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Chapter Text

The door to the jeweller’s slammed open with the force of an earthquake, causing the glass display cases to shake. Patrons and workers alike turned to glare at the scruffy young man who interrupted the soothing atmosphere. He didn’t seem to take notice, instead blundering forward with all the grace of an elephant.

“Nick!” he called out in excitement, spotting his friend poring over the diamond rings.

“Nick” glanced over to see his childhood friend making a beeline for him, a big, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Larry, how’d you find me?” Phoenix asked, a muted sense of dread forming in his gut.

Larry ignored him, glancing past Phoenix to the rings he was looking at. “So it is true!” he gasped. “You are proposing to Dollie!”

At the mention of his beloved’s name, Phoenix felt a warm glow wash over him. His blank expression was replaced by a dopey smile as thoughts of his sweet, sweet Dollie flooded his mind. With crimson hair the color of the setting sun, and big doe eyes that could launch a thousand ships, Phoenix could only dream of how she’d look in a wedding dress.

“Yeah,” he breathed happily, lost in his daydream of kissing Dahlia beneath a white arch while doves flew into the sky behind them.

Larry, unfortunately, was not swept away by such daydreams. “How could you do this to me, Nick?” he cried, fists clenched as he snapped at his friend like a rabid dog.

Phoenix sighed. Larry always had a flair for the dramatic. “Larry, it’ll be fine,” he promised.

Larry quickly switched from being angry to weeping big, crocodile tears. “We were gonna be bachelors, Nick!” he lamented. “Now I’m gonna be alone while you and Dollie have a big house and two-point-five kids. You’ll forget about me!”

Larry’s cries rung out clearly overtop of the classical music piped in. Everyone in the shop was staring at the two of them with varying mixes of horror and amusement. Phoenix flushed, and quickly pulled his friend aside.

“Listen, I promise—”

“Nick, tell me you’ll save some space for me in that mansion of yours!” Larry pleaded. “Give me a room to live out my final days with my best friend!”

Phoenix struggled to calm his breathing. Punching Larry in the face in the middle of a jewelry store is not going to help, he thought to himself. “I’ve wanted to marry Dollie for years, Larry. Yeah, we won’t be bachelors anymore, but I won’t just forget about you. We’ll still hang out,” Phoenix promised, offering his friend a tentative smile.

Larry sniffed, eyes still watering. “Can I be your best man?”

Phoenix paused, and for Larry it was too much. “My best friend is getting married and suddenly he doesn’t want me to be his best man!” Larry wailed.

Phoenix knew he would regret this. “You can be my best man if you shut up,” he snapped.

As if by magic, Larry immediately closed his mouth. His tears came to an abrupt halt and he beamed at Phoenix with shining eyes. Phoenix briefly wondered if he’d been played.

Larry gave him a thumbs’ up. “You won’t regret it, man! I’ll be the best best man you could dream of!” he promised.

Phoenix just sighed, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this mess. “Well I have to propose first,” he pointed out.

He turned back to the clerk who’d been helping him inspect rings. Said clerk was now staring at him pointedly with one eyebrow raised. Phoenix offered them an apologetic smile before going back to the rings.

“And before I can propose,” Phoenix continued. “I need the perfect ring!”

The clerk cleared his throat, prepared to give his sales pitch. “Yes, here’s a selection of some of the most popular designs for this season.” As they spoke they waved their hand over the rings in the display tray, each one sparkling in the light.

Phoenix eyed them critically as a frown slowly began to form on his face. “These are all gold,” he pointed out.

“Yes, gold is a timeless metal that your fiancée will surely appreciate—”

“Dollie is going to want a platinum ring,” Phoenix interrupted. “Do you think I’m too cheap to afford the best ring for my Dollie?” he challenged.

The clerk just frowned at him as they picked up the tray. “I didn’t mean to imply that sir. Let me go find some platinum rings for you,” they said drily before walking away.

Phoenix was left with his chest puffed out, glaring at the poor salesperson’s back. Larry clapped him on the back. “You tell ‘im, Nick! How much are you spending on this ring anyways?”

Phoenix looked a little sheepish as he averted his gaze. “Well, the two months rule doesn’t exactly apply since I don’t really have a steady income. So I pawned some of my textbooks,” he explained.

Larry gave him a thumbs up. “Good idea! Love is much more important than a bunch of boring books!”

Phoenix glowed at the praise. “I’m glad you agree! Ema thought it was a bad idea.”

Larry huffed. “She’s always been a stick in the mud.”

The salesperson cleared their throat, indicating they’d returned with a new spread of rings. Phoenix pursed his lips, eyeing them as they sparkled in the light. He’d done his research, trying to figure out the difference between princess and emerald cuts and drilling the “Four C’s” into his head. But everything he’d crammed in his head the night before went missing in the face of a bunch of shiny rocks. Instead he tried to imagine what each would look like on Dollie’s finger.

He pointed to a pear shaped diamond. “What do you think of this one, Larry?” he asked.

Larry nudged him out of the way to peer down at the ring, eyes sparkling just as much as the diamond. He broke out into a wide grin. “If you asked me to marry you with this ring, I’d have to say yes!” he exclaimed.

Phoenix looked at him with a blank expression. It’s a good thing I’m not asking you to marry me, then, he thought. He turned to the salesperson. “I’ll take it.”

The clerk nodded. “Good choice,” he assured, preparing to ring up Phoenix’s purchase.

Behind him, Larry began to cry again. “I’m so happy for you, Nick!” he sobbed.

You certainly weren’t a minute ago. Phoenix just smiled and said, “This ring is going to seal the deal!”

Larry sniffled. “Are you going to name your firstborn after me?”

Phoenix shot him a warning glare. “Do you want me to make someone else my best man?”

That night, Phoenix met Dahlia at the French restaurant that he’d taken her to on their first date. Ever the environmentally conscious art major, he rode his bike and locked it up outside. He’d been sure to make reservations a month ago, and he claimed their table as he waited for his love.

When she strode through the door, radiant as ever, his heart melted. She was the picture of elegance, wrapped in delicate lace and chiffon. He could never hope to compare, still wearing the suit that he’d worn to senior prom. He would never understand how he had won her affection, but he was blessed that he had.

Phoenix caught her eye and waved her over, wearing the same goofy grin he always did in her presence. He made a show of getting up to pull out her seat for her. She giggled at the gesture, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Phoenix’s stomach turned over, butterflies erupting as he sat down. He had to say something to let her know how divine she was.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he breathed. It didn’t come close to describing how being with her made his skin tingle and veins sing, but it would have to do.

Dahlia batted her eyes at him, cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she reached across to join their hands. “Just tonight?” she teased.

“No, always,” Phoenix replied immediately, entwining their fingers happily.

Their hands stayed clasped throughout dinner, even as the waiter poured their “finest champagne” as requested by Phoenix. Dinner had been delectable and lush, and the time for Phoenix’s proposal was approaching. His palms were beginning to sweat and he could feel the ring in his pocket weighing him down.

In his mind’s eye, he imagined himself making a toast just before getting down on one knee. Dahlia would watch him fondly with those big doe eyes, before gasping as she saw him drop down. Finally, she would shed tears of joy before giving him and emphatic yes and they would ride off into the sunset on a tandem bicycle.

As he gripped his champagne flute and looked deep into Dahlia’s eyes, he imagined that he’d died and gone to heaven, because how else could everything be so perfect?

“Oh Dollie, tonight is perfect,” he said wistfully, clinking their glasses together.

His girlfriend took a sip before giving him a soft smile. “No, Feenie, you’re perfect.”

“No, you,” Phoenix insisted.

Dahlia hummed for a moment, taking another sip of champagne. “You’re right, I am perfect,” she agreed.

Phoenix’s heart swelled with love, beating in time with the soft violin concerto playing throughout the restaurant. This was it, the perfect moment. “Dollie, I have something I need to say,” he began.

Dahlia set her glass down and put up a hand to stop him. “You don’t need to say anything, Feenie. We both know why we’re here,” she assured him with a radiant smile.

Phoenix felt all the muscles in his body relax as relief washed over him. If Dahlia knew why he’d brought her here and she still came, then… “Dollie, I never thought that I—”

Dahlia cleared her throat pointedly. “I wasn’t finished.”

Phoenix ducked his head in embarrassment. “Sorry!”

Dahlia just smiled at him softly, reaching for his hand to give it a soft squeeze. “I’ve always had my whole life planned out, ever since I was a kid. After I graduate here I’m going to law school at Harvard, and then onto politics, it’s been my dream my whole life,” she explained as Phoenix nodded along. It was a story he heard many times. “And lately I’ve been wondering how you’re going to fit in.”

While she spoke, Phoenix slipped a hand into his pocket, grabbing the velvet box that held his whole future. “Dollie, I’ll fit in wherever you want me,” he promised. In one swift motion he brought the box onto the table and opened it, showing the sparkling diamond inside. “Dahlia Hawthorne, will you marry me?”

Dahlia gave the ring a cursory, almost bored glance before opening her mouth. “I’m breaking up with you.”

All of Phoenix’s hopes and dreams toppled down around him with a sound like breaking glass. “What?” he shrieked.

Dahlia shot him an annoyed glare, briefly glancing at the other patrons now watching them. “I’m breaking up with you,” she repeated.

As much as Phoenix struggled to keep his emotions in, tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. “B-but, why?” he blubbered helplessly.

Dahlia was very pointedly not meeting the stares of innocent bystanders. “If I’m going to be the first female president I need somebody serious,” she explained.

Phoenix still didn’t understand. Of course he was serious! He had the ring to prove it. “But I am serious!” he protested.

She gave him a withering look, eyebrows raised. “Feenie,” she scolded. “You’re an artist. That’s not exactly a realistic profession.”

Phoenix started, his pride wounded in addition to his heartbreak. “I love you.”

Dahlia squeezed his hand. “I love you, too, but we’re adults now. This was fun while it lasted, but it was never serious. My husband needs to be less Bob Ross and more John F. Kennedy.”

Phoenix opened his mouth to object, “Bob Ross is an inspiration to us all!”

She smiled at him in the same way you would to humor a child. “I know, Feenie, but he’s not fit to be the First Gentleman.”

Phoenix’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m serious about you,” he insisted pathetically.

Dahlia sighed. “Face it, this was never going to work out. We’re from two different worlds. You were my fun college boyfriend, but I can’t be your college girlfriend anymore.”

With that, she got up and walked up, leaving Phoenix bawling while the server brought him the bill.

Chapter Text

The pained wails of a dying animal echoed through the halls of the eastern co-ed dormitory. If Ema had to place it, she’d put the sound somewhere between a cat in heat and a mourning elephant. But there was no elephant in room 214. Just a weeping Phoenix. Ema stayed laser-focused on the wooden door between them, ignoring the bewildered stares of college students walking past. One of them was wearing Spongebob slippers, so he really had no room to judge.

Ema banged her fist on the door for the hundredth time. “It’s been twelve days!” she shouted. The crying continued, unhindered. “You can’t stay in there forever!”

The crying stopped and for a moment, Ema felt a glimmer of hope. She should have known better. “Just watch me!” Phoenix challenged, before the whimpering resumed.

Ema glared harder at the door, wondering if her anger would be enough of a catalyst for latent mutant abilities to burn a hole through it. She kicked the door. “If you don’t open up, I will go to the lab and synthesize some thermite to blow this door open, and so help me God, I will not pay for the damages!” she threatened.

The RA poked their head out of their room. “Yes you will.”

“I will pay for the damages, but it’ll be worth it to get your sorry ass out of there!” Ema corrected.

Still watching the scene, the RA cleared her throat and pointed to the list of rules outside her door, one of which was “No cursing in public areas :)” nestled right between “No masturbating in the showers” and “No firearms in the dorms.” Ema imaged thick clouds of steam billowing out her ears, but rolled her eyes and nodded. The RA gave Ema a dubious look before throwing her hands in the air and retreating back into her room.

Despite her annoyance, Ema was immensely pleased to hear the door unlock. “I’m just doing this because I’m not going to be responsible for you setting off the smoke detectors again,” Phoenix grumbled, opening the door a crack.

Ema scowled at seeing him for the first time in over a week. He was wearing sweatpants with Cheeto stained thighs, his hair was drooping and looked vaguely greasy, while his eyes were red and chocolate was smeared at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re disgusting,” Ema muttered, forcing the door open with her shoulder, and getting an eyeful of his room.

If Phoenix was disgusting, his room was a lost cause and needed to be cordoned off as an environmental hazard. Dirty clothes were strewn across the floor, like a rodent had been trying to make a nest in them, while the trash was overflowing, stacked high with soda cans. Worst of all, Ema was pretty sure she could see dust particles flowing from his sheets, and there was probably a whole ecosystem living under his pillow.

Ema gagged and threw the newspaper she’d brought into Phoenix’s face. “Welcome to the land of the living. Get reacquainted with the world while I sanitize this hellhole,” she groused.

Ema flipped the light switch, letting Phoenix blink, disoriented in the sudden light as he began reading over the local newspaper. He read the headline about renovations to the art academy while Ema fastened a surgical mask over her face and armed herself with Febreze. He flipped through slowly as his room began to come together. While Ema wasn’t going to do his laundry and clean his sheets (she wasn’t his mother) she at least kicked all of the dirty clothes into their own corner so that the floor was visible again. When that was taken care of she moved on to spraying every last inch of the place with air freshener.

“I think you got everything,” Phoenix grumbled after a minute, attempting to figure out what a four letter word for “cargo” was.

Ema glared at him, then sprayed him with Febreze.

“Hey!” he yelped. “You don’t need to spray me!”

Ema scoffed. “You’re the most disgusting thing in this place.” She sprayed him again.

A moment later, Phoenix shrieked like a Ema had used pepper spray instead of Febreze. Ema raised an eyebrow. “Did I get your eye?” she asked.

Phoenix shook his head, thrusting the paper in front of her face and pointing at a blurry photo. “It’s Dollie’s stepsister Valerie’s engagement announcement!” he wailed.

Ema wanted to slap herself. She definitely should have removed that page before handing it off. Phoenix pulled the picture back under his nose like he was examining it for clues. “She’s marrying some hoity-toity lawyer from Stanford,” he sniffled. “He has a comb-over.”

Ema looked skyward, counting backwards from ten as she tried to remember everything Lana had taught her about empathy. Then she remembered Lana hadn’t taught her shit and she was filled with the nigh unshakeable desire to wring her friend’s neck. Why was he her friend again?

Thankfully she was saved from having to awkwardly console him. “Wait, Ema!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm in a vice grip and showing her the photo again. “This is what Dollie wants!”

Ema’s gut filled with dread as Phoenix’s eyes gained an all too familiar sparkle, one that could only mean he’d developed a hair-brained idea doomed to failure. Ema glanced back at the picture. “She wants a comb-over?”

Phoenix laughed, strangely excited for someone that had been crying for the past twelve days. “No, this is the kind of man she wants!”

Ema examined the picture one last time. “Someone who wears black when nobody’s dead?” she guessed.

“No, someone lawyerly!” Phoenix exclaimed, throwing the paper aside onto his desk that Ema had literally just cleaned. “I know exactly how to win Dollie back!”

Ema’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes!” Phoenix shouted, and before she could stop him he stripped down to his boxers, once again dirtying the floor she’d just cleaned.

Ema stared at him as he rummaged through his pile of clothes. “What the hell are you doing?” she gaped.

He threw on a blue polo and hopped into some jeans. “I’m going to law school!” he said brightly.

Ema was too taken aback to reply, instead staring at her friend and hoping for him to start making sense. Instead, Phoenix kept talking. “She’s going to Harvard Law, so all I have to do is get in and prove to her that I’m serious!” he explained, now fully clothed and staring at Ema expectantly.

Instead of the support he clearly expected, Ema barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you just have to get into Harvard Law,” she said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. When she saw Phoenix’s dejected frown, her laughter stopped. “You’re serious.”

Phoenix pouted. “Of course I’m serious! This is the new me, completely serious!”

Ema covered her eyes with her hand, unable to continue watching this trainwreck. “Do you know the first thing about Harvard Law?”

After a moment’s pause Phoenix pointed at her and shouted: “Objection!” He pulled his hand back. “How was that?”

“Oh my god,” Ema lamented. “This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. What possessed you to make you think this is even remotely a good plan?”

Phoenix grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her face. He met her eyes, imploring her to understand. “Love, Ema!” he enthused. “I’m doing this for love.”

Ema pulled her hands back from him. “You’re too young to have a midlife crisis,” she groaned.

Phoenix just continued to smile sickeningly. “I love Dollie so much that has to mean something!” he insisted.

Ema grabbed his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into Harvard Law?” she asked. “You’ll need to write an essay that can make people cry, absolutely glowing recommendation letters, and at least a 174 on the LSAT.”

“Out of…?”

“180.”

Infuriatingly, Phoenix shrugged. “I have a 4.0 average.”

Ema wanted to slam her head against the wall. “Yeah, in Art History! You don’t know the first thing about law!”

Phoenix shrugged off her hands. “You’ll help me won’t you?”

Ema pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do I have a choice?”

Phoenix beamed at her, cupping her face as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You’re the best!” And with that, he turned on his heel and waltzed out of the dorm.

Ema stared at him, dumbfounded. “Where are you going?” she called.

“To ask my parents for money!”

Ema let out a long suffering sigh. “Go to UCLA, they said. You’ll make great friends, they said,” she grumbled to herself.

Larry eyed the mountain of study guides Phoenix set down on their table with thinly veiled horror. “I’m getting ACT flashbacks, Nick,” he whined.

Phoenix sighed, setting his coffee on top of the Leaning Tower of LSAT. “Yeah, apparently the LSAT is kind of a big deal.”

In the midst of midterms and studying for the LSAT (and writing his essay and finding people to write recommendations), Phoenix hadn’t had a lot of time to see his friends. He’d spent most of the past few weeks holed up in his room eating microwave mac and cheese, filling in more bubbles than any human being should have to. It had been quite a while since he’d seen the sun. Even now, he was only taking a quick caffeine break before meeting Ema for Law School Boot Camp.

“Wow, Nick, I can’t imagine going to school for three more years,” Larry mused, loudly chewing on the ice from his drained tea.

Phoenix cringed. “You barely made it through the last four,” he muttered gruffly.

Larry just shrugged, donning a shit-eating grin that made Phoenix want to punch his teeth out. “Cs get degrees!” he chimed.

Phoenix briefly wondered if an assault charge would ruin his chances of getting into law school. “Unfortunately, Cs aren’t going to get me into Harvard.” What right did Larry have to look so carefree when Phoenix was practically dying?

Larry pouted at him. “You’re still coming with us to San Diego, right?”

Phoenix nodded vehemently. “Of course! We’ve been planning that for over a year! I couldn’t skip out now!” he promised.

Larry seemed to settle at that, and Phoenix took a moment to check his phone. He groaned, suddenly remembering why he’d silenced it.

“What’s up?” Larry asked, peering over.

“It’s Ema,” Phoenix hissed, his eyes darting around to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. “She’s constantly hounding me about studying.”

Currently, Phoenix’s phone showed a series of texts “politely” reminding him that he’d better have the most recent practice LSAT done or Ema would kick his ass. (and also to bring her a strawberries and creme frappe because she knew he was meeting Larry at the coffeehouse.)

Phoenix sighed. “You’d think she was the one getting into Harvard.”

Larry shrugged. “I think torturing you gives her a break from studying for the forensics exam,” he guessed.

“I need a break, too!” Phoenix whined.

Larry leaned over to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Spring Break is just around the corner!” he exclaimed.

Phoenix nodded, welcoming the solidarity. He could contain his self-pity until then. “Unfortunately, I have to go meet Ema now,” he sighed, beginning to gather up his books.

Larry watched him go, waving goodbye as Phoenix got back in line for Ema’s coffee.

“Pray for me,” Phoenix called over his shoulder as he left.

Only minutes later, he was pushing a cotton candy pink coffee into Ema’s hands as she glared daggers at him. “You’re late,” she growled, taking a sip of her drink.

Phoenix huffed in exasperation. “By one minute. And I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t gotten your drink.”

Ema just shrugged. “That’s something you should have planned for. Lawyers can’t be late to court!”

Seeing the dark circles under Ema’s eyes, Phoenix kept his mouth shut, dropping his LSAT books down onto the table. The resulting sound caught the attention of nearby students in the undergrad library, but they quickly went back to their own studies. Ema stared blankly through the books Phoenix sat in front of her. He got the impression that she hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and was still waiting for her second wind.

Phoenix sat across from her, garnering no reaction as she continued to stare at his books with dead eyes. “We don’t have to do this,” he said gently.

Ema immediately slammed her hand on the table, getting a few glares. “Hell no, we are getting you into Harvard Law if it’s the last thing I do,” she insisted, hands grappling for his books. “Did you do the practice like I asked?”

Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, I got a 156,” he said sheepishly.

Ema’s perpetual frown deepened. “Not good enough,” she muttered, flipping to the earmarked test. “Did you mark what you got wrong?”

Phoenix pulled out the bubble sheet, showing it was marked with red slashes. Ema nodded in approval. “Then we are going through all of those until you understand what went wrong. Then you’re going to do another practice exam while I supervise.” From experience, Phoenix knew “supervising” meant she would order pizza and taunt him while he tried to work.

The next few hours passed smoothly, albeit much too slow. He was pretty sure his butt had left a permanent dent in his seat. Phoenix groaned, stretching out his legs until he felt his back pop back into place. He accidentally kicked Ema beneath the table, and she sent him a glare, softened by the fact that she had tomato sauce on her cheek.

“I’m done,” Phoenix groaned, pushing the test over for her to look at.

She humphed, setting to work scoring him while Phoenix devoured part of the pizza she ordered. “163,” she announced when she finished. “Improved, but still needs work.”

Phoenix slammed his head on the desk, groaning painfully. “Same,” called a student from a nearby table.

Phoenix’s groan quickly devolved into dry sobs. “Oh, quit your whining,” Ema snapped, gently smacking the back of his head. “There’s still plenty of time, I’ll give you another practice test and you can do it by next Monday and we’ll do the same thing.”

Phoenix kept his head down. “I can’t.”

Ema gave him a dubious look. “And why not?”

“I’m going to San Diego with Larry and the guys next week,” he explained.

