Hello Nihhon! I hope you don't mind, but I wrote a story based on one of your lovely Phoenix and Edgeworth comics. It's called "Light the Sky" and is posted over on AO3. Thank you for the inspiration, and I hope you enjoy it.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!IS IT MY BIRTHDAY AND ALSO CHRISTMASthat was so SO SO LOVELY AND AMAZING!! I AM GENUENLY GONNA CRYyou just took my personal favourite scene for these two aND TURNED IT INTO SUCH AN AMAZING WORK ILY thank you so much for writing this, i literally had to make pauses while reading bECAUSE I HAD TO SCREAM THAT’S SO AMAZINGaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Show me anything domestic that features my favorite pairing, and I’m 120% for it.
I don’t know if this is a trope, but I love scenes where two characters are in bed and there’s a moment of quiet. It feels like there’s so much that can convey the relationship between characters in that short span of time, like small gestures of caring, idle conversation, or even passive proximity.
For some reason, birthdays also seem to come back whenever I plan and/or write (despite my not particularly caring about birthdays in real life) so I think they must be something I like the concept of!
I think most of my favorite fandom tropes (in relation to ships, since that’s what I’m most active with) can be summed up as things that can occur given depth of intimacy.
She's been going through some stuff, she's moved to and from a faraway country, and I haven't had a whole lot of contact with her!! The last I heard from her was summer of 2020. I miss her very much. Please keep supporting her work; it means a lot to her! 💖💖💖
This chapter--all of them, really, but especially this one--is dedicated to @prospectkiss, who has been everything to me from a muse to a friend to a big sister. I love you, and I hope you like this conclusion to the story! <3333
Thanks also to @oneguardalwaystellsthetruth, who beta’d this story and without whom it never would have been finished. Thank you so much!
I have a Patreon and a Ko-fi! Support is greatly appreciated as always. This new year will be the one I start trying to write my own original stories again, so wish me luck!
Also available on Ao3.
Previous chapters can be found here:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Here we go, then!
Chapter Six
Twelfth Night, 2.3.41-4
Miles didn't know how he had ever fooled himself into thinking otherwise. The way he walked was Wright, all shoulders back and a kind of endearing swagger which quickly crumpled into hunched shoulders and bent spine in defeat or weariness. The way he spoke was Wright, emphasized t's and p's that reverberated around the auditorium as well as they had in the courtroom, and a mesmerizing rhythm that left you hanging on every word. The way he smiled was Wright, crinkling at the corners of his eyes and one half of his mouth lifting a little higher than the other. He couldn't be anyone but Phoenix.
How had he been blind for so long? Perhaps he had wanted to see someone else up there on the stage because he felt that Wright belonged... somewhere he could no longer be.
But no, he hadn't exactly been blind either. As soon as he'd locked eyes with him that first day, he'd been stricken with the similarity. It was something he couldn't ignore, even subconsciously.
He always was terrible at ignoring Wright.
Now that he was watching the play with a new understanding of its star, he was able to appreciate different things about the performance. It was no wonder Phoenix captured people’s attention in a courtroom—he walked the line between humility and pride with a grace few had ever achieved.
Miles had thought all day about how he planned to broach the subject with him. He had pondered it over his paperwork, agonized about it during his administrative duties, and deliberated during his documentation. It had to be private. It had to be gentle. But Wright had to know how he felt about this deception. Miles had to make things clear.
Why had Phoenix done it? That was the question he kept coming back to. Wright didn’t have a malicious bone in his body, so it obviously hadn’t been to manipulate him. No, Phoenix’s actions were motivated almost entirely by emotion. He was doing this to protect himself, somehow. And Miles intended to get to the bottom of exactly how.
Still, for the moment at hand, Miles allowed himself to sit back and take in the last performance he would ever see of Will Shakes. He was, after all, a dazzling sight to behold, no matter what name he wore.
***
Miles was waiting for him when the cast had taken its final bow.
"Hey, Miles!" said Will, sauntering up to him as if he wasn't actually Miles's closest friend. "Enjoy the show tonight as well?"
"Yes," Miles replied. "I found it enlightening to view things with a changed perspective."
He looked a bit confused, his eyebrows drawing together. “A changed perspective?" Was it Miles's imagination, or did the actor already seem a little wary?
Miles nodded in answer. "Will, I'd like to talk to you once everyone has gone, if that's all right.” It was best to get straight to the point, Miles thought.
