Chapter Text
Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he figured it out.
No, wait, that was a lie. He probably realized it when he was a mere eight years old. But he hadn’t come to terms with his feelings until recently. As of late, they’d kept surfacing, so frustrating, so ridiculing, so unnecessary...
Releasing a sigh through grit teeth, Miles set his mug of hot tea down on his desk none-too-gently. The sound resonated through his roomy office. He leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes fall shut, if only for a moment.
For Christ’s sake, he thought, work should be making him stressed. Not this.
Damn you, Wright.
He wanted nothing more than to face his feelings head-on (deep-down, of course), but that was awfully unrealistic. After all, it was fairly clear that the object of his irritation and adoration alike was not interested him in a romantic way.
The thought made his stomach churn, nasty and resentful. It was selfish of him to want something that was so far out of his reach. To yearn for someone who he saw so frequently, yet who felt so very far away…
He uncharacteristically chugged down the last bit of his tea, ignoring the way it very obviously burnt his tongue. Pain was a good distraction for this, anyway.
----
The morning seemed to drag on and on. Miles had finished up what paperwork he needed for the upcoming trial next week, but there were still more errands to finish. He had heard from Gumshoe that Wright would be having a trial today. He was to face off against Prosecutor Payne. Miles didn’t know the details of the case, but he didn’t particularly care. He considered stopping by later to get a look at the trial before the afternoon finished…
An unrestrained knock at his door shook him from his thoughts. “Mister Edgeworth, sir!” he heard, faithful as ever, muffled on the other side.
Quietly, Miles made his way to the door, pulling it open, faced with a wide-grinned detective. “Here are the rest of those documents you wanted, sir!”
Miles’ head thrummed at the thought of more work, but he nodded in approval, sidestepping to let the detective in. “Thank you, Gumshoe. Just set them on my desk.”
Gumshoe did, then turned to the prosecutor, worried wrinkles lining his forehead. “You all right, sir? You should really take a vacation sometime.”
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine,” he all-but seethed. A plain lie, but Gumshoe didn’t push. Miles had spent far too much time today daydreaming about a certain air-headed defense attorney, thoughts that had no place in his head insisting on making their home there for the day regardless. “Just… quite sleep-deprived. I’ll manage, however.”
Gumshoe’s concern didn’t wane. Something about his puppy dog eyes almost made Miles feel guilty for making him worry. What a foolish thought that was.
“I know!” the detective suddenly barked, chipper as ever. “Let’s get some lunch! That always cheers me up!”
The thought of food was not especially uplifting for Miles. Tea, maybe. But he’d already had three cups this morning and it’d done no good to calm his mind.
“I’m not hungry. Thank you anyway, Gumshoe.”
Gumshoe’s lips twisted in thought, as if he were trying to come up with a plan to make his boss feel better.
Miles picked up on it with a tired sigh. “Just… leave me to my work for now. I will pick up some food a little while later.”
Gumshoe began making his way to the door. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Just focus on your work for now, sir!” he offered a wave before pulling the door shut after him.
Miles checked the time, then sized up the paperwork on his desk. Work was his first priority, and while he wanted to be thorough, he also wanted to catch Wright before his trial ended. He bit his lip in contemplation. Straightening his jacket on himself with finality, Miles made his decision, briskly walking out of his office.
It was a stupid decision. But his foolish curiosity and infatuation had gotten the better of him.
----
Watching Wright in court was like watching a performance. A play, perhaps. Something made for one’s entertainment. Wright always worked in the same manner; he’d fumble over words, struggle to find conclusive evidence or a hole in a theory. He’d presumably fail until the moment when his client needed him most. Then, it was all cocky smiles and accusatory fingers. Suddenly, it was like the man had shifted into another personality, another form of himself. He was confident, assured, distinguished, leaving his clumsy and childish persona behind.
(Miles had fallen for both personalities, though he would rather not dwell on that.)
The trial ended with a verdict of ‘Not Guilty.’ Wright and his assistant, Maya Fey, celebrated merrily while Payne nearly face-planted the desk in defeat. Miles resisted the immature reaction to roll his eyes at the prosecutor. He really did get ahead of himself sometimes.
Everyone filed out of the courtroom and Miles lingered near the doorway, hoping to catch Wright before he left. It was nearing three o’clock. He still had that paperwork to finish, but his own case wasn’t to be held until sometime next week. He still had time.
Wright and his assistant were the last two to leave the courtroom. Taking a small breath for courage, Miles approached them, closing the already small distance between them.
“Wright.”
Hardly a greeting, Wright ought to be used to it by now.
From the way he beamed in return, he was. “Edgeworth! What brings you here?”
