Chapter Text
During the first day, Edgeworth’s absence from his office wasn’t that strange. Phoenix had made a stop at the Prosecutor’s Office to meet a witness from a case he was working on. Habit had made it so that he usually paid room 1202 a visit whenever he was around. Phoenix wasn’t sure what he usually hoped to accomplish during those visits. Was it nudging a helping hand from Edgeworth, or maybe just saying hello? He was usually at least guaranteed the latter.
But oddly enough, the room had been locked, and though his case stole his attention soon after, bumping into a certain green-coated detective reignited his curiosity. Phoenix asked about Edgewoth’s whereabouts and was promptly told that the guy had called in sick that morning. The horror on Gumshoe’s face and the shock he also felt should not be normal reactions to hearing such news. Naturally, people get sick, and people with cozy government jobs have sick days they can spend annually. The thing was that it was Edgeworth they were talking about, mentee of Manfred—a single vacation in his 40-year career—von Karma. Phoenix had hoped, somewhat wryly, that whatever was keeping the prosecutor home was something less demanding than a bullet wound.
The next morning, about an hour before the trial, Phoenix gave his friend a call. His phone rang all the way to voicemail with no response. Though a single missed call hadn’t left Phoenix too concerned, a second attempt, one much later in the day, told him that Edgeworth’s phone couldn’t be reached. It was then that anxiety started surfacing its ugly head.
“Hey, Gumshoe? Have you heard from Edgeworth today?”
“Not even a lick, pal! Honestly, I’m getting a little worried. Must be some nasty cold that’s taking him out for this long!”
Phoenix pressed his phone against his shoulder and tried getting the speaker a bit closer to his ear. His hands were occupied with the towel he was wiping them with. It was because Maya had weaseled out of cleaning the kitchen that day. “Did he say that himself, or are you assuming the ‘cold’ part?” Eventually, he was free to hold his phone and crash down on his rotating office chair. The defense lawyer let out a tired sigh.
“I mean, I guess it’s my assumption, but he sounded pretty winded out over the phone yesterday. His voice was all raspy!” The detective chuckled. “Reminded me of when my throat would feel sore in the morning. You gotta drink some hot water to wash all that gunk down!”
“Uh, you mean like some lemon and honey?”
“Pal, you think I can afford honey?!”
Pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, Phoenix refocused his thoughts. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyways, I wanted to drop by to check on him. Probably tomorrow or something. Do you happen to know his address?” It’s admittedly embarrassing, supposedly being Edgeworth’s closest friend and not having something so elementary recorded in his notes. In his defense, the other had spent less than a quarter of this year in the country. Since rekindling their friendship, he has only had the opportunity to visit Edgeworth’s home once. It had been as extravagant as he had expected. Oversized, maybe, for someone who lives alone, but still a nice home. Going there once hadn’t been enough for him to remember where it was located.
“Oh, I got you covered, pal! Tell Mr. Edgeworth to get well soon for us, okay? We’re eagerly awaiting his return!”
The words brought a small smile to Phoenix’s face. He nodded, despite the detective not being able to see it. “I will. Thanks, Gumshoe.”
As he placed his phone down after ending the call, a certain bunned head emerged in his line of sight.
“Was that Gumshoe on the phone? It sounded like him.” Maya had her belongings stuffed into a large bag and hanging over her shoulder. With the Wright and Co. Offices’ latest case closing out this morning, his assistant saw a good opportunity to spend time at home with her cousin. She had already promised him to return soon with Pearls.
“Yeah, I got Edgeworth’s address from him. I’ll give him a visit tomorrow.” Phoenix scratched the back of his head, slightly sheepish. “With Edgeworth, you’re never sure if he’s okay or if he just quietly collapsed somewhere without telling anyone.”
Maya’s jaw suddenly dropped as if he’d said something crazy. “You’re saying that and you’re waiting to visit him tomorrow?!” She all but lifted him by the collar and started shaking him. “Nick! What kind of friend are you?! Go check up on Edgeworth! Now!”
Phoenix was startled by the outburst. He put his hands up and gestured in some effort to calm Maya down. “Hey, this isn’t visiting hours! Besides, tomorrow I would be able to–”
“How can you be so calm?!” She yelled, astonished. “That’s it! I’m dropping you off myself!” Maya began tugging him out of his chair, practically launching them out of the office with only his phone and jacket to nab before the door fell shut.
Perhaps Maya had a point, somewhat. He was rather calm for someone who was supposedly worried about his unresponsive, sick friend. Maybe it was because he wasn’t expecting to find something particularly worrying when he made it to Edgeworth’s house. The guy had a housekeeper, right? Surely, she would help him somewhat while she’s around, so he wasn’t completely alone. In his mind, Phoenix saw the visit as something more selfish, easing his own anxiety but ultimately placing a burden on the already tired Edgeworth.
The thoughts made him momentarily hesitate, leaving his finger hovering in front of the doorbell, but not visiting after Maya had shoved him into a cab that brought him all the way there was silly. He already bought things for Edgeworth, so he at least wanted to give them to him. He could do that while being as little of a burden as possible.
Phoenix pressed the doorbell. It made a louder ‘DING’ than he had expected, almost startling him. While waiting for an answer, a detail caught his eye. There was a sort of camera looking down at him, possibly even equipped with a motion detector. It was the kind of home security tech he would expect from someone working in law enforcement. Sometimes, Phoenix thought about the possible number of innocent people Edgeworth had put behind bars over the years. Whenever he did, he would find himself hoping that none of them would feel particularly vengeful after serving their sentence.
But really, he shouldn’t feel like he had to worry about Edgeworth. After all, his friend had so many things. There was nothing of benefit that his concerned thoughts could offer, as he was sure that Edgeworth already considered them.
The door opened. Behind it, a figure stood, wiping sleep from their eyes. They wore a perpetual frown, one almost covered by the disheveled hair that stood up every which way. This figure was also notably in pajamas.
It wasn’t Prosecutor Edgeworth. It certainly wasn’t the Demon Attorney, but it wasn’t quite Miles Edgeworth either. It was just… Miles.
Miles with a drowsy fever.
“O-oh, Edgeworth!” Phoenix couldn’t help waving and fidgeting. “I’m…I’m sorry if I woke you up! Just thought to check up on you since I couldn’t reach you by phone!”
“Wright.”
