slow down, you're doing fine! you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight
too bad, but it's the life you lead: you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need
though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right— you're right.
you've got your passion, you've got your pride. but don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
dream on, but don't imagine that they'll all come true. when will you realize vienna waits for you?

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Miles Edgeworth had never been one for large groups. "Two's company, three's a crowd," he'd often been heard saying. So, needless to say, it was new to him to have six different people bustling around in what was essentially his bedroom. As always, however, he was he was powerless to stop it.

Maya and Phoenix were rifling through his closet. He sat at the bench of his piano, discussing Mr. Armando's musical preferences with Iris and Franziska, while Adrian... seemed to be setting up some kind of snack platter? He honestly couldn't tell. Larry was texting somebody rather frantically.

"That's too fancy, Nick! God, you're clueless! We're going business casual!"

"Unacceptable!" Franziska interrupted. "Casual clothing will not do!"

"She has a point," Adrian added as she finally finished assembling her deli tray. "I wouldn't recommend going fully black tie, but he'd be underdressed in business casual. ...Actually, he's always wearing business casual."

"I am not!" Miles protested. Franziska waved him off.

Miles was on edge. His audition for the orchestra was in only a few hours, and Armando had sent him the list of songs he could choose from rather late. Apparently he didn't like giving those who auditioned a long time to prepare themselves. He felt that he got a more genuine feel for a performer's overall skill that way, Franziska said.

Miles had assumed that, like with most things, he would have to bear the stress mostly on his own. Instead his new "friends" had insisted on "prepping him". ...Which apparently meant picking out his clothes for him and serving snacks. ...Or, in Larry's case, simultaneously eating cracker sandwiches and trying to calm someone over the phone.

"I just don't know how to feel about having so little time to practice," Miles lamented, tuning out the others.

"What did you decide to play?" Iris asked. She seemed sympathetic to his plight, most likely from her own audition experience. Miles nervously adjusted his collar.

"I'm sticking with what I know I can perform," he replied. "I'm sticking with the Moonlight Sonata."

"...A bit simple for an audition, but with enough emotion—"

"I'm not doing the first movement," Miles scoffed. "I'll be playing the third."

Phoenix saw Adrian twitch and Franziska raise an eyebrow. Iris looked concerned.

"Y-You may have the opposite problem with that piece! Isn't it quite complex?!"

"It certainly sounds complex," Adrian agreed. Miles offered a Von Karma-esque smirk.

"Difficult for the layman, and even so for one with several years of training. But for one trained under a Von Karma? For a true professional? Ha! Hardly a challenge!" Franziska boasted. Her brand of arrogance was certainly strange, Phoenix noted. She often talked up her rivals. She treated it like it should be a given— in order to be worthy of challenging her, an opponent had to have respectable skill.

"It's not as difficult as it sounds," Miles casually explained. "Mostly arpeggios of the right hand. If you want a real challenge, try his Hammerklavier— it was considered unplayable for thirty years."

Phoenix whistled. His friends had a way of making classical music sound both beautiful and terrifying. But, then, was that not the essence of being an artist?

"But Moonlight is your favorite, right?" Phoenix asked. Miles clenched his jaw and gave him an uncomfortable look.

"...It is."

Phoenix smiled, happy that he'd remembered correctly.

He got a few snacks from the tray Adrian had provided while the woman herself joined Maya to sort through Miles' clothes. He had a semi-casual suit, one that looked well-tailored, and a wine-red dress shirt to wear beneath. Phoenix wondered if Miles had clothing in colors besides red and black and the occasional bit of grey. Just then, Maya pulled out a long white cloth.

"What's this?" she asked, making a face. Adrian laughed.

"What, you don't recognize it? Fran wears them almost all the time!"

Maya looked over at the German girl. As always, she wore a piece of white cloth around her neck that fluffed outward at the breast. Maya couldn't remember the name of it.

"A cravat, right?" Phoenix recalled. Maya snapped her fingers at the realization. Phoenix took the cloth from her and wandered over to the piano. "Try it on," he urged.

Miles didn't seem to think much of it. He wrapped the cloth around his own neck and somehow wrapped it over itself in a way that created that distinctive ruffle. The girls hummed in approval as soon as he had the garment fastened.

"It's as though it was made for you," Iris praised. Phoenix had to agree. He stepped aside to allow Maya and Adrian to see. Adrian adjusted her glasses, then smiled.

"It'll go with the suit. I'd tuck it in, though. The ruffles would break the clean lines." She explained it well enough that everyone agreed. Looking at the spectacled woman, Miles narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly.

"I've been meaning to ask... Have I not seen you elsewhere before all of this? How did you come to know Franziska?"

Adrian opened her mouth to respond, and Franziska lurched in place as if intending to stop her. Before the conversation could proceed, however, Larry abruptly ended his phone conversation.

"Everybody on high alert— angry Ema Skye is approaching. Even my stupid jokes didn't work. She is MAD." Larry shivered as he explained, as though her wrath had been palpable through the phone.

"What happened?!" Maya demanded. Larry dismissed her, hushing everyone as he approached the door.

A few moments, and there was a series of loud raps against the wood. Larry did his best to throw the door open and jump away fast enough to avoid being struck. He was only partially successful.

"I can't believe people! Traitors! All of them, traitors!"

Ema stormed her way into the room and wasted no time in throwing herself onto Miles' bed. The others, Miles included, approached her. Maya cautiously sat beside Ema on the mattress to gently prod at her shoulder.

"Who's a traitor? What's going on, Ema?"

Ema took a moment to collect herself, screaming into a pillow, before sitting up while clutching it to herself as some kind of shield. She took a deep breath.

"So I was just at a staff meeting with my sister, helping her out with taking notes and stuff, right? Normal stuff, everything is fine so far. Just PEACHY. And then, and then! That damned traitor— Principal Grossberg— he just casually drops the bomb that he totally sold us out!"