He looked around, as if looking for approval, or perhaps an escape. "Um, we've got a post-show cast party, but we do that after every show, and the only one I can't really miss is the one on closing night, so..." He returned his slightly nervous gaze to Miles now and offered a half-smile. "Sure, okay. Uh... Wh-what's the occasion?..."
"I wish to tell you in more detail what I thought of the performance." It wasn't untrue. He just wasn't going to be talking about the performance as Prospero.
The other man's face lit up, and the tension left his posture. "Oh, is that so?" He rubbed the back of his head, unwittingly making his wig a bit lopsided. "Well all right. I look forward to that." He threw himself in the seat next to Miles then. "Until everyone clears out, is it okay if I sit here?"
Miles only replied with a stiff nod, uncomfortably aware that they were sitting in the very seats they had occupied in his dream.
And so they sat together in companionable, if somewhat awkward, silence as the other actors and audience members hugged one another and exchanged excited words and chattered about the show and about life, both on the stage and off. Several times, other cast members approached Miles’s friend and offered him words of congratulations and support, affectionate shoulder claps and hugs, but he always returned to his seat afterward. The man next to Miles looked as if he wanted to say something to him once or twice, glancing over at Miles out of the corner of his eye and opening his mouth, but every time, he closed it again and returned his gaze to his hands, which were folded in his lap.
After what seemed quite a long time, they were the only two left in the theater, and nearly all the lights had been shut off, save for a single set still illuminating the stage—another detail seemingly prophesied by his dream. Miles wasn't sure if they were even supposed to be here now, sitting alone in a theater that was obviously closing for the night, but both a theater worker and a janitor had happened by and had merely given Miles's companion a respectful nod before shuffling on, so the prosecutor supposed it must be all right.
"This private enough for you?" the actor finally said into the silence. His voice, though not raised, reverberated slightly in the empty room.
"Yes, quite," Miles replied. He kept his eyes trained firmly ahead. “Will, I have become aware of a certain truth, one which I have been looking away from until recently.”
Miles thought he saw him sit up straighter, suddenly. “You have?”
The prosecutor nodded. “Yes. You are a pleasure to watch on the stage, it’s true, but I find I cannot bear to see you on the stage any longer.”
It was as if Miles had slapped him. The actor started, and his face was rapidly falling into something that looked like heartbreak as Miles met his wide blue eyes. “Oh… Um…” The words had emerged as a choked murmur, so he cleared his throat and averted his eyes before continuing. “Wh-What… what do you mean?...”
“I cannot see Will Shakes up on the stage anymore,” Miles said resolutely. “This will be the last time I ever see Will Shakes.”
The other man’s eyes fell closed, his brows drawing together. He looked devastated. “I understand,” he said, and then looked Miles in the eyes, his own searching the prosecutor’s face desperately. “Can I… Can I ask why?… Is it… what I did yesterday?...”
Miles shook his head. “I cannot see Will Shakes up on stage anymore,” he continued, “because all I can see is you… Phoenix.”
A long silence passed, long enough that Miles thought for one wild second that he had perhaps been wrong about everything. But then the actor was launching himself out of his chair—which made an alarmed sort of screeching noise as usual—and backing away, appearing somewhat dazed. “Y...You… What did you just call me?”
“Phoenix,” Miles repeated, not taking his eyes off him. “I know it is you.”
A sound caught halfway between a gasp of pain and an incredulous laugh burst out of him. “Of course,” he said. Miles blinked in surprise. However he had expected Wright to react, this had not been it. “Of course you knew it was me...” He yanked off his wig with rather more force than he needed to use, and let it fall to the ground, running his hand through his uncovered spikes now fretfully. “Well!” he said with a sort of false bravado. “I suppose you’ve got a lot to say about this.” He flung his arms wide, as if inviting arrows to strike him. “Go ahead.” Miles only knew how frightened he was by the slight quiver of the other man’s mouth.
He didn’t answer for a bit. “It’s true that I have a lot to ask you,” he finally said. “But Phoenix, I want you to know that I’m not angry.”
Phoenix shook his head like Miles wasn’t following the script, covering his face with his hand and muttering to himself for a moment. “Well why not?!” he burst out at last, the loud words echoing slightly, his hand falling to his side again. “I lied to you!”
