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At first, it started small.
Phoenix just…couldn't sleep with the lights off.
Phoenix knew it was stupid. Really, really stupid. He was an adult man, he could sleep with the goddamn lights off. But it was like a compulsion. He started struggling to sleep at night, jolting awake every few minutes to see if something was standing there, just out of the corner of his eye. For some reason, he always felt someone was watching him. Especially since his disbarment. While it was so long ago, that state of near constant paranoia seemed to be coming to a head. He kept drawing conclusions that weren't there, kept theorizing about stuff that couldn't happen. It was exhausting, and he was clearly losing sleep over it. But, Phoenix couldn't get over it. He felt as if someone was always standing in his room, watching him as he slept. So, Phoenix started to sleep with the lights on.
Of course, he wasn't made of money, so he couldnt realistically keep his lights on all night. Luckily, Trucy was just at that age where she didn't need a nightlight to sleep anymore, so Phoenix just simply took her nightlight and put it in his room. And when she asked, he merely said it was to remind him of when she was younger, and that he never actually keeps it on.
But he’s lying.
It got worse after that.
Phoenix felt his anxiety slowly start to get worse. Up until then, he never felt like an anxious person. He’s winged it at enough trials to know what sets off his anxiety, so it really shouldn't have been that big of an issue. But it kept getting worse. Phoenix was flinching at shadows, and doing double takes at practically everything.
In particular, there was the memorable night he heard Trucy scream.
“Phoenix…”
Phoenix was in a wheat field, the strands coming up to his waist. He jolts around, and sees Dahlia, standing there. She smiles.
“Feeny. Didn’t you miss me?”
Phoenix cant react. He feels something in his throat. He coughs, and blood spurts out. He stumbles, head dizzy, and he hears Dahlia laugh.
“I guess not.”
The wheat around him seems to writhe, to twist and turn. One second they are harmless strains of wheat, and the next they are clearly venomous snakes. Phoenix feels them bite him, feels them trying to get into his mouth and slide down his throat. He falls, overcome with them. He then feels Dahlia’s dainty hand on his chin.
“This is what you wanted, then?”
Phoenix then wakes up, and feels bereft, like he just missed something important.
He sat up, mind racing. He kept having these nightmares. And they were always weird nightmares on top of it. They weren't something standard, like being chased by a serial killer or something else drastic. They always had weirder and weirder layers to them, as if they were begging to be analyzed.
Phoenix didn't even want to begin to analyze the dream he just had.
He gets up, and stretches, his back aching from age. He notices Miles, sleeping soundly in the bed, his chest slowly rising and falling. Phoenix smiles at him, and does a routine check of the room that he’s started to get used to. First, the closet, then under the bed, then underneath his desk. As he does this, he hears Miles shift on the bed.
“What’re you doing?” He hears Miles mutter sleepily. Phoenix smiles and moves towards him.
“Nothing, nothing. Go back to sleep.” Phoenix puts his hands in Miles’ soft hair, and the other man hums. He turns over, and seems to take Phoenix’s advice, thankfully. Phoenix finishes his checking of the room, and once he’s secured their safety, he sighs, and makes his way out of his room. He passes by the clock on his stove in the kitchen. 5:32 am . Christ.
He is just starting to take the eggs out of the fridge for some pale imitation of breakfast when he hears Trucy scream.
Phoenix jolts, and immediately bursts into action. What was that? Who is hurting Trucy? A robber? Someone out for revenge? Phoenix has no idea. His vision blurs, his mind running into overdrive. His vision tilts and focuses on his knife rack. In the heat of pure unadulterated panic, he grabs one of the knives and heads to Trucy’s room . Anything could be in there, anyone. He rationalizes as he takes quick strides through his apartment. I have to be ready to fight. I have to be ready for anything!
He opens the door to Trucy’s room, knife raised.
What he sees makes him instantly calm. Although Trucy is crying, it appears that no one else is in the room. She’s not getting murdered or kidnapped, but it looks like she’s having a pretty bad nightmare. Phoenix sighs and puts the knife down onto a dresser table, immediately leaping forwards to comfort his daughter.
