(HAI GAIZ I ARE WRITING FOR PHOENIX WRIGHT YAY.

Uh-huh. I love the series, (beaten one and two, working on case 2 of three because ARGH FUCK IT I DO NOT CARE ABOUT MASQUE DEMASQUE FUCK YOU), so yeah.

It took me awhile to like this pairing. I really can blame Zarla for this; she's an artist on dA, who's written a TON of Matt/Juan that I just...it GREW on me. :D Also, mentions Adrian/Franzy, which also grew on me.

Man, I'm gonna have to write Manfred/Gregory soon too. Fucking...crack...argh.

I KNOW THERE WAS NO NEED TO WRITE IT IN BLOOD IF HE HAD PAPER! Let's just say that um, it would've ruined the letter to Adrian. Yeah. It was an awesome idea, I ran with it shutup. D:

Right, so since I beat JFA like three months ago, I might've gotten a few details wrong, but hey, I'm already fucking with canon so big deal. I also wrote this to try to get over my writer's block and back into the habit of writing. It's a slow process. I hope you enjoy this, and remember I don't own Phoenix Wright. If I did, everyone would be gay. EVERYONE. 8D

Ohright! Rape mentioned, so like...HIGH T rating. Turn back now if you're squeamish, I'm not changing it, it's not that graphic.)

It wasn't always like this.

Once, they were so happy. They were...

Friends. Rivals, but there had been no anger, nor any real competitiveness, just a quiet facade to hide the fact from the public that they were

/Lovers?/

Yes.

Matt had always been so gentle and perfect before it happened. He was Juan's refreshing little spring breeze, and back then, he hadn't grown out his hair. He hadn't needed to.

/Secrets/

They had no secrets from each other, but they had many secrets from the public. How would it go over if two rising stars were gay, filthy faggots on a kid's show of all things?

/But secrets get out/

"Oh, Juan..." Matt sighed, leaning his head against his chest. "I love you." Juan nodded, and cradled him, stroking his hair and shaking his head.

"We'll have to say something someday, Matt." He patiently reminded his little lover. Matt sighed.

"I know. But let's just wait awhile, okay? I want to have enough money that we can quit this if we need to and go run away from everyone." He smiled, and traced little circles across Juan's chest. "Maybe we could run away to Puerto Rico, like where you lived." Juan playfully shoved him, and smiled.

"Only if you go, and we all know how bad you burn." Matt squeaked, and brought him close, kissing him tenderly, inviting him in.

It was their last happy night alive.

Apparently, no one had shut the blinds, or maybe the bellhop sold the story, it didn't matter.

It was all over the news. "CORRIDA AND ENGARDE SECRET LOVERS," the news trumpeted like dying swans, "POSSIBLE 'THIRD WOMAN' INVOLVED."

That woman was Celeste Trent, Matt's former girlfriend and Juan's manager.

"THERE WAS NO THIRD WOMAN!" Juan shrieked, tossing papers out the window. "FUCKERS!" Matt lay on the couch, cuddled in a blanket, watching silently as Juan raged and shrieked his way across their apartment, not wanting to yell. He didn't know what to say if he could scream, and wasn't sure if he could speak anyways.

Juan looked at him. "Matty, it'll be alright. I love you, Matt, and I won't let anything happen to you." Matt looked up at him, the first strands of hair that would become the forelock that hid so much falling in his face.

"Y'mean it?" Juan smiled, and took his head in his hands.

"I mean it with all my heart. I promise, Matt."

/Juan lied./

Matt had known Juan had told him to lay low after the scandal. No one was exactly thrilled the two of them were gay--and with each other? Preposterous! And of course, since it was a 'kid's show' (which Matt privately thought was bullshit, considering the amount of adult fans he'd met), the sin and blasphemy of true love was all the more terrible, horrible, and worse.

Gotta protect those kids, yanno.

Lost in his thought, Matt didn't register the group of men until one of them slammed his head against a wall.

"My kid watches your show." One of them spat. "Fuckin' faggot." Matt didn't scream, didn't have time before the second one knocked him to the ground. He struggled to stand, found the other had held his legs down. Suddenly, roughly, they flipped him over.

/Oh god no please please I'll do anything just don't let them/

"Faggot," the leader purred, "do you like this, nancy boy prick?" Matt fought, but they were strong, stronger than he was, and just why...

"JUAN!" He screamed. "JUAN! HELP ME, JUAN!" The leader slammed his head, and Matt gasped, as he fastened his hands around his throat.

"Shut up." The leader ordered, as the other two yanked his pants down and he was so cold in the night air...

/Refreshing as a spring breeze.../ Matt sobbed once, "Juan...help me...you promised..." Before there was a sharp, tearing pain and slick blood gushed down his legs. They'd torn him open with a knife.

