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nsmama · 5 years

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Waiting for the Ring

Waiting for the Ring By Nsmama (whose inner George McFly is very nervous right now)

A short story in which Phoenix Wright talks to inanimate objects as much as the author generally does, using very similar words. My apologies to Capcom, who owns these people, and to any readers for the silly title. Setting is sometime not too long after Justice For All, which is where I am in the game; {edited: yes, some game plot spoilers for the first two games}. Narumitsu, of course.

He was up way too late and he knew it, but he didn't want to go to sleep yet. Sunday was officially over but it still counted as Sunday night right up until the alarm went off Monday morning, right? Going to bed meant giving up. He took a swallow from the half-empty mug of tea in his left hand and found it cold. It must have been longer than he'd thought. He put the mug onto the floor.

“Damn it,” he said, looking at the time in the corner of the laptop screen.

3:32 AM. In not too many hours he had to get up, and he still needed to wash up the pot he'd eaten his dinner of egg-drop instant ramen from, before he went to bed. He glanced to where it still sat on the tray table next to him, congealed oils shining in the glow of his screen. Gross. No wonder Miles had left.

That wasn't fair, and he knew it. Miles had left for Franziska, which was a good and noble thing to do. If Phoenix had a sister in such anguish, he'd have left Miles behind to help her. Unless Miles had also been in anguish, because Phoenix knew he would never, ever again leave that man alone to struggle with his jacked-up feelings.

“Raised by wolves,” he muttered. “Asshole wolves.”

He understood that that was precisely why Miles had gone with Franziska: she had been raised by the same wolves and she needed her brother right now. He imagined Miles trying to talk her through identifying her feelings and snorted. It was like the blindfolded leading the blind. Well, that wasn't fair either. Miles had come a long way towards clear sight since he'd died. That was how Phoenix thought of it because that was how it had felt.

He sighed and clicked again, another link to another article. Wikipedia was a lovely rabbit-warren for waiting up with.

His phone still didn't ring.

“Any minute now, shmoopy,” he said to the phone.

Calling Miles by stupid pet names he would have hated if he were there to hear them was perhaps a pathetic revenge, but it felt justified.

“Sugar lips,” he said to the phone. “Huggy bear. Angel face.”

Miles did have an angel face, he thought. That one maybe he could use later, if he ever thought he could slide it into a pile of murmured adoration without Miles being the wiser. If he could use it two or three times unnoticed, it might become a thing. That would be nice.

“Angel face,” he said again, picturing it.

Gray eyes, rimmed with ashy-brown lashes. Damn, that man was fine. A small, refined nose. Phoenix rubbed his own nose, wishing it were not so big. Cheekbones so clean you could draw them with a line instead of shading. Broad forehead with that giant, genius, gorgeous brain behind it. Phoenix imagined Miles' brain as a rose garden full of a rainbow of flowering bushes, all brilliant petals, green leaves, and thorns that pricked his thumb as he tried to pick a spray to give Miles.

“You're bleeding,” said Miles, and Phoenix saw that he was, and the blood dripped onto the brown earth while Miles took the rainbow roses, pushing his face into them and smelling their perfume while Phoenix fell to the ground, trying to catch his blood. If he didn't get the blood back it would be too late and Miles would be up on his balcony again, calling out to him without seeing him. It was like a play, but he couldn't remember which one because his blood was sinking into the dirt, and –

Phoenix jerked awake, not sure what had wakened him but happy to be out of a dream that was going badly.

“If he's Juliet, we're already past the faking your own death part and I have no idea what comes next,” he said to nothing in particular, just for some noise to drive the dream farther away.

His phone pinged and he lunged for it. There were two messages already.

Miles <3 I'm sorry it's so late. I simultaneously hope I am and am not waking you.

Miles <3 Looks like I'm not. I'm pleased you have sensibly gone to bed. Good man. Our flight was delayed quite unreasonably. I assure you that nothing short of aviation regulations could keep me from our scheduled chats. I'll catch you next Sunday.

No, wait! Phoenix typed quickly. I'm still up! Ish.

Miles <3 You can explain “ish” when I call. I look forward to it.

Miles <3 Is your phone charged? Or will we have another repeat of last Sunday's debacle? It seems rather late, your time, to find a neighbor and borrow their phone cord. I'd prefer not to call if I'll be left wondering whether you are all right for almost an hour.

It's charged, Miles. Jeez. he wrote, looking around for the charging cable, jamming it into the port, flopping onto the floor near the outlet because the cord was so short.

Finally, his phone rang.

#ace attorney #fanfic #narumitsu #wrightworth #take that george mcfly im posting it #possibly only because im so overtired though

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