Work Text:
The morning started slow, just as all of Phoenix’s bad days do.
He was drifting in and out of sleep, pressed against his lover, the warmth radiating between them. He could feel the rise and fall of Miles’ chest, a steady reminder that they were both alive and breathing and here. The slight beat of Miles’ heart against his left shoulder brought more comfort than he knew how to explain.
Eventually, Miles stirred, a quiet groan escaping his lips as his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. Phoenix allowed himself to fully wake up now that his husband was awake. “G’morning,” he yawned, flipping his position to make eye contact with Miles, who grinned softly at the sight of his lover.
“Good morning, love,” he replied, his voice steady in a way that should be impossible for someone who just woke up, but Phoenix pushed that thought away as he relished in the warmth that spread throughout his chest, all caused by the voice of his best friend. “I am going to put on some coffee, and warm up the kettle,” Miles announced after lying silently for a few moments. Phoenix knew he didn’t like to lay in bed for long, preferring to start the day sooner rather than later.
Phoenix followed suit, stopping in the bathroom while Miles made his way into the kitchen. Phoenix lingered in the bathroom longer than he needed to, staring at the purple-blue circles under his eyes and the way his pupils were slightly blown. He knew Miles would still be in the kitchen when he came out. He always was. Somehow, that certainty made it easier to breathe. He decided not to think too hard about it, doing his business before he joined Miles in the kitchen. He walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist, swaying the both of them gently. He felt Miles chuckle at the gesture, causing a smile to spread across his own face. It was silent, the place nearly sacred, before Miles spoke up. “You slept poorly,” he said as he began to prepare their drinks, a coffee for Phoenix and a tea for himself.
Phoenix stilled, waiting for a moment before he simply shrugged. “I’m fine.” Nothing more, nothing less. At least, he thought.
Miles removed himself from his husband's grip, turning around to face him while still holding his hands. He studied his face for longer than necessary before responding. “...If you’re certain,” he replied as he finished their drinks, swiftly handing Phoenix the warm mug, one that Trucy had bought him for Father’s Day the year prior.
Before either of them could say anything else, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sight of Trucy stumbling into the kitchen. Her hair had been hastily tied back into a ponytail, and Phoenix couldn't help but notice she'd somehow managed to put on two completely different socks.
"Morning!" she greeted, her voice still thick with sleep despite the grin on her face.
Phoenix let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. "You know, most people say good morning before they try to scare their parents to death."
"Where's the fun in that?" she shot back without missing a beat.
Miles had already reached for another mug before she'd even spoken, pouring hot chocolate into it and sliding it across the counter toward her. "I assumed coffee was still off the table."
"You assume correctly," Trucy replied with a smile, wrapping both hands around the warm mug as if it were the only thing keeping her awake.
The three of them stood together in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds coming from the kettle settling on the stove and Trucy's occasional contented hum as she sipped her drink. It was the kind of quiet Phoenix had grown to cherish, the kind that never felt empty. "So," he began, resting his elbows against the counter, "any big plans today?"
"Mhm." She nodded enthusiastically. "I've got magic rehearsal this morning, then I’m hanging out with Apollo and Athena for a while, then Maya and Pearl want me to show them some magic tricks!" Her eyes flicked between Phoenix and Miles, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Which means you two have the house all to yourselves."
Phoenix met Miles' gaze for only a second before looking away again, the corners of his mouth curling into an involuntary smile.
"Oh, don't look so excited," Trucy teased, pointing dramatically at the two of them with her mug. "I know that look."
Phoenix nearly inhaled his coffee. "Trucy!"
"Your observational skills continue to improve," Miles replied evenly.
"Miles!"
Trucy dissolved into laughter as Phoenix buried his face in his hands, groaning dramatically. "Oh, relax," she teased. "I'm gonna go get ready before you two start making heart eyes at each other again."
"I do not-” Phoenix began to argue.
"You absolutely do,” both Trucy and Miles interjected at the same time, eliciting giggles from the girl.
Before Phoenix could defend himself any further, Trucy disappeared down the hallway, her laughter echoing through the apartment as she made her way back to her room. Phoenix let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "She's impossible."
Miles took another sip of his tea, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl into a smile. "She is remarkably perceptive."
"I think that's your fault.”
"I was under the impression she inherited it from you."
Phoenix snorted. "Now that's funny."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The apartment settled back into its familiar morning rhythm, filled only with the quiet clink of ceramic mugs and the distant sounds of Trucy moving around her room. Phoenix leaned against the counter, content to simply exist beside Miles.
Then Miles' phone rang.
The sharp vibration against the countertop shattered the calm. Miles frowned, setting his teacup aside before glancing at the screen. "...Edgeworth."