"I heard you fags need stretching out." The man explained, as Matt sobbed. There was more pain, and the feeling of someone not Juan thrusting in, and he screamed and scrabbled to get away, but they still held his legs down and the rhythm he thrust in made Matt want to vomit...He did, and the man swore. "Fuck!" He screamed, pulling out. Matt felt sweet relief until one more slammed into him, and now the other was bending over him with the bloody knife and there was pain on his face and eye and he was screaming.

"JUAN!" He screamed, screaming and screaming until there was a weird slime coating his insides and the men ran away as the cops came...

He was still screaming as they brought him to the hospital, screaming a wordless scream of pain, rage, and betrayal...the kind which there is not words for.

Juan had been in a press conference when he'd heard, and came running. The guilt slowed his movement, but he still slammed through the hospital doors, demanded to see Matt, and the doctors were so cowed by his rage that they couldn't say no.

"MATT!" He roared, rushing down the hallway, red guitar thumping against his back

/red like blood/

He opened the door, and there his lover lay, scars like thin brown lines across his face. They'd put stitches in; it looked like a little angry black caterpillar had crawled up his face.

/One two three scars.../

Juan clasped his hand. "Matt? Matty, please. It's me, baby. Come on, wake up, wake up, wake up..." He was bawling hysterically, as Matt opened his one good eye.

"Juan." He spoke softly, devoid of emotion. Juan didn't look up as he spoke.

"Matt, I didn't know, I didn't know you were gone, I'm sorry I...did they do anything besides..." Matt laughed coldly, cruelly. Juan flinched, hearing such a sound from his sweet little baby...

"Yeah, Juan. They tore my asshole to shreds with a knife and then they fucked the remains. And where were you when this happened?" Juan felt his stomach clench, and he retched, as Matt slapped his hands away.

"Fucking press confrence. 'Cause I meant less to you than show business, eh? Jammin' Ninja comes before your own boyfriend?" Juan shook his head.

"N-no, Matt, I thought you were staying in the house like we had agreed...Matt, please, I didn't know."

Matt laughed. "Right, easy for you to say. D'ya think I'll ever get back in showbiz after this? I don't. Look at me, I look like some sort of freak." Juan shook his head.

"No! You're still beautiful! You'll always be beautiful to...me...please, Matt...I'm sorry, just let me in. Forgive me, please?"

Matt turned to him, and spoke.

"Fuck you." He said emotionlessly. "Just fuck you."

Juan stood. He took one last look at Matt, to see if there was any love left, the love that he didn't deserve, shining in his eyes.

There was none.

He turned and walked out of the room, out of Matt's life.

Matt had fallen asleep. Juan had waited outside, for this one last chance. Just one last chance, was all he asked...

He crept back in. The forelock had flopped over, not as large or thick as it would eventually become, but enough to hide most of the scars. He pushed it back. Matt looked so peaceful, so free from pain...so much like he always had.

Except for those scars.

Juan kissed each scar, once, twice, three times. Once for each scar.

And then he left a perfect, lingering kiss on Matt's lips.

/I had my chance./ Juan thought to himself as he walked out the door. /I had my chance. Now.../

He sighed.

The story eventually blew over, considering neither would talk about it. They both...moved on.

Juan took up with Celeste, Matt's old girlfriend, only because he could see Matt in her eyes, occasionally, if he looked. He wasn't really in love with her. She never did understand why, every time they made love, he turned the lights off.

It was simple; in the dark, he could pretend it was Matt clenching his back, Matt underneath him gasping and moaning, Matt screaming in mid-orgasm bliss...

She asked him to marry her. He agreed, in an attempt to move on...

But it was too late. She'd committed suicide, after Matt told her everything.

Some might say he'd lied, if they knew the WHY Celeste had killed herself.

Juan wouldn't.

All Matt had to tell her was the truth.

They rarely saw each other anymore, and Juan liked it like that. It was much easier when he only had to cry himself to sleep once every other month or so.

It was the annual Heroes Grand Prix. He'd won last year, saw Matt there. It had ruined the victory for him. He'd gone to his hotel room and smashed everything, screaming Matt's name over and over. His guitar was in shambles, the red pieces on the carpet further motivating him to destroy.

The hotel dismissed it as a fever of after-win glory. Adrian, who had some inkling of what had happened, (having been told many things by Celeste, including the scandal), knew better. She came to comfort him. All he could say was,

"There are no second chances. I deserve what I get."

Adrian let him be.

A year passed. It was time for the Heroes Grand Prix.

This year, Matt won. Juan didn't mind. He'd had a plan...

He was going to call a press conference. And he was going to speak about what had really happened during their relationship, and beg Matt to take him back. He knew his chances were up, but he had to try.

Even the phoenix only rises from the ashes once. Juan didn't care.