“Yeah, I just bought some stuff that could help you feel better. It’s not much. I’ll just leave them in your kitchen, then I’ll be on–”
“Are you just going to blather on in my doorway?” Edgeworth sniffled. Oh god, he was sniffling. Edgeworth was actually sick. “Come in first.” And so the figure in front of him turned around, slowly leading the way inside. Phoenix followed dumbly, still feeling struck by the hair, the clothes, and even the shockingly cute color of the pajamas…
Continuing to stare, he could see that the back of Edgeworth’s head had all the hallmarks of sleeping with sweaty hair and having your pillow flatten it down. Given such a detail, Edgeworth suddenly seemed so…normal. A little pitiful even, with the rough sound his throat made every time he talked.
Something about the image was breaking his heart a little.
“You didn’t have to trouble yourself.” Edgeworth cleared his throat halfway. “But I uh- appreciate it. I don’t know why you’re just standing there. Take a seat.” Phoenix had to wonder if the effort Edgeworth was putting into keeping his voice was part of his imagination. When it threatened to crack, the prosecutor seemed to pretend to pause and reorient himself.
“How are you feeling?“ Phoenix sat on a sofa that looked as if it had been pulled out of a new-home catalogue. His friend had politely taken the convenience store bag from his hand and headed to the kitchen. Phoenix didn’t get an answer to his question until the sick man was back in the living room.
“I’m feeling fine. I would be at work had this blasted illness not messed up my throat.” It made sense. Phoenix could imagine how difficult it would be to yell in court with a voice this raspy.
“Wait– what do you mean??” It took him a moment to properly register what the other had said. “Edgeworth, you’re sweating bullets and you’re breathing from your mouth. No one’s allowing you into your office looking like that!”
“Oh, sorry. I hadn’t realized it was so obvious.” The prosecutor covered his mouth as if his counter just then had been pointing out poor etiquette. Phoenix quickly shook his head.
“You’re missing my point, Edgeworth.” He sighed. So much for feeling silly about being worried. More people need to worry about this guy. “Go back to bed. You look like your feet are barely holding you up.” In response, the other began to frown, even more so than he already was. Stubbornly, Edgeworth took a seat across from him.
“The tea is still brewing. I can return to bed after you’re done sticking your nose in my business.” Congestion, coughing, fever, or not, Edgeworth is still plain old prickly Edgeworth.
“Tell me you at least saw a doctor.” Phoenix exasperatedly tried.
“Wright, please, you think I could be so careless about my health?” The prosecutor huffed in offense. “The doctor said it was the flu. I am already taking the medication.”
Though the flu could be nasty to deal with, Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Edgeworth had hopefully caught it early and was on the right track to recovery.
“The instructions were simple, really, just taking some pills and eating lightly. It wasn’t anything I needed to stay in the hospital for.”
Phoenix found himself smiling a little. “Yeah, people don’t usually end up in the hospital for the flu unless it’s really bad. Was the doctor visit this morning?” It would explain the lack of response from his phone.
“No, that was two weeks ago.”
A sudden whistle from the kitchen halted the conversation. Before Phoenix could ask Edgeworth to clarify, to tell him that he hadn’t had the flu for two weeks and not gotten past the heaviest symptoms, the words died in his throat. He watched the other disappear past the kitchen door, and silence fell upon the living room.
He definitely wasn’t leaving this man alone any time soon.
“Here you go.” Edgeworth offered him tea with the regular nonchalance. One could easily miss the rest of the picture, the part where you saw his hands making the surface of the tea quiver from instability.
“Thanks.” Phoenix took the cup and kept surveying Edgeworth. His friend carefully stepped around the coffee table and fell into a seat across from him. To Edgeworth’s credit, the motion would have looked a lot more graceful had his pajamas been buttoned up all the way and his nose been less runny. Edgeworth soon fixed the latter by discreetly using a napkin while Phoenix sipped his tea.
It was still a useless attempt, as he soon saw the prosecutor sniffling again.
“So you’ve been doing as your doctor told you, right? Taking medicine and eating.”
Edgeworth sank a little into the back of his seat as he took a sip. The aroma of his tea smelled pleasantly like lavender and honey. “I have an alarm, in case I forget the medication. Food has been…a bit more of a chore. It tastes wrong, and I have little appetite for it.”
“Wait, who’s preparing your food to begin with?”
Edgeworth gave his question a thoughtful hum. “I don’t have a person’s name, but there is this service that delivers my daily meals to my door. Their menu is quite healthy, actually. I recommend it.”
Phoenix felt a tiny bit agitated. Right, rich people things. How could he think that Prosecutor Edgeworth went grocery shopping and meal-prepped like some minimum-wage pleb?
“What I am hearing is that you haven’t been eating, and that you’re growing weaker by the day.” He stared pointedly at the other. Edgeworth averted his gaze with an annoyed huff.
“Still pushing your nose into my business, I see.” The prosecutor cleared his throat, again adjusting his weak voice. “I try to eat, but it’s hard to swallow. It sometimes feels as though the food itself is injuring my throat, not to mention that the taste is unpleasant.”
Phoenix exhaled a sigh. He couldn’t keep doing that. Going back and forth with Edgeworth, or winning an argument against him, was only fun when the other wasn’t subtly breathing from his mouth and using the teacup to hide most of his fever-ridden face. Put bluntly, Miles Edgeworth looked like shit. Miles Edgeworth also would never admit to being incompetent at managing his illness. Additionally, Miles Edgeworth could soon develop pneumonia if no one interfered.
Phoenix briefly wondered where everyone else was, the people beside him who could interfere with Edgeworth.
“After drinking your tea, head back to bed, okay? I’m going to use your kitchen for a little.” Phoenix set his half-finished cup down and took his jacket off. He was glad to have picked up some canned soup from the supermarket.
Edgeworth practically gawked at him. “What for??”
“Hey, don’t make that face! I won’t mess it up.”
“That’s not– Wright, don’t leave your jacket on my armchair!”
Phoenix chuckled. He picked it up and ran off with a half-hearted ‘my bad,’ before he could hear any more objections.
Phoenix didn't even think that canned chicken noodle soup tasted particularly good, only that it was passable as a quick meal. He had much fonder memories of the homemade variety his mother used to make him when he was sick. The broth had tasted much richer, and the chicken and vegetables had a more pleasant chew. Memories told him that it had been a comforting meal.
Phoenix felt sad knowing he couldn’t offer a similarly warm experience to his childhood friend. Did the von Karma estate have homemade chicken noodle soup? He guessed that they probably prepared something a little fancier when people fell ill.
After he finished heating the food, he poured it into a bowl. Watching Edgeworth eat canned soup with a silver spoon was bound to look at least somewhat comical.
What he hadn’t expected to find when he reached the main bedroom was Edgeworth fast asleep. The way he was nestled into his sheets made it feel as though the other had been there for hours, never having woken up and opened the door for him just a half an hour ago.