Phoenix watched as his husband's expression shifted almost instantly.
"...I see."
A pause. "No, that's quite all right."
Another pause. "I'll be there shortly."
The call ended.
Phoenix's stomach sank before a single explanation had been given. "...Work?"
Miles let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly. "I'm afraid so. One of the prosecutors called in ill just before trial. They've asked me to take the case."
Phoenix frowned. "On your day off?"
"Unfortunately."
The words lingered in the air, neither of them speaking for a moment. The silence that settled between them was thick and bordering uncomfortable. Miles studied Phoenix before he tentatively spoke. “I don’t have to go,” he suggested. When Phoenix looked up, he could see the worry written on Miles’ face, the way his eyes held an air of hesitation. He could see Miles’ willingness to stay if Phoenix said so.
And for a split second, Phoenix wanted to. The feeling bloomed in his chest, sudden and irrational, all warning lights screaming don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave.
He swallowed harshly. "No," he said with a smile that felt convincing enough. "It's okay. I'll survive one day without you."
Miles searched his face. "...Are you certain?"
"Yeah."
Another beat.
"...I'll only be a few hours,” Miles assured, slowly pulling away from his lover.
"I know,” Phoenix replied shortly, his brain already working faster than he could truly comprehend.
"I'm sorry," Miles said quietly, reaching out to rest a hand against Phoenix's cheek. His thumb brushed gently beneath Phoenix's eye, lingering there for only a moment before he leaned in to press a soft kiss against his forehead. "I'll be home before you know it."
Phoenix smiled, willing it to look more convincing than it felt. "I know."
Miles studied him for another moment, as if debating whether to say something more, before giving a small nod. "If you need anything, call me."
"I will." It wasn't exactly a lie.
Miles gathered his briefcase from beside the front door just as Trucy reappeared, now fully dressed and slinging her bag over one shoulder. She glanced between the two of them, her expression briefly puzzled by the sudden change in plans.
"Called into work?" she asked.
Miles sighed. "Unfortunately."
"That's lame."
"I quite agree."
She walked over to Phoenix first, wrapping him in a quick hug before doing the same with Miles. "I'll probably be back for a little while before I head over to Pearl's," she said as she adjusted the strap of her bag. "I forgot to pack half my magic stuff."
Phoenix chuckled softly. "Wouldn't be a Trucy performance if you remembered everything the first time."
"Exactly!" She flashed him one last grin before reaching for the doorknob. "Love you!"
"Love you too," Phoenix and Miles answered together. The front door clicked shut behind them, and for a long moment, Phoenix simply stood there, staring at the place where they had disappeared.
Then the apartment fell quiet.
Not silent- never silent. The refrigerator continued its familiar hum, the clock above the stove ticked away just like any other ordinary morning, and somewhere outside, a dog barked at nothing in particular. Life carried on exactly as it always did.
It just felt... different.
Phoenix exhaled slowly, carrying his coffee into the living room before settling onto the couch. The warmth of the mug seeped into his hands, but it didn't quite reach the rest of him. He turned the television on more out of habit than genuine interest, letting whatever morning program happened to be playing fill the room with enough noise to keep the quiet from settling too deeply.
He watched it for nearly twenty minutes before realizing he couldn't remember a single thing that had been said.
His gaze drifted toward his phone resting on the coffee table.
Miles had only just left. Hell, he was probably still driving.
Phoenix reached for the device anyway, unlocking it without thinking. Their conversation from the day prior filled his screen, ending with nothing more than a string of ordinary messages as they both left their respective workplaces. His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a second before he locked the screen again and set the phone back down.
Don't. He's working.
He leaned back against the couch, forcing himself to focus on the television again.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
The apartment somehow felt larger than it had an hour ago. He checked his phone again, his notification screen still void of any messages from Miles. He tried to ignore the nausea that bubbled in his stomach and the thoughts that felt like they were filling his entire being.
Phoenix threw his phone on the other side of the couch and quickly stood up, moving into the kitchen to clean up the remnants of what had started out as a good morning. He scrubbed the chocolate ring lining Trucy’s cup for far longer than he should have, the piece of porcelain so clean that it began to squeak. He emptied the tea kettle and dumped the remainder of Miles’ tea, dread pooling in his stomach once more as he thought of his husband.
Before he fully realized where he was going, he was back in the living room, retrieving his phone from the couch. He was once again met with a blank screen. He sighed and threw it down on the coffee table harder than he intended to. Phoenix leaned back against the couch, his attention returning to the television, though the voices coming from it all blended together into meaningless background noise. A laugh track echoed through the room, followed by applause, but he couldn't have told anyone what had been said to earn either.
