He'd been waiting in the shadows of the room for only a few minutes at most. After hearing the office's occupant enter the room, Batman calmly stepped into the light that had just been turned on.
Documents in hand, he drew close to the desk, to set the papers down on it.
"This is more in depth information on Brother Blood. I have also come to inform you that I've asked a fellow Jutice League member to keep watch over you and Felicity. Just in case."
"Now, if I'm understanding this correctly, there was a jury system for a brief time... Is it no longer in effect?" Even before the question left her lips, Maribelle had been considering the options. In Ylisse, though it had been considered, a jury system had never once come into play in court. But part of her couldn't help but wonder if it would help in her ultimate goal.
Phoenix honestly didn't mean to go without an umbrella. In fact, the nine-year-old brought his with him when he'd gone to school today via bus. Unfortunately, though, on his typical walk hope, he'd managed to drop it -- and some other students who were passing by him stepped on it without any regard for his shouts. Even if he could find it again, it was likely broken beyond repair and, therefore, couldn't shield him from the torrent above him. The worst part was that this happened over half an hour ago, so he was practically drenched to the bone, and not even half-way home yet. No doubt his parents would question him on where the umbrella went. He hoped they wouldn't be too mad.
With the rain constantly hitting his face and the fact that he was nine and he usually didn't have to walk home by himself, Phoenix found himself treading sidewalks that, upon inspection in better weather, wouldn't have looked too familiar to him. Not that he would've cared much. Right now, he wouldn't care if the ground swallowed him; he was absolutely miserable, and nothing could stir it from him. Today in general had been an awful day and when he wanted to simply get it over with, whatever god was looking down upon him obviously didn't want to spare him any suffering. Any ending would've proven better than this.
After what felt like hours of trudging through but was really five minutes, Phoenix managed to find a bench that he could sit on to try to recover stamina, and it happened to have something similar to an awning attached to it, and he dragged himself over to it, tears already beginning to spring to his eyes. He should just curl up on this bench, rest here for the rest of forever, a dark thought for a nine year old but he didn't know what else to do. He was hopelessly lost without an umbrella and his parents had no idea where he was, and he didn't even have a phone to contact them with. There was no way he was going to get back home from here.
"What're you doing all the way out here?"
The voice, near to him, startled Phoenix, and he blinked up only to come face to face with wide eyes staring down at him and a familiar, round head. He was slightly shadowed by the rain but there was no mistaking him. Phoenix blinked rapidly.
"Oh, look at you," the other child continued, glancing him over with a disapproving gaze, "you're soaked!"
Phoenix looked down at himself. He was soaked. And pathetic. He shivered, shrinking back.
The child let out a sigh. "Come on. I have an umbrella. I can walk you home." Without waiting for a response from Phoenix, the other kid yanked him up to his feet, making him stumble a little bit, but the child was quick to steady him. Phoenix almost didn't move for a moment, just stunned that this kid was even here in the first place, but with a slow, quiet nod, he rubbed his face with the back of his hand.
All of this changed the pace of the day, mainly because of just who it was who found Phoenix, a child by the name of Miles Edgeworth. Suddenly, Phoenix didn't have a desire to melt into the ground and disappear. Suddenly, he didn't even want to go home.
Miles, on the other hand, was fully intent on getting him where he needed to be, and he didn't say silent their entire walk either. Much of it was trying to strike up conversation with Phoenix, usually along the lines of his father or class for the day. Phoenix nodded when appropriate, though he didn't respond much verbally. Not that Miles minded. Miles never seemed to mind when Phoenix was quiet, and that Phoenix appreciated. He just seemed to understand, as if he was better off with someone who would simply listen to him anyway. Whatever the reason, Miles never called him out for it.
It was amazing how simply seeing Miles once brightened up Phoenix's entire day. He didn't care that he was cold, wet, and awful. He noticed certain cracks within the sidewalk that he remembered passing by himself, and everything just seemed generally brighter. Miles didn't seem to notice it. Phoenix didn't mind that, though; he just kept staring either at the ground or at the boy beside him, holding his hand on the umbrella hook. Despite his initial assessment of the situation, Miles didn't pull away at Phoenix's wet hand. His mouth kept moving, and Phoenix kept watching it.