"Sold us out? How do you figure that?" Phoenix asked, genuinely concerned. Ema huffed.

"Well, you see, there's been a change of hands recently in terms of investors. And they decided they'd keep Payne and Grossberg around, on one condition— that they get to re-evaluate the budget. Gotta make sure they're getting their money's worth out of their investment, after all!"

The room shared a mixture of aggravated groans and shocked gasps. Phoenix shook his head in total bewilderment.

"But what does that mean for us?" Iris asked shyly. Ema scoffed.

"What it always means! The new investors care more about making money than enriching lives and the local culture. Art grants don't exactly bring in the big bucks. So whenever they wanna cut costs, what's the first thing they cut? The arts programs, that's what! ...Pffft. They'll probably give it all to the football team," she spat.

There was a moment of confused, fearful chatter before Larry asked the question on everyone's minds.

"So what happens to us?! Will we lose our scholarships?! I don't have the kind of money to be—"

"We should be alright," Ema reassured. "But it looks like there might not be too many more like us. And my sister and Mr. Armando are worried about the arts tournament. Will they even have enough funding to go? There are lots of fees involved... It'd be horrible if we couldn't go. Lana would be devastated."

For a minute or two, the room was overtaken by sadness. Phoenix felt a deep, gnawing guilt that he couldn't yet put into words. Franziska's expression hardened eventually, and her eyes flared.

"It... is no matter! There is only one solution. We shall make the tournament by whatever means necessary, and we shall dominate! They will have no choice but to recognize our merit then."

The suggestion was met, at first, with silence, and then agreement and excitement spread like a wildfire.

"Yeah... Yeah! I can do that! WE can do that!" Larry exclaimed. Ema wiped away her frustrated tears.

"It's better than moping around. Besides— even if the grant program goes, it'll go out with a big ol' bang!" Ema grinned, and Maya patted her on the back.

As soon as everyone had reached agreement, Miles returned to his piano with Franziska and Adrian while Ema and Maya laid out clothes and the others sat on the couch to enjoy some snacks. It was only when the quiet hum of the routine had returned that Larry seemed to remember something and looked to the piano.

"Hey, Franzy— isn't your dad, like, super-mega-rich? Couldn't he donate money to the arts department? I mean, he owns a symphony and everything!"

Phoenix was surprised to hear an intelligent suggestion from Larry, for one thing, but was even more surprised that he had forgotten this detail, and that Franziska hadn't mentioned it. Everyone looked to her, almost afraid to say anything. Her shoulders drew back and stiffened, and something in her eyes clouded.

"...My family is very wealthy. I make this no secret."

"You... could ask him for his assistance, couldn't you? We hate to impose, but..." Iris was careful with her words, and Phoenix couldn't blame her.

Something seemed off about Franziska.

She was known to brag about her family and its heritage, and she normally boasted about her father's accomplishments and all that she had to live up to. But every once in a while, like now, there seemed to be a crack in her facade. He wondered— how did she really feel about her father? Was their true relationship a strained one? Adrian looked very worried all of a sudden, and being her roommate and closest friend, she was more likely to know the truth than anyone else.

But there was no time to ask her about that now, and even if there was, Phoenix didn't know if he could.

"...I will see what I can do," Franziska huffed after a long moment of anxious, silent breathing. Larry and Ema, generally less attuned than the others to people's physical signs of stress, cheered.

Everyone dispersed once again, now seemingly relieved by the idea that the art department may get some extra funding, while Franziska looked at her shoes and said nothing. Adrian patted her on the back and gave her a gentle smile, which seemed to relax her only slightly. Adrian always seemed to know what to do.

Before Phoenix could go and check on her, Maya tugged on his arm and dragged him towards the piano bench.

"So by tomorrow you'll finally be placed in all of your classes, right?" She asked Miles. He stopped his absent-minded playing of various keys and glanced at her.

"Right."

"And you and Nick share, like, three classes, right?"

"Yes... Three. World History, Art History, and Introduction to Photography."

When Ema saw the conversation, she, too, ran to the piano. Phoenix wondered what they were up to.

"Wow, that many?" Ema added, trying to seem like she'd innocently wandered up and not like she had been waiting for Maya's cue. "So you have all of the same assignments and stuff?"

"...That's generally how classes work, yes," Miles said, a hint of sass in his tone. Phoenix chuckled. As they'd gotten to know him better, Miles had started to show hints of bitter sarcasm.

Maya pretended that she'd been struck with an idea. Phoenix kept his mouth shut and braced himself for whatever she was planning to suggest.

"Oh, I have an idea! The two of you could help each other out and save time if you studied together!"

"You don't have to do that," Phoenix insisted, waving his arms frantically in front of him. Ema discreetly pinched his arm, effectively silencing him.

"Yeah, I mean, you've got a fancy private dorm— Larry wouldn't be able to distract you, and he could have girls over while Nick is gone! Everyone wins!"

"I knew you two were up to something," Phoenix hissed. Ema tightened her grip on his wrist, and he stayed quiet, not wanting to get pinched again. Miles glanced at him, but gave no indication that he had heard.

"That sounds reasonable."

Phoenix froze. Was he... Was he agreeing? He didn't know whether he should be delighted or embarrassed. It had been a while since the two of them had spent a long time talking alone, like they'd often done just after the store expansion. He'd be lying if he said the possibility didn't excite him.

"Everyone get back on topic!" Franziska declared. The color had returned to her face, and she no longer seemed anxious.

"I'll text you about it later, kay?" Maya said as she patted Miles on the back and then scurried away. She grabbed Phoenix by the hood of his jacket. "You come with me— we have to iron that suit!"

"Be careful," Miles pleaded.

Miles' outfit was picked out for him and carefully ironed, pressed, and hung up to prevent wrinkles. Adrian fetched a trash bag and collected the remains of the empty food platter, promising that she would dispose of it properly, to save Miles the headache of doing so himself. Franziska left him some notes about Armando and some of the other faculty members who often served as guest judges, and then she and Adrian took their leave together.

