can’t replace Father, but… he’s also going to be an attorney just like him someday.
In that way, I guess we’re the same.
*****
A Masterfully Sweet Notebook ~ Ray’s Case Notes Vol. #5
02/18/2002
Case: State vs Forswynd
I haven’t quite managed to get my badge just yet, so I’m still stuck doing paralegal work… My new boss is kind of a jackass, honestly… but I’m afraid to talk back to him in case he decides to dock my pay. He barely pays me enough to keep both me and Miles fed as it is...
God, I wish Mr. Edgeworth were still around. I know I’ve said that before so many times, like a fucking broken record, but… but he just always seemed to know how to keep his cool and work things out. Not at all like this Atlore guy, who spends most of his time doing such productive things as complaining about the lack of evidence and belittling me. He never has any actual insight into the case, it’s all just “What the hell are you eating your own case notes for, you imbecile!” and “Don’t go getting your filthy fingerprints all over the crime scene without my permission!”
But even he’s a ray of sunshine compared to the guy who’s prosecuting this case.
...Yeah. No points for guessing...
Manfred von Karma.
I guess I’ve been lucky this far to have avoided running into him since the last IS-7 trial... But sweet Jesus, he’s even worse than I remembered. And I realised today that he’s actually even more terrifying outside of the courtroom than in it.
So. What happened was this. During the recess, I went to check up on the defendant, Gail Forswynd (long story short: she’s a paragliding instructor who’s been accused of tampering with one of her student’s equipment, causing his untimely death), since Mr. Atlore wasn’t in the best of moods - which I guess was understandable in a way given how the trial was going. Anyway, as I was doing that, I noticed Miles had suddenly disappeared.
Speaking of, Miles has been better recently. Just last week he finally agreed to go back to school, and he no longer just shuts himself in his room all day. That’s not to say that he’s in any way “over” what happened, and I don’t think he ever will be. He still periodically wakes me up in the middle of the night, screaming, and even when he’s awake… I can just see it on his face. Like it’s cast in permanent shadow… He never was the best at smiling, but he barely does it at all now.
...I should probably look into getting him a therapist once I’ve finished duking it out with the powers that be over child custody and Mr. Edgeworth’s offices…
But I’m getting sidetracked. So, Miles had disappeared, and I just flew into an absolute panic. Dashing between the lobbies, frantically asking anybody who’d listen if they’d seen him. ...It’s embarrassing to think about now, but at the time, well... I really don’t want to think about what would happen if I actually lost Miles.
But guess where I found him, in the end? ...In the courthouse library. Talking to, of all people, Manfred von fucking Karma.
I managed to overhear just a bit of their conversation before they noticed me skulking around.
“...Y-you’re that prosecutor…” Miles’s realisation had been tinged with trepidation, but he had held his ground.
“Hmph. You ought to have some manners drilled into that vacant head of yours. I am Manfred von Karma, and you shall address me as such!” He’d then slammed that awful cane of his into the floor so hard it was the like vibrations of an earthquake. In that moment I was practically paralysed - so I can only imagine how Miles had felt.
“...Come to think. Haven’t I seen you somewhere before…?” The old man had continued to glare impassively at Miles, as though trying to dissect him with his eyes. “...Ah, yes. Aren’t you the whelp of that blasted defense attorney who trounced me?”
That was the point I finally grew a pair and decided to intervene.
“You take that back, Prosecutor von Karma. Gregory Edgeworth was a greater man than you’ll ever be.”
That was foolish, I know. And I probably looked ridiculous, a kid of barely twenty going up against the most feared prosecutor in America, in Europe, and quite possibly the world, with my knees knocking together like some sort of human windchime.
“...And you were that same fool’s assistant, were you not? Hmph… Such pitiful small fry.” His eyes raked over me, seemingly disinterested, before turning suddenly, very decisively, on Miles.
“...Regardless. You, boy. ...I saw the outcome of that trial. Rather pitiful, was it not?” His voice had changed - it sounded less harsh, though I’d never call it friendly in a million years. “Do you not seek justice for your father’s death? ...It was torn from you at the last moment, with that fool’s acquittal. Now your father’s killer will never receive the punishment he deserves.”