“Hey, hey, it's okay!” Phoenix half-whispers as he walks forward, kneeling by the bed and firmly nudging Trucy. “C’mon kid, wake up, it's just a dream.” Trucy stops wailing, but she’s still crying pretty hard. Phoenix can’t help but climb onto the bed and hug her, holding her close and getting her wet tears on his bed shirt. Thank god it was just a nightmare, Phoenix thinks, all of the adrenaline draining out of him. I was really worried that-
His inner thoughts are cut off by hearing footsteps in the hallway. Immediately he’s back on edge. Who is in his apartment? Miles is asleep, how did this person manage to get in? Phoenix suddenly regrets leaving the knife near the doorway. He tenses, ready for a fight-
Only to see that Miles is standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly ruffled from sleep. Phoenix relaxes, feeling ridiculous for overreacting like that, and Trucy finally stops crying. Stupid, how could you have thought it to be anyone other than Miles? are you really that dumb-
“Everything alright?” Miles says, in a soft low tone. Phoenix gives him a bitter smile.
“Peachy keen. Truce just had a nightmare, is all.”
“Sorry for screaming,” He hears Trucy mumble. Phoenix just holds her tighter.
“No problem, kiddo. I was awake anyway.” He responds. “Wanna talk about it?”
Trucy huffs out a sigh. “...No….”
“That's alright.” Phoenix pats her on her head. “Now, how about we-”
“What's this?” Miles interrupts. Phoenix turns back to him and he sees that Miles is holding the kitchen knife Phoenix put down earlier. “Did you have a knife in here, Trucy?”
“Oh, no, that was me.” Phoenix says with a sheepish laugh. He’s so embarrassed about freaking out earlier, now. “I just…I heard a scream so, I thought there was trouble.”
“Trouble.” Miles deadpans.
“Y-yeah, like…someone here with a knife or something.”
“Phoenix, don't be ridiculous.” Miles huffs. “As if you could even fight off any perpetrator.”
“Hey! I could fight someone off! I have been working out, you know.”
“You were that scared?” Trucy interrupts. Phoenix looks back at her, and he seriously does not want to be having this conversation.
“I was just worried, is all. Don't feel bad, I just…” Phoenix searches for a word. “Overreacted.”
“I’ll say.” Miles says, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose none of us are getting back to sleep. Breakfast?”
Both Wright’s nod, and the day continues as any other.
Only, Phoenix is on edge for the rest of the day.
The next thing that made it worse was the food thing.
Phoenix always had…issues with food, ever since he was a kid. He was a picky eater to begin with, and pulling late hours before a trial often left him going to bed without any dinner just so he could get an hour of sleep before facing off prosecutors in court. And after getting disbarred, since money was tight, he could barely afford to even feed Trucy, nevermind himself. All of the money for food went to her. Even now that he’s got his badge back and he’s got enough money, his mind still was in saving mode most of the time.
But it was getting better.
At least, until he started having these paranoid episodes.
He kept having nightmares about Dahlia. It had happened so long ago, he shouldn't have been freaking out about some girl he dated almost a decade prior now. But he couldn't stop thinking about that cold medicine, sitting on his kitchen counter. About the pieces of glass in his throat, the small and faded scar on his lip. The ghostly echoes of the sensations he felt back then seemed like they had just happened yesterday, and not several years ago.
Everytime he was given food he didn't personally see made, Phoenix started to go into a panic about it. He could really only eat stuff he knew wasn't tampered or touched beforehand, or had left his sight somewhere in the process. Anytime he was given food that he wasn't sure of, the anxiety just got worse and worse. He would stare at his meal and think ‘Its poison, its poisoned, you are going to be poisoned and die-’ until the thoughts became overwhelming.
It got harder to eat out places, after that. He began to strategically eat out of sight of his family. While the food Miles or any other members of his family made was safe, he still couldn't help but be anxious over them. There was always that nagging voice in the back of his mind, screaming But what if…
He started to skip meals, like his college days right after Dahlia. And then, it just started snowballing more and more. He lost weight, and could feel the concerned looks from Apollo, Trucy and Miles, but he did nothing to stop them. This is how he coped, after all.
The ‘not real’ stuff came from the food issue, at first.