Iris gave Miles a teeny-tiny paper crane, trapped inside some kind of glass ball about the size of a marble, to use as a good luck charm, while Ema gave him one of her lucky buttons. Maya had a little plastic tag that held a pressed flower inside of it to give him. She said it was meant to be used as a bookmark and that Pearl had made it for him. Phoenix felt like the odd one out— he hadn't thought to bring a present, and he wasn't sure that he even had anything that could be used as a proper charm. Miles seemed caught off-guard by all of the attention.

"...I'll keep everything in my pockets," Miles promised, blushing.

And with that, they were chased out of the room so that Miles could continue to practice alone.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Ema let out a long, happy sigh as soon as her back hit the mattress of her bed. Only a moment passed before Maya giggled and mimicked her actions. As soon as she'd landed, she curled into a semi-seated position and pulled out her phone to send a text message.

Maya Fey: Hi Miles!!! U said u would study with Nick, right? When are u free for that?

Maya knew that Miles took a long while to respond, as he wasn't the type to be at his phone constantly. In the meantime, she turned to face Ema.

"I hope things go well with Franny's dad," she said. "He could really help us out. I mean, he seems like kind of a jerk, but he might not be a total jerk. He's got plenty of money to spare."

"God, do I hope so," Ema agreed. "Lana seemed really stressed out about it. It's hard enough for me to talk to her as it is, and when she gets too stressed out she completely shuts down."

Maya frowned and leaned in a bit closer so that she could look her friend in the eye.

"I've been meaning to ask about that. The two of you have been going places together a lot, so I thought things must have gotten better. Was I wrong?"

"No! Or... Well, um..." Ema paused to look up at the ceiling and think. She huffed and crossed her arms. "It's not that we don't get along, it's just... She's not the same, you know? And I don't know what happened to her. She... When we were younger, she used to smile all the time. Everyone loved her. Whenever I had a problem, I went to her. She was open about her emotions, and about giving affection... Now, it's like I just can't talk to her. She's never mean to me, she just... She just shuts me out! Makes me feel like I'm walking on eggshells."

Maya shook her head. She knew the feeling.

Ema and Lana had had a strained relationship for several years, Ema had told her. Ema's parents had died rather suddenly in a fire at their workplace, and after that, Lana had been charged with caring for Ema. Lana had been only seventeen at the time.

Over the years, she'd slowly gotten more and more withdrawn, sharing less and less of her own feelings with Ema as she'd become more focused on her career. And no matter how hard Ema tried, or how much time they spent together, she couldn't break through the pattern. She'd get closer to Lana, and then Lana would grow cold and shove her away, leaving Ema both frustrated and sad. The girl was beginning to wonder if her efforts to get closer to her sister were even worth it.

It was similar to what Maya experienced with her Aunt Morgan.

Aunt Morgan could be nice— she was usually kind to her daughter Pearl, even if she placed a lot of pressure on the girl to do well in school and to excel in her pottery work. Morgan, herself, was not skilled enough to lead the Fey clan, but was determined to have Pearl do so in her stead one day. On other days, she wasn't nice. She'd yell at both Maya and Pearl, taking out her frustrations on them and frequently giving Maya the cold shoulder when all she wanted was a family that loved her.

It was why both Maya and Pearl spent so much time with Phoenix and Larry. Their apartment felt more like a family home than the Fey Manor did.

It was funny, when she really thought about it. Her entire group of friends was made up of people who had issues with their own families, and Phoenix, the unofficial pack leader, was the only exception. He'd said that he wished he'd had siblings growing up, and maybe that explained his strange desire to adopt people.

"I get it," Maya eventually reassured her. "You know that I get it."

"How's Pearly?" Ema asked, distracted, for the moment, from her own troubled thoughts. Maya offered a strained smile.

"She's happy to be back in school, but she's not very good at reading and writing. She has a lot of trouble with spelling, especially. I'm afraid that Aunt Morgan will get mad at her while I'm not around."

"It's bound to happen. You can't keep an eye on her all the time."

"But I wish that I could! If there was a way, I would keep her here with me, but... I can barely take care of myself half the time."

"You don't have to feel guilty about that! You're barely eighteen."

The girls smiled at one another, exchanging a knowing glance. Just then, Maya's phone chimed. She held it up for Ema to see.

Piano Man: I don't have anything to do after practice tonight, but shouldn't I be planning such a thing with Phoenix himself?

Maya giggled as she typed her response.

Maya Fey: Nah, he's too forgetful! I'll tell him for u
Maya Fey: And I'll smack him around to make sure he remembers!!!

A long pause.

Piano Man: Don't hurt him, please. I'll tell him to meet me after practice.

Ema and Maya exchanged glances and a series of high-pitched, squealing giggles. Maya could barely type through her excited wiggling.

Maya Fey: You don't want me to hurt Nick?? :o
Piano Man: Of course not. Why would I?
Maya Fey: awwww. u guys have become such good friends <3
Piano Man: I suppose.
Maya Fey: ur being a tsundere again :p
Piano Man: I've done no such thing.
Piano Man: Anyway, I'll be sure to text him about it. I'll text you in the event that he forgets, but please avoid resorting to violence.
Maya Fey: OK, OK. See u soon!

She and Ema giggled some more, and with Maya's permission, it was Ema who took out her phone to send Phoenix a warning.

Science Skye: Nick!!! We got Miles 2 agree 2 studying with you this evening!!! He's gonna text you soon. DON'T YOU DARE FORGET
Science Skye: Also he got all concerned when Maya threatened 2 hit you <3
Nickelodeon: I told you guys not to go planning things without me! I mean of course I'll go but
Nickelodeon: Wait. Concerned?
Science Skye: He told her not 2 hurt you
Nickelodeon: Wow. How romantic.
Nickelodeon: You guys are setting a pretty low standard for me...
Science Skye: Whatever, Nick! Just keep an eye out for his text
Nickelodeon: Fine. ...Thanks, I guess.
Science Skye: Now you're being the tsundere!!
Nickelodeon: pffft, whatever. I'll talk to you guys later. I have to paint!