Miles’ eyes darted down to Maya, who was also smiling at him expectantly. These two sure seemed happy to see him. “I was in the area and thought I would drop by,” he lied without hesitance.
“Oh,” Wright looked surprised, but he was still smiling. “Well, I’m glad you did. Actually, I have something to ask you.”
Miles’ heart lurched abruptly in anticipation. He tried to keep the hopefulness out of his eyes. Just what could Wright need from him? “And that is?” he asked carefully.
“Well,” Wright moved his palm to the nape of his neck, his signature pose of sheepishness. “It’s gonna sound a little weird to you, probably. But today is actually Larry’s birthday. He and I are gonna go out for drinks tonight and we thought it’d be nice if you’d tag along.”
Miles sucked in a sharp breath, shocked by the invitation. Him? Out drinking? It’d been a while since he’d had drinks with a group of friends…
Well. Come to think of it, he’d never had drinks with a group of friends.
That was sort of pathetic.
“I’m a busy man, Wright,” he kept his tone clipped. “I don’t plan to spend my spare time drinking at some filthy bar.”
The hurt, kicked-puppy expression on Wright’s face was enough to crack Miles’ resolve right down the middle.
“However,” he continued after a beat, not meeting the defense attorney’s eyes, “since it is Larry’s birthday, I’ll make an exception.”
“Really?” Wright straightened up excitedly. “You won’t regret it, Edgeworth! It’ll be really fun!”
“I wanna go!” Maya whined suddenly.
“When you’re older, kid,” Wright teased her, nudging her in the arm. His assistant huffed, her overgrown bangs concealing the childlike glare on her face.
Miles felt awkward, uncertain he would ever be able to engage in such banter himself. “Well, then. I’ll need the details of the time and place.”
“Oh, yeah,” Wright realized. “It’s at The Red Room down on 6th street. Kinda boujie bar and lounge that Larry decided to blow his money on for the night,” he explained in a huff. “You’d think he’d learn.”
Miles smiled wryly at that. “I can’t say I’m surprised, though.”
Wright laughed a little. “True. Anyway, eight o’clock should be good. See you there!”
With that, Wright left the building, Maya trotting alongside him. Miles stood there for a couple more minutes, gathering his thoughts and mentally preparing himself for the evening his heart was about to endure. Although he’d be third-wheeling a bit, he and Wright would still have some time to themselves.
----
More time to themselves than thought possible, Miles realized.
Larry had met a woman at the lounge and they’d hit it off. How true that claim was, Miles didn’t necessarily know, as the two seemed fabulously drunk, and what little inhibitions Larry had left he’d thrown to the wind.
“Hate to leave so soon, but ya know,” Larry winked at his two friends, “duty calls.”
He left with a giggling redhead hanging off his arm, leaving behind Wright and Miles who sat at the bar. Miles was having trouble getting comfortable in his seat. These bar stools had no support, and the leather stuck uncomfortably to his slacks. He’d arrived on time, but the other two had gotten here early and Larry had taken the liberty of getting drunk immediately, it seemed. Even after ten minutes of sitting here, Miles felt increasingly out of place.
Wright seemed oblivious to this. “So, want a drink? I’ll buy.”
Miles fixed the defense attorney with a hard look, and he received a docile one in reply. “Don’t be foolish, Wright. I’ll buy the drinks. What do you want?”
This was so preposterous. He couldn’t believe that he and Wright were actually alone together. He’d had the opportunity to do this so many times before, but it was always in a professional environment and certainly never under the influence.
He was hyper-aware of Wright’s body heat as the man shifted beside him, bare elbows folded across the bar counter. In only black slacks and a white button-down, Wright looked tremendously average, yet somehow so unbearably handsome all the same.
“Rum and Coke’d be good.”
“Very well.” Miles flagged down the bartender. He ordered a vodka soda for himself. While wine was usually his go-to, and the only alcohol he normally chose to indulge in, this setting held a chaotic air, and wine probably wouldn’t pair well in a place with a deep, EDM bassline as its heartbeat.
“So, how’ve things been going?”
Miles resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. The dreaded small talk.
The prosecutor kept his eyes ahead, gaze tracing silently over engraved initials on the wooden bar counter. “How do you think, Wright?”
“Well, judging by the wrinkles, you’re busier than usual.”
Miles gave him an appalled look, to which Wright laughed loudly. “Only kidding!” he assured, but Miles was hardly convinced. “You do seem tired, though. Distracted, too.” He paused after a moment, as if he’d pried too much. “Not that I really hang around you to know your habits well enough, but.”