Miles was just staring at him. I kept opening and closing my mouth like a fish, unable to think anything other than ‘What the hell is he playing at…?’
“The path of a defense attorney leads only to moral corruption and personal ruin. Only the prosecutor’s path will grant you true justice…” He then slammed his cane again, with authority. “Do you not agree?”
Miles had slunk from von Karma. “I-I, um, w-well -”
“Hmph.” It was then I saw one of those utterly detestable smirks on von Karma’s face - it had been long enough that I’d forgotten just how repugnant they were. “So, it appears you understand at least somewhat.” He then jerked his head dismissively at me. “...This fool is hardly qualified to determine your path in life. He is but a bumbling ignoramus, lacking the ability to reason. He only has blind faith in his clients based on nothing more than foolish sentimentality.”
“That’s not -”
I’m ashamed to admit he was able to silence me with just a single glance. “Do you wish to become like this piteous imbecile, boy? Destitute and lacking even the barest qualifications… Is that what you want your life to amount to…?”
“Hold it!” I’d yelled it with enough force to surprise myself, let alone von Karma. “I’ll have you know, Prosecutor, that I am in fact Miles’s legal guardian.”
A lie, sure. But it’ll soon be true… Soon.
“Now, Prosecutor… if you’ll excuse me, I have a defendant I need to consult with.” I didn’t wait to hear whatever retort he was about to utter next. I grabbed Miles, and practically ran out of there.
Turns out the only reason he was in the library in the first place was because he’d desperately needed the toilet and had managed to get lost on his way back to the defendant lobby. I couldn’t get too mad at him, what with the fact that all the hallways in that damn courthouse look the same.
Still… he didn’t seem to want to talk about the whole affair. When I asked him if he was alright, he got this distant look in his eyes and just mumbled.
...Is it really possible… Could it be that snake von Karma actually managed to get through to him?
...Shit. I’m an idiot. ...If there’s one thing Miles loves as much as he loved his dad, it’s justice. von Karma really appealed to that quality of his back then, the fucking slimy… God. It took me this long to even realise it…
And in a way, he’s right. That trial was a disaster. Nobody won in the end except Hammond, and just based on my (thankfully) brief interactions with him, I wouldn’t trust him to order me the right goddamn pizza.
...And then there’s the fact that… well, von Karma has a lot of things I don’t have. Like money. And influence… And a stable, accomplished career...
No, no. What the hell are you on about, Ray? You’re worrying about nothing . Miles must’ve declared a hundred times by now that his life goal is to become a defense attorney and protect the innocent… why would a kid like him listen to some creep tell him that the “only path for justice is to become a prosecutor”?
Ridiculous. And besides… though I can barely afford instant ramen these days, I really, really doubt that von Karma has ever kissed his kid goodnight, or read him a bedtime story, or enjoyed a delicious home-baked key lime pie with him on a rainy afternoon.
Those are all things I’m really good at. And they’re all things Miles needs at a time like this…
Things only I can provide.
Though, to be honest with you, sometimes I feel… Sometimes I wish… that I didn’t have to be so responsible all the time.
It’s just… exhausting, y’know?
*****
An Aspiring Attorney’s Thoroughly Private Memoirs
December 18th, 2007
11:13PM
...It’s been almost six years now. But once December begins… it’s as though no time at all has passed.
Well. Except for the fact that Raymond’s got three inches of stubble now and is barely ever home. And if he is, he’s passed out on the sofa in the arms of some strangely-dressed woman he met God knows where.
He knows I hate having strangers in the house, so why does he think this is somehow acceptable?! It’s like I don’t even exist as far as he’s concerned.
...He used to be the only one who I’d be willing to actually tell about my nightmares (well, apart from that lousy overpriced therapist I had in middle school, but we don’t speak of her). But if I did that now, he’d probably just grunt something incoherent in my general direction… and that’s if he’s sober.
I know I should be beyond it by now, but it’s just… haunting me. The blood. The gunshots…
It was apparent to everyone in the classroom today that I’d had no sleep at all the previous night. I could tell from the way they stared.