Ema let out another happy sigh as she put her phone back into her pocket. She laid back on her pillows and faced Maya again.

"We should probably study."

"Yeah... Probably."

"...OR we could play Animal Cross—"

Maya practically leapt across the room in search of her 3DS before Ema could even finish her sentence.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"I still don't know that this is a good idea..."

"Silence, fool! No one uses this door!"

"Why even have it, then?!"

"Pipe down," Adrian commanded. "We'll get kicked out if they hear us."

Phoenix willfully obeyed, falling silent. He had planned on calling Miles for details after his audition was over. Instead, Franziska had suggested sneaking into the music hall to watch, and Maya had jumped on the idea. Now, he trailed behind as Franziska and Adrian guided them through a crowded storage room and into the performance hall's back corner, where the group hid behind a large rack of chairs. This seemed to be a smaller hall designed for practices and recitals, so its only seating was provided by metal folding chairs.

"Look," Maya whispered, elbowing Phoenix. He peeked past her as carefully as he could.

Miles was just now entering the stage area from what seemed like a tiny room off to the side. He hesitated near the doorway. Diego Armando, seated on a metal chair at the other end of the stage, finished adjusting his papers— were those meant to be used as scoring sheets?— and smiled (as far as Phoenix could tell from this distance, anyway).

"Mr. Edgeworth. We're ready for you. If you don't mind, I've asked a friend of mine to sit in on this audition with me, mostly to help judge your performance. Miss Hall, this is Miles Edgeworth."

Phoenix heard all four of the girls standing around him suppress sharp gasps. Iris covered her face, smothering what sounded like a loud squeal. Phoenix flinched.

"What are you all freaking out about?!" he whisper-yelled. Franziska slapped him on the arm— HARD. He hissed in pain.

"I told myself that wasn't her because I thought it couldn't possibly be, but it is— that's miss Katherine Hall!" Iris exclaimed.

"...Who?"

Franziska slapped him again. Adrian gently tapped her hand, which seemed to prevent her from striking a third time. Phoenix noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that no one on stage had said anything because Miles seemed too flustered to speak.

"Katherine Hall is famous all throughout the world of music," Adrian explained. "She's classically trained in both singing and dancing, and she began her career at only fifteen! She's been in more movie musicals and Broadway shows and operas than I can count."

"What's someone like that doing here?! And how does Mr. Armando know her?!" Phoenix sputtered. Maya shushed everyone before he could get an answer.

"It's always nice to meet such a genuine fan of my work," Katherine said, waving a fancy rose-embroidered silk fan. From what Phoenix could see, she was lovely. Franziska grumbled something about how her audition had only included Principal Grossberg.

"R-Right," Miles stammered. "I, um... I'm a third year, auditioning for the role of pianist, and will be playing the third movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata."

"And just in time," Armando added. "Mr. Wellington has transferred away. We're currently short a pianist for our performances." He fixed a serious gaze on Miles. "Which should bring you no comfort, I might add. I won't just accept whoever happens to walk in out of desperation."

"Of course not," Miles agreed. Armando grinned.

"Well, then," he said invitingly as he gestured at the piano. "Whenever you're ready."

Miles nearly scurried forward to take his seat, and Phoenix finally realized what was wrong with the scene before him.

"Where's the sheet music?" he asked, sounding slightly panicked. Franziska scoffed.

"No sheet music allowed during one of Armando's auditions. One must rely on memory, practice, and if need be, improvisational skills."

Phoenix felt his jaw drop.

"WHAT?!"

"He'll be fine. He knows the piece like the back of his hand. Now hush!"

The room fell totally silent. Phoenix thought that he could hear Miles inhale a deep breath as he positioned his hands and straightened his shoulders. A moment, and then he began to move.

Something about this performance was different from any other solo piano act that Phoenix had ever witnessed, and it took him a minute to pin down how— it seemed as though Miles was playing for his life, as if his very existence hinged on this one bit of melody. He looked like a man possessed, and as he played, he played with his entire body, until his back was no longer straight and he was hunched over the instrument, occasionally throwing his weight into the keys.

Phoenix had no way of knowing if this kind of emotion was a good thing for one's playing or not, but if he had to judge by the impassioned sound of the music that drifted to his ears, he would say that it was. He would say that every pianist should play like Miles did in this very moment. But, perhaps, he was biased, both by his ever-growing love for the man and by how handsome he looked in that charcoal-grey suit.

The song conveyed a strange sort of story. Its main feelings seemed to be of anxiety, of teetering on the edge of madness. Phoenix heard a man crippled by emotion in the notes, a man desperate and perhaps angry. If he closed his eyes to listen, he saw a lone figure bathed in silver moonlight, who lamented a battle lost, a loved one taken too soon, a betrayal, or a mistake that had cost him too much to bear.

And though Miles did not look angry, he did seem desperate and near-mad, making the melody seem oddly appropriate for the occasion. Perhaps he was lamenting past failures at being a true musician, or trying to convey the anguish of feeling musically stifled at his former university. Phoenix suspected it was the latter, but decided it was too personal a question to ask the man directly. He would only ever have his guesses about these things.

The performance ended far too soon, and the silence that followed it was painful. Phoenix and his friends couldn't applaud without betraying their position, and the judges were far too professional to do so. Miles simply stood up, bowed, thanked them, and waited.

Armando looked over his papers, at the many notes he had taken, and then at Katherine. They exchanged papers. Miles began wringing his hands together, and Phoenix noticed Iris doing the same. After a painstaking few minutes of discussing things in a hushed tone, Armando set his papers aside and cleared his throat.