Phoenix would be sitting there, looking at whatever he had decided to eat for dinner, and he would think; it's not poisoned. It's not real. Just eat it, and it’ll be gone. It was one of the only ways he could actually manage to get food down that he didn't prepare. However, the food not being real thing started to travel more throughout his life. He would think; ‘ This food isn't real, it's just a bunch of calories I have to eat so I’m not hungry anymore’ which would spiral into ‘this food isn't real, the plate isn't real, and this whole place might not be real either.’
It was fucking terrifying to experience. His grip on reality was slipping. Phoenix kept finding himself over analyzing every move people made, and wondering whether or not he was an actual person or not. If the food he ate wasn't real, then was the house even real? Was he ? What made him an actual person, and not some brain in a jar somewhere?
That particular train of thought came to a head, unfortunately, in the middle of a trial.
It had been a normal court day, up until the very end. Phoenix is at the stand, just finishing explaining his case, when he feels something creeping up his neck. It’s a feeling, more than anything. Some instinct telling him that something was wrong. He is about to finish his short ramble, when he feels a sudden instinct to stop talking. He follows it finishing his sentence, mind now on high alert. It felt like something very, very bad was going to happen if he continued.
Phoenix feels everyone’s eyes on him, and for a second he can’t breathe. Which is stupid, since he’s done this so many times. He’s had these eyes on him before. Why are they making him freak out now? He feels his breathing pick up. Suddenly the pressure of all these people staring at him starts to get to him. He can’t move, legs glued to the floor, mouth stuck shut. His hands feel fuzzy, like they are full of static. He’s not sure what's happening to him.
“Any further statements from the defense?” The judge speaks, but it's like he’s a million miles away. Hearing it, Phoenix feels his vision shift. He's got to say something. It's like he’s not there, anyway. This is a dream, or something close to it. Phoenix watches himself from a distance.
“No, your Honor.” He hears himself say, just barely above a mumble. He’s not certain he even feels real. The world seems like it could shatter to pieces at any moment. Was he actually in court? Was he actually dreaming? He wasn’t sure. What had even just happened?
He hears the Judge say something, and then there is a flurry of movement. Phoenix feels like the floor beneath him is going to give way under his feet. He watches everyone else move, and it suddenly hits him that he should be moving too. He packs up his things, not really registering the words on the paper, not really registering anything. On autopilot, he walks away from the defense stand, and barely registers bumping into people. He walks to the courthouse bathroom, numbly sits down onto a toilet, and tries to figure out what the fuck is happening to him.
He breathes in, breathes out. Clenches his hands tightly, trying to get rid of the numb feeling that's overtaken his entire body. He pinches himself, and it is not enough. He puts his hands over his eyes and puts pressure onto them. The world rocks beneath him, giving him waves of vertigo. He feels like he’s floating, somewhere. Sick of feeling the waves of nausea, he suddenly grabs a fistfull of his hair and pulls, the pain shocking him out of whatever trance he was in.
It's like he can breathe again, suddenly. The world rushes to meet him, and Phoenix can finally feel the cold tiles underneath his feet, the hands on his face, the taste of blood in his mouth. His breath is loud, and it takes Phoenix a moment longer to regulate it back to normal. He rubs at his face, and tries to think. What had just happened? Phoenix isn’t even sure. It wasn't like him to have freakouts like that, especially in court. That had never happened to him before. Why now?
He hears the door to the bathroom open, and Phoenix freezes. He stops his erratic breathing, and takes his hands away from his face.
“Phoenix?” He hears Miles say. Right, he had wanted to watch Phoenix’s trial today, of course he would have noticed that something was wrong. Phoenix takes a deep breath and stands, exiting the stall. He knows he probably looks like shit, but Miles probably would be more worried if Phoenix didn't leave the stall at all.
When Phoenix exits, he can see Miles with an obvious concerned look on his face. Phoenix forces himself to smile, and goes to wash his hands. He doesn't want to worry Miles, and telling him about his freakout… it wasn’t something he wanted to try to explain when he barely knew himself. So, like always, Phoenix decided to fake it til he made it.
“Hey, Miles.”
“Are you…alright?” Miles approaches him, and puts a warm hand on his shoulder.