“Technically, you never did lie to me,” said Miles, and then frowned at himself. Why was he the one pointing this out?
“Oh, great,” Phoenix groaned, turning on his heel. “I guess I technically don’t feel bad, then.” Miles wasn’t a big fan of the sarcasm, but this behavior was so far out of the other man’s usual that he let it pass without comment. Phoenix climbed the steps to the stage, seemingly only to have a larger area to pace anxiously, which was what he was doing now. “I mean, how long have you known?” he went on, voice low and hurried.
“I think some part of me always knew,” Miles answered thoughtfully, “but certainly I only became more sure as time went on.” Somehow, he thought it might be troublesome to mention that he had always recognized Phoenix’s eyes.
“Great,” Phoenix said again. “Guess I’m not as good an actor as I thought, huh?” But before Miles could protest, Phoenix was throwing another question his way: “Why did you keep letting me make an idiot out of myself?”
“I could ask that same question of you as well, you know.” Miles got out of his chair and walked closer to the stage, watching Phoenix storm up and down it.
He did stop a moment at that, his spine straightening. “I… I was never trying to make an idiot out of you,” he said, his shoulders falling as if letting the fight drain out of him. “I just...” Miles saw his fists clench, though his back was to the prosecutor. “Sometimes I got tired of being Phoenix Wright, you know? Of letting everyone down. Of being a disgrace.”
Miles felt a frown form instantly on his face. “Phoenix...” he said warningly.
“No, it’s true, all right?!” Phoenix resumed pacing, even more agitated than before. “Don’t deny it. I messed up, and this is what I’ve got to deal now.” He pulled at his tattered Prospero costume. “It’s stupid, but… I thought maybe if I just… wore a different identity for a while, I’d feel like a different person. And it worked!” He turned to face Miles. “...Sometimes, anyway.” A sigh left him in a whoosh. “And then… you came in.” The words would have been insulting, except he said them as if he were saying ‘and then the sun came up’ instead.
The prosecutor nodded to encourage him to continue. “Why didn’t you want me to know it was you?”
“I did!” he exclaimed, and then, a little more subdued, “...At first. But then you didn’t recognize me, and...” Perhaps it was the glow of the single set of lights overhead, but Miles thought he saw Phoenix’s cheeks darken just the slightest bit. “I don’t know, I… felt like maybe this was my chance.”
“Your chance?” Miles crossed his arms. “For what?”
“To…!” He gritted his teeth, cutting himself off, and tried again: “To start over. With this.” He reluctantly paused his pacing again and faced Miles. “With you.”
“I don’t understand,” said Miles, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you need to start over with me?”
“Geez,” muttered Phoenix, covering his face with his hand briefly and heaving a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with it. “Okay. Look.” He dropped his hand, a resigned expression on his face. “I’ve… been really messed up ever since...” He shrugged. “Well, you know. And your support has been so important to me. But...” His eyes dropped to somewhere around Miles’s left shoulder rather than his face now. “Remember when I said I started to feel ashamed?”
That still made a pang resonate in Miles’s heart. That he should feel ashamed for simply seeking support… but then, he supposed it was rather hypocritical to expect others to reach out when they needed it, when he himself was legendarily inadequate at the task. “Yes, I remember.”
“Well, I guess it was kind of like that. When I saw you look at me like…” He rubbed the back of his head, the spikes quickly regaining their shape despite having been buried under a wig for hours before. “...Like I was someone special… I guess I didn’t want that to end right away.”
“You are someone special,” Miles insisted, walking closer to the stage, “just as you are.”
Phoenix only snorted, turning away again.
“I’m not joking.” Miles’s voice was firm, almost admonishing.
“I know, but it’s pretty funny anyway,” said the other man, though his voice held no mirth. “Real talents don’t let their entire lives get ruined with one stupid mistake.” He whirled on his heel and spread his arms wide, indicating his own costume. “I mean, maybe I wasn’t even supposed to be a lawyer, Miles! I only became one for you!” The admission sent something that was equal parts happiness and regret surging through Miles’s chest. Phoenix slumped, and the tattered clothing added to the defeated aura he exuded. “So… if it’s not even what I do best… why does it feel like I’ve lost everything?”
“It was important to you. You are allowed to grieve,” Miles replied, and really, he ought to take his own advice once in a while. “And no matter your reasoning for becoming one, you are an excellent attorney.” It was only natural that he would feel bereft, having had something that took up the greater portion of his life stripped away from him in an instant.
