Work Text:
“Dear Maya Fey,
I have been meaning to send off this letter for a long time; the chance that it ever reaches you, however, is slim. Despite myself not quite knowing how to start this, I’ll try my best.
You know me well, so you know I hate rambling foolishness, of myself and others. But I suppose I understand it a bit now. I’m not sure if you’ve had this feeling before, but I’m not sure what it is. Often when I think about you I start to get anxious. My face heats up, and I feel some sort of adrenaline rushing through my body. Admittedly, I’ve always had these foolish reactions to you. I’ve always hated them. I seldom view them as something other than ‘imperfections‘. Foolish, unheeded anger upon seeing your foolish face. Upon hearing your foolish voice. Upon feeling your foolish touch.
It makes me feel foolish to have to admit foolery in my perfect logic, but I suppose I should ‘come clean‘. You are one of my best friends, so why should I have such foolish irritability towards you? I have finally come to an unfortunate, foolish realization. How should I put this? I have feelings for you, to be curt. The ones of affection.
Even now, I feel myself blush and quiver as I think about you ever finding out my love. A foolish part of me wishes that my foolish feelings for a fool like you are unrequited. How would I ever be able to live up to such a perfect fool?
There's another truth I must share. I'm far from perfect, despite my foolish claims and pretenses. The way you look at me makes me feel vulnerable. Weak. In a way which I would foolishly hug you and hold your hand as I foolishly cry and tell you how horrible I am. Your voice, which I foolishly believed I resented, now makes me feel something abstract. I despise the feeling in all its unsure, bumbling foolery. I hate the way you make me feel. The unease, the uncertainty, the ebbing feeling of not being good for a fool like you. I am sorry.
I’m sorry for treating you as a fool. I’m sorry for not acknowledging you. I’m sorry for not telling you how perfect you are. I’m sorry for not acknowledging the feelings that fester inside of me. I suppose I’ve found the foolish hope in my chest that you could ever forgive me, let alone love me. But I have no right to have such foolish expectations. I will accept the punishment of not treating you like a friend. Like a lover, perhaps.
As my pen scratches this sheet of paper, it’s more in a robotic manner. I want to turn this into a proper love letter. Like the ones where I would foolishly spout about how I love every detail of yourself. The frizziness of your hair, your freckles which you so poorly cover with concealer; your body, which you constantly call “fat” despite you looking like a foolish twig. Your big mouth of which you constantly babble on out of; your wide, expressive gray eyes which you look so fondly out of. Everything about you is so foolishly wonderful.
That was foolish, but I cannot erase, so I suppose I’ll just crumple this paper. Perhaps one day, if you find it in your heart to forgive my foolishness, you’ll receive this letter. I suppose I’ll stop this foolish rambling here.
Sincerely yours,
Franziska von Karma”
Maya brings the paper closer to her face, inspecting it and trying to find out if it was truly Franziska who had wrote it. She blinks rapidly a for a few seconds before a large, childish smile crosses her face. She crumples the paper back up and looks around a second to make sure nobody was around. Her hands shake with excitement, her heart fluttering in its cage before she squeals in delight. Adrenaline takes over her body as she bounces on her feet, dancing happily. "Nick! Nick! C‘mere! I have something to tell you!"
Phoenix groaned, loud enough to hear in the other room. "You c‘mere. I‘m tired."
"Phoenix Turner Wright! Fine!"
Maya skips into the other room, grabbing the door frame and sliding to a stop. She bounced, grinning again before walking over and sitting down next to him, a bit calmer. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Nick? Or at least had someone ask you out?"
He laid back more, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yes. Not good ones though. Do you have a crush?"
"I don’t have a crush Nick, I have a girlfriend!" Maya exclaimed.
Phoenix sits up for good this time, the left side of his face wizened from sleeping so heavily on the couch. "Oh, yeah? Who?"
"Fran- Huh. What if, actually…Well, I found a letter on the ground, to me. About love. To me. But…what if it’s fake, Nick? Or what if it’s from a really long time ago and now she’s moved on, or what if-"
Phoenix extends his hand towards Maya. "Let me see."
He scans over the paper. "I don’t think so, Maya. It looks like her hand-writing, and the ink looks fresh."
Maya‘s face lights up once again and she jumps up and down. "Yippee! What should I do, Nick? Should I call her or run over to the prosecutor’s office!"
Phoenix chuckles. "Franziska’s in Germany, along with Edgeworth. I think only Jesus could run over there. You should call her."
Maya bods excitedly and without another word sprints to find her cell phone.
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On the other side of the world, Franziska’s cell phone rings. It takes a moment for her to wake up to get it, but she begrudgingly does, just in case.
At Maya‘s loud voice Franziska‘s phone makes a squealing noise and she groans, turning away a bit. "What is it, Maya Fey?" she asks, her German accent a bit more noticeable in the morning.
"Franziska, I found your letter, and I just wanted to say-"
Franziska hangs up immediately, her face suddenly pale. The letter was gone. How in the world did a single letter she wrote a week ago get across an entire ocean-
Miles Fucking Edgeworth.
Franziska springs out of bed, walking around her room as she calls her little brother, waiting for him to pick up. Once she does, she snaps,
"Miles Edgeworth, betreten Sie nie wieder mein Haus, berühren Sie nie wieder meine Sachen und schicken Sie keinen Brief, den ich schreibe, ohne meine Zustimmung über die Meere!"
(Miles Edgeworth, do not ever enter my hous again, do not ever touch any of my things again, and do not ever send any letter I write across the seas without my consent!)
Edgeworth is silent for a moment before answering in a barely smug way, "You would be more sorry than I will if you were stuck in a situationship for the rest of your days, hm?"
Franziska stutters in her anger for a moment before snapping, "How did you even get it to her!"
Edgeworth scoffs. "A certain scruffy detective, who I‘m sure you can guess."
Franziska hangs up for the second time that night, flustered. She would sort it out…tomorrow, maybe.
—————————
"Hey, no problem pal, it’s my pleasure," chuckles Gumshoe as Phoenix hands him a five dollar bill.
"Really Gumshoe, thanks a lot. I have enough sapphic woes on my hand with Trucy, didn’t need to keep having more."
Gumshoe raised an eyebrow. "Look pal, I dunno what that means, but if you ever need anymore dirty deeds done dirt cheap I‘m open, y‘hear?"
"Yup. See ya Detective, have a nice night."
Gumshoe grins and walks off with a pep in his step, going to buy himself some Pop Tarts.