trace (vestiges)
Breakfast is absolutely delicious. He is normally not a fan of eating such heavy meals, but there is something to be said about clinking his teacup against Phoenix's mug, sharing a silent, comfortable toast to the new day as sunlight illuminates the dining room. He laughs as Phoenix enjoys the meal with gusto, his eyes still sparkling in amazement and curiosity as he looks over the details of Miles' home. No longer is Miles uncomfortable with Phoenix seeing the excessive nature of his home, for this man before him only wants to learn more, not mock.
He has always been okay with Miles, his idiosyncrasies and all. The very thought causes a rift to open up in Miles' heart, two opposing thoughts clashing painfully, the one detractor from the most ideal morning-after he could have ever imagined. On one hand, he is gloriously thankful, for Phoenix Wright is here- and if the way his eyes linger on Miles' face, his hands, his mouth with that soft bliss in his gaze is anything to go by, Phoenix does not plan to ever leave this space by Miles' side which has always truly belonged to him.
On the other hand, however, Miles cannot help but feel irritation towards himself. How long has he been trapped within his own head about this complex of theirs, shared and yet lingering upon opposing ends of the spectrum? How long has he been mindful of his wealth, his status- fearful that Phoenix would judge him, would persecute him, for living in lavish luxury when Phoenix has literally never been able to afford to do the same?
…how much time with Phoenix has already been lost because he has been so focused upon his own scars, his own suffering, his own-
Then, Miles sees it. The sunlight streaming in through the large windows does wonders to highlight Phoenix's still-bare chest; it is embarrassing to note just how many bruises have been left around his neck and shoulders, standing out starkly against his skin. It is even worse for Miles' dignity to be able to recognize, to name, that rush of heat which swells up in him as he finds himself thinking about how much he would enjoy leaving more marks upon Phoenix's defined chest- the thought of the attorney entering the courtroom with Miles' touch engrained into his skin under that blue suit of his makes the prosecutor want to curl up in a ball from the shameful, wanton desire the image instills.
However, accompanying those bruises left as cold proof of the previous night's development is something Miles had not been expecting. The marks had blended into Phoenix's warm skin the night before, his lips and touch distracting enough so that Miles hadn't noticed. In broad daylight, however, he can see it clearly- two dark, painful-looking scars on his chest above his heart.
He does not realize that his fingers have reached out, that he is already tracing that sunken scar tissue by the time the words leave his lips. "Wright, what happened here?" he breathes, utterly taken by these wounds.
To his immediate discomfort, Phoenix grows slightly pale, trepidation and worry immediate furrowing his brow, darkening his eyes. He looks away, his teeth instantly finding those chapped lips again, tugging insistently. "It's- it's nothing, Edgeworth," he mumbles, lifting his face again after a moment to flash Miles a weak smile. "Do you want some more tea? I'm going to grab some more coffee-"
"Wright," Miles says firmly, grabbing hold of Phoenix's arm and keeping him seated. "Where did you get those scars? They look painful."
Those teeth continue to tug that abused lower lip.
Sighing, Miles reaches up, cupping Phoenix's cheek again after a moment's hesitation. His heart swells almost painfully as Phoenix immediately leans into the touch, lip abandoned, closing his eyes comfortably although his brows remain knitted together. Stubble catches onto Miles' palm as the defense attorney settles in as if he was always meant to be cradled in this touch.
Miles takes that moment of privacy to lean in, to inspect the wounds closer. They're… they must be from a stun gun or something of the sort, he thinks, horror growing in every bone on his body. Why in the world would someone have used something like that against him?! After all, even security and law enforcement only used stun guns as a last resort, and even then, the voltage wouldn't be high enough to cause this kind of damage. What had happened?
Phoenix finally opens his eyes again, his languid, contented expression falling away to wordless shock as he sees Miles' gaze fixated closely upon the scars. Miles can see the other man desperately trying to formulate an explanation; clearly, nothing comes to mind, the defense attorney eventually sighing, his head hanging low in defeat.
"Who did this?" Miles murmurs, gooseflesh rising in anticipation and fear.
Phoenix shakes his head. "Edgeworth, it was- I'm okay. That's all that matters-"
"Who, Wright?"
"Edgeworth-"
"Phoenix, please."
Phoenix's face shoots up, awe and shock filling his eyes. Miles shoves down the embarrassment which rises into his throat inherently, the taste of the attorney's first name foreign upon his tongue; just as foreign is the helplessness which seeps out into his voice, his own fearful desperation to learn the truth unable to be hidden away.
Finally, Phoenix sighs, the man dragging his chair around the table to face Miles head-on. "I… I'm okay, Miles," he whispers clumsily, avoiding eye contact. "What's most important is that. Everyone's okay."
Why's he being so cautious? He's saying it as if he feels guilty-
His heart freezes, ice-cold in an instant, dropping to the pit of his stomach like leaden weight.
Phoenix takes both his hands, squeezing them gently, massaging his palms with so much tenderness he cannot hide the shiver which runs down his spine. "…I found some decisive evidence, and von Karma decided it was safer for him if I didn't have it, so… yeah. He took it by any means necessary."
Miles feels his breakfast rising into his throat. He is going to be sick. "You did not get hit with a stun gun whilst trying to defend me in court."
To that, Phoenix merely shrugs, a rueful smile tugging his lips. "I would go through a lot worse if it would mean getting you the acquittal," he replies earnestly. "You know that, right? I don't regret it."
Miles cannot even speak, cannot formulate words- even coherent speech is too much to ask. The thought of Phoenix being assaulted by the man who had raised Miles- by his father's killer- whilst trying to save Miles from that unlawful murder accusation…
Phoenix can probably see Miles' heart crumbling to pieces. He has always been good at reading Miles, after all. That is likely why he takes Miles' hand and brings it back up to Phoenix's chest, pressing his fingertips against those two dark, discoloured, slightly wrinkled scars. "I mean it, you know," he whispers. "I'd do it again. We got the evidence we needed to get him, and we set you free."
His skin burns to the touch, his heartbeat pounding underneath Miles' palm. Slowly, carefully, Miles moves his hand so he can hold that heartbeat, so he can feel it racing under his fingers. Phoenix allows the movement, submitting himself, a wry, knowing smile on his face.
He could've died, Miles thinks in absolute horror. He could've died, and I would've been in the detention centre- I never would've even known it-
"But I'm here," Phoenix breathes as if reading his mind. "And I'm glad you're here, too, Miles."
Miles is utterly numb. Perhaps it is a good thing though- for once, he does not cause a scene in an attempt to hide his breakdown, for when Phoenix reaches up to wipe away the tears that fall unbidden from Miles' eyes, Miles allows him to do it without complaint. He will allow Phoenix to do anything to him at this point, he thinks faintly- Phoenix has already put his life on the line more times than Miles can even fathom in order to save him, it seems.
And, as the sun continues to rise higher into the sky, Miles' eyes catch sight of more and more scars upon Phoenix Wright's torso- the proof of everything this man has gone through. His touch should not be this soft, this gentle, in the wake of all this undeserved pain, Miles thinks.
He lets Phoenix kiss him. It does not stop these tears. It does, however, ease some of the pain of this knowledge; Phoenix is still here, after all. That miracle is all that matters.