Miles stared at the dark-haired man for a moment, studying the masculine angle of his jaw and the ridiculous, but somehow endearing style of his hair. Was Wright worried about him?
“I have been,” Miles admitted. He fell quiet as the bartender delivered their drinks, choosing to elaborate after he’d left. “I am not sure what to do, honestly.” He took a swig of his drink and made a sour face. He hadn’t had a drink like this in a while. It wasn’t bad, just… unexpected. “My thoughts are interfering with my work.”
Wright looked slightly uncomfortable beside him. Oh, god. Had he said too much? Had Wright somehow understood his vague confession?
“Is it… the nightmares?” Wright finally asked, barely heard under the music.
Miles, for once, was relieved to hear about the topic. “Not… not really. They don’t bother me anymore, thanks to you.”
A silence hung between them, but it was not as awkward as Miles had anticipated. The steady beat of tasteless music drawled on in the room over, and Wright turned to smile at him in a charmingly crooked way.
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
Miles swallowed, feeling as though his heart had jumped to his throat.
Wright idly thumbed the condensation at his glass, eyeing his drink wistfully. “I know things are… different than they used to be,” he put it gently. “But… I’m still your friend. I’m still here for you whenever you need me.” His expression grew solemn, eyes locking earnestly with the prosecutor’s. “For whatever you need.”
Miles tried not to take that the wrong way, hurriedly ordering them another round of drinks for a makeshift distraction. “Well. The same goes for you, Wright,” he answered rather skittishly, attempting to will his nerves to keep calm. The heat between them felt so real in a short moment.
Wright merely smiled. He surely did not feel the warmth like Miles did.
As the evening faded away, Miles efficiently a bit light-headed from all the drinks, the two found themselves in a much less tense atmosphere than before. They shared some old stories, resurfacing fond nostalgia and reminiscing about simpler times that only the two of them shared. It was… nice.
With a little alcohol in his system, it was even easier to ignore the worries of the world and the papers on his desk. All that mattered right now was Wright, and their rare moments alone together.
“I wish that we could’ve hung out as teenagers. Can you imagine?” Wright asked the question with incredulity, as if it were the biggest missed opportunity the universe had ever been faced with. “We woulda had so much fun.”
Miles snorted, taking another shot. The room spun pleasantly at the edges as he set down the empty glass. “I don’t imagine that you and I would have gotten into many shenanigans.”
“You kidding?” Wright’s brows shot up. His face was flushed a pretty rosy shade, clearly affected by the drinks as well. “Edge--Miles--we woulda been the most badass duo in L.A.!”
Miles felt a tingle run down his spine at the mention of his first name. So natural. So… enticing, coming from that gentle tenor.
“I doubt that you did anything crazy as a teenager.”
Wright scoffed in mock-offence. “I was the craziest!”
“Is that right?” Miles hummed, amused.
Wright met him with a glare, but his lips were twitching at the corners. “I’ll have you know I partied quite a bit as a teenager. And in college,” he added thoughtfully. “Lots of late nights, cops were called, houses were TP-ed…”
“As if I’d want to be involved in such tomfoolery.”
“But it was the best!” protested the attorney, “one time I was forced to camp out in my car for the night ‘cause the police were called on a noise complaint. There was underaged drinking, too. So my dumbass stayed in the car all night with--”
Miles waited for him to continue, raising a brow when the story lingered without a punchline.
Wright’s face flushed, though it didn’t seem to be from the alcohol this time. “Uh. Never mind.”
“No, please,” Miles gestured with his glass, nodding, “go on.”
Wright nibbled his lip. Miles watched the movement a little too intently. Hopefully, Wright was too tipsy to take note of that. “It’s… it’s embarrassing…”
Now Miles’ interest was seriously piqued. “What happened?” he pressed.
Wright wouldn’t meet his gaze, now. He kept touching the sides of his glass nervously. “Well… I was in the car with… with Dahlia. She was at the party, too.”
Miles’ jaw tightened. His blood felt as though it’d run cold. “I see.”
It shouldn’t really be that big of a deal. To Wright, Miles probably just looked disgusted, shocked that he would do something like this. But for Miles, it went much, much deeper than that.
“I was… a really stupid kid,” Wright sighed, moving his glass around to toss the half-melted ice back and forth at the bottom. “We… we were young. It seemed so romantic, at the time,” he dully mused. “But… god, I seriously regret losing my virginity in that gross, cramped-ass…”
Miles’ eyes were wide as Wright slowly turned to look at him. “Shit. I just said….that, didn’t I?”
Miles cleared his throat. Although dizzy, he felt a wave of soberness come over him. This was suddenly not quite as fun anymore. “Your personal affairs and adolescent mistakes make no difference to me, Wright.”