Thankfully, the midterm exams this year were absolute hogwash. Even Phoenix seemed to think so.
...Speaking of Phoenix...
To tell you the truth, I wasn’t expecting to ever see him again after I transferred schools in the wake of the DL-6 incident. Raymond’s apartment was on the other side of town from my father’s, so a long-term set-up just wasn’t feasible.
But then, suddenly, on the first day of high school… he caught me leaving the library at lunchtime and hollered my name.
Initially, I was a little concerned that (God forbid) Larry had also managed to pass my school’s entrance exam, but it appears we’re both finally free of the Butz. Still, more importantly… this last semester has helped me realise how much I’ve missed Phoenix.
He’s a little more confident and outgoing than I remember him being, but just as spiky as ever. And in other ways, he hasn’t changed; he’s still reckless and full of ridiculous ideas, not to mention over-emotional… but also loyal and full of determination.
And sometimes I catch myself wondering what those spikes of his would feel like if I reached out and touched them. Odd, I know… I can’t hope to understand why these bizarre thoughts keep entering my head. It’s… honestly kind of frightening.
In any case, Phoenix has been acting a little… off recently. I’m afraid to ask him why - what if it’s something I’ve said or done?
I can’t think of what could’ve possibly been misconstrued, but I feel like he’s been making excuses to avoid me lately. For instance, I’ll ask him if he wants to come to the cinema with me to see the Signal Samurai movie, and then he’ll get all flustered and say he can’t make the date. ...Is something bothering him, perhaps…?
I should probably ask him tomorrow...
...Oh, wonderful. I just heard the lock click open, and it looks like Raymond’s finally back.
He’s got a companion. Giggly. Female. Typical… I do hope she’s gone by the morning. The last thing I need is some stranger dressed in what essentially amounts to a bikini attempting to make banal conversation with me.
...This has really got to stop soon. I can’t tolerate this much longer.
By the year’s end… if Raymond doesn’t try to turn over a new leaf and actually listens to me for once, then… then I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.
*****
The Hug Life Journal ~ Ray’s Case Notes Vol. #17
12/26/2007
Case Name: N/A
...Man, this year’s been an absolute shitshow, and that’s putting it mildly . I lost all but two of my cases… though whether that was because they were truly guilty or because I was just too mentally exhausted to give it my all… I couldn’t tell you.
And I’d also be lying if I told you I hadn’t, not once, ever resented my decision to become an attorney. Honestly, defending… it’s not the kind of thing you really wanna get involved in when you’re already up to your neck in Social Services’ bullshit.
Me and Miles enjoyed a full year of peace before they came back to bother us, and as of the last five months they’ve been doing it on the regular. I’m no longer shocked when some officious turd turns up after sundown like some shady debt collector to talk at me for an hour about why I’m a bad parent.
Look, I know about the whole alcohol problem, okay?! And I’m taking measures against it… I’m not an addict. I just… when I get home each day after the latest round of the world using me as its punching bag ends, I need something to take the pain away, y’know?
...And to forget the fact that I probably feel this way because I still haven’t really adjusted to Greg not being around no more. To forget that I was never really able to stand on my own as an attorney.
...God. When we went to check on his grave today, it was all overgrown with weeds, and some absolute pisstart had gone and tossed the remains of his midnight meal right in it. I’ve half a mind to track the fucker down, but I know it’ll amount to nothing seeing as I’ve barely got the time of day to deal with anything else when I’ve got fucking Satan knocking on my door each and every Thursday evening.
You know. I really… I really hate to admit this but… I’ve started to almost regret taking Miles in.
If I didn’t have to look after Miles, they wouldn’t be breathing down my neck all the time. I’d have far more disposable income and a heck of a lot less stress. I wouldn’t have to be constantly trying to placate an irritable teenager, even if sometimes he has a point when he complains…
Tch. He used to be so cute… he’d call me ‘Uncle Ray’, he always wanted a hug, and… well. I guess I was also a different person back then, now that I think about it… it was before I started chasing after the alcohol and mindlessly flirting with every vaguely friendly girl I ran into…
I know what I’m doing is irresponsible. I know. I don’t need to be told that! I just need… a break from all this. Just for a little bit.
