boxolawyers | Everything short of...

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Everything short of...

[Phoenix sighs contentedly. Something about tonight is especially nice, he thinks, though he can't say exactly why. It isn't as though it's the first time they've spent their nights like this: him lying on the couch, head cushioned against Edgeworth's thigh, and Edgeworth silently reading a book above him; the TV on, just loud enough for him to make out some words; Sigi happily curled on the floor at his master's feet.

It isn't the first time they've spent their nights like this, no, but it is rare, now that he thinks about it. Too often Edgeworth spends his nights in his study, working on something or another that can't possibly wait until morning to finish. Every once in a while, though, he'll venture out to join Phoenix for a quiet night like this, and as much as Phoenix likes to complain about the man's workaholic tendencies, he supposes it does make these rare moments special.

Smiling, he idly reaches a hand down to gently (and maybe a bit hesitantly) pet Sigi's fur, satisfied when the dog doesn't flinch or move away.

Tonight is especially nice, he concludes, and his happiness inspires an urge he's found himself shying away from for far too long. Without giving himself a chance to think or doubt, he quietly, boldly says:]

I love you, you know.

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[The words are a shock to Edgeworth’s contented system. Coming wholly out of the blue, as far as he can see, they catch him off guard and leave him flailing for support as his heart seems to fall from its proper place. His body tenses, every muscle going taut, and for too long he can only stare at the pages of his book, unseeing, his mind having suddenly lost all comprehension of the printed lines.]

[Finally he manages to make his mouth work, though his response isn’t nearly as calm or collected as he wants it to be.] I know.

[Phoenix's muscles slowly unwind; the way Edgeworth had tensed up, he'd almost feared a negative reaction or, worse, no reaction at all. As it stands, the response he did get isn't the best he could have hoped for, but it didn't come as a total surprise. He'd expected something like it. After all the hurdles their relationship has gone through in regards to Edgeworth's emotional issues, he'd be a fool not to. Still, a part of him had hoped...

...but it doesn't matter, he supposes. He knows Edgeworth, and he knows how Edgeworth feels, even if he's never heard as much directly from the man himself. There are other, subtler ways he's said it, and Phoenix gets a thrill every time he's able to pick them out. The lack of three, little words doesn't mean anything.

Not wanting to give the impression that anything's wrong, he reaches up for one of Edgeworth's hands, caressing it gently in the hopes that he'll let him take it. His eyes remain glued to the TV all the while, as he tells himself there's no reason to feel so disheartened.]

[Much like Wright, Edgeworth fears the worst. The response he gets isn’t very heartening, either. Silence stifles them (or perhaps only him), and his guilt smothers him.]

[When he finally feels Wright’s gentle fingers on his, caressing with such care, he chances a skittish look at his partner: Wright’s eyes are on the television, but he’s not seeing it any more than Edgeworth sees the book in his hands. Edgeworth’s throat closes up, making it hard to swallow, but he lets his partner take his hand. His eyes are still focused on the book now held awkwardly in his other hand, stuck on one page without the other hand to switch it. He wants to be angry with Wright for putting him in this position. Wright knows what he’s like, what he’s capable of. To expect so much more of him without even a moment’s notice (and, to his mind, so early in their relationship) is unfair, and the disappointment Edgeworth imagines rolling off of his partner should by all rights be offensive. If he had only waited until Miles made the first move…]

[Edgeworth wants to feel that way. All he can feel is guilt and regret and a blinding longing for something he won’t ever have. It was never meant to be this hard. Miles says none of these things, only squeezes Phoenix's hand in what's meant to be a reassuring gesture, and the quiet deepens around them.]

[Phoenix appreciates the gesture, though it does nothing to stop him suffering the effects of the continued silence. His self-assurance and reasoning begin to flag, leaving him with conflicting feelings of embarrassment, guilt, and frustration therein. It really shouldn't matter so much, but...

But he's just going to further ruin the night if he keeps dwelling on it, he realizes.

Squeezing Edgeworth's hand in return, he pulls it towards him for a brief kiss before he abruptly sits up, needing to put some emotional and physical distance between himself and this stifling atmosphere.

With no more than a glance in Edgeworth's direction, he stands.]

I should probably eat something...

[Edgeworth glances at the clock, showing no trace of the emotional conflict that’s raging in his heart at this point. It’s infuriating to be here, both of them knowing precisely what just happened, what Miles just did to his partner, and neither of them willing or able to say a word about. The atmosphere is stifling, but they can’t both leave, unless… He hesitates for a moment then sets the bookmark in his book and sets it aside.] Actually, I should be getting back to work.

[It’s a blatant lie. If there had been any more work to do that evening he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place. Doubtless Wright will see right through him, but he can’t sit there anymore, feeling the weight of his partner’s disappointment beside him the whole night. And he can’t convincingly pretend to be reading when all he can do now is to think about what he’s done and why.]

