sing us a song, you're the piano man / sing us a song tonight
'cause we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feeling alright

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

It was about two in the afternoon, and Larry huddled at a table with Maya. The table had an extra chair pulled up, and Maya rested her feet on it. It was the café on the corner of the street near the bookstore, one that Maya had been frequenting lately. She'd rushed Larry in all of a sudden, ordered a strange kind of tea (and a sandwich with some chips for him), and shoved them into this corner table.

"...What exactly are we doing here?"

Larry asked the question in a whisper, looking around the room for some kind of hint. Maya's eyes were fixed on the door, occasionally shifting to the clock on the wall. Her hands gripped her receipt slip and a pen.

"We're waiting. He should get here in about three minutes." Maya was whispering, too, even though there was almost no one else around.

"Who should be here?"

Maya snorted at him, looking more offended than she ever had.

"We decided we would be wingmen, remember? Did you forget our commitment to Nick?! I've been doing more than enough work, but I don't think I can get any further on my own! We need to ambush him in a casual setting— he has no reason to refuse, he always sits here for at least half an hour!"

Larry blinked as he took it all in, embarrassed at how long it took him to process it.

"H-Hold on, are we waiting for that cashier?"

"Of course we are! He eats his lunch here at this time every day, and he almost always orders Ceylon tea and a turkey sandwich on wheat with swiss and extra lettuce!"

It was odd that Miles kept up his workday routine when he didn't have to, but he did strike Maya as a man of habit. Not that Miles wasn't working— it seemed that, with the store closed for renovation, he spent more time working. She had run into him and Uncle Ray near the store, and they both said there was a lot of inventory to do now that they'd have more space. Ray had to direct the movers, and Miles signed for packages and filled out paperwork. It had been a busy week, and maybe Miles needed stability to keep from being overwhelmed.

"...No chips?" Larry wondered after a moment. "And extra lettuce?"

"Is that what you should be focusing on?!"

Just then, Larry saw him over Maya's shoulder— the object of their friend's affections. For whatever reason, he wasn't sporting his glasses. He stood in the doorway for about half a second until he registered Maya, and his expression changed. To what, Larry couldn't tell.

"Act cool and let me do most of the talking," Maya hissed at him, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. She then perked up, waving a whole arm at Miles.

"Miss Maya... Mr. Butz." Larry couldn't help but notice that his name was said with a hint of disdain.

"Miles! Wow, what a crazy coincidence! Hey, do you wanna eat lunch with us? Of course you do— come and join us once you get your food!"

Maya removed her feet from the chair, and there was suddenly enough room that Miles couldn't use that as an excuse. He looked between her and the entrance for a moment, almost as if he were contemplating escape, and then gave in.

"...I-I suppose it can't hurt... Let me get my usual. I'll be with you shortly."

Miles turned on his heel and walked to the counter in one fluid motion, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his pants. Larry turned to Maya and hunched over to whisper.

"Y'know, I think Nick does have a type, between this guy and Iris. Iris', y'know, being a girl put aside."

"Oh? And what's his type?"

"The graceful type. They've both got that elegance about them, y'know?"

"...Yeah, I guess you're right! Though... Miles is a lot harder to read. He's also shy, but in a different way. When have you talked to him?"

"Oh, I've only ever caught him at the store. I think he doesn't like me very much. I always just end up rambling about girls, trying to get him to tell me what he likes."

"Aaaaaaah. Trying to see if it is girls."

"...I think he thinks I'm hitting on him."

Maya stifled her laughter with her sleeve, as Miles was turning back around, carefully approaching the table so as not to spill the contents of his little tray. He paused at the table, glancing nervously at Larry, and finally set down his food and took a seat in the chair. He didn't move the chair forward, instead remaining at an awkward distance.

"...Hello," Miles said, and the word sounded garbled. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs in an almost dainty fashion.

"Hi!" Maya chirped. "It's always super nice to chat with you!"

"Yeah, uh— hey, man. Never seen you outside the store!" Larry added, embarrassed at how whiny his voice sounded. Miles frowned.

"...Yes. It's... Nice to see you. Both of you."

Maya looked the disgruntled cashier over with a victorious gleam in her eye, and saw Larry wink at her not-so-subtly. Miles studied the two of them closely, putting two and two together. It was amazing how uncomfortable a person could look simply sitting down for tea.

"...You two are friends," he said, not a question, but a confirmation of a suspicion. Maya nodded. "Perhaps I should have assumed so, as it would be very strange for two completely unrelated people to insist on talking to me."

Miles paused for a moment, and as he did Maya saw a flicker of curiosity pass through his eyes, followed by a spark of realization. She knew what he was going to say before he said it. She shot Larry a warning glance. Don't say anything, I'll handle it.

