suddenly: life has new meaning to me
there's beauty up above, and things we've never taken notice of
you wake up, and, suddenly, you're in love

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"Happy Birthday!"

Several voices cried out their congratulations in unison, and the man closest to the door popped a popper with a loud bang. The little girl in the doorway flinched automatically, and then teared up and laughed as she registered the scene before her and all of the familiar faces around her.

Pearl Fey had just turned ten years old. Her cousin, Maya, had guided her to the cramped apartment of her closest friend, Phoenix, saying that they needed to pick him up to take him somewhere. Instead, upon arrival, Pearl found that Phoenix and several others were waiting for her with a banner, balloons, cake, and presents. She clapped her tiny hands and gripped Maya in a bone-crushing hug.

"Double digits! You'll be a lady in no time!" The man with the popper exclaimed, running a hand through his unkempt blonde hair.

"She's already more ladylike than Maya," Phoenix Wright teased. He adjusted the figurines perched on top of the cake, and Pearl giggled as she recognized the Steel Samurai and Pink Princess. He gestured her over to take a closer look, and she left Maya's side. Maya huffed at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well, I never! Larry, you and I should just go." Larry, just now discarding the remains of his popper, perked up at that, only to earn a warning glare from Phoenix.

"So, I haven't seen you in a little while, but do you remember me?" A young woman asked Pearl, hand pointed at her own face. Pearl scrunched up her nose and studied her brown hair and pink goggles, then snapped her fingers.

"Miss Ema!" She exclaimed, and Ema beamed at her.

"I'm sure she remembers me," a low voice boomed, and a dark-haired man with bronzed skin stepped out from behind a cluster of balloons. Pearl blushed as she looked up at him. She'd always found him very handsome, and he had always been so nice to her.

"Of course I remember you, Mr. Armando. What brings you to my birthday party?" Pearl asked quietly, wringing her hands nervously behind her back. Diego Armando grinned, flashing his brilliant white teeth at her.

"I would never miss such an event."

"He heard me talking about it in the halls way back when, and offered his assistance. Mr. Armando prepared a very special present for you!" Maya chirped. She clapped her hands together in anticipation, and Pearl gasped and covered her mouth. "He'll show it to you later, though. It's not something he could wrap, so you'll have to eat your cake and open everyone else's presents first."

"I had no idea you had been planning this for so long, Master Maya! You have been keeping this secret for months?!"

"Well, you're turning ten! That's a big deal!"

"Double Digits," Larry repeated, emphasizing the gesture with finger guns. Phoenix rolled his eyes and moved to cut the cake.

Though the party was small and simple, it was well-organized and very thoughtful. The months of planning had mostly been about thinking of the perfect presents and how to keep everything a surprise. Pearl was a smart girl, and getting things past her wasn't as easy as one would think.

Maya had scoured the area for what she insisted were incredibly rare holographic Pink Princess trading cards. Phoenix didn't understand what all the fuss was about, but Pearl's tears of joy convinced him to keep the thought to himself.

Larry had sculpted a figurine in Pearl's likeness, making her look like a samurai warrior herself. Pearl looked it over delicately, promising to keep it on her display shelf and put in a nice case so it wouldn't get damaged.

Ema presented her with tickets to a live performance of the Jammin' Ninja stage show, and Maya puffed out her cheeks, calling her a traitor, before Pearl explained that she felt it was okay to like both the Samurai and Ninja franchises. This resulted in a rather tense discussion, but Pearl managed to make her case, and Maya settled down.

Phoenix unveiled a painting that depicted both Pearl and Maya, and Pearl immediately swung it around in the air, insisting that she knew exactly where she would hang it. She said that it had always bothered her that she could never find a good picture of her and Maya together to put in her room, and thanked Phoenix for solving her problem for her.

Mr. Armando's present, saved for last, required him to leave the room. He returned with a lovely violin, a metal stand, and a sheet of paper with hand-written sheet music. Everyone gathered round, sitting on pillows on the floor, and witnessed the first ever performance of "Pearl's theme", a song he had composed that intertwined a whimsical original tune with his own versions of the various themes from the Steel Samurai and Pink Princess franchises. He occasionally lent the song his smooth, velvety voice, and the final chorus of the song provided fun lyrics to "Pearl's theme". His talent was clear to anyone who listened, and Phoenix couldn't help but feel that he had been one-upped as he glanced at Pearl's enraptured face. He bowed with a flourish as the song ended, and everyone made a show of cheering and clapping (including a few wolf-whistles from Larry). Pearl, misty-eyed once more, wrapped Mr. Armando in a hug.