The name felt like ice on his tongue, and Wright had felt it, too, because he visibly winced.
“I… I don’t want you to think anything less of--”
“I don’t,” Miles replied, standing from the bar stool. His backside ached from being in the same position for so long. “My bill has been closed. I’ll call you a taxi.”
“Wait… Miles?”
The ache in his friend’s voice sent a pang of guilt to his chest, but he ignored it steadfastly, just like he did with all the other emotions he’d buried so deep inside of him years ago. “It’s fine,” he said finally, though it truly wasn’t. For him, anyway. “You should get home. You have work tomorrow, have you not?”
Wright lowered his head, then nodded. Miles waited for the other man to stand, and they jostled through the throng of dancing bodies to the front of the bar, squeezing past the usher at the entrance. Miles made arrangements for a car for himself, and a taxi for Wright. He wasn’t sure if he could stand another minute with this man. He felt pathetic in front of him, covering up how broken he was with stiff lips and dark eyes. This was what he always did. This was how it should be.
How foolish he was, to think that outside of his fantasies, Wright might…
Miles couldn’t contain the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. As a taxi pulled to the curb, Miles shoved a handful of cash at a wide-eyed Wright.
“Get home safely.”
“Miles, can’t we talk about--”
“We should focus on work.” Miles looked to the side, folding his arms, his fists clenched so tightly it hurt. “Let’s no longer get distracted by trivial matters.” It was more said to himself than to Wright.
Wright reluctantly began getting into the backseat of the cab. “I want to talk later,” he insisted. “Tomorrow.”
Miles heaved an irate sigh. He really did not want to talk about that. It was so selfish of him to grow irrationally angry from this information. Sleeping with her was one thing, but losing his--
Miles shut the door for him, not providing an answer. He didn’t watch--couldn’t watch as the taxi driver drove away, feeling Wright’s hurt stare pinned on him all the while.
When his driver picked him up, Miles felt the weight of his body all at once. He slumped into the backseat, digging his fingers into the corners of his eyes. Work. He needed to focus on work.
But, who was he kidding? He really didn’t think he could get any work done tomorrow.
----
Miles pulled himself out of bed, pleasantly surprised to find that he hadn’t a hangover. That was good, at least, but as the memories of last night came flooding back, a wave of discomfort hung over him regardless.
He fixed himself some tea and freshened up. After a shower, getting dressed, and some final primping, he had to admit that he did feel a little better. A bit more like himself, perhaps. He grimaced at the idea of how he acted last night, so immature and despicable.
He decided that he would talk to Wright. It would be uncomfortable, but he needed to apologize for his half-witted behavior.
During the ride to work, Miles caught a glimpse of the temperature on his dashboard and groaned quietly. Eighty-nine degrees yet again, and it was still just morning. The California heat was truly no joke. Miles definitely preferred Germany, where at least there was some variety and an actual taste of cold weather.
He parked his car and locked it, heels clacking as he made his way to the entrance of his building. Once to his office, he unlocked it and headed for his desk, but blinked in confusion when he saw it was void of any and all documents.
Had Gumshoe come back to get them?
That didn’t make sense. And, although close to Miles, he didn’t have a key to his office on standby. Even if he did, in what situation would he enter without the prosecutor’s permission?
Growing annoyed, Miles made his way behind his desk, taking a seat. He dragged a folder out from the drawer below, reviewing the case files for the trial next week--
--Wait.
His eyes widened as he read over them. He’d gone through and highlighted a number of things, important information he’d spent hours contemplating and perfecting in order to catch his criminal. But all of his files were clean, untouched, and in plain old black and white, void of any and all edits.
Setting the folder down with shaky hands, his eyebrows drew together. What was going on? Who had been in his office? And how had they tampered with the files? How had they obtained an earlier copy? No, that didn’t make sense, there was only one copy to begin with. For what reason would someone have to mix things up like this?
Miles felt uneasy. He made himself his second cup of tea for the day, opting to gaze out his window at the traffic below as he sipped the hot drink, analyzing who could’ve done this. More importantly, what motive did they have?
A knock at the door made him turn to it with round eyes.
“Mister Edgeworth, sir!”
Miles’ breathing went still. He set down his glass.
That wasn’t that strange. Gumshoe typically greeted him in that manner.
Apprehensively, Miles made his way to the door, creaking it open hesitantly.
Gumshoe was unfazed by the prosecutor’s wary behavior, offering a stack of papers to his boss. “Here are the rest of those documents you wanted, sir!”
Miles felt sick to his stomach. What in god’s name was happening?!
