trace (vestiges)

Sliding back into some semblance of a routine in Germany is surprisingly quick and painless, Miles finds. By the end of his first day back, arriving straight from the airport, he feels as if he had never left at all. Frederik welcomes him back with open arms, the space beside him in their favourite café to visit for lunch ready for Miles' return. The others in the firm are just as excited to have him back, filled with jovial smiles and comforting words of welcome.

They also cannot resist quietly teasing him for the whirlwind that is his younger sister personifies. Something about this pulls Miles' heartstrings, seeing the traces of Franziska carved so unmistakeably in this space which they have both shared in different times. They had used the same office, after all, during their respective stays. He spots her favourite tea and her favourite biscuits in the breakroom, and there is a scuff in one of the drawers that matches her whip to the letter, much to his chagrin.

He messages her more than once after he arrives in Germany. She tells him to stop his 'sentimental foolishness'. He knows she does not mind these gentle check-ins, though; she has the choice of simply ignoring him, after all, and she never, ever does. That is enough.

His schedule to call Phoenix starts off without a hitch. The first call is the most painful; he lies in bed, eyes halfway closed as jetlag assaults his senses, his phone on speaker, the ringing of the other end echoing in his cold flat.

Finally, Phoenix picks up. It is midday for the man, almost thirty hours after their separation. For a few, heart palpitation-inducing moments, Miles' chest aches in time with the ringing of the phone; soon enough, however, the other end clicks, a frantic, desperate voice crying, "Edge-edgeworth? Is that you?"

And just like that, the tension which has built up throughout this one exhausting day finally comes undone, every muscle in his body relaxing at once as he rolls over, closing his eyes, lips near the microphone. "Indeed, it's me," he replies softly.

Phoenix lets out a half-bark of almost frenzied laughter on the other end. "I- how was the trip?"

Miles does not respond right away. There is an anxious mania in the way Phoenix's voice keeps hitching, pitching strangely throughout his sentences as if he cannot believe what is happening.

He cannot believe it.

Gently, Miles clears his throat, then replies, "It was fine. I was working all day, hence why I did not get a chance to call, but… Wright?"

"Yes?"

"I kept my promise," he insists. "And I shall keep doing it. Believe in me."

There is a pause. Miles almost wonders whether he needs to redial, if the line has gone dead; then, he hears a long, drawn-out sniffle as Phoenix tries to bite back tears, a choked sob emerging as hoarse chuckles. "I- dammit, Edgeworth, I have a meeting with a client soon, you can't make me cry."

Miles smiles, listening to Phoenix try and sort himself out. "You're a fool, Wright."

Instantly, Phoenix seems to bristle. "Oh, someone's been texting Franziska, but you didn't have time to text me, is that it?"

Their conversation devolves from there for nearly twenty minutes. Miles finds his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as time goes on, weariness sucking his body into his mattress without restraint. Finally, he whispers, "Wright?"

Phoenix pauses. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Is it alright if… if I call you more than we originally planned?" He yawns, burrowing his face further into his pillow, feeling his cheeks heat up as he tries to find the words to express what he longs to confess. "I… struggled a lot sleeping when I was here last."

"…does my voice help?"

"Shut up, Wright."

"I thought my voice helped, though?"

Miles rolls his eyes half-heartedly as he hears the teasing edge to Phoenix's smiling voice. "Tell me about your current case."

Phoenix sighs, long and wistful tenor echoing into Miles' apartment. "…I love you, Miles, you know that?"

"And I, you."

He does not remember the details of Phoenix's upcoming trial. He is asleep long before Phoenix's meeting, after all; when he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, he is strangely refreshed for someone who should be, by all measures, extremely jetlagged still. He does not doubt this finding, though. Phoenix's voice has always been the most comforting thing to him, after all.