“What do you mean?” Phoenix feigns confusion, but Miles knows him too well. “I’m fine.”
“What…happened out there?” Miles asks. “You…froze, at the end there.”
“I’m…” Phoenix knows that in order to sell this, he has to put some truth into it. “I’m honestly not sure. Something kinda came over me…I guess this case has worn me out more than I thought!” He finishes washing his hands, and smiles warmly at Miles. “I’ll be fine once I get some sleep, probably.”
Phoenix sees Miles relax, the tension in him leaving, and feels insanely guilty for lying to him. “Good. I was…well.” Miles shuffles uncomfortably. “It was troubling, seeing you look so…are you really alright?”
“Trust me, Miles.” Phoenix says, and the lie creeps out of his throat like poison. “Never been better.”
Phoenix held himself in his room for a while, after that.
He couldn’t really go outside much, not anymore. During the day, the light was so bright he felt convinced it wasn't real. That everything was too overlit, and that if he closed his eyes, everything could just disappear. And at night, there were too many places a person could ambush him. They could be hiding anywhere, in some dark alley he had no way of seeing. He feared for his life when outside, in the dark. So, for the most part, he stays inside.
He even started to miss work, too paranoid to be even thinking about going outside, and too paranoid that whatever had happened in court would happen again. Oftentimes he was able to shake off his fears, but not always. It was really affecting him, and he had no way of stopping the thoughts before they began to spiral out of control.
So of course, they both noticed. Trucy and Miles both. Phoenix could barely hide anything from them, they were way smarter than that. None of them say anything to him, at least, not at first. They just gave…quiet reminders, to show that they still cared.
Trucy would squeeze his hand extra hard whenever they went outside, giving him frequent reminders to eat. Miles kept shooting him concerned looks, kept wanting to start conversations, but Phoenix was too used to avoiding people, so he managed to squeeze out of them everytime.
Eventually, Phoenix finally slipped, and Miles took action.
It only happens because Phoenix loses his grip for a moment. Only a moment, but it's enough.
He is outside, walking home with groceries in one hand. It's just turning to dusk, and Phoenix curses himself for not leaving the house earlier. The long shadows that are cast by the setting sun hold a certain kind of danger. And while Phoenix knows, knows its stupid, he still can’t help but check and double check the people walking past him as he walks home. He looks at each one, tries to memorize their faces in case they suddenly stab him for no reason. While the assumption is ludacris, it continues to persist in Phoenix’s mind. He counts his steps, taking long strides so he can get home faster. With the darkness closing in, he almost feels like a prey animal, waiting to be devoured.
He suddenly hears a noise behind him. Phoenix breathes in, looks behind him. Nothing is there, only an empty sidewalk. Out of a need to calm himself, he grips the pocket knife in his hand. Phoenix has taken to carrying it on him, at all times. Partially out of fear, and another out of protection. He can’t stand walking alone at night anymore, or at all, so when he does, he brings the small knife with him. No one ever finds out he has it, so it’s fine. He’s not causing any harm, just by bringing it. It's for his own protection.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
The noise happens again, and Phoenix whirls around, his feet scraping the sidewalk. Of course, again, nothing is there, but the noise puts him on edge. He keeps checking the shadows. Phoenix can almost feel the presence of something behind him, something lurking just out of his periphery. The adrenaline from the end of the walk keeps him jittery, half expecting some kind of jumpscare to pop in from around every corner. The feeling terrifies him. And nothing is there, nothing could be there. And yet…
Phoenix gets to his apartment complex and nearly sighs in relief, but stops himself. He doesn't want the things following him to know he’s dropped his guard. He walks into the building, keeping in mind to wait until the door completely shuts before walking further inside. He’s been warned of people kidnapped because they left the locking door open too long. He climbs up the stairs, feeling entirely off-balanced. He’s technically safe, but what if the threat is inside the building? His apartment is the only place he can have a modicum of relaxation. He messes with his keys for an extraordinary length of time, his hands shaky and unsure.
He opens the door and closes it in a rush behind him, the slam echoes throughout the house. It’s here that Phoenix sighs in relief, and walks through the small room, eager to put the groceries away.
