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“Hi, Miles! Good morning!” Phoenix shouted out across the courtyard, waving his hand. He runs towards his friend with the biggest grin on his face. The crisp air blows as he crunches a few leaves under his feet on the way. The autumn season starts to peek through, a welcome change from the hot summer days.
“It’s Edgeworth, Wright. You may only address me with my last name as it is only formal. Hello to you too.” Miles responds, chiding the boy. He adjusts his little bow tie and his backpack, then puts both of his hands into his pocket, resuming his walk towards his first class for the day.
“Sorry! Edgeworth, I mean.” Phoenix scratches his head, looking abashed. They’ve had this conversation multiple times before, but Phoenix keeps on insisting. Miles just looks unimpressed each time, by now, Phoenix would say once more—
“But I’m your friend! Can’t friends call each other by their first names?” Phoenix pouts. There it is. Phoenix had said something about sounding ‘closer’ before by calling each other with their first name, but Miles just thinks it’s completely unprofessional. Phoenix looks like a kicked puppy as usual. But as pitiful as he looks, Miles did not budge an inch.
“Spare me your crocodile tears.” Miles scoffs, “When I become a lawyer one day, calling me with my last name would simply be second nature.” He smiles proudly, entering the building.
It has been a few months ever since the class trial, where he defended this boy and declared him innocent. Phoenix seems to be eternally grateful enough that he follows Miles around, and once asked him if they could be friends. Miles had agreed to the friendship, and Phoenix has not left his side ever since.
“Ooh! Ooh! I know that one, it means ‘fake tears’, right!?” Larry chimed in, approaching the two, “See!? I do listen to class, Edgey!”
That one too. It’s like Larry and Phoenix are a package deal, inseparable by any means. Miles heard that they live quite close to each other, and have known each other forever. All Miles knows is that he has never known a moment of peace with these two, always dragging him into trouble. But it’s quite fun, he never expected to gain friends this year as a new transfer student, so he supposes they’re not that bad. He climbs the stairs to the second floor with the two of them, where their classroom is located.
“But isn’t your dad Mr. Edgeworth too? Wouldn’t that get confusing?” Phoenix asks, “And Larry, you probably only knew about it because Samantha said she likes boys who are good at English.”
“We can both be Mr. Edgeworth at the same time! There are plenty of lawyers with the same last name, even if they are not related.” Miles explains, waving an open palm as Larry butts in. Something he does often. Truly living up his namesake.
“Hey!” Larry exclaims, “…You are so right! Do you think she’ll like it if I say a big word?” He tilts his head, thinking.
“Uh, I guess she will?” Phoenix shrugs, looking at Miles for advice.
“I suggest starting with the word, ‘complicated’. She’ll surely be impressed with that.” Miles says, sure of himself.
“Nice! Thanks, dude! How do you find all these big words anyway?” Larry asks, a goofy grin on his face, waving his jacket sleeve around. Unlike the two, he wore an orange jacket over his uniform. He always wore it regardless of the weather.
“Start with a dictionary, Butz. I’ve read every dictionary ever since I learned how to read.” Miles steps inside the classroom, setting his bag down on his usual chair.
“...They’re kinda boring, Edgey! No offense but, it’s just words and more words!” Larry sets down his bag a chair apart from Miles’.
“I think that’s the point of a dictionary, Larry.” Phoenix sits down in the seat between their chairs.
The day was a typical school day, learning about new lessons, a couple of quizzes, and breaks spent with the two of his friends. They chatted about the Signal Samurai, discussing the newest episode that absolutely blew their minds. They ran across the field, and followed Miles to the library, to which Larry cannot stay quiet in, and was kicked out by the librarian in charge. Miles shook his head in disappointment, but a small smile never left his face. Time spent with friends was always something he treasured, and he hopes that in the future they’ll still be just like the three youthful school boys who laughed and played together everyday.
