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Dress shoes squeaked against the unfathomably clean marble floor as a black-haired man nervously treaded up to the reception desk of the office. His eyes darted over the impressively polished mahogany of the desk as the receptionist– a rather stern-looking woman raised her brow at him.
Phoenix let out a sheepish chuckle as he gripped the thick leather file of documents and the paper bag of takeout in either hand somewhat tighter.
Of course, he was no stranger to the Prosecutor's Building having had needed to carry out a murder investigation here a couple of months back alongside the various trips he would take to drop off documents and the like, nevertheless, for some odd reason, Phoenix found his chest go cold in apprehension every single time he stepped onto the building’s stainless floors. Perhaps it was the imposing loftiness of the building or the mere fact that it was filled with the best prosecutors of the district, ready to be released, all of them aiming for his throat at any given moment.
He gulped impulsively, shaking aside the thought as he returned to what he was originally here to do.
“Um.. hi, there.” Phoenix started awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his occupied hands as the receptionist glared at him in mild annoyance. Her dark red lips barely went with the rest of her makeup, and even Phoenix, who was so blissfully lacking in any form of aesthetic sense and much less about makeup, could tell right away. “Is Edg- Mr. Edgeworth in?”
“Do you have an appointment?” Her voice was surprisingly polite, considering the mean glint in her dark eyes.
“Appointment- uh.. not really but–” Phoenix’s voice cut short as the receptionist straightened, looking away as if he had nothing of any importance left to say. “Hey, wait. I'm a friend a-and well, I have these documents to drop off and Detective Dick Gumshoe wanted me to drop this off as well…” He trailed off, lifting his hands to show her the folder and bag.
“Sorry, rules are rules– wait, Detective Gumshoe?” He had her attention now. A small smirk formed on his face as he continued.
“Yeah, ol’ Gumshoe and I go way back.” He bluffed openly. Being a lawyer did have its benefits; it meant Phoenix was getting better and better at lying through his teeth which was not necessarily a good thing but it had helped pull him out of disastrous situations more times than he would have liked to admit. “He actually wanted me to hand these over to Mr. Edgeworth which is why I'm here so uh.. is he here right now?”
The receptionist hesitated. Her skepticism was clear in the slight quirk of her brow but she opened her mouth to speak. “Well.. Mr. Edgeworth isn't here at the moment.”
“Oh…” Dumbfounded, Phoenix looked around stupidly. Now what was he supposed to do?
Gumshoe had been pretty adamant about delivering the documents as well as the food to Edgeworth. Phoenix had noticed how the detective’s shoulders were slumped and how the area underneath his eyes had grown darker than ever. He was rather confounded when the man had not barked some gibberish and crushed Phoenix's shoulders in that inhumanely strong grip underneath his thick, calloused fingers, shaking him like a maraca as he persuaded him to do something for Edgeworth. Frankly, the whole ordeal with how dejected he sounded, voicing his concerns to Phoenix outside the police precinct, had gotten the spiky-haired man worried too.
According to the detective, Edgeworth was due to fly to some exotic country by the name of Bergenia– Brenia– whatever it was– for a high profile case. The silver-headed man had the last few days to prepare for the case before his flight tomorrow night yet the prosecutor's office had not bothered to provide him with the required documents which had left him with no choice but to do everything himself. The previous days had been nothing but Edgeworth running around from office to office, along with Gumshoe practically begging his associates to get him what Edgeworth required. The detective's devotion to the man was quite interesting. He had noticed how weary Edgeworth was getting, and according to the detective, he had not slept a wink in the last two days. He was not even sure if the prosecutor had found the time to eat something which is why he was so troubled.
Gumshoe had ran his mouth endlessly, explaining everything that had happened to Phoenix, inching closer and closer to tears. Phoenix had awkwardly patted his shoulder, assuring him Edgeworth would be fine, despite his own growing concern for the man, as he desperately did not want the detective bawling his eyes out in his presence.
The detective had pushed the documents and the bag of takeout from some random restaurant nearby into Phoenix’s hands hastily, who had found himself wondering where he got the money to pay for this food; the poor man could scarcely buy himself a pack of instant noodles so how did he manage this? Nevertheless, this was how Phoenix had found himself heading to Edgeworth’s office after quite a long time, a certain dread settled deep in his stomach.
Truthfully, when Gumshoe had confided in Phoenix, implying that he was the only one he could trust getting the items– specifically, the food– over to Edgeworth, Phoenix had felt a warmth inside.
“Mr. Edgeworth would kill me if it was someone other than you.”
These were the words uttered by the detective and the spiky-haired attorney had felt his chest flutter, if only for a moment. He found himself wondering what it was about him that made the prosecutor want to spare Gumshoe’s life if he managed to let his condition slip. Still, as Phoenix had made his way to the Prosecutor's Building, he couldn't help but let his mind run with this newfound concern. Was Edgeworth doing alright? What kind of a question was that? Of course he would be alright. It wasn't as if he was an infant unable to care for himself, no, he was the furthest from that. Despite presuming that Gumshoe was most probably exaggerating and Edgeworth was indeed perfectly okay, Phoenix couldn't shake the prosecutor out of his mind. If Phoenix were in his place, would he be thinking the same way?
The receptionist’s voice snapped him back to reality, “If Mr. Gumshoe did really send you, it must be importan… I suppose I could let you know where Mr. Edgeworth is staying.”
“What?”
“Let me see here…” Quick fingers tapped away on the computer terminal in front of the woman, Phoenix left wondering how one could type so fast. He barely knew how the damn computer things even worked, much less how to operate them at such speeds. “Ah, here. Let me write it down for you.”
Phoenix still hadn't comprehended what had happened when the receptionist was handing him a business card with the address of an apartment scribbled at its back in black ink. Where Edgeworth was staying?
The idea of Edgeworth living in someplace other than the office or the courthouse was certainly bizarre the more Phoenix thought about it. He almost could not imagine Edgeworth in casual clothing– perhaps a t-shirt and some jeans– completely separated from those ruffles and that deep maroon, or maybe even Edgeworth just sitting back on the couch. In his imagination, Edgeworth could be reading a book or reach out for the television remote, switching the television on, flipping between channels–
Phoenix felt the tips of his ears heat up. Why was he delving so deep into the matter? And why were his ears so hot, certainly he wasn't imagining something that deserved being embarrassed about. Not that he had ever thought of such a thing.
“Uhm.. thank you, miss.” Phoenix spoke up, trying to silence his thoughts as he read the address over and over.
He was honestly quite surprised the receptionist was willing to give him this information so easily. The security in the Prosecutor's Building was quite questionable. What if he were some criminal who was furious an accomplice was convicted by one of the prosecutors? What if he had wanted revenge on a prosecutor who had managed to ruin his life? He would probably tell Edgeworth about this.
Speaking of the man, he had to find him.
Turning on his heel with a humiliatingly loud squeak, Phoenix left the building, walking across the asphalt over to the place where he had parked his bicycle. The man placed the items in the basket in the front making sure they were secure before undoing the bicycle’s lock and mounting it. He pulled the card out of his pocket, his eyes going over the address a couple more times. Stupidly enough, Phoenix found he had unconsciously memorized the address. Heart hammering with apprehension, Phoenix pocketed the piece of paper, smoothing over his gelled hair with a hand before he took off for Edgeworth’s apartment.
-
As he halted in front of the apartment building, Phoenix took a second to study the view before him. The structure was six floors tall, and on the more costly side as apparent due to the rather well-maintained hedges and shrubbery decorating the exterior. The building itself was a pleasing light gray with red bricks as highlights, its windows wide and square overlooking the street, and most of the insides of the rooms invisible due to drawn curtains. The address stated Edgeworth lived on the second floor, likely a temporary residence. Phoenix found himself wondering where Edgeworth really lived. Did he have his own home somewhere else? Was he now the owner of his childhood home after his father had passed and had he kept it? The more Phoenix pondered the man, the more he realized he knew nothing about him. The thought deflated his heart a little. It had been a little over two years since they had entered each others’ lives again. Did Edgeworth even want to befriend Phoenix again after all these years, even after he had helped him so much? Phoenix found himself wondering what the two of them even were. With the way they had sided with one another during all those odd cases, one would certainly consider them friends. And yet, friends kept in contact. Edgeworth had made no advances, never reached out to Phoenix for anything. If they happened to see each other coincidentally or due to some case, it wasn't like Edgeworth was unfriendly, it was actually quite the opposite. However, if there was no work-related matter between the two of the men, there was simply no reason to communicate anymore.
The whole ordeal had frustrated Phoenix, but he wasn't going to let some complicated relationship get in the way of his life. If Edgeworth didn't want to associate with him, so be it. Phoenix had his own problems to worry about, such as how to earn his next paycheck and whether or not Maya had gotten herself arrested again. Still, an ever-existent part of him would always nag at him. A small piece of his heart was forever stained with the silver-headed prosecutor, despite how badly he wanted to cut out that part with his own bare hands, and throw it away someplace he would never find it again, despite the searing pain it would bring him to do such a thing.
He blinked himself back to his objective, realising he had unconsciously already parked and dismounted his bicycle already, his hands halted on the chain lock. Phoenix let out a sigh that came out shakier than he expected, and secured the lock on his bicycle, before retrieving the documents and the bag of food.
The man tried not to think too much, a daunting task, as he climbed up the stairs of the apartment building. Like he had expected, the interior was quite clean, minimalist and office-like, with certain potted plants Phoenix couldn't recognize for the life of him adorning the corners. He absentmindedly wondered how much it would cost to stay here, waving it off as he remembered how wealthy Edgeworth was. Of course he was, the strikingly red sports car of his was a testament to that. If he was just as rich, Phoenix would have wanted a car just like that. Perhaps not as red or loud, maybe a deep, navy blue.
He didn't even realize how hard his heart pounded against his chest as he raised a fist to knock at Edgeworth’s door. It felt like the pure dread he felt mere moments before a trial was due to start. The nervousness of his client amplifying his own as he desperately tried not to let his weakness known to them, for both of their sakes. Knocking at Edgeworth’s door was nothing like those life-alteringntrials so why did he feel this way?
Mustering up any strength he could, he let his knuckles tap against the door, a nice and even three times. His heart only seemed to echo louder as he felt the shuffling of footsteps grow closer to the door, an unmistakable voice beginning to speak as the door opened.
“Detective, I trust the documents are–” The mask of unconcern Edgeworth always wore so proudly cracked as he found Phoenix outside his room, the man probably donning an equally stupid expression. “Wright, why– how are you here?”
Edgeworth was quick to recover though, the permanent furrow in his eyebrow soon returning as he eyed Phoenix with an unreadable look in his gray eyes.
Gumshoe had been right. Phoenix had never imagined the oh-so prim and proper Edgeworth could even look like this. His gray bangs, previously sleek and smooth were all crunched up like he had been lying face first on a pillow for hours. His eyes had seemingly sunk further into his skull, the under area dark as if he were some raccoon-eyed punk. Worst of all, he looked exhausted, and Phoenix found all his hatred of the man slipping away, replaced instead with worry.
“Uh- uhm..” Phoenix couldn't meet his gaze, holding up the items in his hands instead. “Detective Gumshoe told me to bring these over to you.” He handed him the folder containing his documents, Edgeworth still a little confused flipping through the pages with a weary frown.
“Oh, and..” Phoenix finally found the courage to look at him, ignoring the way his heart echoed in his head. “Gumshoe tells me you haven't eaten, or slept for that matter,” He handed him the bag of takeout, Edgeworth’s facade faltering yet again. “He bought you this himself so it wouldn't be nice if it went to waste.”
“Wright…” He finally spoke.
“I mean it. Get some rest, Edgeworth.” Phoenix spoke, his voice soft as if someone would overhear their conversation. “Whatever you're up to can't be more important than your own health.”
“...” Edgeworth looked away, his hand reaching to clutch at his elbow, a familiar gesture. Phoenix couldn't see his face, it was obscured by his unruly bangs. “How did you find me?” His voice was stern, an unwanted pang of emotion struck Phoenix’s chest.
“I..” Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. He suddenly realized how awkward the situation was; he was just standing outside his door with no idea what he was doing. “Well, the prosecutor's office kind of just told me when I mentioned Detective Gumshoe so uh.. not sure what that tells you about the security.”
Edgeworth clenched his fist, muttering. “The incompetence… unbelievable.” He turned to look at Phoenix in the eye. Whatever feeling he was trying to conceal had long faded and the recognizable, cold glare was back.
“Wright,” The way he said his name sent a shiver down his spine. “I appreciate your concern but this has nothing to do with you. The detective had no reason to let you, a civilian, know anything about me or what I'm involved in so I will talk to him. You have my gratitude for going out of your way to bring me the documents. Good day, and please don't come back here again.”
The door closed in front of him before he could open his mouth to speak, leaving him feeling crushed. Phoenix stared at the number plate of the door for a few seconds, trying to comprehend the sudden rush of ache he felt. That was it? That was all Edgeworth had to say to him?
