enterlude: the end/beginning of it all.
28 June, 2018.
He woke the next morning next to empty bedsheets, cold and wrinkled and smelling tauntingly like Phoenix -- his fists clenched in the baby blue fabric as the memories of last night chased the last cobwebs out of his sleep addled brain. Part of him wanted to stay like that, curled into a guilt-ridden ball in their bed -- could he really still call it "their's," now?
Another part of him wanted to bolt out of bed and run down the stairs into the kitchen and into the living room and everywhere, to call out Phoenix's name and god how he hoped he was still there, how he hoped that for some ludicrous reason, Phoenix was still there, he didn't know what on earth he would do with himself if...
Another involuntary clench of his fists. He could feel the sheets, feather light and damp between his fingers. Feel, not see, since he could sense a stinging sensation behind his eyes and knew he couldn't dare open his them, he had no right to cry, no right at all, no right at all. The look his lover had given him before -- hurt, betrayed, angry, hurt -- flashed through his mind and for the umpteenth time Miles cursed himself and his stupidity, fighting the growing urge to risk it and bolt upright and not care whether or not he had the right to do anything because right now the most important thing was to find out, however painful it might be, whether or not Phoenix was still there.
Another clench. And another. He tried to screw his eyes shut, to not think, to try and run, run! That had always worked before! Goddammit, he's not here he's not here, don't fool yourself into thinking he might, there's no way --
At long last, Miles kicked the bedsheets up and away and staggered over to the closet, pulling on his weekend clothes -- he remembered how many times Phoenix had scoffed at his attire, claiming that Miles didn't need to dress too fancy when the only company they had was each other. He felt a choking sensation in the back of his throat and blinked rapidly before pushing the bedroom door open...
He took a single step into the hallway, a single, dreadful step -- the corridor was dark, foreboding, and everywhere he turned he saw Phoenix's face, that look pooling accusingly in his vision from every shadow, from around every corner...
Miles felt his feet drag as if weighed down by lead and he swallowed, forcing himself forward, to face the reality of what he'd done, oh god he couldn't do this --
A light. A smell. A combination that chased away the clawing shadows, their accusatory hands shrinking back under the shine of the bright glow and the warm smells fading up from the stairs...
He stopped dead.
Unbelievable, impossible -- he took another tentative sniff at the air, and his eyes widened as he realized that, yes, improbable as it seemed, impossible as it seemed, the lovely scent of sausage and eggs was wafting up from the kitchen. Their kichen. Their kitchen. Miles didn't think he'd ever smelled something so good in his entire life.
Miles nearly tripped over his own feet as he took the stairs two steps at the time, stumbling down from the dark hall upstairs into -- impossible, impossible, his mind kept shouting -- the brightly lit kitchen, as if this was any other morning and everything was normal and godammit he wondered whether he was dreaming, his mind finding a sick satisfaction in torturing it's host, or maybe Phoenix had decided to throttle him in his sleep. That was a thought.
But everything else fled, scampering from his head the instant his sleep-lidded eyes adjusted to the light and, yes, Phoenix was there, oh god he was there, he was still here -- standing in front of the stove in his royal purple Kings sweatshirt, muttering a curse as he nursed a burnt fingertip, eggs sizzling merrily on the frying pan he held tentatively at arm's length. Normal, crushingly normal. How many times before had be bandaged that finger of Phoenix's?
Dumbfounded, in denial, Miles stood there, just staring, wide-eyed as Phoenix – Phoenix, Phoenix -- sensed his presence and turned to face him...
It was that look again and for the millionth time he cursed himself, cursed himself over and over for thinking that things could even possibly be ok, be normal after all the whispered 'I'm sorry's' that had done nothing but make him sound like a shallow fool.
"Phoenix..."
The other man gave Miles a long, hard look before turning his attention back to more important things, eying the eggs to make sure he didn't burn them again, like he had the first time this morning, the remnants of this attempt sticking out haphazardly from the trash bin. Miles noticed how Phoenix's hands trembled ever so slightly as he clutched the grip of the pan, knuckles turning white and the prosecutor swallowed and felt that choking sensation creep up on him again...
He stood there looking like a fool, not knowing what to say, even if he could...
A few more minutes passed before Phoenix deemed the eggs to be cooked to his satisfaction, separating them into two plates, one for him and, somehow, one for Miles -- I should have offered to help, dammit -- and he continued to watch detatchedly as Phoenix then proceeded to take both plates over to the small wooden table in the center of the kitchen, his mouth set in a hard line.