His gaze wandered back toward the phone.
Stop.
Miles had been gone for less than an hour. He was working. Phoenix knew that better than anyone. Prosecutors didn't exactly have the luxury of checking their phones in the middle of court, and even if Miles had managed to sneak a glance at it, answering would have been impossible.
He knew that.
He really did.
So why did the apartment suddenly feel so unbearably empty?
Phoenix stood once more, convincing himself that moving around would help. He wandered aimlessly through the apartment, straightening picture frames that weren't crooked, folding the throw blanket draped over the couch despite having already folded it earlier that morning, wiping down the kitchen counters for a second time simply because he couldn't think of anything else to do with his hands. Every task lasted only a few moments before his thoughts drifted elsewhere, each one ending the same way.
He found himself looking toward the living room.
Toward his phone.
When he finally gave in and picked it up again, he didn't even remember making the decision to do so.
Their conversation was still open, and his fingers began to move before he even knew what he wanted to say.
Phoenix: busy?
He immediately deleted it.
Phoenix: can you call for a sec?
Definitely not. Phoenix sighed as he rubbed a hand across his face. Somewhere, distantly, he knew that this was an episode. They had gotten better, less frequent, since he was first diagnosed with borderline nearly 8 years ago, near the beginning of his disbarment. However, the knowledge was too distant for him to catch before it progressed.
Phoenix: don’t answer if you’re busy.
Simple. Harmless enough. Anyone would read that and probably think nothing of it. Yet, Phoenix tried to ignore the way his chest burned and his mind flooded with please answer.
He sent the message before he thought any more about it, watching the screen and praying for a reply. A few seconds went by with no change, and Phoenix had to remind himself that Miles was in the courtroom, it is incredibly unlikely that he would answer.
He repeated those words over and over again, as the minutes climbed. Five, then ten, then fifteen, then Phoenix couldn’t take it any more and his hands began to shake as his mind raced with he would’ve answered if he could wanted to, he’s going to leave me, he hates me, how do I make him stay? He’s the worst person I’ve ever met. He never loved me.
Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut.
No. Miles loved him.
Miles had kissed his forehead before he left. Miles had offered to stay. Miles wasn't leaving.
His breathing caught.
...He left once. You know this feeling, You’ve felt it before, when you read those five words on that impossibly small piece of paper.
Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut. No. He came back. They got married. Miles stayed.
Until he doesn't.
His breathing quickened.
He left once.
"He had a reason,” Phoenix pleaded to no one.
People always have reasons.
His fingers moved before he even realized they were doing so.
Phoenix: did i do something?
Phoenix: you have to tell me if idid
Phoenix: you know that i dont just know these things you have to tell me
Phoenix: sorry ignoe that
Minutes passed with no reply and the pit in Phoenix’s stomach only grew, wider and deeper in every direction possible.
He doesn’t even care enough to tell you everything’s fine. To lie to you. He’s done. Finally tired of you.
Phoenix’s vision blurred, making the letters impossible to read.
Phoenix: if you want a divorce just fucking tell me you asshole.
The conversation remained unchanged. No typing bubble, no reply.
Phoenix stared at the screen until he could hardly make out the words, his thumb hovering uselessly over the keyboard. An increasingly small, somewhat rational part of him told himself to put the phone down. To wait. To trust that Miles was exactly where he said he would be.
Instead, he found himself typing nonsense words once more.
Phoenix: Stop ignoring me.
He hit send before he could think better of it. The message was delivered almost immediately, disappearing in the sea of messages he had already sent. But… still nothing.
His chest tightened painfully.
He's in court, he reminded himself. He's working. He told you he was working.
The reassurance lasted only a moment before that same thought forced its way to the surface.
If he wanted to answer, he would.
Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as though he could physically throw the thought from his mind. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Miles had kissed him goodbye less than an hour ago. He had offered to stay. He had promised he would be home before the day was over. So why did it feel like he was watching it happen all over again?
His fingers moved faster than his mind could keep up.
Phoenix: I'm not stupid.
Another message.
Phoenix: I know what this is.
Send.
The room suddenly felt too small. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs, loud enough that he could hear it in his ears, each pulse feeding the panic growing inside him. Every attempt to reason with himself was drowned out by the same thought, repeating over and over until it became impossible to separate from reality.
He's leaving.
The words echoed through his mind with a forceful certainty.
He's leaving. Just like before.
Just like the letter folded neatly on his desk.
Just like standing alone in his office years ago, staring at a single page of paper and wondering how the person he trusted most had managed to disappear without saying goodbye.
The phone slipped from his hand onto the couch.
He couldn't breathe. His chest was heaving impossibly slow but far too quickly at the same time. He curled in on himself, forehead against his knees.