Ema was quiet for a minute, and Phoenix didn’t dare look at her. “Are you serious,” she deadpanned. Phoenix flinched. “I thought you wanted to get into Harvard.”

Phoenix whined, “I do! But I need a break! And we’ve been planning this trip for a year!”

Ema poked the back of his head harshly. “And the people taking the LSAT with you have been studying for a year. You’re at a huge disadvantage. If you want to even the playing field, you need to put in the time.”

Phoenix whimpered, imagining his perfect spring break in San Diego, lying on the beach, drinking mimosas, getting a tan. It all crumbled to dust and slipped through his fingers. His only response was to make a high-pitched whine into the table.

Ema rolled her eyes. “Please stop,” she said after a minute. Phoenix showed no signs of stopping. “For the love of god, I’m staying here to study for the forensics exam, so you better be here to study for the LSAT.”

Phoenix shut his mouth, glancing up at her. “Can we go to the beach at least once?” he whimpered.

“If you bring your study books and buy me a Corona.”

Phoenix let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, I’ll let Larry know that I can’t come.”

Ema snorted, grabbing another piece of pizza. “Have fun.”

They did end up going to the beach to study. Ema set up an umbrella and laid a thick towel underneath where she parked herself for the whole day. They brought two coolers, one for alcohol and one to protect their books. Ema kept both of them close to her. She watched with disdain as Phoenix braved the thick crowd of beachgoers to get to the ocean. The only interesting thing at the beach for Ema were searching the sand for crabs and finding minnows in the water. But the amount of tourists here would definitely have scared any of them away. So instead she kept a forensics book on her lap and sipped on her beer.

Phoenix came back with a ridiculous grin. Ema scowled at him. “Don’t drip on me,” she warned.

Phoenix kept a respectable distance, sitting on his own towel. “How’s studying?” he asked.

“Nearly impossible,” she grumbled. “How were the child infested waters?”

“Great!” Phoenix said happily. “I got stung by a jellyfish!” he added, tone unchanging.

Ema peered over her book to see him pointing at a red burn on his ankle. “You seem strangely happy about that.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Ema rolled her eyes, reaching into the tote bag she brought for some aloe vera. “Well I’m not peeing on it.”

Phoenix gladly took the aloe vera from her while adding, “Don’t worry, I already took care of that.” At Ema’s horrified stare, he assured her he was kidding.

Ema laid back as Phoenix smeared the lotion on his leg, before he himself laid down on his towel. Ema spoke first, “Have you thought about what you’re going to write for your personal essay?” she asked.

Phoenix hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I was thinking. Essays are boring, right? And I’m sure the admissions guys get sick of reading them.”

Ema hummed in agreement, though already she knew she didn’t like where this was going. Phoenix continued, oblivious to Ema’s dread. “So I was thinking, instead of writing an essay, I can fly down there and give them a live show explaining why they should admit me!” he said gleefully.

Ema propped herself up on her elbows, looking at Phoenix over her sunglasses. “A live show,” she repeated.

Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, I’m in the color guard, so I was thinking I could get some marching band kids together and—”

“Remember when I said the whole stalking a girl to Harvard Law in an attempt to win back her affection was the worst idea I’d ever heard?” Ema interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“Uh-huh.” Phoenix nodded.

“I take it back. That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Phoenix pouted. “I think it’s innovative.”

Ema rolled her eyes. “You’d get thrown out of the Admissions Office before you could even open your mouth.”

Phoenix sighed. “I suppose you’re right. My mom did say the East coast has some weird rules about etiquette.”

“Yes, because your plan would totally work everywhere else.” Ema sighed, wondering why she put up with this dork.

Phoenix pursed his lips. “Do you think I could get a recommendation letter from Will Powers?” he wondered.

Ema hit him in the face with her book. “Just write your damn essay.”

A few weeks later, Phoenix was the one pounding Ema’s door down for a change. “Ema! It’s here, it’s here!” he yelled.

There was a loud crash on the other side, followed by some fumbling before Ema’s door swung open. She stood in front of him with messy hair, a blanket over her shoulders as one strap of her tank top hung off her shoulder.

“Huh?” she mumbled, blinking at him.

“My letter from Harvard!” Phoenix said pushing past her as he waved the letter in her face.

Ema rubbed her eyes with a yawn as Phoenix plopped down on her bed. “Sure, make yourself at home,” she grumbled, heading to her cupboard for some Pop-Tarts.

Phoenix bounced on her bed, hands shaking as he held the letter. “Do you think I got in?” he asked nervously.

“You better have, after all the work I put into you,” she grumbled.

Suddenly, Phoenix was filled with an inexplicable panic. What was he going to do if he didn’t get in? His chance of proving himself to Dollie would be gone. He shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. He had to get in, for love. He ripped open the letter just as Ema came back with a strawberry Pop-Tart dangling from her mouth.

He held the letter in his hands and let out an unholy screech. Ema just watched him flatly, chewing slowly. “Is that good or bad?”

Phoenix shakily threw the letter in her face. “I got in!” he yelled.

Ema took the letter, her eyes scanning it. It took a second for the news to hit, and when it did her eyes widened as they read through the letter again. When she finished the second time, she jolted out of her grumpy demeanor.

“Hell yeah, I knew you could do it!” she yelled, pumping her fist in the air. She set her breakfast down so she could grab Phoenix’s cheeks and kiss his forehead. “Now Larry owes me a hundred bucks!”

Phoenix smiled proudly at her praise. But his expression fell when he realized what she’d said. “You guys bet on whether I’d get in?” he asked.

Ema shrugged. “Yeah, but I knew you could do it. Do you know how many Snackoos a hundred dollars will buy?” she said dreamily.

Phoenix gaped at her. “Is that why you were so determined to make me study?” he yelled accusingly.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me, I helped. Go yell at Larry,” she said dismissively. Phoenix huffed, getting up and storming out to go do just that. Ema leaned out of her room to yell after him. “And while you’re there, get my money!”

Phoenix just flipped her off in response.

Chapter Text

His departure for the East Coast was filled with tearful goodbyes. Unfortunately, they all came from Larry.

Larry, and Phoenix were huddled near security, in front of a Starbucks that tried to mask the fact that no one in an airport Starbucks was happy to be there by making sure the entire place smelled like coffee beans. They stood right next to a table where a tired woman in a business suit attempted to eat breakfast. Larry wept openly into her oatmeal.

Phoenix grimaced at the scene his friend was making. “Larry, it’s okay, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” he promised.

That didn’t seem to faze Larry, in fact it seemed to make him cry harder. “You’ll forget about me, Nick!” he wailed, earning an exasperated glare from the poor woman next to them.

“I won’t,” Phoenix promised. “Besides, you’re gonna be busy taking a stab at this whole acting thing, you won’t have time for me!”

Larry immediately gave him a cross glare. “Are you saying you won’t have time for me?” he accused.

Ema had taken her leave to get some coffee as soon as Larry started whimpering, saying something along the lines of “I’m not nearly awake enough for this crap.” She returned, slurping noisily on a drink that smelled more like caramel than coffee.

Larry eyed her sorrowfully. “You’re going to the other side of the country and Ema is going to Europe! You’ll both make better friends and I’ll be all alone!” he cried.

Ema scowled at him. “I don’t even like you,” she bit out.

Larry gestured at her, giving Phoenix a look that clearly said she’d proved his point. “See? It’s already happening!”

Phoenix shot Ema a glare. “Why’d you have to make this worse?” he asked with his eyes. If Ema understood, she just shrugged, continuing to drink her coffee with mild amusement. “Listen, I promise we won’t forget about you,” Phoenix said slowly. “Right, Ema?” he growled.

Larry turned to her with hopeful eyes, shining as his bottom lip quivered. The straw popped out of Ema’s mouth as she gave Larry an appraising look. “I could never forget about you,” she finally grumbled.

Larry clapped a hand over his chest, looking ready to give Ema a hug. “Thank you!” he practically sobbed.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Okay,” Phoenix interrupted, before he was dragged into another pity party. “I’d better get going. I have a flight to catch.”

Larry took that as an invitation to wrap Phoenix in a vice-grip, crushing his ribs and squeezing the life out of him. “I’ll never forget you, Nick!”

Phoenix patted his back awkwardly. “Uh-huh. Just to remind you, I’m not dying,” he pointed out.

Larry just pouted. “You’re not here so you might as well be dead!” he claimed.

“Thanks,” Phoenix said, rolling his eyes.

Ema cut in to give Phoenix a one-armed hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she advised.

Phoenix wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. “You’d do anything for science,” he snorted.

Ema pulled back, beaming at him as she adjusted her rose colored glasses. “You learned something after all!” she claimed proudly.

Phoenix returned her smile, and they held each other’s gaze for a few moments. Ema admitted, “I might even miss you a little bit.”

When Phoenix broke into an insufferable grin, she knew she should have kept that to herself.  “Admit it, Ema, you looove me,” he teased.

Ema huffed, crossing her arms. “Never mind. I can’t wait to be free of you losers,” she grumbled.

Phoenix laughed before waving goodbye one last time before heading through security.

The flight to Boston was uneventful, mostly because Phoenix took enough Valium to knock out a horse. Instead of gripping the seat at every bump and whirr of the engine, Phoenix was in a dopey bliss throughout the flight. It was pleasant for him, less so for the stranger next to him whose shoulder he kept trying to drool on. Turbulence over Lake Erie jolted him from his sleep, and he stayed conscious for the last couple hours of the flight. By the time the plane touched down in Boston, his sleepiness had worn off, though he was still a bit loopy. His muscles were relaxed, and overall he was just a bit too cheery for someone that had been on a plane for five and a half hours.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about driving himself (not that he could even if he wanted to). Instead, he caught a shuttle to campus and hauled his bags behind him. Not twenty minutes later, he set foot on Harvard’s tidy, uncracked sidewalks, hedged by perfectly trimmed lawns. On each block, brick and mortar buildings sprouted from the landscape like flowers, historic and regal. It was as if Phoenix had turned back the clock and stepped through time into the twentieth century. Everything around him, from the old brick-red buildings trimmed in white, to the trees along the path, exuded importance.

“It’s like Hogwarts,” Phoenix muttered under his breath as he stood in awe. He heard someone behind him snort, before weaving their way around him.

He adjusted the duffel bag digging into his shoulder as he attempted to figure out where he was going. There was a faded campus map pinned to the bus shelter, Phoenix parked himself in front of it as he began to read the faded letters. He soon realized he barely knew where he was, much less where he needed to be.

“Do you need some help?” called an amused voice from over his shoulder.

Phoenix turned around, eyes glowing with relief as they landed on the woman behind him. Her large brown eyes glinted from beneath her bangs, one eyebrow raised as she smirked at him. Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.

The brunette laughed, uncrossing her arms to tap one finger against her chin. “It’s always easy to spot the new kids. They’re the ones looking at the maps,” she explained.

“Makes sense,” Phoenix mused.

“So where are you headed?”

Phoenix racked his brain for a moment, trying to remember the name of the place he was staying. “Uh, Hastings, I think?”

The woman covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide how her smirk widened. She chuckled quietly, and Phoenix got the feeling he’d missed something. She pointed across the street to a brick building with large bay windows.

“That’s Hastings.”

Phoenix felt himself flush. “Oh.”

His impromptu guide continued to laugh at his expense. “It’s alright,” she assured. “So you’re a law student, then?”

Phoenix nodded in excitement. “Yeah! I’m super excited to start doing this… legal stuff with Dollie!”

His companion didn’t seem to be paying attention, instead looking at Hastings Hall with wistful longing. “I remember my 1L days,” she said fondly. “I just graduated in May. Now I’m back to get my LLM,” she explained.

Phoenix knew what about half those words meant, but he nodded along anyways. The woman clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, the next three years will fly by,” she promised.

Phoenix offered her a bright smile. “Thanks! I’d better check in,” he said, gesturing to the building across the street.

He blindly took a step off the sidewalk, before being jerked back by his arm as a car zoomed past, horn blaring at the student they’d nearly flattened. The woman still had her hand grasped around Phoenix’s wrist from where she’d pulled him out of the street. She stared at him with an incredulous look, mouth hanging open.

“I know student loans are rough, but the school won’t actually pay them if you get hit,” she said.

Phoenix pulled his arm back from her, giving her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, where I’m from the cars just stop.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “And you would be from…?”

“LA.”

“Ah,” she murmured, as if that explained everything. She glanced between Phoenix and the traffic on the road. “Maybe I should walk you to Hastings,” she suggested.

“That’d be great!” Phoenix said happily. “I’m Phoenix, by the way.”

“Mia,” she replied, stepping past him and waving him along. “C’mon, I’m going to show you how to use a crosswalk,” she teased.

Mia managed to lead Phoenix across the street to Hastings Hall without incident, where she dropped him off at the front desk before continuing on her way. Phoenix waved her off, thinking that if everyone here was as kind as Mia, Cambridge might not be so bad. He checked in at the desk, where he was handed a key, along with an itinerary.

Phoenix furrowed his brow, looking at the activities lined up through the weekend. “Is this my social calendar?” he asked.

The RA on duty gave him a flat look. “No, it’s the schedule for orientation. It starts tomorrow at 9 AM,” they said curtly.

Phoenix wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Oh.” A beat. “Do I have to go?”

“It’s mandatory,” came the monotone reply.

Phoenix sighed, thanking them regardless. He glanced at his room number, noting it was on the fifth floor. “Which way are the elevators?”

He was met with a blank stare. “This building doesn’t have elevators.”

He’d changed his mind. Cambridge was hell.

Chapter Text

The next morning, he was up early. Too early. He grabbed his itinerary and followed the parade of similarly tired law students down to the first floor for breakfast. During the whole trek down the five flights of stairs, all Phoenix could think about was that it’d be much harder walking back up. It had never occurred to Phoenix that historic buildings would also mean historic infrastructure. Not only did his new home not have an elevator, it also didn’t have air conditioning. Instead it had a terrifying mess of coils called a radiator tucked in the corner. It hissed at him whenever he walked past. Phoenix didn’t understand how people survived out here.

Following the line of students took him outside and across the lawn to a dining hall, where he entered a spacious room filled with tables that had been haphazardly pushed together. Each table displayed a number, and Phoenix noted one at the top of his itinerary as well. He could only assume that bore some significance.

But more importantly, he smelled pancakes.

After getting said pancakes from the buffet, he went and found his table. He was pleased to see a familiar face. “Morning Mia,” he yawned. He’d meant to sound happier, but it seemed he was too tired for his normal cheer.

Mia glanced up at him from the papers laid out in front of her. Phoenix noted they looked similar to his own itinerary. “Oh, hello, Phoenix. I didn’t realize you were in my section,” she said as Phoenix took a seat beside her at the end of the table.

“I didn’t realize you were a tour guide, or whatever this is,” Phoenix replied.

Irritation flashed in Mia’s eyes, and she shot a glare across the room. It was gone before Phoenix could follow, and he didn’t catch what she was glaring at. “I got roped into it at the last minute by the professor I’m working for. He’s your Section Leader so he’s supposed to lead you all, but he sent me instead,’” she grumbled wryly, clearly displeased with the turn of events.

His fork squeaked across his plate as he cut up his pancakes. “You mean you’re not excited to be here?” he asked.

Mia snorted. “No one is. This whole orientation is silly. Most 1Ls are in their twenties, I’d hope they could figure it out by now,” she said wryly.

“Wow, Mia, tell me how you really feel.”

She just shook her head in response. “I haven’t had my morning coffee,” she grumbled, pushing her chair away from the table to get up.

Phoenix glanced around, his eyes catching another man heading towards their table. “It looks like the coffee is coming to you,” he remarked, nodding towards the other man.

Mia followed his eyes, her eyes darkening and mouth forming a thin line as someone set a steaming pot of coffee on the table. “Put that back,” she ordered.

The man didn’t flinch, wrapping a dark-skinned hand around the coffee pot to pour himself a mug. He didn’t reply until after taking a long draw, and when he pulled the mug from his mouth he wore a smug grin. Phoenix noted the mug was nearly empty.

“What?” the man asked with a shrug, already pouring another cup. “I’m going to drink it all.”

Mia’s frown deepened. “You can’t steal the whole pot. I’m supposed to keep you in line today, and I’m not going to have you get kicked out of the dining court before school has even started.”

He shrugged, picking the pot up off the table. “You’re no fun, kitten,” he teased, only for Mia’s glare to harshen.

“Wait,” Mia called as the coffee bearing man stepped back. She slid her glass across the table. “Pour me a cup, and then take it back,” she ordered.

The man obliged before putting the coffeepot back where he found it, much to the relief of all the weary staff members waiting in line. Phoenix cocked his head curiously. “Do you know that guy?” he wondered aloud.

Mia sighed happily into her coffee, before shaking her head. “Never seen him before in my life,” she grumbled.

In lieu of a coffeepot, the man brought back a tray loaded with ten steaming mugs of coffee and nothing else. He set the tray down across from Phoenix, on the opposite side of Mia and started chugging his coffee like someone was paying him for it. Phoenix watched him with muted horror, while Mia just reveled in her own cup of coffee.

“Are you going to eat anything?” Phoenix asked cautiously.

The coffee guy paused in his quest to flay the lining of his stomach to give Phoenix an appraising look through dark eyes. Phoenix squirmed in his seat, getting the distinct feeling that he was being judged. What exactly he was being judged for was a mystery to him. But the other man seemed wild and animalistic, dark hair flying away from his face like a lion’s mane, and Phoenix did not want to get on his bad side.

“Coffee is my life’s blood,” he finally said. “Don’t need anything else.” He spoke with a reverence not normally reserved for coffee.

Mia finally gave him another glare. “You’re going to die,” she said. She sounded a bit too happy about that.

Coffee guy shrugged. “We all die one day, kitten.”

“Don’t call me kitten,” she snapped.

Phoenix was saved from witnessing Mia strangle the new kid by the arrival of more of his classmates. A man with red hair and an equally red leather jacket sat next to the coffee addict, while another student very pointedly sat a seat down from Phoenix. He didn’t quite have time to be offended before someone else took the open seat, as more of his classmates filed in. Phoenix kept an eye out for Dahlia to no avail.

Mia eyed everyone as they shuffled to their seats, talking amongst each other as they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. She was not looking forward to having to herd these kids all day. She wasn’t even getting paid for this. When it seemed everyone had settled in, she clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello, good morning, I know you’re all thrilled to be here,” she began, earning a groan of agreement from the crowd. “I’m Mia Fey, I believe I’ll be the TA for your class on Criminal Law, so it’s in your best interest to get on my good side.” She pointedly ignored the wink that received from the man next to her. “As long as you follow me and do as I say, I’ll get you through registration as painlessly as possible,” she promised.

A murmur of agreement rippled across the table and soon the dull roar of early morning chatter resumed. Mia glanced at the students nearest her as awkward silence threatened to consume them. “I’m currently working with Professor Gavin to get my LLM in International Criminal Law, so that’s what I’m doing here. Why don’t you guys tell me why you’re here?” she suggested, nodding towards the men nearest her.

Coffee guy’s face split into a smarmy smirk. “The name’s Diego Ar—”

“Good to know,” Mia interrupted. She pointed to the redhead next to Diego. “What about you?”

Diego sat back in his chair, simmering as he chugged another cup of coffee. The redhead glanced between him and Mia before shrugging. “Well, I’m Doug Swallow.”

Phoenix snorted milk out of his nose. When everyone around him gave him disgusted looks, he tried to cover it up by coughing. When he quieted, Doug continued. “I got my undergrad in chemical engineering at MIT, so I’m here to study patent law. I spent the past summer working with Engineers Without Borders designing a water filtration system in Nicaragua,” he explained.

Mia whistled. “Engineering, pretty impressive,” she mused.

Doug nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I gotta say, I’m glad to be done with it.”

Mia laughed. “Don’t worry, law school should be a breeze then,” she assured.

Doug looked less than convinced. “I don’t know about that.”

Now Mia turned to Phoenix. “What about you, Phoenix?”

Phoenix’s brain went blank as he realized that it was his turn to share. After hearing Doug’s qualifications, he felt that anything he said would look childish in comparison. He was an art major of all things, sitting next to a Harvard graduate and an MIT alum. The most impressive thing he’d done in the past four years was train shelter dogs to finger-paint.

He said the first thing he could think of. “I’m a Sagittarius.”

Diego chuckled darkly, gesturing his last cup of coffee towards Phoenix. “And did your horoscope tell you to sign up for law school?” Then Diego winced and doubled over after Mia kicked him in the shin.

Mia checked her watch. “It’s about time to get you guys registered. Better hurry up before all the good classes are gone.” She quickly got to her feet, grabbing as many plates as she could carry to the dish return.

Like ducklings following their mother, the entire section of law students trailed behind her. They were outside once again, blinking in the sudden light. Mia explained they were walking to a computer lab where they would each register for their section’s courses.

“You’ll all share most of the same classes. This semester you only have one or two electives, depending on how many credits you want, but you’ll have more wiggle room in the future,” she called out to the group, now walking backwards so she could face them. “I’m supposed to be explaining the history of the school while we walk, but I know none of you are paying attention.”

She was proven right when no one responded. Mia pointed to a tall elm tree on top of a small hill to her left. “That’s my favorite tree to nap under between classes. The squirrels that live there are very friendly, they just had their second litter of kittens at the beginning of the month.”

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “Kittens?”

Mia nodded, stepping onto a set of concrete stairs leading up to a building’s entrance. “I know it’s weird, isn’t it? But during my freshman year I saw them and realized I didn’t know what to call squirrel babies and apparently they’re kittens,” she said with a shrug. “The groundskeepers hate me because I keep feeding them.”

Diego appeared beside Phoenix, having pulled another steaming cup of coffee out of hammerspace. “You’re pretty attached to those kittens, kitten.”

“I will roundhouse kick you in the face, don’t try me.”

Before he could respond, Mia pulled open the large double doors at the top of the stairs, revealing a spacious foyer with high ceilings. At the opposite end was a large glass window that peered into what looked to be a large computer lab. The footsteps of over thirty people echoed off the walls. Mia held the door to the computer lab as her ducklings filed in.

“The computers should already be set up for registration, just login with your HLS account info and follow the instructions on the desk. If you’ve forgotten, you’re section seven,” she called out.