He stepped to the side, a little wobbly, and Gumshoe reached out to steady him, concern washing over his features. “Whoa, you okay, there, boss?”
“I’m… fine,” Miles got out, standing up straight again.
Gumshoe studied him skeptically. “You look tired, sir. You should really take a vacation sometime.”
No. That was not the line Miles wanted to hear.
“Gumshoe,” he said seriously, closing the door at once. His expression was firm, but he knew panic showed in his eyes. “Do you remember bringing me these documents before? As in… yesterday?”
The detective’s thick brows drew together. “Uh… can’t say I do,” he replied, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “You requested them yesterday, and I let you know it’d be about a day before they were ready. That’s why I’m stopping by now.”
Miles tried to settle his breathing. “Today, Wright,” he blurted, thoughts running a hundred miles a minute, “he has a trial?”
Gumshoe gave him an odd look. “Yeah, against Payne.”
Miles didn’t know what was happening, or why he was the only one who looked crazy right now, but it was really beginning to overwhelm him.
“I… I need to be alone now, detective,” he announced, mustering a somewhat even voice, “thank you for the documents.”
Gumshoe set said documents on his desk--messily--strewn over the expensive oak. He made for the door, offering the prosecutor an encouraging smile before he left. “I know! I’ll order you some delivery. The food’ll be here in an hour!”
He shut the door, then, and Miles slumped to the floor, an act he’d never do had he been in the right mind. His knees had been buckling throughout the whole conversation, though, and now he could let some of his walls down. He stared blankly at the floor, as if it would provide him an answer to this twisted nonsense of a universe he was stuck in.
Coincidence?
Hell no.
Something was painfully wrong, and Miles was determined to restore things back to normal immediately.
----
By three, Miles was at the courtroom, waiting by the exit. People were discussing the trial, murmuring words of admiration about Phoenix Wright and his unexpectedly capable way of defending. Miles couldn’t dwell on their gossip, said defense attorney now leaving the courtroom.
Miles had checked the date on his phone hours ago. It was still Larry’s birthday, to his dismay. This wasn’t some prank. This was real.
“Wright.” He greeted him the same way as he had yesterday… er, today.
Wright’s face shined with recognition. “Edgeworth! What brings you here?”
Miles glanced at Maya, then around them. He nodded toward a more secluded part of the lobby, and Wright and Maya shared quizzical looks, though followed the prosecutor as he lead them to an empty corner.
“I need you two to listen to me carefully,” he began in a low, calculated voice. “This is going to sound absolutely absurd, but… I would not tell you this unless I truly trusted the two of you.”
The pair were absolutely engaged now, worry etched on Wright’s features and determination on Maya’s.
“I’m stuck in a time loop.”
Wright blinked at him, then looked down at his assistant. Maya’s eyes were wide as she met Wright’s. “Um,” she said uncertainly before cracking an awkward smile. “Good one, Mr. Edgeworth!”
“Maya, what’s he talking--”
“Nick, he’s trying to make a joke! Give him some credit!” Maya whisper-shouted, as if Miles weren’t close enough to hear every word she was saying.
“Oh, uh,” Wright made the same stupid expression, “you’re such a kidder, Edgeworth.”
Miles was floored. “You imbeciles,” he hissed. “Why on earth would I jest about something like that? It isn’t even humorous!”
“I just thought your comedic timing was off,” Maya mumbled.
“No,” Miles asserted, rubbing at his eyes in a moment of overwhelming strain. “I already told you. I trust you two. I would not lie about this.” He met their gazes, then, letting his guard down, showing, for once, a sliver of fear. “I… I don’t know what’s happening or why, but… I already lived today. Yesterday.”
Wright now looked intrigued. He was searching the prosecutor’s face carefully. “Is that… even possible?”
“I would think not,” muttered Miles, crossing his arms. “But your assistant here can temporarily channel deceased relatives, so nothing is off the table, yes?”
Wright looked even more convinced now, though he seemed at a loss for words. “But… why?”
“That is what I want to know,” Miles began to let exasperation leak into his tone. “Why I got stuck the day of Larry’s birthday, I don’t know.”
Wright gasped. “How did you--”
Miles shot him a dry look.
“Oh,” Wright said dumbly, the unspoken question answered in a beat. Maya’s eyes were glimmering; she looked far too eager about this.
“This is so cool!” she chimed. “You’re like a time-traveler!”
“But this is entirely useless time travel,” countered Miles dimly.
“Wait,” Wright intervened, eyes shut tight as if wrapping his head around the situation fully, “I… I completely trust you, Edgeworth, don’t get me wrong, but.” He looked at the prosecutor expectantly. “Can you really prove it?”