But I know I’ll never get one, not with things as they are now.
*****
The frost bit through the final hour of the year as the boy wrestled with the squat apartment’s small front door. He let loose a series of characteristic groans, before the rusted lock finally yielded. He tested it once, twice, three times - tentatively, so as not to wake up the house’s now sole inhabitant.
He hefted a bulging backpack over his shoulders - even his body, used to the familiar daily weight of his heavy schoolbag, teetered just a little before righting himself.
Fireworks detonated in the ashen sky above as he made his way down to the street level and across the road. He shook himself, trying to push down the hazy impressions of gunshots that echoed through his memory.
This is the only way, he assured himself as he approached the station through a maze of alleyways and narrow roads.
He arrived in ample time for the last train, and so set his bag down on the platform, watching his heavy breaths curl through the air above the rails.
11 minutes, the digital signboard informed him.
11 minutes, and then I’ll be on my way, leaving this place for good.
He’d be lying to himself if there was nothing he’d miss. The cherry tree beside the pond in the local park where he often sat reading. The library near his school, with its kindly proprietor. And the school itself…
...Phoenix. A single thought, a single name, made him hesitate.
...No. There’s no reason to involve him in this… He hasn’t talked to me in ages. Speaking to him now would be… terrifying. He has his own life, his own issues, and he probably doesn’t want me anywhere near them...
...is what he thought, although, in a small part of his mind he daren’t think too hard about, he thoroughly regretted not ever having the courage to ask after his friend’s problem.
He glanced again at the signboard.
9 minutes.
The passage of time was glacial. Each second was stretched as far as it would go, threatening to snap from the tension.
The boy fidgeted with his thick scarf. Absent-mindedly, he brought a paper scrap from his coat pocket up to his mouth and began nibbling at its edges. He stopped as soon as he realised what he was doing.
Ugh… How did I let that stupid habit of his rub off on me…?
Still. No matter.
I’m never going to see him again…
Another glance at the signboard. 2 minutes.
If he strained his hearing, he could just about make out the faintest rattling of steel on steel, the echoing premonitions of the year’s final eastbound train.
He hefted his backpack over his shoulders and stepped up to the platform edge.
A sudden shiver passed through him, too strong for it to simply be due to the cold. He ignored it, and continued listening as the distant sounds undulated closer and closer.
A sudden screech, and the train itself was visible, manoeuvring its bulk awkwardly around a tight corner with several noisy, pained judders.
It steadily filled the platform. One carriage passed the boy by dismissively, then another, and another. Eventually, a pair of doors split open creakily in front of him.
The interior was empty but for a single man passed out against the baggage rack.
The boy firmly planted his foot on the step and made to haul his luggage-laden self onto the train.
“Miles! Wait!”
The boy turned his head.
*****
“Miles, what the hell are you thinking?”
“...Raymond. How -”
“Who in the ever-loving fuck cares! Miles, what, what are you…”
“...Hmph. Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to take this train out of LA -”
“And then what?!”
“I’ve been saving up. I can afford a cheap hotel for a week. During that time, I’ll enroll in a local boarding school. I can do it. I’ve checked ahead of time, and I’ve got all the necessary documentation -”
“Miles, Miles, Miles. Just… listen to yourself for a second there. ...Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you’d survive on your own for very -”
“Why not!? Is it because I’m still just some lost, snivelling brat to you?! It won’t be that long until I’m sixteen, you know… And besides! I’m far more likely to catch my death if I stay around you!”
“...Miles…”
“I’m leaving. This is goodbye, Raymond.”
“...Miles, wait -”
“Don’t try to stop me.”
“Miles, I… I’m sorry.
“I understand why you’re doing this. I know I really haven’t been the best uncle a kid could ask for...
“I know… I know you deserve better.
“But, please…
“Give me one last chance to make things right.”
*****
He felt a hand grasp his wrist, loosely, in a grip he could’ve easily shrugged off.