“Don’t you mean ‘were’?” Phoenix challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Miles didn’t back down. He narrowed his eyes, making his gaze as steely as possible. “No,” he said. “I do not.”
Phoenix stared for a moment, deep blue searching Miles’s resolute stance. At last, he averted his eyes. “Look, I just...” A hand came up to massage the spot between his brows, and his words were suddenly small, fragile. “Being around you the way I was… I just wasn’t… good enough. But that changed when you met Will.” His hands, down by his sides again, clenched, and Miles could just barely see them shaking. “Seeing you… watching me like I was someone worth watching… I… I couldn’t lose that.” His voice, which had been so resonant and powerful a scant hour ago, was now so faint it could scarcely be heard. “I couldn’t lose…” He screwed his eyes shut, and wouldn’t finish the sentence the way Miles knew it was supposed to be finished: I couldn’t lose you.
“Hmph,” said the prosecutor. Only Phoenix Wright could lay himself so low even as Miles looked up to him, this time quite literally. “You’re an idiot.”
“I...” Phoenix sighed. “I know. If you never want to see me again, I’ll unders—”
“No,” Miles cut him off, striding towards him on the stage after having climbed the wooden steps as Phoenix had done. The actor appeared surprised at Miles’s entrance from stage left, as he merely watched Miles approach for a moment. His steps were measured, determined. “I mean, for not thinking you are worth watching,” he went on. “You have always been.”
“I...” But Phoenix didn’t appear to have words beyond that, because he merely shook his head.
“Phoenix,” Miles continued, taking slow steps all the while, “you never had to be anyone other than who you are.” He had wanted to say this to him for so long, though his own foolish uncertainty had always held him back. But right now, Phoenix needed him. He needed to know that Miles was here, that he had always been here, and that his friend had never been in danger of losing him. “Please… no more acting.” Miles stopped, a mere three feet from the man who had been alone on the stage. “Let me stand at your side... with no stage between us.” He set his mouth in a firm line, refusing to allow the slight flush that was threatening to spread across his face. He held his breath, and waited.
Phoenix was staring at him in astonishment, his blue eyes bright under the stage lights. “I’m… I’m not sure if I still know how to just be me anymore,” he admitted in a soft voice, dropping his gaze. “But… I guess if there was anyone who remembered who I really am… it’d be you.” Miles caught the glimpse of something shining on his cheek for just an instant before Phoenix had brought up a sleeve to wipe it away. “Shit...” he muttered. “Promised myself I wouldn’t ever cry in front of you...” Miles opened his mouth to tell him that he needn’t worry over such things, but fell silent when the other man drew in a deep breath.
“Um… I don’t want anything between us either,” Phoenix spoke up, moving one shoulder in a half-shrug. “You… can stand wherever you want.” He met Miles’s eyes then, and were he not used to it, the prosecutor might have stumbled to see the warmth in them, the sheer affection coloring that ocean blue. “‘Come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go,’” he quoted. A smile spread across his face, a shy one Miles had never seen before. “...Sorry. I guess some part of me will always be an actor.”
Miles found a smile had crept up on his own face as well. “Good,” he said. “You’re too good at it to let it go to waste.” Had Phoenix really just said that he adored him? He didn’t dare stop to think about it at the moment.
Phoenix just laughed, and made a sniffling sound as he turned his face away and brought a hand up to wipe his eyes again briefly.
Why was this man hiding his pain even now, his eyes shut and refusing to look at the support that had always been right here for him? It was maddening, and Miles suddenly decided that he couldn’t bear it anymore. Carefully, slowly, as if the other were a flighty wild animal, Miles stepped into his friend’s space, until they were mere inches apart, and raised his own hand.
Phoenix started and froze in place, his eyes flying open wide as Miles reached out to brush his thumb across Phoenix’s cheekbone under his eye, brushing away a stray tear. The expression on Phoenix’s face was wonder and doubt and confusion and fear and hope all mingled in one, his eyes moving over Miles’s face. Miles didn’t know what to do but let his forehead meet the former defense attorney’s with a soft bump. Phoenix’s eyes went a bit crossed, never leaving Miles’s own.