"The two of you wouldn't happen to know a spiky-haired art student—"

"So I've been meaning to ask— where do you go to school? I can tell by your habits that you're a college student too!"

Miles blinked at the interruption to his train of thought (and wondered where she had gotten that idea, not knowing that she was only parroting what she'd heard from Phoenix), but didn't seem too suspicious. The question demanded an answer, and it was too abrupt a demand for him to continue theorizing while he turned his attention to the conversation. Maya made sure not to release an audible breath of relief.

"Too? You hardly look old enough to be in college."

"I got my high school degree early from home. I'm eighteen, I'm just small! This year will be my second. Larry and I go to Ivy University."

"That's a good school." Miles, to Maya's surprise, didn't look terribly impressed. She didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. "I go to Prestige. This'll be my third year."

Larry whistled, and Maya raised a brow and hummed. Prestige was as nice of a school as its name implied.

"That's pretty hard to get into, isn't it?" Larry asked. Miles only shrugged.

"I was only interested in the orchestra. The university is supposed to be the best in the area in terms of its music program."

Miles quirked a brow at Maya as she hastily scribbled something down on the back of her receipt. Maya hid it behind her cup so that he couldn't see it. Prestige, Third Year. Plays in orchestra.

"I'm gonna be a third year, too. I mostly sculpt. What instrument do you play?" Larry asked.

"...I didn't take you for an artist. I play the piano and the flute—"

"TWO INSTRUMENTS?!" Maya interrupted, so shocked that she almost forgot to write it down. Almost. She wrote it in a messy scrawl. When she looked back up, Miles' shoulders were almost comically stiffened, raised in a way that looked not at all natural.

"...I'm more advanced with the piano, but, yes, two instruments."

Miles took a sip of his tea that seemed to relax his shoulders, and Larry winced just looking at it. Isn't that still really hot? Miles didn't even seem to register the heat, drinking it as casually as one would a glass of water. To Larry's horror, Maya imitated him. It must be a tea person thing, he thought, looking sheepishly down at his water.

Miles released a long sigh as he placed his cup back down, and Larry couldn't help but notice that he actually put his pinkie out when gripping the handle. He stifled a giggle at this, and Maya shot him a glare, but the quivering corner of her lip betrayed that she had noticed as well.

"I'm studying pottery and ceramics, mostly. I have to be the next head of the Fey clan, after all!"

Miles froze, his eyes wide and his jaw slightly agape. At last! An emotion other than vague annoyance or discomfort! Maya clenched her fists so that she wouldn't pump them in the air.

"The Fey clan? As in the artisans?" Miles asked. Maya beamed. It was rare for people she wasn't introduced to by way of the art circles to know about her clan, but Miles was apparently a fan of the arts himself. That, or he was just well-informed on the region's cultural history. Either way, she was pleased.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm surprised you've heard of us!"

"But of course I've heard of you. Do I strike you as uncultured?!" Maya noted that Miles sounded nearly offended, and he lowered his lids like he was showing off how long his eyelashes were. He looked terribly haughty like that, but she did have to admit that he looked like a well-learned kind of guy. "...In all seriousness, I do admire your clan's work. Pottery and ceramics are two of those art forms that look deceptively simple."

Maya pounded her fists against the table in rapturous agreement. Miles flinched.

"Yeah!! Not just anybody can craft an exquisite urn!!" Maya's voice was loud enough that the other customers nearby turned to look at her. Larry gestured at her to quiet down, even if he couldn't help but grin.

Miles blinked at her for a moment, not saying anything. His brow went slack. It seemed that Maya's enthusiasm had disarmed him. And then, for the first time, the two of them finally saw it— his smile. And in that brief moment, Maya understood exactly what Phoenix had seen in him.

There was an unbelievable softness in that little smile, something warm but repressed in his grey eyes. Like he was someone with a lot of love to give that simply didn't know how to give it— perhaps because he hadn't received enough of it himself, or perhaps because it had been so suddenly snatched away from him that he'd forgotten what it looked like. Maya found herself caught off guard, and she forgot her train of thought. She looked frantically at Larry, and, thankfully, he understood.

"U-uh, I've tried pottery myself. I thought it would be easy because I'm a sculptor, y'know? And boy, was I wrong! Way more complicated than it looks." Larry finished Maya's thoughts for her, though he had to admit that even he was taken aback by the tenderness in the other man's smile. He scratched at the back of his neck, waiting for Maya to recover.

Miles' expression faded, but the softness in his features didn't. He sipped from his teacup once more, and it seemed to anyone looking at him that the hot liquid warmed his very soul. Maybe teatime really was the best time to talk to him.

"I've found with the arts that the hardest thing to do is make something simultaneously simple and pleasant. It's a shockingly difficult balance to achieve, and takes a great deal of skill. Music is like that... I oftentimes fail to convey an emotion because I'm trying too hard, being too technical. And then some rookie will come along and play a simple tune that captures everything I had failed to." The smile returned, though he wasn't looking at anything in particular, and this one seemed self-deprecating somehow. Maya shook her head.