“Are you alright?” He hears Miles before he sees him. The action causes Phoenix to whirl around. Miles is sitting in the living room, a paper in his lap, and just clearly saw Phoenix’s minor freak out there.
“Y-Yeah. Fine.” Phoenix brushes it off, tries to move on. He puts the groceries on the counter, and hears the tell-tale clickclack of Miles taking off his reading glasses.
“....Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“ Phoenix .” and he says the name with firm finality. “We both saw that. Let's stop pretending.” Miles puts the paper down. “Come here,” he says gently.
Phoenix takes a deep breath. He walks carefully to the couch. Shit. Intervention time. He thinks, half-sarcastic. He sits down, and him and Miles are now looking at each other. It's not the first time Phoenix has been subjected to ‘The Edgeworth Stare’, but it has to be one of the most nerve-racking.
“Trucy has told me you haven't been acting right.” Phoenix doesnt know what to say, hasn’t known what to say, so he defaults to humor.
“What do you mean? I’m always acting Wright.” He gives a defeated smile. Miles’ scowl deepens.
“Don’t be a fool.” His tone is harsh, but then shifts to concern. “She’s told me you don't go outside. That you don’t eat. And then I see you…looking so panicked after a simple errand. What on earth is wrong?”
Phoenix doesnt know what to say. He can’t just tell him. Miles will just find out he is crazy, and leave him. Phoenix looks down, and can’t think of anything to say in response. Miles sighs.
“Phoenix,” He says gently, and places his hand on Phoenix's shoulder. “Let me in. Whatever you tell me, I’ll-”
“You’ll-” Phoenix flinches away from his warm hand. “I can’t tell you, Miles. You’ll hate me.”
Miles has the audacity to chuckle, at that. “Hate you? Nothing could make me hate you, Phoenix Wright.”
The joke falls flat. Phoenix doesn’t react, and Miles just shifts closer. The two are now sitting face to face, holding each other's hands.
“Me and Trucy know you’ve been struggling. Is this some…mental block you are trying to overcome?” Phoenix takes a second, and then he nods. “Now you know what I’m going to tell you, right?”
“Yeah.” Phoenix feels like he’s going to break into two clean pieces. “Tell me anyway?”
“I wouldn't leave you over something as trivial as mental health, if that's what you’re thinking.” Miles takes his hand from Phoenix’s and cups his face. “You give me this pep talk every December, remember? If you were struggling with something similar, I’d just be a hypocrite, wouldn't I?” Phoenix nods, and he feels Miles’ grip on his face tighten. “Then, tell me.”
“....You’ll think I’m crazy.” Phoenix practically whispers.
“I already think you’re crazy,” Miles says, a laugh in his voice. “in the best way.”
Phoenix leans forward, and the two end up in a hug. Phoenix can’t say this to his face, can’t watch his face crumple at the realization that Phoenix has something objectively wrong with him.
“I think I’m going crazy.” Phoenix says into Miles’ ear. He feels Miles wrap his hands around Phoenix’s back, and he sinks into him.
“How so?”
“I keep thinking…things are coming to get me. Us.” Phoenix puts his head into Miles’ shoulder and lets the words flow outward. “That I’m going to be poisoned. Or that you are going to be poisoned.”
“...Dahlia?” Miles whispers, because he knows every part of him, and Phoenix nods.
“Partially. But it's not just because of her.” He shudders, and keeps going. “I keep thinking that…things aren't real. That I’m not real.”
Miles tightens his grip. “That time in court-”
“Yeah.” Phoenix sighs, and lifts his head, making eye contact with Miles. “I’m sorry. I just…I think I’m losing my mind.”
Miles sighs, looks down, and then back at Phoenix. “How long have…?”
“A few months.” Phoenix feels a sense of dread overtake him. “I didn't want to worry you.”
“In the future, please do.” He shifts, and Phoenix is so terrified he is going to leave that he can’t help but clutch him tighter.
“Please don't…I get it if you want to-”
Miles cuts him off before he can even finish the thought. “Don’t. I swear to god, Phoenix. I’m not leaving you over this, okay? We can…” Miles’ fury leaves his voice, and he’s just left looking tired. “This isn’t the end of the world.”
“It feels like it.” Phoenix says, and finally feels the tears that have been building up throughout this entire conversation. “It feels like the end of the world.”