He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing before he turned, walking away. The way Edgeworth had spoken to him, like he was simply some irritating subordinate in the way of his work, the harsh glare he had given him, had left him feeling an indescribable hurt. Phoenix wondered if he was overreacting as he mounted his bike, had he imagined Edgeworth being colder than he actually had been. Besides, he had thanked him in that fancy language of his, and what was all of that with how he refused to let Phoenix look at his face? But then why had he said nothing else. He told him to never come back here again. What did that mean?
Phoenix felt his throat constrict as the cold breeze whipped his face, his legs unconsciously pedalling him and his bicycle in the direction of his own office. Why did Edgeworth have to be so unnaturally cold? He found himself wondering desperately why he was the way he was. He wanted to know everything there was to him. He wanted to understand him. Most of all, he wanted to be there to help him. What was it about Edgeworth that made him so reluctant to express what he was truly feeling?
His chest only tightened as he forced his burning legs to power through the road uphill, thoughts occupied with that dumb prosecutor the entire time.
-
“Oh, hi, Nick,” A bubbly voice that almost immediately spread a comfortable warmth deep within Phoenix greeted him. Maya let him into the office previously belonging to her sister, the spiky-haired attorney collapsing onto the worn leather couch in a somewhat exaggerated manner.
Perhaps he had wanted someone to ask him how he was doing, or what was on his mind as he visibly sighed, putting his face into his hands. Sure, he was being a little attention-greedy but there was no harm in that.
“Something wrong?” To his satisfaction, the previously joyous tone was replaced with something still cheery, but with a more serious edge to it. “Hey, what happened, Nick?”
Maya moved, her sleek black bangs bobbing on her forehead, the artifacts and accessories on her person Phoenix still knew next to nothing of clacking against each other as she sat down next to him. Her eyes, filled with concern for her friend, almost got Phoenix teary-eyed for real; he felt incredibly lucky he had Maya by his side. If she had not been with him, Phoenix had no idea what he would have done with his life. The girl provided him with a reason to keep going, as corny as it was. Without her, Phoenix's life would be nowhere near as interesting or worth living as it were.
“Why are some people so.. reluctant to…” He paused, taking a second to choose a word that would most accurately describe it. “...connect?”
Phoenix continued, his vocal chords tightening, “Why do some people get so defensive, immediately going straight for people's throats whenever there's something even mildly uncomfortable or unwanted or unexplainable?”
“Nick..” Maya spoke apologetically, like she felt sorry for him. “You can't blame him.”
Phoenix sighed. The man was about to say something when he froze. Maya had said ‘him’, so there was a possibility she knew who he was talking about. No, it was almost a certainty.
Maya giggled as she noticed Phoenix’s face flush. “It's okay, I know. Just tell me what happened. I'll only bother you about it when you're feeling better.” Her devious grin almost melted his worries away despite the half-concealed threat in the words. He was never going to hear the end of Maya’s chattering about him and Edgeworth.
Still, Phoenix told her everything, starting with how Gumshoe had asked him for a favour, worrying about Edgeworth’s health, convinced he would only accept help from Phoenix. When he reached the part where Edgeworth passive-aggressively accepted the items, and told him to leave and never come back again was when Maya let out an outraged huff.
“The nerve!” She pouted, folding her arms like an angry child. “You're so right, Nick, he's such a jerk,” Her expression morphed, finger brought up to her lip in thought. This wasn't a rare occurrence exactly, but Phoenix found himself a little taken-aback with just how much Maya resembled her late sister sometimes. “But then again.. Gumshoe said he was like, really tired so maybe he just snapped. I'm sure he didn't mean it.”
“Oh no, Maya..” Phoenix chuckled dryly, almost sour. “Trust me on this, Edgeworth never does something knowing he doesn't mean it. He meant every single word he said, I could tell. Some work stress is nothing for him, you should see the other cases he's had to handle.”
Maya frowned, the bitterness was harsh on Phoenix's tongue. “Gumshoe told you he wouldn't accept any help from someone other than you. That has to mean he, atleast, trusts you somewhat.”
“What good is that?” Phoenix sighed, feeling a little hopeless. He had no idea why the matter was even affecting him so much.
“Ooh, I know.” Maya practically leaped off the couch, standing right in front of Phoenix. “Go offer to help him out with the paperwork and the documents and all that lawyer jazz.” He was brought back to his thoughts by Maya's thin finger centimetres away from his nose.
He laughed, humourless as he flopped over on the couch, laying on his side rather awkwardly. Perhaps that hadn't been a wise choice, for he could feel a sharp pain in his back, forcing him to turn and lie properly, face towards the ceiling. Phoenix could feel Maya's eyes on him as she worked her brain to offer him some more advice. It was endearing how hard she was trying to help. The kid had a good heart, despite everything she had been through.
“He told me to never come back there again, remember?” Phoenix stated. “I'd probably even make him angrier.”
“Maybe not such a good idea then. Hmm.. what if…” Maya paced around the office, her wooden sandals making a distinct clopping sound against the tiled floor. “Ugh, just go to him, Nick. Make some excuse– wait, I know! Tell him you couldn't help but worry about him which is why you just had to check up on him again!”
Phoenix shot straight up, his face suddenly burning. “What! I can't just say th-that!”
“Why not?” Maya whined, a knowing smirk on her face. The brat knew exactly what she was doing. Phoenix would have had to take away every nice thing he ever thought about her; she was a devil with angel’s wings. “Are you scared of him or something?”
“Yes!” Phoenix retorted, his ears still flaming.
“Whatever… coward.” Maya huffed, crossing her arms.
“You don't know how scary he is.” Phoenix shuddered, his mind flashing him with an image of Edgeworth’s dagger-like gaze, the one that seemed to pierce right through his soul.
“Coward.” Maya repeated.
“I am not a coward.”
“Yes you are.”
“Am not.”
“Prove it.”
The spiky-haired lawyer halted. He rolled his eyes, “I don't have to prove anything, this isn't a courtroom. I'm not a coward. I'll have you know I had to face up to both THE von Karmas, and I won too.” Phoenix knew he was being childish, arguing with Maya this way but there was no harm in letting himself indulge in playful, child-like banter. After all, did take his mind off of more pressing issues.
“You're just saying that because you don't have any evidence. I've seen you in court, Nick, you only make that dumb face when you're bluffing!”
The caught him off guard. It would be wise to take them as advice. Phoenix made a note to work on his poker face later. “Still not scared.”
“Why don't you go make the evidence.” Maya smiled mischievously. “Prove you're not a coward by going to Edgeworth right now.”
“Wha– Ri-Right now?” Phoenix stumbled on his words, trying to come up with an excuse to shut down Maya’s arguments. “He’s extremely busy and he has a really important flight tomorrow, I wouldn't wanna bother him.”
“Ugh, you idiot…” Maya let out an exasperated sigh, and he felt something soft– a cushion pillow– make a thud against his stomach. “That’s exactly why I'm telling you to go. Offer to help him, Nick. Gumshoe said he didn't have time to eat right, and you already gave him whatever cheap trash Gumshoe could buy. So, why don't you take the lasagna we made together yesterday and give it to him?”
Phoenix was a little stunned. Maya would offer to give up the precious lasagna she had pressured the lawyer to help her with yesterday– inevitably just ending up eating the ingredients and leaving Phoenix to figure out the recipe for himself– for Edgeworth. That was unlike her. The Maya he knew would murder anyone who merely attempted to take her food away from her. Still, she had a point even if Phoenix did not want to admit it. Whatever Gumshoe had bought for him couldn't have nearly been enough for the prosecutor, and besides, it was gonna be late soon, he would probably get hungry. Perhaps Maya's idea had some merit after all, especially so now that Phoenix's mind started bombarding him with even more worries about Edgeworth.
“Are you sure? We worked hard on that.” Phoenix's voice was soft.
“Yeah, yeah.” Maya waved her hand dismissively, but the dark-haired man could see the hint of emotion in her eyes. She couldn't possibly want to part with her beloved lasagna so willingly. “Just get it to him… before I change my mind.” She added the last part in a mumble, but Phoenix heard it nonetheless, chuckling in response.
“Alright, Maya. Thanks.” Phoenix stood up, fixing his jacket and running a quick hand through his spiky hair. He walked to the mini fridge they kept in the corner of the office, and pulled out the lasagna dish wrapped in plastic. Deciding to heat it up in the microwave, he tried not to let his thoughts wander off to Edgeworth too much. He could practically feel Maya stare at the lasagna like a starved puppy who was being teased with a juicy slab of meat. Taking the dish out of the microwave and putting it in a spare paper bag he found lying around, Phoenix moved to walk towards the office door, when he stopped to look at Maya with a grin.
“I'll bring back a burger from that diner you like so much. My treat.”
The way her eyes lit up ignited a warm fondness in his chest as he watched Maya quite practically jump in excitement, squealing. “Oh my god, really?! Wow, you're the best, Nick!”
Phoenix chuckled, before leaving the office. He decided to walk. Edgeworth’s apartment wasn't exactly too far, if he were to put a figure on it Phoenix would judge it to be a walk for around twenty or so minutes. That wasn't too bad, besides, he felt like the walk might even clear his head.
A quick check of the surroundings confirmed that it was indeed getting late. The sun was dipping lower and lower and the darkness of the sky merged with the pool of reds and yellows at the horizon. He prayed to whatever God there was that following through with Maya's suggestion had been a good idea.
His legs carried him involuntarily. Phoenix had already memorized the address of the prosecutor and he knew the streets of the city far too well; after all, he had grown up here. The attorney found himself reminiscing about his childhood in the city, when he accidentally thought of his elementary school days. The classroom trial. The moment that had sealed his fate, inevitably bound him to that man. Edgeworth had inspired him in a way. But this Edgeworth was different from the one he knew, the one who had caused him to rethink his entire future. Sure, Edgeworth had never been the social or talkative type even as a child but he was so much worse now. He silently cursed the wretched Manfred von Karma for turning him into the demon that Phoenix had worked so hard to tame. But had he really been successful? Had he really saved Edgeworth in the way he had wanted? Phoenix himself still wasn't sure what he wanted. How had he wanted to save the prosecutor? What did salvation even mean to him?
Perhaps the spiky-haired lawyer should have taken his trusted bicycle. He found his arms a little sore from carrying the dish for this long. A look at the nearest sign let him know he was crossing an alley which was close to the apartment building he was looking for. The cold feeling of apprehension from before was beginning to creep into his heart yet again. Would Edgeworth just slam the door on his face again, tell him to never come back? Despite knowing it was probably what he would do, Phoenix had to stand his ground. Edgeworth had always been tough to crack but it was only due to unrelenting persistence that he was able to get through to him, even if just a little. After all, he had convinced him to let Phoenix defend him in a case that was sensitive to him, very close to him– if he had agreed to that then hadn't Edgeworth practically accepted Phoenix as someone he trusted?
Around five or so minutes were all it would take to reach Edgeworth’s door again. Phoenix was passing by yet another alley when he felt it.
A firm grip sprouted across his waist, and he was yanked towards the alley, his lasagna dish clattering and presumably shattering to pieces on the tarmac below. Before Phoenix had a chance to scream, rough hands pressed hard against his mouth; a man, a strong one at that was holding him tight.
Panic swelled in his chest as his eyes darted around in the darkness of the alley. Unable to yell or protest, he squirmed in the unidentified man’s grasp, panting into the hard hand across his lips. He couldn't breathe, he felt close to hyperventilating.
“Now, now, Mr. Wright.” A voice, a second man, spoke from the darkness in front of him. A sudden flash of light pierced his eyes and he flinched as the second individual came into view.
Phoenix's eyes adjusted to the flashlight glaring so harshly into his face, taking a good look at one of his attackers. The man was wearing a black face mask, concealing his features, but his wrinkled, cold eyes indicated a man somewhat older than he was. His hair was nothing out of the ordinary, dark brown, oily, and hastily tucked behind his ears, a little on the longer side. The most obvious observation however, was the large glinting knife he held in front of Phoenix.
His head was swimming with fear, and he struggled to let himself free from the other man’s grasp. They had known who he was, they had specifically targeted him. Were they associates of someone he had gotten convicted in his last few cases?
“I'm quite sure you remember Mr. Tigre, don't you?” The man waved his knife around rather carelessly. The way he held the weapon so loosely confirmed that he was bound to be a professional. “Tender Lender sends its regards or well, it would have if you hadn't put boss in jail.”
His suspicions had been correct. Tender Lender, Mr. Tigre– Furio Tigre. Phoenix remembered the case well, after all, it had only been a couple months. But they were here for revenge for their boss. Did that mean they were going to hurt him? The lawyer let out a muffled yell, huffing as he tried once more to break away from the men but to no avail. Eyes widened, his heart pounding against his chest, Phoenix writhed violently, hearing the man before him chuckle.