"I'm sure you play beautifully! ...E-especially if your music is anything like your speech," she replied a bit awkwardly, forcing a lopsided grin. Miles let out a low chuckle under his breath, more of a hum than a laugh.

"...Hey, I noticed you said that Prestige's music program is supposed to be the best in the area. Does that mean that it isn't?" Larry asked. Maya gaped at him. How had he picked up on a detail that she had let slip by her unnoticed?!

Miles' expression darkened again, the familiar crease returning to the space between his brows. Maya felt her heart sink a little at that. She missed the vulnerability she'd been allowed to see, as short-lived as it had been.

"It is not a bad program by any means, but it suffers from the sort of problem I was just describing. It's entirely too technical. All they care about are numbers and ticket sales. They don't work with people's individual strengths, they treat the sheet music like the unshakeable word of god, and no one pushes any boundaries. It's the kind of music that critics praise, but it's never moved anyone to tears, that much I can promise you." His voice was bitter, and even a bit loud, like he'd been holding this particular criticism back for so long that it spilled out without him meaning it to. Larry whistled, and then leaned forward to rest his weight on the table.

"Y'know, Ivy U doesn't boast its art department, but I think it's one of the best around. We have a few friends in the orchestra, and while it's not as big or fancy as something like what Prestige's got, they're a really creative and tight-knit group. Sometimes they even perform pieces composed by students," Larry explained. Miles looked up at him, his eyes widening slightly.

"...They perform student pieces? That's... Unusual. Unheard of, really."

Miles bit his lip and looked down at the teacup that was now clenched too tightly in his fingers. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, and in that moment of doubt, Maya saw an opening— a golden oppurtunity.

God, is Nick going to owe me one.

"You should transfer to Ivy U!!"

Larry was just as alarmed by the suggestion as Miles was. Miles nearly spat out his tea, and he put the cup down to dab at his mouth with a napkin. Larry's mouth hung open wide.

That wasn't part of the plan, his eyes said.

Well, I have a better plan, hers said back.

"I-It's a bit late to be requesting a transfer... The paperwork and fees would be a nightmare." Miles didn't reject the idea outright, and that was enough encouragement for Larry to jump on board. "I-I mean, I was offered a full scholarship there as well, but..."

"Well, hey, you're smart! You've made that much obvious. You can handle it, and it'd be much closer to the store!" Larry argued.

"Yeah, and Uncle Ray would love having you study somewhere closer, wouldn't he?!" Maya asked. Miles furrowed his brow further.

"When exactly did you speak to my Uncle?"

Maya kept the conversation going so Miles wouldn't have time to be too suspicious of just how far her meddling had gone, or worse— figure out the connection between them and Phoenix. Phoenix had been insistent on not being too direct with him, as he didn't want to come across as creepy.

"You should study somewhere that's fulfilling for you, where you can achieve your full potential. At least tell me you'll consider it," Maya pleaded, and Miles' annoyance wavered for a moment. He looked at his teacup, and then took a long sip, afterwards letting out a string of muttered sentences that neither of them could hear. Maya figured that he was talking to himself.

"...I should be going," Miles said, glancing at the clock. Maya turned to confirm that it had, in fact, already been a half hour, and felt a pang of guilt that Miles hadn't so much as touched his sandwich. "There's a fridge at work, I can save it for later," he added. Maya laughed nervously, and Miles gulped down the last of his tea before abruptly standing to leave the table.

"Oh, the store is reopening tomorrow, isn't it?! I'll see you there sometime soon!" Maya declared.

"Uh, see you later, then! Think about it, okay?" Larry called out after Miles as he hurriedly returned his teacup and left the café, his uneaten sandwich wrapped in a napkin and clutched awkwardly in his hand. "...Not exactly the easiest guy to talk to," he added as soon as Miles was gone. Maya nodded.

"Well, he may have acted all stiff, but he didn't reject the idea. That's good enough for now."

Maya flashed a dazzling grin at Larry, and for a moment he worried that he, too, was far too caught up in all of this.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"Listen to me! I know what I'm talking about on this one, okay? I'm trying to help you!"

Ema threw down her notebook. Phoenix folded his arms, but sat still in his chair.

"I'm listening," he grumbled. He was almost certain that he would regret it.

"Okay," Ema replied. "That's good. Because it'll work, I promise." She sat down across from Phoenix at his kitchen table and leaned in. He imitated her, feeling like they were planning a bank robbery.

Ever since he'd announced his crush, Phoenix's friends had become his wingmen. He hadn't, however, predicted how seriously they would take it. He suspected that both Maya and Larry were trying to siphon information from Miles, and Ema had been compiling a list of tips for him to follow in order to get Miles' attention.