His heart pounding, incredulous at his own boldness, Miles’s hand moved then to the back of Phoenix’s head, feeling spikes that weren’t spiky at all but were soft, pliable. He was amazed that Phoenix hadn’t shied away yet. He was even more amazed that he himself hadn’t either. All this time of being unable to reach out and touch him, and now it seemed so… easy. Natural, as if this had been in the script all along.
“Phoenix,” was all he got out before Phoenix was surging forward to kiss him, and they didn’t need any more words beyond that.
Miles’s first thought was that it tasted like salt. Phoenix had moved on impulse, and seemed just as surprised as Miles that their lips were touching now, taking in a sharp breath. But when Miles’s fingers tightened their hold on the back of Phoenix’s head, he pressed against Miles’s mouth more deliberately, leaning into the touch. Miles wondered how many kisses Phoenix had had onstage—and how many off—and if any of them had ever felt like what Miles was feeling right now, his heart soaring and plunging at every movement of their lips.
When Miles drew back, Phoenix chased his lips, moving his head towards him as if wondering where the warmth had gone, and the prosecutor couldn’t help but oblige him by pressing their lips together for just a second more. He brought his hand down from the back of Phoenix’s hand to cradle his cheek, still feeling slight dampness against his palm. His thumb stroked his cheekbone, an imitation of what he had done earlier, and just as before, Phoenix’s eyes opened to meet his.
Unlike before, however, the expression Phoenix was making now was one of pure joy. His eyes sparkled, and a smile slowly spread from ear to ear.
“‘Diana’s lip is not more smooth and rubious,’” he murmured in a low voice.
Half of Miles’s mouth quirked up in an answering smile. “No more Shakespeare right now,” he requested.
“Sorry,” said Phoenix. “I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Then I’ll stop your mouth with a kiss,” Miles said.
“Hey,” Phoenix said, his brow furrowing, “that was more Shakespeare t—”
But Miles was already kissing him again, and Phoenix didn’t seem to think his protest was important enough to interrupt.
***
True to his word, Miles never saw Will Shakes perform again. Instead, Phoenix Wright was the star of every show, even if Miles was the only one calling him that.
There was, however, one more person who knew the actor’s secret.
“Was it hard?” he asked the nine-year-old next to him in the theater, as they waited for the curtain to rise on Monday’s performance. “Keeping your father’s secret?”
Trucy giggled, her little legs swinging a bit from her seat. “Oh, not at all,” she said cheerfully. “I’m a magician, so I’m an expert at keeping secrets!” Indeed, she certainly looked the part today as well, light red top hat and cape still in place.
Miles nodded. “Ah. Yes, of course.” A pause, during which the prosecutor let the sounds of the chattering crowd wash over him and during which the magician hummed a little tune Miles didn’t recognize. “Still, it must have been strange, knowing him as two different people,” he finally said, crossing his arms.
The little girl shook her head, but a serious expression clouded her facial features. “Actually, this was my idea,” she admitted. Miles’s eyebrows flew up in amazement. “Daddy was really sad,” said Trucy solemnly. “I was really worried about him ‘cause he only ever ate noodles and peanut butter-and-jelly. So I said, ‘You know what makes me feel better, Daddy? Putting on a show!’” A bright smile had lit up her face at the memory, but just as quickly, it flitted away again, and the uncertainty was back as she looked down at her knees. “But Daddy doesn’t know magic. So he told me he knew how to do a different kind of show, one he learned about how to do in college.” She graced him with another wide smile. “And he’s really good at it! But… I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about it.” Trucy looked back at the stage now, eyes shining in anticipation. “Daddy says that when he’s on stage, he’s not Phoenix Wright anymore. That’s okay with me.” The smile she wore was the same as Phoenix’s, eager and hopeful. “Because the smile I see on his face when he’s up there is still Daddy’s smile, no matter who he’s being.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Miles, letting one spread across his own face as well as the lights dimmed at last.
Phoenix couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happy like this. Maybe never.
Somehow, he had wound up gaining something from all of his loss. Somehow, his extraordinarily stupid decision to lead a double life had led to him living the one he had longed for all along: one in which Miles Edgeworth was by his side.
Well, perhaps that was phrasing it a little oddly. It wasn’t like they’d even ironed out exactly what their relationship was now besides “best friends who have also kissed.” But Phoenix was reasonably sure that Miles felt the same way he did. Or at least something close.
In any case, he liked Phoenix well enough to assist with takedown of the set, even though the request to show up in “casual clothes” had resulted in the prosecutor wearing a crisp red button-up shirt and black slacks. He was absolutely going to get that shirt snagged on something before the task was done.