"...Well, Mr. Edgeworth. There's a lot to say, but I'm sure you want to get down to the point of it all. You may take my notes, and Katherine's, home with you to review later, if you'd like."

"Thank you. I will."

"Now..." Armando closed his eyes and thoughtfully stroked his chin as he decided on his exact words. "Allow me to put this as bluntly as I can. ...You're not as good as our former pianist was."

Miles seemed to crumble into himself, and Phoenix felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut. Iris gasped.

"Oh, nooo," Maya whimpered, covering her face with her hands.

"...I'm sorry for wasting your time," Miles murmured, looking down at the floor in shame.

To everyone's surprise, Armando laughed, a quick and sharp "Ha!". Miles jumped.

"You didn't let me finish."

Phoenix felt everyone around him stop breathing as they all froze. No one, not even Miles, dared move an inch. Phoenix didn't dare to so much as blink.

"...You're not as good as our former pianist was. ...You, Miles, are a hundred times better."

The sound that pierced the air could only be described as a shriek. It was a loud burst of sound that ended as abruptly as it had begun, as Franziska clapped her hands over Maya and Iris' mouths and Phoenix stifled himself. They all froze once more, withdrawing to the safety of the chair rack, as if this alone would conceal their presence. Armando smirked, but did not yet comment. Miles was startled out of his bewildered staring in his friends' direction by Katherine's voice, and even then he snuck occasional glances at the rack of furniture.

"I never heard Mr. Wellington play, personally, but I would guess that it's a fair assessment. That was one of the finest solo piano pieces I've had the pleasure of hearing in quite some time!"

Phoenix and the others didn't bother to hide their squealing at that, and it was worth the risk of peeking out to see Miles' touched and pink-tinted expression. He bowed several times.

"Th-Thank you, Miss Hall! That's the highest of praise coming from you."

Katherine giggled and waved her fan dismissively.

"Well-deserved, I assure you."

"Congratulations, Mr. Edgeworth, on your acceptance into our fine orchestra. We'll be honored to have you," Armando said as he stood to shake Miles' hand.

"The honor is mine, sir," Miles insisted. Armando stopped, suddenly, before he turned to face outwards at where the audience would be.

"Now, ladies, if you don't mind showing yourselves..."

A pause in which everyone exchanged glances, and they emerged, one by one. Franziska seemed unapologetic, Adrian offered a nervous smile, Iris laughed sheepishly, and Maya waved an arm and cheerfully greeted Mr. Armando. Phoenix was the last to leave the safety of his hiding place.

"...We're not all ladies," he grumbled, scratching his cheek. Katherine and Armando both seemed to find that hilarious.

"I didn't recognize your voice, Mr. Wright. It seems you got unusually high-pitched in your excitement. I will take that to mean that you're a supportive friend." Armando fixed his gaze on Maya. "Miss Fey, did you stage this break-in?"

Maya only giggled in response as she ran closer to the stage, hopping up and down.

"I'll take whatever punishment you've got for me, but can I please please PLEASE get Miss Hall's autograph?!"

Armando glanced at Katherine, who chuckled and nodded.

"I don't mind," she said. "I didn't use all of the paper you lent me to make notes. Mostly because there was so little to criticize."

The girls cheered, approaching the stairs leading up to the stage. Armando looked heavily amused by the procession.

"I didn't know you fancied opera, Miss Fey."

Maya shook her head.

"Oh, no— I know her from Piece of Cake!"

"Talk about a trip through time," Katherine sang. "I don't often meet fans of my older work."

"Piece of Cake?" Phoenix quietly asked, looking towards Miles, who smirked.

"A children's musical cooking show from around ten years ago."

What's with Maya and kids' shows?!

When everyone had gotten their autographs, Armando clapped to get their attention.

"Now, as much as I hate to break up such a joyous occasion... Miss Hall has a movie set to get to, and Miles must prepare for practice. I expect to see the three of you there as well."

Iris, Adrian, and Franziska nodded. They all said their goodbyes, which included forcing a few hugs on a very embarrassed Miles, before they followed Franziska back out of the building. She did turn around, just once, to warn Miles that he had better not let his guard down. Within minutes, Miles was alone with his new coach and conductor. He avoided looking at him.

"I'll remain here and practice, if you don't mind. I'd like to make a good first impression on the others," Miles said carefully. Armando nodded. He seemed to be paying attention only halfway. He stared into the empty distance with a smile that was a bit sad, like one that Phoenix had sported not long ago.

"How do you know Miss Fey?"

Miles flinched.

"Maya? Er... I met her at my place of employment. I met Phoenix first, though."

"Does she seem happy to you?"

"...Yes? She's always cheerful."

"True, but... cheerful and happy are not necessarily the same thing."

Miles didn't reply. He was unsure how to. Armando gave him a final shoulder pat as he turned to leave, stopping for only the briefest of moments to say one last thing:

"You've found yourself a fine group. ...Look out for her."

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To say that the orchestra was an odd bunch would be both an understatement and a disservice.

The percussion girl was a total clutz. Everyone called her "lady luckless", and Miles found it to be an appropriate nickname within minutes of meeting her. Destruction followed her like her own shadow. Miles didn't doubt that it had cost the orchestra a good sum of money to repair her damages.

The flutists were a pair of girls, both brunettes. One was clearly a thrill-seeker and a shopaholic, while the other was quiet with a terrifying aura. Doug Swallow, the oboe player, warned Miles in a hushed tone that Viola's family had mafia connections.

The tuba was played by a frail little man, so visibly weak that Miles wondered how he even held the instrument. He mumbled or screeched— nothing in between— and seemed to have a crush on one of the flutists. It was a shame that she didn't notice.

Most notable, though (only because he made it impossible to ignore him) was the loud-mouthed trumpet player with an ego to rival Franziska's. He seemed to think of her as his rival and his only equal while she treated him like an annoying fly— which is to say that she either ignored him, shooed him away, or suddenly lashed out at him as if trying to squash him. Every time he'd laugh like it was a game and continue to conduct an invisible symphony with the baton in his hand.