"I hate you," he whispered. The words tasted wrong. "I hate you."
Another sob.
"...Don't leave me."
—
The apartment had long since fallen quiet.
Phoenix wasn't sure how much time had passed. Minutes. Maybe an hour. He couldn't bring himself to look at the clock. Every second felt the same, stretched unbearably thin beneath the weight in his chest.
The sound of a key turning in the front door barely registered. He heard it, he simply couldn't bring himself to care.
"Daddy?" Trucy's voice carried easily through the apartment. "I’m back for my-"
Her sentence died almost as quickly as it had begun.
Phoenix didn't move. He heard hurried footsteps crossing the hardwood floor before stopping abruptly at the entrance to the living room.
"...Daddy?" There was no teasing in her voice now. Only confusion and concern. Emotions that should not be filling a daughter’s tone when talking to her father.
Phoenix lifted his head just enough to see her standing a few feet away, one hand still wrapped around the strap of her bag. Her eyes darted between him and the phone lying forgotten on the couch cushions before settling back on his face, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Trucy was the first to break the silence, tentatively stepping closer to him. She’d seen Phoenix like this before, but it had been a long, long time. “...Daddy?” She whispered again. Phoenix looked away from her, causing worry to bubble in her chest.
She sat her bag down without taking her eyes off of him and closed the gap between them carefully, as if she were approaching a scared animal. When she reached the worn down couch, she lowered herself onto the cushion beside him, leaving enough space so that he wouldn’t feel trapped. “What happened?” She asked quietly.
Phoenix swallowed hard. “Nothing,” he lied automatically. Trucy’s eyes flickered down toward Phoenix’s discarded phone, the screen showing a litany of messages from her Daddy, all to Papa. Her eyes widened as she went to pick up the device. Phoenix noticed her movement and snatched the phone out of reach harder than he had intended, his grip on it turning his knuckles white.
“Don’t.”
The words came out sharp, a double-edged sword of sound escaping his lips. All Phoenix could do was stare at her before he brokenly spoke up. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, “I didn’t mean-” he trailed off halfway through his sentence as he eyed the device. Still nothing; no typing bubble, no missed call, no response.
His chest tightened all over again. He clutched the device against himself, his hands beginning to shake from the pure force at which he was holding it. Every few seconds, he would power it on again to check if he had responded.
“What happened?” Trucy asked again, essentially pleading for any kind of information. For a long moment, all Phoenix could do was stare at the phone. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, barely audible.
“He left.”
The words made her stomach drop.
“Papa?” She asked, both confused and worried out of her mind.
Phoenix nodded once. “He left.”
Trucy shook her head gently. “No, daddy,” she spoke carefully. “He got called into work.”
“That’s what he said,” Phoenix replied, accusation filling his tone. Not anger, but certainty. That is what scared Trucy the most. He sounded so sure of it. “He said he’d be back,” he continued as he let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if the girl had missed something obvious. “They always say they’ll come back. He said he would only be gone for a few hours. He kissed me goodbye,” his voice caught. “He offered to stay.”
For a split second, Trucy thought she had reached him. Then he looked up and quietly said, “And then he left anyway.”
The sentence settled over the room with a weight that was nearly unbearable. Trucy searched his face desperately, looking for the part of her father that always came back when she reminded him of the facts, the part that could smile sheepishly and admit he'd gotten carried away. Instead she found someone whose mind had already rewritten the morning into something unrecognizable. “He loved you,” she said gently.
“I know he used to,” Phoenix replied, his expression crumpling. The words were so quiet that Trucy almost wished she hadn’t heard them at all. She shook her head immediately. “No, Daddy. Listen to me,” she began, moving to where she was the only thing in his line of sight. “Papa loves you. He told you this morning-”
“He lied,” Phoenix interjected.
Trucy gasped at his words. “No.”
“He lied,” he repeated once more.
“Trucy shook her head, “he wouldn’t. Papa wouldn’t do that.”
“He did,” he yelled, his voice rising just enough to make her flinch. “He said he was coming back. I don’t even fucking want him to. I hate him,” Phoenix spat.
The words echoed through the oversized house, hanging in the silence long after he’d said them
Neither of them believed them, not really.
His breathing had become ragged, every inhale catching somewhere in his chest before it could reach his lungs. His hands trembled violently around the phone, his thumb pressing against the power button again and again until the screen lit up, only to show the same conversation waiting exactly as he'd left it.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
"...Why won't he answer?" he whispered. The anger vanished as quickly as it had come, collapsing beneath the weight of something much smaller.
Trucy's heart broke. "Daddy..." She reached for him again, slower this time, giving him every opportunity to pull away.
He did.
