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BANG!
Miles fucking ran out of his kitchen and into the living room.
Phoenix was sitting on his couch, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.
Instantly, he feared the worst.
“What happened, are you alright?” Miles barked sharply, racing up to him and searching for signs of injury, “Phoenix!”
Phoenix just began to cry harder, and Miles shrank back. Fuck. Of course he hadn’t been shot! A wound like that wouldn’t leave him crying, it would leave him bleeding, dead instantly, if it were in the head like that.
Miles, you are so stupid sometimes.
He carefully sat on the opposite side of the couch, giving Phoenix some space. He felt the ugly guilt of misreading, and misreacting to the situation.
“I’m sorry,” Phoenix was mumbling between hiccuping sobs, “I’m sorry.”
Wait. He’s sorry?
Miles surveyed the room.
Everything seemed to be in order, except for-
Oh.
The textbook Phoenix had been reading was across the room, spine splayed, as if it had been thrown.
Oh.
He cast a glance, askance, at Phoenix, who was still shaking with sobs, mouth twisted up in a grimace.
“I’m the one who is sorry,” Miles said, loud enough to be heard, “I thought you were injured. I shouldn’t have yelled, in my panic.”
Phoenix looked up in surprise, and what an awful picture he painted. His eyes so red, face puffy, staring up with the most wretched, leaky grimace.
Miles didn’t even think about it. He just crossed the couch and sat beside him.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he asked, in the gentle tone he should have used in the first place.
Phoenix sniffled, and sobbed, and even when he seemed to be in control again...he didn’t speak up.
Miles reached out, and put a hand warmly on his knee.
They both looked down at it.
Miles drew it back as quickly as he could. Another embarrassment, to add to today’s list.
But Phoenix actually cleared his throat, and spoke up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice stronger, “I shouldn’t have done that. Not here. Not to your book.”
Miles blinked, but before he could speak up-
“I just couldn’t stand it anymore,” Phoenix confessed.
Miles sighed.
“It is quite a lot of information, if you need a break from it all-”
“No, no, no!” Phoenix said, clutching his head again.
Miles’ heart dropped, but Phoenix kept speaking.
“It’s not that, it’s-it’s familiar, and that’s the problem, with everything I rediscover I keep thinking about the first time I did this, and I’m not there anymore, and I’m not HIM anymore, and I don’t even WANT to be-”
He froze in horror, covering his mouth, looking up at Miles like a child in trouble.
“You don’t want to do this anymore?” Miles asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Phoenix’s eyes filled up, and he broke down in fresh tears in lieu of an answer, head sinking down back into his hands.
It was a risky move. Miles’ hand reached out tentatively, and gently alighted on the back of Phoenix’s grey hoodie.
But Phoenix tilted towards him, just a bit, so Miles pressed his hand stronger, rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles into his back as the man in front of him downright wailed.
Miles would like to think that he was handling the situation well, for how abruptly upsetting it was. He had never heard Phoenix sound like this before. Hyperventilation, broken by coughing sobs and cries, it was absolutely heartwrenching to experience, and he worked hard to keep his own eyes from tearing up. He just kept his palm where it was, sliding across the man’s back, shoulderblade to shoulderblade and back again, and let Phoenix run through his awful experience of emotional distress.
“I don’t want to take the bar again,” Phoenix finally whispered, voice hoarse, “I-I-I know that’s what I’m training for, and you’ve been helping me, so much, but-”
He covered his eyes, as if he couldn’t bring himself to even look at Miles.
“I don’t want to do it anymore,” Phoenix admitted, the grief palpably pouring out of him at the admission, “I...I don’t want to p-practice law.”
Miles could tell how much this admission was tearing him up inside. There was that child again, the child in trouble, wiping his soaking wet face over and over and being unable to clear all the tears.
“Then don’t,” Miles said simply.
Phoenix stopped crying in shock. He looked up at Miles in some amount of awe, in some amount of confusion.
“What?”
“You don’t have to,” Miles shrugged, keeping his hand on Phoenix’s back, “You really...really don’t.”
“B-but-but,” Phoenix stuttered, “B-but the training-”
“The training comes FROM the desire to become a lawyer, does it not?” Miles reminded, “If you do not desire it...then you should not do it. Plenty of people on earth never become a lawyer.”
“Miles…”
“I have, uhm. I have had a suspicion, for some time, that doing this is hurting your mental health,” Miles said, trying to keep his gentle tone, “I do not wish to sound, ahem. Callous, but...you aren’t out of the woods of your ordeal, just yet.”
Phoenix didn’t react, he just sniffled a few more times.
“I have complete belief in your ability to complete the task of passing the bar a second time,” Miles said quickly, “But...at what cost? What are you trying to gain, Wright, if you have no desire to practice law at this moment?”
“I have to,” Phoenix insisted stubbornly, eyes glazed with tears, “Who am I, even, if not a defense attorney?”
He gripped his own thighs, hands curling into fists around the material of his pants.
Miles slid his hand off of Phoenix’s back, and took another risk.
He placed his hand on top of the fist, encouraging it to loosen under his touch. He slid his fingers under the palm and gripped it with as much comfort as he could muster.
“You’re Phoenix Wright,” he said, reassuringly and truthfully, “You were Phoenix Wright before you became a lawyer, and you will still be him if you never practice law again.”
He looked sideways at Phoenix, who was staring at their connected hands.
“Unless you’re aiming for another name change, of course.”
Phoenix shook his head. “Those days are behind me, now.”
He took a few deep breaths, and used his free sleeve to wipe his eyes one last time.
“So I can stop?” he asked, sniffling, looking up at Miles with just his eyes.
“You don’t need my permission,” Miles replied.
“Can you just tell me?” Phoenix all but begged, lip wobbling again.
“Then yes,” Miles said, “You can stop. And we can use this time for social visits. Or other job applications. Whatever you like.”
Phoenix screwed his eyes shut, and launched himself into Miles’ arms, crying hard into his chest, throwing his arms around Miles’ torso.
Miles could do nothing but hold him tight as the sobs wracked through his poor body once again, his cries and wails tinged with equal parts grief and relief.
Miles was familiar with both. And so he would sit, and weather this storm, for as long as he must.
Phoenix MUST not be alone, in this. He would make sure of that.