Unfortunately, the girl took too many things at face value. As a scientific type, she thought that "researching romance" meant reading things that pandered to lovestruck teenagers. She'd gotten most of her tips from magazines, or from blogs that took horoscopes seriously. Phoenix was exhausted from arguing with her, and had resigned himself to listening to her advice.

"Common interests," she said. Phoenix raised an eyebrow. This tip, so far, sounded normal.

"You didn't get this one out of Cosmo, did you?"

Ema rolled her eyes and didn't answer.

"Now, frankly, I wouldn't have to say this to a normal person. It would just be common sense. But you're SO romantically clueless that I'm sure it'll be news to you." Phoenix tried opening his mouth to protest. Ema didn't leave him enough space to do so. "People notice when you pay attention to them, when you notice the little things. Miles works at a bookstore. He likes books, right?"

"He did say that everyone who works there loves books, and that they get special access to them," Phoenix recalled.

"There, see? Talk about books. If you see him reading one and you've heard of it or read it, strike up a conversation! Ask him what he thought of it! It'll let him know that you actually care what he has to say. And, besides..." Ema trailed off for a second, her expression far-off and dreamy. "We book lovers can talk about books for hours. Easily. And in the course of that conversation you'll learn a lot about that reader. A person's favorite books are a window into their soul! If you REALLY wanna get to know the guy on a deeper level, get him talking about his favorite books."

Phoenix nodded. That sounded doable. He'd read and loved plenty of books in his day, after all. A well-told story inspired him to draw or paint. It occurred to him just then that if someone got him talking about art, he could probably ramble about it for hours.

Perhaps the arts simply have that effect on people, he thought.

"I can do that... I can do that! Thanks, Ema. I don't know why that didn't occur to me."

Ema laughed and shook her head.

"I'm just doing another book lover a favor. You said you're gonna see him this evening, right? The store is open again?"

"Yeah," Phoenix replied. "Maya told me not to stop by too early. I wanna look like I'm interested, but not desperate."

Ema packed up her things as Phoenix explained. She seemed in a hurry to get somewhere. He raised an eyebrow at her when she turned to look at him, one of her hands already on the doorknob.

"M-My sister," she said sheepishly. "She wants me to come with her to a literary conference thing. I mean, I like books, so it's no big deal, but..."

"No, it's fine," Phoenix interjected. Ema didn't have to explain the complications in her relationship with her sister. He already knew them quite well. "Have a good time, okay? Try not to overthink it."

Ema could only offer a nervous smile.

"I'll try."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Phoenix noticed a bell ringing when he next entered Vintage Volumes. That was a new addition. It caught the attention of the girl behind the counter— not the person he had hoped to see. But, then, it was later in the day. The sun was setting. He'd decided to try getting a drink and reading in the new sitting area, and something about doing so in the early evening appealed to his romanticism.

He took a moment to take in the new store. The overall look of it was the same, but updated and modernized. It seemed that Uncle Ray had decided to sell off most of the old furniture and get nicer things.

The two armchairs had been replaced with four plush red ones and two small matching couches. They were arranged in mirrored semi-circles that framed an electric fireplace floating in the middle of the room, attached not to a wall, but to a column of tan stacked stone. Each side of the column allowed a view of the crackling flames and a mounted flat-screen, both of which were set to the local news station. Each sitting area had a coffee table already piled high with magazines.

As before, the sitting area had wooden floors, but now the section extended to the café counter. A few employees lounged there as they waited for orders. There was a menu affixed to the wall above, and in front of the counter were several stools.

The store had kept its bookshelves, though they'd polished them and purchased more of them. They were now labeled with plates affixed to the sides instead of handwritten notes. Phoenix noticed new sections for video games and DVDS. In the back of the store were all of the display cases, and in between was a stage with chairs arranged around it. It looked like it could fit a quintet. Phoenix also noted the piano in the corner, one larger than the one in the upstairs apartment, and wondered if that was mostly for Miles' benefit.

Had the buildings always been this big? Even with the new additions, nothing seemed cramped. It was nearly lavish now. Even the front desk was larger and noticeably more shiny than it had been before. Phoenix was pleased to notice that Miles had apparently changed Uncle Ray's mind and convinced him to get a modern cash register and a barcode scanner. There was also a computer. It would surely make Miles' job easier.

"Welcome to our second grand opening! How can I help you?" The voice startled Phoenix out of his observations, and the girl laughed. Her name was Kay, he remembered. "I know, it's pretty amazing. Uncle Ray really outdid himself."

"You call him Uncle Ray?" Phoenix asked, quirking an eyebrow. Kay snickered.

"Sure, everyone does! So, what can I do for you?"

"He wants the art books," another voice piped up. Phoenix jumped again. Kay seemed to be enjoying his fright. "Maybe he'd be interested in the new manga section?"