Phoenix stood so abruptly that he stumbled back a step, putting the coffee table between them as though it were enough to keep the ache in his chest from swallowing him whole. "Don't," his voice shook. "Please don't."
"I'm just trying to help."
"I don't want your help." The words left his mouth before he could stop them and the hurt that flickered across Trucy's face was immediate. Phoenix saw it and he hated himself for it. But the guilt barely had time to settle before the panic buried it again, hot and bubbling in his chest. "I..." He scrubbed a hand across his face, shaking his head hard enough that his hair fell into his eyes. "I just..." his voice cracked with tears, both shed and unshed.
"I need him." There it was again. The same sentence, the same plea. Everything came back to Miles. It always did. Mere moments ago he was saying he hated him, that he didn’t want him. But now, he stood, begging for his husband to come back. Phoenix recognized the swing, it was exhausting. He was so, so tired.
Trucy stood carefully, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. "Daddy, I'm here."
"I know, Truce,” his answer came almost immediately. "But you're not him,” he whispered. The words weren't cruel. If anything, they sounded apologetic, like something he hated to admit. Something he wished was not true.
"I need him."
His breathing grew faster again as he looked frantically between the front door and the phone in his hand, as though he couldn't decide which one to watch first. "He should be here. He said he would be here. He said he'd come back. Why isn’t he here?” Phoenix rambled faster than he or Trucy could fully comprehend. Each question tumbled into the next before she had any chance to answer.
"He left me."
"No, Daddy—"
"He left me." His voice broke completely. "He left me." The sentence repeated over and over until it barely sounded like words anymore.
Trucy realized then that he wasn't talking to her, not really. He wasn't seeing the apartment around him, or the afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, or even his daughter standing only a few feet away. He was somewhere else. Somewhere years in the past, standing in an empty office with a letter in his hands and no idea whether the person he loved was ever coming back.
Trucy was always able to brighten up a room, to make someone laugh, to dry the tears of another. But for the first time in her life, she truly didn't know what to say. Every reassurance dissolved before it reached him. Every attempt to ground him only seemed to push him further into whatever memory had taken hold of him. Slowly, while Phoenix paced the room with his back turned, she slipped her own phone from her pocket.
Her fingers trembled as she opened her conversation with Miles.
Truce: Papa.
She hesitated only long enough to wipe at her eyes.
Truce: Please come home.
Truce: Daddy needs you.
Truce: I can't reach him anymore.
—
“The prosecution rests, your honor.”
Miles’ voice carried through the courtroom with the same calm precision it always had. He returned to the counsel’s bench without another word, folding his hands neatly in front of him as the defense began its closing argument. Around him, the courtroom settled into attentive silence, every eye fixed on the attorney now pacing before the bench.
Miles heard almost none of it.
Not because he wasn't paying attention, as years of experience had made listening almost instinctive, but because, beneath the polished routine of the trial, something had been bothering him since he'd walked out of the house that morning.
Phoenix had smiled.
Too easily.
It had been the sort of smile Miles had learned to recognize over the years, one that reached his mouth but never quite managed to reach his eyes.
He had almost stayed, the thought returned, uninvited. He should have.
No, he couldn’t have known anything would happen.
The judge's voice pulled him back to the present as the proceedings finally came to a close. A verdict date was scheduled, a few final formalities were exchanged, and before long the courtroom began to empty, attorneys gathering files while the quiet hum of conversation returned.
One of the younger prosecutors fell into step beside him as they exited. "Sorry again about today, Chief Prosecutor. I know this wasn't exactly how you planned to spend your day off."
Miles offered the man a polite nod. "These things happen."
The prosecutor chuckled sheepishly before disappearing down the hallway toward another courtroom. Only once Miles was alone did he finally reach into his pocket for his phone.
The screen lit up, and he immediately stopped in his tracks.
Twenty-three missed notifications.
His stomach dropped.
All but four of them sat beneath Phoenix's name.
He opened the conversation without another thought.
The first message was harmless, a simple check in.
Phoenix: don't answer if you're busy.
Then,
did i do something?
you have to tell me if i did
sorry ignore that
His heartbeat quickened as he kept scrolling.
if you want a divorce just fucking tell me you asshole.
Miles went completely still.
His face drained of color as more messages filled the screen.
Stop ignoring me.
I'm not stupid.
I know what this is.
“Oh, Phoenix…” he whispered. He noticed another set of notifications beneath the myriad from his husband
Trucy.
He opened it immediately.
Truce: Papa.
Please come home.
Daddy needs you.
I can’t reach him anymore.
For one suspended moment, the courthouse hallway seemed to disappear around him, everything around him, all of it dissolved into meaningless noise.