Miles blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You know that an attorney needs solid proof to defend his client,” he provided smoothly. “I want to help you, but I’ll need a little more evidence to support this time loop theory of yours.”
Miles’ mouth hung open before he jammed it shut, expression darkening. “Very well. We will meet tonight to have drinks for Larry’s birthday at The Red Room at eight o’clock. You and Larry will arrive early and he will become intoxicated within the hour. He will leave with a woman he meets at the lounge. The two of us will reminisce and drink together like old friends. Everything will go well until you,” he paused, and some sick part of him relished in the starstruck look on Wright’s face, as if the man were looking into the eyes of some sort of god, “you will spill an embarrassing story to me. Then we will go our separate ways.”
The trio fell silent for some long minutes, and Miles shifted his weight expectantly, his fingers white-knuckled, arms folded safely against his chest. While he wasn’t particularly patient about this whole mess, he understood that these two would need time to process everything.
“What... “ Wright finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, a little timid. “What was the embarrassing story?”
Miles raised his eyebrows, pointedly glancing to Maya. She looked thrilled. Wright brushed it off, shaking his head.
“I don’t care. I need total confirmation. Tell me.”
Miles’ lips grew tight as he recalled the description. “During college, you were at a party that got out of hand. You were forced to spend the night in your car where you then lost your--”
“Oh god, it’s true!” Wright yelped, burying his hands into his hair in frustration, turning away. From behind, Miles noticed the tips of his ears were burning bright red. Although heavy with stress, Miles managed a tiny smirk at the reaction. It felt rather good to get back at the attorney for the emotional turmoil he’d previously caused him with the story.
Even though that… hadn’t actually happened yet.
“Okay, okay,” Wright muttered. “I believe you. One-hundred percent.”
Maya whined. “C’mon, Nick, I wanted to hear the end of the story!”
Wright turned back around, glaring down at his assistant. It didn’t hold much bite considering how pink his face still was. “Just let it go, Maya,” he shot back. “He’s telling the truth, that’s the important part.”
Miles felt accomplished, sort of. “Thank you,” he sighed in relief.
“But…” Wright studied the prosecutor, expression hardening into a more solemn one. “That… doesn’t explain anything. No leads. Nothing. Unless you have any idea what could have caused this?”
Miles didn’t even bother pondering it. He’d already done it all morning. “Not a one.”
Wright sighed while Maya tapped at her chin thoughtfully.
“Maybe… maybe you need to change your schedule?” Wright tried.
“Maybe it’s just a one-time thing!” Maya proposed.
Miles doubted that, but perhaps she was right. He would find out soon enough if that theory proved true. In the meantime, he supposed changing his schedule wouldn’t hurt. If he did something the universe wanted him to, then maybe he would be rewarded with proceeding to the next day.
His mind gently tutted at him, reminding him how ridiculous this all was.
“It’s possible,” he agreed, nodding slowly, eyes wandering. “Perhaps… I won’t go to The Red Room tonight. I doubt that Larry will miss me, anyway. I will do something different, and see if that affects the future.”
“Okay!” Maya pumped her fist. “But… if it doesn’t?”
Miles frowned. “It will prove to be a real problem. Especially because I will have to explain these occurrences to you each and every time.”
“Oh,” Maya realized, then winced, lowering her arm. “Oh, that’s true. Wow, that sucks.”
Wright gave her an impassive glance. “Let’s just… see how things play out today, okay?” He turned to Miles then, grasping the prosecutor by his shoulders. Miles’ eyes widened a fraction, stunned by the firm touch.
“Miles,” he addressed him, voice uncharacteristically low, “no matter what happens… no matter how many times…” he searched his eyes with a strange desperation, “I will always believe you.”
Miles let out a breath he’d been unwillingly holding. “I… thank you, Wright. I will come to you if this happens again.”
Wright nodded, then released his hold. “All right,” he looked between his two friends. “Then, let’s do this. Miles, change up your schedule, and see if that works. We’ll go from there.”
Maya grinned, forcing the three of them to put their hands in a small circle. Miles reluctantly complied. She raised her hand up then, breaking the circle. “Team Time Travelers, let’s go!”
----
Miles decided to drive home and spend an evening doing nothing especially important. That must be what the universe wanted--for him to continue his dull and relatively uneventful life. He didn’t deserve a night out with Wright, it seemed.
The traffic was predictably monstrous, but Miles was used to it, and the Gatewater was not terribly far from his office. Once to his room, he took a hot shower and allowed the water and steam to wash over him, soothing his muscles. He sighed in content as he massaged shampoo into his hair. Temporarily forgetting his unfortunate circumstances, he permitted at least one night of relaxation. This was much better than sitting around on some cheap bar stool, that was for sure.