“How are you doing?” asked the voice of Mr. Well-Dressed Stage Hand himself, and suddenly the actor’s field of vision was taken up with a plastic bottle of water, dripping with condensation. Phoenix had been sitting on a plank of wood, taking a breather in the middle of taking down the set piece which had once been the King of Naples’s ship.
Phoenix lifted his head to see that Miles was looking at him fondly, which sent his heart into something of a tizzy, and he extended a weary hand to take the offered beverage. “I’ve been better,” he confessed, uncapping the water and taking a few grateful gulps. Besides the fact that striking set was always exhausting, especially for a production which had used such large and detailed pieces, it was kind of sad to see the backdrops and set pieces go. He had painted quite a few of them himself, after all. At least art school had been useful for something.
“Well, I should think we’re nearly done. It’s been going rather smoothly,” said Miles. Phoenix shot him a look. That was easy for him to say—he wasn’t currently a disheveled, sweaty mess. His shirt wasn’t even snagged on anything. It was as impressive as it was annoying.
“How many large pieces of wood have you moved here today, again?” he mused pointedly, a slight smile lighting up his face.
Miles’s pale cheeks colored a bit. The effect was lovely. “I… have been assisting more with the care of props,” he mumbled, abashed.
Phoenix laughed. “Oh, don’t make that face. I was only teasing you.”
The prosecutor’s face smoothed out then, and he took a seat next to Phoenix. The proximity was something it would take some time to get used to—Phoenix was used to an invisible wall standing between them, but now, much like the set of The Tempest, that had come tumbling down.
“Oh, y-you don’t want to get too close to me right now,” he said awkwardly when Miles shuffled closer. “I’m—I’m all sweaty.” He felt his cheeks heat up, both from embarrassment and from residual exertion.
Miles frowned at him like the very notion of his being deterred by sweat was an affront, and spitefully sat even closer, pressing his shoulder against Phoenix’s. Phoenix felt warm inside, both from the rush of affection he felt towards the man next to him and from the heat of the lights beating down on him mercilessly. “Guess you don’t mind.”
“I would go through much worse to be close to you,” said Miles, and wow, only he could make a line so sappy sound so haughty.
Phoenix’s cheeks burned even more. “Well don’t hurt yourself,” he said weakly.
“Hmph,” was all the other man said to that, and Phoenix wasn’t sure if it had been a huff or a laugh. They sat in silence a while, the actor taking occasional sips of his water.
“Miles,” Phoenix finally said, fiddling with the cap of his plastic bottle, “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while, but… when you say you want to be close to me… what...” He cleared his throat, and forced the question out: “What do you mean by that?” It was something that had been bothering him since Friday night. It was Wednesday now—nearly a week had gone by since that kiss.
When he chanced a glance back up at Miles, he saw that he was looking at Phoenix like he’d just asked a very stupid question. It was an expression he was used to, though. “I should think that would be obvious by now,” he said with a frown.
“Humor me,” Phoenix said, screwing the cap back onto his bottle and setting it aside. “Explain.”
The blush that spread across the other man’s face made the awkwardness of the situation almost worth it. “I… care for you, Phoenix,” he said, a little stiffly.
“I got that,” he said, nodding. “But you can care for me without, y’know, forgiving me for lying to you for a couple months, so...” He raised his eyebrows promptingly.
The prosecutor’s frown became almost comically pronounced. “Surely it’s clear to you how I feel about you,” he sputtered.
Phoenix sighed, torn between the desire to laugh and the desire to hide his face. “Sometimes it’s good to not leave anything unclear, Miles, okay?” he said. I know no way to mince it in love, but directly to say, ‘I love you,’ the Shakespearean part of his brain supplied, but he pushed the thought aside. “I’m just… trying to figure out where we stand.”
“Phoenix,” he said, and Phoenix swore every time he said his first name was a time his heart skipped a beat. “I have dedicated much of my free time to watching you perform. I have invited you to my home. I have, as you mentioned, made an effort to understand your recent need to be a different person for my sake. And now I am here, on a weekday afternoon, during work hours, helping you stroke the set.”
“Strike the set,” Phoenix corrected, suppressing a laugh, “but yeah, I guess I see your point. Still haven’t answered my question, though.”