After an hour or so of fun playing childish party games and dancing like fools, things began to wind down. Armando, violin returned to its case and sheet music left behind with Pearl, began gathering his things to leave.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Armando— thanks again for today. I still don't know why you felt so compelled to come, but it's definitely appreciated," Phoenix said, catching him halfway to the door. Pearl wandered over as she noticed. She was plainly sad to see him go.

"It's simply because she's such a lovely and polite young lady. I've encountered her on several occasions when she's tagging along with Maya." He accentuated the compliment with a ruffle of Pearl's hair, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Phoenix noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes just before he stood tall, nodding in Maya's direction. "I hate to leave so early, but I have a lot of work to do. The start of the year is right around the corner, after all."

At this, Phoenix laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, and he swore he could feel Maya's derisive smirk boring into him. He was well aware of the approach of the coming school year. Most of what he kept in his small apartment had already been boxed in preparation for the move to his dorm room, including Larry's things— the man was too scatterbrained to pack his own posessions.

"I'll see you at the next school concert, then! Or, you know, before that. At orientation, maybe."

Phoenix did his best to hide his open suspicion of Armando. He was a nice enough man, and very good at what he did, but he couldn't ignore how odd it was that Armando was around Maya so much in the first place— often enough to have formed a bond with Pearl despite Maya not being in any of his classes. It always seemed that they were just running into each other, and Armando was a bit too eager to offer his assistance whenever it was warranted.

Realizing that he was being ungrateful, Phoenix forced a smile once more and shook Armando's hand. Pearl gave him a quick hug, and then he was gone, with little more than a nod and a brief wave over his shoulder at the others. Maya watched him leave somewhat nervously, biting her lip, her cheeks dusted a slight pink. It seemed that she, too, didn't quite understand him or his intentions.

The party continued following Armando's departure for another couple of hours, mostly spent watching movies, fielding phone calls for Pearl from friends and relatives, and eating snacks. A few friends Pearl's age stopped by for a short while before being rushed off by their parents. Phoenix felt a pang of concern about this— her life of homeschooling offered her few opportunities to befriend people her own age.

Finally, the time came for everyone to head home, though Maya said she and Pearl would remain in Phoenix's apartment until Pearl had to be taken to the train station. Phoenix slipped on his shoes and threw his wallet into the pocket of his coat.

"Doing more bookstore hunting?" Larry called from the corner of the couch. Phoenix narrowed his eyes at him for a moment— he sounded drunk, even if he hadn't seen him drink anything.

"Yep. There's a couple of niche places I was told to check out, and I'm pretty excited about one of them."

As he left, he waved over his shoulder. He could barely see Maya and Pearl wave back, and he heard Larry fall off of the couch just before he closed the door.

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By now, everyone close to him knew of Phoenix's plight when it came to finding more books.

While it seemed to someone who wasn't a college student that there was still a good chunk of the summer left, anyone currently enrolled in a high-ranking school knew that to fall into that trap of comfort could be fatal to one's grades. As far as he was concerned, the new year was right around the corner.

Ivy University was nearly as prestigious a school as its name implied, but its library was fundamentally lacking. Actually, that wasn't quite right. Its art section was lacking. No— that wasn't necessarily fair either.

The problem with defining a good collection of books on art is that no one agrees on what that means. No one agrees on what art is to begin with, much less good art. So it naturally would follow that no one can look at a collection of books and decide it's an adequate representation of what good art looks like and how to create it. For this reason, Phoenix found himself shopping for more books very frequently. He wouldn't be caught relying on the library's materials.

Phoenix was a firm believer in sketching from reference photos. It was important to him to learn how to draw everything, from cars to trees to animals to human hands (that which plagued even the most talented of professionals). Phoenix also believed in learning art history, and art theory, and studying stylistic choices all the way down to the illustrations in children's books. This required a wide array of materials.