Phoenix paused in front of the bed and took his eyes off Edgeworth for a moment. He let his sight linger on all the details in the room that looked out of place. The Steel Samurai figures sitting on the shelves were to be expected after getting to know Edgeworth better, but the messy dresser and haphazardly made bed were a bit of a surprise. It could have been because Edgeworth was too sick to tidy up the place.
Or maybe it could have been because Edgeworth had a messy side to him that no one had discovered yet.
The thought of being the first discoverer made a strange sense of pride take hold of Phoenix. Edgeworth likely saw these little signs of humanity he left in his trail as flaws, but it was really too bad that he did. If his friend could be a little more forgiving of himself—a bit more attuned with how the people who care about him saw him—then perhaps Phoenix could one day tease Edgeworth about his messy bedroom without the other clamping up like they’re a failure of his character.
“Right, the food.” He had to remind himself. Phoenix placed the tray on the nightstand and took a seat at the edge of the bed. Gently, he shook the blanket with the other underneath it. The only response he got was a tired groan. Edgeworth was already sleeping with his mouth open. The sound of his breathing was labored and restless. Phoenix could remember what it felt like to be congested and to try to sleep. It was literal hell.
“I know I told you to go to bed, but I obviously wanted you to eat first.” He shook him again. No real response.
“You should probably also take a bath. You look really uncomfortable under all these blankets.” Another back-and-forth motion. Edgeworth remained frowning sleepily.
“Edgeworth?” Phoenix leaned in a little closer.
“...Miles?” He could see the flushed, feverish face. Despite the permanent scowl, it looked much softer in that state. It was…the type of expression that left Phoenix staring for too long, made his chest feel constricted.
He shook Edgeworth again. Finally, but slowly, his eyes squinted open.
“Miles.” Right as Phoenix was beginning to smile, he saw surprise flash in Edgeworth’s eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was cleanly elbowed in the cheek.
“Phoenix Wright! Is that how you would wake someone up?!– Oh, sorry.” Edgeworth realized his reflex a bit too late. Phoenix rubbed his cheek with a sigh.
“You’re very welcome, Edgeworth...”
“Oh, come off it! It wasn’t that hard.” His friend rolled his eyes. Edgeworth wasn’t wrong. The punch to the face he got from Redd White that one time hurt much worse than this.
Phoenix picked up the food and passed it over. “I didn’t peg you for the jumpy type.” Edgeworth looked between the steaming bowl and the defense attorney’s face. The furrow of his brows pressed with slight confusion.
“I’m not. I just forgot you were here. My housekeeper doesn’t walk into my bedroom.” Edgeworth took the silver spoon. The careful way he inspected the soup and the puzzled expression he made from the smell forced Phoenix to hide a grin behind his hand.
“Speaking of, when does she come around?”
“Around once a week, but I have to call her in.” Phoenix thought back to the singular other time he had visited Edgeworth’s home. Seeing the housekeeper then left him with the wrong assumption that she came around more often. He remembered getting the impression of a kind-looking older lady, maybe around his mother’s age. Edgeworth had later told him that she used to work for the von Karma house. She was a part of his childhood, of sorts.
“With all my travels, she’s the only reason this house isn’t gathering dust.” His friend added. Edgeworth seemed to have finally gathered the courage to try a bite of the food. After the spoon disappeared past his lips, a silent moment passed. Following it, the taste seemed to leave Edgeworth’s expression completely blank. Phoenix was reveling in the moment
“How is it?”
“Um…good…?” The other replied carefully.
“You can’t taste it, can you?”
“No, I can’t.”
Phoenix didn’t hide his grin this time. He stared as more of that earlier pride made his chest swell.
Noticing it, Edgeworth arched an eyebrow as he continued eating. “...what’s with the devious expression?” He chewed a piece of chicken and frowned in puzzlement, likely at the texture.
Phoenix chuckled to himself. “I think this is the kind of image that gets uploaded on cryptid sighting forums.”
Edgeworth immediately rolled his eyes and huffed sarcastically. “Oh, so you have used the computer long enough to reach forums? Good one, Wright.”
“Hey, Maya’s been teaching me!” Phoenix jumped on the defense. He didn’t know that even Edgeworth knew of his computer illiteracy. No doubt also Maya’s doing. “I’ll have you know that the Wright and Co. Law Offices now have more online presence than ever!”
“Yes, zero to one is indeed an increase,” Edgeworth replied with a smirk.
“It’s zero to at least five!”
Just when Edgeworth took a light breath, and just as his smirk was about to turn into a genuine chuckle, the other suddenly broke into a coughing fit.
It started harmless enough, but a few long moments passed, and it hadn’t let up. The sound grew violent instead, forcing Phoenix to feel panicked. He quickly put away the tray and fretted around for water. “Shit, hold on!” A bottle was right by the bed. He opened it and scooted next to Edgeworth, passing it over to try to get him to drink some. After the other accepted it, Phoenix decided to run his hand along Edgeworth’s back and watch his friend take several careful sips. The coughing fit took a while longer to break. By the end, Edgeworth had almost curled in on himself. He was breathing heavily, and his voice had ended up raspier than before.
“Sorry, Wright. Sorry.” Edgeworth cleared his throat. He was clutching his chest in a show of discomfort. Guilt filled Phoenix’s conscience when he realized he had been working up a sick person beyond his limits.
But Edgeworth was that sort of man. He could present himself as normal, regardless of his physical condition, and most often you would be none the wiser. What little energy his friend had was being carefully spent on engaging in conversation with him that entire time. Edgeworth was exerting himself for his sake.
Phoenix ushered the other closer without realizing it, wrapping his arm around a body that was uncomfortably hot, and nestling it close.
“...Wright?”
When Edgeworth’s breath tickled his collar, Phoenix finally let his panic melt and exhaled in relief. “Sorry, you just scared me there. Your cough is no joke.” In response, Edgeworth seemed to nod vaguely against his chest.
“Mm, it’s a…pain to deal with.” Slowly, his friend loosened his grip around his own chest and tangled his hands in the blankets, a subtle show of unease. Phoenix let his cheek touch the top of Edgeworth’s messy head.
“You’re really hot.”
“Uh? –Ah, yes, my temperature.” The sound of Edgeworth's voice became muffled at the end.
Phoenix snorted. “Yes, your temperature. Let me get you a cooling patch.” He let Edgeworth go and left the room momentarily. The grocery bag he brought was sitting on the kitchen counter, and next to it were the things he had grabbed from the pharmacy just in case. He hadn’t expected that he would actually need them.
He also hadn’t expected…how warm Edgeworth would feel that close to him.
In case it hadn’t been apparent, he saw Edgeworth as something a little more special than a friend. He was irreplaceable, in a lot of ways, an individual who shaped the trajectory of his life without even knowing it.