Phoenix settled himself down, and then here was a barely noticeable nod in Miles' direction. He blinked and stared at Phoenix, who had moved on to giving rapt attention to the sausages he had separated onto their plates before Miles had come in. There was another nod, this time in the direction of the food Phoenix had placed opposite him, what Miles' presumed to be his breakfast, Miles's breakfast, Phoenix had made him breakfast, despite everything and shitfuck, that choking feeling returned.
He sat down opposite Phoenix, tentatively, afraid that the other might burst into tears at any second -- or punch him in the face, an option that Miles greatly preferred. He knew he deserved it, most of him hoped that Phoenix did do it, he knew it would make him, at least, feel better...
And there he goes again, only thinking of himself, dammit dammit dammit --
"Edgeworth."
The sudden use of his last name stung Miles as if Phoenix had reached over and hit him, although this cold, piercing word managed to hurt him more than any fist or sword could. Phoenix was looking at him now, beautiful blue eyes hard with a mixture of emotions -- anger and hurt and iron-strong determination that Miles had grown to so admire over the years -- and he could only barely bring himself to return Phoenix's gaze, words rolling and dying on his tongue as he thought of something, anything to say, desperately searching, finding nothing...
"...what are we going to do?"
The words were out of his mouth before it even registered that he'd said them and he mentally slapped himself -- he'd never been the most socially adept of people but god, couldn't he think of something a little more...comforting? Helpful?
Phoenix just gave him a deadpan look. "Well, what do you think we should do?" was Phoenix's response, his clipped, even monotone scaring Miles more than if the other had shouted oh god oh god--
"I...I imagine you wouldn't want to be anywhere near me after what I told you last night--"
Phoenix raised an eyebrow.
"--but I also think we could..." Miles swallowed, fighting to keep his words going, "...talk. Talk about it."
A hanging silence. Suffocating, pressing around him on all sides, he felt as if he was back in that elevator sixteen years ago, choking, fighting for air--
"What's there to talk about, Edgeworth?" Phoenix interlaced his hands and leaned his elbows on the table, bowing his head and sighing. "I thought you made it pretty clear last night. I can't trust you."
Well. Mile knew this was true, of course, but that didn't change the fact that those words might as well have manifested and punched him straight in the stomach.
The breakfast Phoenix made him continued to cool as it lay untouched in front of him.
"Phoenix--"
"Edgeworth." The other man cut him off, giving Miles a look that made whatever the prosecutor was going to say die in his throat. "I know you well enough to know that you know that what you did was wrong. I know you're not going to deny it. I know, Edgeworth, I'm not done yet!" He snapped, as Miles had opened his mouth again to try and interject. "But just because you know and I know that what you did was wrong doesn't change the the fact that it happened. And, well. I can't trust you."
There was another period of silence, heavy and awkward.
"...what do you want me to say, then?" He somehow managed to choke out, marveling at how his voice remained somewhat steady whilst every other part of him was spinning out of control. Those words from before repeated over and over in his head like some kind of sick mantra, sad and cold and brutally honest, a sound that brought that familiar choking feeling back to full force; he had caused that noise, those words, him, Miles Edgeworth...
Him, no one else. It was all his fault, all of it, dammit all to hell he could never do anything right--
So caught up was he in his own cesspool of guilt and self pity that Miles almost missed Phoenix's tart reply. "Honestly, I don't think there's anything you can say at this point in time, Edgeworth. Nothing at all."
"...I don't want to loose you, Phoenix." He could barely hear his own voice, it was so quiet, so desperate -- he hated himself for sounding so pitiful, but god, he was going to loose him, he didn't know if he could take it, he couldn't why did he think he could even try, he had no fucking right, none at all. But he had always been a selfish coward, he knew. So unlike Phoenix.
The other attorney gave him a cold look that turned his blood to ice and muttered, "Well, you should have thought about that sooner, huh?"
Miles clenched his fists into the soft fabric of his pants as the other stood up and walked over to the window, the birds' morning songs cut off abruptly as Phoenix slammed the window shut with a surprising amount of force. An ominous silence hung in the air as Miles stood up as well, noticing that Phoenix was shaking, oh so slightly, barely noticeable. Shivering with a feeling Miles couldn't identify, that he didn't want to identify because god he looked so hurt, all because of him. Miles Edgeworth.
"Phoenix--"
"Miles!" the other snapped, his nails grinding painfully into the countertop as he clutched at it for support, his back towards Miles as he leaned over the sink, looking as if he was about to be sick. "I can't...I don't want to talk to you. Not right now. Not like this. It'll only make things worse."
Miles hovered by the table, uncertain, doubting that the situation really could get any worse, struggling against the surging impulse to scoop Phoenix up in his arms, comforting him until his trembling stopped and that look left his eyes...but he had no right to do anything like that, and he highly doubted Phoenix would let him in the first place.