[Phoenix mentally flinches at the words, correctly divining the reason behind them. It's only too obvious, after all. Guilt rears its head again, and he chances another glance in Edgeworth's direction, an apology on the tip of his tongue... but before he can get the words out, the reasoning side of his brain takes hold.

What should I have to apologize for? he asks himself. It's not as if I did anything wrong...

He's not eager to talk about this, however, nor have his guilt and embarrassment abated enough to justify calling the man out. He simply nods, stretches, and valiantly hopes that his voice sounds as neutral as he wants it to be when he responds.]

Alright, well... See you in bed, I guess.

[As far as Edgeworth can tell, he succeeds, though Miles wouldn’t have risked a confrontation by pointing it out if he hadn’t. Edgeworth nods, quick and far more sure than he feels. By design, his ‘work’ may keep him up long after Wright falls asleep, and knowing that is only compounding his guilt.] Mm. Let me know when you’re going to bed.

[Humming affirmatively, he hesitates a moment before leaning down to press a quick kiss into Edgeworth's hair and then hurriedly makes for the kitchen.

It's not as big a deal as it seems, he tells himself. By morning, it'll all have blown over, the doubt and discomfort only an echo of a moment of stupidity. They're only words, after all...]

[It is as big a deal as it seems. Edgeworth knows this all too well. It’s the truth that drives him from the living room as soon as Wright is out of sight. Once sequestered in his office he boots up his computer and opens all the necessary programs for work he doesn’t have. He loads the file for a case he’s already finished, busying himself with checking it over for errors for the third, maybe fourth time. Anything to continue avoiding that conversation until he’s ready to deal with the problem that he just compounded.]

[They’re only words, he tells himself. And it is only the truth. You’ve known that for a long time now. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to say it.]

[He spends the rest of the night trying to convince himself of that.]

[For Edgeworth it becomes easier to ignore the issue as time passes, but only because the next day finds him embroiled in a case that puts his formidable skills to the test as few cases do, aside from the ones Wright is involved in. By the second day of trial he’s fighting for every inch, yet somewhere in the midst of the scuffle he pulls a miraculous bit of deduction which in turn pulls the linchpin out of his opponent’s argument. He takes only a fraction of his usual pleasure in watching the defendant break down and seeing the defense slump on his bench as if all his bones were suddenly snatched from his body. In fact, after methodically returning everything to his briefcase he stalks from the courtroom without a word to the defense and only the barest of pleasantries to the judge and a few other colleagues he meets in the hall.]

[Edgeworth is tired. Bone tired. He’s still tired when he makes it home around 11:00pm. It must have shown because Wright, ever the contradiction, almost immediately suggests then asks (for some definition of the word) Edgeworth to go out for a terribly late dinner with him.]

[He should say no. He barely feels capable of driving them there (Wright offers to pay for a taxi), he looks like hell (Wright points out that anyone out that late on a Tuesday night probably also looks like hell), and he doesn’t want to go. But Wright wants to go. It’s blindingly obvious when he looks in those sad puppy dog eyes of his. After that fiasco last week he has been trying very hard not to disappoint his partner again. It won’t be much of a streak if he breaks it now.]

[Besides, the thought of a well-mixed drink and good food that he doesn’t even have to make is starting to remind Miles that he’s hardly eaten since breakfast. Has he eaten since then? Was that bag of chips from this afternoon or yesterday?]

[Grumbling all the while, Miles takes Phoenix out to dinner. They pick a favorite place down the street, within walking distance. It’s dimly lit and the fare is excellent as always, and most importantly, the company is his usual sweet, goofy self throughout. By the time they’re on the way home Miles has a pleasantly full stomach and a slightly foggy head, and for once he thinks he can look forward to collapsing into sleep the moment his head hits the pillow. All things considered it turned out to be an enjoyable night, thanks to Wright.]

[Nearly two days have passed, and neither of them has said a word about it. Although there were a few occasions when Phoenix almost apologized again, he stopped himself every time. There always seemed to be, to his mind, a good reason not to bring it up: Edgeworth was having a bad day; Edgeworth was having a good day; Edgeworth was acting like nothing had happened.

And it was that last bit that gave Phoenix his final pause. For all intents and purposes, things had returned to normal. Should he really upset the apple cart?

By the time Edgeworth comes home from a grueling day in court, Phoenix decides that he won't. Of course, he knows the man well enough to realize the issue is anything but forgotten, but he's not going to push it. If they're going to discuss it, he'll let it be on Edgeworth's terms. (He tells himself he's just being sympathetic to his partner's emotions, but a part of him knows the truth: he doesn't want to contend with that sort of disappointment again any time soon.)

As they casually stroll home, he casts the man a glance, glad to see he's much more sedate than before they left. Phoenix flashes him a smile.]