With all of the strange personalities clashing, it was no surprise that the orchestra members bickered a fair amount. A single word from Armando would usually stop the fights from escalating, but it was still a bit of a jumbled mess— a tangle of chaos and laughter.

For all of their disagreements, though, the orchestra seemed to agree on one thing: they were happy to have Miles and were happy to be rid of Richard Wellington.

"The pianist is supposed to play with and complement the orchestra, not compete against it," the cocky boy said. He stopped smiling, and stopped moving his baton, and suddenly looked very serious. "He was talented, but he didn't respect us."

"I don't like to speak ill of others..." Iris began, tentative. "...But he liked to improvise solos without warning us. Which made for an interesting performance, but it left the rest of us feeling overlooked and sad."

Miles grimaced, locking eyes with the group from the bench of his piano.

"He couldn't have been that arrogant, right?"

Adrian laughed, a scornful sound.

"He was the worst kind of showboat and elitist. His ringtone was Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and he made fun of anyone who happened to use a default tone or a pop song."

"...Wow."

It was the only response Miles could manage. The man sounded like a caricature.

"It's unfortunate, but it's part of the past now." The room fell into a reverent silence, turning to see Armando with baton in hand, standing front and center. "...A pianist is only one part of an orchestra," he explained, looking at Miles. "Mr. Wellington thought that he was the star of the show. He never understood that music is its best when everyone is in harmony. And I did what I could, but... I think that now, we'll be better. We may even make it to nationals."

He grinned, and everyone cheered until he gestured at them, with one hand, to quiet down. The orchestra members were instructed to take their seats, and then, true practice began.

It was as though everyone transformed the moment they began to play their instruments. The usually clumsy Maggey played her timpani with a delicate hand, lending just the right volume. Sebastian, a loudmouth, played a subdued and non-abrasive trumpet that sang smooth notes. The quiet Ron played a strong a steady tuba, while the frightening Viola's flute sang sweetly, giving the feel of an elegant maiden.

It was almost as if the act of creating music allowed each musician to transcend themselves and become something more. Miles understood this much— he, himself, had difficulty letting his guard down and expressing emotion, but was able to convey a great deal of feeling with his piano.

Yes, the orchestra was made up of strange and flawed people. But together, they filled in one another's gaps, and they built off of that collective to ascend to new heights. They controlled that chaos to turn it into something beautiful. And this, Miles believed, was the essence of true music— the essence of art itself.

If Armando's reaction was any way to judge, practice went well. He welcomed Miles once again and thanked him for joining them before informing the group of the next week's practices and dismissing them for the evening. As Miles had been warned, practice had exceeded its predicted time by over an hour. He was glad, now, that he hadn't told Phoenix a specific time to meet him and had simply told him he'd text him when he was ready.

Miles had no instrument to clean and pack up. The piano belonged to the school. He looked about the room and saw Adrian sitting alone. Franziska seemed to be in some kind of rush and fled the hall before Miles could speak to her. Which was odd— she'd been so loud, only hours earlier, about "challenging" him. He noticed her looking at her phone screen as she walked briskly away.

Left with no other familiar faces, Miles decided that he would finish his earlier question to Adrian. He took the chair beside her.

"I was interrupted when I tried to ask you earlier. Where is it that I recognize you from? I've seen your face elsewhere. I know it, somehow."

Adrian smiled mischievously,

"I'm surprised that you recognize me at all. It's been so long, and I don't have a terrible bob or thick black-framed glasses anymore."

She, unlike most people, was able to laugh at her younger self. Miles tried picturing the girl she described, and still, he couldn't quite place her.

"...I'm terribly sorry. I know that the memory is there, but I can't quite recall."

Adrian shrugged.

"As I said— it's no issue at all. There's no need to apologize. Well..." she paused and readjusted the clip holding her hair back as she stared at the ceiling. "Try instead to remember when you studied in Paris, five years ago. Does that ring any bells?"

Miles widened his eyes.

He did remember Paris— that fancy musician's academy, where he and Franziska had studied together for six months. He'd been forced to learn French rather quickly because none of the staff spoke any English. He remembered that place's marble halls and crystal chandeliers, and he remembered how strictly everything was segregated by gender. He remembered stuffy classical instructors obsessed with posture who would smack a student across the knuckles with a ruler for improper finger positioning.

And most of all, he remembered thirteen-year-old Franziska Von Karma suddenly focusing her intense competitive energy on someone else— on a quiet, withdrawn blonde girl, one who kept the company of the rich and popular girls by day and read or daydreamed alone on the balcony by night.

Miles had wondered a few times over the years, whenever he was feeling sentimental and reflecting on old memories, what had become of that pretty viola player. It seemed that he had found his answer. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"...And so the world shrinks even further. I barely recognized you!"

"It's by design this time, I assure you," Adrian promised him. "When it came time for us to part, she asked where she could find me. I told her I planned to attend Ivy U even if my parents didn't approve. And she swore to follow me out here no matter what."

Adrian giggled. Were it any other woman they were speaking of, Miles would have laughed or experienced some form of secondhand embarrassment. But it was Franziska. She did everything she set her mind to.

"I didn't know she was that intent on defeating you... Though it seems you're not distraction enough to keep her from challenging me."

Adrian looked at Miles a bit condescendingly, accompanied by a smirk.

"She keeps forgetting she's supposed to be my rival."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She... Even back then, I always got the impression that what she really wanted was to be like me. She just doesn't know how to make friends." Her fond smile faded until a glare took its place. "It's not like Manfred ever taught her how. I don't blame her one bit."

Miles shuddered at the unexpected mention of the man. He was grateful for his financial support over the years, of course. But that didn't mean that he had to like the man on a personal level, did it? Uncle Ray certainly didn't. And Adrian, someone very close to the man's daughter, shared that sentiment.