But, for some reason, he didn’t.
Perhaps it was the look Raymond was giving him; the sincere guilt, the pain, the betrayal in his sunken brown eyes.
Perhaps that was what made him feel so weak at the knees, suddenly unable to support his full body weight.
Gradually, tentatively, his foot inched off the train and fell heavily back onto the platform.
The doors shuddered back into position behind him, closing definitively. The train gave one final wobble as its engines geared up into full swing, and then began to move.
Miles wordlessly watched it clatter off into the night.
It was only once its backlights had been fully swallowed by the tunnel beyond that Miles dropped his backpack and collapsed into the body of the man before him, hugging him tightly and sobbing into his shoulder.
“Goddamn it…”
Somewhere in the close distance, church bells echoed freely in the still air. Heralding the new year.
“...Goddamn it.”
*****
A Hug A Day… Diary & Notebook ~ Ray’s Case Notes Vol. #30
02/24/2015
Case Name: State vs Master (Retrial)
...Man. I just caught sight of myself in the mirror today and thought, “Shit. Did I always have this many wrinkles…?”
...Whatever. Girls are still charmed by me, so I must be ageing pretty well in spite of that. And it happens to the best of us.
Just saw Jeffery Master again today, for the first time in fourteen years. You can see in his eyes how prison life has worn him down, but he’s the sort of guy who knows how to make the best out of a bad situation. And Kate’s been helping him out in any way she can all this time, so at least he didn’t suffer alone.
Still, when this is all said and done, he’ll be finally cleared of all charges. And it’s about time too.
God. Fuck knows what I’ve been through to get to this point. It was only last year that the big old bastard VK got his dues. Me and another lawyer, this real up-and-comer Mia Fey… long story short, we struck a deal, and part of that involved teaming up to expose von Karma’s rottenness to the world.
And we succeeded. He’s behind bars now, and he won’t be getting out of there anytime soon.
It was a long battle. But God, it was worth it just to see the priceless look on von Karma’s face… beautiful , it was. I honestly doubt the old fuck was ever expecting to see me again after the final Yogi trial.
And of course, since there was evidence of corruption on von Karma’s part in the original Master trial as well, the old man gets a second shot at freedom.
You can bet I’m going to win this time. Not just for Master and Kate, but also for Gregory.
I’ll finally be able to finish the job he started.
...That being said…
I’m still not really sure I can say I’m ‘happy’ right now.
...Heh. I know I should be, but it’s just… I feel like there’s something missing. I guess I should be used to it by now, but... this house… still feels so goddamn empty without him.
I mean… there had to be a reason why he’d decide to go to university in Europe, of all places.
I… I didn’t want to mention it at the time, considering how distant we ended up becoming as he grew up… I mean, he never tried to run away a second time, but I could feel the gap between us widening even after we made up.
...He’s called home twice in four years. Twice. That’s all the evidence you really need, ain’t it?
I just know it. He still can’t find it in himself to forgive me. And so, he’s trying to avoid me any way he can. He doesn’t want to associate with me.
...I’d like to say that I did my best with him, but I’m not really sure that’s true. After all, I…
...Oh? Huh. Hold that thought - doorbell’s a-ringing.
Wonder who it could be this late in the evening…
*****
A glance through the peephole didn’t glean him much. Whoever had called on him was fairly tall, dressed in a crisp white button-down with maroon suspenders. He blinked - something seemed familiar about that style, though he couldn’t be absolutely certain…
Well. They don’t seem like they’re here to stab and/or rob me, anyway.
The door opened with a creak (he was forever forgetting to oil those hinges) and left him staring blankly at the visitor standing in the porch beyond.
The boy had matured, his baby face having been trimmed back into sharp features. His grey eyes still had that same distance, but it was muted - simultaneously, a hope and confidence shone there the likes of which Ray couldn’t recall seeing before.
He carried a carefully wrapped rectangular package and a bouquet of bluebells under one arm.
He reached up self-consciously to adjust his silk bowtie, and that was when something small and unmistakable nestled in the folds of his lapel caught the light of the streetlamp.