These intense feelings he held had accompanied him for so many years that he had long gotten used to their presence. Being close to Edgeworth didn't fluster him or get his thoughts racing; instead, it was a comforting, familiar presence.
But sometimes, when he was next to him, when the opportunity to get even closer to Edgeworth presented itself, and he took it, he found so much fulfillment that it gripped his heart.
With a sigh mourning his own hopelessness, Phoenix brought his attention back to his task and retrieved the box of patches. When he returned to the bedroom, Edgeworth had already resumed eating. The bowl was almost empty, which was impressive for someone who claimed to have little appetite. Phoenix waited until Edgeworth pushed his food away before approaching him.
“Do you have a thermometer?” He sat on the edge of the bed while opening the box.
“Yes, you’ll find it in this drawer.” Edgeworth pointed to his nightstand. Phoenix reached in and carefully rummaged through to find it. When he took the thermometer out of its box, he passed it over to Edgeworth. His friend accepted it, but not before skeptically looking between him and the device.
“Wright, for how long do you plan on acting as my caretaker?” Edgeworth pressed the button to start the thermometer. Despite his tone, he was cooperative. Phoenix huffed in amusement.
“Maybe I’m trying to act as your friend? You know, Maya left for home today and my latest case got wrapped up this morning. I happen to not be too busy at the moment.”
“So you have too much free time on your hands,” Edgeworth replied with a condescending smirk. He put the thermometer tip in his mouth, and the next minute passed in silence as they waited for the device to beep.
When it did, Phoenix snatched it himself.
“100.8 degrees! That's not as bad as I expected.” He looked up with a smile. Edgeworth snatched the thermometer back. “I don't wish to imagine what worse feels like, Wright!” He looked over the reading himself and squinted, growing even more dissatisfied. Phoenix finally pulled a cooling patch and started looking Edgeworth over.
“Well, I have a nifty solution right here. Can you lift your head this way?”
Seemingly oblivious to what was about to be done, Edgeworth looked up and locked eyes with the cooling patch. “How do you use–” The rest of the sentence seemed to die when the defense attorney pushed the bangs off of Edgeworth's forehead. Phoenix used his sleeve to wipe the sweat clinging to it and pressed the patch cleanly on. Through every step, his friend appeared bewildered as he watched him.
Edgeworth's hair was brushed back, which was a rare sight by itself. Combined with the rest of his sickly appearance: his face, his messy clothes, Phoenix genuinely felt as though he was bearing witness to a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon.
He felt like the luckiest man alive.
“Now take off your shirt.”
“What?!”
“You want to put more of these around to break your fever faster!”
“You’re doing this on purpose, Wright,” Edgeworth grumbled, but his hands carefully undid one button after the other. With a small laugh, Phoenix handed over the patches and told Edgeworth where to put them. Two on either side of his upper chest, then two on his upper arms. Lastly, Phoenix pointed to the back of his neck to get Edgeworth to put one there. His friend had a hard time reaching the spot.
“Hang on, I got this.” Phoenix scooted closer. He leaned over Edgeworth’s shoulder and brushed his hand across his nape. Goosebumps rose under his touch, but not a word of protest came from Edgeworth as the patch was pressed on. Phoenix hoped it would stick well enough despite the sweat rolling down his back.
It was then that Edgeworth spoke softly. “You still haven't said anything.” Phoenix glanced down. The skin along the other’s neck and ears looked just a bit more flushed.
“Anything about what?”
“My…state. It's unseemly.”
“Oh.” Phoenix retracted his hand and sat back down. He felt momentarily stumped.
“You don't look that bad.” He lied.
“Wright, I feel like shit. I know my appearance follows to the same conclusion.” Edgeworth countered flatly, and he had evidence on his side. “It's gross, and I'm wondering…why you’ve been putting up with it. You're even willing to touch me.”
Phoenix blinked. An answer came to mind, something along the lines of ‘You’re sick. Geez, why are you fussing over that?’ But such an answer would reward him with a pointed glare from the prosecutor rather than understanding. Phoenix took a moment to construct his argument. Telling Edgeworth that he ‘doesn’t want to hurt his feelings’ wouldn’t work either. He might get kicked out of the house.
“I think you should look at it the other way around. You’re sick, so why should I expect you to be all put together?” The good old Mia trick never failed him. Phoenix directed a smile at his confused friend. “I’m the one who came into your home uninvited, so you don’t owe me anything–”
“You’re always invited to my home, Wright.” Edgeworth cut in. His tone was forceful. Phoenix had to double-check that the words he heard were, in fact, as sweet as they sounded.
Edgeworth was blushing, and he looked so troubled admitting it. Phoenix hadn’t expected to suddenly feel flattered. To have his company welcomed by Edgeworth, Miles Edgeworth, was an honor he felt so moved to have.
“Case in point, it sounds like you should trust me more.” Phoenix was smiling, fuzzy, and happy.
“But I do.”
“Then also trust that I wouldn’t make fun of you for being sick.” He ended his response by reaching out for Edgeworth. Phoenix genuinely didn’t care that his hair was sticky with sweat or that his sniffling friend was a potential hazard to his own health. He let his thumb brush along the edge of the forehead patch before giving it a playful flick. Phoenix laughed when his hand was swatted away. Edgeworth, in turn, huffed and began rebuttoning his pajama shirt. “Mature as ever, Wright.”
Conversation soon grew quieter as Edgeworth lay down and started asking him about more mundane things. The office, Maya, and his case from that morning. The other was already nodding off as Phoenix explained part of his cross-examination, and by the time he got to describing how the witness broke down on the stand, Edgeworth had already given in to his exhaustion. Phoenix kept talking just in case it helped the other sleep. He watched the blankets rise and gently fall with each tired breath.
When Phoenix was finally sure that Edgeworth wasn't waking up, he got to his feet and returned the tray to the kitchen. The pot and bowl he used were quickly washed in the sink and placed aside. After his hands were dried and he returned to the bedroom, he let his body settle on the ground next to the bed to get some rest, also letting his head settle against the mattress.
He felt a decent bit of exhaustion. Phoenix thought about how Gumshoe had made him promise to call if he made sure that Edgeworth was okay. That call could be made after he gave his eyes some rest. There was no rushing it.
He napped for an amount of time he couldn’t identify. In that hazy place between consciousness and sleep, snippets of the day replayed like images behind his eyelids.
He seemed to conjure images of his own, too. His hand against a drowsy face, Edgeworth leaning a feverish cheek into his palm. It was all so warm, and he wanted to… The prosecutor’s lips also felt warm in that imaginary scenario.
