"Wright, you cannot be serious about this. I have never considering you having these types of feelings for me. I do hope this isn't some sort of trick Larry put you up to." He eyed Phoenix questionably, watching intently for any sign of this being an act. It was possible he was imagining it, but Phoenix did not look like he was joking. The slumped posture--even more than usual--and the eyes looking everywhere but him. They appeared to be moist. Appeared. Which meant that it could still be his imagination, but each second of silence was rising the doubt meter another notch. "Wright?" He said the name softly, as if afraid of hurting his friend albeit rival.
"I'm sorry, Edgeworth," came the small answer as Phoenix stepped forward, closer to him. Phoenix's cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment of everything that had happened and it took more courage than he would admit to give Edgeworth any kind of a response, for it was all too obvious the prosecutor could never share the feelings he had. However, he would no longer deny them and he had made the resolution to inform Edgeworth, lest he do something rash that he might regret, and that Edgeworth might as well. His head rose to make a final statement. "I love you."
That was what set it off. Not only the knowledge that Phoenix was truly in love with him, but that he really was affected that strongly. Why did he have to be such an open book? Once glance would tell you the way he was waiting to take the blow of rejection and that he would try to take it gracefully, but most likely end up crying beside his bike for a few hours. How unbearable it was to see that unveil with your own eyes, or to know full well what's going on. He could not allow his friend to carry on in that manner. It wasn't doing any good to either of them.
"Wright," he sighed, laying his hands on both sides of Phoenix's cheeks. They were wet, he noticed with a surge of renewed realization. "Wright, look at me." He waited patiently until the attorney's eyes met his painfully, fresh tears bulging from them. A whisper of a smile was placed on Edgeworth's lips and remained as they opened to speak. "I love you."
Phoenix's eyes widened in both astonishment and disbelieving, but Edgeworth's firm gaze didn't falter for a second, nor did his hands stray from their spot, awaiting a reaction from him. A single teardrop fell from each eye, his fingers wrapping around yet unmoving wrists. He couldn't believe he went there looking like a fool and what he got out of it was the last thing he had been expecting. His cheeks lit up under Edgeworth's hands as he thought about going for a kiss. And Edgeworth appeared to have a telepathic link with him, because in the next moments their lips were connected and didn't look to be separating anytime soon.
Later that evening, Phoenix went home to an energetic (as always) Maya who was asking him questions about what she'd forced out of him earlier that day. That was one of the few moments where she showed actual compassion for him rather than silliness, despite the both of them knowing they cared for eachother. But he didn't mind her personality in the least. She was his best friend. Needless to say, she pulled him into an overly joyful embrace and refused to let go until he offered her a meal. As she surely would, she agreed.
Later that evening, Edgeworth sat in his home office. His paperwork was scattered over his desk, his elbows on the table and his face buried into his hands. They slid up and down, the way he did whenever he was plainly that stressed. He didn't feel like he could ever get over what he had done. Not only had he compromised Phoenix's feelings, but also their friendship, the one that had somehow held up enough over the years for them to be able to put effort into continuing. He'd tried to learn how to properly reflect his appreciation and how to 'hang out' like other people did. But he'd ruined it. He let his hands fall for a minute and then grabbed one of his pens and a small peice of paper. The pen grazed over the paper smoothly with his ever perfect handwriting. Once he was done, he folded it and left it on the edge of his desk.
It was the next day that Phoenix couldn't force himself a longer wait and he went to visit Edgeworth. After the drama of the day before, they could finally just have fun, as much fun as a wet blanket like Edgeworth could have. He snicked at the thought and knocked on the door. When his fist made contact with the door, it squeaked open. "Edgeworth?" he shouted. There was no answer. He went further into the house, first into the first bedroom he could find, which definitely belonged to the one he was looking for, but that person did not happen to be in it. Knowing the little workaholic as well as he did, he next thought to try the office. It wasn't hard to find, but within it was not what he wanted either. His gaze caught onto a piece of paper that had his name written on the top in red ink. It was a familiar situation, Edgeworth and his notes. The message it contained was short and sweet, exactly the way Edgeworth liked to keep things.
I don't love you.