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“I apologize, sir; it is now past 8 PM, which means visitation hours are over.”
Edgeworth looked beyond the receptionist to view the clock. It had indeed passed 8 PM by over two hours. He understood it was late, but his mind wouldn’t grant him rest until he saw him.
“I spoke with Hotti, the legitimate one. I was informed that I could visit after visitation hours, but only for tonight.”
The receptionist was now concerned, adjusting her glasses. “You spoke to Director Hotti about this, not the patient’s nurse or attending physician?”
Slightly annoyed by the inquiry, Edgeworth crossed his arms, suppressing the urge to stare at the woman coldly. A single question felt like pestering, but he knew it was from exhausting his patience earlier today. After all, she was only doing her job; that’s something he could respect. “It was a last-minute conversation.”
The woman inspected Edgeworth from head to toe, seeming to have read the room, and began typing—presumably his name, as she kept glancing back and forth between the monitor and the license he had given earlier. “You have an hour. Please take this sticker and apply it somewhere onto your jacket, preferably a place where employees can see it.”
Wearing a sticker felt silly to him, but he acknowledged the safety protocols.
Receiving his license and sticker, he thanked her and proceeded towards the second floor. Each step he took felt like the atmosphere was getting heavier and abnormally slower. It was almost as if he were on an alien planet being crushed by the gravity. Yet, he couldn’t stop now, not after he had somehow convinced Hotti that this hour was desperately needed.
It was, though. Maybe not for the trial, but for his heart or mind—he couldn’t tell which was making him restless.
Upon reaching his door, he opened it as quietly as he could. The first thing that caught his attention was that the room smelt of rubbing alcohol, which oddly calmed the nerves in his body. The room was completely dark with the only source of light coming from the muted TV on the wall. It appeared to be playing a nature documentary, giving the space an eerie blue-green hue.
Shifting his attention to the bed, he saw his friend fast asleep on his back, head tilted to the side.
Logically, he was aware that he should just leave, but his legs wouldn’t comply, so he pulled up a chair to position itself right next to the bed.
It was strange witnessing him like this. His usual spiky hair was styled the same, but more disheveled. A few strands of hair fell over his closed eyes, and he overall just looked… rough. Despite this, he was still somehow just as captivating as he normally is. Of course, Edgeworth would never tell a soul about how enjoyable it is to admire Wright, but he could admit it to himself.
He always knew it was an unconventional feeling. People usually sought after family or their significant other for consolation, but he didn’t have either of those options, did he?
Edgeworth couldn’t comprehend what these feelings were, at least not until today. The way Iris spoke about Wright was sweet; it was clear as day that she felt deeply for him. Except, the more she spoke of him, the heavier the pit in his chest became. It was like something took control of him at that moment and made him start interrogating her about their connection. How unprofessional of him.
So why? Why had she looked at him with so much guilt? Why did she look at him like she understood? It’s almost as if she had asked him, “Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that?”
What person would think that after their “defense” attorney bothered them with a million questions about their relationship?
But when he gazed at the delicate face beside him, it all started to make sense. He usually acted abnormal whenever he was discussing Wright. God, his heart was most likely worn on his sleeve the entire time he conversed with Iris.
Wright was undeniably attractive, an exemplary attorney, and so purely good-hearted. So good that he made him relearn what being a prosecutor means.
And for as long as he could remember, he had fallen for his childhood friend. His feelings were so strong and foreign that he was reluctant to ever explore deeper.
“Miles?” A new, uncharacteristically deep voice croaked.
Edgeworth flinched. He couldn’t recall the last time Wright had called him that. It felt unusually intimate, and he had to look away.
“How… how are you here? Aren’t visitation hours over by now?” His voice carried a rasp, courtesy of waking up just now and being ill.
Taking a deep breath, Edgeworth maintained a steady voice. “Hotti gave me an hour. I have around forty-five minutes left.”
And just like that, the room was filled with silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable though—it was like Wright had understood why he was here after that statement.
The bed creaked and Edgeworth finally looked over at the other. Wright was leaning back onto the pillow, looking at the dim ceiling with a soft expression on his face. Puffy eyes and a conspicuous amount of sweat gathered on his neck, he was then again reminded of how sick he was. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
Even feeling like this, Wright was always thinking about other people. It was admirable: that’s probably what makes him such a notable attorney.
The prosecutor smiled faintly. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now; I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself.”
“I think you know the answer to that already.” He joked, but Edgeworth felt a sudden need to care for him. If he knew anything about his old friend, he was so selfless that he would neglect his own needs.
The fact that he’s bound to one place during such a salient case is driving him insane, he knows it. Dark eyes glared into the others, promptly changing the vibe. “Wright, I understand that you’re worried, but I believe I don’t need to reiterate what I said a year ago.”
