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The mini-fridge creaks open, Phoenix peering inside as if something new will appear. He bites his lip, looking at the contents that mirror the sadness of the space around him. Wright & Co-
“Wright Talent Agency,” he mutters under his breath to no one, correcting himself. “Sorry Truce.”
Wright ‘whatever it is now’ has seen better days. And honestly, the man finds himself more at the Borscht Bowl Club than he does at home anyways. Still, he’s still disappointed at the singular beer and half-rotted strawberry container in the fridge. He’s supposed to be a father. No wonder Trucy keeps so busy all the time. He’d do anything for her, but he wonders from time to time if she’d be better off if he just-
He shakes off the thought. What Trucy definitely doesn’t need is a pity party.
Phoenix sighs in resignation and grabs the beer can. Popping the lid open, he kicks the mini-fridge shut and walks over to his desk. Over the years, he’s gotten very good at ignoring the constantly nagging feeling that he used to be someone. Admittedly living in the space where he used to be that person wasn’t his best move, but what else could he do? He earns a living by scamming rich little shits out of daddy’s last paycheck. Not the most consistent nor respectable gig. But it keeps a certain someone off his ass about keeping up with payments.
The office is dead silent. It’s only 6:00 pm, but winter in LA treats daylight like its next exclusive trend. There only for a moment, and gone in the blink of an eye. The pitch black of the sky only fuels Phoenix’s desire to drink. He downs the can in a minute, quickly disappointed that it was the last one. He checks his calendar. Trucy’s rehearsal isn’t scheduled to end until 10:00 and he’s off work at the Club until tomorrow, so he has time to reward his depression with some ‘grape juice’ from the local 7-11.
Deciding that’s a good idea, Phoenix grabs his wallet and throws on his beanie before throwing the front door open and immediately running into someone.
Phoenix is already muttering some half-baked apology without looking at who had interrupted his amazing alone time. He was already annoyed, but looking up to see none other than the esteemed Miles Edgeworth standing in his doorway did little to ease his mind. Mainly because now he definitely wasn’t going to be allowed to wallow in self-pity and alcohol.
“Wright, I- I apologize to have shown up so unexpectedly. I tried texting you, but it appears you haven’t read them.”
Phoenix knows even if he did check his phone, it wouldn’t be out of character for him to flee the office knowing that Edgeworth was coming over. Seeing him these days was none other than torture. This was the same man who had climbed his way to success at age 20, who had traveled abroad to learn about court proceedings in other countries just to further his own studies about law and his passion about the truth. And although he never said anything to Phoenix about thinking him a disappointment, the disgraced lawyer knows that he’s fallen too far away from that life to even pretend he was once part of it. Edgeworth just reminds him of everything he’s lost… of who he’s lost.
It would be easier if he gave up on him. Then Phoenix wouldn’t have to think about a time where they were actually good friends. Or about a time where he entertained the thought that they could be more…
A painful, idiotic thought. Phoenix safely tucks it in the back of his mind where it belongs.
“What brings you out of your fancy office and all the way to my humble abode?” he asks.
It’s then that Phoenix looks down and sees that Miles- no, Edgeworth is holding a bottle of wine in his hand.
“I- er, wanted to celebrate with you,” Edgeworth says, looking away.
The air is heavy with tension. Phoenix would rather it was anyone else here. He’d rather not celebrate with Edgeworth because the other man should be celebrating with people who actually matter to him. Not his old friend out of charity.
But Phoenix has always had trouble saying no to the prosecutor and lets him in, willing a small smile to slip across his face. Even if he knows that Edgeworth will likely be a boring old man and not let Phoenix have any of the wine.
“What’s the occasion?” he asks.
Edgeworth shrugs ever so slightly. Phoenix goes over to the window to crack it open a little, letting in a breeze.
“I won my case today. It was one that took months of preparation. I am proud of the outcome to say the least,” Edgeworth says, looking for a surface to set his things down.
Phoenix gets to work clearing his desk and shoving it all in a box next to his shelves, including his magatama. “So why come celebrate with me? You should be out with important people, haha,” he laughs off his comment. It hurts him to say, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why celebrating such an accomplishment should be wasted on Phoenix of all people.
“I am.”
There was no hesitation in Edgeworth’s response. Phoenix freezes and turns to face him. He looks for a moment into those deep grey eyes, searching for the hidden meaning. He finds nothing. He used to be good at finding hidden things.
He watches as Edgeworth puts down the wine bottle. Then, Phoenix is surprised to see him pull out not one, but two glasses.
“I hope you don’t mind I brought wine for myself. And if some of it happens to disappear into a second glass, I’ll think nothing of it.” The grey-haired man smirks a little at the other.
Phoenix is stunned, it’s too much. “Edgeworth, you don’t have to-”
“Nonsense,” the prosecutor cuts him off as he often does, “It’s my celebration and I want you to enjoy it.”
A warm feeling forms inside the former defense attorney. It’s wrong. It doesn’t belong here. Phoenix reminds himself that Edgeworth is just showing him pity. Nothing more.
In an attempt to occupy his spiraling mind, he looks around desperately for a corkscrew. A throat clears behind him. Phoenix turns to see a corkscrew in Edgeworth’s hands.
“I had a suspicion you may not be able to find one in this mess you call a living space, so I took the liberty of buying you another.”