There had been episodes before, but not like this.
Not in years.
Miles closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to the morning, guilt crashing into him with a startling force. He had known, he had seen the bags that rested beneath Phoenix’s eyes. He had offered to stay, but Phoenix assured him he was okay. He left anyway.
By the time his eyes opened again, he was already moving. He didn’t even remember leaving the courthouse. One moment he was standing in the hallway, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand, and the next he was striding across the parking lot with hurried, uneven steps that bordered on a run. He fumbled for his keys, nearly dropping them before finally unlocking the car. The engine rumbled to life, but before pulling out of the parking space, he tapped Phoenix's name.
The phone rang. Once, twice, three times, then voicemail. Miles hung up before it could finish and called again. No answer. His grip tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles paled beneath his gloves.
"Come on..." The plea was barely audible.
He tried Trucy instead. She answered almost immediately.
"...Papa?"
The relief in her voice was overshadowed by something else. She sounded frightened.
"I'm on my way," Miles said without preamble. "Is he all right?"
There was a pause. "I... I don't know."
His heart sank.
"He won't talk to me anymore." Her voice trembled despite her obvious efforts to keep it steady. "He keeps saying you left him."
Miles closed his eyes for the briefest moment as the words settled over him. "I'm sorry."
"No." Trucy sniffled quietly. "Don't apologize."
"I should have recognized it."
"You couldn't have." Another silence, then: "I tried everything." Trucy sounded so worried and it broke nearly every part of Miles, who used to be impenetrable.
"I know you did."
"I couldn't-" Her voice cracked. "I couldn't get him to listen."
Miles swallowed hard. "You did all of the right things, Trucy,” he promised her. Traffic slowed ahead of him, forcing the car to a stop at a red light. It had never seemed so impossibly bright. "I'm about ten minutes away," he said, forcing calm back into his voice. "Can you tell me where he is?"
"He's still in the living room." A shaky exhale. "He's pacing."
Miles pictured it immediately, the phone clutched in white-knuckled hands, the endless circles around the coffee table, checking the screen every few seconds, waiting for a message that should have come hours ago.
"I've never seen him like this," Trucy whispered.
Miles looked down briefly at the stream of messages still open on his phone. If you want a divorce just fucking tell me. Stop ignoring me. I hate you. The words hurt. Not because he believed them. Because he knew Phoenix did. At least right now.
The traffic light finally turned green. Miles pressed down on the accelerator.
"I'm coming home. I’ll be there soon, Truce. Promise,” he assured, going far above the speed limit.
—
The front door opened with a quiet click.
For a single heartbeat, everything stopped.
Phoenix's pacing halted mid-step. The phone nearly slipped from his trembling hands as his eyes snapped toward the entryway.
Miles stood frozen in the doorway, his briefcase still hanging from one shoulder, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he'd done it in the car. His gaze swept across the apartment in an instant, taking in every detail at once: Trucy standing several feet away with tears staining her cheeks, the coffee table pushed slightly out of place, Phoenix's shaking hands, the phone clutched so tightly it looked as though it might crack beneath the pressure.
His chest tightened. He had been too late. Phoenix’s world had fallen apart before he even had the chance to realize.
None of them spoke.
It was Miles who finally broke the silence.
"I'm home."
The words settled heavily between them. Phoenix simply stared at Miles, and for the briefest moment, something flickered across his face. Relief? Hope? Maybe disbelief. But it was gone as soon as it appeared.
“You came back,” he acknowledged, his voice hollow and empty.
“I told you I would,” Miles replied as he got rid of his briefcase, hanging it on the coat rack by the door before taking a tentative step toward his husband. A bitter laugh escaped Phoenix before he could stop it.
“No,” he shook his head. “You only came back because she called,” he pointed at Trucy. “If she hadn’t…” his voice cracked. “You wouldn’t have.”
Miles didn’t answer immediately as he tried to calm the emotions swirling in his own chest. He knew better than to argue with fear while it still believed itself. He took another step forward, and Phoenix immediately took one back. The movement was instinctive, something Phoenix didn’t realize he did. “I’m not going anywhere,” Miles said softly, stopping in his tracks.
"You already did." The response came so quickly it was almost automatic. Silence settled over the room again.
Miles watched as Phoenix's breathing grew more uneven, every rise and fall of his chest becoming shorter than the last. His eyes never stayed in one place for long, darting between Miles, the front door, and the phone still clutched in his hands, as though he were trying to convince himself that what stood in front of him couldn't possibly be real.
"You lied to me," Phoenix spat. The accusation was barely louder than a whisper.
"I did not."
"You said you'd come back."
"I did."
"You left."
"I went to work."
"You left."
