More Phoenix Wright stuff.

[seikilos]

Title: A Valentine for Miles Edgeworth
Fandom: Phoenix Wright
Genre: Fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.
Rating: G. So G it hurts.
Words: 2777
Disclaimer: I don't own Phoenix Wright. I am not responsible for any loss of teeth due to the extreme sugary nature of this fanfic.
Spoilers? To the last case in Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney--AKA spoilers for Nick's childhood.
Summary: Ms. Idia List wants the class to give valentines to each other, but after what happened several months ago, there isn't anyone in the class Phoenix wants to give his valentine to. Well . . . except maybe one person.
Author's Notes: I was going through Exhibit "A" (a Phoenix Wright image gallery) this morning when I came across this picture from the second Phoenix Wright artbook. It was seriously the cutest thing I've ever seen. My first thought was "Aww, how cute, little Phoenix, Miles, and Larry all got valentines." But then I thought, "Phoenix is looking so bashful--what if he wanted to give the valentine he's holding to Miles?" And thus a fic was born.

I already know it's impossible for this to happen in canon--even going by the Japanese school calendar, the three of them never got to spend Valentine's Day together. But the plotbunny was so damn stubborn I ended up going "What the hell, AU it is." So here you go.

“Good morning, everyone!” The teacher's voice sang through the pre-class chatter, receiving half-hearted greetings in return. “Does everyone know what tomorrow is?”

On the other side of the class, Phoenix watched as Miles Edgeworth politely raised his hand. He was alone in his action as numerous students called out “Valentine's Day, Ms. List!”

“That's right,” Ms. List answered, once the noise had subsided somewhat. “Because of that, I thought we could spend the first part of today making valentines to give to one another tomorrow. I've put the art supplies on the table here.” She indicated the small, white wooden table she was standing next to at the front of the small classroom. “There's just enough construction paper for everyone to make one valentine each. Think hard about who you're going to be giving yours to—and make sure not to leave anyone out. All right, class? Go. . . .”

Her last words were drowned out by the scraping and rattling of student chairs as almost all the students rushed up to the table. Phoenix heard some of them complaining about what a lame activity making valentines was, but he also noticed a lot of them fought just as hard as the students who weren't complaining in order to get the good supplies.

Phoenix stayed at his desk. He knew if he tried to go up there now, he'd only be elbowed out of the way. Once things had cleared up, then he got out of his seat, hands thrust in the front pocket of his blue hoodie, and took a look at what was left.

There wasn't a lot. There were a few sheets of red construction paper and plain white paper, plus the broken gluestick, the one where the glue kept falling out of the tube. He sighed quietly and collected what was left, then went back to his desk.

As he was taking his scissors out of his pencil case, Larry wandered over and planted both hands on top of Phoenix's desk. “Hey, Nick, buddy, who're you sending your valentine to?”

“I dunno, Larry.” Phoenix watched Ms. List show one of his classmates how to make a neater heart by folding the construction paper in half and then cutting it.

“Well, I sure know who I'm sending mine to!” Larry grinned and jerked his chin at a girl with long, curly brown hair. “Marissa! Isn't she great, Nick?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Larry didn't seem to notice his friend's lack of enthusiasm. He chattered on for a while about what exactly made Marissa so great—mainly, that she didn't seem to act much like a girl. Eventually, he headed back to his desk, leaving Phoenix to glumly stare at what would eventually become a valentine for . . . someone.

He didn't want to give anyone a valentine. That was the problem. He still remembered how, a few months ago, everyone had turned against him so quickly when they had thought he had stolen Miles' lunch money. Ever since then, he really hadn't liked his classmates.

Except . . . not everyone had turned against him.

He looked over at Larry, who seemed to be preparing to stick a pencil up his nose. You couldn't give a valentine to Larry. It just didn't seem right. He bet a lot of the girls in his class were thinking the same thing right now.

Slowly, his gaze travelled to the other person who had defended him. Miles was sitting perfectly straight at his desk, reading a book; there wasn't a piece of construction paper or pair of scissors in sight. Phoenix knew the book he was reading wasn't one of the thin, large-lettered mini-novels the teacher kept in the classroom for everyone else to read. Miles read books that even some adults had trouble understanding. He had told Phoenix one day that everyone always accused him of simply pretending to be able to read the books.

Phoenix believed him, though. Miles was the smartest person Phoenix knew. Larry always teased him about how he spoke like an old man, but Phoenix admired him for it. And his writing was better than the teacher's, even though they had only started learning to handwrite earlier that year.

Miles was brave, too. He always stood up to anyone he thought was doing something wrong, and he never moved an inch. He was . . . well, Phoenix didn't really have a word for Miles. “Cool” didn't fit—not with the way Miles dressed, like he was going to have his picture taken at any moment. And “amazing” just seemed like too much . . . or at least, too much to admit to himself.

He watched Miles turn a page, the movement precise, the boy seemingly unaware of the dull roar of noise around him.