The bell rings. It’s time for the last class of the day, the dreaded art class, located in the art room. Phoenix and Larry love art class, but for Miles, not much. He’s not a big fan of squiggles and colors when he could read and write instead. Words fill his head, letting his imagination run wild. Pictures in books only limit his mind, and everyone knows those are for babies, obviously. An exception to this would be Signal Samurai, that kind of art is really cool. For once in his life, he wished he was able to draw, but unlike the cool sketches Phoenix does, he can only manage a measly box with two dots for eyes. Larry says that at least it isn’t a stick man, but Miles can only hear it as an act of pity.
As the teacher enters the room, they greet her with a bow.
“Today, I’d like you to go to pairs of two.” The teacher starts. “After you find your pair, I’ll discuss your task. Now, go!”
Like a dog’s trick, the word ‘go’ immediately takes effect. The kids rush to their friends, acquaintances or anyone they could reach. Chaos erupts in the room as each tries to scramble around finding a pair, some even fighting over one.
Phoenix and Miles don't have to worry about that though, as Larry is already off to pair with Samantha.
“Samantha has no pair, it’s totally my chance!” He said in a hurry while holding up fingerguns, winking, and soon disappeared in the crowd of children.
“Typical Larry.” Phoenix sighs, turning to Miles. He realizes he’s a bit too close, practically side by side. After ‘claiming’ Miles with the close proximity rule by the ancient book of class groupings, he seemed like he didn’t notice how close, close proximity is.
“S-Sorry…” Phoenix stutters, practically red in the face.
“...Are you sick? I can call the nurse.” Miles furrowed his tiny brow, drawing him closer, checking his friend’s temperature by gently placing his forehead against Phoenix’s.
Phoenix freezes, and somehow reddens twice in shade. In a small voice he starts squeaking, “W-What are you doing?”
“My father checks my temperature this way. You seem fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to go.” Miles says, his cloudy gray eyes closer to Phoenix’s mismatched ones more than ever. He removes his forehead from the other, ready to raise his hand to call the teacher.
“Miles! I’m fine, you don’t have to call the teacher!” Phoenix says in a hurried whisper, grabbing his arm down. He is slowly returning to his original color. “I want to be in art class!”
“If you say so…” Miles seems hesitant. “Also, it’s Edgeworth, not Miles.” Miles corrects him once more.
“Edgeworth, I’m really fine.” Phoenix reassures his friend, and didn’t even put up a fight this time. “It’s just um, a bit hot in here.”
“Hot?” Miles curls up an eyebrow in confusion. “It’s rather cold, in my opinion. Look at my hand.” Miles shows his pale hands, whiter than his pale skin.
“What happened to it?” Phoenix asks worriedly, but a sound interrupts their conversation before Miles can even reply.
“Ahem. You two boys right there.” The teacher clears their throat, looking at the two. All the kids have been paired up already without them noticing, too caught up in their little bubble. “Care to share your conversation with the class?”
“I was just showing Wright that my hands often get cold, that’s all.” Miles responds, showing his hand.
“...Right.” The teacher sighs.
“Huh, me?” Phoenix points to himself.
“No, not you, just—” The teacher waves him off, feeling a lot more underpaid than ever, “I’ll be continuing my discussion now, okay?”
Miles and Phoenix both nod, the latter rather vigorously, their full attention now on the teacher.
“Our task today will be using nature as art, so, with your partner, collect as many leaves, twigs or anything found in nature in the school’s courtyard and be back in twenty minutes.”
“Teacher, what will we be doing with the stuff?” A classmate raises a hand, asking.
“Yes, I was just getting to the point.” The teacher brings out paint out, small paper trays, and paper too. “You’ll be using them as a stamp, and after you come back to the room, you’ll be dipping your items in paint and stamping them on this paper right here.”
The teacher brings out a sample work, one made much earlier. A tree was made out of the silhouette of a twig and smaller leaves. “I did this one yesterday. You can make any design you want, feel free to explore your creativity.”
“Can I make a rocket ship?” Another kid asks.