After getting changed into his matching silk pajamas, Miles turned in for the night. He read a bit of his book, glasses perched on his nose. Once he was tired enough to effectively doze off, Miles laid down, clicking off the lamp. He set his book and his glasses on the bedside table, pausing contemplatively. He always set his glasses parallel alongside his book. This time, he tweaked his glasses at an angle. It bothered him a bit, but it needed to be used as a placeholder.
With a thought pleading enough to be a prayer, he drifted off.
----
Miles awoke to a pair of perfectly straight glasses on his nightstand.
He stared at the eyewear with a grimace strong enough to burn right through the lenses.
Dragging himself out of bed, he checked the date shown on his phone, confirming his suspicions.
Well, that didn’t work. Why me? he thought uselessly.
----
It was fifteen after eleven. Miles had passed on the tea for today. He would try anything to differentiate his routine from the first time.
It was eleven-sixteen now. Should be right about the time when…
Knock, knock. “Mister Edgeworth, sir!”
Miles dragged a hand down his face, padding over to the door in long strides. He opened it, shooting Detective Gumshoe a tired frown. “Documents?”
“Huh?” Gumshoe looked perplexed before he brightened. “Oh, yeah!” He offered them to the prosecutor. “The ones you asked for yesterday.”
“Fantastic,” Miles replied dryly. He tossed them to the loveseat haphazardly. Something different, his mind reminded him.
Gumshoe looked almost frightened at the carelessness the prosecutor showed. “Uh… you all right, sir? You should--”
“--really take a vacation sometime?”
Gumshoe blinked his big eyes. “Uh. Yeah.”
Miles leaned against the wall, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He was showing his vexation quite openly, but he didn’t have the heart to care right now. Gumshoe would just forget it by tomorrow, anyway.
“...Mister Edgeworth?”
Miles opened his eyes. “Gumshoe. I want to tell you something.” He wondered if telling the detective would go over any differently than when he told Wright and Maya.
“Wh-what’s that, sir?”
“I know it’s going to sound insane,” he fixed Gumshoe with a sincere gaze, one he only reserved for instances as important as these, “but… there is something wrong with the universe.”
“...Sir?”
“I lived today yesterday. And the day before,” Miles clarified, though Gumshoe looked only further bemused.
“You just need to believe me. I… I don’t know how I can get out of this.” Miles bit into his lip, hating how much weakness he’d shown to his colleagues in the past few days (or past day?), rubbing at his arm. “I’m frightened.”
Gumshoe looked unconventionally serious then. “Sir… I believe you. I want to help you. B-but… I don’t know how.”
“Wright didn’t, either.”
“You told him?”
“In yesterday’s loop. Today, he doesn’t know yet.”
Gumshoe was astonished, his wide eyes betraying any coolness he’d earlier shown. “What… exactly happened yesterday?”
Miles shrugged. “Nothing special. I told him and Maya Fey. They told me to try changing my schedule. I made it different than the original day," Miles explained. “It didn’t help, though, clearly. I am still here.” He looked up in thought. “I believe there is something serious that I need to do, something important that will break the loop and set the world right.”
Gumshoe shifted on his feet, scratching his neck. “It… it sounds crazy, sir,” he offered, to which Miles sent him a sharp expression, “b-but I completely believe you. I think we should go to Wright. He has an interesting way of thinking. Maybe if you tell him what happened in yesterday’s loop, he can help you think of a way to fix it.”
Miles had already considered telling Wright again. He nodded, relieved to have genuine people on his side who would believe him, no matter how unbelievable this predicament was.
They headed to the courthouse immediately.
----
Miles explained everything to Wright and Maya once again. Things went similarly. After some coaxing and staring at the prosecutor like he was a maniac, they bought his story and agreed to help however they could.
They moved things to a local cafe just down the street to discuss everything in more depth.
“So, you’re on day three now, right?” Wright made sure.
Miles nodded, sipping on the green tea he’d ordered. “That’s correct.”
“And you don’t know what’s causing it?” Maya asked with furrowed brows.
Miles slumped his shoulders, sighing as the heat of his tea slithered down his throat. That calmed his nerves, if only a little. “I’ve no idea. I don’t know why I’m being punished in such a… creative way.”
Gumshoe laughed restlessly, bumping shoulders with Miles from where he sat next to him in the booth. “Hey, there’s a bright side, right? You can fix all of your mistakes with this.”
Miles scowled at him. “The only mistake is me getting stuck in this loop. And even if I fixed mistakes made on this day, I’d never be able to advance to the next, so what exactly is the point?”