Wright was dumbfounded, and then his face twisted into confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked back at him with the same maddening eyes. “Remember? We are only human—we can only do so much. What use are you as a defense attorney if you miss another day because you refuse to care for yourself? Your unwavering belief and altruism are noteworthy, but when will you rest? When will you realize that your well-being is just as important as all of your clients?”
Dead quiet. Those doe eyes burned into his with a dazed, glossy look. Yet, the muscles in his face started to relax, like he lost the fight with his body.
“I’m sorry, Edgeworth..” a cough, “I know this has all been a burden for you. You’ve done so much, and I’m…” his words abruptly stopped as he went into a coughing fit.
He was so delicate, so undeniably good. Edgeworth smiled at him, eyes lidded. “You have done much more for me. It’s going to take an eternity to ever repay you.”
Deciding to leave it at that, Wright tilted his head with a sniffle. “You never told me, what are you feeling right now?”
Normally, he would’ve deflected the question, but that was normally, and this is Wright. The words would just flow out of him like a sonata whenever it came to him. “..I don’t know what I’m feeling. This was my dream, but doing this now after everything just… feels like I’m re-opening wounds.”
Wright focused on him—eyes soft, remorseful, yet there was a glint. This was the same glint he would see in the courtroom, and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss seeing it. It was troublesome at first, but towards the end, he knew that once Wright had that look in his eyes, it was all going to be alright.
Which means it was all going to be alright. If he saw hope, then it was there.
Another sniffle. “I understand. It’s scary, but, isn’t there a part of you that’s excited?”
He scoffed at this but didn’t say anything as a rebuttal, because there was a part of him that was thrilled. It was uncanny how well they could understand each other, no matter how many years they’d spent away. Then again, Wright did say all those years ago that he was the only one who knew his true self.
Taking his silence as an answer, Wright leaned a little closer to him and pointed at the TV mounted onto the wall in front of them. “I wish I could watch the trial, I’ll be reading the records of you after though.”
“How exciting.” Edgeworth quipped.
The other man laughed. “I’m serious!”
Just like that, the room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, except this time, it was awkward.
He had urgently tried to push this new, sudden thought down and lock it inside a chest, but it seemed to have found its way out. Edgeworth bit his lip and looked down, wondering if the question that lay on the tip of his tongue was even worth speaking.
It just spilled out, though. Despite all of his desperate efforts, it appeared that he couldn’t control what he finally grasped as his heart voicing its opinions. “Do you have feelings for Iris?”
Wright’s eyes widened, face going pink. It was like the sun enveloped him. “That’s random… why do you ask?”
He shouldn’t be doing this. Looking away from the attorney’s face, his voice became more quiet. “You both act so giddy when the other’s name is brought up. I just thought that it might be relevant to the case.”
“She just reminds me of someone..” Wright trailed off in a befuddled tone. Though he was confused about the sudden shift of topic, he didn’t seem defensive or opposed. Seeing his timid reaction made his throat close up.
Both he and Iris held tender expressions whenever the other name spoken, implied even. All of this was dangerous. It was sickening.
Taking a moment to collect himself, Edgeworth released his breath. It all hurt so much that it was starting to suffocate him. “You need to rest, and I do as well. I’ll… do the best that I can.“
He gasped when a scorching hot hand gripped his wrist. When he looked back at Wright, the other looked at him with such an intricate look that it made him freeze.
“Edgeworth.” His voice cracked, “I didn’t realize until the last trial we experienced, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this. I trust you.”
With his free hand, Edgeworth reached for his forehead and pushed the loose strands out of his face. His head was just as sweaty as the palm that held his wrist. It was Wright’s turn to stop moving as the other pushed his hair strands behind his ear.
“…Worrying isn’t a good look on that face of yours. I hope you feel better soon.” He replied with a dulcet tone.
“Thank you for everything.” Wright coughed out, eyes growing tired.
Though he finally felt as though he could get a full night's rest, this departure was oddly bittersweet. Instead of feeling constant worry for him, the feeling in his chest took over his whole body like a parasite.
It made his eyes water, but wasn’t this the whole reason why he came here? Didn’t he come here to only monitor and see him?
But then, it hit him. It’s bittersweet because he has feelings for Iris, and not him. He’s never looked at him the same way he does when it’s with her. Maybe this option would be better for Wright though, because what chance do they have when he lives in a completely different country? When he’s a guy?
If this was the way things were going to end; though, he wanted to be a little selfish and keep something with him for when he eventually departs again.
So, if Wright had ever asked Edgeworth why he leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, he would’ve denied ever doing such a thing and blamed it on the fever, as much as it pained him to let him go.