Feeling better?

Considering how I felt earlier, I highly doubt I could feel any worse.

[He turns his eyes upwards for a moment, taking in the lights of the city, before chancing a glance at his companion.]

Though if it was possible, I'm sure you would be the one to figure out how to make it happen. [His tone is teasing and light, with no trace of judgment--a far cry from the harsh, clipped tone he sported when he first got home.] I should probably be worried that you've become so proficient at manipulating my moods.

[He should be...but he isn't. Not with these results.]

[Phoenix snorts at that; he thinks Edgeworth's probably giving him a little too much credit there, but maybe that's not a bad thing...]

I just figured you were hungry. Knowing you, you worked right through recess without stopping to eat.

I did eat, Wright. [Those pesky details like what he ate and when are best left unstated.] And I had planned to make something as soon as I got home. I'm not completely incapable of taking care of myself, you know. I survived all on my own long before you entered the picture.

[But how well? He looks at his companion, his partner, and feels the answer like a wound only starting to scab over.]

Yeah, but did you survive well? [Phoenix teases, unaware of the old wound, as well as his accidental mind-reading abilities.]

[By all rights the teasing should have stung him, perhaps even enough to strike back. He opens his mouth, intending to do just that.]

...No.

[There isn’t even any surprise after he says it, just a soft, melancholy sort of resignation. After all that he’s had to confess to this man, something so small, comparatively, isn’t that difficult to say. Neither are his next words.]

My god… How I love you.

[On the other hand, the words come as a complete surprise to Phoenix, whose stops suddenly in his tracks. His smile falls, replaced by an undefined look and a question in his eyes, as he stares silently at Edgeworth.]

[Miles smiles softly. Before the trial took all of his attention he had toyed with the idea of doing this under very meticulously planned circumstances. Make it a night to remember, and one which was so particular and special that he would be less likely to chicken out at the last minute. But now that they’re here, a bit of a fog in his head and dinner on his breath, he realizes no amount of planning could have been better.]

Do you have any idea what you’ve done for me, Phoenix? I don’t know where I would be without you… [dead, in prison, still wallowing in my own personal hell] …but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would not be happy.

[Awkwardly, almost shyly, he takes his partner’s hand in both of his own and caresses it.] You didn’t have to do it. Any of it. You could have lived a normal life, even found someone who could be everything you deserve.

[He gives Phoenix a look to forestall any protests.] Don’t try to pretend your life wouldn’t be easier with someone who doesn’t choose work over you or…wake you with a panic attack in the middle of the night. Someone more like you, who doesn’t hesitate to say what’s in their heart.

Yet you’re here with me. I can’t express how grateful I am for that. You make me feel… [He worries his lower lip and averts his gaze to some spot just to Phoenix’s right.] …less broken. I do love you, for that and many, many other reasons.

Edgeworth...

[Soft and breathless, it's the only word Phoenix can say for several moments. Throughout Edgeworth's speech, he'd remained silently in awe, offering no protest even where it was clearly expected. (By the time he'd even thought to object, Edgeworth had already moved on, and he was rendered speechless anew.) Now he stands just as still, the only movement being the convulsive bob of his Adam's apple.

He's never been one to choke up during moments like this. Even in his younger, more emotional days, when he thought he'd never hear words as beautiful and loving as Dollie's, his chest had never ached so deeply or felt so full that he thought it might burst. Maybe it's that he didn't expect it from Edgeworth, or perhaps it's that he's older and no longer so naive. Maybe it's just because it's Edgeworth...

Whatever the cause, he's finding it very difficult to do more than sputter around the lump in his throat.]

I didn't think... I-- I mean, I knew that you... but you didn't have to...

[Realizing how ridiculous he must sound, he laughs, a quiet, breathless noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob, and then pulls Miles close to him. He rests his forehead against the other man's, eyes slipping shut, and wishes he could think of something equally beautiful to say back to him, but all he can seem to manage are a few, whispered words.]

God, Miles... You mean everything to me, you know that? Everything...

Edited 2013-10-10 22:28 (UTC)

[Miles is out of his younger, more emotional days, but he knows with a blinding clarity that these are the most beautiful and loving words he will ever hear. He may hear them many more times, in many more places, many more ways, but they will never sound like this again, will never again carry this same, paradoxically uplifting weight. There's no way he can ever match them. He has to try, though, for Phoenix's sake.]

Finding true justice is...was my sole purpose in life, but it would have eluded me forever if it weren't for you. You gave me back my purpose, my life, even...the heart I gave up on as a child. I never thought I could... [The imperfect words catch in his throat, finally forcing him to say instead, with an awkward smile:] You are my everything.

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Everything short of...

This icon is an accurate representation of Miles' feelings rn.

poor baby <3

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TIMESKIP WHOOSH

WHOOSH ~~/o/

~~~~~~~/o/

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