Miles let the words hang in the air. He could hear the difference. Phoenix wasn't arguing about where he'd gone. He was arguing about what it had meant.
"I know that's what it felt like."
Phoenix laughed again, harsher this time. "You don't know what this feels like."
"No." Miles' answer was immediate. "I don't." He took another step, slow enough that Phoenix could move away if he chose. "I do know what it feels like to believe someone you love has abandoned you."
Phoenix's expression faltered, only for a second. It was enough.
"I would never choose to make you feel that way." Not again. The conviction in Miles' voice was quiet, but absolute.
Phoenix looked away. "You don't have to do this."
"Do what?"
"Feel guilty." His grip tightened around the phone, breathing hitching. "I get it. You don't love me anymore."
Miles' heart broke. He wanted nothing more than to cross the room, to wrap his arms around his husband and hold him until the panic finally released its grip. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, close enough that Phoenix could reach him, far enough that he wouldn't feel cornered. "I am here," Miles said softly.
"You had to be."
"I wanted to be."
"No." Phoenix shook his head harder. "You had to." His voice cracked beneath the weight of the words. "She called you." A tear rolled down his cheek. "You wouldn't have come back for me."
Behind them, Trucy felt her own eyes sting. She looked between the two men for a long moment before quietly wiping at her face. Without saying a word, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and took a slow step toward the hallway. Neither of them noticed, they couldn't. Phoenix's entire world had narrowed to the man standing a few feet in front of him, and Miles' had done the same. "I'm going to give you two some space," Trucy whispered, though she wasn't sure either of them heard her. She disappeared down the hallway as quietly as she'd arrived, leaving the apartment wrapped once again in silence.
Miles waited until the sound of her bedroom door closing drifted through the apartment before speaking again. "I came home because my husband needed me." Phoenix's breathing hitched. "You don't have to believe me right now," Miles said, his voice remaining steady. "I know you can't." He took another careful step, stopping only when another would have forced Phoenix to retreat again. "But I'm here. I will stay here for as long as you need me to."
Phoenix's shoulders trembled. The certainty that had consumed him all afternoon suddenly felt just a little less solid. Not gone, not even close, but no longer quite as impossible to question. For the first time since Miles had walked out the front door that morning, Phoenix wasn't looking at the empty space where he should have been. He was looking at the man himself.
Phoenix searched Miles’ face for something: hesitation, pity, guilt, anything that would prove the story his mind had been repeating for hours. He knew that expression. Miles had always been difficult to read, ever since they were kids, but after years together, Phoenix had learned the subtle shifts: the slight tightening around his eyes and furrow of his brow when he was worried, the way his jaw would tense whenever he forced himself to remain composed.
Now, all Phoenix could see was concern, and it only made his stomach twist harder. “You keep saying you’re here,” he said hoarsely. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Miles didn’t interrupt him, knowing it would escalate the situation further.
“You left.”
“I came back.”
“You left.”
“I did, technically.”
Phoenix blinked. The admission caught him off guard. Miles didn’t try to soften it, he didn’t try to sit there and pretend that he hadn’t walked out of the front door that morning. “I left for wor,” he said quietly. “I also came home.
“You came home because Trucy told you to.”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?” The question came out louder than Phoenix intended, years of old fears crashing into the present all at once.
“Because I got done with work, and I came home to my husband, who I love.”
Phoenix laughed, something hollow and bitter. Not mocking, but exhausted, “Don’t.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are.”
Miles watched a single tear slip down Phoenix’s face.
"You have to be."
"Why?"
"Because..." Phoenix's voice caught so violently he had to stop and try again. "Because if you loved me..."
His breathing became ragged again.
"...you would've answered."
The apartment fell silent. For the first time since walking through the front door, Miles finally understood. It had been so long since they’d had an episode this bad that he had nearly forgotten what was going on in Phoenix’s head. It had never been about the messages themselves. It had been about what the silence had become. To Phoenix, every unanswered minute had been another confirmation that he was no longer worth coming back to.
Miles reached slowly into the pocket of his suit jacket.. Phoenix stiffened.
"I'm not asking you to believe me," Miles said, carefully pulling out his phone. "I only want to show you something." He unlocked the screen without taking another step. The display lit up between them, dozens of notifications covering it. Every message Phoenix had sent, every missed call, Trucy's messages beneath them. Miles held the phone where Phoenix could see it but made no move to close the distance.
"I never saw them."
Phoenix stared, his mind refusing to process what he was looking at. "No." His voice was quietly, barely audible to the average person. But Miles always heard him. "You answered Trucy."
"I saw hers after court ended."
"No."
"I called you first."
"No." Phoenix shook his head so hard it almost hurt. "That's..." Impossible. Because if Miles hadn't ignored him, then what had the last several hours been?