Phoenix drifted awake by the sound of his phone. Well, the song he keeps as his ringtone, courtesy of Maya. He blindly reached for the nightstand and pressed the accept button. No doubt Gumshoe grew impatient waiting for an update.
“Hello?” His voice came out barely audible, weak from sleep.
“...”
No response. Phoenix pushed his head off the mattress and rubbed his eyes, repeating. “Hello? Sorry, I was taking a nap. What’s up?”
“PHOENIX WRIGHT, WHY ARE YOU ANSWERING MILES EDGEWORTH’S PHONE?!” The sheer volume knocked him to the ground. Phoenix stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing frantically. Was this who he thought it was??
“Ms. von Karma! I- uh, I’m sorry???” He gave the phone a look over. Indeed, this is a much nicer model than his dingy old device.
“Are you in his house?! Why hasn’t he been answering my calls?!” He was still failing to understand why Franziska von Karma was seething with rage. Then again, when is that woman not angry?
“He’s sick. Didn’t he tell you? None of us could reach him, so I went to check up on him in person.” He heard a click of the tongue from the other side of the line. Surprisingly poor manners from a self-proclaimed sophisticated lady.
“He did not. What sort of illness would keep him from answering his phone, and not stop him from letting you into his house?”
Phoenix certainly did not miss seeing her in court. “The flu, apparently. He’s pretty out of it.” He decided to leave the room and take the conversation outside. Filling von Karma in on the details did not take long.
“So that’s how it is.” The prosecutor huffed. “I’m glad to know that it’s not a simple cold that’s taking Miles out of work. It would have been quite embarrassing, really.” She sounded a little smug about it. Phoenix felt stupid for expecting her to show concern.
“I take it you’re not in the country right now?”
“No, I have an international case in my hands. I can hardly stay in one place.” She tried to gloat. Phoenix made a face he was glad she couldn't see.
“Yeah, that’s nice.”
“But you happen to have quite a lot of free time on your hands, don’t you, Phoenix Wright?" She continued. Phoenix could imagine her wagging her finger condescendingly. "I would say that that time is best spent helping my little brother return to his duties, pronto.”
“Oh, so you're in Italy?” He replied sarcastically.
“Listen to me, Phoenix Wright, and listen well!!” She yelled with sudden force, which actually made Phoenix flinch, expecting a whip to come down on him. “I meant it! My brother can get away with speaking so highly of you only, and only if you prove yourself to be worthy of that respect!” There was a brief pause. Phoenix didn't dare interject because he didn't believe that von Karma was finished.
“Tell him to call me once he wakes up.” She finally added. “If his condition doesn't improve, take him to the doctor’s. If you have work that requires your attention at the moment, I'll even pay you in compensation.”
He frowned, mildly offended. “You can keep your money–”
“That is to say, take care of Miles for me.” His mouth fell slightly open in shock, struck by the sudden earnestness. “I know it's your company that he would never mind, even in that state. That foolish fool of a brother of mine…”
“Uh.” At a loss for words, Phoenix found that there was nothing he could give but compliance. “Sure.” He had already planned on it, after all. He didn’t need an incentive, and definitely not one from Ms. von Karma. “Do you want me to keep you updated…?”
“No, I am done speaking with you. I will receive all updates from Miles himself.” Phoenix immediately regretted attempting niceties. The call ended soon after.
It was 3 AM, and Phoenix found his head hitting a pillow on Edgeworth’s sofa. He knew there were empty bedrooms he could retire to for the day, but casually inviting himself into one felt a bit crass. If he tried, there was a possibility that he could stumble into Franziska’s room of all things, and the thought alone made him shiver. Messing up Edgeworth’s pictureisque furniture was still going to look rude, but it sounded much better than the alternative.
It was odd. His couch back in the office wasn't the greatest. It was a cheap thing he and Mia bought just to have somewhere to seat clients, or something to help them get some shuteye during late nights. Yet, that cheap thing felt so much more comfortable to sleep on compared to the fancy mattress under him. The soft and velvety fabrics somehow didn’t live up to their aesthetics.
Having an uncomfortable, but extremely nice-looking home fit Edgeworth so well that it made him chuckle.
But there wasn’t much humor behind it, because the thought also made him depressed.
After hours of lying in bed, Miles found his consciousness drifting in. He couldn’t comprehend what woke him beyond an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. A tickle in his throat forced a cough out of him, but with how congested he was, air failed to properly escape and made him choke in the process. Almost his entire airway was clogged, which made even the act of breathing difficult. Feeling suffocated, he quickly rose in his bed and hacked.
The change in position seemed to redirect the mucus and somewhat clear his nose, but only by a small margin. Each inhale made an undignified whistle and barely drew oxygen. When he opened his mouth to breathe, the air felt too cold for his lungs.
Several minutes passed with the exact struggle. Miles coughed and heaved in some attempt to clear his throat. When he found an unpleasant taste in his mouth and spat it out, he found a disgusting, bright green color sitting in the napkin.
His misery couldn’t feel any thicker. Miles wondered if Wright had gone home yet. It would be best if his friend had.
Miles didn’t want to be left alone.
When Wright had rang the bell earlier in the evening, and when Miles had confirmed who it was through the ring camera, he had found his feet taking him to the door before he could give it better thought.
How come Wright was always there to aid him at his lowest points?
And how come he always found himself hopelessly, foolishly taking his hand?
His hand, the one that was so gentle…
Miles covered his face. His fingers dug into his forehead as he tried to breathe. Breathe, breathe, it was all he needed to do, yet his body was insistent on making every draw of oxygen move like needles through his chest. He was in pain and so thoroughly spent. He wanted to call Wright.
He didn’t.
After drinking some water and using a nasal spray his doctor had prescribed, he found his distress soon subsiding into fatigue. That fatigue was dizzying, thankfully dulling his senses enough that his pain almost faded. His consciousness soon also succumbed to exhaustion.
A mind jumbled with sickness didn’t behave like a regular one. It had more freedom to think without being controlled by its better judgment. With no sense clouding him, Miles could freely linger on his interactions with Wright during that day.
He could remember how that clumsy man he called a friend had no right to have a touch so comforting.
When morning came, Phoenix decided to finally use his phone and call some people. Gumshoe was the first he spoke to. The detective enthusiastically offered to come by and give a helping hand, but after considering the kind of reaction Edgeworth would have to that arrangement, Phoenix had to gently turn him down. There was no doubt in his mind that the prosecutor would hate having his underling see him in his current state.