An attorney’s badge.
*****
“M-Miles…”
“...Raymond. It’s been a while. I… I trust this isn’t a bad time?”
“A-ah, no, nope, not at all. Come in, come in… I might just have a couple of teabags of that stuff you like…”
“It was a long plane journey, and the in-flight beverages were subpar, to say the least. I’ll take what I can get at this point.”
“Ha ha ha. Fair enough.”
“...I’m sorry I haven’t… haven’t been in touch.”
“That’s… that’s alright.”
“...”
“So, uh, anyway. I guess you’ve graduated now, huh…? And I see you’ve even managed to pass the bar at your age! Well done, Miles. Seriously.”
“...Ah, yes. I took the bar exam only a couple of months ago… I’ll be looking into employment options as soon as I finish my studies.”
“Ah right. Well. I mean… there is someone I know who could use an extra hand to help out around her law offices. I could get you in touch with her.”
“Really…? I’d be most grateful.”
“Ah, geez, come on, Miles. There’s no need to be so formal with me! I’m your Uncle Ray! ...Or did all that time in Europe give you a stiff upper lip?”
“...Tch. Your jokes are as half-hearted as always, Raymond.”
“Right back atcha. You haven’t changed a lick, neither.”
“...Raymond.”
“Y-yeah?”
“...Stop pretending. You of all people should know how much I hate it when people lie.”
“Wh-what are you talking about, Miles…?”
“You’re not actually glad to see me, are you? You resent me. You’re putting on airs, and to be quite frank, it disgusts me -”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s all this, all of a sudden? Miles, you can’t be serious -”
“I’m always serious -”
“Yes, of course, but… in what universe would I not be glad to see you? Miles, do you have any idea how much it fucking hurts to hear you say something like that?”
“...”
“I mean, yes, we’ve grown a bit apart over the years, but… I was mostly responsible for how things turned out, so… so why would I resent you? All I’ve ever really wanted was for you to be happy, and safe, and to grow up to be the person you want to be. I know I wasn’t always great at the whole parenting thing, but… but you know…
“O-oh, ah. The kettle’s just finished boiling…”
“...”
“A-anyway, as I was saying… if you’re trying to shoulder all the blame yourself for this, Miles… please don’t.”
“...I knew coming back here was a bad idea -”
“Please. Please stay at least until you finish your tea. I don’t even drink the stuff, and it was expensive, so…”
“...Very well.”
“...Alright. I mean, I know coming back here must’ve been hard, but honestly? That alone’s enough for me. I mean, I’d really, really love it if we could be a proper family again, even if it’s just for one night, and cuddle in front of the TV, just like old times…
“See, Miles, I’m not like you. I’m a simple guy who takes pleasure in simple things. Cakes, company, comfort… I’ve been a practicing lawyer for more than a decade now, and my office is still the same dump it always has been. I’m not particularly famous or celebrated. ...You, though, on the other hand…”
“I’m just like my father…?”
“Hahaha. Well -”
“I’ll admit one thing. Part of the reason why I went abroad… why I severed most of my contact with you… was because I didn’t want to continue living in the shadow my father left behind. I suppose I wanted… to find my own way.”
“...Huh. Well, what I was going to say was… while you do look and sometimes act like your old man, you’re your own person, undoubtedly. I can see that.”
“...Hmph.”
“Well, I guess you don’t have to take my word for it.”
“...Another thing you should know… I wasn’t the one who decided to come back here. A… friend… talked me into it. So it’s him you should thank for my being here today.”
“Is that right… Still, it makes no difference in the end. You still came back of your own volition. And also… it’s good to see you managed to make some friends. Greg was always worried about that, y’know. And you didn’t have many friends through elementary and middle school, and even in high school…”
“...Mmm.”
“You should introduce me sometime! ...If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”
“Er… Uhm. I-I’ll think about it.”
“Okay!”