“Mr. Tigre ain't the owner of Tender Lender anymore, you see?” He continued in that rather stereotypical Brooklyn accent, “And I'll admit, he didn't even send us here to find youse. But we're loyal men, ain't we? I think he'd appreciate it if you'd faced some good old karma.”
Tigre hadn't even sent the men? And they were just acting out of pure dedication and loyalty to their boss? That was suspicious, how good could their pay have been? The man in front of him barked a small laugh before bringing his knife right up to Phoenix's face, the attorney gulping involuntarily. He had to act fast, otherwise they would just– An idea struck Phoenix, and he acted without thinking.
Phoenix brought his teeth down on the skin before him, tightening his jaw as hard as he could. He felt the metallic taste of blood, no doubt from skin parting under his teeth. The man holding him yelled, instinctively retracting back which gave Phoenix a brief opportunity of freedom. There was a blur of movement, screaming and struggling and Phoenix felt a sharp slash against the left side of his stomach. In a flash, he kicked the long-haired man as hard as he could, striking him somewhere he couldn't identify but he had hit his mark because of the cry that erupted. The pain only kicked in a few seconds later, when Phoenix felt a violent stabbing on his lower torso. His legs seemed to give out beneath him, collapsing on the floor as his hand reached for his side.
A warm, wet feeling pooled in the area, and he looked down to where he was clutching his sides, only to find a growing stain of blood. The realization kicked in, and the world seemed to sway beneath him. He heard a shuffling from somewhere nearby.
“Shit, you got him.” A voice presumably belonging to the man who was holding him.
“G-Grab his phone.. grab anything he’s got on him..” The long-haired man ordered. “Hurry we gotta get out of here.”
Phoenix forced himself to blink, the pain reducing to a heavy throbbing. His entire body felt like it had gained a couple more kilograms, and he cried out in pain as rough hands searched him. Eventually, it seemed the men had found what they were looking for when the hands retreated, and quick footsteps receded further and further until there was nothing but silence.
He needed to move. He needed help. He couldn't just bleed out here. Was this how it was gonna end? Bleeding out, abandoned in a dark alley all by himself. It was dark out, nobody was bound to be in the streets at this time. Phoenix pressed at where blood endlessly spilled out of him, it hurt. He had to move.
The injured man yelled, his throat seeming to rip as he forced himself to stand. He stumbled, barely walking, making his way towards the moonlight on the street. His vision blurred as he tried to steady himself, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think. He rummaged through his pockets, his phone was gone, so he couldn't call an ambulance. Phoenix was panicking, he was losing too much blood, a quick look down confirmed that. Blood coated his hands, it was surprising how much of it a human being even had. It was so, so, red.
Red.
He had come here because of…
Phoenix staggered as he tried to walk forward, the pain a dull throbbing that seemed to echo in his mind. He was surprised it wasn't hurting in the way he had expected.
Edgeworth.
He had to go to Edgeworth. He would know what to do.
Phoenix heaved and limped and practically dragged himself forward, Edgeworth’s apartment was close. If only he could get there.
He took a step, and another. His vision swayed dangerously.
A shoe in front of him, clumsy. A step. And one more.
Phoenix felt as if his life was being drained out of him.
Another step, and another.
Hands desperately clutched at the side of his waist, his blood was no doubt dripping on the asphalt below, leaving behind a trail that would lead directly to Edgeworth.
Hsi feet took another step and two or three more.
The stairs of the apartment lobby materialized before him.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
His head was cloudy, and there appeared a door, with a number on it he couldn't read.
Another step.
Phoenix's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his legs gave out. He practically fell onto the door, slipping down onto the floor below.
The cold wood of the door moved against his hot skin, and Phoenix heard a familiar voice. The world faded temporarily.
-
The heavy thud against his door had alerted Edgeworth, who had been rummaging through endless documents, case files, and reports. He grumbled, furious his flow of thoughts had been interrupted, as he threw the papers onto his table.
Edgeworth smoothed his hair, pushing his spectacles up on his nose as he moved to answer the door.
He had given detective Gumshoe a call a few hours ago, requesting he called the investigating team in Borginia for new details that had seemingly risen regarding the case. It was expected Gumshoe had printed out the information they had sent and was on his way to deliver it.
The scene from this morning popped up in his head. He had expected to see the detective and had instead found Wright, looking at him expectantly and yet with the nervous shake in his eyes he had grown used to in the courtroom. The man had been foolish to even think to come here. Edgeworth had forgotten to scold Gumshoe about the incident this morning, but thankfully, he had remembered and could now do so.
He opened the door, and the unexpected sight almost sent him into cardiac arrest.
The body of Phoenix Wright lay crumpled on the floor before him. Just what had happened? Filled with a newly birthed horror that settled deep into his chest, he yelled.
“Wright!” Edgeworth fell down onto the floor to inspect the man, “Wright? A-Are you..?” His fingers pressed against the spot on Phoenix’s neck, feeling a faint thrum. A little relieved, but still, panicked, Edgeworth slipped his hands underneath the attorney's armpits, heaving to lift him so he could take a good look.
Edgeworth was no weightlifter, so it took almost all of his strength to budge the man– Phoenix always had been towards the bulkier side. He was satisfied with his progress when he stumbled and Phoenix’s limp body collapsed on him.
“Ack!” Edgeworth retracted his hands, his eyes widening in terror as he comprehended the sight before him. His hands had come away stained with blood, and Edgeworth only just noticed the growing pool on the marble floor of the apartment hall. “W-What the..”
A sudden compulsion overcame him, and strength found him as he grunted, lifting the unconscious man and carrying him into his apartment.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He whispered to himself as he propped Phoenix up against the wall. There was blood everywhere he could think of, his hands, the floor, his own clothes. Edgeworth rarely cursed, the words never sat right on his tongue but he couldn't stop them from spilling.
Phoenix’s head lulled to side in a horrifying manner as Edgeworth assessed his injuries. The lower part of his torso was soaked in his blood, the cloth shredded like he was the victim of a mauling. Somebody had attacked him. The dark-haired attorney’s own hand was coated with the unmistakable sheen of crimson, probably from clutching at his wound. There were no other apparent injuries, so Phoenix had probably fainted due to blood loss. He was still bleeding. Just how much blood had he lost? What had happened to him?
Endless questions flooded Edgeworth’s hysteric mind as he practically ripped off his cravat, pressing it over the wound. He had to stop the blood. Phoenix needed a hospital. Why had he turned up here of all places?
No, no, he couldn't call a hospital. It would be too suspicious. Why had Wright mysteriously showed up injured violently in Edgeworth’s apartment? The suspicion would immediately be cast on him.
Edgeworth snapped himself out of his thoughts, he hated how rational he was being. Wright, the man who had saved him was bleeding out right before him and all he could think of was his own benefit.
What he needed was medical assistance, and he couldn't just ask anyone… who did he know, who would help him with this mess?
Gumshoe.
Edgeworth sprung towards his phone, hands trembling as the device was smeared in Phoenix's blood, fingers pressing the buttons on their own.
“Hey, sir, I was just on my way–”
“Gumshoe…” Edgeworth’s own voice betrayed him, coming out shakier than he had anticipated. The detective– bless his soul– immediately sensed something was wrong by the way his tone changed almost immediately.
“Wh-What’s wrong, sir? Is everything okay?”
“It's Wr-Wright.”
“Right? Oh, you mean Phoenix Wright– yeah, what happened?”
“Detective.” Edgeworth breathed, steadying himself. “Get miss Byrde here, now. She was a nurse or some sort of medical practitioner at some point, right?”
“Maggey? Y-Yeah, she was. I can ask her but wh-why, why do you need her, sir? And what's with Phoenix Wrigh–”
“Wright is unconscious… and he's– he's lost a lot of blood.”
“Wh-Wha–”
“Please, detective.” Edgeworth’s voice was strained. He had hoped it would come out stern but it just seemed like he was pleasing, which he was. “Get here. Now.”
“U-Understood, sir. I'm on my way.” He could practically see the detective salute behind the phone, “Until then, press on the wound, sit. Try to stop the blood in anyway you can.”
“Y-Yes. Thank you. Get here soon.” Edgeworth’s hands were shaking beyond control now, he almost dropped the phone as he ended the call and rushed back to Phoenix.
His trembling fingers pressed the white of his cravat, now stained with the attorney's bright blood, as firm as he could into the man’s waist. This couldn't be happening, Wright would survive, certainly, of course, he had to. A thought intruded into his mind all of a sudden; what if Wright died here? What if he died, right here, on Edgeworth’s floor, all because the prosecutor knew next to nothing about medicine. He had no first aid kit or anything. Edgeworth cursed himself for being so unprepared. It wasn't just about Wright, what if something happened to him in his own apartment.
No, he couldn't think of anything but Wright. He was still alive, wasn't he? Panicked, he lifted a hand to press at Phoenix's pulse once more, stilling as he strained for any movement. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he felt the faint beat still there.
His knees ached and his muscles were sore as he sat on his legs, leaning over Phoenix for what seemed like an eternity, pressing his cravat over his torso like his life depended on it– well, Phoenix’s did. He couldn't move, and he wouldn't. Wright needed him.
Desperation was creeping into his chest, where the hell was Gumshoe, he said he would be here? Maybe he was still searching for Ms. Byrde. What would happen if he didn't find her in time? Edgeworth felt another pang of distress strike him when the man before him stirred.
“Wright. Wright! Wake up, you're okay, stay here.” Edgeworth pressed his bloodied hand on Phoenix’s jaw, holding it up as the attorney's eyes fluttered.
“M-Miles..” Phoenix stated, the word sending a wave of worry and happiness and relief and God-knows-what through the prosecutor. First name, he had realized. When was the last time Wright had called him that? Perhaps when they were back in grade school?
“Phoenix, hey, it's okay. Stay with me, here.” Edgeworth kept his hand on the side of his face, Phoenix's cheek now stained with blood. He almost didn't even notice the intimate positioning until much later. “You're gonna be okay, we're waiting for help. Gumshoe and Maggey will be here soon, okay?”
Phoenix didn't say anything, his eyes closing shut but not because he was slipping out of consciousness. The man winced, and Edgeworth almost felt the pain with him. He could feel Wright’s laboured breaths, his stomach rising and falling strenuously. Edgeworth felt Phoenix's hand rise up, loosely slipping around Edgeworth's own that was cradling the lawyer's face.
The gesture made his chest ache with something he couldn't identify.
“Miles.” Phoenix whispered this time, almost as if he was trying to make the man understand something. Edgeworth was going to question him when he noticed Phoenix's eyelids begin to close.
“Hey, hey, hey. No, no, Phoenix, I need you to stay awake.” Edgeworth tried, but Phoenix was far too gone. The man went unconscious yet again, leaving Edgeworth even more worried than before. “Phoenix, please.”
The prosecutor felt his throat tighten, as he waited. He let himself press his forehead against the man’s shoulder, feeling his vision blur. He couldn't lose Phoenix too. The whole scene was reminiscent of the terrifying nightmares he knew only took well. The elevator. His father, lying against the wall almost exactly how Phoenix was now.
No, no, no, no, no. Not again.
Edgeworth felt hot tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.
He should've been kinder to him. Why had he pushed him away so much? He had been selfish. Everything had been his fault. There were countless parties after Edgeworth’s hide. What if they had gone after Phoenix, who had been so oblivious to the danger he was in, just because they had managed to find out he knew Edgeworth? That was why he had never wanted him to come here, exactly why he had told the idiotic detective to keep his places of residence a secret.
The door flung open almost immediately– the speak of the devil, and detective Gumshoe barged in.
“H-Holy.. okay, Mr. Edgeworth, please step back, sir.” Gumshoe noticed the prosecutor's condition, the tears on his face, but made no comments. He could be very considerate in his own ways, Edgeworth had noted. The authority seeped into his voice and Edgeworth complied, anxious out of his mind as he watched the detective and Ms. Byrde, leaning over his unconscious friend.
“Oh, dear, alright.” Edgeworth heard Maggey’s sigh as she rummaged through a box she had brought with her. “I need some space, Gummy.”
Edgeworth would have raised a brow to that nickname under normal circumstances but he couldn't dwell on it too much. The detective said something he didn't catch and left the girl to work, as he walked over to the prosecutor, not making any eye contact. Edgeworth could see the concern in the way his mouth twitched.
“Oh, man..” Gumshoe started, “How did the poor guy even manage to get that horrible slash?”
“I'm not sure myself.”
“H-Hey, don't worry though.” Gumshoe finally looked at him, “It's not too serious other than the fact he's lost a lot of blood but he'll pull through. He's stronger than you'd expect. And lucky, too, man, the stuff Maya’s told me…”
Maya… of course. The poor girl probably had no knowledge of what had happened. She must be worried out of her mind. Edgeworth made a mental note to inform her as soon as Phoenix seemed to make some progress.
Gumshoe's booming voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Sir, the case! Borginia! What are you going to do about that?”