Phoenix glanced around for Dahlia, hoping that he might be able to snag a computer next to her so that they could sign up for the same classes. But she was still nowhere to be found. Panic seized him briefly as he wondered if she’d been put in another section. It was certainly a possibility, one that would absolutely ruin his plan to get her back. How was he going to prove to Dollie that he was serious if they weren’t in any of the same classes? What if he never even saw her? Had he come all this way for nothing?

He took a deep breath.

It’s going to be fine, he assured himself. Even if they didn’t have the same classes, he would find some way to prove himself to her. If he had to, he could even sign up for that weird debate thing she always did back at UCLA. He sat down at a computer.

Mia was relieved that everything appeared to be going smoothly. She’d managed to herd the 1Ls between the dining court and the administration building without incident. All last night she’d been plagued with nightmares of her 1L orientation, where one person started crying from homesickness and no less than three people were dismissed before the end of breakfast. Then Dean had very nearly razed their section to the ground. He would regret his decision not to throughout their three years at Harvard.

But Mia had avoided any major problems, besides the sleazy 1L that perpetually smelled of coffee beans. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with a smarmy freshman (though he wasn’t technically a freshman, but he might as well be) and unfortunately it wouldn’t be the last. She just regretted that she’d have to deal with him for the rest of the semester. Her only consolation is that one day she would grade his papers, and she vowed to show no mercy.

Now her flock sat at their computers, ten minutes into registration when they’d been allotted forty-five minutes. Everyone seemed to be handling themselves with ease. Mia was already imagining recollecting them so she could take them on a short tour before dropping them off for lunch with their advisor. At which point she would wave goodbye to the poor suckers and enjoy the rest of her afternoon. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to get that far. Maybe she could hand one of them a map, put them on a bus, and wish them good luck.

At least, that was the plan until someone stuck their hand in the air.

Mia had to resist the urge to groan. It was her job to help after all. She walked over, shoes clacking on the tiled floor. “What is it?” she asked, meaning to sound helpful but instead it came out annoyed.

Phoenix didn’t seem to care. He gave the screen a confused look, where his schedule had been blocked out. “What electives should I sign up for?” he asked.

He was one of those. She very nearly told him to call his mom and ask her, but bit it back at the last minute. “There are a lot of them, it mostly depends on what kind of law you want to go into,” she explained.

Phoenix furrowed his brow and looked to her with confusion. “What kind of law…?” he parroted back.

Mia nodded. “Like Criminal, Tax Law, Corporate,” she listed, ticking them off on her fingers.

The young man’s eyes blew wide. Mia noticed for the first time that they were different colors. “There are different types of lawyers?” he asked incredulously.

Mia met his wide-eyed gaze with exasperation. “Yes.” The kid looked even more lost than when Mia had walked over, and she had a feeling she was making the situation worse. She decided to try a different tactic. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

Now Phoenix just looked panicked. Fair enough, Mia thought. “Why did you come to Harvard Law?”

“Love!” Phoenix answered happily, beaming at her with a dreamy gaze.

Mia blinked. A few moments passed, during which Mia prayed that Phoenix would burst into laughter and admit he was just fucking with her. When that didn’t happen, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s not a valid program of study.” When Phoenix stayed silent, she decided to bite the bullet. “Do you mind if I see the computer for a second?” she sighed.

Phoenix nodded, taking his hands off the keyboard. Mia dove in, looking at the course catalog and comparing it with Phoenix’s schedule. In a few clicks, she had him signed up for a seminar on evidence.

“Here, it’s an easy class, meets once a week. Just show up and you should be good,” she explained.

“Thanks!” Phoenix enthused. Mia just shook her head, turning on her heel and retaking her spot by the door.

A few minutes and a short tour of campus later, Mia had the herd of 1Ls arrived at the student union for lunch with their advisor. She intended to guide them all to their tables and slip out the back door before anyone saw her.

Unfortunately…

“Mia! How nice to see you!” Marvin Grossberg chortled from his seat at a large round table.

Mia stopped in her tracks, groaning inwardly. “Yes. How nice.”

Her former advisor patted the seat next to him. “Come, sit! Tell me how graduate school is going for you!” he insisted.

Like an animal beaten into submission, Mia sat next to Grossberg with her tail between her legs. “It’s pretty good considering it hasn’t started yet.”

“Good, good!” Grossberg said happily.

The 1Ls warily took their own seats around the table. The smarter ones sat at separate tables. Phoenix took the seat next to Mia. Grossberg peered at the students over his glasses. “My, it seems we have a fine crop this year!” he laughed, belly shaking. “I’m excited to get to know all of you over the next three years,” he assured, repeating the same speech Mia had heard three years ago.

He droned on about “this fine institution” that and “paragons of the legal field” that, stopping briefly as food was set down in front of them. Phoenix was too busy glancing around the room to pay attention, looking for a bright shock of red hair among the crowd.

Mia shook her head. Not that Grossberg was particularly interesting, but she couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like Phoenix was doing at Harvard (not to mention, how did he even get in). Most people at Harvard Law had some sort of long term life plan. There weren’t many people that could afford to shell out the cost of tuition not knowing how they were going to earn it back. But as far as Mia could tell, Phoenix had his head too far up in the clouds to see what was right ahead of him.

Her train of thought ground to a halt when Grossberg fell silent, scrunching up his nose. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely, getting up from the table. “My hemorrhoids are doing the Harlem Shake!” he announced, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Silence swallowed all the poor students, broken only by the sound of Grossberg waddling down the hall to the bathroom. With wide eyes, everyone turned to look at Mia for some explanation. She had her head in her hands, cursing Gavin for making her do this.

When she finally looked up, meeting everyone’s eyes, she could only shrug. “Yeah, he does that.” She quickly grabbed her bag, seizing her only chance to escape. “Enjoy Grossberg’s hemorrhoids, I expect to see all of you in class next week!” she called behind her and she sped out of the hall, leaving over thirty young law students, helpless to escape their faculty.

Chapter Text

Phoenix was up bright and early on Monday morning for his first class. The night before he’d laid out the bright pink sweater Dahlia had knit him back in sophomore year. It was sure to catch Dollie’s attention. Phoenix donned the sweater, sitting at his vanity and slicking back his spikes. He was sure to run into Dollie today and he needed to look perfect for the occasion. Satisfied, he grabbed his bag and headed out.

Down the long staircase and out the backdoor, Phoenix stepped into the brisk morning air. The sun had only just risen, and the landscape was shrouded in gray. Phoenix rubbed his arms, thankful that Dahlia’s sweater was warm. It was unfair to make someone trek across campus when it wasn’t light out. It would only get worse as the semester wore on, and eventually Phoenix would be up long before the sun. Who held classes at eight in the morning anyways?

He steeled himself and took his first step. He kept his phone in front of him with a campus map lighting up the screen. His demeanor screamed “newbie” as he kept his map in front of his nose like a lifeline. Phoenix took a small amount of comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one doing so.

His sneakers beat a path on the well-worn concrete, etched into the grass in lazy curves. Like any historic architecture, the buildings had been laid first, grouped together conveniently rather than systematically, and the city had sprouted around it. Suffice to say, the easiest route to Phoenix’s classroom was not the quickest, having him wind around buildings and trees awkwardly before doubling back on himself.

He supposed Harvard had never been well-known for its engineering program. Lawyers were better at building lawsuits than structures.

Despite the roundabout path taken, he made it to Hauser Hall with fifteen minutes to spare. He walked under the arched entryway and found himself in a small lecture hall. Arced rows of seats laid in front of him, tiered so that the back row sat higher than the rest. The chairs were attached to similarly arced black tabletops, which were then bolted into the ground. It was a simple, elegant design.

But Phoenix’s attention was drawn to a familiar figure standing at the back of the room. “Dollie!” he called loudly, his face splitting into a bright grin.

Dahlia whirled to face him, previous conversation halted as she caught sight of him. “Feenie?” she replied incredulously.

Phoenix bounded up the steps two at a time, jittery and thrumming with excitement. This was it, his moment to prove that he was serious enough for Dahlia. He was so sure of himself, that his love would shine through and Dahlia would be a fool to deny she’d been wrong.

He came to a stop in front of her; she looked just he remembered, red hair cascading down to pool on her shoulders, where she wore a crisp navy suit jacket. Her soft brown eyes were blown wide, and pink glossy lips parted in surprise. She was stunning, and Phoenix wanted to kiss her right there.

“It’s so good to see you!” Phoenix enthused, his cheeks flushed a light pink.

Dahlia stared at him open mouthed for a moment before she appeared to collect herself. “It’s… good to see you, too,” she said.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Phoenix’s appearance, the bright yellow “P” on his chest encased in a red heart. He looked like a high school kid that had stumbled onto a college campus. Phoenix was oblivious to her judging eyes, too wrapped up in his own daydreams. Dahlia’s friends watched the two with interest, curious to catch any gossip.

“What are you doing here?” Dahlia finally asked bitingly.

Phoenix’s sunny smile didn’t falter. “I’m here for class!” he explained. “Duh!”

Dahlia blinked at him, unimpressed as she folded her arms. “You go to Harvard Law School?” she said flatly.

“Uh-huh!”

Dahlia continued to frown at him, perplexed at how Phoenix of all people had ended up in front of her when he should still be back in California, lying on the beach and getting a tan. This was an unexpected development, to say the least.

“We should totally catch up later, Dollie!” Phoenix suggested happily. “I want to hear how your summer went!”

Dahlia raised an eyebrow amusedly. By all rights, this was the same harmless Phoenix she’d dumped a year ago. “Sure,” she agreed.

If nothing else, she was looking forward to seeing this train wreck.

“Awesome!” Phoenix said, bounding back to the front of the classroom with a careless wave.

Dahlia waved back, slightly mystified. He friend finally leaned over to ask, “Who was that?”

Dahlia sighed. “My ex.”

More students began to fill the seats, the majority with tired eyes and dragging their heels. The back row filled quickly, while the front row appeared reserved for students who sat straight in their chairs staring straight ahead with bright eyes. Phoenix felt a little out of place among them. But he always preferred to sit in the front row, as it allowed the professor to recognize him. He’d been saved more than once simply because the professor knew his face.

As the classroom filled up, Phoenix found himself squeezed between a woman who was clearly still in pajamas and a gray-haired man in a burgundy sweater. The man beside him periodically gave him surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eye, his frown deepening each time he did. Phoenix offered him a tentative smile, which only served to make the other man huff and pointedly look away.

Phoenix didn’t have time to get offended, as Mia cleared her throat at the front of the classroom, earning everyone’s attention. “Everyone, take your seats, Professor Gavin should be here in just a moment,” she announced, glancing at the clock on the wall.

All idle chatter immediately silenced, all the young law students focusing on Mia, sitting straight with their laptops in front of them, ready to take notes. Looking around, Phoenix realized he was the only one without a computer. He grabbed his bag and searched for something to write on, finding only his sketchpad. He shrugged and turned to a blank page, telling himself he’d bring his computer tomorrow.

Mia looked around the classroom, smiling knowingly. “I see some familiar faces. I remember being new,” she remarked wistfully. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors. Gavin’s ruthless, his test averages are ten percent.” Mia paused, chuckling to herself. “I assure you, his test average is fifteen percent.”

A chill swept through the classroom, the click of Mia’s heels echoed off the walls as she paced at the front of the classroom. “But you’ll all be fine, as long as you remember—”

“You have the right to remain silent.”

Heads whirled around to find the source of the booming voice from the back of the classroom. Standing at the top of the stairs was a man in a blue suit, long blond hair coiled to perfection with glasses perched high on his nose. The creak of the door swinging shut behind him was the only sound, all the students holding their breath for fear of breaking the silence. He cut an imposing figure, arms crossed neatly over his chest as he gracefully stepped down the slope to the front of the classroom. As he walked, his eyes glinted darkly behind his glasses, searching the stands like a lion picking their prey.

Mia scowled up at the professor. “I wasn’t done,” she grumbled.

Phoenix sent her a furtive glance with wide eyes, fearing for her safety. But the professor took it in stride, laughing easily. Though the polite smile he offered still looked sinister. He reached the front of the classroom, taking the class roster that Mia handed him. “Thank you, Ms. Fey.”

Mia nodded, taking a seat at the end of the front row, while Professor Gavin once again surveyed his classroom. “Here in Introduction to Criminal Law, we’ll be dealing with the…. greyer areas of the legal world,” he said easily, voice low but commanding. His volume was barely above a normal speaking voice, yet it clearly reached the back of the classroom, if the shivers running down Dahlia’s spine were to be trusted.

“If you’re not here for Intro to Criminal Law, then you’re in the wrong classroom and I’d ask you to leave,” Gavin said coolly. When no one moved from their seats (in fact no one moved, period), Gavin smiled darkly. “Good.”

Gavin began pacing slowly at the front of the class, each step causing students to wince as his eyes continued to watch the crowd, bloodthirsty and raw. “Criminal Law is a fascinating subject. Not like those cut-and-dry classes,” he sneered. “Other classes have their right answers and simple morals. It’s good, for the simple-minded,” he mused. “Here there are no right answers,” he hissed.

Gavin came to a stop in front of a young man’s chair. He smiled down at the student, until the poor man shrunk back in his chair. Seemingly satisfied, he turned on his heel and began walking to the other side.

“In Contracts you’ll learn about legal obligation and in Torts you’ll learn about liability. But here,” he continued, wearing a wicked grin. “You’ll learn how to fight.” Gavin glanced down at the class roster, selecting a name and turning to face the crowd. “Mr. Swallow.”

Tentatively, Doug raised his hand from the back of the classroom. Gavin offered a gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Stand up so we can see you,” he instructed.

Doug quickly scrambled to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

Gavin nodded, pleased with the response. “A poor old woman gave your client her life’s savings and told him to invest it. But instead, he took the money and bought prostitutes and heroin. Now tell me, would you take this case?” When he finished, the room was silent once again, all eyes focused firmly on Doug Swallow.

Doug was clearly shaking in his shoes. “Um. No?” he murmured.

Gavin cupped a hand around his ear. “What was that? Speak up, I can’t hear you,” he ordered.

Doug cleared his throat, before saying, loud enough to clearly reach the front. “I said no, I wouldn’t take that case.”

Gavin smirked to himself. “Wrong,” he said easily. “It’d be an easy win. Grandma’s out of money so she’ll have a hack from Legal Aid. Once you win you have a powerful and rich business partner.”

Doug stared at Professor Gavin, horrified. The rest of the class shared similar looks, wondering if the man in front of them was really encouraging them to represent criminals. “Um, but sir…” Doug said shakily. “Isn’t that illegal?”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Is what illegal? Be specific,” he snapped.

“Defending a client you know is guilty,” Doug explained.

“But if you defend him well, then as far as the law is concerned, he isn’t guilty,” Gavin explained smoothly. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Truth is a tricky subject. Dismissed, Mr. Swallow.”

Doug sank into his chair heavily, letting out an audible breath. Gavin glanced back to the roster. “Mr. Wright,” he called.

Phoenix shot to his feet, accidentally elbowing the man next to him in his haste. Gavin watched with amusement. “Answer this, Wright—”

He was interrupted by the door creaking open, Diego shuffling in with a steaming mug of coffee. Gavin’s eyes immediately zeroed in on him, and he turned from Phoenix to focus his full attention on the newcomer.

“What’s your name?” he spat, glaring daggers at Diego, who stood completely still when he realized his sneaky entrance hadn’t been so sneaky.

“Diego Armando,” he replied, standing tall in front of his professor.

Gavin scowled. “Tell me, Mr. Armando, what was so important that you missed the first few minutes of class?”

Diego met Gavin’s eyes, seemingly unfazed. “I needed to get my morning coffee.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, as Diego noisily sipped said coffee under Professor Gavin’s nose. “Now that you’ve chosen to grace us with your presence, I’ll have you answer the question I was about to ask Mr. Wright,” he said easily.

Phoenix let out a relieved sigh, sinking back into his chair. “So, Mr. Armando,” Gavin began. “Your client is a notorious hitman for the mafia, but he missed his latest target and instead took out a nun. Would you defend him?” he asked, staring Diego down with malicious eyes.

Diego gave him a strange look, before his eyes landed on Mia, who sat perched at the end of the row nearest him. He gave her a wicked grin. “Hm, I don’t know. Kitten, what do you think?” he asked slyly.

Mia rolled her eyes, ignoring him while Gavin sneered at Diego. “You fuckboys think you’re so clever.”

That seemed to catch Diego off guard, his eyes widening as he nearly dropped his coffee. Gavin just smirked, pleased at the snickers that erupted in the crowd at Diego’s expense. “Sit down,” he finally ordered. “And next time provide ample time to get your coffee.”

Diego nodded, struck speechless by his public humiliation. He slid into the nearest open seat, nursing his coffee like a wounded animal. “My point is that I run a billion dollar law firm, and I hire four interns each year. That is to say…” Gavin turned his dark eyes back on his students. “I’ll hire four of you. But if you expect me to give you a guaranteed career, I expect you to fight for it. You need to be ruthless and leave your scruples at the door. Now.”

Gavin turned back to Phoenix. “Wright, stand up,” he ordered.

Phoenix groaned inwardly, doing as told. He’d thought his neck had been saved by Diego’s entrance. Gavin raised an eyebrow at him. “Summarize the case of State of Indiana v. Hearn from your assigned reading.”

Phoenix’s blood went cold. There’d been an assigned reading? He glanced around him, where he saw that all of his classmate’s eyes were on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he managed to get a glimpse of the back row and, yup, Dahlia was definitely watching him. He had to come up with something, because making a fool of himself in front of everyone was not the way to prove he was serious.

While Phoenix racked his brain, Professor Gavin’s glare had devolved from sinister to positively murderous. “You did do the assigned reading, didn’t you?”

Phoenix gulped. “Who assigns reading for the first day of class?” he laughed, turning to his side and expecting to find his peers laughing with him.

Instead, he was met with shocked stares and wide eyes as all heads turned to Gavin to see what he would do. Gavin levelled Phoenix with and icy glare. “You’ve got guts, Mr. Wright,” he said drily. He pointed to the gray haired man next to Phoenix. “Name.”

The man stood, much more gracefully than Phoenix had. “Miles Edgeworth, sir,” he offered, giving his professor a polite bow.

Gavin was decidedly pleased at the show of respect. “Do you think it’s acceptable that Mr. Wright is unprepared?” he asked.

Phoenix met his classmate’s eyes, giving him a pleading look. Surely he had to understand? Phoenix had better things to do during the summer than read a silly textbook! He tried to explain his situation with his eyes. I’m trying to prove to my ex-girlfriend that I’m serious so we can get married and have the perfect life, please don’t throw me under the bus! The other man’s steel gray eyes met his, and if the message was conveyed, Edgeworth was clearly unimpressed.

Edgeworth turned to Professor Gavin. “No,” he said firmly.

Gavin was pleased with that answer. “And what would you do in my place?”

Edgeworth gave Phoenix a cold unyielding stare as he replied, “I’d throw him out.”

Phoenix stared at Edgeworth, open-mouthed as Gavin smiled darkly. “Alright then.” He turned back to Phoenix as Edgeworth sat down, clearly pleased with himself. “You heard Mr. Edgeworth. Grab your things.”

Phoenix’s face flushed a deep crimson and he hurriedly collected his sketchpad, holding it to his chest as he sidled out of the row. The entire classroom was silent, all eyes following him as he made his way to the door, steps echoing loudly. Gavin’s blue eyes burned worst of all.

“Oh, Mr. Wright,” his professor called gently. Phoenix slowly turned to face him, watching him sheepishly. “If you come back,” he said pointedly. “I expect you not to waste my time.”

Phoenix nodded, his gut twisting painfully as he ducked his head and slipped out the door. Professor Gavin made a show of locking it behind him. He turned back to his class, polite smile having returned.

“Now, who would like to summarize State of Indiana v. Hearn?”

Chapter Text

Phoenix narrowly avoided getting hit by the door on his way out as it slammed with a loud “bang!” He whirled around, staring forlornly at the large wooden door, now sealed shut like the Chamber of Secrets. Other students passing by glanced at Phoenix, watching him eye the door like a puppy caught out in the rain. All he needed to do was start whimpering to complete the image.

Phoenix wasn’t exactly sure what to do now that he’d been kicked out. His next class wasn’t for another two hours, but that wasn’t the most troubling thought. No, his biggest concern was getting back into class with Dollie. After the spectacle he’d made of himself, how was he going to redeem himself? Getting kicked out of class on the first day wasn’t the hallmark of a “serious” person.

Maybe he’d be able to sneak in the back like the professor had? He quickly shot down that idea when he remembered the layout of the classroom didn’t exactly allow one to sneak in. From the podium, Professor Gavin could see every inch, and Phoenix was sure to be spotted if he tried to slip in.

Phoenix’s plans were interrupted when the door creaked open once again. He perked up, secretly hoping another student had been kicked out (preferably that Edgeworth guy). Mia slipped through the door, gently closing it behind her.

“Hey,” she greeted.

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “Did he kick you out, too?” he wondered, perplexed.

Mia rolled her eyes. “No, I came out here to check on you, butthead,” she explained, as if that should have been obvious.

Phoenix perked up slightly. “Oh, thanks.”

“Listen, I know some perfectly good lawyers that got kicked out of class their first year. I know it’s embarrassing, but your law career isn’t over,” she assured him, offering a gentle smile.

Phoenix sighed dejectedly. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He bit his bottom lip, his eyes clouded. “I need to get back into class with Dollie!” he wailed. “How can I prove myself to her if I’m out here?”

He was met with a blank stare. He was pretty sure that vein on Mia’s forehead hadn’t been there before.

Phoenix soldiered on. “Is there any way you can get me back in there?” he pleaded.

Mia rubbed her temple. “Right now?” Phoenix nodded. “No.”

Phoenix resigned himself to wallowing in despair. Mia stared at him with horror as his bottom lip started quivering. He looked about to cry. “Kid, calm down,” she ordered.

Phoenix sniffled, eyes shining. Mia groaned, “Just show up tomorrow and make sure you’ve actually read the book,” she advised. “Gavin’s going to grill you on it.”

Phoenix settled down, all signs of incoming tears vanishing. “Will it prove I’m serious?”