“Yes, yes, as I said, you can make anything you’d like. I’m setting a timer right now, so you all better hurry.” The teacher says, holding out a timer, the round one used for cooking. “Line up.”
They all line up per pair as they start walking towards the courtyard, with all of them following the teacher. Everyone is discussing their ideas on what to make, some wanting a simpler design and others, complex.
“Psst! Edgeworth, what do we do for the design?” Phoenix whispers, but his words get drowned out by the other kids’ whispers around them.
“What? I cannot hear you.” Miles shouts, even if they’re right next to each other.
“What… do… we… do…—” Phoenix says slowly, exaggerating the way he spoke.
“Ah yes, the design. I’m thinking of something abstract.” Miles nods.
Phoenix looks confused. Miles realizes his fault immediately, fixing his bowtie.
“Ab-str-act.” Miles says slowly, just like Phoenix did.
“Sounds cool! Let’s do that then.” Phoenix grins, giving a thumbs-up. That one didn’t need to be slowed down to understand.
The cold autumn air hits them once they’ve exited the main building, as if waiting for a victim. The school courtyard’s trees sway in the wind, leaves in the shades of orange and yellow. The other children disperse to different areas, starting to pick things from the ground.
Miles shivers, putting his hands on his pockets, but somehow, it wasn’t enough. “How on earth did it get colder at the end of the day?” Miles murmurs.
“You okay, Edgeworth?” Phoenix says, concerned. “You’re shaking a bit.” He’s really perceptive at times like these.
“It’s nothing, I’m alright, just a bit cold.” Miles rubs his hands together to generate at least a little heat. He blows on it for good measure.
“Um…” Phoenix looks at his own hands, a bold idea forming in his mind.
Phoenix breathes once, then twice.
Miles starts to pick the needed materials with his right hand, squatting on the ground so he wouldn’t get his clothes dirty.
“If you want…. the uh…” Phoenix stammers.
Miles is too focused on picking leaves out to notice Phoenix. Some leaves have such a nice color, but he really isn’t here for that. One leaf in particular had multiple holes, a dried brown leaf. It looks good to use for texture, something he learned in the discussion last week. Maybe he should find a flowerbed next, petals would make a nice stamp.
“The uh…. The—”
Miles waddles to the side where a flowerbed sits. He picks up the fallen flowers because picking perfectly good ones would be a waste. The flower has such a perfect shape, five even petals. He believes it’s called Hibiscus. He read that some kinds bloom even in autumn.
“Your— uhm….”
Miles goes back to picking up leaves, there are different kinds around the courtyard, and it would show a variety of shapes when used as stamps. Having many shapes would be advantageous to the outcome of the art.
“My uh…..”
Miles waddles back to the flowerbed. He picks the blooming flowers not for the project, but to give to his father when they arrive home. It would be embarrassing to give it at school after all. He puts it in his other-other pocket, the one near his heart.
“We could….”
After a few minutes of his friend being so speechless and uttering absolute nonsense, Miles simply had to inquire what was happening to him. What could it be that distracts him from doing the required task?
“Are you alright, Wright? Maybe you should have really gone to the nurse.” Miles finally turned to his friend, expressing his worry for someone who is as red as he was before, when they were inside the classroom.
“No, uh— Hand!” Phoenix shows his right palm out, his voice shrill. Miles is so puzzled on what to do with it, he raises an eyebrow, hoping that would convey how he feels.
“What exactly do you want me to do with your hand?” Miles stares at it confused, he blinks once, then twice.
“You…. can….. hold…” Phoenix squeaks out, the word softer after the next. He’s so weird sometimes.
“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Miles says with a dawning realization, finally understanding Phoenix. He reaches for the hand, holding Phoenix’s right hand with his own left one. Their fingers slowly interlock, cold meeting warmth.
“Yes… so you wouldn’t be… cold.” Phoenix finally made a lot more sense, averting his eyes away and looking at everywhere else but Miles. He looks embarrassed, but there was no need to be, he’s quite literally offering a helping hand.