Phoenix needed books, and so he needed a bookstore. Over the last week or so, he had dedicated himself to finding his bookstore. The place he would visit on a near-daily basis. The place that would become like a second home. He got to know every corner of his little college town nestled in a larger cityscape, exploring every option available.

(Phoenix felt it necessary to note that, yes, he could always rely on his local public library, but his scatterbrained and forgetful nature meant that the late fees made it more sensible for him to simply buy books and resell or donate them when he needed to make space for more. Pitiful, yes, but it was the truth.)

It was about four in the afternoon, and Phoenix jumped off of the bus along with everyone else. He waited on the street corner and looked around. As he had thought— he knew the rough location of the street. He didn't necessarily need to take the bus to get here. He could make the trip easily on his bike, or even walking if he so desired. A long walk, but a feasible one. He smiled as he breathed in the crisp, clean air.

The area wasn't terribly crowded. Most of the people seemed to be college students and elderly folks, and he didn't see anyone resembling a tourist. The street had a few restaurants, a couple of cafés, a bakery, a floral shop and gift store, and an ice cream place— a charming collection of businesses. The sidewalks were lined with small trees and flowerbeds, and the buildings were made of brick and had aging paint on their wooden doors. The bookstore was nestled right in the center, between a café and the florist.

Vintage Volumes. The name had a nice ring to it, one that appealed to his inner romanticist. The front windows were made of frosted glass, tinted just enough that he couldn't quite see inside. He noticed the ringing of a bell as he opened the front door, but didn't see anyone behind the counter near the front. Looking around, he didn't see any employees. As he approached the counter, he saw a very small handwritten sign taped to its corner: In event of empty desk, please ring for service. Perched on the desk's corner, just above the sign, was a little handbell. He smiled at how quaint the arrangement was. He guessed that the shop didn't employ many people, and that the lone worker was occupied in the back room sorting through inventory, or doing paperwork in the break room. He could see a couple of doors behind the counter and could easily guess where they led.

At that moment, he didn't need the help. He took a step back to take in the entire place. There was a surprising amount of people— not enough that the place was crowded, but enough to let him know their business was doing rather well. The whole place seemed old and charming. It was lit by scattered antique lamps and chandeliers rather than fluorescents, giving the whole room a somewhat orange glow. There were kaleidoscope-like patterns scattered on the walls in certain places by the glass shades of some of the lamps. The floors were mostly a plush brown carpet, but they gave way to a light hardwood as one made their way to the sitting area. There were two antique armchairs here, and a small end table sat between them stacked high with magazines and yet another lamp. Both chairs were occupied.

Mostly, Phoenix noted the shelves and cases. They were nearly ceiling-high, and nearly every case was stuffed so full that some books had to be laid horizontally atop the others. In other places, there were huge noticeable gaps where customers had eagerly snatched up every tome on the shelf. Certain areas were discounted, some marked by the same neat cursive handwriting as the sign on the desk and others by much larger bubble letters. There were occasional glass cases, and these appeared to contain collectibles and antiques, not all of them strictly book-related. He saw a set of mint-condition comic books that he briefly pondered getting for Maya before noticing the hefty price tag.

Satisfied with what he saw, Phoenix made up his mind to look through the store's selection and took a basket from a rack near the front door. To his amusement, he noticed a coat hanger there, one that several people were actually using. He wandered around until he found the art section, deciding to only look there for the day. Soon he had filled his entire basket and grimaced a bit at the weight of it. He lugged it to the counter, certain he'd finally found the place for him. He liked the atmosphere here, and the selection was unlike what he'd seen anywhere else.

The desk was still empty, so he rang the little handbell, amused at the high-pitched twinkling sound it made. He waited. Five seconds, then ten, then fifteen. Just as he contemplated ringing it again, he heard something stir behind the door that was propped slightly open.

"I will be with you in one moment. Forgive my delay."

He heard the voice, but could not see the person it belonged to. He imagined a distinguished gentleman older than himself by the sound of it. It was rich, and somewhat deeper than his own voice, and the speaker very carefully enunciated his words. Phoenix heard papers shuffling about and what sounded like a few heavy boxes being moved, and then he heard footsteps.