“Sure, if it makes you feel better,” Mia grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Okay!” Phoenix said brightly. “I’ll read the whole book!” he declared, glowing with renewed vigor.

Mia winced. “How about you start with the section the professor assigns?”

Phoenix pursed his lips, seeming to consider this for a moment. “That sounds like a good plan! Thanks, Mia!”

Mia nodded, still giving Phoenix a strange look as she turned and walked back into the classroom, where Professor Gavin continued to lecture a crowd of half-conscious students on the appropriate procedure for appeals. The door closed once more, leaving Phoenix standing in the hallway alone. Again, he wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be. He was still left with a lot of time to kill. Did he wait here? Go back to his room and take a nap?

Eventually, he decided to take a seat on one of the benches outside the lecture hall. He could at least meet up with Dahlia when she exited class. Hopefully it would give him a chance to save face. Phoenix was fortunate in that class got out early, the first of his classmates exiting about twenty minutes before the end of the hour.

One of the first students out the door was a familiar man in a burgundy sweater. “Excuse me,” Phoenix called, shooting out of his seat.

Edgeworth stopped, turning to Phoenix with a dry glare. His mouth was firm, unresponsive as he scowled at Phoenix, waiting for him to continue. “Why would you do that to someone?” Phoenix demanded.

Edgeworth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And what did I do, exactly?” he replied, voice dripping with disdain.

Phoenix resisted the urge to pout as he barked out a reply. “You’re not helping anyone by making others look bad!”

Edgeworth stepped out of the path of other students, clutching the strap on his messenger bag with white knuckles. “Please,” he scoffed. “I didn’t make you look bad, you did a fine job of that on your own.”

Phoenix frowned, glaring at him. “You don’t have to be mean.”

Edgeworth returned Phoenix’s glare with a chilling stare, eyes cold and unfeeling. “Are you five?” he spat. “You weren’t prepared. That’s disrespectful of your classmates’ time and it is not my responsibility to carry you.”

Phoenix’s face grew hot at the accusation, driving Edgeworth to continue. “I am here to learn. If you’re not, then you have no place here.”

Phoenix opened his mouth to tell Edgeworth to get the massive stick out of his ass when, like a guardian angel, Dahlia appeared between them. “Oh, Feenie, I see you’ve met Miles,” she said, looking between the two men with amused eyes.

“You know him?” Phoenix and Edgeworth asked in unison.

Dahlia giggled. Actually giggled, as if Phoenix’s pain was something to laugh at. “Miles, Phoenix is an old friend,” she explained.

“We dated,” Phoenix added defensively.

“Used to date,” Dahlia clarified at Edgeworth’s disbelieving look. When he continued to look unimpressed, Dahlia just shrugged. She turned to Phoenix. “Feenie, this is Miles Edgeworth—”

“I know,” Phoenix grumbled.

“—and he’s a family friend,” she finished, shooting Phoenix a glare. He got the message. “Play nice.”

The three fell into a tense silence, as the two men held an impromptu staring contest, daring the other to stay something first. The air sizzled as Edgeworth’s stony gray eyes met Phoenix’s determined glare. They were lost in their own little world, while Dahlia watched with thinly veiled amusement. Just when it seemed she was about to set up a popcorn stand and start selling tickets, Edgeworth huffed and looked away.

Phoenix resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air (barely).

“I have better places to be,” he said haughtily, turning to Dahlia. “I’ll see you for study group tomorrow?”

Dahlia nodded with a sweet smile. “Of course!”

Edgeworth turned away with a flourish, Phoenix imaged if he were wearing a coat it would whirl around him. As he stalked off, Phoenix glared at his back, wondering if he could burn a hole in that ugly sweater.

Dahlia cleared her throat.

“That color isn’t even in season!” Phoenix declared, personally offended by Edgeworth’s choice of clothing.

Dahlia shook her head amusedly. “Regardless of his taste in clothing, he’s very intelligent.”

“He’s also a jerk,” Phoenix grumbled testily.

“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” Dahlia agreed. “But not too bad once you get to know him.”

Phoenix stuck out his tongue. “And I have no desire to get to know him.” He effectively banished all thoughts of the sullen man from his mind, turning his full attention to Dahlia. “But it’s so great to see you! How have you been?”

Dahlia peered at Phoenix carefully, trying to determine his motives. “I’ve been well, thank you. I can’t believe you got into Harvard. I never knew you had an interest in law.”

Phoenix beamed at her. “Yeah, I can’t believe it either sometimes!” he agreed. “I wasn’t quite ready to go out into the real world and law school seems as good as anything, right?”

The look that earned gave Phoenix the impression that wasn’t the right answer. “I suppose,” she hummed.

A man wearing a bold Union Jack jogged over to Dahlia, easily sliding into their conversation. Phoenix recognized him as Doug. “Hey, Dollie, who’s this?” he asked pleasantly.

Dahlia smiled at Doug, sidling closer to him. “This is Phoenix. We were friends back at UCLA,” she explained.

Phoenix’s eyes zeroed in on Doug’s arm as it slowly wound around Dahlia’s waist with all the slyness of a snake. “Wow, small world, huh?” he laughed, staring down at Dahlia.

Dahlia hummed in agreement, cheeks flushing a light pink as Phoenix’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Um, who’s this?” he asked timidly.

Dahlia started, seemingly have forgotten that Phoenix was even there. “Oh! This is Dougie,” she explained, as Doug offered Phoenix his free hand. The other was still on Dahlia’s waist.

Phoenix eyed Doug’s offered hand like it was contagious. After a long moment, he took it, making sure to squeeze just a little too tightly. Even so, Doug just smiled at him.

“Doug’s my boyfriend,” Dahlia said sweetly as Phoenix’s dreams crumbled around him.

He stared between the two, open-mouthed. It was only yesterday that Dahlia had broken up with him! How could she move on so quickly? All his dreams of a great big wedding went up in smoke. Instead Dahlia was going to get married to this British wannabee and have a bunch of ginger children that spoke in fake English accents. It was a travesty.

“Is he alright?” Doug whispered to his girlfriend. “He looks a little pale.”

Dahlia shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

Chapter Text

Across the ocean, winding through the streets of London, up the brick face of an old apartment building, and finally through an open window, Ema lay, sleeping soundly. Moonlight spilled over the windowsill, casting dull, silvery light over Ema’s face. A cool autumn breeze buffeted the chiffon curtains; in the soft light they shined like gossamer wings. It was a scene pulled from an impressionist painting, with fanciful stillness that betrayed how frantic it had been only hours before.

The only remnants of Ema’s frenzied studying were the papers scattered across the floor, and the laptop snoozing on the vanity. Ema’s dreams were fraught with Erlenmeyer flasks filled with volatile liquids and chemical fires. But the room was still, silent but for the cars passing outside.

At least until Skype rang, with all the grace of an air raid siren.

Much like a dead body flung from the back of a hearse, Ema hit the floor with a dull thud. “I don’ wanna go,” she mumbled, grabbing the blanket tangled around her legs and pulling it over her head.

It took her a second to realize the tone blaring throughout her bedroom was Skype and not her alarm. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the sound and go back to sleep. Ema couldn’t be bothered to get back into bed, so she resigned herself to her new home on the floor. The ringtone stopped after about thirty seconds. Ema hummed contentedly into her warm nest of blankets.

Then it started ringing again.

Maybe it’s an emergency, she briefly thought. And then she remembered she was Ema Skye and the world was never that kind. She began the arduous journey across the floor, her sheets trailing behind her like a slug’s slime trail. She didn’t bother pulling herself into her chair before she moved the mouse to accept the call. When one Phoenix Wright lit up one half of the screen accompanied by Larry Butz, Ema was going to poison their birthday presents.

In a related development, Phoenix peered at his screen through watery eyes, seeing a black void where Ema’s face should be. “It’s really dark over there, Ema,” he remarked.

Even though her face was out of frame, her voice crackled through the speakers loud and clear. “That’s because it’s two AM, asshole!”

A series of grunts came over the line as Ema hefted herself into her chair, a sea monster rising from the great black abyss, her rocket ship patterned blanket standing in for seaweed. She reached over to click on her lamp, bathing herself in a white light. Phoenix shuddered at the glare he suffered. Muffled by distance and shitty Wi-Fi, Ema’s eyes still burned like dark coal on his screen, murderous and ready to set him ablaze.

“Right. Time zones,” he said belatedly.

Ema begged the heavens to give her strength. “Does Harvard regret accepting you yet?” she deadpanned.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as Phoenix spiraled into a new round of sniffles.

Larry pouted at the screen. “Ema don’t be mean! Nick is suffering!”

Ema turned her glare on Larry and his shitty goatee. “He better be, after waking me up.” She refrained from pointing out that “mean” was her default state.

Phoenix started wailing like a dying cat. “Dollie’s dating someone else!” he cried, big crocodile tears beading at the corner of his eyes.

Larry looked ready to cry in sympathy. “Oh Nick, stay strong!”

“So, how’s that brilliant plan of yours working out?” Ema remarked drily.

In his state of grief, Phoenix wasn’t capable of understanding sarcasm. “Terribly, Ema!” he cried. “I came all this way and she doesn’t love me anymore!”

“I can’t imagine why. You’re such a catch,” Ema drawled.

“It’ll be okay, Nick! You just have to win her back!” Larry assured.

Phoenix sniffled. “You think I can do that?” he whimpered.

Ema rolled her eyes, which unfortunately didn’t translate well through her webcam.

“Of course, Nick! She loved you once, right?”

Phoenix seemed to brighten. “You’re right! I just have to prove to her that I’m serious and she’ll leave that boring British wannabe!” he said confidently.

Larry gave him a thumbs up, pleased with Phoenix’s new outlook. “Exactly, you’ve gotta be like, twice as good looking as him! He’s probably all pale and pasty from the east coast, just show off your tan and she’ll remember that California boys are way more fun!”

Phoenix pursed his lips contemplating Larry’s advice. “How can I show off my tan?”

“Just walk around shirtless!” Larry insisted. “All day every day, you’ll be irresistible!” Larry promised.

Ema snorted. “Right, because fragile masculinity and an ego the size of Texas is what I look for in a mate.”

“Really?”

“No,” Ema groaned. This boy was hopeless.

Not to be outdone, Larry chimed in. “Nick, you have the best ass I’ve ever seen, just shake your junk at her and she’ll remember why she loved you in the first place!”

“For my butt?” Phoenix wondered confusedly.

Ema covered her face in secondhand embarrassment. “Jesus, Larry, I thought you were straight,” she grumbled.

“Of course I am!” Larry exclaimed defensively. “I just think Nick has a nice butt.”

Ema sighed in exasperation. “Regardless of Nick’s assets, do not shake your junk at Dahlia.”

Phoenix pouted dejectedly. “Then what do you think I should do, Ema?” he asked.

Ema saw her chance to try and talk some sense into her friend (why was he her friend?) and she wasn’t about to let it slip by. “Well, you could start by not being a creepy asshole, but I think that ship has already sailed,” she began.

At Phoenix’s blank look, she soldiered on. “How about you focus on your studies. You know, the thing you’re in school for,” she said pointedly.

Phoenix’s face lit up and for one, glorious moment, Ema thought she’d finally gotten through to him. “You’re exactly right!” Phoenix gasped. “Doing well in school is the perfect way to prove to Dollie that I’m serious!”

Ema wasn’t sure why she expected any different. Phoenix leaned down to grab his book bag and shot out of his seat. “Thanks you guys! I have to go to the library and start studying! Maybe Dollie will be there!” he chirped happily.

And with that the call ended, leaving Ema to her dark room. She sighed, shutting her laptop and clicking off her desk lamp. All she could do was hope she hadn’t spawned a monster.

Back at Harvard, Phoenix shouldered his (near empty) book bag and set off for the law school library. He knew that some of his classmates were meeting up there to study this afternoon, so all he had to do was make a good impression. He made a pit stop at the campus bakery to get a dozen bagels. The best way to get in people’s good graces was to bring food, right? Especially college students. They’d do anything for free food.

Bag of bagels in hand, Phoenix made a quick journey to the library, taking the pale stone steps two at a time. Inside, he found the place bigger than he’d imagined, with stacks upon stacks of books stretching as far as the eye could see. It was like Wonderland for boring people. And in the midst of all the records of legal jargon were long tables hedged by plastic chairs that caressed the butts of tired students.

There were a lot of students, many more than Phoenix had expected. What kind of losers went to the library during the first week of school? Then Phoenix remembered that he was one of those losers now. He straightened his back and set off to find his classmates in the paper jungle.

Jungle was definitely a fitting term, as the smell of warm bagels caused students to sniff the air as Phoenix walked past, turning to watch him with cat-like eyes until he disappeared from view. His hair stood on end, more so than usual, as he waited to be pounced on like an antelope in the savannah.

Thankfully, he found his prize before that happened. “Dollie!” he called out excitedly.

His volume earned nasty glares, but he ignored them as he trotted up to the table where she sat. Phoenix glumly noted that Doug sat on her left, and on her right…

“What are you doing here?” Edgeworth snapped with narrowed eyes.

Dahlia sent Edgeworth a look telling him to back off before turning softer eyes on Phoenix. “Feenie, what are you doing here?” she asked, eyeing the bag in his hands. On the other end of the table, Diego’s eyes locked on the bag, nostrils flaring as he caught wind of food.

Phoenix ignored him, attention focused solely on Dahlia. “I heard you guys had a study group, and I figured you must be hungry,” he said happily, holding up the large bag, plentiful with food for everyone to see.

Dahlia gave him a polite smile. “That’s so sweet of you!”

Phoenix beamed at her, passing off the bagels. “So, would it be alright if I joined you?” he asked.

“We’re full,” Edgeworth snapped immediately.

Phoenix sent him a heated glare, which Edgeworth met with a smug half-grin. He gestured at the seats around the table. “As you can see, there’s no more room.”

As Edgeworth said, all the chairs at the table were occupied. Phoenix’s face fell. Dahlia gave Edgeworth a displeased look. “He can pull up another chair,” she said under her breath.

Edgeworth met her eyes before sighing dramatically. “One moment please,” he said to Phoenix, before he turned to the table.

All the study group members leaned in, speaking in hushed voices. Phoenix rocked back on his heels, only catching bits and pieces of the ongoing debate.

“—brought food! I’m about to pass out!” Diego hissed.

“…clearly doesn’t know…” Edgeworth countered.

“It can’t hurt to—” Dahlia insisted.

“….kicked out…” Edgeworth mumbled.

“Just give him…” Dahlia pleaded.

The debate continued for a few more moments before Edgeworth straightened with yet another dramatic sigh. He turned on Phoenix with those same cold eyes from before.

“You can stay, if you do one thing,” Edgeworth said calmly.

Phoenix resisted the urge to dance. “Sure, anything!” he said, unable to contain his glee.

“Define malum prohibitum.”

Crickets sounded helplessly in Phoenix’s mind. “Um. What?”

Once again, Edgeworth smiled smugly, his eyes nearly gleeful. “Every member of this study group is expected to contribute. If you can prove you’ve done the reading then we’ll be happy to let you in.”

Phoenix gaped at the man in front of him. Apparently throwing him out of class wasn’t enough, but he had to embarrass him in front of all of his friends as well.

When no response came forward, Edgeworth gave Phoenix a fake polite smile. “Then I think our answer is clear.”

Dahlia smiled at Phoenix apologetically. “Thanks for the food, Feenie.”

With burning cheeks, Phoenix stormed off, hoping the floor would go ahead and swallow him whole. All he could do was read his textbook and return to class the next morning. When he arrived, Edgeworth was already sitting in the same seat at the front of the room. Phoenix squared his shoulders and marched up next to him, determined not to let his obnoxious classmate scare him out of a perfectly good seat. Edgeworth eyed him disdainfully when he sat down, but otherwise looked straight ahead, content to ignore Phoenix.

Two can play at that game, Phoenix thought, returning the favor and pretending that instead of Edgeworth, a screaming black void was beside him. Professor Gavin arrived minutes later, and Phoenix didn’t miss the way Gavin’s blue eyes locked on him. It made his skin crawl, but he shook it off, determined to sit tall. Neither Gavin nor Edgeworth was going to get the better of him.

At the turn of the hour, the first words out of Professor Gavin’s mouth were, “Mr. Wright, I see you’ve decided to return.”

Phoenix swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Stand up,” Gavin ordered.

On shaky legs, Phoenix rose, spine straight and chin forward. Professor Gavin took three measured steps, coming to a stop in front of his student. They stood nose to nose and Phoenix hoped the sheen of sweat on his brow wasn’t too obvious.

“Define malum prohibitum,” Gavin ordered.

Phoenix brightened. “That’s an action prohibited by law,” he said gleefully, mentally giving himself a pat on the back. He didn’t dare look, but he hoped Edgeworth was steaming in his seat at having practically given him the answer.

“Examples?” Gavin prodded.

“Um, jaywalking. Copyright infringement?” Phoenix supplied.

Gavin nodded, seemingly pleased with those answer. “And malum in se?”

Phoenix racked his brain, glancing down at his notebook open on the desk. “That’s a, um. Action that is…” he trailed off, face growing hot as he struggled to remember the words. He knew he’d read them!

Gavin raised an eyebrow, growing unimpressed with Phoenix’s performance. “Oh! Evil! An action that’s evil within itself!” Phoenix remembered.

Gavin nodded. “Like…?”

Phoenix suddenly drew a complete blank, nerves and stage fright getting the better of him as his mouth went dry. “Edgeworth’s hair,” he blurted.

The classroom was silent for a moment, before Phoenix’s response registered, and peals of laughter rippled through the courtroom. When Phoenix dared to glance beside him, Edgeworth’s eyes were nothing short of venomous.

Edgeworth scoffed. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Sonic,” he hissed.

As a paragon of maturity, Phoenix chose to stick his tongue out at Edgeworth. “And they shouldn’t have my grandpa’s hairstyle either.”

Gavin cleared his throat, getting both students’ attention. His hand covered his face, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Save the fighting for the courtroom,” he said brusquely. Though Phoenix could almost swear he saw a twitch at the corner of the professor’s mouth that almost looked like a smile.

When the dull roar of the classroom quieted Gavin continued. “Sit down, Wright,” he ordered. “It’s clear to me that you opened your textbook. Next time, I’d suggest you try reading it,” he said pointedly.

When Gavin returned to the podium to get his notes, Phoenix considered it a victory that he was still on this side of the door.

Chapter Text

To Phoenix’s dismay, his first day of law school was not the last time he got kicked out of class. As much as he tried to keep on top of his assignments, he had trouble staying focused long enough to actually read them. Why did he care about class action lawsuits against Viagra when there were things to do, people to see? (And also people to do, but that was another issue.) Phoenix would skim the text and manage to convince himself that he knew it well enough to wing it, ignoring the fact that as soon as he closed the book the information was already lost.

Law school was a completely different world from art. Instead of being tested on his ability and aptitude for the subject, he was expected to memorize by rote and be able to recite what he’d learned on command. The important information was never easy to find, Phoenix always had to climb over endless blocks of black ink, stretching up from the page like mountains, carefully crafted to make the cases as unclear as possible. Frequently, Phoenix would finish a page and find that he had no idea what he’d just read.

The fact that Gavin had it out for him after that first day didn’t help. Phoenix continued to be astounded by the number of times his professor would call on him in one class. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d done to incite the professor’s wrath, but he dearly wished he could take it back. Out of all his students, Phoenix was very clearly his favorite punching bag, and he showed no sign of letting up.

Which brings us to today.

“Well, clearly the mechanical failure is due to faulty manufacturing, so yeah, the plaintiff has a case,” Phoenix argued. At Professor Gavin’s blank stare, Phoenix broke out into a nervous sweat. “Um, right?”

Gavin frowned, displeased with Phoenix’s hesitance. A dark shadow passed through his eyes and he turned away from Phoenix, hawk eyes scanning the classroom. Phoenix let out a relieved sigh, assuming that Gavin was done with him and would move onto someone else. But naturally, Phoenix couldn’t be so lucky.

“Mr. Swallow,” Gavin called sharply. “What is your response to Mr. Wright’s claim?”

Phoenix cursed inwardly, straightening as he realized the fight wasn’t over just yet. At the back of the classroom, Doug stood shakily as all eyes zeroed in. Phoenix looked over his shoulder, finding some comfort in Doug’s own nervous jitters. The tiered classroom put Doug at a higher elevation, looking down on Phoenix like a Roman emperor in the coliseum. Phoenix was but a lone gladiator, scrabbling for every victory however small. And this classroom was his arena, where you emerged victorious or dead.

It was a good thing Phoenix could rise from the ashes, because he’d already “died.” He was pretty sure part of him died every time he walked through the door.

Doug shuffled through his notes, brow furrowed in concentration. “I’d have to disagree. Most cases of ladder failure are caused by human error rather than faulty manufacturing,” he explained.

It seemed Phoenix was going to have to fight today. “What do you mean human error?” he challenged. Gavin stepped to the side, letting his students have at it while he sipped his coffee.

Doug met Phoenix’s eyes, and the determination in them was clear. Doug meant to shove Phoenix to the ground and trample on his corpse in hopes of gaining Professor Gavin’s favor. That boat had already sailed for Phoenix, and by the time he realized it, his hopes had already vanished on the horizon. He was content with the knowledge that he no longer had anything to lose.

“Most ladders come with directions for proper use, the right angle to set them at, how much weight they should bear,” Doug explained, eyes glancing down to his notes for confirmation.

At his side, Dahlia gave him a reassuring smile. Phoenix didn’t miss her hand giving Doug’s a squeeze. His heart hammered in his chest, aching. If Phoenix was going up in flames, he was taking Doug with him.

Phoenix cleared his throat, flipping feverishly through his textbook. “Nice try, but at you can see from the diagram on page 164, the device in question is clearly a stepladder.”

The entire room was silent, waiting for the punchline. When none came, Phoenix was met with seventy perplexed pairs of eyes. Even the professor had raised an eyebrow, but made no motion to intervene.

Doug glanced to Dahlia. Is this guy for real? Dahlia just shrugged. Everyone seemed to assume she knew what the hell Phoenix was doing. If they knew Phoenix at all, they’d soon realize that Phoenix didn’t even know what he was doing.

Doug looked back to Phoenix and held up his hands. “So?”