"I'm glad that someone else understands her," Miles admitted. Adrian giggled, her cheeks suddenly turning very pink.

"It might just be because we met when she was so young. I mean, she was just too cute! Took herself so seriously even though she was so much younger than everyone else... I thought it was adorable." She fiddled nervously with the clasps of her viola case. "I guess... I guess I still do."

She gave Miles a strange look that he somehow recognized. He'd seen a similar look on Phoenix, back when the store had first expanded. It made him feel a slight rush of fear— could she see through him?

Could everybody?

He'd struggled, for so long now, to deny his attractions. He didn't understand how someone like Ema could be so bold as to wear a button everywhere that practically announced it. A large part of him hated the urges that he felt and wished, more than just about anything, that they would go away.

Maybe that was only Von Karma's influence on him, he thought with a grimace.

Adrian left shortly afterwards, still strangely cheerful, leaving Miles nearly alone. He pulled out his phone and began to type out a message.

Billy Joel: I'm leaving practice just now. Be at my dorm in 20 minutes, will you? I'd like a little bit of time to change into something more comfortable.

The response was almost immediate, like Phoenix had, in fact, been staring at his phone and waiting.

Phoenix "Nick" Wright: Can't wait! :D See you soon. I wanna hear all about practice, okay?
Billy Joel: Study first. Story time afterwards.
Phoenix "Nick" Wright: Alright, alright. I'll meet you on time, I promise. :)

Miles smiled at the messages for a moment before he shook the expression from his features, a nearly angry motion. Phoenix (Nick?) was kind. To a fault, even. Miles had never felt more deeply understood.

But some things, surely, are too good to be true. It, like all good things, would pass.

...Right?

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"I-It's, uh, a nice place you've got here."

"You've been here twice before. ...No, three times."

"I-I know that! But, um..."

Miles shook his head and put up a hand that said stop.

"You don't have to be so nervous. I don't bite. ...Usually." He smirked. It took Phoenix too long to react— he still wasn't used to Miles making jokes.

Miles made a good host. He'd been waiting to answer the door when Phoenix arrived, and he'd prepared beverages and snacks that he had laid out on the coffee table. Including, of course, Oreos. Phoenix idly wondered if Miles would make a good stay-at-home husband. He dismissed the thought as soon as he felt his cheeks redden and desperately grabbed for an Oreo just so that he'd have something to do with his hands. Miles, meanwhile, seemed to be spreading out all of his notes.

Phoenix had never been in a study group before, and he'd certainly never had a study buddy. He had no idea what the process entailed. All he knew was that being in Miles' room with him, alone, and in such close proximity was going to make it difficult for him to focus on anything, let alone something as boring as homework. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted by all of that, though. He began to pull his textbooks out of his brand new bag.

"Your audition was really something," he mumbled to himself. Miles didn't respond, and Phoenix had expected that. Phoenix stopped when his eye caught sight of a small wooden box. "Is that a chess set?"

"Are you capable of focusing on a task?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Miles sighed, but it sounded a bit forced, like he was having trouble feigning annoyance.

"It is a chess set," he confirmed. "Franziska taught me how to play when she was twelve." Phoenix laughed. It didn't surprise him in the least. "Can you play?" he asked, sounding a bit hopeful.

"I can play Go."

"I see. Is it difficult?"m

"It is. ...There's a whole manga series about it. Hikaru something-or-other."

"Maybe I can teach you to play chess in exchange for you teaching me how to play Go. I'm always open to a new challenge."

You're a real intellectual, Phoenix thought, grinning. He was unable to mask his excitement at the idea.

Miles only got to explain, very briefly, his method of taking and organizing notes before Phoenix felt his phone vibrate. He blushed as he read the texts flying in from one of his group chats.

Mayo: U have to jump on the opportunity while u have it!!! Ur alone together!!!
Mayo: Ur probably not a great seducer tho...
Mayo: Is seducer a word??? Ur a guy so I can't call u a seductress
Science Skye: I have an idea! It's foolproof!
Science Skye: Tell him you need a nude model 4 your life drawing class
Science Skye: It'll at least get you past step 1
Mayo: Step 1 isn't getting nakey!!! Step 1 is smooching, and Nick hasn't even done that yet!!!
Science Skye: WELL THEN TELL HIM YOU NEED 2 PRACTICE KISSING 4 YOUR DRAMA CLASS
Mayo: IT'S PERFECT????
Mayo: EMA SKYE YOU ARE A GENIUS
Science Skye: Thanks! I try~

"Is something wrong?" Miles asked, probably in response to Phoenix's nervous beads of sweat.

"It's nothing," he replied too quickly. His fingers flew across the keys.

Nickelodeon: Leave me alone! We're trying to study
Mayo: PFFFT
Mayo: Operation study buddies has nothing to do with studying
Nickelodeon: Then A- that's a very misleading name
Nickelodeon: And B- I never signed up for any operation!
Nickelodeon: Both of you leave us be, got it?!

Phoenix waited, glaring at his phone. He knew Maya's tactics by now. Sure enough, a new message popped up.

Butt: So are you guys banging or

Phoenix sighed.

Prickles: Why do you need to know?!
Butt: um
Butt: science?
Prickles: Who put you up to this?
Butt: Maya
Prickles: Thought so. All 3 of you back off!
Prickles: AND NO RECRUITING ANYONE ELSE
Butt: oh ok we're killing the mood. got it.
Butt: ;D

Phoenix didn't bother to reply to Larry's implications. He felt a surge of panic when he looked up to find Miles staring, fearing he'd been able to read the messages.

"You still have that?"

Phoenix looked at the little hedgehog affixed to his cell phone and suddenly felt like an idiot.

"U-Uh, yeah. You probably got rid of yours..."

"I did no such thing. It's a guardian angel, remember?"

Phoenix stared in awe, and then he smiled, trying to avoid turning red.

He had given Miles a good luck charm, after all.

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"I... suppose it's because I have a lot to live up to."