Edgeworth had truthfully forgotten all about it until now. Uncertainties were all there were at this moment and this was no exception. He would have possibly had to make arrangements for the flight to be delayed. There was no way he would have let the hospital take care of Phoenix, and he couldn't burden Maggey, or Gumshoe, or Maya for that matter. There was no way in hell he'd entrust Phoenix to Larry either, the man would somehow manage to accidentally kill him. Did Edgeworth really have no other people he knew? There was only one option left then.
“...Can you ask the Borginian Prosecutor’s Office if they can manage to delay my flight to the day after it was supposed to be scheduled?”
“Delay your flight? Didn't they say this was all very urgent and you need to be there as soon as possible?” Gumshoe looked at him with that trademark confused puppy-like face of his, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I'm well aware, detective.” Edgeworth folded his arms, pressing his lips. “But I'm afraid this is urgent. Just let them know there was a medical emergency regarding a.. close acquaintance.”
“I dunno if they would agree to that, but I'll convince them sir, just you see.” Edgeworth let a barely noticeable smile slip at the determined growl.
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“No problem, s–” Gumshoe raised his arm to salute in that exaggerated manner of his, when Maggey's voice pierced the thick, tense atmosphere with her taut, feminine tone that pleasantly contrasted the detective’s.
“I think I'm about done now…” She announced as the two men moved closer to inspect the attorney's unconscious form.
Maggey had opened up his bloodied dress shirt, and where Edgeworth's cravat had been desperately trying to stop the bleeding, there was now a white patch taped to the skin. Without all the blood present, it was now easier to notice just how large the wound had been. The bandage was plastered across the side of his lower abdomen, some spots of blood beginning to become apparent on the dressing. Edgeworth would say the injury was about seven or eight inches long, possibly a slash due to a sharp object. The idea sent a pang of hurt through him. Just how had this happened to him, and where, and how had Phoenix made his way to Edgeworth's doorstep if he was attacked someplace other than this building? The prosecutor told himself to calm down, all his questions were going to be answered once Phoenix woke, once he was safe.
“I stitched up that gash, it wasn't too deep thankfully. My hand’s not so steady anymore so it’d be better if you’d get Mr. Wright to a real doctor…” Maggey informed them, packing up her supplies. “Your ruffly thing did the trick, Mr. Edgeworth, he wasn't bleeding too much when I was working on him. Just make sure his bandage gets changed twice a day until it starts looking better.” She handed him what seemed to be an ointment, and a roll of bandages and some tape.
“I understand, Miss Byrde.” Edgeworth nodded, genuine. “I appreciate everything you've done here. You and the detective.”
The woman smiled, pushing up her glasses with a hint of innocent pride, Gumshoe walking over to her side and giving her a squeeze on the shoulder.
“It's no problem, sir…” She rubbed her neck awkwardly with a sheepish smile. “I'm glad I was able to help. Oh, and–” Maggey raised an index finger, “Make sure Mr. Wright gets his rest. He's lost a lot of blood so he'll feel a little light-headed or tired.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” Edgeworth hummed, stealing a glance at the unconscious man before looking over at Gumshoe, a thought occurring to him. “And, detective.. could you send someone to clean up the blood in the hallway? I wouldn't want the neighbors to get worried.”
“I'm on it sir.” Gumshoe saluted, and the two turned to head out.
“Once again, I cannot thank you both enough and..” Edgeworth hesitated. “Please keep this between us.”
“Of course.” Maggey nodded, and soon, Edgeworth was left alone in his apartment, the unconscious form of Phoenix Wright left to accompany him.
Edgeworth hadn't even realized what time it was until he took a peek behind his curtain blinds, finding pitch darkness save for some street lamps illuminating the roads. A quick glance at his worst watch confirmed it was a little after one in the morning. The prosecutor turned, silver hair glinting in the moonlight as he went over to check on the attorney. He was still awkwardly slumped on the floor, his neck slumped onto his shoulder, which could not be good for his muscles. Edgeworth decided to hook his arms underneath Phoenix’s arms, hoisting him up. The couch wasn't too far so the man managed to drag him there, resting him as gently as he could, against the dark cushions.
The prosecutor huffed a few breaths, fatigued from the man’s weight. He stood over the motionless man, lost in some kind of daze he was unsure of. Edgeworth had no idea what he was thinking, but it felt right, just standing there silently, observing the slow rise and fall of Phoenix's chest, the tensed brow even in his state of unconsciousness. His eyes trailed over down, taking note of the crinkled fabric of the man’s dress shirt, where once it was white now caked with darkened blood. His signature navy blue coat has been discarded in some corner by Maggey as she had worked on stitching his wound– more accurately on the floor where Edgeworth's bloodied cravat lay crumpled on the floor. Phoenix's lower buttons had been undone to patch him up. Edgeworth could see where blood had smeared over tan skin, and where it hadn't. The attorney's skin was somewhat paler close to the navel, presumably due to the lack of exposure; he had never noticed how toned Phoenix was, did he physically train himself to this point?
Edgeworth turned away to avoid letting his thoughts stray further. The faint stinging of heat on the tips of ears signified it was time to leave the man alone to rest. Still, he found himself wondering when he would wake. For now, maybe he should focus his attention somewhere else.
Edgeworth walked to the pile of documents that lay near on his work table in his bedroom. The large quantity suddenly seemed more daunting than it ever did before, and the man sighed. He was in no condition to even think about the case at the moment. He never knew a mind could be so exhausted and overwhelmed simultaneously, that even contemplating what task to do next was a challenge in itself. Perhaps he would have to leave it until tomorrow. After all, he had an extra day to prepare now that he had requested one, provided Gumshoe could convince the people in charge. He didn't have any doubts about the detective, for he was fairly certain he would manage. If not he would simply be so annoyingly persistent that they would have no choice but to agree. Gumshoe was a valuable acquaintance that way. Edgeworth would probably have to be kinder to him at some point in the future.
He turned to his closet, and remembered how his clothes must be coated in blood. He ruffled through pressed office clothing, and deciding he should probably don something more comfortable, selected a deep brownish-red sweater and some gray jeans. After getting changed, he folded the bloodstained clothes and carefully set them in the corner of his bathroom. He would have to wash them preferably soon so that the blood wouldn't leave permanent stains, but as of now, he did not have the energy.
Without much thinking, the prosecutor made his way back to the living room, finding something a little different in the scene before him. It didn't take his trained eyes to spot that Phoenix had moved in his sleep. Where previously he had been placed to lie on his back, the lawyer had turned ever so slightly to the side, opposite to where his wound would be pressed on the couch otherwise. Perhaps he wasn't unconscious then, and was simply sleeping. That was a relief for Edgeworth, who sighed, feeling a strange tingle in his arms. It was quite chilly, expected on an early December day after midnight. Edgeworth could feel the frigid air settling on the tip of his nose and his hands despite the heating in the apartment and the surely wrinkled maroon coat he donned. As he had noticed before, Phoenix's own coat had been thrown away in the corner. It wouldn't be bold to assume the man was cold.
After a quick return to his own bedroom, Edgeworth, as silently as he could, covered Phoenix's limb body with the unused gray blanket that had been folded neatly on the edge of his bed. Edgeworth's eyes softened, the smidge of a satisfied warmth settling into his chest as he sighed, taking a seat on the armchair that overlooked the couch Phoenix was on.
Only as he was finally able to sit somewhere comfortable, did Edgeworth realize how long he had been exerting himself. His head felt heavier then it ever had since he started pulling all-nighters in order to prepare himself for the case. He really needed to pull himself together. Tomorrow would be all he had to make the necessary arrangements before this flight, and he had insisted on caring for the injured man alongside that. His reputation was at stake, and he had let his feelings take over.
The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose where his glasses rested, the piercing throb in his head growing sharper and sharper. He raised his head to glance at Phoenix, who was, of course, still passed out. He had used all his willpower to do anything to shut him out, despite how terrible it was of him– the attorney had helped him rid himself of his demons, and this was how he had repaid him– and yet, the stubborn, spiky-haired defence attorney had persisted. Edgeworth absolutely despised how unwavering his old friend was. How could Phoenix want to even speak to him after what he was doing in return? It tore him up from the inside out, knowing that everytime Phoenix would attempt to speak to him, he would have to remain distant. Even now, as he had told the man to leave, he had to suppress the stab of hurt in his chest as he watched the eagerness in Phoenix's eyes fade, eventually becoming empty. It hurt, knowing that Phoenix cared about him, and he cared too, despite every misdeed the prosecutor had committed.
It was true, he could simply just be friends with him. There was always the option he let their relationship flourish like how it would if Edgeworth didn't have to be so detached, however, he knew the truth. He could never let anyone close to him. He knew what the attorney thought of him, after all, he could be so transparent, especially because Edgeworth knew him. Everything Phoenix thought, what he was going to do, was so easy to predict. And if Phoenix were to get closer to him, that image the man had of the determined, righteous prosecutor would shatter into dust, for Edgeworth was not who he thought he was.
Edgeworth was not determined or righteous in any way. He could never be what his father was. Von Karma had corrupted him to the core, and it was irreversible. Phoenix was the one who had made him realize that, so why couldn't he realize it too? Edgeworth did not deserve the badge he carried in his pocket, after all, he was too scared to even wear it. The articles and the countless stories on newspapers and tabloids claimed he was ‘The Demon Prosecutor’, ‘a force to be reckoned with’. Yet, he had found himself growing more and more doubts about the law he had promised to uphold. What sort of a prosecutor did not even trust what he had been taught to protect and sustain?
He could never let Phoenix– or anyone, for that matter– see how truly rotten he was.
The more and more he pushed, the harder it became to reverse the damage that had already been caused.
Before long, the thoughts swimming Edgeworth's exhausted mind began to blur. He found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open, make sure that Phoenix sleeping before him was safe, ponder his growing frustrations, and soon, he faded to his first slumber in a number of days he could not care to remember.
-
Phoenix's mind swam unsteadily as he jolted to sleep. A bad idea, however, as a sharp stab of pain shot up his side and he winced, hand instinctively reaching for his abdomen when he realized he was tucked under a blanket.
He felt like he had woken up after a strong fever, somewhat delirious, his head thick and mind foggy. On top of all of that, there was an unbearable ache in his abdomen, he wanted to cry out everytime he even unconsciously flexed a muscle. Just what happened? He strained his mind, but– to his horror– to no avail. He craned his neck trying to assess his surroundings without letting that searing pain affect him.
Confusion and fright took over his aching head as he tried to figure out where he was. The attorney was sitting on an unfamiliar couch, and this wasn't his own office– Panicked, thinking he had been the victim of a kidnapping, he moved to get on his feet, biting his tongue to suppress the yell when a voice interrupted him.
“Wright– no, it's okay. Don't move.” An instantly recognizable voice, although the tone previously unheard of. Was it concern?
Phoenix instantly snapped his head towards the source, memories from the previously, the implications of what his being here meant, what would have happened, all rushed into his mind, overwhelming him for a moment. Edgeworth hurried over to him, sitting on a one-seated couch across from where he lay.
He remembered what had happened, of course, the attack, and how his last hope had been to drag himself here. After that, despite all his efforts to recollect his memory, he drew a blank.
Edgeworth was studying him, and Phoenix felt overly scrutinized under his gaze, though it seemed unusually soft. There was something strange about him– of course, his neck was conspicuously empty. There was no cravat, and that classic maroon attire, instead replaced by a sweater of a very similar color. Edgewoth was wearing a casual outfit; Phoenix had never thought he'd see the day. Still, the prosecutor ought to dress like this more often. Phoenix could not deny it suited him. He couldn't meet the Edgeworth's eyes, even as he spoke to him.
“Are you alright?” Edgeworth asked him, simply, obviously ignoring the way Phoenix was ogling him. “Do you… remember what happened?”
Phoenix finally looked up at him, trying to ignore the way his head throbbed. Edgeworth looked as horrible as he had before, when he had come to visit him; eyebags highlighted under his drooping eyes, silver hair unruly as it framed his angular face. Slowly, he nodded.
“Y-Yeah..” Phoenix explained, opening his mouth to speak. There were, quite frankly, a plethora of questions in his mind but somehow, not one was slipping on his tongue. “But, not everything. It's sort of hazy after I.. I got hurt.”
“I suppose you’re as confused as I am.” Edgeworth sighed, with the intent of a little humour. Phoenix wanted to recoil away, though not because he didn't like what a little humour looked like on Edgeworth, more so because it was very, very unusual. “I'll try my best to explain, but first, how do you feel?”
A pause, “Uh.. I can't think right. And I feel like.. I.. I've been really sick.” Phoenix tried to explain, hesitating as he tried to put what he felt into words. In the back of his mind, he could feel Edgeworth’s gaze on him, patient. “Like feverish, sort of. My head is killing me. A-And of course…” He pointed to where he had been injured.
Edgeworth nodded, “I see.” His tone was careful, like he was evaluating every word before speaking it. It made Phoenix nervous. “Would you like me to answer your questions first?”