Not to be outdone, Phoenix slammed his hand on the table (right in front of Miles). “So?” he mimicked. “A stepladder is a much more complex piece of machinery, with more moving parts and, most importantly, less chance of human error,” Phoenix claimed glibly.

Doug gave him and unimpressed glare. “Evidence?”

And therein lied the rub. What this called for was some misdirection. Phoenix pointed at Doug accusingly. “I think you’ll find the burden of proof is on you, Mr. Swallow!” he claimed. In reality, Phoenix had no idea what the rules were, it’s not like he actually read the book. “Where’s your evidence that these ladders meet the specifications?”

Once again, Doug glanced around to his friends and gestured at Phoenix as if saying, can you get a load of this guy? But Gavin still didn’t step in, instead leaning his back against the chalkboard and watching his students bicker like schoolchildren. So Doug found his proof, ridiculous though the request may be.

“Here, it says the telescoping hinges in the ladder were found to exceed the specifications on the label.”

“Ha! Stepladders don’t have telescoping hinges!” Phoenix cried victoriously.

Doug grit his teeth. “The diagram you’re referencing is clearly just a example and not meant to represent the actual product. They’re just ladders!”

Phoenix crossed his arms over his chest, taking a confident stance. He could afford to be confident when he had no idea what the hell he was talking about. “If they’re all just ladders, then tell me why the classification for stepladders is necessary,” he challenged.

Professor Gavin finally cleared his throat, cutting Phoenix’s tirade short. “While this discussion has been… interesting, you’re focusing on minor details rather than the facts of the case. And while this is a useful misdirection tactic…”

“A stepladder is literally just two ladders put together, please tell me how that’s different,” Doug shouted, interrupting the professor.

Gavin looked as if he’d been slapped. “Mr. Swallow, please cease this—”

Phoenix chuckled to himself. “I thought you were an engineer. You of all people should know the benefits of a stepladder.”

Dahlia pleaded Doug with her eyes. “Dougie, please just let it go,” she said softly, gently tugging on his sleeve.

Doug shook her off and glared daggers at the asshole in the front row. “First of all, I’m a chemical engineer.”

Dahlia put her head in her hands. “Not this again,” she grumbled, while her friend gently rubbed her back.

“Second, you have to look past the design to the essence of the thing. In which case, all the hinges don’t change the fact that it’s still just two ladders taped together.”

“Mr. Swallow!” Gavin barked. “If the two of you don’t stop this petty argument, I’ll be forced to remove you from the classroom.”

Doug clenched his fists, already lowering himself back into his seat.

“Doug’s just mad that he didn’t know what a stepladder is.”

The next he knew, Professor Gavin personally grabbed his arm and dragged Phoenix and Doug from the room, ignoring Doug’s outraged objections. The two men were summarily thrown out the door before it locked behind them. Phoenix shrugged. All in a day’s work.

What he didn’t expect was Doug grabbing the collar of his shirt. “What the hell was that, you prick!”

Phoenix scoffed. “Prick, Jesus Christ who says that, stop trying to be British.”

Doug growled, letting go of Phoenix and throwing his hands up. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? Now Professor Gavin associates me with you, and he hates you.”

Phoenix’s pride was gutted. “It’s not my fault! You started it!” Phoenix accused.

Doug whirled on him with angry eyes. “How do you figure that?” he demanded.

Phoenix threw up his hands. “You just had to prove me wrong and make a fool out of me to make yourself look good in front of the class! Like you think I don’t do enough of that on my own that you need to join in?”

He tried to conceal the actual hurt in his voice, but it was difficult. Phoenix so often wore his emotions on his sleeves, but things were different here, and if he wanted to avoid ridicule, he needed to build up his walls.

The strange look Doug gave him suggested he’d heard. “It’s not my fault that you don’t put in enough effort.”

Phoenix refrained from stomping his feet like an angry child. “Shut the fuck up, you have no idea how much effort I put in!” he shouted.

Doug rolled his eyes. “Clearly it’s not enough, given the fact that you clearly don’t know anything.”

“Why don’t you get put on the spot every day and see how well you operate under pressure!” Phoenix challenged.

“He puts you on the spot because you don’t know anything!”

“I do know! It’s incredibly hard to prove that when you’re being made a spectacle of.”

The classroom door creaked open, and both men’s eyes shot to the crack. Mia poked her head out of the door. “The professor told me to ask you to please ‘either shut up or continue your masculine posturing somewhere the rest of us don’t have to hear you.’”

Phoenix flushed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Mia slid back in, the door closing behind her. Doug’s eyes fell back to Phoenix once again. “Frankly, I don’t care how hard you’re trying because it’s not good enough.” He pointed towards the classroom. “Everyone in there is trying! But only some of us actually belong here. If you think that trying your best is enough then you’re not one of them.”

That was the truth of the matter, wasn’t it? Phoenix didn’t belong here, no matter how hard he tried, the fruits of his labor didn’t measure up to that of his peers. That was the fundamental difference between art and law, trying and practicing didn’t make him more knowledgeable, nor did it make him a better speaker. All the things he’d learned over the past four years were useless here. He was expected to build a degree’s worth of study skills in the blink of an eye and he couldn’t.

Phoenix’s silence was enough of an answer for Doug, and the two men stood with their backs to the wall, waiting for class to let out. When it did, Dahlia was the first one out the door.

“Dougie!” she cried, rushing into his arms. “I’m so sorry that happened to you!”

Doug sighed. “It’s alright, Dahlia.”

She batted her eyelashes at him, sweet and compassionate. When she turned on Phoenix, he wasn’t given the same kindness.

“Why would you do that to Doug?” she lashed out, words razor sharp.

Phoenix flinched. “He, uh, started it,” he mumbled.

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “And then you needled him and got him kicked out! Are you trying to ruin Doug’s chances of getting Professor Gavin’s internship?” she accused.

Phoenix jolted back like she’d slapped him. “What? No, I was just trying to defend myself,” he tried to explain.

Dahlia rolled her eyes once more before sticking out her hand for Doug to take. “Then maybe next time you should form a semi-coherent argument beforehand. C’mon, Dougie, we have class,” she said, tugging him along the hallway and out of the building.

Phoenix wilted as he watched them walk away. He’d been fully aware that his classmates thought he was a joke, but coming face to face with the reality, from Dahlia no less, was like a knife to the gut. All of the things he’d done to prove he was serious fell flat. He had only one tool left in his arsenal, and it was one he’d been saving for an emergency.

Thanks to Yelp, he found a Samson and Delilah’s, a hair salon a couple blocks from campus. He made the trek there, book bag digging into his shoulder as he walked. He remembered his first day at Harvard, and made sure to check both ways before crossing. Though he had heard a rumor that if you got hit by one of the school’s shuttles they’d pay your tuition. It was a tempting enough offer that he’d be willing to risk it. He was notoriously lucky, after all.

But today wasn’t the day to test that theory. Instead he was on his quest to become serious, and that required him to wait for the streetlight like a normal person. In just a few minutes, he found his destination, a brick building tucked between a Starbucks and a Jimmy Johns. Throngs of hungry college students walked past as they sought out lunch and coffee. Phoenix eagerly stepped inside, met with the scent of fruity shampoos and hair dye.

“Hello! Welcome to Samson and Delilah’s, do you have an appointment?” a cheery receptionist greeted.

Phoenix blinked, looking around the place. It didn’t exactly seem busy. “Um, no. I was looking to get a haircut,” he explained.

She nodded, flipping through the timetable at her desk. “One of our students has an opening, if you’re alright with that!”

Phoenix shrugged, nodding in agreement. She gave him a pearly white smile before gesturing for him to take a seat in one of the salon chairs. The receptionist walked past into the back room to fetch a hairdresser to tend to Phoenix. He was alone a few minutes before a young man walked up to him with a nervous smile and a wicked cowlick. He couldn’t have been any older than twenty, but he was certainly short enough to be in high school.

“Hi, my name’s Apollo,” he greeted, draping a protective sheet over Phoenix’s chest.

“I’m Phoenix.”

“What do you want done today?” Apollo asked, pursing his lips as he surveyed Phoenix’s hair.

Phoenix clenched his hands on the arms of his chair. This was the moment of truth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to do what needed to be done. “I need you to…” He sucked in another breath, feeling needles at the back of his eyes. “I need to cut off my spikes.”

Apollo’s only response was a horrified gasp, eyes blown wide as he covered his mouth. “Oh my god, no, your spikes are majestic.”

Phoenix flushed, reaching up to touch the back of his head. “You think so?”

Apollo nodded vehemently. “Yeah, do you know how long it takes me to gel my hair like this?” he asked, tugging on his own spiked hair. “I’d kill to have hair like yours. Why do you want to cut it off?”

Phoenix sighed slumping back into his chair. “It’s a long story.”

Apollo looked at him expectantly, lowering himself into a nearby stool. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well,” Phoenix began hesitantly. “I came all the way out here from California to go to Harvard Law School.”

Apollo gasped, “Oh wow, that’s awesome!”

“I know!” Phoenix agreed. “I worked so hard for it, too! But I came out here to win back my ex-girlfriend, but I show up and find out she’s dating this wannabe Brit.”

Apollo noted that tears were beading at the corner of Phoenix’s eyes and began to realize this might have been a bad idea. “That’s no reason to shave your head.”

“No, but she doesn’t think I’m ‘serious.’ No matter what I do! I don’t know how else to prove to her I am,” Phoenix whined, wallowing in his own self-pity.

Apollo eyed Phoenix, seeing his tense shoulders and clenched fists. “Here, you look stressed out,” Apollo noted, walking over to the radio at the end of the counter. He quickly slid a CD in and turned up the sound. The receptionist eyed him with dread, quickly pulling out some earplugs.

Phoenix watched Apollo curiously. “I have this playlist I use whenever school is getting to me,” Apollo explained, returning to Phoenix.

Before Phoenix could ask, a tinny bellow of sound erupted from the radio, interspersed with quiet yodeling. “What the hell is that?” he asked, appalled at the assault currently taking place on his ears.

Apollo wore a soft smile, appearing to enjoy the sounds. “It’s Bavarian folk music. Isn’t it relaxing?” he asked.

“I’d rather listen to cats mating.”

Apollo either didn’t hear him over the yodeling, or chose to ignore him. “I know love sucks,” he said sympathetically. “And school is tough.”

Phoenix nodded, doing his best to tune out the continuous accordion playing. Apollo sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “It’s always been my dream to go to Harvard Law School,” he admitted. “But unfortunately I don’t think it’ll happen.”

“Why not?

Apollo shrugged. “Money and all that. I’m an orphan so I’m pretty strapped for cash. I’m working this job to try and pay my way through undergrad.”

Phoenix felt his heart ache for the young man in front of him. This was someone who might not ever get to where Phoenix was, yet he was still complaining to the poor kid about it not being good enough. Phoenix felt slightly embarrassed for himself.

“And love just makes everything more complicated,” Apollo sighed.

Phoenix nodded in agreement before Apollo continued. “So I like to listen to this and pretend like I’m in Germany, with those big romantic castles and beer.”

“Germany, huh?”

Apollo shrugged. “German boys are cute.”

Phoenix snorted, covering his mouth. He’d gathered from Dahlia that Edgeworth was German. “Cute, maybe, but in my experience they’re also giant assholes.”

Apollo hummed thoughtfully. “I had this one boyfriend, Konrad, he kept telling me he was a quarter German, but I’m not too sure about that. He was cute, but then he dumped me for some jerk he met at Bonnaroo.”

Phoenix eyed Apollo sadly. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Apollo waved his hand dismissively. “But my point is that you’ve already done so well for yourself. You’re in one of the best law schools in the world!” he exclaimed. “And you have great hair, anyone would be silly not to give you a chance.”

Phoenix flushed again. “You think so?”

“I know so!” Apollo exclaimed. “If someone like you can’t find love, then there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

Phoenix stood, casting off the sheet covering him. He stepped forward to wrap Apollo in a grateful hug. It really cemented just how short the other man was.

“Thank you so much!” he said.

Apollo stepped out of the embrace awkwardly. “I take it you feel better?”

Phoenix nodded. “Hell yeah! This time I’m definitely going to prove I’m serious!”

Apollo gave him a pleased grin. “I’m happy I could help. What’s your name again?”

“Phoenix Wright.”

“If you ever need extra assurance, just repeat after me: I’m Phoenix Wright and I’m fine!” Apollo shouted, loud enough to leave a ringing in Phoenix’s ears.

Phoenix wondered if exposure to loud noises was why Apollo enjoyed the cacophony still playing over the radio. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Phoenix grabbed his book bag and set off for campus, leaving a large tip for Apollo. It was on his way back to his room that he happened to run into Edgeworth.

Edgeworth stood in the hall. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on bring coffee to the mixer,” he grumbled to Diego.

Diego shrugged. “Why not?”

Edgeworth let out a long suffering sigh. “Because you do it every time and no one likes your coffee but you.”

Diego’s following laugh was smooth, wafting through the halls. “It’s not my fault your ilk can’t handle my fine dark ground perfection.”

“More like dark ground sludge,” Edgeworth snipped.

Phoenix did his best to skirt around them, only wishing to get back to his room unscathed.

“Hey, Trite.”

He could only be so lucky. Phoenix stopped, turning to face the two men. “Hey.”

Edgeworth eyed him passively, expression schooled to hide his thoughts. Diego was more open, grinning at Phoenix wildly. “That was quite a scene you made in class today.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I have to make my mark, don’t I?”

Diego laughed, though it had a sinister edge to it. “You’re certainly making it.” He elbowed Edgeworth, earning a hiss. “You should invite Trite to the party.”

Phoenix shook his head, having no desire to overstay his welcome. “No, it’s—”

“No, you should come,” Edgeworth said.

Phoenix stared, baffled at the sudden offer of peace. “Um, okay?”

“It’s a costume party, since Halloween is around the corner,” Edgeworth explained.

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “Halloween is a month away.

“Time flies.” Edgeworth shrugged. “But I know Dahlia would appreciate your attendance.”

That definitely sealed the deal, and Phoenix found himself nodding fervently. Edgeworth’s response was a sly smile. “Good. I’ll forward you the details later in the week.”

Phoenix walked away feeling accomplished. Maybe he was making some progress here after all.

When Phoenix was out of earshot, Diego turned to Edgeworth, eyebrow raised. “That was a little cruel, wasn’t it?”

Edgeworth glared at him. “You were the one that backed me into a corner. If you’d kept your mouth shut—”

“And miss that fantastic display of camaraderie?” Diego howled. “Not in a million years. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you and Trite were amigos.”

“Please. He’s foolish and naïve. I have no time for people like that,” Edgeworth said, repeating the words his mentor had drilled into him for years.

“Ooh, did I hit a nerve?” Diego needled.

Edgeworth simply scoffed, choosing to ignore Diego and retreating to his own room.

Chapter Text

Apollo sat at his station, in the middle of a heated Pokémon battle as he waited for another customer. Torchic screeched angrily at the opposing Nosepass, Ember doing frustratingly little to bring down its health.

“Just die you giant schnozz,” he grumbled.

“Apollo, phone call for you!” the receptionist shouted.

Apollo shut his DS, ambling to the front of the shop. “Who is it?” he asked. He expected it to be Clay, as he was the only one who would call his place of work.

The receptionist just shrugged, handing off the phone. “No idea.”

Apollo furrowed his brow. That was new. “Hello?” he called into the receiver.

“Hey! Apollo!” chirped a voice on the other end. “It’s Phoenix, do you remember me?”

“Yeah, you left like fifteen minutes ago,” Apollo replied. “Did you forget something?’

“No, I just needed to thank you! You kept me from making the worst decision of my life!” Phoenix exclaimed.

Flustered, Apollo scratched the top of his head. “Oh, ah, it’s no trouble. Always happy to help out.”

“One of the guys I was telling you about invited me to a costume party this weekend, so I guess things aren’t as bad as I thought.”

Apollo smiled to himself, glad to hear that things were looking up. “That’s awesome! Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

Phoenix fell silent. “Um, not really. It needs to be something that’ll impress Dollie.”

Apollo hummed thoughtfully, remembering the costume he’d worn to Clay’s party last year. “I think I might have something that would work.”

This was how Phoenix found himself trying to wiggle into fuchsia leather pants on Friday night.

“Apollo, I don’t think this is gonna work,” he gasped, the pants catching at the swell of his hips.

Apollo bit his lower lip, struggling not to laugh as sweat beaded on Phoenix’s brow. “Did you take a cold shower like I asked you to?”

Phoenix huffed, grunting as he tried to pull the stubborn pants up. “No.”

“Well there’s your problem. Taking a cold shower will make your muscles contract and you’ll be slightly skinnier,” Apollo explained.

Phoenix glared at him. “I don’t need to be slightly skinnier, I need to restructure my ass!”

It wasn’t a lie, as Phoenix’s defiant butt refused to be caged by Apollo’s leather pants. Apollo tossed him a belt. “Here, put this through the loops and pull up.”

Phoenix complied, managing to get the pants up an inch. “Make sure to wiggle.”

“I am wiggling!”

“Wiggle harder,” Apollo ordered.

Phoenix hopped up and down, continuing to use the belt for leverage on his impossibly tight pants. He flopped down on the bed, grunting and wheezing.

“Are you sucking in your gut?”

“Of course I’m sucking it in!” Phoenix panted, wrestling with the clothing like a snake. “Jesus Christ, Apollo, how did you get these on?”

Apollo shrugged. “Perseverance.”

With a final, great pull, the pants slid over Phoenix’s hips, inciting a cry of elation. Bells rang and children cheered with joy, parades marching down the street while confetti streamed from the sky, all celebrating Phoenix’s clothed derriere. Phoenix slumped onto the bed, white-knuckled hands gripping the belt.

“You still have to zip up,” Apollo pointed out.

Phoenix was going to cry. The zipper was splayed open over Phoenix’s stomach in a wide toothy V. “Do you have a wire hanger?” Apollo asked, opening Phoenix’s threadbare dresser.

“Are you going to murder me and end my suffering?”

Apollo leaned across Phoenix’s body, hanger in hand. “Beauty is suffering,” he said nonchalantly as he hooked the hanger through the zipper. “Take a deep breath.

Phoenix did as instructed while Apollo hovered over him, using the hanger as leverage to pull up his fly. One by one, the teeth knitted together, as Phoenix’s entire body compacted into the cage of leather Apollo had subjected him to. His skin screamed, begging to once again see the light of day, and all his organs huddled together crying out in fear. Apollo buttoned him in, and in the moment, Phoenix realized hell was a pair of leather pants.

“I can’t breathe,” he wheezed.

“Then don’t.”

“Tell my mother I love her.”

“I’ve never met your mother.” Apollo turned away, moving to the upper half of the costume he’d thrown over the back of Phoenix’s chair. “Can you get up?”

Phoenix rose stiffly, like Frankenstein’s monster come to life. “These pants are part of me now,” he claimed.

Apollo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Wipe the sweat off your forehead and come put the jacket on,” he ordered.

Phoenix gelatinously slid off the bed, legs stiff as he waddled over to Apollo, who simply rolled his eyes and handed him a jacket the same dark pink color as the pants Phoenix was entombed in. It was made of a cheap satin like most costumes, with a gaudy Jack of Spades emblazoned on the breast.

“Shouldn’t I put the shirt on first?” Phoenix asked.

Apollo laughed. “There is no shirt.”

Phoenix blinked. “Excuse me?”

Apollo waved his hands at the materials gathered before them. “It’s just the pants, the jacket, cape and hat,” he explained.

Phoenix spluttered, unsure how to verbalize how weird that was.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to impress your ex-girlfriend.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Besides, it’s a costume party. When else are you going to get to dress like Max Galactica?”

Phoenix slipped his arms through the sleeves, the faux satin cold on his bare skin. Like the rest of the costume, it was tight and clung to him like a wet suit, partially because the costume was supposed to be tight, and partially because Phoenix was much wider than Apollo. Phoenix wasn’t sure whether to be grateful that he didn’t have to button the jacket.

He glanced to the side, his fuchsia clad form reflected back at him. While he had a slight muffin top, he had to admit, his ass looked great. “But why would I want to dress like this. It’s incredibly painful and embarrassing,” he whined.

“Because you look fabulous.”

“Please stop.” Phoenix cringed.

Apollo wordlessly handed Phoenix a thick purple wig and a massive top hat. Phoenix supposed he was in too deep to back out now. Apollo pinned the wig in place, while Phoenix kept having to spit out limp strands of fake hair. He was suddenly reminded why his hair was perpetually slicked back. Once the hate was set on Phoenix’s head, brim resting precariously on Phoenix’s brow, threatening to fall down.

Apollo stepped back to survey the figure before him. “Oh, right!” he said, smacking himself in the forehead. He turned around, ruffling through the bag he’d brought with him. “Here we go,” he finally said, standing up with a pair of white roses in his hands. He moved to pin them to Phoenix’s lapel.

“Ow!” Phoenix exclaimed. “Don’t stick me!” he whined.

“Sorry.”

Phoenix jumped as the pin nicked him again. “If you’re sorry then don’t do it twice!”

Apollo glared at him for not staying still. “It’s not my fault the thing keeps popping open.”

“Do I need to wear the roses?” Phoenix grumbled, as the pin stuck him once more, refusing to stay closed.

Apollo moved onto the second rose. “Yes! They’re vital to the costume,” he insisted. “How are they going to know you’re Max Galactica without the roses?”

“Because the giant cape and hat aren’t a clue.”

Once the roses were in place, showing no sign of moving, Apollo stepped back to admire his work. “Look, they’re an important part of the ensemble. You can deal with a few pinpricks for style,” Apollo insisted.

As if to spite him, the pin popped open, scratching Phoenix’s chest. He sighed, closing the latch once again. “If I get tetanus I’m suing you. I’m a lawyer, y’know.”

Apollo beamed at him. “So how do you feel about platform shoes?”

The next thing Phoenix knew, he was attempting to walk down five flights of stairs on stilts while Apollo flanked him. There was a bright flash accompanied by the sound of a shutter.

“What are you doing?” Phoenix gasped, hands gripping the railing for dear life.

“Taking pictures,” Apollo said simply.

“I’m going to die, Apollo!” Phoenix cried, his ankle giving out for not the first time.

Apollo was gracious enough to put a steadying hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. “I’ll put these pictures with your obituary,” he promised.