“Well, what about you?” Miles spat, his face flushed. “You still haven’t told me how you feel, either!”
“Oh,” said Phoenix, only now realizing it was true. He rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “I mean… I pretended to be a different person just so I could flirt with you, Miles… and then I got jealous of myself, which is the weirdest feeling, believe me… so...” And then his words trailed off and he looked at the floor rather than at the man next to him. It seemed easier.
“You see, it’s not so easy to come out and say it, is it?” Miles said smugly. “And by the way, the only reason I was infatuated with that man is because he reminded me so much of you.”
“You were infatuated with him?” said Phoenix then, voice somewhere between amazed and offended.
Miles had angled himself away from Phoenix now as well. “I certainly don’t let just anyone kiss my hand,” he grumbled.
A grin spread across Phoenix’s face. “I wondered if you were mad about that,” he confessed.
“Oh I was,” Miles said peevishly. “I was very upset indeed...” Phoenix was fairly certain he was biting back the rest of the statement: because it wasn’t you.
His reluctance to admit it was endearing. He was endearing. And he was also incredible. He had been changing Phoenix’s life since he was nine years old, and here he was still, flipping his world on its head and making him see things in ways he never would have before. Phoenix’s heart felt as if it would burst from all the feelings he held towards this man.
Well, if Miles was having trouble saying it plainly, he would be Will one last time. Will never had trouble saying things like this.
He laid a hand on Miles’s shoulder, and the prosecutor started a bit as his head whipped back around to face him. “Ph-Phoenix?” he murmured, no doubt taken aback by the sudden intensity in Phoenix’s eyes.
“Miles,” he said, as seriously as he could muster, “I love you.”
The other man’s mouth fell open slightly, and his gray eyes darted around Phoenix’s as if searching for some indication that this was a very poor joke. “I… I’m not certain I’ve heard correctly,” he said weakly.
Phoenix knew Miles had heard him perfectly, but he smiled and obliged him anyway. “I love you, Miles,” he said again, “and nothing would make me happier than if you’d… um, how did you phrase it?” He thought a moment, ignoring the heat that rose to his own cheeks at the raw emotionalism he was displaying here. “‘Stand at my side, with no stage between us’?”
“You,” stammered Miles, “Do you mean as your friend? Because of course I will always be here as your friend no matter what, but—”
Phoenix rolled his eyes, and decided kissing him was the quickest way to express his intentions. Miles surrendered the rest of his words in favor of pressing back into his kiss, leaning into the hand that Phoenix brought up to cup the side of his face. “No, I don’t mean as my friend,” Phoenix murmured when they parted.
“I didn’t want to make any assumptions,” Miles muttered, fighting a smile. “You are a master actor after all. Perhaps you were merely playing the part.”
“I promise you that the way I feel about you is no act,” he responded firmly.
Miles nodded. “Well…” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter when Phoenix let him go. “Good, then. My feelings are sincere as well.”
“What feelings, exactly?” Phoenix pretended to wonder, tapping his chin. “I sure don’t remember you confessing anything beyond infatuation for a Mr. William Shakes...”
“I can’t believe I actually bought that name,” Miles groaned, offhand.
“I’m very convincing,” said Phoenix placatingly.
“Yes,” Miles agreed. “And... very well.” He fidgeted, which would have been amusing if Phoenix’s heart wasn’t pounding so hard right now. “I… have loved you for quite a long time, Phoenix.”
Phoenix had to let his eyes fall closed to completely take in the beauty of those words as they reverberated through him, words he had only heard uttered in his dreams until now. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“Do not thank me for stating the obvious,” Miles blustered. “I have never done so much for anyone else in my life. Of course I love you.”
“I still needed to hear it,” Phoenix defended himself. “Words are kind of my stock and trade, so they tend to carry a lot of meaning for me.”
“Hm,” Miles said thoughtfully, crossing his arms and nodding as if he understood that. “I see. Yes, I suppose they are your tools both in a courtroom and on a stage.” It was almost heartening, hearing him not hold back from referencing the courtroom around him after so long. No words were forbidden between them anymore.
“That’s right,” he said, and let himself lean on Miles like he should have been doing all along.
Miles rested his cheek on the top of Phoenix’s head, almost absentmindedly. “So… what production are you going to star in next?”
“I’m going to take a break from the stage,” Phoenix decided. “I’ve got something to look forward to off it now.”