But he couldn't just stand there --
A cheery, lively tune drifted in from the next room, along with a faint, distinctive sound that could only be made by something vibrating against a wooden tabletop...
Both men jerked up at the sound -- both of them recognized the tell-tale Steel Samurai ringtone.
"...Phoenix?"
The phone continued to ring and Phoenix just stood there, staring out the door and into living room, his eyes windows to some kind of battle he appeared to be fighting within his head.
A deep. shuddering breath. The insistent ringing finally ceased, and all was quiet again.
...and then, before either man could do a thing, the jingle restarted again.
Maya was quite well known for her tenacity.
Another controlled breath from Phoenix. He seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion. Another breath, then a whispered word, so quiet Edgeworth barely heard it...
"Out."
Miles blinked. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as the Steel Samurai ringtone quieted down again, only to resume moments later, just as it did before. He tore his eyes away from the door to stare at Phoenix, who was giving him a shadowed look he couldn't decipher, even with all his skill at Phoenix-deciphering. "What...?"
"You heard me. Out. I want you out of here. Now."
No no no no no -- "Phoenix--"
"Shut up, Edgeworth!" Miles flinched as a loud bang reverberated throughout the kitchen, Phoenix's fist shaking from the spot where it made contact with the table, those ocean blue eyes drilling into him, eyes that he had once claimed were one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen...he still stood by that claim, even if, at this time, they were absolutely terrifying.
It was his turn to try and control his breathing. In, out, in, out. "...if that's what you want." He took a step away from the table, towards the door, dragging his eyes away from Phoenix's, fearing that his head might explode if exposed to that drilling look any longer. In, out, in, out. "I-I...I understand. I'll... leave."
In and out, and in again, waiting a response, hovering at the kitchen door --
"Good."
Phoenix lead him to the front door, as if he couldn't find his own way there -- the two-story condo had, once upon a happier time, been both of their homes. Phoenix had relished in being able to move out of his cramped twelfth floor apartment and Miles had just been happy to be living with Phoenix, not caring that the he was used to living in a much larger complex.
That choking feeling again...
He dragged his feet over the landing, stepping out into the humid June air, a heavy morning wind tossing his bangs every which way. Normally, he would be annoyed at the damage to his perfectly groomed hairstyle, but at the moment, he could honestly care less.
He turned, slowly, gray eyes meeting deep blue for the third time this morning, a slew of words and phrases and actions bantering around in Miles' head -- this couldn't be happening, it would have been better if Phoenix had just left, this...this disownment was worse than anything he had fretted about last night as he had laid awake, listening to Phoenix's fitful sleep far across the bed...
There was nothing left. Nothing at all.
By now, he had lost count of the number of times he had screwed up in his lifetime. It was quite a list.
"...this is goodbye, then."
Phoenix's soft words were like knives slicing into his chest, tickling his heart with their glittering blades and making it lurch with unparallelled despair. "I'm sorry." How many times had he tried that, now?
"You've said that already."
"I know. But I am. I'm so, so sorry."
Phoenix raised an eyebrow at the man on his doorstep, that look returning to his eyes as he stared down at Miles, unmoving. "...I wish this hadn't happened. I trusted you, Miles. I trusted you with everything."
Everything...
Miles felt his throat close as he heard those words. Trust, trust, it all came down to trust...the man who had sent him a letter every single day for fifteen years, the man who had believed in him when he hadn't even believed in himself, the man who had brought so much good into his life, whom he loved with ever fiber of his being...
Such a pure person, and he betrayed him.
He lost the trust of the man who always trusted people, no matter what...
Miles didn't think he'd ever regretted anything as much as he did right now, at this moment, reaching out instinctively to clutch at Phoenix's hand...
"I love you."
He looked at Phoenix as he said this, his voice strong, steady, more than it had been the entire morning. He meant it, he really did, even if it didn't mean anything now, he loved Phoenix so much, so much, so damn much, he didn't care if it was too late, it didn't matter if he sounded pathetic and needy but he needed Phoenix to know, even if the other didn't believe him, even if Phoenix was disgusted by his touch.
He felt Phoenix's hand jerk away from his, saw his own choking sadness mirrored in those sapphire eyes, his own regret, his own love--
"Well, you sure have an odd way of showing it."
Miles didn't know what hurt more -- the sound of the door slamming shut in his face, or the muffled sobs that were barely audible from the other side.
tbc!
Note: Pay close attention whenever I mention dates. The chapters won't be in chronological order because being confusing makes me feel intelligent. ~