He was talking to him like a doctor who was assessing his symptoms, and that was a little unsettling. They were friends, weren't they? Why was Edgeworth being so professional? Still, Phoenix couldn't say anything about the matter?
“Yeah.” Phoenix looked at his legs that were covered by the blanket. “What happened after I came here..?”
“Well, you were unconscious on my doorstep so obviously I was startled. I tried lifting you and I got blood on my hands which was.. a bit worrying to say the least.” Edgeworth began. “I brought you inside and tried to stop the bleeding. Then.. uh..” The prosecutor paused, his tone slipping for a mere moment that Phoenix wasn't able to catch. Nevertheless, he continued. “I called detective Gumshoe and asked her to bring Miss Maggey so she couldn't perform some first aid–”
“Maggey? Maggey Byrde?” Phoenix asked, confused. “You didn't call the hospital?”
“I- I’m sorry about that but…” Edgeworth wouldn't meet his eyes. “I wanted to have you attended to by a specialist but you see, nobody except a select few government officials and the police are supposed to know I'm still in the country. I-I couldn't risk it.”
Phoenix was silent. His work still came first.
“That's why I.. requested for Miss Byrde, knowing she had worked in a hospital for a while because she's currently employed as a security guard at the Prosecutor's Building.” There was a hint of regret in his voice, noted Phoenix.
“...”
“I understand.”
“Right…” Edgeworth replied, “And Miss Byrde stitched your wound. I noticed it looked like someone slashed you across your abdomen…?” A question formed at the end of the man’s sentence, voice softer than Phoenix had ever heard it.
“You got it.” Phoenix spoke sarcastically, attempting to lighten the mood, despite feeling so tense himself. “I was attacked, around five minutes away in an alley.”
Phoenix could practically see the multitude of questions that Edgeworth suddenly thought of.
“Attacked? By whom?” His eyes were wide. “And you say five minutes away, why exactly were you in an alley nearby?”
Phoenix chuckled, but immediately decided against it, wincing as a stab cut through his side. The real reason he had wanted to come here. His ears felt warm. The attorney resolved to answering the first part of his question first.
“I don't know their names, but I do remember what one of them looked like–”
“One of them? More than one person attacked you?” Edgeworth’s eyebrows were furrowed with what could only be described as concern. Phoenix felt his heart rate elevate. He was concerned for him.
“Th-There were two men.” He confirmed, “And they were probably Furio Tigre’s lackeys. I'm not sure you know him… Tigre was this loan shark from a case I had a couple weeks ago. He apparently pretended to be me and murdered this guy for a valuable computer virus he could sell. He’s in jail but his goons are still pretty loyal it seems.”
“Wright…” Edgeworth sighed, and Phoenix felt his chest stutter a little. “And why were you in the alley?”
“Oh.. uhm..” Phoenix was contemplating whether he should tell him the truth. However, he had hesitated too long for any alternative explanation to sound like a big fat lie so he decided to come clean. The lawyer looked away, and spoke. “I.. was gonna come here.”
“Wright, I thought I told you–”
“No, I know.” Phoenix interrupted. Why did he feel like a child who was admitting to stealing some other kid’s candy? “I was worried. With what Gumshoe told me and all… I wanted to ask you if I could help you and I had some lasagna that Maya and I made…”
The lawyer trailed off. Maya. Of course. She would be worried out of her mind that Phoenix didn't come back home. Chest swelling with worry, he frantically patted himself down, looking for the pocket where he kept his phone. He suddenly halted, feeling Edgeworth’s baffled stare, the men had stolen his phone, hadn't they?
He turned to Edgeworth, who was looking at him confused and quite astonishingly, Phoenix detected a little fluster, now that the real reason he was coming here was known.
“Your phone. I need to call Maya. Please?” Phoenix's eyes were wide, and Edgeworth returned to his neutral, professional face. “I think they took mine…”
“Of course,” Edgeworth pulled his cellphone out of the pockets of his jeans and handed it to Phoenix. The lawyer felt a tingle from where his cool fingers touched Phoenix's briefly, surprisingly contrasting the warmth of the phone. It was to be expected. The phone had been in Edgeworth’s pocket.
Phoenix immediately began to dial, fingers pressing the keys on the num-pad frantically as he recalled the girl's number. He felt Edgeworth move from beyond his vision.
“I'll give you some privacy.” He stated and walked to another room. He didn't close the door behind him, Phoenix noted absentmindedly.
The phone dialed and dialed until finally, she picked up.
“Um, is this?” The familiar voice questioned, distorted by the device’s speakers.
“Maya, it's me, Phoenix.” Phoenix blurted, unbelievably relieved that she answered. “I-”
“Huh? What happened to your phone– Did you accidentally delete my number or something again?” He could practically hear her eyes rolling.
“What– No– I wanted to t–”
“Whatever, Nick.” Her cheery voice had returned. Phoenix halted. She seemed completely oblivious. “So, how'd it go?” Maya continued, a teasing edge to her voice.
“How'd– Maya, you're not listening–” Phoenix explained, “The reason I didn't come back home… I was ambushed by these two guys. They got me. I got a knife wound but I lived.”
“...” There was a silence.
“Maya?”
“Nick, you stupid idiot!” Maya exclaimed out of the blue. Phoenix could hear a small sob, and his heart seemed to hurt. “I- I thought you slept with Edgeworth or something, that's why you were out the entire nigh–”
Phoenix's mind blanked, “You th-thought I WHAT?!” His face burst into flame, and he found himself turning to look at where Edgeworth had gone, praying that he hadn't heard anything.
“You're so dumb, I told you to take the bike, you wouldn't have been hurt. What happened? Where are you now, Nick?” She was speaking almost too fast to comprehend. Phoenix could feel her concern leaking through the speakers, and he felt his heart swell for his friend.
“Sl-Slow down, Maya.” He tried to calm her, his own face still bright red. “I-I'm okay.. Edgeworth, he.. um.. he saved me.”
Phoenix heard Maya’s sobs fade. The poor girl. Perhaps he shouldn't have bombarded her with this information. After losing her mother and her sister, he couldn't imagine what she'd feel if Phoenix had succumbed to the blood loss last night.
“Saved you?” She asked, her voice impossibly small. She sounded like a child, and Phoenix reminded himself that despite her age, she still was.
“Yeah. I'm okay, I promise.” He told her, softly.
“Wh-Where? I wanna see you.”
Phoenix remembered what Edgeworth had told him. People weren't supposed to know he was in the country at this time. Maya already knew but he couldn't let Edgeworth know that fact. He couldn't tell her to come here, it would probably just upset the prosecutor.
“I'm sorry, Maya, but you have to stay.” Almost immediately, Phoenix heard her begin to protest but he interrupted her. “I know, but I'm okay, you don't need to worry. Just.. stay at the office, okay? I'll be back home as soon as I can, okay? If you need to get something, there should be some cash in my briefcase. You'll wait, right?”
“...Okay.” Maya breathed, a little shaky.
“Good. Thank you.” He smiled, hoping she would hear it in his voice. “I'll see you soon, okay?”
“Hm.” Maya hummed.
“Bye.” Phoenix said, and ended the call. He clutched the phone in his hand, sighing. At least he knew Maya was okay.
A few minutes seemed to pass when Edgeworth returned to the room. Phoenix felt himself heat up as he looked at the prosecutor, suddenly, and unwantedly, remembering what Maya had to say about the reason she believed Phoenix had been gone the whole night. There was no way, why would she think that? Besides, Phoenix himself had never even thought about the possibility. But now that Maya had gone ahead and said it, Phoenix found himself unable to stop thinking about it. The idea would forever linger in a corner of his mind every time he would ever see Edgeworth again after whatever this was.
“How is she?” Edgeworth spoke first, sitting in the same couch as before.
Dumbfounded, Phoenix replied, “Who?”
“Miss Fey, of course.”
Ah, of course. “R-Right, Maya. I told her what happened.” Phoenix shook off his embarrassment, and continued with more control over his words. “But I didn't exactly give her any details. I didn't want to worry her in the time I…” Phoenix trailed off. How long was he gonna be here exactly? What was the next step? He couldn't even get off of this couch without screaming in pain so how was he to return to Maya.
“Wright?” Edgeworth asked. “Are you okay?”
The words made his chest flutter, and he returned to the present. Somehow, as soon as Edgeworth had spoken, Phoenix realized just how much like shit he was feeling. His head seemed to throb harder, and he felt a sudden wave of dizziness.
“I-I’m fine.” He looked at the man before him. “Um, Edgeworth… wh– what am I supposed to– what's–?”
Despite Phoenix's broken sentences, Edgeworth seemed to understand what he had intended to ask. “I– well, I felt responsible for what happened. If you'd allow me.. I can help you. For today at least…”
Phoenix's stomach twisted, and he could almost feel his mouth hanging open wide. Edgeworth’s case. His flight was today if he remembered correctly. Had he really given that up so he could care for Phoenix? The attorney snapped himself out of it. It couldn't be. A workaholic like Edgeworth, buried in case-related work give it all up so he could watch over Phoenix. The man couldn't bring himself to believe it. Surely there was another reason. But if what he thought was true… then why now? Phoenix had tried so hard to get closer to Edgeworth, to help him, to be there for him and he had shut him out. What was it that changed his mind? Phoenix had showed up, gored and bleeding, on the prosecutor's front door, trusting only him to be able to help. What had Edgeworth thought? With that calculated, practical, genius mind of his, he probably knew this looked bad for him.
What if there had been witnesses, people in the apartment who saw the scene as it had been? Edgeworth looking at a collapsed Phoenix Wright bleeding on his floor. All eyes would have been on Edgeworth at that point, everything pointing to him as the perpetrator.
He felt a sudden wave of faintness wash over him again. No, no. Was Edgeworth really that selfish? Had he saved Phoenix only because things would get very bad for him otherwise? Surely not.
But if Edgeworth didn't care about Phoenix, then what other reason could he have?
What was with his tone? Why did Edgeworth sound so concerned? What was wrong with him? All the coldness and hate so why had he changed his mind?
Phoenix felt the venom rise in his throat, his eyes stinging. “I.. I don't need your help.” He said with as much hatred as he could muster.
Clearly, it had the intended effect as Edgeworth’s demeanor slipped, the mask was gone again. The prosecutor visibly shifted, a little uncomfortable. “Wright, I.. I don't understand…”
“I don't understand you, Edgeworth.” Phoenix felt his voice tremble. He was glaring at Edgeworth now, hoping every bit of emotion he felt was etched across his face, deep in his eyes, everywhere so Edgeworth could feel it too. “I don't get you. You're so.. far away and then you’re talking to me like an old friend. You're so cold and emotionless and then here you are, pretending like you're worried about me and offering to help me and–” His voice hitched in his throat.
“Pretending?” Edgeworth simply looked confused. He averted his eyes. “Wr-Wright, it's not like that– it's.. I have a lot of work, if that's what you mean. I can't just ‘hang out’ with you all the time. I have duties.”
“That's not what I mean!” Phoenix exclaimed, his ears warming. A man as smart as him couldn't resort to playing dumb. He was like this on purpose and Phoenix needed to know why. “There's something else… something you're not telling me, I can feel it.” He couldn't stop the emotion from breaking his voice. A part of him wanted him to stop embarrassing himself, save himself the dignity, but the other, more pathetic part of him was desperate to reach out. To Edgeworth.
Phoenix did not have his magatama. It was back at the office in his briefcase, which meant that his attackers would not have had the opportunity to get rid of it. Even without the stone, he knew as he had known all the other times he had talked to Edgeworth. In the prosecutor’s presence, Phoenix had once subconsciously let his hand grip the magatama in his pockets, only to be led to the shocking realization that Edgeworth was still hiding something. Surely, it must not have been true after all they had been through together. A second time, he had done the same and the telltale locks had been there once more. That was how he knew.
In the present, Edgeworth did not respond to the confrontation and the attorney's eyes stung with hurt, confirming his fears. Despite it all, Edgeworth still didn't trust him.
“Say something.” Phoenix demanded, voice brittle.
“Wright…”
Phoenix cut through the beginning of an excuse, “Or are you going to run away, just like you always have? You seem to be good at it.”
The weight of his bitter words settled in a thick silence. Edgeworth had not even once met his eyes, face clouded by his irritatingly silver bangs and the mask he always wore. Phoenix couldn't bear to spend another minute in his presence. He was filled with loathe and unmistakable, searing ache. It was beginning to be clear. The attorney had been stupid, shrouded in his own obliviousness, his own unwavering delusion; Edgeworth would never accept him. And this was a truth that he had fought with every inch of his soul not to realize. After all, how could he? He had thrown his life away to help the man, only to realize he would never be able to accept his help at all.
Eyes brimming with angry, hot tears, Phoenix shifted to move. It didn't matter how badly his entire body resisted, stabbing him with violent jerks of pain. He could hear Edgeworth make a noise of defiance close to him, possibly urging him to remain where he was, but he didn't listen.