“I-in the meantime… I meant to give you these. I made them myself as a sort of… of peace offering, I suppose you could say. They’re not very good, but -”
“...Oh. Ohhhh… Holy shit. Miles -”
“I-it really wasn’t that much of a big deal…”
“Chocolate meringues! Just like the kind I… Jeffery Master… used to make! Hell, I’m gonna need to show him this! O-oh yeah! Did I tell you he got a retrial, and I’m defending him? Jeez, he’s gonna be so chuffed!”
“W-well. They’re yours to do with as you wish.”
“You should come down with me tomorrow Miles, and meet him. He remembers your old man well - I bet he’d love to see you. And we can eat these together…”
“I-I’m afraid I am otherwise engaged tomorrow…”
“...’Engaged’...? Oh. Ohhh… Ahahaha… Of course! How did I not notice sooner? That bouquet… I know I shouldn’t, but I know I can’t help but ask... Who’s the lucky girl - ?”
“Shut up!”
“Ahh… you’re blushing! Careful there Miles, or you might just explode -”
“I said, stop talking!”
“...”
“ Thank you. Now, if I may…”
“Ah, w-wait! S-sorry. I guess I got a bit overeager… it’s my inner hopeless romantic, y’know? Still, I understand, and I wish you the best with her.”
“...You don’t understand a thing , Raymond.”
“Oh, Miles, please. I understand girl trouble better than I understand court procedure! Trust me.”
“...For once, I actually hope that is a joke… for both your sake and that of your clients.”
“Still, it’s just… I was wondering if it would ever happen with you, y’know? You never seemed to show much interest in anything that was even the slightest bit romantic. But I guess you’re just a late bloomer, huh…”
“...Raymond. I… I have to tell you something.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. …Wh-what is it?”
*****
Raymond felt the sweat beading against his skin, trickling in frigid rivulets down his spine.
From the moment Miles spoke, Raymond had been suddenly struck with overwhelming concern for the boy before him.
Miles himself seemed as agitated as Raymond had ever seen him. He clutched his arm around his middle with visible force. His head turned away and his eyes darted, settling on everything and anything in the room aside from Raymond.
What could possibly be bothering him?
I feel like I’m missing something. Something important…
...Wait, no. Hold on. Could it… could it be…
Miles spoke, his voice utterly strained.
*****
“I never imagined I’d tell you this, but… I’m gay.”
“...Ah.”
“...It’s alright. You don’t have to hide your disgust or pretend to understand me. I came here fully prepared for the eventuality that this may be the last time we see each other -”
“What…?! What?! Miles, would you stop putting words in my mouth for one goddamn second?!”
“...”
“...Just for clarification’s sake, I really don’t care about the gender of the person you end up with. As I said before… what matters is that you’re happy. And well, you know…
“Me being disgusted at something like that… would be just a tiny bit hypocritical of me…”
“...Is that right…?”
“Y-yeah. Although it was a pretty long time ago now, haha. ...Not that it really matters, considering I pass as straight in virtually every situation. Even still, I shouldn’t have assumed so much. I’m… I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable like that.”
“...That’s… alright. It’s done now...”
“So, your boyfriend likes bluebells, then, I take it?”
“...Erm… Well...”
“...Eh? Those are bluebells, aren’t they…?”
“They are. But, erm, that’s… that’s not the issue…”
“He has a pollen allergy…? No, wait… they’re fake flowers, and you don’t want him to find out…?”
“Raymond. Stop now with your asinine guesswork, please, before you embarrass yourself any further.
“...Y-you see. He isn’t… he isn’t exactly my boyfriend … yet.”
“Ahhh… So that’s how it is…”
“I, er... I-I read something about subtle communication and symbolism once, and - ”
“Pfft… Hahahaha! S-sorry, Miles, but… God, you really haven’t changed, have you…?”
“Gnngh…”
“So, I’m guessing that you also haven’t seen this guy in a while, if he lives here in LA. I mean, don’t let me stop you, but… do you think that just after meeting again for the first time is really the best time to spring a sudden confession on him?”
“W-well… you see. It’s not exactly like that… I’ve been in regular contact with him for about a year now, and… b-besides… I feel like if I’m unable to talk to him now, then I may never be able to…”
“Hm. Fair is fair… Did you meet this guy online then…? Not that I’m against that, it’s just…”
“N-no. We met in elementary school…”
“Wh - Huh?! Are you shitting me, Miles?!”
