professeurdeloi: (Angst)
[personal profile] professeurdeloi
“Miles?”
 
“… Wright? Fuck … do you know what time it is here?” Phoenix could picture him – sleepy, grey hair tousled, small lines deepening on his brow just like they always did when he was irritated. Two months ... but I wanted forever with you.
 
“This can’t wait”.
 
“Did something happen?”  Awake now. Worried.
 
“You could say that. They disbarred me.”
 
A second’s pause. “WHAT?”  Shock. Anger. “I’m coming back.”
 
“No.”
 
“What?”
 
“I don’t want you to.”
 
“Don’t be ridiculous, Phoenix. This whole situation is….”
 
“I presented forged evidence in court, Miles. You can’t fix this.”
 
“But not deliberately!”
 
“That’s what I said to you, once. But it didn’t make any difference then, either, did it?” Christ, I still sound bitter.
 
Silence. That hurt him.
 
“I’m coming back anyway. I want …I should come back. I’ll get a flight today.”
 
“No. I don’t want you to do that, either” Liar.
 
Slight pause. “Have you been drinking?”  Suspicion.
 
“Yes, but ... that’s not why I’m calling.”
 
“Then why are you calling? I’m not very good at these sorts of guessing games, Wright.”
 
 “I’m going away.” I just needed to hear your voice. Just once more.
 
“Away? What are you trying to say, Phoenix?”  Anxious.
 
“I’m saying I won’t be here. If you come back. I won’t be at the airport; I won’t be at my apartment. I won’t be here.” Eyes closed tight. Determined. I can do this.
 
No response. I know he’s there. I can hear him breathing.
 
“It’s over, Miles.”
 
“You’re obviously upset, but …”  Denial.
 
“I don’t want to discuss it, Miles. You have a life in Europe. You have to live it and leave me to live mine.” That was cruel.
 
“Is this about my work, again?” Annoyance? Weariness?
 
“No. Not you. It‘s about me. Just me. I have … things to take care of now. I don’t need any added … complications.” Words like ashes in my mouth.
 
“You’re serious, aren’t you, Wright?”  He knows.
 
Inhale. “Yes.”
 
“I am.” Coldly.
 
“I don’t know what to say to you, Phoenix.”
 
“Then don’t say anything. That’s usually how it is.”  Please hate me.
 
Silence again.
 
“Don’t try to find me. Please.” 
 
“Wright …”
 
“No.”
 
**click**
 
Phoenix couldn’t picture him, afterwards. Too much pain. No tears. Just emptiness and loss.
 
Then he remembered Klavier, looked at the small photograph of Trucy. I have things to take care of now.

(Originally written for the [profile] gyakuten100 community)
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June 2013

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