Phoenix reached the landing and nearly collapsed with relief. “Oh thank god,” he gasped.

“Yup, just four and a half more to go.”

Twenty minutes later, Apollo dropped Phoenix off at the walkup to a small house on Mass Ave. Phoenix still tottered on his heels, skittering like Bambi on ice.

Apollo waved him off. “You go and you fight for her!” he cried.

Phoenix would have waved back, but he was pinwheeling his arms to avoid toppling over. By the time he got to the door and looked back, his friend was already gone. Phoenix took the moment of reprieve to prepare himself, one hand on the door to steady himself. This was it, do or die. He was going to open the door, strut up to Dahlia, and show her what she was missing. The roses continued to poke him in his collarbone, but he could suffer if it would impress his love. Surely whatever Doug had thought up, Phoenix looked much, much better, with toned abs and an ass that wouldn’t quit.

With a deep breath (but not too deep, and the pants were still pushing his stomach into the base of his lung), Phoenix opened the door.

Inside, he found a white millionaire’s wet dream. A sea of college students wearing khakis and sweater vests stretched out before him, gripping honest to god wine glasses while they discussed the merits of affirmative action against a backdrop of smooth jazz. The air smelled vaguely of mothballs and cheese. As he stood in the doorway, the realization dawned on Phoenix that unless this was a group Young Republicans costume, this was not in fact a costume party.

One of the roses on his breast chose that moment to pop off.

People took notice slowly, eyes checking the door to see who had entered, then doing a double take and nudging the person beside them and pointing. Then another pair of eyes alighted on Phoenix. It continued until all conversation had died down, the only sounds the smooth jazz piped in through the entertainment system. The room waited with collectively bated breath, and it was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Diego standing in the far corner informed Phoenix that he was, unfortunately, in exactly the right place.

Thankfully, Dahlia was not in sight. Phoenix took a calming breath (once again, not too deep) before stepping across the threshold. Phoenix’s platform boots made a loud clopping noise on the hardwood floor, and to Phoenix, it sounded like a gun going off. The crowd parted for him, following him with curious eyes before slowly turning and whispering to each other.

“Who is that?”

“What is he wearing?”

“I think his ass is about to burst out and escape into the wild.”

He kept his head high and strutted through the crowd like he belonged there. He searched the groups of people for Dahlia, hoping to find comfort in a familiar face. He found her in the den, standing in front of an old bookshelf and swirling a glass of dark red wine in her hands. Phoenix staggered his way over like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

Dahlia choked on her drink. “Phoenix?” she asked incredulously.

“Dollie!” he greeted, mouth splitting into a wide grin.

She gaped at him for a moment. “What are you wearing?” she asked.

Her tone of voice suggested Phoenix had killed her cat. “I just figured I’d shake things up a bit,” he laughed with a shrug, trying to conceal his embarrassment.

Dahlia blinked at him, eyes scanning over his bare stomach and legs threatening to burst out of his pants. “You’re certainly shaking something up,” she agreed.

Phoenix beamed at her, leaning suavely against the wall. “Are you having a good night?”

Dahlia took a sip from her glass, nodding. “Yes, there are so many people here with great connections, much more than back in LA.” Her eyes gleamed wistfully for a moment. “I still can’t believe you’re here, Feenie,” she admitted.

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Dahlia gestured vaguely with her hand. “I mean, you were always kind of, you know…” She trailed off. “I just mean I never would have thought you could get in to Harvard.”

It was like gold filigreed invitation to prove himself. “But I did,” he pointed out happily.

Dahlia shook her head. “I never would have guessed,” she mused.

Eager not to let his chance pass by, Phoenix pushed forward. “I know, right?” he laughed. “Do you ever think of the old days?”

Dahlia smiled at him, her flushed cheeks suggesting she may have had a little too much to drink. “Only all the time,” she admitted. “Those parties senior year? We pretty much ruled the world.”

Phoenix wasn’t sure he’d go that far, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Remember when you got kicked out of O’Hara’s?”

Dahlia flushed even more. “We agreed not to speak of that!” she groaned. “What about when you insisted on having me help you do a keg stand?”

Phoenix smiled. “Those were the days,” he mused longingly.

Dahlia laughed but didn’t argue. “People here are so much more boring. Why can’t it be like it used to be?” she sighed.

Phoenix grabbed her free hand in both of his. “But it could be!” His hands swallowed up her delicate fingers, and he clung to her desperately. If there were ever a chance, this was it.

Dahlia glanced curiously at their joined hands but didn’t pull away. “Excuse me?”

“It’ll be like senior year, but funner!”

Dahlia’s mouth formed a thin line as she watched Phoenix skeptically. He sighed, “Look, I know you have your future all planned, but I could be with you! I’m here because I understand.” His eyes shined with a silent plea.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m here because I’m serious, Dollie!” He gave her hand a squeeze.

Dahlia snorted ripping her hand from his grasp. “Yeah, you look really serious,” she said, gesturing to his costume.

Phoenix wilted, wig listing to the side. “Dollie, that’s not fair,” he pouted. “We’re in the same classes, studying law together. We might even both get Gavin’s internship and work together—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dahlia held up a hand to stop him. “You don’t actually think you’ll get Gavin’s internship do you?”

Phoenix pouted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Dahlia gave him the same pitying look you’d give a puppy that had hurt itself chasing its tail. “Feenie, be realistic. You get kicked out of class all the time and you need an A to get that internship.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I have an A.”

“Yeah, and so does the kid in front of me who writes Sonic fanfiction every day. We haven’t had any assignments.”

Fate decided to add insult to injury, by having Edgeworth step out of the crowd. “Wright,” he greeted smugly. “You look magical tonight.”

Edgeworth effectively rubbed salt on Phoenix’s already wounded pride. Phoenix turned on him, purple hair getting in his mouth as he leveled Edgeworth with angry eyes. “Thanks for the invite to the costume party,” Phoenix snapped. He took a step forward, noting with glee that the shoes made him tower over the other man. “I see you’re dressed as a midlife crisis.”

Edgeworth’s smug grin faded and he scoffed. The surrounding crowd began to take notice of everyone’s favorite bitter rivals, and a circle began to form around them. Dahlia stepped between them, giving them dark glares.

She turned to Phoenix. “Maybe you’re not failing, but that still doesn’t mean Gavin likes you, or that he’ll pick you.”

Phoenix winced. It was certainly true that Gavin didn’t like him, and that didn’t show any sign of changing in the near future. “I’m trying really hard, surely he can see—”

Edgeworth stepped forward, invading Phoenix’s personal space. Phoenix’s current height advantage didn’t seem to be having an effect.

“You can barely get through one class without making a fool of yourself,” Edgeworth sneered. “You’ll flunk out before the end of the semester, never mind getting Gavin’s internship.” Edgeworth looked him up and down briefly. “Everyone in our class wants that internship. If Gavin could have his pick, why would he choose you?”

Phoenix’s heart sank, and he stared down at his hands, trying to make himself as small as possible (which was remarkably difficult in platform shoes and a massive top hat). He suddenly felt very foolish for thinking he had a chance.

“One day we’ll fight for justice and you’ll be lucky if you can get a job playing piano in a dive bar.”

“Edgeworth,” Dahlia finally cut in, smacking Edgeworth’s arm.

He seemed mostly unaffected, still leveling Phoenix with the same steely gaze. Phoenix brushed past him towards the door, fighting the pinpricks at the back of his eyes.

That was when Phoenix’s ankles had decided they’d had enough.

It was in slow motion that his feet gave out from under him, heels finding no purchase on the hardwood floor. He toppled, like Goliath shot down, and his face connected with the floor, cape rucked up over his head. It would have been fine, embarrassing certainly, but Phoenix could stitch his wounded pride back together, if not for…

Phoenix prayed for Death to take him. Failing that, he slowly reached back gently touching the frayed seam to confirm that, yes, his pants had finally split open.

Why did I choose today to wear my Steel Samurai boxers? he thought helplessly.

Dahlia stared down at him, hand covering her mouth, while Edgeworth flushed and pointedly looked away. “Oh my god, Feenie, are you—”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, do you need some help?”

“Only if it involves putting me out of my misery.”

Edgeworth helpfully replied, “I think there’s a rifle on the wall in the study.”

Dahlia smacked him again.

Phoenix began the slow process of dragging himself onto his feet, and quickly made for the door. Once outside, the first thing he did was take off his godforsaken shoes. The next thing was to wrap his cape around him for warmth. For the first time, he realized how much colder this place was than LA.

He sent Apollo a quick text and began the long, long trek back to his dorm.

>um, so funny story.

>i rly hope u didnt wnt these pants back.

Chapter Text

“Gavin, it’s a Friday night, if you make me reorganize your bookshelf one more time, I’ll reorganize your face,” Mia threatened.

Kristoph tutted, swirling a dark glass of Bordeaux in his left hand. “Put them back in chronological order; I want to make sure my textbooks are at eye level.”

“While you’re at it, why don’t you put a mirror on the ceiling so you can look at yourself while you masturbate?”

Kristoph stroked his chin contemplatively. “Interesting.”

Mia didn’t regret throwing Black’s Law Dictionary at his head. She could only be paid to suffer through so much. The unfortunate consequence was that she now had to trek across campus alone, at eight on a Friday night. Stepping onto the cracked stone path, Mia wrapped her muffler tight and walked. It wasn’t altogether horrible. Harvard was a safe place, and Mia was fully capable of punching someone’s lights out.

In the cool autumn evening, she almost began to enjoy it. Campus was silent in a way that it never was in the daytime. Under the cover of night and the light of the stars, Mia was the only person around.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

Well, almost the only person.

Mia stopped in her tracks as a man in high heels and a bright purple wig frantically pulled his cape over his head to protect from the barrage of acorns raining from the heavens. Mia eyed an ornery squirrel perched on a tree branch, chucking acorns at the man’s fleeing backside. For future reference, squirrels hate magicians.

In the poor man’s desperate run across the lawn, he tripped over his cape, tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs and pink leather, and came to a rest at Mia’s feet. She winced in pain. Glancing down at the unlucky kid curled in a fetal position at her feet, she noted he looked oddly familiar.

“Phoenix?” she asked incredulously.

He met her eyes, and yup, the mismatched eyes gave him away. Mia noted that he looked ready to burst into tears. Mia sighed, leaning down to offer him a hand. He took it, palms scraped and bloody from his fall. She gently helped him up, brushing off his shoulders as she assessed the damage. A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.

She feared that the damage to his pride, however, was mortal. “What the hell happened?”

Phoenix’s shoulders sank, arms tucked in as he prepared for death to take him. “Love,” he sniffled.

Mia groaned internally. After hearing about Gavin’s autoeroticism, she really didn’t need to hear about Phoenix’s love life. But she wasn’t going to kick the poor kid while he was down. “Love led you here?”

Phoenix nodded, wrapping his arms around his chest. Mia tried to ignore the fact that his nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds. “We were supposed to get married and have two-point-five kids, but she and her friends think I’m a joke!” Oh god he was actually crying now. “I came all the way out here to prove I’m serious, but nothing I do works, and instead of getting her to love me again I’m flunking out of school—”

“Hold up,” Mia cut in sharply. “What was that?”

Phoenix looked the picture of grace, with red-rimmed eyes and a nose running like a faucet. “I’m flunking out of school?” he sniffled.

Mia shook her head. “No, no, before that. You followed a girl here?”

That set off another round of tears. “Yeah! Dollie dumped me, but she’s my soulmate! I’d do anything to—”

Mia punched him in the face.

Her knuckles made a satisfying (and painful) pop when they connected with his jaw.

“Ow!” Phoenix whined, rubbing the red welt on his cheek. “What was that for?”

Mia shook out her hand, shooting Phoenix a glare. “What was that for?” she mocked. “Are you seriously so oblivious you don’t understand how creepy you sound?” Watching his eyes well up as he gingerly poked his new bruise, Mia decided the ache in her fingers was worth it.

Phoenix blinked at her, owlish and stunned. “I’m not creepy!” he cried defensively. “I’m in love!”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Because a stalker has never said that one before?” she scoffed. She shook her head disdainfully, turning on her heel. “Maybe she’d start to respect you if you stopped being a creepy asshole.”

With that she turned on her heel and continued the path back to her apartment. Phoenix watched her yellow muffler flutter as she walked. His whole body ached from being crammed into this costume, but it paled in comparison to the suggestion that he was creepy. Surely he wasn’t creepy? He was just in love! It was romantic to follow Dahlia across the country and ensure that they were in the same classes and try to get involved with her study groups, it’s not like he was invading her space…

Oh.

A horrified gasp shattered the night’s stillness. “I am a creepy asshole!” Phoenix wailed.

Mia stopped, glancing over her shoulder to see Phoenix slumped over. She could not believe that in the year of our Lord, two-thousand thirteen, there was a grown ass man who didn’t understand how to be a decent human being.

“Oh God, Mia, what do I do?” he cried. “How do I fix this?”

She had a headache and its name was Phoenix. The rational part of her brain told her to keep walking. Phoenix was a big boy and could sort through this shit on his own. She certainly didn’t owe him anything, and if she kept walking then Phoenix would be just another ignorant man in a sea of many. There was no guarantee that if she tried to teach him anything that he’d be receptive.

But as she turned to face him, he was literally sobbing with wide teary eyes. He had the audacity to look like a wounded puppy and, well. Mia had always had a thing for dogs.

She sighed heavily. “First you need to put a shirt on.” Phoenix rubbed the tears out of his eyes and nodded vigorously. “And first thing on Monday, you’re going to apologize to your ex for being a dick”

Phoenix continued to nod in agreement, and Mia wondered what the hell she was getting into. First things first, she needed to make sure he got home. She nodded towards his dorm. “Come on, you’ve had a rough night.”

When she started walking, course slightly changed, Phoenix trotted behind her. If he was a dog, he’d probably be a golden retriever, Mia thought. The pair made an interesting sight as they trekked to Hastings, had anyone been there to see them. A law student and the fake magician following behind her, the stars painted on his face beginning to melt off.

On the stairwell up to his dorm, Mia finally noticed the ever growing rip in Phoenix’s pants. “Nice undies,” she snickered.

Phoenix flushed in shame, pulling the cape tighter around his exposed booty. “It’s been a rough night,” he muttered.

“You’re telling me,” Mia grumbled, remembering the sixth time Gavin had ordered her to alphabetize his books and she’d very seriously considered murder.

Phoenix keyed into his dorm and made a beeline for the bedroom, anxious to peel the tight, sweat-stained clothes off of him. Mia stood in the door, staring in muted horror at Phoenix’s room. It was completely barren. The off white walls were barren, the floor uncarpeted, and no textbooks or notebooks in sight.

She stepped in and it felt like she was committing a grave sin. “Jesus Christ, kid, did you bring anything with you?” she called, opening one of the drawers on his desk and finding it empty.

“A basketball, a tennis racket, and some golf clubs, why?” he replied.

Mia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Did you at least bring sheets?”

“Why would I need sheets when I have a sleeping bag?”

Mia nearly puked on his perfect, pristine floor. “That’s revolting. What is wrong with you?”

Phoenix popped out of his bedroom, a loose shirt and sweatpants thrown on. Mia could still see the red scabs forming on his hands from where he fell. She belatedly realized he probably didn’t have a first aid kit.

Mia took another glance around the room. “Where do you keep your textbooks?” she questioned.

Phoenix cocked his head. “My what?”

Mia sent him a tired glare. “Your textbooks, the ones Gavin tells you to read every day?”

“Oh right!” Phoenix said brightly, as if he had other textbooks. “They’re here somewhere.” He pursed his lips, glancing around the dorm for them.

Mia gestured at the nearly pristine floor. “There’s nothing here.”

Phoenix shrugged, beginning to pace the room, rummaging under the couch behind the dresser as he searched for his books.

“So I take it you don’t read a lot?” Mia guessed.

Phoenix opened the closet and skimmed the top shelf. “I try, but I just can’t focus on them,” he admitted.

“They’re not exactly made to be riveting,” Mia pointed out.

“Maybe, but they could be a little more exciting,” Phoenix whined. “Where’s the intrigue, the drama? The rising action?” He opened his pantry.

“Do you understand anything about the legal system?” Mia asked incredulously.

Phoenix pushed his fridge out of the way, searching the space behind it. “Not really. Like I said, I kinda came here for Dollie,” he admitted sheepishly.

Mia sighed to herself. This kid was a piece of work. “Wouldn’t I like to be able to drop everything and go to law school on a whim,” she grumbled.

“Why did you come here?” Phoenix asked, walking down the hall to search the bathroom.

Mia’s hand instinctively drifted to the Magatama on her neck. She clutched it tightly, remembering the matching one with her sister. Mia wondered if Maya was already asleep. As much as she tried to stay up to see Mia when she came home, Mia’s long, unpredictable hours sometimes made that impossible.

“I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. My mom left when I was a kid and ever since then it’s just been me and my sister,” Mia explained, voice dropping into a serious tone.

It had been over a decade ago that Misty Fey had left her two daughters, but the wound still stung. Mia’s extended family had assured them that it was out of love and to protect them from the harsh public outcry against Misty’s work as a spirit medium. But Mia couldn’t help but wonder if that was true. She would have taken having a mom over some flimsy “protection.”

Mia had always hoped to become a lawyer and seek her out.

“I worked really hard my whole life to get in here, because Harvard is the best and with a law degree from here I can do practically anything,” Mia explained, still grasping the pendant on her chest. “And when I got in I kept working hard, I got two jobs so that I could keep my sister nearby and any time I wasn’t working went into my classes.” Mia sighed. “And then people like you decide you want to be a lawyer on a whim and get everything that I worked so hard for.”

Mia might have been a little bitter.

Phoenix stepped out of the hallway, holding a stack of textbooks to his chest. He eyed Mia sadly, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Mia shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she sighed. It wasn’t fair of her to act like Phoenix hadn’t worked hard, simply because Mia had to work harder. “But, I’m sure as hell not going to sit around and watch you waste this amazing chance you’ve stumbled into,” she said brusquely, sweeping the textbooks from Phoenix’s arms and spreading them across his desk.

She grabbed Phoenix’s shoulders and guided him into the chair, plopping him down as she opened Professor Gavin’s textbook. She hopped up on the desk and flipped to their most recent assignment. “Sit your ass down Phoenix, because I’m going to teach you how to study.”

Come Monday, Phoenix felt like he’d just come off a weekend long bender. Except instead of alcohol, Phoenix had overloaded on all the knowledge he was supposed to have learned over the past month. He’d written more notecards in the past week than he’d ever remembered writing in his life.

He walked into class feeling prepared for the first time.

“Good morning, Mia,” he called grumpily, dark eye circles a testament to the late study session she’d subjected him to.

Mia somehow looked much more put together. He body had likely adjusted to a lack of sleep over the years. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Don’t you have someone to talk to?” she asked pointedly, nodding towards the back of the room.

Phoenix glanced up and saw Dahlia, standing by her normal seat, wrapped in a lacy pink cardigan. Phoenix swallowed thickly, but steeled himself and walked up. Dahlia was busy talking to Doug, and didn’t notice Phoenix until he was a few steps away.

“H-hey, Dollie,” Phoenix said anxiously. He tried not to think about the fact that the last time she’d seen him, she’d gotten an eyeful of his underwear.

Dahlia turned to face him, offering a polite smile. “Good morning, did you make it home okay the other night?”

Phoenix’s mouth went dry. “I just wanted to a-apologize.”

Dahlia’s brow furrowed. “Apologize? For what?” she asked sharply.

After his revelation the other day, Phoenix didn’t even know where to start. “For being weird, I guess?” he began. “For trying to worm my way into the life you have here and not ever asking if you were okay with it.”

Dahlia blinked at him slowly, face blank and unreadable. Phoenix tried to breathe and continued. “I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable, and if you ask me to leave you alone, I will.”

Dahlia watched with amusement as Phoenix broke out into a cold sweat. She bit her lip, letting him stew and fidget uncomfortably for a minute. She wondered how long it would take for him to finally burst. She took mercy and didn’t let him get to that point.

“It’s fine, Feenie,” she assured. “To be honest, I found it pretty funny.”

Phoenix practically melted with relief. “Good,” he sighed.

“Getting to see those Steel Samurai undies of yours was probably the best part of my weekend.”

Phoenix blushed. “Can we not talk about that?” he groaned.

Dahlia just laughed and waved him off. “The professor’s here. You should probably get to your seat.”

Glancing at the front of the room confirmed that Professor Gavin had walked through the door and was already preparing his notes. Phoenix nodded and headed back down towards the front of the room towards his seat. And, coincidentally, towards Edgeworth.

Phoenix stuttered for a moment, seeing Edgeworth sitting tall next to an empty seat. Today he wore a maroon turtleneck, silver hair framing his face. For a brief moment, it occurred to Phoenix that he looked much softer when he wasn’t glaring. He quickly shook that thought away, and held his head high as he sat down.

He was going to kick law school in the ass.

Chapter Text

To Phoenix’s relief, Apollo was much too amused to be angry that Phoenix ruined his pants. Plus he’d worn them once for a party and they’d been gathering dust at the back of his closet ever since. He supposed it was only fitting that they should go out in style. It didn’t hurt that Phoenix offered to buy him coffee to make up for it.

“Everyone saw? Even your ex-girlfriend?” Apollo snickered, hiding a grin with his coffee mug.

Phoenix’s head drooped, as he attempted to hide his face in shame. “Especially my ex-girlfriend,” he grumbled. But he picked himself up by his bootstraps, sitting straight and refusing to be ashamed. “But I’m turning over a new leaf! I’m a changed man!”

Apollo raised an eyebrow dubiously. “That quickly, huh?”

Phoenix nodded vehemently. “Yeah, after the party I realized something.”

Apollo waited for a moment, eyeing Phoenix expectantly. The other man didn’t seem to realize he’d left his thought half-finished, and met Apollo’s gaze with determined eyes. Apollo decided he’d bite. “And what did you realize?”

“That I’m a dick.”

Apollo blinked, stunned. He collected himself. “Well, I’m glad we’ve learned something about ourselves.”