"Miles? Where are you?!"

"I'm on the couch."

Phoenix gulped and took a breath to steady himself before approaching the sitting area. Miles was lounging on the the end of the couch nearest the door. Phoenix laughed as he sat on the armchair furthest from him. Miles offered a polite smile and a nod, which Phoenix returned with a too-eager grin.

Miles looked thoroughly exhausted, but at the moment, he seemed to be relaxing. He had a book laid across his lap, and a teacup on the coaster sat on the table in front of him.

"Ah— it's Ceylon tea. The aroma of citrus does wonders for concentration, you know."

Phoenix wiggled in delight. He had guessed correctly— Miles was a tea person. Not only that, he used words like aroma when describing tea. He'd have to jot that detail about citrus down somewhere so that Miles knew he was paying attention. Just then, he recalled Ema's advice and took a peek at the spine of Miles' book.

Unfortunately, he didn't know it. The cover looked well-worn. He guessed that Miles reread it frequently. Night on the Galactic Railroad and other Stories of Ihatov. Phoenix thought that he knew the author's name, but he couldn't quite remember. He supposed there was no harm in asking.

"S-So what are you reading there?"

Miles hadn't expected the question. He visibly snapped out of his reading trance and then clutched the small book, somewhat protectively, closer to his body.

"Ah, it's, um..." He trailed off, like he did when he was uncertain whether to divulge something or not. "It's my favorite book. It has been since I was young. It's a Japanese classic, so there are always different translations to read. I do tend to favor this one."

"Japan, huh? I'm part Japanese myself," Phoenix replied. Miles looked at him curiously, studying his face with an eyebrow raised. It was like he was taking in his features with a renewed interest.

"Are you?"

"Yep! A little bit on both sides of my family. More so on my mom's, though, hence the American name. ...Anyway, I've never heard of that book before. What's it about?"

Miles looked strangely into the distance as he searched for a simple answer.

"It's about... the meaning of life and death, and the afterlife." He left it at that. Phoenix made up his mind to buy a copy and read it himself. He decided to stay on this course, as he was already finding some success in it.

"...So, what's one of your other favorite books? I know you can't pick just one."

Miles chuckled knowingly at that, but looked like he wanted to blush.

"You'll think I'm strange."

"I won't, I promise!"

"...Roald Dahl's Matilda."

Phoenix beamed. He could do this. He knew the book. He liked the book, and he very clearly remembered the movie. Send Me on my Way began playing in his head, causing him to smile.

"Oh, Matilda! God, I loved that book," Phoenix began. He had an idea of what to say. Miles perked up. It seemed he'd never gotten this response.

"...You do?"

"Yeah, totally! It does such a great job of speaking to kids, or to your inner child, without being condescending, you know? And I like the message about family." Phoenix paused, the gears turning in his head as he realized why Miles liked the book so much. "...A-About how family is made up of the people who love you. Sometimes people's relatives treat them like garbage, and it's terrible that we tell kids they owe those people something just because of blood. ...B-but, uh, I'm getting carried away—"

"No," Miles interrupted. "...You're right." He smiled, that genuine smile that Phoenix got to see so rarely. His heart soared.

Ema was right, it seemed. A person's favorite books usually had a lot to do with their life experiences. Miles loved Matilda (besides the fact that the protagonist was a quiet and bookish child) because he had been raised by a man he called his "Uncle" but was not biologically related to. But did they have to be related to be family? Phoenix certainty didn't think so. Neither did Miles... and neither did Roald Dahl.

When Phoenix stood to get his shopping done, he took advantage of the fact that Miles wasn't ringing up his purchases. He searched the shelves until he found a copy of the book Miles had been reading and put it in his basket. It was short enough that he could read it in a single evening, and he was certain that he would understand Miles better when he did. He also perused the manga section and settled on one that he remembered his mother getting for him when he was younger.

Kay winked at him when she noticed what he was buying. Apparently, she had been eavesdropping on the conversation. Phoenix blushed, worried that she was going to embarrass him by announcing it, but she kept it to herself. He hid his purchases in his paper bag and walked to the café counter. There, he settled on a sweet latte, the kind that coffee people turned up their noses at, and a pastry that he could eat without getting crumbs everywhere.

Miles was still seated by the time he returned to the sitting area, but he was reading a different book this time and jotting down notes. Phoenix recognized it from his required reading list in high school and assumed it was part of Miles' extra credit work.

"So I've been figurin' about them rabbits," Phoenix said through a mouthful of pastry. Miles actually laughed.

Before the conversation could go any further, Phoenix heard the bell announcing more visitors. He'd heard it many times in the short time he'd been here, but this time it was accompanied by the sound of rushing feet. Phoenix froze in fear. He knew the sound of a certain oddball's geta sandals, and had a guess as to who was with her.