The next person he called was Maya, who had also insisted that he keep her updated. After telling her a little about Edgeworth and how he was doing, the conversation soon derailed into her scheming. She asked about what piece of furniture they could steal for the Wright and Co. Offices without Edgeworth noticing. Phoenix wondered if their constant ‘borrowing’ of items from crime scenes had turned his assistant into a kleptomaniac.
After finishing his calls, Phoenix took the stairs to Edgeworth’s bedroom to check in on him. Although he expected his friend to be asleep, he saw Edgeworth sitting up in his bed, staring distantly at the wall closest to him. Phoenix couldn’t quite put his finger on what seemed wrong in that picture, but Edgeworth appeared different than the day before. His eyes looked…a little duller.
“So you didn’t leave.” The other spoke without turning to him.
As Phoenix came up to the bed and took his seat on it, he stole a closer look at Edgeworth. The visible fever seemed to have settled down, but with the flush gone, the other’s skin was left looking too pale.
“No. Honestly, I was also too tired to.” Phoenix eventually replied.
“‘Also’? You happen to have another reason to stay?”
Phoenix rolled his eyes playfully. Good old dense Edgeworth. “I’m not leaving until I know you're feeling better, and you won't be able to kick me out either.”
“I would never do something so rude, Wright.” Finally, Edgeworth turned to him. He was frowning less today. His expression was also a little glazed over, like he was either sleepy or too exhausted. “I…welcome your company. I actually rather appreciate it.”
Oh.
An honest Edgeworth was a little worrying.
“How are you feeling today?” Phoenix reached out and put the back of his hand against the other's forehead. He couldn't really get a read on his temperature with the warmed-up patch in the way.
In response, Edgeworth seemed to lean his head in, settling against his palm. His friend hummed softly.
“I’m not sure, but I'm not getting chills as I did yesterday.” Phoenix felt some relief hearing it. He carefully peeled off the cooling patch. “Let’s remove these then re-measure your temperature, okay?” Edgeworth proceeded to nod, shockingly compliant.
He did nod, but he remained still. The prosecutor didn't make any move to remove the patches himself.
It was the first moment out of all their interactions since yesterday that Phoenix felt self-conscious.
“Do you need any help…?” He tried. Edgeworth tilted his head at him questioningly. The other really did look tired, as if he hadn’t gotten any real rest. Phoenix started gathering that Edgeworth was likely not as lucid as he had been the previous day. Wanting to make the best decision, Phoenix steeled himself. “Okay, nevermind. It's fine.”
He did it himself. He undid two buttons, which was enough to remove the patches they had placed under Edgeworth’s clothes. Phoenix also slid the pajama sleeves off his shoulders to remove the ones there. The last piece that remained was the patch on the back of Edgeworth's neck.
Phoenix was being careful, really, not wishing to make Edgeworth uncomfortable or make it seem as though he was uncomfortable himself. It wouldn't be any different from the easy interaction they had the previous day, where he managed to even make Edgeworth smile despite his embarrassment.
But as he stared down at the back of his friend's neck, holding the end of the patch, a weight pressed against his chest.
Then, arms wrapped around his torso and almost knocked any comprehensive thought out of his brain.
“U-uh, Edgeworth?!” Phoenix stammered. He was suspended halfway between sitting and hovering after Edgeworth hugged him. The only response he got was the other shaking his head stubbornly.
“Are you okay?! Y-you don't usually…” Phoenix halted the sentence. He quickly realized that he had to stop being ridiculous. Edgeworth wanted a hug, and his friend was already terribly awkward with that kind of thing. It didn't matter that he was half-dressed and clinging to his torso instead of really hugging him. He couldn't make Edgeworth feel weird about it.
So he sat back down and saw Edgeworth still holding on. While begging his heart to slow, Phoenix returned the gesture and put his arms around his friend’s back.
It was a strange feeling. Holding Edgeworth felt nothing like it did the day before. That previous time, Phoenix had been expressing his affection through that hug. He had wanted Edgeworth to feel cared for and appreciated. This time, it was Edgeworth who was expressing a feeling to him. The prosecutor was expressing……–Phoenix could not will his heart to slow down long enough to tell.
“It weighs on my conscience, Wright.” Edgeworth quietly spoke. The words pressed against his chest, muffling themselves into his shirt. “How much I…anticipate your kindness. How unreasonably happy it makes me.”
Phoenix listened, speechless. He watched Edgeworth lift his head and gaze back at him. The tiredness in his eyes conveyed something so incomprehensibly soft it felt as if the other was for once…bare.
And that was all it took. There was no way for Phoenix to keep a lid on his feelings when he was being presented with an idea so overwhelming.
“Don’t…don't let yourself feel bad about it! Edgeworth, really!!” He grasped his friend’s shoulders and held firmly. Phoenix was sure that his own face looked feverish, if not tomato red. “I’m happy to help you! I-I’m always really happy when you put your trust in me this much… It–” It registered a moment too late that Edgeworth was still half-dressed, and that the hands on Edgeworth’s shoulders were touching skin instead of clothes. It also really, seriously did not help that the tips of Edgeworth’s ears were red and that the prosecutor was singularly focused on staring between his eyes and his lips.
Phoenix willed his heart to slow again. It didn’t.
“Miles, listen.” Nervously averting his gaze, Phoenix searched for his clarity of thought. With his mind repeating Miles, Miles, Miles, he couldn't concentrate, but he couldn’t allow the mood that had fallen into the room to take over them. Not now. Not like this.
A steady breath, then a moment later, he found his voice.
“Whatever you have weighing on your mind, I will be happy to listen and work through it with you once you’re feeling better.” Because it wasn’t right to let Edgeworth talk about things he wasn’t ready to express, and later have him wallow in regret. It also wasn’t right to let himself revel in seeing this vulnerability. “You’re sick, and sick people don’t need to focus on anything other than getting better. Does that sound right to you?” Phoenix stole a glance. Edgeworth had gone back to frowning. The discontented pull of the prosecutor’s lips allured him so…–
Edgeworth started buttoning his shirt. The act seemed to suddenly break the mood covering the room, as if it had been intentionally created by it from the beginning. Phoenix stared in confusion, the pieces barely finding time to fall into place before Edgeworth broke the silence.
“...Do sick people also get to make any demands they wish?”
Phoenix felt worried about the sound of that question, so he smiled sheepishly. “Within reason.”
“I see.”
“...”
Phoenix sat back, putting a comfortable distance between them. He did hope that his face wasn’t still bright red.
“Phoenix Wright, make me breakfast.” The prosecutor spoke solemnly.
“Huh?”
“And run me a bath after. I require a change of clothes, but I shall fetch those myself. On the topic, you should change your clothes too. You have a stain on your shirt.”
“Wait, I do?!” Phoenix patted himself down. Sure enough, a splatter stain he got from pouring the soup the day before decorated his shirt.