Finally, Phoenix looked at the prosecutor, and he looked too. There was a glaze of something unknown, a depth Phoenix couldn't care to understand in Edgeworth's gray eyes. He sighed, shaky. His entire body felt like it was made of lead, aching and heavy.
“I understand now.” Phoenix said. “I shouldn't have tried to help. It was none of my business. And you should've pushed me further away.”
With a groan, Phoenix moved, getting one leg off the couch when he felt hands reaching out for his shoulders, grasping them firmly in place. He could feel the coolness of his wet eyes as Edgeworth stopped him, head ducked down so he couldn't see his face.
“Ph-Phoenix, I was so worried.” Edgeworth spoke in a voice too brittle to belong to him. The tone alone shocked Phoenix to the point he momentarily forgot about resisting. The use of his first name was something entirely different. “I'm so, so, sorry.”
Phoenix couldn't move, he forgot how to speak. His mouth hung open, heart pounding.
Edgeworth looked at him, closer to his face than he had ever been before. The intimacy went unnoticed by Phoenix who was too busy trying to comprehend what was happening. There was an unmistakable sadness in the silver-headed man’s eyes. The one that had manifested only one other time– when Edgeworth had been on trial for murder.
“I'm n-not who you think I am. I'm not a hero. I'm not someone who can strive for justice. There– There's something wrong with me.” His tone was almost pleading. Phoenix could feel his fingers digging into his shoulders. Edgeworth was on the floor, on his knees next to the couch, staring at the lawyer. If Phoenix had been a little more sane of mind, he would've noticed the way the man’s lip was quivering. “You're trying so hard to f-fix me but you can't.”
Edgeworth took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “The reason I… left. I realized there was something wrong with me. I-I’m not fit to be a prosecutor. But if I'm not a prosecutor then what am I? I realize I was selfish in leaving everything behind b-but I couldn't do this anymore. I'm weak, just like Mr. Von Karma had said. I was selfish, leaving you behind like that with no warning… b-but I don't regret what I did…”
“Edgeworth, what are you…” The question died in Phoenix’s dry throat.
“I felt terrible. I knew about all you had done for me, and I had never been so indebted to someone this way. Wi-Without you, I wouldn't be here right now, Phoenix. And because I'm so useless… I couldn't even thank you. I despised you for being so kind, so good to people because you reminded me of everything I had wanted to be.”
“When I was abroad I- I realized some things about myself. I had to try to be better. But I couldn't work e-everything out. When I saw you again I was reminded of everything that had happened a-and I couldn't bring myself to be… normal.” The man continued, his voice vulnerable. “I could see the hate in your eyes and I knew I deserved it for leaving you the way I did but… I still didn't regret it. When I learnt you wanted me to never come back, the fact you hated me, I suddenly felt like I had lost something valuable I had never realized I had. But soon, you forgave me because that's what you do– you believe in people– and I felt even worse.”
“I completely understand what you think of me. You must have thought I was sick of you, the way I've been acting but the truth is far from that, Phoenix.” The dark-haired man felt his heart twist at the words, a new glimmer of hope forming. Was Edgeworth finally telling him the truth? Was he finally opening up to him?
Edgeworth took a deep sigh, the weight of the feelings he had concealed for so long heavily apparent. Phoenix never let go of his gaze even once.
“The truth is…” Edgeworth's hands moved, and his fingers touched the attorney's, resting on top of his hands as the prosecutor gripped them, gentle yet firm. “I care about you. I worry about you. But I'm too weak, I'm nothing I should be. My own incompetence is the reason I've hurt you. It would be best if you would never forgive me, if you would leave me alone. I don't deserve a friend like you.”
As Edgeworth finished, Phoenix found himself staring at the man in disbelief, overwhelmed with an amalgam of emotions, questions, and feelings. On one hand, he couldn't believe the words he was hearing. He had gone so long, endlessly aching inside, thinking that the prosecutor had despised him for being so attached to him, for trying to help like he always had, but now, Edgeworth had admitted otherwise. He really cared about him, and that fact alone made Phoenix’s heart swell with a happiness that made his eyes tear up.
Another part of him felt his chest ache harder than it ever had before. It hurt him realising that Edgeworth, a man he looked up to, a man who was confident, ruthless, and unstoppable, had kept this extreme self-loathing to himself for this long. He felt immeasurably pitiful for Edgeworth, despite knowing the prosecutor would probably kill him for even thinking that.
All he knew– all he had ever known– was that he had to help Edgeworth. It didn't matter what he said or did, Phoenix would forever remain by his side.
“Miles.” Phoenix spoke finally, putting as much softness, as much kindness into his voice as he could. The usage of the first name felt odd on his tongue, rough from the decades of going unused. Yet, he knew he had made the right decision to say it when the man looked at him with the wilting, gray eyes he had only ever seen when he was in grade school– an expression that had, beyond doubt, never allowed itself to be carved on his face in far too long. “I could never leave you. You know that. You've guessed as much.” And it was the truth. It was a little embarrassing Edgeworth had read him so effortlessly, but it didn't matter now.
“And Miles…” Phoenix continued, his lips forming a soft smile that would help console his friend. “There's nothing wrong with you. You're just… confused about things. I know you're a good person, which is why I'm here today. I knew you were always a good person, you just needed a little push in the right direction. And I'm happy I was the one who could do that for you.” He looked away, guilt forming in the depths of his stomach. “I'm… I'm sorry I behaved the way I did when you came back.” Phoenix's voice began to crack. “I thought you'd actually t-taken your own life a-and I felt like my entire life had stopped. I couldn't eat for d-days and if.. if.. Maya hadn't been there with me I th-think I w-would have…”
Edgeworth tilted his head, studying Phoenix's face sadly as the man trailed off, lips quivering as he tried to control his emotions. The attorney felt a shift around him, and soon, he could feel a warmth on his shoulders, the couch sagging slightly over the weight of another person. Edgeworth sat on the edge of the couch, next to Phoenix, who was sitting up on the couch, his legs and stomach covered with the blanket. The prosecutor had tilted to allow himself to place his hand on Phoenix's shoulder, squeezing gently as he faced him. Edgeworth had never been good with words, so the action alone made Phoenix's heart melt.
“Anyway, I..” Phoenix gulped the sobs away. “I don't blame you. I'm sorry I was so angry and… rude. I forgive you for everything. I'm selfish for wanting to save you when you don't need any saving. I promise I'll be better. I'm just happy you're safe.”
Edgeworth chuckled, though there was no cheeriness in the sound. “You're saying that when you're the one so horribly wounded. You have no idea how worried I was, and how relieved I was to know you'd be okay.”
Phoenix huffed softly, smiling with the shared lack of humor. “I.. I'm still sorry though. For everything.”
Edgeworth shook his head. “You don't need to be. There's nothing to be sorry for. I should be thanking you for what you've done. Really.”
“B-But–”
“No.” As Edgeworth interrupted, a cheeky smile formed, mirroring Phoenix's own grin. “And as repayment, allow me to care for you.”
The attorney felt his cheeks heat up, protest rising in his throat. “I– I can't let you do that. Wait…” The realization struck him. “Detective Gumshoe said you had some important flight today with your case in some funny country, what about that?! How did you– You can't just–”
“Calm down, Phoenix.” Edgeworth spoke softly, waving him off. “It has been taken care of. I can spare a day. After all,” He raised an eyebrow, mocking. “You did force me to become the one responsible for your safety when you decided to show up to my doorstep on your deathbed.”
“Hey, I trusted you to save me. I couldn't call for help and my phone's been stolen.” Phoenix protested, his skin hot to the touch.
“And I did and I will.” Edgeworth smiled, a genuine, soft smile that Phoenix had witnessed for the first time, his heart swelling. He should definitely smile like that a lot more often. “Which is why I will be attending to your needs for, well, today at the very least. So allow me to follow through with my repayment, will you?”
“...” Phoenix couldn't think of anything else to say, how to respond. How could he with the priceless look Edgeworth was giving him? A foolishly giddy smile caused his lips to curl, and he found himself nodding, going along with the man. Though strange, perhaps a day of letting himself be cared for by the prosecutor didn't sound like such a bad idea.
“Excellent. You must be hungry, no? It's unfortunate you weren't able to bring the.. lasagna you prepared with Maya. And after all the hard work you put into bringing it to me, I would have liked to have tried it.”
Phoenix was speechless, this was a completely different man. Was Edgeworth teasing him? He felt his face heat up, and was exceptionally embarrassed at the fact Edgeworth was probably aware of his blushing, intentionally causing it.
Thankfully, though, the silver-headed man continued, sparing him of any response because quite frankly he wouldn't have been able to come up with one either way. “I'm afraid I don't usually keep food in the kitchen so I will have to order something. What would you like for breakfa– well, lunch?”
“I-It’s fine, whatever you'd like.” Phoenix said, his stomach suddenly feeling painfully empty. He had forgotten how terrible he felt. “You need to eat as much as I do.”
“Hmph. I'll expect you to finish whatever it is then.” Edgeworth pulled out his phone to begin placing the order, and Phoenix smiled.
Soon, after the prosecutor finished ordering the food, he turned to face Phoenix, who seemed undoubtedly green. The man frowned at him. “Are you alright?”
“Uhm.. yeah, just felt a little nauseous.. and dizzy.” The spiky-haired lawyer replied. Though he felt a tinge of warmth at how Edgeworth was concerned for him, he could only focus on his throbbing head. The rather intimate conversation he had had with the man had lifted so much of the unbearable weight on his chest, but now that the more important of his worries were satisfied, he could finally feel the strength of his physical issues.
“I'll bring you some water.” Phoenix heard Edgeworth’s voice say, before retreating to what was probably his kitchen. He could faintly hear the clinking of glasses, and the flowing of water and then footsteps loudened until he could see Edgeworth’s outstretched hand holding the glass to him.
Thankful for the water, Phoenix took the glass and took a few sips, only just realising how parched his throat was and how devoid of moisture his lips were. He smiled at Edgeworth in gratitude before downing the rest of the glass and placing it on the table beside the couch he was on. His head still ached but at least he had managed to subside the nausea for now.
“Miss Maggey suggested your bandages be changed twice a day. I have some ointment–” Edgeworth probably realized the horror on Phoenix's face, the man trying to imagine how bad it would hurt considering he was struggling even with nothing touching the wound. “But, it's alright. It might hurt a bit but it's necessary.”
“Edgeworth…” Phoenix said, doubt creeping into his tone. He felt like a scared child.
“I'll stop if it becomes too much to bear.” Edgeworth offered, going to fetch the ointment and other supplies.
He couldn't protest because Edgeworth was already there, dragging a chair over to the couch facing the man’s torso. Phoenix let him remove his blanket, and suddenly, he felt too exposed for comfort.
“Lie back down.” Edgeworth said, and Phoenix complied, wincing.
It was annoying how he couldn't get a good look at what was happening, and with the anticipation and fear of what was to happen, he felt his gut churn. The fact he felt so unprotected under the man’s gaze, after realising his crinkled dress shirt, matted with his own blood, had been driven up, revealing a little of his torso, made his face flush.
“I'll uh.. need better access. If it's alright with you…?” Edgeworth didn't have to finish his sentence for Phoenix to know what he was asking, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest, he hummed knowing his voice would betray him if he spoke a word.
Phoenix could only stare at the ceiling, praying the heat in his face went away as he felt slightly cold fingers unbutton the lower buttons of his shirt, and pull it up, exposing about halfway up his stomach. Every alarm bell was ringing in his mind, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
“I'm going to unbandage the wound.” Edgeworth stated, and Phoenix was somewhat grateful he was voicing out his actions. He didn't have the freedom of getting up and viewing the scene himself after all.
Soon, he felt cold air hit the exact spot the sharp pain in his side originated from. The attorney could feel a pause in the other man's actions, before he spoke up.
“I’ll be cleaning the area with some warm water, alright? Let me know when you're ready.”
Phoenix gulped, taking a breath. This was bound to hurt, but as Edgeworth had said, it was necessary. If this got infected, things would surely take a turn for the worse. Mentally bracing himself, Phoenix gave him the greenlight, simply saying. “Okay.”
It was clear that Phoenix had underestimated how greatly the procedure would hurt. A blistering spike shot up his sides as he felt a cloth press ever so gently on his side. An involuntary cry escaped his throat and he jerked away from the prosecutor's hand, huffing.
“Wright, I know… just try to bear it. I'll be quick.” Edgeworth tried to console him, a sad guilt in his voice.
“I– Okay.. I'll try.” Phoenix brought his hand to his mouth, preparing to bite down on his flesh when the pain would come back.
The wet cloth was on his throbbing skin once again, and Phoenix clamped his hand over his mouth, suppressing his screams that only came out as muffled groans. He felt his free hand clench into a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm as his entire body tensed. He couldn't comprehend the amount of time that had passed, knowing only the excruciating stabbing at his sides, and the gentle patting on his skin, when the cloth lost contact and he felt a cool breeze on the wetted area.