At long last, the door pushed open slightly, and the employee took his place behind the counter, looking Phoenix directly in the eye and doing a slight bow.

Phoenix could do nothing but stare, and he was certain that time froze the moment he locked eyes with the cashier.

"I do apologize for making you wait— thank you for your patience. How may I help you?"

Was his hair black? No, it wasn't black, the lighting just made it look that way at first glance. When he titled his head to the side very slightly and the hair moved, it glittered. It was silver. Just like those eyes of his. His thin-framed glasses and his stern brow made the sharp glint of his eyes almost piercing, but it was softened by his long, dark lashes.

"...Do you have something you want to purchase? I can see your basket down there..."

He had pale, smooth-looking skin, and his hair looked fine and silky. He wore a red sweater over a crisp white button-up shirt, and the sweater looked soft. He looked soft. Phoenix felt his free hand twitch with the sudden urge to run his fingers through those silver locks.

"...Sir? Are you feeling alright...?"

Other customers were turning to look at him with concerned stares and furrowed brows, and Phoenix mentally screamed at himself to say something, to say anything. Instead, he continued to gape at the young man behind the counter.

He felt like he was literally the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he immediately hated himself for how enormous of a cliché that was.

"Sir—"

"I-I-I'm okay, sorry!! I just, uh, I... Dizzy spell. Felt a little woozy for a second there."

Good going, Phoenix. He's definitely going to believe that. Best lie ever, ten out of ten, you've really outdone yourself this time.

"I'm terribly sorry. Do you need me to contact medical help, or are you alright now?"

The clerk's expression was blank and difficult to read, but Phoenix thought he saw a slight hint of concern in the slant of his brow (though it seemed his brows had a naturally pronounced slant to them anyway). His speech was the same way— polite, but sounding mostly unaffected save for a very slight waver.

He's mature. He's level-headed. He— wait, he actually bought that?!

"N-No, I'm feeling fine now! It happens from time to time. I, uh, hit my head a little while ago and that still happens every once in a while."

He was pulling the story out of his ass, but the other man had no way of knowing he was lying. He saw the other customers finally avert their gazes from him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The clerk studied him closely, his eyes narrowing very slightly as he looked him over. Phoenix felt incredibly exposed under that gaze somehow. He forced a nervous smile.

"Alright, then. Anyway..."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot! I, uh, wanted to buy these." He placed the basket full of books on the counter, and the clerk shot him a mildly surprised glance before reaching for a calculator and notebook.

Really, though, how did he not notice I was gawking at him?! Maybe he's not used to it? No, that's impossible. Someone that ridiculously good-looking must get it all the time! ...Maybe not from other men, though.

Phoenix barely noticed that the cashier had said something, and asked him to repeat himself.

"I wanted to know in advance if you will be paying with cash or a card."

"O-Oh. Uh, debit, I guess. ...You do all that by hand? No barcode scanner?" Phoenix looked down at the clerk's hands, just then noticing that he was adding up the prices marked on the stickers with the calculator and tracking the sales by hand. He was apparently better at math than Phoenix was, as he didn't need to do too many calculations.

"The owner is rather old-fashioned. Doesn't trust computers. Hardly any point to it, though, since we already have a card reader and cash register."

Phoenix chuckled at his words, noticing that he sounded fatigued as he explained it— like he had had the same argument with said owner too many times to care any longer.

There was a moment or two of silence as the clerk continued to ring up his purchases, and Phoenix took the opportunity to stare a bit more. His movements were smooth and graceful, and his soft-looking hands had long, slender fingers— entirely different from his own awkward fumbling and stubby digits. He felt a sudden surge of self-consciousness. It was almost like he didn't deserve to be in the same room as the other man.

Why am I only ever attracted to people way out of my league?

He noticed, just then, what was likely the reason that the clerk kept glancing at him every once in a while— his face must have been incredibly red. He could feel the heat pooled in his cheeks, and he felt like his heart had risen to form the lump in his throat for how loudly he could hear it pounding in his ears. He swallowed, as if to force it back down, and laughed.

"Are you sure you don't need medical attention? You're quite red in the face, and a tad sweaty."

Wow. You're pretty blunt, huh?