“Thank you. That’s thoughtful of you.” Miles smiled, going back to his work.
Phoenix’s hands are warm, but also a bit clammy, sweaty and shaky. The gesture was sweet enough that Miles decided to give it a chance anyway. He was right, Miles was a lot less colder with Phoenix on hand.
“Your hand feels nice.” Miles hummed, trying to pick out a nice smooth rock that is small enough to easily fit in his pocket.
“It is…!?” Phoenix squeaked out. Miles is a little worried his friend might turn into a mouse with all his squeaking.
Miles just nods as Phoenix squats in the spot next to him to pick up materials with his free hand too. A lot quicker too actually, like he’s just shoving things mindlessly into his pocket. Anyway, it’s a good thing he can finally do his work, Miles’ pockets were getting half-full.
After a whole minute or so of holding each other, Phoenix's hands stopped shaking. The cold wind blows softly, yet Miles doesn’t shiver like before, only his hair waving with the breeze. He does need a haircut soon, his bangs are getting quite long. He’ll probably tell his father after school, but first, he has to make the best looking abstract nature art the world has ever seen.
“Um, if you want you could….” Phoenix pauses his search, his words trailing off the moment he looked at Miles. He gulps hard, his eyes shining.
“I could, what?” Miles asks, picking the best looking twigs out of the ground. Twigs would make for good lines around the work.
Phoenix breathes out, like he has been holding his breath for a while. As if he had gained newfound courage, he speaks up with the steadiest voice he has spoken in comparison to the last few minutes.
“...You can hold my hand for the rest of the day… so you wouldn’t be cold… ever…” Phoenix shyly holds their hands together tighter.
“It’s a brilliant idea.” Miles smiles brightly. “Maybe you could even hold my hand tomorrow.” Miles doesn’t like the feeling of a jacket on his arms at times, and it would be inconvenient to do anything with mittens.
“...Tomorrow?” Phoenix squeaks again. “Sure…! Sure!” He nods so fast that Miles is afraid he’ll break his neck. Phoenix is a very considerate friend.
“Time’s up. It’s paint time!” The teacher calls out. The timer chimes softly, getting farther away every second.
“Ack! Forgot to grab more!” Phoenix hastily grabs as much as he can with one hand, shoving them even faster into his pocket. Miles joins him in doing so, but is careful not to break the twigs he carefully picked out. They both rise up to stand, watching all the other kids disappear inside the entrance of the school.
“Let’s go!” Phoenix smiles like he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come, dragging Miles with him, swinging their interlocked hands in the air. Miles nods, following after the boy, letting him lead through the way.
They both hope that deep down, the other would hold tighter, never letting go no matter what.
—
“It’s surprising you still remember that day.” Miles says, reading a book on his left hand. He adjusts his glasses with his wrist, trying to read the next paragraph that Phoenix’s recollection distracted him from.
“Of course I did, that was the first time we held hands. As far as I remember, I cried happily that night thinking about it.” Phoenix smiles, voice muffled by the pillow on Miles’ lap. Miles’ thin hands run through his spiky hair, a gentle satisfied hum as he hugs his husband’s waist tighter.
“How clingy.” Miles rolls his eyes, but he never hides his soft eyes and sappy smile. He places his book on the side table, his full focus on the man on his lap.
“You love it.” Phoenix responds, grabbing Miles’ now free hand, kissing it and holding it tenderly.
“That, I do.” Miles kisses Phoenix’s forehead, staring lovingly in the other’s eyes. Miles’ hands are a lot warmer these days with Phoenix’s holding them.
He never shivers on cold autumn days again as Phoenix is always right by his side, ready to offer his hands whenever.
Phoenix closes his eyes, ready to take a nap, bringing their linked hands closer to his face for comfort. Miles removes his glasses with his right hand, and leans deeper into the sofa, joining his husband in dreamland.
And in their intertwined hands, a pair of gold rings shines, one with a dainty pink gem and one in blue. A promise of forever, that once they’ve connected, they will never let go.