Gumshoe wilted. “That’s true…”
Wright had folded his hands in front of him, coffee untouched, fixing the prosecutor with a meaningful stare. “Edgeworth, I know it must have been a pain so far, but let’s try our best to get you out of this,” he began encouragingly. “And I want you to know that no matter how many times it happens… I’ll always believe you.”
Miles snorted. “I know.”
Wright’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Miles smiled bitterly. “You told me that yesterday.”
Wright shrunk back. “Oh.”
“Let’s use what we’ve learned from pop culture,” Maya suggested in a more upbeat tone, “the obvious choice is to do something major that will change the course of your life. If you figure out what that is, maybe the loop will stop.”
Miles had considered that himself, though he had no idea where to start. “I just haven’t a clue what that could be, though.”
Maya narrowed her eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”
Miles was stunned by the way she’d suspiciously addressed him. “And why is that?”
“Because everyone has secrets,” she shrugged, taking a sip through the straw of the orange juice she’d ordered. “Everyone has demons, too. Stuff they don’t wanna face. If you face that, you might be able to break the loop.”
Everyone at the table stared at Maya. Maya looked around, throwing her hands in the air. “What?! I can be insightful!”
Wright laughed softly. Miles ignored the way his hairs stood on end at the sound.
“You’ve got a point, Maya,” he agreed. “Miles, do you have any idea what that could be? There must be something. I… I know it’ll be hard to face, but… it might be the key out of this mess.”
Miles frowned down at his teacup, fingers fidgeting around it. There was only one thing that he could think of: the feelings he’d been having on the original day, the overwhelming yearning and admiration for…
His eyes unconsciously flitted up to meet Wright’s. Wright stared back fretfully.
Lowering his head, Miles coughed quietly. No. This was far too humiliating. There had to be something else. Anything.
He’d try anything else before confessing to Wright.
“I… may have to think harder on that,” Miles churned out. “I will ponder the possibilities a little longer.” He controlled his expression to a neutral, but thankful one, nodding at the other three. “Thank you all for your help with this. It is nice to tell someone about it.”
Wright smiled dejectedly. “Hopefully you won’t have to tell us again.”
----
They went their separate ways outside. The sun was setting and the temperature had cooled to a comfortable seventy-five. The humidity had lessened, making for the perfect summer night.
Gumshoe offered Maya and Wright a ride home. Wright waved Maya along, but told the detective he’d stay behind. Miles tried not to let the surprise show on his face.
Once alone together, Wright smiled optimistically at his friend, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue trousers. “Let’s take a walk?”
Miles was certainly not going to deny. He nodded wordlessly, falling into step with the defense attorney as they headed down the city sidewalk.
“This is so crazy,” Wright murmured, staring at the ground while they sauntered. “I can’t believe something like this is even possible.”
“Neither can I.” Miles could, though. The reality of it all was wearing on him already.
“I… hope it breaks. Maybe there’s an end point. Like, you only do it for a week, or a month--”
“Or a year?” Miles lips quirked up sourly. Wright winced.
“It is a scary thought,” he mused, arms folded as they walked. “to think about how long I might be stuck in this.”
He could feel Wright’s gaze study him in his peripheral, could practically feel the worry emanating from him.
“Miles… is there any way I can make it easier for you?”
Miles turned to him and stopped walking. Wright followed suit. “What do you mean?”
“Like… can we make a code somehow? You can tell me something that only I know so you can prove it to us faster, assuming you get locked in the loop again tomorrow.” His cheeks reddened as his gaze fell to the sidewalk, toeing at it. “I’d rather not have to hear the Dahlia story over and over, even if I forget it the next day.”
At that, Miles laughed genuinely. “I see. I suppose I can understand that.”
Wright grinned at him. “Then,” he started, eyes turned up in consideration, “oh, just tell me that tomorrow I’m visiting my mom. There’s no way you’d know that unless I told you.”
Miles nodded. “Any specifics?”
“Tell me that we’re going to Long Beach together. That should be enough to convince me.”
Miles searched the attorney’s eyes, offering a grateful, but distressed, smile. “Thank you, Wright. Really.”
Wright smiled back, and the hope in his eyes was enough to give Miles some of his own. “No problem, Edgeworth.”
----
“Are you stalking me or something?!”
Miles face-palmed, feeling the weight of his frown as his muscles tensed. Wright, you damned idiot…
“This is what you told me to tell you to prove it.”
Flabbergasted, Wright shook his head. “You couldn’t know that, though! H-how--”
Miles turned on a heel and walked away. He was going to try to do the fourth day without the help of Wright--or anyone else, for that matter.