Phoenix nodded, much too gleeful for someone who loudly declared their own arrogance. “Me, too!” he chirped. “I realized that I’m wasting all this time focusing on Dollie when I should be focusing on me,” Phoenix explained. “And sure, I hope one day we’ll be together again, but I’m not gonna prove anything by flunking out of law school.”

Apollo nodded in agreement. “That’s certainly one way of looking at it,” he mused.

Phoenix checked his watch, eyes widening when he saw the time. He hastily stood up, grabbing his muffin and bookbag. “Speaking of which, I have to go,” he said hurriedly. “I’m meeting with Mia at the library to study in a few minutes.”

Apollo nodded, waving the bumbling law student off. Phoenix waved back, nearly colliding with Diego refilling his tenth cup of coffee. “I’ll see you later!” Phoenix assured, slipping out the door.

Phoenix quickly jogged across the street to the library, his breath turning to wispy white clouds in the cool autumn air. It was mid-October, the leaves just beginning to turn as mid-semester hell descended on students all over campus. There was a constant aura of stress and sleep deprivation emanating from Phoenix’s classmates. It smelled a bit like moldy socks.

Worst of all, were midterms, the veritable final boss of the academic dungeon Phoenix had crawled into. If midterms were a monster, they’d be a hydra, for when you finished one exam, two more lay in wait right behind it. Phoenix’s first Criminal Law exam (and first exam of the semester) was just a few days away. If he was hopeless before, now he was completely forsaken.

He had never been more grateful to have Mia coaching him. With her help he’d written more flashcards in the past week than he ever did in art school. He’d also managed not to get kicked out of class, and Professor Gavin was beginning to get bored with him. He’d begun to single out other students, and found that Doug was often too busy playing footsie with Dahlia to pay attention.

Phoenix entered the library and sat his bag down at a table near the stacks. The air smelled of yellowed paper and coffee beans (and moldy socks, of course). He sent off a quick text to let Mia know he was here, to which she responded with an ISBN number. Phoenix rolled his eyes and set off to find the book it belonged to.

On his way, Phoenix passed Edgeworth, hunched over the table with dark eye circles to match his hair. He appeared to be taking a nap, eyes closed, one cheek pressed firmly into a book’s open pages. Exhaustion has taken the best of us, Phoenix thought wryly.

Phoenix was prepared to keep his head forward and ignore his classmate (possibly after snapping a quick picture to show Mia), when he noticed the textbook under Edgeworth’s head was very familiar. Phoenix raised an eyebrow, bending over and lifting up the front cover to confirm that the book Edgeworth was drooling on was indeed Art Through the Ages.

An open notebook laid next to Edgeworth’s head, displaying elegant, thin handwriting on the principles of design. It was in stark contrast to Phoenix’s own choppy scrawl, designed more for speed than style. With ire, Phoenix noted that Edgeworth’s notes were entirely wrong.

“There are seven elements of design,” Phoenix groused.

Ever the light sleeper, Edgeworth tiredly blinked his eyes open, raising his head to see none other than Phoenix Wright standing over him, reading his notes. Edgeworth quickly wiped the drool from his mouth with the end of his sleeve, sleep-heavy eyes narrowing on Phoenix.

“What are you doing here?” Edgeworth spat, or tried to. He was too drowsy for his words to have any bite.

Phoenix tapped his notebook. “You’re missing form and space.” Edgeworth glared daggers at the other man, even as he slid his notebook closer to add the last two elements to the list. “Why do you have notes on art anyways?”

“Don’t you have better things to be doing, Wright?” Edgeworth growled. “Studying, for example.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I just hang out in the library for fun. I am studying. I just happened to be on my way to get a book and saw you taking a nap on something that’s definitely not a law book.”

Edgeworth had the decency to flush a little bit. “It’s for an elective.”

“Uh-huh. What elective?”

Phoenix got a petty rush of glee as he watched the blush over Edgeworth’s nose deepen. “Art Appreciation,” Edgeworth mumble.

Phoenix coughed, unsuccessfully trying to hide the laughter that bubbled up his throat. “And how did you find yourself in Art Appreciation?” Phoenix asked, still trying to fight back laughter.

The resulting glare indicated he was unsuccessful. “It was supposed to be an easy elective.”

“Considering you didn’t even know the seven elements of design, I’m guessing you think otherwise.”

Edgeworth slammed his textbook closed with a loud thud. “It doesn’t make any sense!” he said in frustration. “How am I supposed to do well when there’s no right answer?”

Phoenix had a feeling Edgeworth’s frustration was coming to a head, and any moment now he was liable to explode. “Do you mean to say you’re failing Art Appreciation?” Phoenix asked with barely contained glee.

Edgeworth’s eyes were sharp and practically murderous, daring Phoenix to say another word. “I am not failing.”

“Are you passing?”

Edgeworth remained silent, mouth a thin line. His eyes still spoke of all the horrors he would subject Phoenix to were they legal. Phoenix coughed again, swallowing a laugh. As much fun as watching Edgeworth fail at something would be, Phoenix was much too kind not to take pity on the poor man.

“Well, Miles... can I call you Miles?”

“No.”

“It seems you’re in luck, Miles,” Phoenix said smugly. “Because art happens to be my specialty.”

Edgeworth eyed him dubiously. “What would you know about art?”

“I’m an art major, asshole.”

Edgeworth promptly shut his mouth, giving Phoenix a withering look. “That explains so much.”

“I don’t mind helping you figure out this art appreciation thing, if you’ll help me with the Criminal Law exam this week,” Phoenix proposed.

Edgeworth scoffed at the suggestion, pointedly looking away, eyes zeroing in on his inaccurate notes. Phoenix shrugged. “Mia’s joining me.”

That got Edgeworth’s attention, and he glanced at Phoenix out of the corner of his eye. He might not trust Phoenix to help him with art, but he certainly wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to study law with Mia. She was the one grading their exams, after all.

With a great sigh, Edgeworth collected his books and followed Phoenix to his table. When Mia arrived ten minutes later, she had to do a double take upon seeing Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright sitting as far from each other as physically possibly at the tiny round table. Edgeworth’s books were perched on the very edge of the table, as if he feared contamination by simply sharing a table with Phoenix. In contrast, Phoenix appeared to have a smug grin and made sure to spread his books out as far as possible. They were not unlike schoolchildren. Mia eyed the two of them, wondering if she’d need to intervene. They appeared civil.

She set her bag down next to Phoenix, eyeing the two men warily. “I’m glad to see we’re making friends,” she said drily.

Edgeworth recoiled, nose wrinkled in disgust. “This is a completely symbiotic relationship!” he insisted.

“Wow, someone took freshman biology,” Phoenix quipped.

Mia raised one eyebrow. “I don’t know about you, but where I’m from we call that a friendship.”

Edgeworth huffed, turning his nose up at the notion. “I’m German; we don’t make friends.”

At that moment, it occurred to Mia that Professor Gavin had also been raised in Germany. “Regardless, I assume you’re here to study law?” She began unpacking her bag, setting up a towering stack of textbooks in the middle of the table.

“Miles is here for art,” Phoenix said glibly.

Edgeworth shot him a glare before going back to his textbook, resolutely ignoring the other man. Mia shook her head at the two children she now found herself in charge of.

“So I can’t give you any more information than what Gavin gave you in class, so don’t expect me to give you the answers or anything,” she began. “He hasn’t even told me whether he’s written the exam yet, so for all I know he’s going to wait until the night before like most of your classmates.” She slid a blue packet across the table towards Phoenix. “But I can make sure you guys stay on track, and give you some advice based on my first law school exam.”

Phoenix caught the paper before it slid off the table. It was a copy blue exam booklet, dated Fall 2010 and signed by one Mia Fey. Phoenix flipped it open, seeing walls of text in Mia’s familiar short, neat handwriting. On the side there were numbers in red pen, detailing where she’d gained and lost points. Phoenix was relieved to see she’d scored an eighty-seven percent, so there might be hope for Phoenix yet.

Mia settled down, pulling out her laptop. “Get to work, boys, and ask me any questions you need.” She pulled open an essay due for her Regulations class later that week.

Phoenix read through her old exam, notebook open in front of him as he tried to figure out how to answer the questions. The first question asked for an argument for or against the case of Russell v. Sullivan. That was the only explanation provided. Who the hell are Russell and Sullivan and why do I care, Phoenix wondered. He knew that he could pull out his phone and Google would answer him. But one of the first things Mia had taught him was that it was always better to try and find it in the textbook.

(“It’s been scientifically shown that there’s a correlation between the use of Google your available working memory,” Mia had explained, hands on her hips as she scolded Phoenix. Scientifically proven. She sounded like Ema.)

So Phoenix grabbed the nearest textbook and flipped to the index.

Their table was quiet, filled only by the sound of flipping pages, clacking keys, and pen scratching on paper. Phoenix attempted to work out a response, making a bulleted list of key points and evidence. It amazed him what he’d learned to do in only a few weeks. Before Mia had taken him under her wing, Phoenix couldn’t even write his way out of a paper bag.

Minutes passed before Phoenix realized the scratch of pen on paper had stopped. He glanced across the table to see Edgeworth staring at the text in front of him with a furrowed brow and a puzzled grimace. He had the universal look on his face that shouted ‘what the fuck am I looking at?’

“Need some help?” Phoenix asked quietly.

Edgeworth glanced up, seeming to have completely forgotten Phoenix’s presence at the table. He glanced between Phoenix and the book before him, its pages a strange, illogical labyrinth. Edgeworth sighed. “Yes,” he bit out reluctantly. “What exactly is ‘aesthetic experience?’” He made sarcastic air quotes with his fingers.

Phoenix bit the inside of his cheek as he got up and walked around the table to survey Edgeworth’s work. Before him was a shitty photocopy of Van Gogh’s Starlight over Rhone, and a seven part question, the first of which was to describe the “aesthetic experience” of the piece.

Phoenix struggled not to laugh. It was a very simple question, to him at least, something that he would have done in high school. And here was Miles Edgeworth, snooty law student extraordinaire, pulling his hair out because he couldn’t apply logic to art.

Phoenix gestured with his hands, floundering to explain. “Aesthetic experience is how the piece makes you feel, the message it’s trying to convey through color and form,” he said.

Edgeworth glanced between Phoenix and the blue streaks horribly recreated on paper. “The only thing this makes me feel is angry,” he deadpanned.

“That’s because your eye for art is as bad as your eye for fashion.”

Edgeworth lightly touched the gray and purple striped scarf on his neck, giving Phoenix and affronted look. “You are the last person who should criticize my aesthetic sense.”

“And yet I’m not the one failing art appreciation.”

“Children, play nice,” Mia called over the steady clack of her paper being written.

Phoenix let out a resigned sigh. “Look, Van Gogh chose these colors and these brush strokes for a reason. What was it, and what was he trying to convey?” Phoenix asked suggestively, trying to lead Edgeworth to the answer.

Edgeworth peered at the paper before him through narrowed eyes. “How do you know this is Van Gogh?”

Phoenix blinked at him, stunned into silence. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re hopeless.” Phoenix threw up his hands. “Good luck explaining to your parents that you failed art appreciation.”

“My parents are dead,” Edgeworth snapped.

Phoenix shut up. Open foot, insert mouth. “Oh.”

Edgeworth was pleased to have finally shut Phoenix up. “Yes, ‘oh,’” he mocked. “Now, what were you saying?”

Phoenix pointed at the picture in front of them. “I’ve seen enough of Van Gogh’s work to just know. You can tell by the colors and the way he’s drawn the sky here, it’s very reminiscent of Starry Night.” Phoenix paused, giving Edgeworth a wary look. “You have seen Starry Night, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve seen one of the most famous paintings in the world,” Edgeworth huffed. “I might not be an artist, but I don’t live under a rock.”

Could’ve fooled me, Phoenix thought snarkily. He kept it in because he didn’t want to derail Edgeworth’s progress, however small. “The dominant line direction screams Van Gogh, and the balance. I don’t know if your professor will expect you to be able to identify specific artists, but texture, depth, and medium are all things you should be able to identify.”

If Edgeworth were a man of lesser restraint, he might have tossed the textbook across the room. But he hadn’t been raised in a barn, and simply put his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m going to be disowned.”

Phoenix was about to needle Edgeworth, when Edgeworth’s shoulders began to shake. In one horrifying moment, Phoenix realized that Edgeworth was actually upset. He glanced to Mia for help, who seemed too preoccupied with her paper to assist.

“Um, uh, it’ll be okay?” Phoenix offered awkwardly.

Edgeworth’s back shuddered, nails digging into his scalp. “This was supposed to be easy. My law classes are fine but it’s art appreciation that will ruin my GPA,” he gasped, chest shaking.

Mia took notice then, her fingers pausing on her keyboard. She and Phoenix shared a look over Edgeworth’s bowed head, where Phoenix begged for assistance. Mia’s eyes widened, but just because she was older didn’t mean she was any more equipped to deal with a breakdown than Phoenix.

“If it makes you feel better, my GPA is fucked,” Phoenix offered.

“It does not,” Edgeworth snapped. “Von Karma will never let me come home again and my sister will think I’m a disgrace.”

Phoenix put his hands in his pockets, twitching to put a hand on Edgeworth’s shoulders but simultaneously knowing that would be a terrible idea. “Your family isn’t going to stop loving you because of a bad grade,” Phoenix assured him, voice soft.

Edgeworth looked to Phoenix with a biting glare. “They never loved me in the first place,” he stated coldly without wavering.

The complete assurance Edgeworth held in that statement was what struck Phoenix to his core. His hands fisted in his pockets and he took a seat at Edgeworth’s side. “You’re not going to fail,” Phoenix said with determination, the fire in his eyes rekindled. “Take a deep breath and then open that book and I’ll teach you so much about art you’ll have paint coming out of your ears.”

Edgeworth took a breath as instructed, chest swelling as his lungs expanded, as if for the first time. Another followed, and soon Edgeworth’s shaking stopped. He picked himself up off the table and sat back, straightening his scarf. “Alright,” he breathed out, looking to Phoenix expectantly.

After Phoenix had taken Edgeworth through the entire art curriculum, and Edgeworth had returned the favor, giving Phoenix a crash course on Criminal Law, Phoenix called it a day. He stood up, stretching out his shoulders. His upper back protested painfully, having been hunched over old textbooks for far too long.

“My brain has never been filled with so much knowledge,” Phoenix said in awe.

Edgeworth rolled his eyes. “Has your brain ever been filled with anything?”

Phoenix shrugged. “Alcohol.”

“Disgusting.”

Phoenix shrugged. Edgeworth was just a stick in the mud. There was an awkward silence as Phoenix gathered his books, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. Edgeworth was much neater, finishing in half the time it took Phoenix. He still hesitated, fingers nervously plucking at the strap of his bookbag.

“Wright,” he called flatly.

Phoenix glanced up, still trying to stuff an errant paper into his bag. Edgeworth cleared his throat, refusing to meet Phoenix’s eyes. “Thank you,” he coughed into his hand. It wasn’t much more than a distorted rumble, and Phoenix doubted whether he’d heard correctly.

But he knew better than to ask and just nodded. “Who would I argue with if my rival got kicked out of law school?”

Edgeworth chuckled darkly. “You think you’re my rival? Please.”

Phoenix stuck his tongue out at the other man as they walked out of the library, accompanying each other home.

When Phoenix showed up to class the next day, Edgeworth was the same cold bastard he’d always been. Likewise, Phoenix was the same obnoxious brat he’d been when he first stumbled into Harvard Law School. There were no polite smiles exchanged when Phoenix sat down for class, no furtive glances. Altogether, class went on like it always had, with no mention of their study session the previous day. They certainly weren’t friends. If anything could be said at all, it would be that Phoenix and Miles hated each other just a little less.

For Phoenix, it was a start.

Chapter Text

T-minus ten minutes and Phoenix was still bent over his notes, desperately trying to cram one last section on property law into his head. Dahlia watched him with amused eyes, the picture of grace under pressure.

“It’s ten minutes before go time,” she pointed out. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop studying?”

Phoenix recognized that at this point he had either learned the material or he hadn’t. It didn’t stop the anxious voice in the back of his head from telling him there was more he needed to learn. “But what if he asks us about a choice of evils defense?”

Dahlia blinked at him. “Feenie, we haven’t even covered that section yet.”

“Yeah, but what if he puts it on there anyways just to mess with us?” Phoenix asked frantically, flipping through his notes.

Dahlia took mercy on the poor boy and reached over to close his notebook. “In that case, we would all fail and your butt would be saved by the curve,” she said gently. Phoenix watched with wide doe eyes as she slipped the notebook into his bag. “Relax, Feenie. You’ve done your studying.”

Phoenix’s knee bounced anxiously beneath the table, shaking the whole row and earning him a few nasty looks. “I can’t just relax!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I need to do well!”

Dahlia quirked one perfectly trimmed eyebrow, eyes still amused as she watched the shaking mess of nerves in front of her. “When did you start caring about your grades?”

Phoenix fell into a contemplative silence. When did he start caring about grades? Probably when he put hours upon hours of studying into this one class. “I, I don’t I just want to do well,” Phoenix whined. “I’ve worked so hard!”

Dahlia frowned at him. From the look in her eyes, Phoenix gathered that she didn’t actually believe he’d worked hard. That made him all the more determined to do well. The sound of a crisp exam being placed in front of her face down drew her eyes away. Mia shuffled between the rows, handing out exams and checking everyone’s workspace, making sure there were no errant note peeking out of bags.

Professor Gavin cleared his throat at the front of the room. “Leave your exam facedown until I tell you to begin, you’ll have an hour to answer two questions, read them carefully. No notes are allowed, so I certainly hope you’ve studied well.”

Mia paused in setting down Phoenix’s exam. She made eye contact and gave him an easy smile, recognizing the nervous sweat on his brow from her 1L days. “Good luck, kid,” she said quietly. Afterwards she moved down the line, setting an exam before the next student.

Phoenix’s fingers twitched around his pen, itching to turn the exam over and get it over with just so he could be done. But he had to wait, and all the last minute nerves crawled under his skin. The room had fallen silent as all the panicked students held their breath, waiting for the signal to begin.

Mia finished the last row and glanced around. “Does everyone have an exam?”

A moment passed and the endless silence of a hundred students waiting for the guillotine to come down continued.

Professor Gavin smirked to himself. “If so, then you may begin.”

In synchronization, everyone in the room turned their exams over and put their pens to paper. Phoenix started writing and didn’t stop until time was called. He turned in his exam at the front, Dahlia right behind him.

“So, how did you feel about that?” she asked, stretching out her cramped shoulders.

Phoenix had stared at the page, trying to remember every Latin word he knew, for an hour. He shook his head. “All I know is that I’m going to get really drunk.”

While Phoenix was in a bar across town celebrating his newfound freedom, Mia still had work to do. She had a stack of forty exams to her right, the rubric on her left while some poor soul’s exam laid on the chopping block in front of her. Professor Gavin insisted they finish grading exams tonight so they could give them back during the next class. That was easy for him to say. This was the only class he had to grade exams for. Mia, on the other hand, had papers due next week in two other classes. But instead of working on those, she was stuck grading exams with Asshole Gavin.

It was a good hour of Mia grading in aggravated silence before Gavin finally shifted from his relaxed pose. Mia was confident that she was grading much more leniently than her boss, God help the poor saps he was grading. Gavin was much too pleased with himself when passing judgment on his students. From being in close quarters with him while he was grading, Mia had witnessed the sadistic pleasure he got from marking students down. She was beginning to think it would need professional intervention.

Gavin tilted his head curiously, glasses perched low on his nose as he raised the exam in front of him to get a better look. “Mia?” he called.

It wasn’t like Mia was in the middle of grading an essay herself or anything. (But it was Edgeworth’s, and God knows his essay would be perfect).

Mia reluctantly raised her head to give him an exasperated look. “Yes?” she groused.

Gavin tapped the exam in his hand. “Phoenix Wright is the boy that I keep throwing out of class, correct?”

Mia raised an eyebrow, leaning over to see Phoenix’s familiar scrawl on the exam in her boss’s hand. “Yes, why?”

Gavin pursed his lips in confusion. “Because his essay is marvelous.”

Mia felt her chest swell with pride, seeing the (relatively few) red pen marks on Phoenix’s essay. “Maybe he’s more talented than you think,” she suggested.

Deep lines formed around Gavin’s frown. “Perhaps,” he conceded, setting the essay down to review it once more.

Mia smiled to herself as she went back to grading, pleased that her self-appointed pupil had learned something.

The next morning, Phoenix woke up with a pounding headache and a solemn vow that he would never drink again (which would be promptly forgotten come Friday night). He got dressed and headed out the door, ready to tackle the day’s challenges. On his way to the stairwell, he ran into Edgeworth wearing a pair of pink silk pajamas.

“Morning, Edgeworth,” he greeted, pausing briefly to soak in the accomplishment that came with being more put together than Edgeworth for once.

Edgeworth leveled him with his perpetually tired look. “Are you hungover?”

Maybe Phoenix wasn’t quite as composed as he imagined. “Are those Pink Princess pajamas?” he shot back.

Edgeworth glanced down, as if he wasn’t perfectly aware that tiny Pink Princesses were emblazoned along his sleeves. He shook his head, deciding it best to choose his battles. “Let me get my breakfast in peace,” he grumbled, turning to continue the trek towards the dining court.

“Wait!” Phoenix called. “How did art appreciation go?”

Edgeworth gave him a wary look for a moment. Then he realized Phoenix’s concern was genuine, and his gaze softened. “Yes, it went well,” he answered.

Phoenix gave him a bright and unbridled smile. “Good!”

Edgeworth’s eyes widened, clearly unsettled at Phoenix’s vicarious happiness. He coughed awkwardly into his hand. “Yes, well,” he said awkwardly. “Don’t get too drunk. You only have so many brain cells as it is.”

In the time it took Phoenix to roll his eyes, Edgeworth disappeared down the hall on his way to get breakfast. Phoenix headed to his next class (thankfully not Criminal Law). On his way across campus, he happened to pass Mia’s favorite tree, where Mia was reclined against the roots, coffee mug in one hand and a textbook propped open on her knees.

“Mia!” Phoenix called, waving at her from across the lawn.

Mia glanced up with dark eyes to match Phoenix’s bloodshot ones. “Phoenix,” she called back, eyes immediately going back to her textbook.

