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It all started when he began meeting Miles for coffee, once or twice a week.
Now that their lives had calmed down a bit, AND they were living in the same country again, these regular meetups were a bit of well-needed maintenance to their friendship that Phoenix was honestly? Really enjoying. Their friendship felt more...continuous, as if they were on a road trip together, rather than the staccato bursts of necessity and bated-breath emergencies that necessitated their social interactions.
It was nice. They got to drink coffee in a relaxed environment, and they got to actually talk, exploring the corners of their friendship, and opening up to one another with the knowledge that they would meet again, with a smile and a nod, in just a few days.
“My father was diabetic,” Miles said, one day.
“Oh really?” Phoenix asked, taking a sip, “I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, well. He was quite private about it. I remember...Friday afternoons, when he would take his insulin via syringe,” Miles reminisced.
Phoenix cocked his head. “Don’t diabetics have to take it every day?”
“What?” Miles said, popping out of his reminiscent haze, “Oh. Right. I just...I have the strongest memories of him doing it on Friday afternoons. I remember it quite clearly. The rest…”
He dropped his eyes down to his coffee, and gave it a weak stir. “Not so much.”
Phoenix squinted, but dropped the subject with a shrug.
-
Phoenix opened his wallet to pay, and one of Trucy’s panty liners fell out, onto the table, landing directly on Miles’ saucer.
They both stared at it.
Miles raised an eyebrow. “Is this what you are intending to pay with?” He joked, with the barest of smiles.
“Sorry about that,” Phoenix said sheepishly, picking up the panty liner and tucking it into his pocket, “I don’t need ‘em anymore, but sometimes Trucy rips open a new pack like some kind of wild animal and they end up strewn about the place. Sometimes I wish she would learn a trick to make them disappear.”
Miles’ smile warmed at the mention of Trucy.
“Not to worry,” he said, waving it away, “Although I myself never menstruated, I am familiar. I did grow up with Franziska, and we did share a bathroom.”
“Right,” Phoenix said.
“We even had a few of those liners in my childhood home, in the bottom of the bathroom sink’s drawer,” Miles noted.
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Phoenix said, although he didn’t really want to dwell on the nightmare of a breakthrough period.
Miles nodded briefly. “My father said that they were there in case of emergency. For guests, I assumed.”
“Huh,” Phoenix said, already thinking ahead to where he could stash a couple of liners in an emergency.
-
“I never knew my grandparents,” Miles confessed, “It was...just my father, and I.’
“Really?” Phoenix asked, intrigued. They had both finished their coffee already, but the conversation was still flowing too strongly for either of them to move.
“Well, I have-er-had, an aunt,” Miles said, “We would get her mail by mistake, on occasion. But I never met her. I only saw her name, on the misplaced mail sent to our home.”
“O-oh,” Phoenix said, trying to hide how much he was dying of curiosity, “Are your grandparents, uh, still-”
“Hm? I’m not sure if they are still living,” Miles explained, “My father was estranged from them. I never even learned their names.”
Wow. Relatable.
“Really?” Phoenix asked aloud.
“Yes. Again, I don’t know the details, “Miles said, “However much it infuriates me.”
“That kind of thing is...hard to explain, to a little kid,” Phoenix said sympathetically.
Miles balked at that.
“I was old enough to understand some things, he said, a bit miffed on behalf of his past self, “My father DID tell me that my grandparents existed, but he told me that they were not accepting people.”
He sighed.
“The night of the class trial, over dinner,” he said, “He told me that he received a phone call from the school, but he wanted to hear my testimonial first.”
Phoenix leaned in. He had never heard the perspective of Gregory Edgeworth about his class trial.
Miles cleared his throat.
“It was quite...nerve-wracking, to make my case, as my father stared me down as if I were truly a witness in court. But after I recounted the events, he told me that he was proud of me for staying true to myself, and my convictions,” Miles sighed, “He said that I should feel proud of myself as well.”
Phoenix couldn’t help but smile.
“It was an unusually emotional conversation, from him,” said Miles, “He told me that the pursuit of truth, and justice, can sometimes be a lonely path. He told me that his parents...sent him away, when he confronted them with the truth. But he told me that it was all worth it, in the end.”
Miles drooped his head, hair falling slightly forward.
“To this day I wonder what that truth was,” he muttered, “I never asked. I assume ideological differences of some kind. And now, I will never know.”
And again, this was relatable.
Too relatable.
“Miles-”
“Excuse me,” Miles said, standing up too quickly, yanking the handkerchief out of his pocket as he all but ran out of the door.
-
Phoenix pace around his living room, later that day. It was...really nice, to hear Miles reminisce about his childhood, and speak about his father that he clearly adored...but there was something really nagging in him, about some of the stories he had told.
I remember…Friday afternoons, when he would take his insulin via syringe.
Phoenix sighed, staring across the counter at his bottle of injectable testosterone.
We even had a few of those liners in my childhood home, in the bottom of the bathroom sink’s drawer…my father said that they were there in case of emergency.
He had put a few of Trucy’s panty liners under his bathroom sink, right after speaking to Miles. And it did give him peace of mind. But was that why Gregory had done it?
I only saw her name, on the misplaced mail.
Phoenix used to get mail under his deadname. All the time.
He told me that his parents…sent him away, when he confronted them with the truth.
There was no way.
Right?
But still…
Would it be disrespectful to pull on this thread?
Phoenix sighed. Next time he saw him...maybe he’d try to say something. Tactfully, of course.
-
The next time Phoenix met Miles for coffee, he was wide-eyed, pale, and shaking, to the point of his coffee sloshing inside of his cup when he picked it up for a sip.
Phoenix forgot all about his conundrum.
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward in concern.
Miles wrapped both his hands around his coffee cup, hugging it, hunched over into himself.
“I have learned something about my father posthumously that has shaken up my entire worldview,” he said, voice almost robotic, staring forward, “I do not wish to talk about it.”
He tried to take a sip of his coffee, but it sloshed out and spilled onto the table.
“Damn,” he muttered, scrubbing the table vigorously with his napkin.
Phoenix didn’t skip a beat. Perhaps he should have, perhaps he should have thought it through, then he wouldn’t have come out and just said-
“Was it that he was transgender?”
Miles clenched the napkin in his fist as he threw himself backward in shock.
“How-h-how did you-” he stuttered, eyes darting about.
“I had my suspicions,” Phoenix said, grimacing in apology, “I was just looking for the, uh. Right way to ask.”
Miles narrowed his eyes at him. “A-and you thought THAT was the right-”
“I know! I’m sorry,” Phoenix said, “But I just...I had to know, if your dad was like me.”
Miles paused, and looked up at Phoenix as if seeing him for the first time.
“Y’know,” Phoenix said, grinning, “A defense attorney.”
Miles looked taken off-guard by that, exhaling what could be a laugh.
“Cause if so...wow,” Phoenix continued, “What an honor, to be in the same category as Gregory Edgeworth.”
Miles blinked, and softened his gaze.
“You are in a unique position to understand,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” Phoenix chuckled, awkwardly, “I was kinda...finding your dad relatable.”
Miles huffed a real laugh at that.
“I trust you, Phoenix,” Miles said, as if he were marvelling at his own words, “I trust you.”
Phoenix’s heart skipped a beat.
“And I will tell you what I found out,” Miles said, “As long as you keep it between us. I do not wish posthumous transphobia on my father.”
Phoenix crossed his beating heart, like a child.
Miles took another sip of his coffee, with hands that had barely a tremor.
“Right. Well. It’s a bit of a long story,” he began, and Phoenix listened, rapt, to every word.