If you two spoil my cover, I will literally end your lives, he thought.

Maya spotted Miles first. To his horror, Phoenix noticed that it seemed she had been looking for him, and for some unearthly reason, she'd brought along Larry. Kay, at the counter, had stopped what she was doing and was sitting back to watch the show.

"Oh, hey, there you are!" Maya rushed to the couch and hopped onto the cushion nearest Miles. Larry stood behind the couch, and Miles looked up at him with an expression between annoyance and fear. He seemed less closed-off to Maya.

"Miss Maya," he said politely. "I take it you like the new decor? We have tea here now. Not as good as at the corner place, but sufficient."

Phoenix furrowed his brow. When did Maya get to know him so well? Had she been cornering him during his lunch break? And Larry—

"What's up, buddy?! Nice to see that you get to use a real register now!" Larry spoke before Phoenix had time to question his motives. It seemed that Larry had been visiting frequently enough that he knew about the register situation. How had he been coming here so often without Phoenix knowing it?

The observation seemed to disarm Miles, if only slightly.

"...It's nice. I don't have to do so many calculations anymore."

Phoenix watched anxiously as Maya and Larry talked to Miles. They made no indication that they knew him— Maya was careful not to even look in his direction. Larry threw him a wink every once in a while, but only when Maya had Miles' attention.

Eventually, Maya mentioned the stage in back.

"Oh, that? Uncle Ray wants this place to become a local center of the arts. Poetry readings, acoustic sets, that sort of thing. We desperately wish to debut it in some way, but we've had some trouble finding people," Miles explained.

Maya grinned so wide that it must have hurt her cheeks. She finally allowed herself a glance at Phoenix, one that told him exactly what she planned to do.

"What if we could get you a violin duo?! I happen to know a talented set of twins that I'm sure would love to perform here."

Phoenix got to see a new expression from Miles. His eyes widened and glistened, and his mouth fell open slightly. Phoenix couldn't help the little aww that escaped his throat.

"I-I... You could do that for us? I mean, if you could, that would be incredible. I'm sure Uncle Ray would be thrilled."

At that, the deal was sealed. Maya shook Miles' hand, swore she'd get back to him on the duet as soon as possible, and then she was off at full speed, forcing Larry to chase after her. They were gone as suddenly as they had appeared. Miles stared blankly at the door. He looked like he didn't know what he was supposed to think. He was brought back to reality by Phoenix's quiet laughter.

"What's so funny?" Miles asked, sounding accusatory. Phoenix shook his head.

"Uh, nothing. You just seemed a little overwhelmed by that girl."

"She... She's something. Between you and those two, it seems that no one will allow me to keep to myself," Miles said through a smirk. Phoenix ignored his last remark.

"How do you know them?"

"Miss Maya stops by in the early morning sometimes to look at comic books, and then she started running into me at the café on the corner. Mr. Butz..." Miles trailed off to wrinkle his nose, looking very annoyed.

"...Has he been bothering you?" Phoenix was almost afraid to ask.

"He's been trying to ask me in roundabout ways whether or not I'm gay." Miles, thankfully, didn't seem to notice the horrified choke that Phoenix released when he attempted to take a sip of his drink. "Which... is fine, I suppose? But he could have just asked me instead of constantly putting me into awkward scenarios."

Phoenix couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. ...Maybe it really would be okay to just ask him?

"Are you?" Phoenix asked as casually as he could. He'd apparently made a mistake, or taken Miles too literally, because the other man narrowed his eyes, looking very defensive.

"I'm not sure that's any of your business."

Phoenix put up his hands in a mock surrender.

"Hey, you said to ask you directly!"

Miles struggled with that for a moment.

"I did. ...Fine. I'll get back to you when I have an answer on that." He immediately looked back to his book, intentionally avoiding Phoenix's gaze. Phoenix contemplated his words for a long moment.

It seemed that Miles, himself, was not yet sure, or that he wasn't yet comfortable accepting the answer.

"Oh. ...I understand," Phoenix said quietly. He was willing to leave it at that, but Miles seemed to latch onto the statement.

"You do?"

Phoenix was a bit too aware of Miles' gaze, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, I mean... I've had questions myself." Phoenix wasn't sure what was compelling him to divulge this much. "I've had girlfriends, and I really liked one of them. I definitely 'like girls'. But sometimes... Sometimes I wonder, you know?"

Miles opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it. He seemed to mull something over for a while. Phoenix saw him shake his head as if to dismiss the idea. Then, almost as if nothing had happened, he changed the subject.

Phoenix was glad that he was still interested in talking.

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Miles visibly softened towards Phoenix after their initial conversation about books.

Their talk hadn't been especially long, but they'd somehow covered a lot. Phoenix wondered if his honesty about his sexuality had played a part in it.