Phoenix panted as the pain subsided. Edgeworth let him rest.
“You're doing well, Wright.” The laudatory words made his heart flutter. He had never imagined that Edgeworth was even capable of saying such considerate, comforting and yet, simple things even if they were in that calculated, proper tone of his.
He felt better the man let him rest around a minute or two more, before he spoke once more.
“Are you ready to continue?” Edgeworth asked him, “All that's left is the ointment and then I will reapply the bandage, yes?”
“Mhm.. okay.” Phoenix hummed, taking yet another deep breath.
This time, instead of a large cloth, he felt only a small place where his skin was touched, presumably a finger. The tip of Edgeworth’s finger was much more delicate than the damp cloth, so he only winced when he felt the ointment being slathered over his stitches, feeling chilly on his skin. The cold weather really helped mitigate the burning pain in his flesh.
“I'm done… I'll be putting a new bandage on the site now.” Edgeworth informed him, and he could see the man holding what looked like a gauze pad before it disappeared from his field of vision.
The prosecutor applied the bandage, taping it onto his skin so it would stay on firmly, before he pulled Phoenix's shirt down, covering his skin up, fingers barely grazing his stomach, eliciting a tiny shudder from the man.
There. Would you like me to help you sit up, or do you want to remain lying down?” Edgeworth spoke, and Phoenix could hear the careful choosing of his words, the gears turning in the prosecutor's head. The soft, professional compassion in his tone was still as unnatural as ever but Phoenix found himself growing used to this kinder version of Edgeworth. It made him seem almost human, or at least more human than normal.
“I-I’m okay like this.” Phoenix replied, not wanting to be any closer to the man than required because of the everlasting blush on his face. “Thank you. Again. For everything, I mean.”
“Please don't thank me.” Edgeworth looked away, and Phoenix could see the hint of a smile. “I'm not very good at responding to gratitude, you know.”
Phoenix chuckled softly, the gesture sending a quick jolt of pain up his wound.
“I guess you'll have to learn.”
“...”
“The food I ordered should be here soon. I'll– I'll be in my bedroom if you need me. Just call and I'll…”
“Edgeworth?”
The man turned to face Phoenix who was looking at him, a little awkwardly due to his position lying down on the couch.
“You can stay here, you know? This is your own apartment.”
“A–Are you asking me to stay here and wait with you?” Edgeworth asked, caught off guard. Phoenix could hear him stumble over his words, the dumb question slipping out. He felt happy he was able to do that to him by such a simple request.
“Yeah…” Phoenix replied, quickly changing his mind. “Unless, well, if you have some work or something like that I don't mean to–”
“It's okay, Wright.” Edgeworth gave him a small smile, “Did you want to.. talk about something?”
“Well…” A sudden courage sparked in him. Maybe the hunger and the blood loss and everything else that was wrong with him was finally catching up, aiding his delusions. Perhaps he would give in for the time being. Maya had once told him that he got very clingy when he wasn't feeling well, and when he was sleepy. This one of those times the girl hadn't been wrong, as Phoenix realized how badly he needed any form of attention. Especially from Edgeworth, whose attention he had been wanting for so long. Finally, he had it, and he wasn't going to let go so easily. “Can you just sit with me?”
The harmless, yet unconventional question was bound to have stumped Edgeworth, who looked at Phoenix like he had said the most unbelievable thing ever conceivable. It wasn't very likely someone just requested something like this from the man so often, being as closed-off as he was so it didn't surprise Phoenix. It did amuse him though.
“I.. I mean. Of course.” Edgeworth said, and moved to sit in the small space on the couch unoccupied by the attorney.
Phoenix couldn't read his expression, and though he felt happy Edgeworth had agreed, it wasn't enough. Maya had been absolutely right about him being clingy. He wanted to be closer.
The lawyer grimaced as he moved to sit up, Edgeworth almost immediately lending him a hand, helping him up. Phoenix let his hands linger in Edgeworth's just a bit longer than normal, before retracting them, feeling a quick wave of dizziness pass through him as the sharp pain in his wound diminished. All reason had left him at this point, and he was acting almost impulsively as he adjusted so he was sitting side-by-side with the prosecutor.
There was complete silence for a moment, no sound but the dull ticking of a clock from somewhere far off, the occasional chirp of a bird outside the window, white noise. It was comfortable though, and Phoenix presumed Edgeworth thought the same. He had never been a man of many– or well, any words for that matter.
Phoenix's body moved on its own, yet again, having no reason to justify any of his actions, when he leaned, letting his head rest ever so gently as if testing the waters, on Edgeworth's shoulder.
The first contact sent a soft tingle up his spine, and he could feel the man tense underneath his touch. Perhaps this hadn't been a good idea, and yet, Phoenix didn't want to move. Partially because moving back to sitting up would strain his abdomen, and his side would probably just hurt again. Only partially though. Still, Phoenix had stayed in the same position for far too long to move away and let his action remain casual. When he sensed Edgeworth made no movement, and seemingly let his shoulders fall a little, Phoenix decided that alarmingly, the silver-haired man was alright with him being so close.
Relieved, Phoenix let out a silent sigh, and let himself lean further into the man beside him, a comforting warmth seeping into his veins, consuming him as he felt the wool of his burgundy sweater. Phoenix breathed, intentionally deep, through his nose, aiming to take in the other man's scent, to memorize it. Edgeworth had bathed recently, likely last night when the attorney had bled all over his clothes; he would probably apologize and offer to wash them for him. There was an elegant, citrus-y yet floral scent to him, heavier, muskier. It was fitting, Phoenix thought, exactly how one would imagine he smelled like, reminiscent of his sharp, calculated demeanor, and the elegance of how he carried himself. It was perfect and Phoenix wanted to drown in it.
The man had almost lost himself to the drowsiness of sleep when he felt movement beneath him. Edgeworth had shifted, and the lawyer felt a warm weight on his knee. The prosecutor's hand gently squeezed, a small gesture that made Phoenix's heart grow big. He was very well aware the man found it hard to express himself, or try anything that might empathize with another human, so the mere fact he had attempted to console Phoenix was so endearing, the man felt himself smile.
Phoenix hadn't even realized how much time had passed– it could've been seconds, minutes, or even hours as he basked in the sudden and strange overwhelming solace he found in simply letting himself lean on Edgeworth; which was something he could have never imagined happening– when he was sharply dragged out of his confusing state of unconsciousness and being awake simultaneously, by the unmistakable sound of a doorbell.
He almost wanted to whine in protest as he felt the warmth of Edgeworth silently slip away, the man carefully standing and making his way over to the door. He felt a strange emptiness without the feeling of the prosecutor, his scent. No point in being so sleepy now, it was better he awoke to check on who was at the door. He could see Edgeworth murmur something to a man who was obscured due to his broad red back, and then hand him something before closing the door and turning around, bags of what seemed to be the food he had ordered in his hands.
“It's quite warm, here.” Edgeworth handed him the bag, the man opening it to retrieve a box made of cardboard. Phoenix could feel the heat from the container, and before he opened it, he spoke.
“What is it?”
“I just decided on a breakfast sandwich for you and I. I hope that's alright with you?” Edgeworth replied.
Phoenix opened the container to confirm his words and they were. A welcoming, delicious smell struck him and his stomach felt emptier than it ever had. “Aren't you gonna have yours?”
“I'm alright, I already ate when you were asleep.” Though his magatama was at the office, Phoenix had enough experience dealing with people lying to his face to know Edgeworth was not telling the truth.
“Don't lie to me.” Phoenix told him, leaving Edgeworth silent, dumbfounded and caught red-handed. He continued, “Have yours. I'm asking.”
Edgeworth didn't reply, and Phoenix couldn't read this expression, yet, he still sat down and silently admitted defeat, unpacking his own bag of food and taking a seat opposite Phoenix on the sofa.
Satisfied, Phoenix took his sandwich out of the container and took the first bite. It melted in his mouth, heavenly and warm, and Phoenix felt as if he had never tasted anything as good, despite the fact the sandwich, in reality, was quite mediocre. His appetite consumed him, and he ravenously wolfed down the food bite after bite, vaguely aware of Edgeworth nibbling on his own sandwich.
The man gulped down the last bite not too long after, and breathed a sigh. He hadn't realized how hungry he had been, and now that he had been sated, Phoenix certainly felt a lot better, more energised. He didn't feel like a block of concrete, and his head felt a little clearer, although he could still feel it pounding.
Phoenix looked up at Edgeworth, who was not even halfway done with his food, and carefully placed the empty container on the coffee table, back in the bag it had been brought in.
No words were exchanged for the next few minutes. In the comfortable silence, Phoenix tried not to stare at Edgeworth, even though his eyes kept drifting to his maroon silhouette for some strange purpose. The effort of trying to distract himself, and the fact that he had eaten for the first time that day, Phoenix felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The pain in his side still lingering, made itself known once more, and combined with his tiredness, made him feel groggy. He tried to keep his eyes open, trying to stay awake, but he couldn’t deny the warmth and comfort he was feeling, and let his eyes close, almost surrendering to sleep when he forced his eyelids open. It just didn't feel right to sleep right now, with the awkward tension in the air, and the uncertainty of what was going to happen next.
Finally, the sound of Edgeworth getting up alerted Phoenix to the fact he had finished his meal. The prosecutor gathered the remains of the containers and bags on the table, and left to discard them in the trash bin a little further off into the apartment. He returned, handing Phoenix a napkin, and after looking at his confused expression, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“For your hands. Must be greasy after the sandwich.” Edgeworth explained and Phoenix felt stupid, accepting the napkin and cleaning his hands with it.
After he handed it back to the man, Edgeworth continued. “You look tired. Get some rest, alright? I'll be in my room if you need me.”
Phoenix nodded, the exhaustion clouding his thoughts despite the fact he wanted to protest and didn't want the man leaving so soon.
Edgeworth probably sensed his reluctance, because the man spoke once more. “I’d.. like to stay here but as you'd understand, my flight is tomorrow morning and I'm terribly behind in doing my research for my case.”
Phoenix felt a small pang of hurt. That was right, he was going to be leaving again. He found himself wondering how long he would be gone. Especially since the two had resolved whatever bad blood they had had for the past few weeks– at least Phoenix had hoped so. Why did it have to be now, only after he had finally gotten the chance to be with the prosecutor?
“Okay… See you.”
“Indeed. I'll see you soon, Wright.”
With that, Edgeworth left him on his own, making his way to his own bedroom. Phoenix could see the door swing and click shut behind him, the warm maroon gone from view.
By his lonesome, Phoenix collected his thoughts. His mind rambled, thoughts flowing into each other, mostly about his circumstances, Edgeworth, and what he would do next. Edgeworth would be leaving the country tomorrow so Phoenix would probably have to go to a clinic for further treatment. He didn't have the money to do that though, so he would probably stay at the office and take a few days off until his wound had healed enough. Maya was probably worried out of her mind now that she knew what had really happened to him. He wished he could get back to her, assure her everything would be alright, even now, he wanted her to be safe more than anything. For now though, she had to be patient. Phoenix knew she could do it, after all, the poor girl had already been through so much now, this was not a task comparable to anything she had experienced before.
How long would it take for his wound to completely heal? Phoenix bet it would leave a rather ugly scar. At least he would have a fun story to tell. Not that it had been any fun getting the scar. It still hurt, unsurprisingly. And though fed, Phoenix still felt a little sick. His thoughts soon merged with one another, exhaustion creeping, and soon, his eyes fell shut, the attorney drifting to the tempting slumber that reached for him.
-
When Phoenix awoke, it had felt like he only had a few seconds of the best sleep in his life and they had been snatched away from him.
He mumbled incoherently, protestant, as he felt someone shaking his shoulder gently. His vision was still hazy as he squinted, trying to force his eyes to focus. He groaned as he was pulled out of his deep sleep, eyes adjusting to the apparently dark room. How long has it really been? What time was it?
“What.. huh..?” He muttered groggily, realising who it was who had awoken him.
“It's almost midnight, Wright…” Edgeworth’s quiet voice explained. He was crouched over the couch where Phoenix was sleeping, face barely visible in the dim lighting. Edgeworth was back in his fancy courtroom attire– the burgundy suit, his dark waistcoat, and the trademark cravat adorning his neck. Phoenix almost missed the domesticity of the sweater he had been wearing before. The shimmering highlights of the pale moonlight caught his eyeglasses; Phoenix hadn't known the man needed them. It was the first time he was seeing them, along with so many other things he had found out about Edgeworth in the little time he spent with him today. Phoenix found himself wondering if he knew the prosecutor as well as he thought he did. What else was he keeping to himself?
“O-Oh…” He replied, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The rest had done him good. His head wasn't aching so badly anymore, and he only felt slightly heaviness. His limbs didn't feel so rigid, and he felt livelier than he had before. The pain still lingered in his wound though, but that was to be expected.