“It’s not. I’m right here.” Miles squeezes him tighter, and Phoenix barely feels it.
“I don’t even know if this is real.” He says in a rush, a sob forcing its way out of him at the admission.
He feels Miles stiffen, and Phoenix is no longer in Miles’ arms. Phoenix is alarmed for a moment, before he realizes Miles isn't leaving. He puts both of his hands on the side of Phoenix’s face and looks at him with intense gravity. “Phoenix, this is real. You are real. Okay? All of this is real.”
“How do I know you aren't lying?”
“Don’t you have that…rock thing?” Miles flounders for a second. “The psycholocks. That infernal device.”
“Magatama.” Phoenix says with a bitter smile. “No, it’s in my dresser.”
“Well, then,” Miles starts to get up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, what-”
“That magatama will tell you that I’m not lying, correct?” He stills his movement, and stays on the couch, his hands lowering from Phoenix's face. “It’ll let you know I’m telling the truth.”
“But I thought…” Phoenix pauses. “I thought we agreed not to keep it around all the time.” He’s not even sure if he can handle seeing the magatama in action, right now. “I don't want to invade your privacy.”
“If it's something that makes you feel safe, then the sacrifice is necessary.”
“Miles.” Phoenix cuts off, his voice hard. “This isn’t. You shouldn’t be sacrificing anything. I know I’m crazy, okay?” His voice shakes, but he soldiers on. “You deserve someone who doesn't…who isn't…”
“Stop.” Miles reaches forward and grips Phoenix’s shoulder like a lifeline. “Phoenix. It’s not a matter of deserving. If anything, I don't deserve you .” And Miles says it with so much seriousness, as if he truly believes that. “You know how I get, in the winter. Having those episodes doesn’t mean I don't deserve you, does it?”
“...No.” Phoenix admits.
“Then there you go.” Miles lets go of Phoenix's shoulder and shifts, facing forward rather than facing Phoenix. “This is something you can get help for, you know.”
“Can I?” Phoenix puts his head in his hands. “I don't think so. I’m crazy . How can anything help with that?”
“You’d need medication,” Miles begins, his voice soft. “And at least some form of therapy. I can ask mine about people she recommends.”
“But-”
“With both of those, I’m sure they can help with whatever you're struggling with.”
“Miles,” Phoenix lifts his head. “They’ll just…put me in some psyche ward and throw away the key. I’ve got Trucy to take care of, and Apollo-”
“Objection,” Miles says, but it's with a light, teasing tone. “There is no evidence they’ll do such a thing. And even if they did, it would be for your health, first and foremost.” He grabs both of Phoenix's hands, holds them still between the two of them. “I just want you to feel safe, ok? I know that…thinking the world isn't real can be a terrifying and lonely experience.” Phoenix looks into Miles’ eyes, and feels a wave of safety wash over him. “I just want you to know that… you're not alone, in this.”
Phoenix leans forward, and the two are hugging, again. He leans his head onto Miles’ shoulder, probably staining his shirt with tears, and gives a bittersweet laugh. All this time, he’d been worried over nothing. Story of his life, recently. But can it really get better? Is there any way he can get past this?
Yeah, with help. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Mia rings in Phoenix's mind. He lets the tears fall, and lifts his head.
“Can you get that magatama then? If we are going to talk about how to fix me, then I at least want to be sure this is actually happening.”
“Don't say that.” Miles says, and Phoenix can feel the vibration of his voice, he’s so close. “You aren't in need of fixing . You aren't broken in the first place.”
“I mean, I kinda am…”
“No, you aren't.” Miles lets Phoenix go, and rises from the couch. “I’ll get that for you.”
When Miles leaves, Phoenix puts his pocket knife on the table, and stares at it. He hears a creek behind him, and he is so close to grabbing the knife and whirling around to confront whatever is there. But the part of him that is just so tired of the entire thing stops him before he can lunge for it. It's just the house settling. He rationalizes, even if another part of him is screaming at him to at least check. So he does. He turns around and sees nothing there. He sighs in relief, and waits.
And when Miles comes back, and Phoenix takes hold of the magatama, he’ll know that he is real.