"O-Oh. ...That makes sense."

Several hours had passed, and Phoenix and Miles were now finished studying. Miles had taught Phoenix some faster and more organized ways to take notes, as well as the proper method for studying with flashcards. Phoenix had a bit of a talent for making up songs and rhymes to remember things (he'd had to resort to such things after years of forgetfulness), and he'd taught Miles some of his methods.

With everything packed up and put away and overcome by a sudden rush of fatigue, Phoenix had taken the opportunity to ask Miles a question he'd had for a while: Why are you so private about your writing as opposed to your music?

The answer had more or less been what he'd expected.

"The person who hears me play the most is Uncle Ray. Anything else is the same... If I wanted feedback, I would go to him. But he edited my father's work. My father was a professional. He was talented. I don't want him to get his hopes up just to be disappointed in my work compared to my father's."

"I doubt that would happen. Besides, the worst thing that could happen is that you get some constructive criticism, right? Which would only make you better."

Miles sighed.

"Maybe you're right. But... I suppose a part of me doesn't want to let my father down. And if I were to do it professionally, I'd have to worry about the expectations of his fans... I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying."

He glared at his empty plate of snacks. Phoenix watched him and worked up his courage.

"Could I read something you wrote? You've got me curious."

"No."

Phoenix feigned offense. In reality, he was amused by his complete lack of hesitation.

"Why not?!"

Miles laughed a dry, haughty sort of chuckle, something between a laugh and a scoff.

"Fine, we'll try this for comparison. Can I see inside of your sketchbook?"

"Uh—"

Phoenix gulped. He only had one sketchbook on him at the moment, and it was probably best that Miles not see what was inside of that one.

"N-No," Phoenix stammered. "You can't."

"Precisely. Don't be a hypocrite."

I'd let you see it if it wasn't full of drawings of you, Phoenix didn't say.

"A-Anyway... Maybe you should talk to Ray about it. Or maybe you should try reading some of your dad's old stuff. There's no point in majoring in Creative Writing if you're too afraid to do anything with it, right? Your dad would have wanted you to—"

Phoenix was interrupted by the sound of a vibrating phone. Before he could shout in annoyance, wondering what his friends wanted from him now, Miles fumbled for his own phone and pulled it from his pocket to look at it, in the process confirming that he really did still have his cell phone charm.

Miles frowned at the text message he had received.

"That's strange," he mumbled.

"What is it?"

"It's Adrian. She says she's messaging everyone just to be sure. You'll likely receive a message in a moment."

As if on cue, Phoenix's phone buzzed. He held the screen up to look at it, and was greeted by the only contact that he hadn't assigned a silly nickname to. Mostly because he'd been unable to think of one, but also because it just didn't suit her.

Adrian: Have you seen Fran? Did she seem okay to you?

Phoenix raised a concerned eyebrow, looking fearfully over at Miles, who was still typing. Phoenix took advantage of his being busy.

Nick: Sorry, I haven't. Is something wrong with her?
Adrian: That's what I wanted to know... I just hope it isn't something that I did. She's not answering my messages anymore. She said she's too busy right now to talk.
Nick: Wait, what happened? Did you have a fight?

A long pause. Phoenix looked at the three dots that indicated a message being typed, and they seemed representative of Adrian's hesitation.

Her response shocked Phoenix and Miles both.

Adrian: She's in the process of moving out of our dorm.

This time, Miles met his eyes when Phoenix looked at him. Miles shook his head, saying silently that he didn't know anything, that Franziska had given him no indication of plans to move.

"I'll try and talk to her when I can," Miles said quietly. Phoenix nodded.

Nick: I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what she's thinking. But Miles has known her longer than any of the rest of us, and he says he'll talk to her when he can, okay? Maybe she just needs some space.
Adrian: I hope it's something that simple. I think it's her father. She just asked him about all that money...
Adrian: Thanks for trying to help. I'll talk to you later.

"How weird," Phoenix breathed.

There was a sinking feeling of dread in his gut, even if there were plenty of supposedly rational explanations. He truly did hope that it wasn't anything serious. He did wonder, though, what Adrian knew about Manfred Von Karma that he didn't— what made her conclude that it was his doing.

"...It's getting late," Miles said, still looking at his phone. Phoenix glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already nearly eleven.

"I guess it is. We can, uh, pick this up another time." Phoenix stood, grabbing his bag as he did.

"Wait."

Miles' voice stopped him halfway to the door. Phoenix turned to face him, and Miles stood, approaching him rather quickly. Phoenix felt his heart rate steadily increasing.

"Y-yeah?"

"Here."

Miles casually placed a key in his hand.

"...What's this?"

Miles clicked his tongue condescendingly.

"A dorm key, clearly. In case you forget anything, or need to get here before I can. I don't want to leave someone standing in the hallway."

Phoenix gulped.

"O-Oh. Okay, I guess... I'll take it." He slid it into his pocket, where he kept his other keys, and smiled at the other man. "See ya tomorrow, okay?"

"...Right. Good night."

Miles closed the door behind Phoenix as he left. Phoenix skipped down the halls all the way to his dorm, feeling like the key in his pocket filled his entire body with warmth.

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A/N: *loud chanting* EMA NYE THE SCIENCE SKYE
but seriously i love including goofy conversations, especially text convos, because you can mimic people's unique emojis and text styles and everything, and my fave part is coming up with the phone nicknames. apparently that's a thing the kids do these days... my sister puts like four hundred emojis after every contact name, and now my mom does the same thing.
introducing a ton of cameo characters! in case anyone couldn't tell, the timid orchestra guy is ron delite and his crush is desiree, obviously before they got married. there's also sebastian debeste and doug swallow (not dead) and violetta cadverini and maggey byrde, but those were named or obvious. and richard wellington, a very infrequently used character, as the douchey former pianist. there will be some more cameos like these in the future! :D i feel it lends to a more fleshed-out alternate universe.