His breathing became uneven again, but this time for a different reason. The certainty he'd been holding onto all afternoon shifted beneath his feet, just enough to crack. His knees suddenly felt weak.
"I..." The phone slipped from his hand, landing on the carpet with a dull thud neither of them acknowledged. Miles approached him slowly, once again allowing him time to pull away if desired. However, Phoenix hesitantly moved toward him, allowing himself to be embraced. His shoulders sagged and the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright for the last several hours finally gave way beneath him, leaving behind an exhaustion so profound that it settled into his bones. His thoughts no longer raced; every emotion that had felt impossibly loud only moments before seemed distant now, muffled beneath a growing haze of shame.
Miles lowered them onto the edge of the couch carefully, not holding onto Phoenix tight enough to make him feel trapped, but tight enough to let him know that he was there.
"I..." He swallowed, the word catching in his throat. "I remember saying those things."
Miles remained where he was for another moment before Phoenix pulled back just enough to look his husband in the eyes. Neither of them spoke. The silence felt different now. It wasn't peaceful. It was tired.
Phoenix rubbed at his face with both hands. "I knew something was wrong." His voice sounded raw. "I kept telling myself you were at work." A humorless laugh escaped him. "I knew it." He stared at the carpet. "And then I didn't."
Miles listened without interrupting.
"It felt..." Phoenix searched for the right word and came up empty. "It felt true." His fingers curled against his knees. "I couldn't find anything else."
Another long silence settled between them. Finally, Miles spoke. "I believe you."
Phoenix looked up.
"I don't believe what you said," Miles continued quietly. "I believe that, in that moment, you believed it."
Something in Phoenix's expression shifted, the tightness around his eyes loosening just enough.
"I sent you..." His voice cracked. "God."
"You did."
"I said I…" He couldn't bring himself to repeat the words.
"I know."
"I told Trucy..." His face crumpled.
Miles glanced toward the hallway where Trucy's bedroom door remained closed. "She's worried about you."
"I know." The answer came almost immediately. "I hurt her."
"No, she was simply worried."
Phoenix closed his eyes. "That's worse." Miles didn't argue or disagree. After another minute, he reached up and cupped Phoenix’s cheek. The touch was light, as to not overwhelm. He simply let it rest there, giving Phoenix every opportunity to pull away. He didn't. "I think," Miles said, "she'll be very glad to know you're here." That you’re back, out of the scary place you had created.
Phoenix let out a slow breath. "I should talk to her."
"When you're ready."
Another silence.
"I don't deserve either of you."
Miles sighed almost imperceptibly. "I've heard that sentence before."
Phoenix gave a weak, humorless smile. "I know."
"It wasn't true then." He met Phoenix's eyes. "It isn't true now." Phoenix didn't argue. He didn't agree, either. He simply leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, feeling the weight of the day settle over him.
"I'm tired."
"I know."
"I don't think I've ever been this tired."
Miles nodded once. "I'll make some tea."
Phoenix almost told him he didn't have to. Instead, he watched Miles stand and walk toward the kitchen, listening to the familiar sounds that followed: a cupboard opening, the kettle being filled, water running into the sink. Ordinary sounds. They carried through the apartment with a steadiness that had been absent since the morning.
A few moments later, another door opened. Trucy stood hesitantly at the end of the hallway. She looked first at Miles in the kitchen, then at Phoenix sitting quietly on the couch.
"...Daddy?"
Phoenix looked over. His eyes were still red. "Hi, Truce.”
She crossed the room without another word. This time, when she wrapped her arms around him, Phoenix didn't pull away. He buried his face against her shoulder, one hand coming up to rest carefully against the back of her head. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know." She held him a little tighter. Neither of them cried. Neither of them needed to. “You were scared. I’m not mad at you.”
That nearly broke Phoenix even more. “It would be okay if you were,” he whispered, pulling back from the hug.
“But I’m not. And Papa is here now, and we’re gonna make sure you’re okay, Daddy.”
The apartment settled into its familiar quiet once again, interrupted only by the whistle of the kettle from the kitchen. Miles turned off the burner, reached for three mugs instead of two, and carried them into the living room. No one spoke as he set them down. No one needed to. Miles wrapped his arm around Phoenix while Trucy settled between them, her night with Maya and Pearl long forgotten.
Things weren’t magically fixed. They had a lot to talk about, a lot to work through in the coming days. Phoenix was still scared, to an extent. But he could breathe slightly easier, and he could look Miles in the eyes and see a fierce loyalty, even if his brain tried to block it out.
And for the first time since Miles had walked out of the door, the silence no longer felt like something to survive. It was simply home.