"Ah, no, I'm fine, it's just a bit warm in here."

"If you insist, though I would recommend not wearing a hoodie at this time of year. That'll be thirty-five dollars and sixty cents."

Phoenix raised his eyebrows and hummed in pleasant surprise. For the amount of things he'd purchased, that was quite reasonable. One could pay that much for a single book if bought new, after all.

"Not bad! I've, uh, been looking for a good place to get books on the regular, and the pricing and atmosphere here... I think I may have found my spot." He reached into the pockets of his hoodie to fish for his wallet. He was suddenly embarrassed by how ratty his barely-held-together-with-duct-tape wallet was, but the clerk didn't seem to notice.

"Always nice to acquire more regular customers. I can assure you this is a good place for regular shopping, as we restock on a near-daily basis. I suppose I'll see you again sometime soon, Mister..."

He left an audible pause for Phoenix to fill in his name. Apparently he insisted on the formality of calling him by his last name. It made sense in a professional environment, he supposed, but not too many people were like that anymore.

"Uh, Wright. Mr. Wright. Like the flying brothers, y'know."

The clerk finished ringing up the purchases and placed everything into a thick paper bag with sturdy handles, pushing it across the counter to him and making a show of placing the receipt on top. Phoenix wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he thrust out his hand.

"Until next time, then, um..."

He tried to leave the same pause. The young man eyed his hand with something like suspicion for a moment before extending his own hand. As Phoenix clasped it, he found that it was about as soft as he'd been expecting, though the clerk had surprisingly calloused fingertips for whatever reason.

"Miles."

Of course that's your name. MILES.

"Alright then, Miles! See you soon!"

"Likewise." He bowed again, this time accompanying it with a flourish of some kind where he bent his arm at the elbow to hold a hand to his chest.

Phoenix stood awkwardly still for another moment, looking back and forth, and then slowly backed out of the store. He didn't want to lose sight of Miles until it was absolutely necessary. When he was finally outside, he released a long breath and collapsed against the window.

"What the hell just happened to me?" he asked no one in particular.

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"There you are! What took you so long?!"

Phoenix jumped at the voice and looked up to find Maya in her usual spot on his couch, still watching Steel Samurai reruns. Pearl was no longer with her, having likely been dropped off at the train station.

"U-Uh, I was just looking around. I've definitely settled on a store. Where, uh, where's Larry run off to?"

"Larry has a date. Are you serious, though? Did you finally find your place?"

Phoenix made a point to get himself a bag of chips and a diet soda from the fridge and plop down on the couch beside Maya before answering.

"Yeah. ...I found it."

There was a long silence, and when Phoenix looked up, he found that Maya was frowning suspiciously at him.

"Did something happen while you were out?"

Phoenix nearly jumped out of his skin.

"W-Why would you ask me that?!"

"I dunno, you just seem... different somehow. You've got this far-off look in your eyes."

Am I really that easy to read?!

"It's nothing. Guess I'm just thinking about how nice the store was. It's got an antique charm that I really like."

Maya snorted at that before reaching into his bag and snatching a handful of chips. Of course she hadn't bothered to ask permission first.

Nearly an hour passed, and Phoenix still couldn't clear his head. He looked at Maya and decided that she'd forgotten the earlier conversation. She was too transfixed with the show to bother with silly things like that.

"Hey, Maya, can I ask you a weird philosophical question?"

"Eh? Uh, sure, shoot."

"...Do you believe in love at first sight?"

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A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS. this one will be long. i'm incapable of writing anything short and i'm picky about development. i should mention in advance that i had no choice but to amend maya and ema's ages, along with some others, just a little bit so that it would at least KIND OF make sense for them to be in college already. but, hey, it's an au. maya is now only about three years younger than Phoenix.
this whole thing was inspired by a piece of fanart, and i got further ideas from how phoenix has shown that he can fall pretty hard and pretty fast. i thought it would be cute if it was miles instead of the wicked witch and evolved from fairytale infatuation to the sort of wholesome relationship he develops miles Miles that pushes him to be a better person before they even end up together. I FUCKIN' LOVE PUPPY LOVE TURNING INTO TRUE LIFETIME LOVE, I'M SO EXCITED TO TRY AND PORTRAY IT!