He went back to his hotel room. The bellhop stood there, the one with the scar down his face. Juan hated looking at him, because of the stitches. The same angry caterpillars that had once crawled across Matt's face.

"Hello." He greeted him cordially. "I'm here to kill you." Juan stared. Then he began to laugh dryly.

"I see. Tell me...did Matt Engarde send you?" The man's eyes widened.

"Excuse me? H-how did you..." Juan smiled, and sat down in the chair, tilting his head back so his neck and chest were exposed.

"I should have known." He laughed again. "There are no second chances." The man stared at him. Juan looked at him and spoke.

"Hey, bellhop? Can you tell him something from me?" The man blinked, but nodded.

"I suppose." Juan closed his eyes--then smiled.

"Tell him I forgive him. And that I still love him. And I always will." The man closed his eyes as well, smiling.

"It's been a pleasure." Juan said. The bellhop smiled.

"Killer," he said, as he wound the cord around Juan's neck, "Shelly de Killer."

As Juan faded to black, he was filled only with relief.

It was only a matter of time before Matt followed him here.

Matt watched de Killer walk back into his house. "Well, Shelly?" Matt asked. "Is...is he dead...?"

Shelly saw a flash of tears in Matt's eyes. But he would not speak of it. He would only give his message.

"Yes. He had a message for you." Matt snorted.

"What'd he say?" Shelly closed his eyes, and smirked.

/I doubt you'll want to hear it./

"He said...tell him I forgive him. And that I still love him. And I always will."

Matt stared at him for a second.

Then the tears began to pour. De Killer smiled vaguely. Regret. Perhaps it had been a good thing that he'd died--pity it took that extreme to get Matt to see his error.

"GET OUT!" Matt roared, throwing a pillow at him. De Killer ., and walked out. He was not a cruel man. He would let Matt grieve. But not without parting words.

"There are no second chances, Matt Engarde."

An anguished scream greeted him. It rang in de Killer's ears, and he knew it would be a long time before he forgot the hopelessness in that scream.

Perhaps it would've been better if Juan had hated him. Then he might not have said anything to that Wright lawyer, not shown his scars, not gotten himself in prison. But...he needed to earn Juan's forgiveness.

"Love you, dude." He whispered softly, tracing the wall of his cell. There was still an hour before they'd take him to prison. He...still had time.

"I forgive you too, Juan!" He cried. "I'm sorry for leaving you! Sorry for everything!" He smiled, and took the thin razorblade he'd kept in his shoe they'd never thought to take out. He didn't slit his wrists. Too cliche.

He slit up his thighs, right where the veins were. He suddenly remembered something, and scrawled, "FEED SHOE PLEASE" on the wall in blood. He didn't want his kitty to starve, after all.

Message left behind, as he slowly began to bleed out, he took out the pen and paper from his jacket, and began to write. The whole story. He didn't care who published it, but someone...someone needed to know the truth.

He paused. He addressed it, "To Adrian," and as he surrended to the dark, he felt the paper flutter down from the table on to the floor.

"Juan..." He closed his eyes. "Love you, dude..."

A spring breeze came in from the bars on the window, and ruffled his hair, pushing it away from his scars.

The last spring breeze in Matt Engarde's life.

Adrian clutched the letter as they took the body away. Fransizka von Karma came up behind her, and patted her shoulder. "Honey?" She whispered. "It's okay. You don't have to read it." Adrian shivered, and leaned close to her.

"No." She whispered. "Because...someone has to know the truth. Someone needs to teach the world the lesson those boys learned the hard way..." She breathed out a small sigh.

"There are no second chances."

Juan strummed his guitar, waiting in the park. There were parks in the afterlife, apparently. And he'd left a trail, because Matt would probably get lost if he didn't.

"Dude. The neon sign saying "JUAN CORRIDA IS HERE" was not necessary." Juan clenched the guitar, not wanting to turn around because he just couldn't ruin the moment.

"I heard what you said." He said, back still turned to Matt. He heard a small gasp. He smiled. "It's okay, Matt."

And then he dared himself to look. He turned, and stared at his sweet little Matt.

His eyes were shining with that love again. His knees buckled, and he collapsed into Matt's arms. His boy laughed, and wrapped them tight around him, pulling him close. "Love you, dude." He murmured. "I just...I didn't mean..." Juan shook his head, and stroked Matt's hair, whispering softly for him to hush.

"You could get rid of the scars. This IS the afterlife, after all." Matt snorted.

"I need to keep them. For remembrance. As a reminder." Juan could only nod.

It was peaceful. So sweet and peaceful.

"I thought...I thought there were no second chances." Matt whispered. "I thought I'd lost you forever." Juan laughed, and pulled Matt away, down the long winding path leading to wherever they wanted to go.

"This is the afterlife," he said.

"Here, there's always a second chance."