“I..” Edgeworth began, “My flight’s in a couple hours. I need to be heading to the airport.”
The words took a minute to sink in, and Phoenix felt suddenly hollow as he remembered what Edgeworth had told him a few hours ago.
“When… When will you be back?” Phoenix spoke, his throat dry.
He saw Edgeworth swallow, “Not too long. I'd say around two weeks or so.” He paused, studying Phoenix's wilted eyes before continuing. “Obviously, I can't leave you here alone so I've arranged for detective Gumshoe– in fact, I believe he is on his way and should be here soon– to escort you back to your office.”
So, he could see Maya again. That seemed to lift his spirits a little, though he wasn't too sure why he felt so dejected by the fact Edgeworth would be gone. Two weeks wasn't a long time at all. It wasn't like he couldn't contact him either, this was the age of technology after all.
“And I've set aside some funds for you. The detective–”
Phoenix's eyes widened as he registered the words, and he interrupted the man immediately. “I'm not taking any of your money.” He said decisively.
“Wright, please do not argue, I've already done so.” Edgeworth cut his thoughts off. “It would be worse if I put in the effort of arranging it for you, and you didn't accept it.” He added. The bastard probably knew Phoenix was never going to let him help financially so it would have been much better to use his humility against him. “As I was saying, the detective will assist you with everything. The money will cover for any treatment you may need for your wound and any prescription medication. Unfortunately, all I could have done was provide you with some basic first aid so I insist you get proper treatment as well.”
Phoenix couldn't reply. He was being too kind to him. It felt so wrong but so endearing at the same time. Simultaneously, he felt disappointed by the fact he would be leaving soon. Everything was confusing.
“Anyways, I have my belongings packed. I will wait with you until the detective arrives with transportation. Do you require something from me, Wright?”
“...Not really.”
“I see.”
“...”
In the deafening silence, Phoenix desperately tried to calm his aching chest and think of something to say. There wasn't much time left and he knew he had to say something to Edgeworth, but he couldn't put everything he felt into words. He knew he was thankful for how Edgeworth had saved his life, but that wasn't all. He wanted to tell him to stay and never leave him, he wanted to tell him that he needed him, he wanted to apologize for everything, he wanted him to know he would always be there for him no matter what. But why was he feeling like this? Edgeworth wasn't leaving the country for good. Perhaps he had realized that an opportunity to really talk to the real Miles Edgeworth would never come again. A part of Phoenix’s heart told him that after today, Edgeworth would never open himself up to him, that after today, everything would go back to the way it had been– the ever-so-distant Edgeworth, and Phoenix who desperately wanted to close the distance between them forever. This was the best opportunity he would ever have to make things go the way he wanted them to.
Phoenix didn't realize his hands were shaking ever so slightly, and that his throat had swelled up internally, until he felt Edgeworth's concerned eyes on him and he was forced to gulp everything down and look him in the eye.
“Wright, are you okay?” Edgeworth asked him, leaning closer, concern dripping from his voice. Phoenix’s heart pounded. “Do you have a fever?”
He felt Edgeworth bring up a cool hand to his forehead, pressing his palm against his skin that was much warmer than his, but not dangerously so. Phoenix heard Edgeworth sigh quietly in relief, a gesture that made him feel another pang. The man brought his fingers to his jaw, holding the side of his face. He was so close. He was staring at his features obscured in the dark, searching for signs of illness, and Phoenix couldn't take it anymore.
The attorney brought his hand up, placing it over Edgeworth’s which was cradling his face. He could feel the prosecutor's fingers tense upon his touch, yet he remained there, eyes transfixed, unwavering on Phoenix's heterochromatic ones, searching. He didn't move away, and Phoenix’s heart pounded.
Unknowingly, Phoenix found himself trying to familiarise himself with Edgeworth’s features, updated with the addition of his rectangular glasses. It wasn't like he had never seen his face before, but still, he was simply breathtaking up close. His pale skin looked silvery, and pure under the faint moonlight that came in through the window. Phoenix could see everything so much clearer than he ever had, like the small moles littered across his cheek, the wrinkles in his forehead from furrowing his brows so much, the sharpness of his cheekbones complimenting his thin, strong nose, and his lips. Phoenix had never been able to deny the fact he found Edgeworth attractive. Of course, Maya and her clever little bratty self had figured that much out and teased him relentlessly ever since she had pieced it together. But right now, all Phoenix could think about was how beautiful he was. Everything else seemed irrelevant at the moment.
Edgeworth noticed him ogling, and when he tilted his head ever so slightly, a nervous glint in his ashy eyes, a knowing smile spread on his lips and Phoenix felt his cheeks heat up. It didn't matter though, because his sight was glued onto his thin, perfect lips.
He had never prayed to anyone for something this badly. Phoenix yearned to know what Edgeworth was thinking. He would give anything to be able to understand him. This was the most open he had ever been and would probably ever be, yet Phoenix still couldn't see what was behind his true mask.
Soon, intoxicated by well, something indescribable– Phoenix couldn't control himself any longer. His heart pounding faster and faster, beating against his ribcage, Phoenix felt himself leaning, drawing in towards the man like a magnet, achingly slow.
It felt entirely right, when he opened his eyes everywhere so slightly, finding Edgeworth's eyelids shut, the prosecutor himself moving and Phoenix felt a thrill.
It was when their lips connected that he realized he was completely under Edgeworth's spell.
Slow, cautiously, he felt the man’s hot mouth move against his and he responded with equal care. The kiss was soft, as if they were testing the waters, which they were. Phoenix’s heart was sparking, and he was vaguely aware of his arms wrapping around Edgeworth, a desperation overcoming him. Still, he remained wary, as if overstepping by the tiniest amount would make the ice crack, and the two of them would plunge into the chilling depths of darkness below.
He was kissing Miles Edgeworth, he soon realized with bewilderment.
And Miles Edgeworth was kissing him back.
Too bad the sound of the doorbell ringing cruelly interrupted them, and the two men practically flew apart, Phoenix feeling his cheeks grow hotter than they ever had. His heart was pounding faster and faster as he tried not to make eye contact with Edgeworth who wordlessly left to answer the door. What the hell had happened? Had kissing him been the right move?
Filled with a sudden dread, Phoenix began to feel horrified. What if that had been it? The breaking point. Nothing would ever be the same anymore. How would he ever look the man in the eye ever again?
In Phoenix's myriad of fantasies, he had always imagined their first kiss to be passionate, sensual and filled with desire and want. But what could this be described as? The complete opposite?
A familiar booming voice entered the room, Edgeworth's own quiet speech followed behind and soon Detective Gumshoe was standing before him, a toothy grin presenting his crooked teeth. Phoenix was forced to swallow the apprehension that had begun to grow in the pits of his core, and smile back at the detective, although a little weakly.
“Hey, there, Mr. Wright. How you feeling, pal?” The man asked him in a friendly manner.
“Better. Thank you. Edgeworth told me what you did for me.” He replied, avoiding looking at the prosecutor who stood beside the detective.
Gumshoe brought a hand behind his neck, obviously shy. “It was nothing, pal. You would've done the same for me. At least I hope.” He chuckled, taking a pause before slapping his hands together, rubbing them. “Now, you ready? I have my car waiting for us downstairs, and for you, Mr. Edgeworth, sir, a cab has been arranged for the airport.”
“I appreciate it, detective.” Edgeworth spoke.
“Right, and can you walk?” Gumshoe looked at Phoenix, who didn't have to reply because the silver-haired man answered for him.
“If you wouldn't mind, detective, Wright needs assistance with that.”
Phoenix frowned, but he wasn't wrong. He could barely sit up and lay down without his sides bursting into pure agony.
“No problem, sir.” Gumshoe saluted, “I'll just carry him down then.”
“Wait a minute, carry?” Phoenix's eyes widened, “You don't need to do that–”
“Nope, it's decided. Just tell me when.”
“Ah, detective, just give us a few minutes.” Edgeworth said, and Phoenix's heart hammered, this time in fear. What did he mean to do? “Just a little privacy, we have something to discuss. If you could wait outside?”
“Of course, sir.” Gumshoe nodded, oblivious to Phoenix's pale face and wide, skittering eyes as he walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Edgeworth waited until the last click of the door was heard, before he turned around to face Phoenix, looking straight at him, his face completely unreadable. Phoenix felt so little at that moment, completely cornered, he could practically feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He couldn’t stop his mouth from blurting out his thoughts, defensive, and panicked.
“Listen, Edgeworth, what I– what we did– I didn't mean to–”
“Wright.”
“I'm so s-sorry, we shouldn't have. I shouldn't have forced an-anything and I’m praying th-that you forgive me and I r-really don't want this to change anythin–”
“Wright!” Edgeworth's voice interrupted him, and Phoenix stopped, mouth suddenly dry.
And then, the man smiled. It was unexpected, but there was no mistaking the soft, welcoming curl of his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly to the right. Phoenix’s chest lurched, he had never felt such a warmth exuding from the Demon Prosecutor ever before. Slowly, he felt the tightness in his chest ease, and the look on Edgeworth's face– no, his mere presence, told him everything would be alright.
“I-It’s okay…” Edgeworth told him, his eyes shifting so there was now an unreadable glint to them. His voice remained soft, careful as if he didn't want the detective, who was likely standing outside the door, to listen. “We don't have to talk about that now… I just… There's no time.” He stated, as if trying to console him.
Phoenix gulped. This hadn't gone as he had expected. He had assumed Edgeworth would hate him, he would be angry with his rash actions, he'd feel nothing for him but disgust… but this was different. He had been careful with his words. He hadn't explicitly mentioned he had been okay with the kiss, or if he had somehow enjoyed it. Edgeworth was calculated that way. Still, there was hope.
“I promise I'll be here next time.” Edgeworth looked away, his eyes concealed by the solver bangs dropping over them. “I promise I'll be better. I promise I won't… be so far away.”
Phoenix felt his heart flutter as he felt the man close the distance between them, and lean in front of him. He felt warm, bony hands grasp his own, squeezing his fingers gently. The attorney was speechless.
“I promise we'll talk when I get back. I-I’ll come to you this time.” Edgeworth said, before meeting the dark-haired man’s eyes. “But you have to promise me one thing…”
“...Anything.” Phoenix found himself whispering.
Edgeworth gave him a sad smile. “If I'm the same way as I was before, I want you to promise me you'll abandon me. If I haven't changed, I don't deserve your friendship.”
“Edgeworth, what– I can't just do that. You know I can't–” Phoenix knew and so did Edgeworth. The prosecutor had always been like the unrelenting pull of a magnet to him. No matter how hard he tried he could never make himself want to leave the man. It had been like that ever since he had saved him as a child.
“I know. But you have to promise me anyway.” He squeezed his hands again, looking at him with expectation in his eyes.
Phoenix found himself unable to draw away from his gaze. There had always been something about him that had rendered him unable to refuse. Still, he acquiesced, nodding slowly.
Edgeworth's eyes crinkled, and he drew away from him. “Then… this is goodbye, Wright…”
“It's more like a ‘see you later’, isn't it?”
“Well, I suppose it is.” Edgeworth replied, the softness in his features a sight Phoenix would try his best never to forget. “See you later, Phoenix.”
“See you soon, Miles.” Phoenix said.
With that Edgeworth knocked on the door, signalling for the detective to enter once more to help Phoenix to the car. As Gumshoe entered, Edgeworth turned to give one last, unintelligible look to the dark-haired lawyer, who could only stare back with an equally indecipherable gaze. And then, he turned, his maroon coat swishing behind him as he disappeared out the door and away from Phoenix.
“Alright, pal. Let's get you down to the parking lot, yeah?” Gumshoe grinned a toothy smile, as he extended his arms towards the man.
Despite his outwardly clumsy appearance and unfathomably large hands scarred and bandages and calloused all over, the detective was surprisingly gentle when it came to supporting the injured Phoenix, half-carrying him down the stairs of the apartment building, and towards a silver sedan parked for the two of them.
Soon, the car’s engine sputtered to a start, and with Gumshoe in the passenger seat and an unfamiliar driver kicking the car into first gear, Phoenix was glad he was alone in the backseat, away from the eyes on every grimace and wince that he would let out when the vehicle hit a bump in the road. Alongside that, he found himself staring out the window, watching the Japanifornian streets pass by in a dazing blur, the occasional cars whooshing past, the rolling asphalt below a soothing, almost hypnotic motion. His thoughts wandered to the prosecutor once more, and for the first time, he didn't feel a deep, aching heaviness weighing on his chest as he pondered the man. Instead he felt almost hopeful, almost happy.
As the streets became more and more familiar, he wondered about Maya as Wright and Co. Law Offices appeared into view. She must have been worried sick. Luckily, Phoenix came with new gossip and he knew any ill feelings Maya would have had would be washed away with some details about what happened at Edgeworth's. Well, maybe not everything, Phoenix thought, his cheeks heating at the memories that seemed like they were almost months ago.
Perhaps Edgeworth had really cared for him after all.