“Well, you’ve certainly earned a respite before you resume working so hard,” said Miles. “And speaking of which, shall we get back to work on taking down this set?”
Phoenix shook his head against Miles’s shoulder. “No, I want to rest a moment longer,” he said, and then couldn’t resist quoting: “‘Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne’er be younger.’”
“Is it going to be a Shakespeare quote every few minutes with you from now on?” Miles asked him with a sigh.
“Maybe,” was all Phoenix would say. He hoped Miles stuck around long enough to find out.
And so they sat there quietly for a little while more, enjoying the silence and the feeling of having someone with whom to share their burdens. This, Phoenix thought to himself, was surely the kind of freedom Prospero had sought.
For the first time in quite a long while, Phoenix felt as if things would be okay in the end.
O, stay and hear! Your truelove’s coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers meeting...
-Twelfth Night, Act 2 Scene 3, Lines 41-44
Thank you so much, everyone. I’ve loved your comments and support so much!! I hope to see you all again in my next project! (: <333
My darling friend @prospectkiss recently read half of chapter 11 of Project: Matchmakers out loud and I pretty much melted into a pile of unicorn tears and rainbow glitter because it was so beautiful??? And also she’s an absolute angel and since I couldn’t give her the moon or an entire castle I read one of her fics, Special Valentines, in return. It’s a wholesome little fic about kid Miles and Phoenix and everybody in the fandom who hasn’t already read it should read it!
Here’s the recording! (16 minutes)
Annnd here’s the bloopers. (52 seconds)
Rules: Post the last line in your wip and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence
I was tagged by both @prospectkiss and @wingsonghalo to do this, so I guess the obligation is doubled! Let’s do this!
This is from a kink meme prompt that I’ve been meaning to fill for a couple of months now. I’ve been trying to finish it before pride month is over since the prompt is pretty relevant to it.
“God when you put it like that, it does seem ridiculous!”
What does it mean? Well, if I can properly kick my writer’s block ass to finish, you’ll have to read it when I finally post it!
11 words. And I still only know @sarahtoninsmile well enough to tag. So sorry for always picking on you in tagging games!
Rules: Post the last line in your wip and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence
The lovely and fabulous @prospectkiss has tagged me for this! I sure am getting tagged a lot recently! Love it. LOL
So okay, I’m in chapter 6 of Project: Matrimony. I wish I could give you guys a better teaser than this, as it tells you literally nothing, but the last scene I wrote ended with:
“You sure will!” she sang ominously, and then hung up.
Wow, that’s exactly 10 words.
(Forgive me in advance for tagging you so much, writerfriends.)
I tag @canolacrush (I am giving you a workout with these tag games huh), @smile-edgeworth, @princelyplot, @spodiddly (SINCE I KNOW YOU HAVE A WIP...), @mysticdelphox97, @inufan330, @matsuorka, annnnd oh god help me I don’t know how many more of my friends have WIPs...ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DO SO :D
Once again tagged to do a thing by @prospectkiss so let’s do this!
(Wow. 2 tags in one week. When did I become this extroverted?)
Rules: Answer the things and tag 10ish people into this
Name/Nicknames: Well, I guess Katie is technically a nickname since its short for Katherine
Gender: Female
Sign: Leo
Height: *Checks license* 5′6
Time: Almost midnight. SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK!
Birthday: August
Favourite Band: The Beatles and Abba
Song Stuck In My Head: Journey to the Past
Last Movie I Watched: The Incredibles 2
Last TV Show I Watched: My Hero Academia
What I Post Here: Literally whatever fandoms I'm into, political stuff that needs to be heard and memes. I have no coherency.
Do I Get Asks: Not really. Though I'm open if anyone's curious.
URL Meaning: I was going through a massive Inuyasha phase and similar usernames for other sites in the past. I try to go more for randomfangirl nowadays to broaden more fandoms. Though Inuyasha will always have a special place in my heart! Even if I tend to cringe about my love whenever I look back. (Ohhh 14-year-old me...)
Hours Of Sleep I Get: I don’t really keep track... as you can see, I am the picture of health!
Nationality: Mainly German, Irish and Polish I believe. I think I have more European ancestry, but it’s such a mess to keep track of all of them at this point!
People I’m dragging into this: Uhh... I don’t really know 10 people well enough to tag them... so...maybe @sarahtoninsmile if she’s up for it?
