"Phooenix! I'm hooome!" Edgeworth's, worryingly deep, voice called out as he used his left hand to lopsidedly turn his, sleek, steel, house-keys in the humungous oak door's fancily engraved golden lock, balancing a thin, dangling, plastic bag upon the lower half of his right arm skilfully.
"He can't have heard me," The prosecutor muttered under his breath, his voice accompanied by a heavy sigh of laziness as the silvery-haired man nudged the door open with his, shinily adorned, foot and allowed himself into its gaping mouth. The door clicked shut of its own accord behind him.
"Phoenix!" Edgeworth hastily kicked his pristine walking-garments off of his slender feet, in hope of maintaining his floor's cleanly polished reputation, only to instantly hurl himself forwards at the corridors of his overly-spacious apartment.
"Phoenix?" The prosecutor thrust open the barren living room's door, embracing the brief gush of cool air washing over him as he did so, to find himself with a look of disdain and a bloodless face. Nevertheless, he sullenly tore his eyes away from the lifeless, empty, scene before consequently dashing over into the hallway once again, entering doorway after doorway - each room leaving him with less hope than the other - until the only doorway left which he hadn't searched was the one he'd entered the place through. Nauseating dread began to settle in the back of his throat as he stared, lifelessly, at that door - nostalgia smacking him across the face.

Phoenix was missing...

Again?

Edgeworth painstakingly slowly sank to his knees upon the alluringly polished, wooden, floor and buried his head in his hands. Many thoughts obscured his thought-processes, haunting the rusty infrastructure of his mind.

He shouldn't have left Phoenix all alone.

He should have spent more time reassuring Phoenix that he had no clue who 'Atramentous' was.

He should have kissed Phoenix, and told him how much he loved him, before he'd left to get that damned caffeinated drink.

The sheer terror in his boyfriend's gorgeous, sapphire-blue, eyes as the prosecutor had mentioned he'd be leaving the apartment - leaving him - for twenty minutes shook Edgeworth to the core. Had he left the defence attorney in an insecure place? An unstable state? What if he'd been kidnapped again? What if they'd... Do that to him again? The prosecutor breathed heavily, his arms clumsily outstretched in front of him to steady himself as they fumbled about atop the floor for some sort of grip, as he tried to remain 'calm' (which appeared to be an impossibility every time the silvery-haired man so much as recalled Phoenix's name).
"Oh no, Phooenix..." Edgeworth whined to himself quietly as he felt the terrifyingly unbeknownst sensation of warm, wet, droplets beginning to caress his distinct cheekbones in the exact same manner as they had all those months ago.

He wiped the metaphorical slug trails away as soon as he was done with moping to himself.

Miles Edgeworth had an idea.

The prosecutor silently scrambled to his feet, delving into his blazer's pocket and feeling somewhat foolish about his sudden mental breakdown. After all, he hadn't tried every single resource available to him yet, had he?

The tiny, rectangular, object of hope slid out of the silvery-haired man's fashionably crimson blazer with ease - thanks to Edgeworth's daily precision in planning exactly where every single object he required would go in his pockets (something which the man took far too much pride in gaining boasting rights over). The sleekly lined phone glared up at its owner with its glossy, jet-black, screen as the slim button in the top right-hand corner of the thing was swiftly given a brief squeeze and the entire device flickered with newly found life, emerging from its infinite slumber to face the tightly drawn face squinting back down at it.
"Phoenix, you better pick this up..."

The prosecutor's palms began to feel increasingly clammy with the electric tension in the air.