Phoenix, not one to understand when he’d overstayed his welcome, traipsed across the lawn to Mia’s feet. “Did you guys finish grading the exams last night?” he asked, bending down with hands planted on his knees.

“Yeah,” Mia replied, casually flipping the page.

Phoenix watched her expectantly, waiting for Mia to elaborate. “And?” he prompted.

Mia looked back up at him, exhaustion evident in her expression. “And what?” she challenged.

“How’d I do?”

Mia sighed in exasperation. “Phoenix, I graded eighty essays last night, what makes you think I remember yours?”

“But Mia,” Phoenix whined. “I thought we had something special!”

“And even if I did remember,” Mia continued. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

Phoenix clasped a hand over his heart. “Mia, you wound me,” he whined.

Mia rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to wait to know your score until everyone else. What a shame.”

Phoenix pouted, turning to continue on his way to class. “Fine,” he said, though the both of them knew his irritation was fake. “Have a good day!” He waved her off as he started across the grassy lawn.

Mia watched him go, blue sweater dark against the rising sun. As much as Phoenix wanted to know how he’d done, Mia wanted to share how proud she was of him. “And Phoenix?”

Phoenix stopped, glancing back over his shoulder with curious eyes. Mia’s lips quirked into a gentle smirk. “You might want to start celebrating.”

It took a moment for it to register, but when it did, Phoenix burst into that genuine, thousand-watt smile that reminded Mia why she’d taken him under her wing in the first place.

Come Friday night, Mia and Apollo sat on Phoenix’s couch while he waved his exam in front of them. “A 91! I got a 91!” he exclaimed.

Mia eyed him with thinly veiled amusement, arms crossed as Gavin’s elegant handwriting waved below her nose. “Yes, I know. I helped grade it,” she pointed out.

The two boys ignored her, Apollo reaching forward to reverently grasp the white paper in his hands. “Wow…” he breathed, as if holding an ancient relic in his hands. “That’s amazing.”

Phoenix nodded happily. “I know! I think it’s the second highest score, I can’t believe it!” He turned his eyes on Mia. “Thank you so much! I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” Mia said, scrunching her nose. “Besides, you put in all the work, I just needled you a little bit,” she insisted.

Phoenix flushed pleasantly. “You really think so?” he wondered aloud, proudly looking at his exam like a newborn child.

Mia shook her head. “Of course you did. I didn’t do all that studying for you.”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah but I couldn’t do it without you.”

Mia shrugged. “Then it’s a good thing you had me, right?”

Phoenix laughed and nodded in agreement. “But now that that’s over, let’s celebrate!”

Apollo looked between his two older friends nervously. Mia rolled her eyes. “Don’t party too hard. I have shit to do tomorrow.”

Phoenix shrugged, bending down to open his mini fridge. “I have some cheap champagne we can all share,” he suggested, standing up with the long-necked bottle in one hand.

“Um,” Apollo said awkwardly, watching as Phoenix grabbed a stack of red Solo cups from his cupboard. “I’m not twenty-one.”

Phoenix gave him a slightly confused look, already pouring a glass (cup?) of champagne. “Oh!” he exclaimed, suddenly remembering that there was, in fact, a minimum drinking age. “That’s fine. We won’t tell anyone, right Mia?”

Mia shrugged. It was definitely against University guidelines on many levels (underage drinking, on campus, in the residence halls). But it certainly wouldn’t be the first time a young lawyer cut loose during their off hours.

Apollo, it seemed, had more moral objections. “Didn’t you just pass a law school exam?”

Still pouring, Phoenix nodded. “Yeah!”

“Oh.” For the first time, Phoenix considered there might have been a touch of irony in him encouraging underage drinking in light of having just outlined different laws and regulations. “Grape juice, then?”

He handed the cup off to Mia, getting a room temperature bottle of grape juice from his cabinet and handing it to Apollo. He poured his own cup of champagne and set the bottle to the side. “A toast!” he called dramatically, holding his cup up.

Slowly, his two companions touched their glasses to his. “What are we toasting?” Mia asked.

Phoenix thought for a moment. “Me not flunking out of school?” he suggested.

A snort, followed by Mia nodding. “I’ll drink to that,” she said.

Apollo nodded fervently. “Congratulations!” he enthused.

Then they all drank, and Apollo remained regretfully sober while Mia and Phoenix quickly drifted into drunkenness. Soon Phoenix laid on the floor just below the couch. Apollo kept his legs curled underneath him so as not to kick his drunk friend. Mia, on the other hand, was sprawled out over her side of the couch, muscles loosened by booze. He long legs occasionally stepped on Phoenix’s arm, at which he whined and she promised to be more careful. Then she kicked him again. In his drunken haze, Phoenix didn’t think to move six inches to his left.

“My parents are gonna be so proud of me,” Phoenix slurred. “They didn’t think I could do it!”

Mia snorted. “Wow, rub it in why don’t you,” she grumbled. “For your information, some of us don’t have parents.”

She glared at both of the boys. Apollo shifted awkwardly and said the only thing he could think of. “Um. I don’t have parents either.”

Phoenix propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, Mia!” he shot back. “Apollo’s an orphan.”

Mia looked at Apollo with a curious glance, causing the younger boy to shift awkwardly. Mia’s word filter had completely vanished around the third drink. As a result she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “How long have you been an orphan?”

Apollo rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. “Forever, I think.” He’d quickly learned it was easiest just to humor her. They would probably forget this in the morning anyway. So much for not partying hard.

Phoenix wailed miserably at his feet. “That’s so sad.”

Apollo just shrugged. To him it was normal; not having parents was the only thing he knew. But he understood how it might seem horrible to someone who had grown up with a loving family. “It’s alright,” he assured. “For all I know, I might be better off without them.”

Mia tilted her head curiously. “Have you ever tried to find them?” she asked.

It was a bit of a personal question, but one Apollo didn’t mind. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. But there’s a lot of red tape that I don’t really have the time to try and get through.”

Phoenix bolted upright, the tiny dorm being filled with a loud thunk as he smacked his head on the coffee table. “That’s bullshit!” he shouted.

“Holy shit, Phoenix, are you okay?” Apollo asked, leaning forward to examine the new welt on the side of Phoenix’s head.

Phoenix ignored him, filled with righteous fury. “You know what? I’m a lawyer!”

“You’re not a lawyer,” Mia interrupted.

“I’m kind of a lawyer,” Phoenix corrected.

“Not even close,” Mia mumbled into her drink. Phoenix chose to ignore her this time.

“Phoenix, you’re bleeding!” Apollo said, feeling the panic begin to set in.

Bright red blood trickled from the cut on Phoenix’s head like a disgusting, cherry waterfall. It didn’t help that Phoenix was completely oblivious to the mortal head wound he’d suffered. Instead he reached up, cupping Apollo’s (frantic) face in his hand.

“I’m gonna help you find your parents,” he promised, eyes sparkling.

“Where are your towels?” Apollo shouted back.

“No need to thank me,” Phoenix said, waving his hand dismissively.

Apollo turned away in a rush, eyes scanning over Phoenix’s meager kitchen, looking for something that would stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, Phoenix smiled after him, dazed while blood began to pool on his collar. He turned to Mia, dopey smile on his face.

“I think we just bonded,” he said gleefully.

Mia rolled her eyes, looking to Apollo as he tore open a pack of dinner napkins. “It’s a head wound, they bleed a lot,” she said dismissively. “He’ll be fine.”

Apollo glared at her. Even if she was right, he wasn’t about to take advice from someone too drunk to control their legs. He thrust the napkins in his hand towards Phoenix. “Hold these to your head,” he instructed.

Phoenix took the mess of napkins, obeying and pressing them to the cut on his temple. He felt his fingers grow wet. “When did I start bleeding?” he wondered aloud, as Apollo went in search of a towel.

“Do you have any bandages?” Apollo called from the bathroom.

Phoenix thought for a moment. “No, just duct tape.”

In the morning, Phoenix woke up on his living room floor with another wicked hangover, blood crusted on his shirt, and an old rag duct-taped to his forehead. Mia snored on his couch, completely catatonic, while Apollo was curled next to her, metaphorical feathers ruffled.

What a wild night, Phoenix thought.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving?”

Phoenix yanked the phone from his ear, earning more than a few curious looks from others in the dining hall, as loud sobs escaped his phone.

Phoenix hid his face in his hands, trying to muffle Larry’s crying. “Listen, I’m sorry, but something came up,” he said, eyes darting around to see if people were still watching.

“But Nick!” Larry wailed. “You promised!”

Phoenix rubbed his temples, staring down into his turkey noodle soup, quickly cooling as Phoenix tried to calm his friend. “I know,” he sighed. “But I have this friend—”

“You’ve replaced me?” Larry sobbed.

Phoenix nearly faceplanted in his soup. “No, Larry, I haven’t replaced you,” he said chidingly. “But I promised this friend I’d do him a favor and Thanksgiving break is the only time I can do it,” he tried to explain.

“It’s more important than your family?” Larry asked accusingly.

“Last I recalled, you weren’t my family. Besides, you’re going to be busy with your own parents anyways, you won’t even notice I’m gone,” Phoenix assured.

“First Ema and now you,” Larry continued. “You’re forgetting about me!”

“Larry, I text you like every day, if I’d forgotten about you, I wouldn’t have called,” Phoenix grumbled, struggling to be the voice of reason.

“What’s so important that you have to stay on the crummy east coast?” Larry spat, quickly shifting into angry crying.

“I promised my friend I’d help find his parents,” Phoenix sighed. Even though drunk Phoenix had made that promise, sober Phoenix intended to follow through.

“But I haven’t seen you in months!” Larry cried.

Phoenix idly picked at his nails. “Yeah, well. I’ll be home for Christmas, okay?” he promised.

“Woe is me!” Larry wailed on the other end, before Phoenix promptly hung up on him.

As the first day of Thanksgiving break approached, Phoenix sat in the library. With a steaming cup of coffee at his elbow, he pored over adoption laws while Apollo looked over his shoulder. “You know, I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to do this,” he said anxiously.

In front of Phoenix laid a veritable Bible on Massachusetts adoption law, pulled from one of the dustier shelves of the reference section. “Nonsense!” Phoenix exclaimed. Thankfully the library was too empty for anyone to chastise him about volume. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Apollo wrung his hands, glancing between Phoenix and the book furtively. “But you don’t have to miss out on your break just for me,” he said weakly.

Phoenix shrugged, fingers splayed over the teeny tiny lines of text detailing the proper procedure if a child was misplaced during the adoption process. “I’m not missing it just for you,” he assured. “Mia invited me to her place for Thanksgiving, and we’re gonna get some studying in.” Phoenix underlined the last line in his notebook. “Besides, it’s a long flight and I hate flying.”

Apollo didn’t look convinced and scratched his head nervously. “Don’t you think you deserve a break?”

“This is a break!” Phoenix said, looking to Apollo with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Don’t you see? You’ve been given such a great opportunity!”

Apollo quirked an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

Phoenix waved his hands wildly, very nearly smacking his friend in the face. “Life would be so much easier if we all had some big quest to fulfill like avenging our fathers, or restoring our honor, and that’s exactly what you get to do!”

Apollo blinked as Phoenix tried to make eye contact. Apollo took the chance to take a closer look at Phoenix, his bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair. “Are you having a midlife crisis through me?” Apollo asked suspiciously.

“Apollo, please, school is killing me, let me have this adventure,” Phoenix begged.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “You really need to sort your life out. But fine.”

Phoenix smiled, eyes going back to the old, yellowed pages in front of him. “Have you ever tried to find your parents before?” he asked, half-listening as he wrote down another bullet point.

Apollo folded his hands in his lap, watching Phoenix dully as he recanted his past parental struggles. “Yeah, but the agency that dealt with adoption won’t tell me anything. Apparently the records are sealed,” Apollo sighed dejectedly.

“I assumed you can’t just unseal them?” Phoenix guessed.

Apollo snorted. “No, my life is never that easy.” He glanced to notes that Phoenix had painstakingly written, spread over the table like fallen leaves. “Please don’t get your hopes up,” he said quietly.

Phoenix looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “My hopes have already been dashed, multiple times,” he assured. “I just don’t want you to put all this work in and then be disappointed when nothing changes,” Apollo warned.

When he looked back to Phoenix, he was met with two wide, pitiful eyes. “Oh Apollo!” Phoenix cried. “The world has let you down so many times! I promise, I’ll get this right!”

“What did I just say?” Apollo grumbled, as Phoenix buried his nose further in his research.

Mia swung by at ten sharp the next morning, a sleepy Phoenix climbing into her car and promptly sprawling over the backseat. Apollo shot him a concerned look from the passenger’s seat. He tentatively presented Phoenix with a still-warm muffin as a peace offering.

“You can back out at any time,” he reminded the tired law student.

Phoenix took the muffin, scarfing it down gracelessly. “Nope, I’m ready to do this!” he said with renewed determination.

Mia rolled her eyes and grabbed a napkin to wipe the crumbs off his face like a babysitter. “Then put on your seatbelt so we can get going,” she chastised.

“Yes, Mom.” Phoenix quickly obeyed, and Mia set off for the adoption agency on the edge of town.

They’d missed the morning rush hour, but the roads were still crowded in the daylight. As many students that had left for Thanksgiving were quickly replaced by all the ones coming home. Such was the downside of living in the city.

“You ready for your first job as a lawyer?” Mia asked, glancing at Phoenix in the rearview mirror.

“Huh?” He shot up out of the half-sleep he’d fallen into. “Oh, yeah! I was up pretty late reviewing.”

“Do you have a plan of attack?”

“Not really. I figured I’d just wing it.”

A soft slap accompanied Apollo facepalming. Mia glanced over to the young undergrad. “Don’t worry,” she said under her breath. “Even if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, I do.”

“What are you saying about me?” Phoenix asked suspiciously, leaning against the back of Apollo’s seat.

“I said you’re gonna do great!” Mia lied cheerfully.

The car slowed to a crawl as they passed under a tall gray stone skyscraper with dark tinted windows. Apollo stared up, the large monolith blocking out the sun. In contrast, Mia’s eyes scanned the street, flicking wildly between the rows of parked cars.

She groaned heavily. “I’m going to have to pay for parking, aren’t I?” she lamented.

One parking pass later, the three hopped out onto the pavement and headed into the lobby. Mia led the way, Phoenix nervously rifling through his notes. As they waited for the elevator, Phoenix did some last minute cramming.

As the elevator doors slid open, Mia tried to instill some confidence in the poor kid. “Phoenix, just act natural, you know what you’re doing.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” Phoenix whined, piling into the cramped box with his friends, alongside a crew of adults in monkey suits.

“No one does.”

It was a slow climb up the tower to the eleventh floor, the elevator stuttered to a halt on almost every floor to let another person in a suit escape to join the corporate machine. Phoenix tried not to stare, crisp blazers and harsh angles standing stark against his own lackluster suit. A man scowled, typing angrily on his PDA. Phoenix hoped this wasn’t what lay in store for him with the path he’d chosen.

All too soon, a pair of hands jabbed sharply at the small of his back as Mia forcefully pushed him out. “Pay attention,” she scolded. “If you’re going to get away with this, you need to act the part.”

Phoenix shook himself out of his thoughts. “Right. Sorry, Chief.”

Mia gave him a strange look, before shaking her head, likely deciding it was best not to ask. “Do you remember the suite number?”

“It’s eleven something.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “1150.” She flicked Phoenix’s nose.

“Ow!”

“Did that wake you up?”

“No!” Phoenix whined.

“Well, figure something out,” she ordered. “Because it’s showtime.” She turned to Apollo, who looked ready to fade into the white wallpaper. “Ready?”

“No,” he croaked.

Phoenix gathered himself. “Hey, we don’t have to do this,” he reminded Apollo. “We can go home and do this another day. Or never.”

Apollo met his friend’s eyes, just as open and caring as they’d always been. “No, I’m fine,” he promised. “Just nervous.”

Phoenix clapped him on the back. “If all goes well, all you’ll have to do is stand there and look pretty!”

Apollo had the sudden, inexplicable urge to go check himself in a mirror. Mia watched the two of them, folding her arms. “Then we’re ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Phoenix insisted. He pumped his fist in the air, nearly punching Apollo’s face in the process.

“Then lead the way, Mr. Attorney.”

Phoenix did just that, leading a strange procession down the carpeted hall to the door advertising “Adoption Resources.” He pushed the door open, a bell sounding over his head as he entered. In response, a receptionist shot up from behind the desk, yet another person in a suit. They took in Phoenix’s party in a split second, the man in a cheap suit leading the way, followed by a short young man about to jump out of his boots, and finally a woman who seemed to be the only one with her shit together. In that first glance, the receptionist has already determined that this was going to be a shitty morning.

“May I help you?” he asked with a faux-pleasant smile.

Phoenix marched up to the desk, papers clasped firmly against his side.

“Yes, uh.” One word and he was already off to a great start. “We are Mr. Justice’s legal team,” he explained, grabbing Apollo’s arm and pulling him forward. Apollo’s surprised yelp was cut short by Phoenix stomping on his foot. “He was formerly in your care and would like to request his adoption records.”

It took all of the receptionist’s willpower not to sigh loudly, making sure to keep any signs of exasperation completely internal. “Alright then,” he said. “What is your client’s name?” He quickly went to his computer, pulling up the company’s database.

“Apollo Justice.”

Their fingers flew over the keyboard, searching the name and having the results spit back out in a matter of seconds. “And how old are you?”

“Uh, 19.”

He nodded disinterestedly, clicking on the corresponding record. What showed on the screen was a very sparse record, with the majority of the information censored. He turned back to Mr. Justice’s lawyer. “I’m very sorry, but I can’t release that information until Mr. Justice is 21.”

Phoenix’s brain experience the mental equivalent of running into a brick wall. All the studying he’d done was failing him. “Uh, excuse me?”

The only response was an unimpressed glare. “Look, Mr…?”

Phoenix proudly stuck out his chest. “Phoenix Wright, attorney at law.”

The receptionist’s face remained thoroughly unconvinced. “Mr. Wright,” they began, leaning their upper body against the desk. “Those records have been sealed for twenty years to protect both parties and by Massachusetts law, they cannot be unsealed until Mr. Justice is 21.” They paused for effect. “In short, there’s nothing you can do.”

Phoenix spluttered helplessly. “That’s…! That’s ridiculous!” he whined.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist lied. “I can’t help you.”

Phoenix realized he might have been a little foolish thinking he could simply waltz in and get the records Apollo himself hadn’t been able to. The world was slightly more complicated than that. Yet still, he’d promised Apollo he would help him. He couldn’t just walk away empty handed after all that work!

Like an angel descending from heaven, a voice whispered in his ear. “Think outside of the box, Phoenix.” His guardian angel sounded strangely like Mia. “You can’t unseal the records, but maybe there’s something else you can get.”

It was like a lightbulb going off, bringing light to the cobwebs in Phoenix’s mind. A sly smirk spread across his face, simultaneously the receptionist felt dread welling in his gut. “While it’s true that my client must be 21 to access identifying information, if you’re familiar with Massachusetts adoption law, then you should also know that my client is entitled to nonidentifying information upon turning 18.”

The receptionist levelled him with a stone cold look. “If your goal is to find Mr. Justice’s parents, this information won’t help you.”

“My client is entitled to it nonetheless.”

A long pause filled the room, as Apollo and Phoenix waited with bated breath. “Let me go talk to one of the social workers.” The receptionist disappeared into the office complex to go find someone with more authority.

Phoenix resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air. About fifteen minutes later, they returned, a small file in hand. “You’re lucky, I was able to get the social worker for your case to release these to you,” gesturing for Apollo to take the file.

He did with the utmost care, holding the papers in his hands like glass. “Sensitive information such as your birthparents’ names are blacked out, but I hope what’s present is satisfying.”

“I’m sure it will be, thank you for your time,” Phoenix said, bowing his bead gratefully.

The three made the long trek back to the first floor of the building, pausing on the curb outside the entrance as Mia left to bring her car back around. In the silence, Apollo finally opened his file, eyes scanning over what little information he had. Phoenix’s heart sank, seeing the many, many redacted sections of Apollo’s file.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get you what you wanted,” Phoenix said dejectedly, his false confidence finally deflated.

Apollo looked up, eyes shining. “Phoenix, no!” He shoved the file under Phoenix’s nose. “Look, I was born here in Middlesex County, I was 6.8 pounds.” He turned the page. “And here are my handprints!” He reverently traced the tiny black marks on the page. “They’re so small, I can’t believe it.”

A ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth as he flipped through. “Phoenix, this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he sniffled.

Phoenix stared at his friend, as Apollo’s hands shook holding onto the paper in his hands. In reality, he hadn’t done that much, only read through law books until his eyes bled and then parroted that information back. And yet it brought his friend so much happiness, so much closure to finally be at least a little closer to his origins.

He pulled Apollo is a bone crushing hug. “I’m going to do everything in my power to do more,” he promised.

Apollo froze for a moment. “You really don’t…”

“I want to,” Phoenix said, pulling away. “This is the closest I’ve ever felt to actually doing something good.”

A car honked in front of them. “I guess that’s our ride,” Phoenix laughed.

The two piled into Mia’s car as she drummed her fingers on the wheel. “How was your first outing as a lawyer?”

Phoenix shrugged. “Kinda disappointing,” he admitted.

Mia chuckled. “Yeah, as much as we might want to we can’t change the law, and sometimes it sucks. But you did some good work with what you had,” she pointed out.

Apollo chimed in. “I have a lot more than I did yesterday.”

Phoenix still felt a knot in his chest, where he wasn’t entirely satisfied. But the happiness in Apollo’s eyes definitely counted for something. “Yeah, but I still want to try and do more.”

Mia elbowed Phoenix gently. “Alright, but be sure to take a break. You’re both coming over for Thanksgiving right? If I recall correctly, someone has a big debate coming up next week.”

Phoenix groaned. “Can we not? I’m on vacation!”

“Oh? I thought you wanted to pass law school?” Mia teased.

Phoenix covered his face with his arms. “Can we go one day without saying the L word, please?”

“Lesbians?” Apollo ventured.

Mia laughed, giving Apollo a high five. “You picked the wrong company if you don’t want to talk about law school or lesbians, Wright.”

Phoenix buried his face in his hands. “Leave me alone, you meanies,” he whimpered.