Phoenix now preferred to stop by the store in the evening when he could, when he usually found Miles sitting and reading while he drank tea. He was sure of it now— Miles looked happy to see him. He was still too professional and didn't talk about himself if he could avoid it, but he was allowing friendliness to show on his face.

Phoenix had read Miles' favorite book. He didn't intend to tell him that, not yet, but it did leave him curious. It was a story about a boy coping with the death of a friend who had sacrificed his life for another. It detailed the afterlife in a way that was soothing and beautiful, but also heavily symbolic. Phoenix wondered— had Miles suffered a loss that made the book appeal to him?

This particular evening, Phoenix did his usual scan of the shelves, bought himself a book, and settled on a drink before making his way to the sitting area. He still wasn't confident enough to sit on the couch with Miles. At the moment, Miles was in one of the armchairs, so Phoenix sat on the side of the couch closest to him. Close, but not too close.

Then, a simple question.

"...You attend Ivy U, do you not?"

Phoenix didn't answer at first, as it didn't occur to him that the question could be directed at him— Miles so rarely asked details of others, and he had been convinced until now that the man hadn't been paying much attention to his ramblings. When he noticed the silence, he snapped his head up to find Miles' eyes focused on him over the rim of his teacup.

"Uh, yeah, I-I do."

"What do you know about the music department?"

"I... Actually have a few friends in the orchestra. They're all really talented, and they say the teacher is a godsend. He works with everybody's individual learning curves, and he's obsessed with his job, so he's always available for help." Phoenix repeated what he had heard from Iris and Franziska. He didn't know why Miles was asking. Miles looked into his teacup as he processed the words.

"...I was... Sort of thinking of transferring... I've found Prestige's program to be lacking," he murmured. Phoenix choked on his latte, and to his dismay, Miles noticed. For a moment, Phoenix swore he saw him smirk. Phoenix did his best to pretend that he wasn't hearing an angelic choir in his head.

"You play the piano and the flute, right?" The words came out jumbled.

"And how did you know about the flute?" Miles asked. I've been careful not to tell you any especially specific details about myself, he did not say.

"U-Um, your Uncle Ray?" Phoenix lied. Miles frowned.

"You, too?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Anyway, there was... something else I wanted to ask you." Miles lowered his voice, and his eyes darted around the room to confirm that no one was nearby. Intrigued, Phoenix set down his mug and leaned forward.

"Shoot."

Miles inhaled a shaky breath, and something in his expression changed. He suddenly lost his distinguished appearance, and he looked childlike somehow, perhaps frightened. Phoenix felt his jaw drop a bit and swallowed to tighten it.

"...What... What is your first name?"

Everything froze, and Phoenix stared at Miles, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. Apparently it really was something that simple, that harmless.

That's it? You got yourself all worked up just for that?

"...If I tell you my first name, will you tell me your last name?" He finally replied, and Miles bit his lip and squirmed in his chair.

"I-I... Suppose that's only fair."

Phoenix looked him in the eyes and smiled, unbelievably happy that they were finally exchanging information as basic as this.

"...Phoenix. My name is Phoenix."

Miles raised his eyebrows, almost looking like he didn't believe him.

"Is it really?"

"Yeah, it is! Though my friends call me Nick for short. Bit of a stretch, but it works."

"Your first name is a mythical bird, and your last name is the same as that of the men who invented planes," Miles said as he chuckled and shook his head. Phoenix cleared his throat.

"You promised, remember? You have to tell me your last name."

There was a long silence in which Miles' face was completely devoid of emotion.

"Edgeworth," he said. "My full name is Miles Edgeworth."

That's one fancy-ass name, Phoenix thought. The name sounded familiar, and he looked up as he tried to remember where he had heard it.

"Oh, now I remember— Edgeworth like the detective novel guy, right? Man, what ever happened to him? I used to love his books." Miles' expression tightened, and he looked away. Phoenix felt his jaw drop and allowed it to do so this time. "Hey, and that's where I recognized that picture in your apartment from! Gregory Edgeworth is your dad, isn't he?! You guys even look alike!"

"I don't want to talk about that."

Phoenix froze. It was the loudest he had ever heard Miles' voice, and he instantly wished that he could take back his enthusiasm, that he could retract the statement entirely.

Gregory Edgeworth had been a nationally famous author at one point, but had suddenly faded into obscurity. His writings were mostly mystery novels targeted at teens and young adults about a gruff detective with a soft spot for sweets, but using his experience in journalism, he'd also written a few hard-hitting exposés that took down major corporations and politicians.

One of those journalistic pieces had played a major role in Phoenix's life not long ago, so Phoenix had gotten caught up in his excitement. Even so, he should have been more careful. Miles was being raised not by his parents, but by a man unrelated to him. Phoenix couldn't be sure of his family situation, but he should have assumed that it would be a touchy subject.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I know that you live with your Uncle Ray. I shouldn't have just stuck my nose into your family situation like that."