But putting that aside, Phoenix was growing a little regretful of his open generosity.
“Why are you hesitating?” Edgeworth’s tone sounded entirely too smug. “I thought you claimed to enjoy helping me?” Phoenix wondered when Prosecutor Edgeworth had entered the room.
“Alriiight~” He agreed, letting out a tired sigh. Phoenix first reached for the drawer and brought the thermometer they wanted to use. “Let me at least confirm that your fever is gone.”
“Odd for you to say, seeing that you seem to doubt my clarity of mind.” Phoenix didn’t miss how annoyed Edgeworth sounded, even vindictive. He pressed the thermometer button and might have shoved it in his friend’s mouth a bit too forcefully as a distraction.
Edgeworth scolded him enough afterwards that it seemed like it worked.
98.7 degrees was normal body temperature as far as Phoenix was concerned. He let out a sigh of relief and finally rose to his feet. Breakfast and a bath, either was easy enough to do. Before leaving, he reached into his pocket.
“Now, before I forget.” He threw Edgeworth’s phone over to its owner. His friend made a startled sound as he fumbled to catch it. It landed unceremoniously on his lap.
“Your uh, sister…? Von Karma. She called and told me to get you to call her back.”
“Wright, why did you have my phone??”
“Anyways, off I go!” He waved and spun around with the door falling shut behind him.
On the other side, Phoenix took a moment to exhale a deep breath.
At least 5 years were shaved off his life inside that bedroom.
Making Edgeworth breakfast wasn’t a hassle when he didn’t seem to mind eating the same thing as the day before. The bigger problem was the prosecutor asking for tea following it, and Phoenix having to peruse his friend’s ridiculous tea cabinet for a clove blend…? It ended up smelling nice as he was brewing it, at least.
But Phoenix soon started feeling like a maid as he sat in Edgeworth’s bathroom, watching warm water fill the extravagant bathtub while he added some bath salts. He had also grabbed towels and a bathrobe. It felt somewhat surprising to him that the tub wasn’t already a self-heating type, though maybe that meant Edgeworth was more of a shower type of guy.
But that was enough thinking about Edgeworth with water running down his hair. Phoenix rubbed his temples tiredly.
Instead, he wanted to think about water running down his own hair. He did feel a little gross and wished he could clean up.
“Wright, take this.” Something landed on Phoenix’s face. After a surprised ‘Agh!’, he took a look and saw a dress shirt and a nice pair of slacks in his hands. “They’re already ironed. You can use the guest bathroom.” Edgeworth added.
Phoenix gaped, disbelieving.
“Edgeworth…? I think we should get you to a doctor.”
“Huh?!” The other flinched, as if caught red-handed.
“Telepathy is not a regular symptom of the flu!”
“Wright, what does that even mean??!”
Letting out a laugh, Phoenix closed the tab and haphazardly folded the clothes in his arms. “I’m just messing with you.” Edgeworth glanced away, showing his discontentment.
“You seem to be adamant on doing so today.” Phoenix wondered just how many people could claim to have seen Prosecutor Edgeworth sulking.
“My bad, okay?” He passed by his friend and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Doing so earned him a glare, so he stepped away with an airy chuckle. “Call or yell if you want any help, okay? I’ll be out of the bathroom in a few minutes.”
“Why would I need help in the bathroom?” Edgeworth replied sharply.
“You never know.” Phoenix delivered it with a wink. He proceeded to close the door.
…
…
Phoenix immediately regretted what he said. It came out dirtier than he intended. He hurried off while cursing his impulsiveness. Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of that door, Edgeworth had shrunken into a ball, saddled with the most distressing of feelings.
Showering did take very little time, but adjusting his appearance was a bit more of a meticulous process. With none of the usual products and only some balm to use, Phoenix’s hair refused to take the shape he wanted it to and stay in place. In the end, gravity emerged victorious, letting his hair sit slicked back and tickle his nape.
Looking in the mirror, it was apparent that the clothes Edgeworth wore were of a different league. Pushing past the quality, which was obviously better than anything he could ever hope to buy, the shirt settled comfortably against his skin, neat yet breathable. The shirt also smelled really nice. It wasn’t cologne—not even the expensive kind Edgeworth wore that smelled faintly sweet like raspberries. It was a soft scent Phoenix came to assume was detergent. The idea of Edgeworth lounging around his home smelling like roses was unsurprising, all things considered…
Phoenix exited the bathroom while suppressing a yawn. The thought of taking a nap crossed his mind, but he put it off until Edgeworth was out of the bathroom. He took a seat on a chair and gave the room a once-over instead.
So pristine.
And so deathly quiet.
The defence lawyer was so not used to silence, not when he spent over 12 hours in an office rumbling with TV noise and Maya’s excited chattering. Larry came over. Even Gumshoe dropped by often. Phoenix rarely found a moment to himself in his space.
Perhaps both he and Edgeworth lacked some sort of balance. Phoenix liked the idea of sharing a sample of the noise in his life in exchange for some of this comforting silence. It could do them both good.
The sound that pulled him out of his thoughts was the slam of a door from upstairs.
“Edgeworth?!” When Phoenix came in through the bedroom door, he found Edgeworth grabbing the doorway to the bathroom with one hand and clutching his chest with the other. Wearing a bathrobe, the prosecutor seemed to have barely taken one step into the bedroom before the illness stole his breath. Every cough that ripped itself out of his throat produced a sound that made Phoenix shudder. “Edgeworth!”
Even while standing next to him and reaching out, Phoenix blanked on what or how he could help the other. Though he didn’t know how to prevent a coughing fit, he knew that it was a bad idea to let it run its course.
He grabbed water and tried to get Edgeworth to drink, but the other shook his head insistently, almost desperately refusing. Phoenix tried talking him down with any comforting words that came to mind, but it frustratingly did little to help. When all he could do was rub his friend’s back and wait for him to calm down, the two of them gradually sank to the floor, sitting opposite one another.
It took a painfully long time for the coughing to let up, and it left Edgeworth heaving. Phoenix noticed how the corners of his eyes looked wet, and though he assumed it was just a consequence of exertion, he quickly found Edgeworth wiping his face with trembling breaths. Phoenix couldn’t see him crying, but he wasn’t so oblivious as to miss the cues.
He started gently. “Hey, this cough…I really don’t like how it sounds. I think you should go to the hospital.” Phoenix reached out, carefully placing a reassuring hand on Edgeworth’s arm, but the other unexpectedly shook him off.
“Don’t.”
Phoenix hesitated. It was his first time in years hearing his friend’s voice become wobbly and small. Oddly, the sound seemed to make his eyes sting.