That was it, then. He had decided. Phoenix was going to give his valentine to Miles Edgeworth.

He looked back down at his art supplies. He was going to have to do a really good job, then. Miles liked things that were neat.

He folded the construction paper in two, carefully. Taking his pencil, he traced half of a heart on the paper, being as neat as possible. Then, he cut out the shape.

Opening it, he made a disappointed noise. It was way too skinny to look like a proper heart.

He got out of his seat and walked up to the teacher.

“Yes, Phoenix? What is it?” she asked, distractedly turning her attention away from someone else's woes.

“I wrecked it.” He held up his misshapen heart. “Can I get another sheet?”

Ms. List shook her head. “I'm sorry, Phoenix, but you're going to have to try to fix it. We're out of construction paper.”

“. . . Okay.” He went back to his seat and stared at the heart, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

After a moment of quiet discontentment, he tried trimming the bottom of the heart. Now it looked a bit more like a heart, but it was lopsided. He made himself set down the scissors, though, knowing if he kept going, it would only look worse and worse.

Next, he turned his attention to the white paper. Cutting out a rectangle as evenly as possible, he got out his pencil and looked at it, trying to figure out what he wanted to write. From time to time, he snatched glances at Miles, who was still reading his thick, plain-covered book.

Finally, Phoenix wrote:

I really like you.

His pencil hovered for a moment. Should he sign it? Did he dare? He quickly looked over at Miles again, and his face grew hot. No, no, he couldn't. He'd leave it blank and let Miles think one of the girls gave it to him. For some reason, even if the boys used to pick on him a lot and--even now that they had stopped--still didn't like him, Miles was really popular with the girls.

With some effort, thanks to the broken gluestick, Phoenix stuck the rectangle in as close to the middle of the heart as he could. As he waited for it to dry, he couldn't stop from looking at Miles, then looking away again, then sneaking another look at him yet again.

After a while, Miles lowered the book and turned his gaze to Phoenix, who unfortunately happened to be looking at him. His face going red, Phoenix quickly glanced away and shoved his valentine into his desk.

Now the hardest part was: How was he going to get the valentine to Miles without being noticed?

* * *

The next day—Valentine's Day—Phoenix walked to school with Larry and Miles like he always did. But as soon as the school was in sight, he broke into a run, calling over his shoulder, “I'll meet you in class—I've gotta go do something.”

He missed hearing Miles and Larry's replies, too intent on being the first one into class. If he arrived before everyone else, then he could leave Miles' valentine on his desk without anyone noticing.

He pounded up the stairs, breath puffing out of him, and skidded around a corner. Seeing a teacher up ahead, he slowed to the world's speediest walk, and then, when the teacher turned a corner, darted into his homeroom.

Too late! There were already a couple of girls in the classroom, and one of them was already leaving a valentine on Miles' desk.

“Hi Phoenix!”

Phoenix nearly fell over in shock as a voice came from behind him. It was Marissa, the girl Larry liked for not being a girl. Phoenix didn't really get that.

“H-hi Marissa,” he managed to say in return.

“Oh, you've got your valentine!” she exclaimed, noticing the heart Phoenix was clinging onto. “Who are you going to give it to?”

“I—I don't know yet,” he lied, trying to keep his gaze from travelling to Miles' desk. “What about you, Marissa?”

“Don't tell anyone, but” —Marissa leaned in close and whispered— “I was thinking about giving mine to Mike!”

“Oh, okay,” was all Phoenix could think of to say in return.

“Hey, Marissa!” he heard Larry practically shout out from behind him. “Happy Valentine's Day!”

A big red heart dripping in sparkles and marker swirls was thrust past him. Phoenix glanced over his shoulder in time to see Larry with a wide grin—and Miles, rolling his eyes.

Phoenix, uncomfortable, walked away as Larry and Marissa started chattering. Did Miles think Valentine's Day was stupid? . . . Maybe he shouldn't give Miles his valentine after all.

Miles fell into step next to him. He gave a world-weary sigh. “She shouldn't be flattered. Larry will forget about her in a week.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix agreed, hanging up his coat at the back of the room on the hook next to Miles'. He started to feel better. Miles must have been rolling his eyes at Larry—he did it all the time, after all. Things were still okay. He'd just have to find another chance to leave his valentine on Miles' desk.

* * *

His next opportunity came at lunch. As everyone filed out of the classroom, Phoenix told Miles and Larry to go on ahead—he'd catch up with them. Larry had agreed right away; Miles had done so after a moment and a suspicious glance that made Phoenix fidget. Finally, however, they and the other students had disappeared, leaving Phoenix alone in the classroom.

Slowly, he walked over to Miles' desk, the valentine clutched in both his hands. He stared down at its clean, fake-wood surface. Did he really dare leave the valentine? He hadn't signed it, but what if Miles recognised his printing?

“Phoenix?”