Phoenix’s brows furrow. “Excuse me? I’m not that pathetic.”
“Really? Then pray tell, Wright. Where is your corkscrew?”
Miles Edgeworth. He was always too damn smug. It drove Phoenix crazy. This stupid, overbearing, can’t-mind-his-own-business, persistent, handsome, intelligent, generous man. He sorts through piles and piles of stuff around the office, no bottle opener to be found. A realization strikes right then and there - he can’t live without Edgeworth. He doesn’t want to. As much as he hates the sight of him even now, Phoenix knows that the prosecutor understands him better than anyone else in the world. It brings him comfort. But it’s also terrifying.
Phoenix relents and sticks out his hand. Edgeworth gives him the corkscrew and Phoenix makes quick work of bottle. He pours a moderate amount into each glass, but knows one won’t be enough to talk to his old friend. He follows up by adding a not-so-healthy top off to his own glass. If Edgeworth has any opinions about this, he holds them back. Little mercies.
He starts the conversation the only way he knows how: “So, come here often?” He smirks in an attempt to be charming. Edgeworth’s dead stare in return leads Phoenix to drink half the glass in one go.
“Don’t be an idiot, Wright.”
It’s mean, but this makes Phoenix burst into laughter. It’s the kind of Edgeworth-mean with no real bite to it.
“I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person,” he responds.
The conversation after that falls into a comfortable and familiar back and forth. They talk about all sorts of things from Trucy, to the Steel Samurai, to Fransizka. Phoenix is on his second glass, finally feeling the buzz. Or maybe his third… he can’t remember anymore.
They’ve moved over near the windows by the time they’re talking about Edgeworth’s trigger happy sister.
“You believe she’s bad now? Guess who her target was when Von Karma first gifted her that whip,” Edgeworth groans.
Phoenix chuckles, “I can’t even imagine.”
“I lived in constant fear in my own home.”
“I can understand having to be Trucy’s test subject for any new magic tricks she learns,” Phoenix muses.
Edgeworth takes a sip of his wine, still on his first pour. “I beg your pardon, Miss Trucy can do no wrong.”
Phoenix smiles, “Objection! You haven’t been sawed in half by her!”
“Objection!” Miles returns, “You cannot blame the girl, I’ve wanted to saw you in half several times throughout the years.”
Phoenix can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard and freely. He missed this. A lot.
Without thinking, he says right after, “Ah, now I remember why I had such a crush on you back in our court days.”
The room falls still. Phoenix, realizing what he just admitted looks up to see a frozen Miles Edgeworth. The weight of what he said hits him like a wall, instantly sobering him up.
“No you didn’t,” is all the prosecutor says, eyes never leaving his glass of wine.
Swallowing the giant lump in his throat, Phoenix knows it’s too late to back out. He playfully lets the next words fall out of his mouth, “Of course I did.”
The prosecutor does not respond.
He tries to keep face, “Oh come on, you knew.” His hand squeezes around the stem of the glass whos contents have betrayed him more than he can say.
Edgeworth finally looks up at him, his face conveying an utter helplessness and ignorance. Frustration boils up. Phoenix can feel himself getting angrier. Edgeworth knew! He had to know! He knew and he didn’t reciprocate and that was fine! Phoenix accepted that a long time ago.
But if he didn’t know… does that mean there was a chance all this time…
No, because even if there was, Edgeworth stands before him now, unable to look him in the eyes after his confession.
“You knew,” Phoenix declares this time, demanding it to be true.
Yet again, the prosecutor says nothing.
This is what breaks him.
“Look, Edgeworth, what are you really doing here?!” Phoenix snaps.
Edgeworth is taken aback, “What? I-I told you, I’m here to celebrate-”
“I got that part. But why me? Seriously? You know I’m not actually a tax-free charity case, right?”
Phoenix doesn’t know why he says it. The instant look of hurt on his old friend’s face affirms that he shouldn’t have. It’s just his insecurities talking, and maybe the wine.
“Of all the cruel and absurd things to say! You are not some charity case, so stop this incorrigible self-pitying and grow up!” Edgeworth bites back.
Some deep down fucked up part of Phoenix was waiting for this to happen. He can always rely on his old friend for a good fight. He doesn’t mind fighting, it’s a safe feeling.
“Tell me, did you tell everyone back at the office about your pet former defense attorney? That you feed him every once and a while and then leave?” Phoenix doesn’t mean a damn word. But he wants to feel the clap back, the pain…
Instead, he sees something shine in those eyes hidden behind the glasses. Tears. Shit, that’s not what he meant to do.
“How could you…” Edgeworth sounds so hurt.
Phoenix tries to tell himself that this is what he wanted. That pushing him away is for the better.
But…
Suddenly Phoenix feels a wet trail slide down his own cheek. He’s crying too.
“Phoenix,” he says softly.
It pushes him over, the former defense attorney no longer able to cope. His unreturned confession, his lashing out, and his crush saying his name so gently…
“I, uh, forgot I need to pick up Trucy from her rehearsal. Stay as long as you need. Thank you for the wine.”
Phoenix looks up into Edgeworth’s untelling eyes one last time before fleeing their gaze as he sets his empty glass down and runs far away from the Wright Talent Agency and his problems.