When sitting on a bench felt like hours, this felt like only five minutes passed by until he was close enough to his house's front porch to know the rest of the way there. Miles turned to him, and Phoenix could feel his heart sinking. "Well, here we are. You can go the rest of the way, right?"
Phoenix nodded. Miles made a motion to withdraw his umbrella.
"Wait."
Miles blinked at the sudden (albeit quiet) interjection. "What?"
This was it. Phoenix's chest felt like it was going to explode, but that wasn't going to stop him. The fluttering and the jitters made him slippery as he stood on the tips of his toes and met their lips ever so briefly.
"Thanks, Miles."
There sapped out all of Phoenix's courage that he forced into the gesture, and the boy quickly ducked out from underneath Miles's umbrella to head over to the porch. That was...probably a stupid move. He'd been told boys don't kiss. Boys didn't kiss, right? Hopefully, hopefully Miles would forget it by the next day.
He didn't notice Miles staring after him as he disappeared into the house.
There was no telling what the hell had gotten into Phoenix Wright, but it was certainly something.
Why? Well...
Him and Miles typically shared gentle, small kisses. They'd kiss all over each other's faces, but they were generally soft and angelic and all that. Phoenix was certainly taking this relationship slower than the one he'd had with Dahlia.
But there was just something that made Phoenix reach some sort of breaking point, because, come February 3rd, and as of right that moment, suddenly Phoenix did it. He grabbed Miles...
...and dragged him in, meeting their lips in a rather rough kiss, completely different from those of their normal nature.
(Of course, it'd have to be a night when I'm sleeping over. What kind of impression is it going to leave on him when I'm practically tripping over myself the next morning?) He sighed. (Certainly stellar. And I couldn't just right say that I had trouble sleeping because that would bring in an awkward conversation and questions I can't answer. I don't even know why I can't sleep.)
Maybe it had to do with his anxiety with cases lately. That would make sense; such a thing kept him up even when he slept in his own bed. Not that that was happening very often lately, anyway. It almost seemed like a good idea to just move in here. If it weren't for his ragtag group of defense attorneys, he probably just would've stayed here all day and wouldn't have bothered biking back and forth between households.
Phoenix's head twisted so that his gaze caught the sight of Miles, sleeping peacefully. He noticed, sometimes, that Miles was troubled in his sleep, but he didn't bring it up with him during the day, at least not most of the time. He tried to convince himself that Miles would talk to him about it when he was ready. But what if Miles was never ready? What if even if he was, he still refused to tell him because of how long he'd had to live coping with hiding all of his imperfections? Yes, the other man had been getting better with that recently, but there was no doubt in Phoenix's mind that it plagued him to a degree even now.
He frowned. So much thinking and his brain was tired, unable to process it. He wished that it wasn't bothering him right now. He couldn't make much sense of it. Couldn't come up with any conclusions. And quite frankly if he deliberated too much on it, it would certainly prevent him from sleeping. He worried and fretted too much. He knew it, but he couldn't help it.
(What love does to you.)
How long had he even loved this man for, anyway? Years. Years it must've been and it hadn't faded at all. He wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of it. Ever since he was nine he adored this man, and it'd only intensified as time passed, and Phoenix didn't regret that at all. If anything, he felt shame for losing hope it would go anywhere. How wrong he'd been. If he'd only realized sooner, he would've never risked his heart with that she-devil of a woman at all.
... Phoenix wasn't going to waste his time thinking about Dahlia Hawthorne. Miles was here, now, in front of him. Sleeping peacefully. Phoenix noted that when Miles did manage to sleep he slept like a rock. It was kind of cute, in a way.
He smiled softly, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and brushed his lips over Miles's forehead. That was another thing that Phoenix didn't regret; all the shows of affection. He noticed the more that he did that, the more that Miles left his shell. Phoenix would give him a million kisses if it made him more confident, made him feel better about himself, and gave him more reasons to live. He'd happily walk on coals, burning ones, at that, for this man for crying out loud. Miles probably never truly understood his complete devotion for him. But Phoenix did not, and would not ever let himself, regret it.
He settled back into the blankets and let a sigh pass his lips once more. Maybe he could return to staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes and get at least an hour's worth more of sleep. Then Miles wouldn't have to ask him or worry about anything in the morning. Hell knew, Miles had enough to fret over in his life.