“Aah!” He slapped the valentine against his chest and covered it with his hands in a futile effort to hide it.

Ms. List stepped into the room. “I'm sorry to scare you. What are you doing still in the classroom?”

“N-nothing, Ms. List.”

Phoenix took several quick steps away from Miles' desk. Just in time, too, as Ms. List came closer and asked, “Are you leaving someone a valentine?”

He quickly shook his head. “No—I'm getting one. Someone gave it to me.”

“Isn't that nice!” his teacher said, beaming.

It wasn't nice, though. What he had said was a lie. No one had given him any valentines. Even before the class trial, he hadn't been very well liked, but now, even though Miles had defended him so well, his classmates were still suspicious of him. As far as Phoenix was concerned, that was fine. If they were going to turn on him so quickly, he didn't want to be friends with any of them.

Phoenix scurried over to his desk, shoved the valentine inside, and then just as quickly walked to the door. “I'm going to go get my lunch.”

“See you after break, then, Phoenix.” She gave him a little wave.

As he hurried down the hall to the lunch room, Phoenix couldn't help but start to worry. Valentine's Day was almost over and he still hadn't had a chance to give Miles his valentine. What if he ran out of time?

* * *

After school was his last chance. When the bell rang for the last time that day, all the students in his class were quick to rush back to the coathooks, retrieve their jackets, and scoot out the door. Phoenix put on his coat as slowly as he possibly could, trying to outwait the teacher.

“Hey, Nick.” Larry tapped him on the shoulder and Phoenix started slightly, too absorbed in his worries to have noticed Larry. That was a first for the noisy boy.

“Yeah, Larry?” Phoenix asked, still moving in slow motion.

“Can't walk with you and Edgey today. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his head with a grin. “Mom's picking me up for a doctor's appointment.”

“Oh, all right,” Phoenix said, trying to sound disappointed and doing his best to keep from smiling. Now all he needed was to get rid of the teacher and Miles, who was standing by the door and waiting just a little too patiently.

The loudspeaker in the room crackled, awakening from its silent state. “Would Ms. Idia List please come to the office? You have a phone call waiting for you.”

As their teacher hurried out the door, brushing past Miles, Phoenix thought all his dreams were coming true at once. He was so close. . . .

Then Miles spoke. “Hurry up, Phoenix. Remember your mother told you to come right home today?”

“I just have to. . . .” Phoenix started.

“Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow. Come on, Phoenix.” Mile turned towards the door.

“But—”

It was no use. If he protested, Miles would want to know what he had to do today that couldn't wait, and then Phoenix would have to tell him about the valentine.

“. . . All right.”

Dejected, he finished putting on his jacket and went after Miles, grabbing the valentine out of his desk as he went and sticking it in his knapsack. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

Phoenix was quiet for most of the way home, too disappointed to feel much like talking. Miles didn't say anything, either, but Phoenix could tell he was watching him.

Finally, just to get Miles to stop looking at him like that, Phoenix asked, “. . . Did you get many valentines today?”

“Mm. A few.” Miles shrugged, dismissing the whole business.

Another silence. There was a question filling Phoenix's mouth, one he knew he shouldn't ask, but when he started to bring up another topic, out it popped: “Who did you give your valentine to?”

“I didn't make a valentine.” Miles shook his head. “It was a waste of class time, and there wasn't anyone I wanted to give one to, anyway.”

“Oh.” Phoenix was both comforted and further disheartened by that, all at the same time. It confused him.

“Although. . . .” Miles gave him a measuring glance. “I might have been able to think of someone if I had tried harder.”

He really didn't know what to say to that. A moment later, they stopped at the end of Miles' driveway.

“See you tomorrow,” Phoenix said a bit awkwardly.

Miles nodded. “See you.”

He turned and walked up his driveway, then entered the front door of his house. Phoenix watched him the whole way. Then, slowly, he swung off his knapsack and dug out the valentine, by now rather battered from its many trials. He read its message for the hundredth time that day:

I really like you.

He looked up and stared at the front door where Miles had just gone into. Then, his heart thumping, his stomach flipping, Phoenix put down his head and ran, pounding along Miles' driveway. He clattered up the steps, whipped open the mailbox cover, threw his valentine inside, slammed the lid shut again, and then tore off before he could lose his courage, grabbing his knapsack from the ground in front of Miles' house without even stopping. His sprint lasted all the way to the front steps of his own home, where he threw himself down and panted, his legs trembling slightly.

He had done it. He had given Miles Edgeworth the valentine.

Now what?

* * *

The next morning before school, Phoenix was eating breakfast when his father came into the room.

“Phoenix, there was a note for you in the mail.” He set down a slip of white paper next to Phoenix's placemat.

Curious, Phoenix read the outside. Printed tidily on it was his name. He opened it.

There, in handwriting so neat it could have been an adult's, were four short words that made Phoenix beam in happy disbelief:

I like you, too.