“O-of course not!”
“Actually… come to think. We moved not long before you graduated elementary, and you ended up going to a different school… is that why you haven’t seen him since?”
“N-no. We met again in high school. But… I’m not even fully certain what happened… He started drifting away, pursuing different interests… being around him became awkward. I heard much later that an incredibly pushy girlfriend may have been at the heart of all the strange behaviour. But it seems he still doesn’t particularly want to talk about it, so I’m rather hazy on the details…”
“...I see.”
“We only got back in touch because of a complete coincidence - he just happened to enroll in a summer school at my university. Can’t exactly blame him, as the fine arts department there is second only to the law school. But… he’s the entire reason I’m here, talking to you, right now. In fact, it was his idea for me to come back to America in the first place.
“I suppose you could say… he gave me the courage I needed to face my past.”
“...You two seem really close.”
“...Do we really…?”
“Do you really need to ask? Hey, come on. Do you really think that him just turning up at your university, out of all the goddamn places in the world, was a coincidence?”
“Y-you… you’re not implying…!”
“Heh-heh. Honestly, Miles, I reckon you’ve got this in the bag.
“Just make sure to say hi to him from me. What’s his name, by the way? What’s he like? I wanna know all about this man who stole the iron-barricaded heart of Miles Edgeworth!”
“...Tch… You really never bothered to learn the meaning of the word ‘privacy’, did you…?”
*****
Some time later, Miles found himself standing alone in a small moonlit kitchen, idly rotating a thin glass of water in his hands.
Raymond had managed to convince him to stay the night after their minutes of talking began to pile up into hours. Miles had promptly texted Phoenix to tell him that he would be arriving the next day. Phoenix had given his typical answer, which consisted of an ‘Okay, no problemo!!’ followed by a string of emojis.
In the end, it seemed Phoenix had been right after all… as usual. Miles both simultaneously detested and, privately, adored that aspect of him.
That being said, although his reunion with Raymond had gone far better than he had ever dared to hope, he still found himself restless and unable to do anything but pace the tiny apartment in a half-hearted attempt to exert himself into exhaustion.
The place was undeniably messy, but still far cleaner than he remembered. There were no longer any flies hovering over the overflowing kitchen sink, no dubious leaks pooling beneath the boiler. The cracks in the walls had been painted over, covered with new photo frames and various knick-knacks.
He could hear Raymond snoring in the next room.
God, he really has become an old man…
Miles leant his cheek against the fridge, grateful for the chill. It cooled his anxiety, if only momentarily. He sighed, trying not to think about all the things Phoenix could possibly say at their rendezvous tomorrow.
A light draught rippled through the room, setting a note tacked onto the fridge fluttering in its wake. Miles peered at it, squinting into the darkness. He could just make out Raymond’s tight scrawl.
What’s this…?
Contrary to expectations, it was not a to-do list nor a reminder. Instead, it appeared to be…
...A poem…?
Unable to sate his growing curiosity, Miles switched on one of the small kitchen lights and held the note up towards its soft glow.
He read it through over and over, breathing in each word as though it were fluid.
At some indeterminable point, his tears started falling.
He didn’t wipe them away.
*****
‘It’s a distance that can’t be measured
Through the illusion of air in a vacuum
I see you up there, proud and just a little haughty
But do you see me? Can you see me?
‘I think I may have been the one
To push you into such a lonely atmosphere
But I forget there’s nothing but a void between us
You can’t hear me, you can’t hear me
‘Perhaps one day you’ll understand
The necessity of the changing seasons
The rise and the fall, our planet’s cyclic destiny
But when will you know? When will you know?
‘Throughout the endless wintertime, I looked to your light
Cold and dim as it was, it thawed my hopes
But you never stayed here long enough
How long will I wait? How long can I wait?
‘But I’m sure spring will arrive someday
With a burst of greenery and sunflower petals
I’ll be right here to greet you when you return
And this is what I’m going to tell you:
‘I love you, Winter Sun.’
-END-