“Why not? Look, I know you’re taking your medicine, but I don’t think you just have the flu anymore. It could be–”
“Phoenix.”
The rest of his thoughts came to a halt. Spoken between the tremble of a sob, his given name sounded so foreign to him.
“Miles…?”
With Edgeworth’s response being another pained sound, his emotions were further stirred. Phoenix knew that his very nature pushed him to empathize with those in need, but he didn’t remember ever feeling physically ripped apart by their suffering. He usually had a better handle on his investment in other people’s pain, separating it from his own.
Yet during this, he wasn’t sure why, but any breath he drew grew short and left his chest feeling painfully tight.
“H-hey, Miles.” Phoenix tried reaching out again. He moved his trembling hands as carefully as he could and guided them toward Edgeworth’s. Those hands sat like a barrier, keeping him from seeing the other’s face. When he touched them, hearing a single cough made his heart drop, but it didn’t follow into another fit. Surprisingly, Edgeworth also didn’t shake him off.
Phoenix brought them away. One gradual movement after the other, Edgeworth’s face came into view.
Phoenix's breath caught. The worry cramming his chest seemed to take that exact moment to squeeze his heart as painfully as it could, leaving him distraught. “Miles…” Edgeworth looked miserable. Ridden with sickness for that long, the cause of the other’s pain was far more likely to be the exhaustion and weakness he had to suffer through for two whole weeks. Trouble eating, sleeping, they would be taxing on anybody, especially someone dealing with them all in his lonesome.
In Phoenix’s mind, it was a worse reason to cry than regular sadness.
He kept using his thumbs to wipe tears off Edgeworth's face. When they continued to fall, he tried saying any reassuring words he could think of. When neither ‘It’s okay’ nor ‘I’m sorry’ worked and Edgeworth turned away—a gesture to hide from him—Phoenix hesitantly leaned in and pressed his lips against his temple.
The strain clinging to the prosecutor’s expression seemed to melt off right in the next moment, and as though this action had broken something between them, Phoenix found Edgeworth inching closer. There was warm breath hitting the bridge of his nose, and a hand wrapping around his own. Silent tears continued to roll down Edgeworth’s face, but as though Phoenix had also found a cure, he leaned in and pressed his lips against each eyelid.
Pulling back to find Edgeworth drawing steadier breaths, he placed another on his forehead. The rise and fall of the other’s chest began to even.
Finally, he brought Edgeworth against his rapidly beating heart and held him firmly. After what could have been minutes or even hours, the prosecutor grew motionless with the pull of sleep.
Phoenix did end up needing to call Gumshoe over, seeing that someone needed to give them a ride. It was unexpected to see how compliant Edgeworth became after he woke up; letting Phoenix put a long, warm coat around him and lead him down the stairs, even usher him into the car and sit next to him while waiting to see the doctor. The prosecutor didn't give a single objection.
Edgeworth was soon admitted to the hospital, and he would stay there for a few days as he recovered from the lung infection he had contracted. Phoenix had already drawn his conclusions from the terrible sound of the other’s cough, so he hadn’t been surprised by the diagnosis. Still, it pained him to know that recovery wouldn't come any time soon.
A few days later, at an evening visit he managed to get permission for, Phoenix sat on the chair next to the hospital bed and watched Edgeworth stare absentmindedly out the window.
His friend looked much better, his face regaining color, and the discomfort in his expression having eased. Still, the somberness that had accompanied his gaze the entire duration of his illness hadn't faded.
“Was there a reason why you kept putting off going to the hospital?” Phoenix voiced his thoughts.
Despite the initial silence, he knew that Edgeworth had acknowledged his question. The prosecutor was taking time to consider his answer. Phoenix could tell by the stiff, thoughtful line his mouth had formed.
“I don't remember falling sick often in my younger years. But whenever I did, or even when Franziska would, Mr. von Karma would send us to the family doctor. After the visit, he would have us stay in the hospital for the complete duration of our recovery,” Edgeworth spoke slowly, explaining with care. “It could have been a simple cold that people managed at home, but even that meant staying for at least a week.” He lowered his eyes toward his lap. His hands fiddled with the blanket. “I could tell that the nurses grew exasperated. They looked after us, but only because of the favor Mr. von Karma had with the hospital’s director. Eventually...it started feeling as though I was taking up space I didn’t need.”
Phoenix nodded. For the puzzle that was Edgeworth’s behavior during his illness, many of its pieces fell into place through that simple explanation. “Meaning that now, you don't have a reference for what's manageable at home and what isn't.”
Edgeworth shook his head with a small, humorless smile. “Yes, and my lungs paid the price for it.”
Phoenix felt his heart breaking somewhat. Every piece of Edgeworth’s past he stumbled upon seemed to be coated in some form of tragedy, but his sympathy—or rather his pity—was something he knew the other didn’t want to receive. “There is a bright side we can look at. I asked the doctor, and he told me that you didn’t end up with any scarring. Considering how bad your cough was, I think we got lucky.” He offered a proper smile to offset Edgeworth’s sad one.
His friend glanced his way, somewhat cautiously, then averted his eyes as he replied.
“‘We’ did, is it?”
Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, we, because I would be pretty sad if you couldn’t recover completely.”
“I see.”
A pause. They were reaching the moment that Phoenix had been thinking about that entire week.
“Phoenix.” Edgeworth started, and somehow his heart still skipped a beat. “After I’m…recovered, would you mind sparing a day to...lend me your company?” Edgeworth loosely held his right elbow, hand flexing against the hospital gown. “I seem to have a lot to tell you, and a lot I wish to inquire about.”
More silence followed, where Phoenix stared like a dumbass. The sound of his given name through Edgeworth’s mouth kept seeming as if it cast spells on him.
Puzzled, Edgeworth spoke with thinly veiled panic. “...did I misread the situation, Wright?”
He snapped out of his trance and hurriedly shook his head. "No!" After so, so many years, there was no way he was going to mess it up. He would have Maya whack him upside the head and just end him already if he messed up that chance.
“Absolutely not! You definitely didn’t! It’s a date Miles!” Phoenix didn’t need to put on a reassuring smile because he was already grinning like an idiot. It got worse as he saw Edgeworth blushing, troubled by his words.
“Jumping the gun now, are we, Phoenix?”
No prickly or standoffish response Edgeworth could give would discourage Phoenix in that moment. It definitely wouldn’t stop the ‘happily ever after’ images that merrily floated around in his head. The only thing stopping Phoenix from shouting out of the hospital room window in celebration was that he was a somewhat socially conscious, grown adult man.
“I’m not jumping the gun, Miles. It’s been seventeen years.”