Miles looked wounded. After a moment, he shook his head.

"It's... I just don't like talking about it. I didn't mean to snap at you."

It seemed that Miles had a few things he didn't want to talk about. Phoenix was willing to respect those boundaries, so he decided to change the subject.

"About transferring..." Miles looked up. He still looked a bit tentative. "Ivy U is a lot closer to the store than Prestige is. You wouldn't be so tired all the time. I know it would be hard, getting used to a whole new school and leaving your friends behind, but it could make you really happy. And that's what's most important here. You should do whatever will make you happy."

He flashed a warm smile. Miles' expression turned blank, then contemplative. He processed the sentiment, and then he nodded, only slightly.

"...I'll think about it."

"Good," Phoenix replied. "I'm glad. ...I should probably be heading home. It's getting pretty dark out."

He stood and returned his mug and collected his bag. He waved at Miles as he passed by the sitting area to head to the door.

"Wait."

Phoenix stopped with a hand on the doorknob and turned to face Miles.

"Yeah? What is it?"

Miles looked stubbornly at the floor and fumbled for words.

"I, um... It's..." After a moment of searching, he seemed to deflate. "...Never mind. Have a nice evening."

Miles tried not to look at Phoenix. Phoenix grinned mischievously. He understood what the other man was trying to say.

"It's alright. I like talking to you, too."

Phoenix ducked out the store before Miles could form a response, leaving him sputtering and red-faced.

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"There you are, Miles! I was just gonna start dinner, if you want to help."

Miles paused halfway through putting his jacket on the hanger by the door. Uncle Ray stood at the counter with a box of pasta and a bowl full of ground beef. He had a lined tray set up, clearly planning on making meatballs.

"...I'll help. Just give me a moment to put my things away and wash my hands."

"Sure thing, kid. I'll just finish getting everything set up."

Miles had to pass through his bedroom to get to the apartment's only bathroom. He made sure to thoroughly scrub his hands, getting underneath the fingernails and all the way up his wrists. When he was finished, he paused to look into the mirror.

He really did look tired. It was no wonder that so many others had pointed it out to him.

Miles, generally, liked his life here with Uncle Ray. Sure, he wished that certain other people were still with them, but he had everything he truly needed. He didn't need anyone else in his life. Other companions would just complicate things, would only weigh him down.

Or, at least, that's what he had thought up until now.

Now, he was having second thoughts about the way that he'd lived his last few years. He'd hadn't felt lonely before, not in a long while, but now he felt a touch of sadness when he didn't see certain people in the store or in the café. He looked forward to their visits. He enjoyed their conversations. Even that annoying man with the magazines was beginning to grow on him.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, Miles thought. He normally avoided asking himself that question. Whenever he thought of wrong, he thought of a particular insecurity that he still grappled with. It was something he never breached if he could help it. So why had he answered when Mr. Wright had asked?

Not Mr. Wright— Phoenix. Would it be okay to call him that? No, surely it wouldn't be strange. After all, they were... What were they, exactly? Miles wasn't sure.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, he found that Uncle Ray had finished gathering everything and started preheating the oven. Miles offered him a tired smile as he got to work on the beef. Uncle Ray joined him. It seemed he'd planned on making enough for there to be some left over to freeze.

"Miles." Miles paused at hearing his own name and glanced nervously up at Uncle Ray, who looked worried. "Is something wrong? You look anxious."

Miles wasn't sure how to respond for a moment. Then, he decided to come right out with it and ask the silly question he'd been pondering all this time. He wasn't sure exactly how to phrase it, though.

"When is it alright to... How do you... When can you consider a person your friend?"

Uncle Ray blinked at him in surprise. A long silence, and then he lit up, grinning wider and brighter than Miles had seen in a while. Miles rolled his eyes. He probably shouldn't have asked. Uncle Ray had been pressuring him to make friends for so long, after all.

But there was no undoing his mistake now.

And maybe, for once, that was okay.

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A/N: i do a lot of environment descriptions for this fic, huh? i hope the image comes across right. i picture the places pretty vividly in my head for this story, so i want the readers to see it as well! it's surprisingly hard to explain certain things. that fireplace, for instance. saw one like it in a starbucks one time. it was pretty cool.
i'm gonna try and fit lots of book references into this one! they won't all be spelled out, though, so points to those who can catch them all! (for instance: "so i've been figurin' about them rabbits" is from of mice and men.)
i've always liked the "japanese descent phoenix" idea— in the localization, everyone is given "western" names and lives in "california", and there's no reference at all to race. i like to imagine phoenix being american-born, but between a quarter and half japanese. as for what manga he got, i imagine phoenix read something like shaman king when he was a kid, plus maybe the original yu-gi-oh.