This one-shot was entered in a contest the Anime club at my school was having, and it won first place! I hope you enjoy reading this, and I'm sorry if it seems short. The limit was 6 pages, and I never got around to extending it.

Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this work of fiction do NOT belong to me. They belong to Capcom. No profit of any kind is being made, and the purpose of this story is for entertainment purposes ONLY.

Update: Just fixed some annoying typos. Also, i'm glad so many people like this, and thank you to the ones who took the time to review. Really, it means a lot. :)

Oh, and this fic was actually based on a piece of fan-art I found a couple years ago. Just thought I'd mention that~

Lately, the ex-attorney's days at the Borscht Bowl Club were anything but pleasant. Everyday was same-old, same-old; nothing seemed to catch his interests anymore. Day in and day out, he would merely accept songs to play on his grand piano, and occasionally help deal cards in a game of poker for the restaurants customers. He would play a few games here and there, but winning all the time didn't seem as fun as it used to be.

Everything in life, aside from his adopted daughter, seemed to only drag him down.

If there was anything that could be praised about the Borscht Bowl, it was the atmosphere. The cold stiffness in the Russian diner couldn't have been more in synched with the man's soul. And this was comforting, in its own dark and mysterious way. How and why it was, didn't phase him in the least bit. Why ask yourself such heart wrenching questions? After all, investigating wasn't a part of his life anymore, so why put forth the effort? As far as the man knew, his life just…drifted. Flowed with the in-ings and out-ings of the Borscht Bowl's visitors.

His life was but an enigma; in the eyes of his and many others.

Of course, the life of this pianist wasn't always of unknown sadness and despair. In fact, he had close friends, family, and even a lover in his past time. He enjoyed his life back then, even as complex as it had been sometimes. Even as enjoyable as his life apparently had been, the man, for concealed reasons, wouldn't share his stories. Whenever asked by his adopted daughter, Trucy, about his past and if he missed it at all, he'd only reply with a frown and a set of dimmed, jaded eyes. What was it about this man? Why was he so distant - almost lost - from the world? Nobody ever knew.

Until that destined meeting at the Borscht Bowl Club.

It was chilly, that late December night. The restaurant was nearly empty, as its opening hours were soon coming to a close. The only people left were two regulars sitting at the bar area in the diner, and Phoenix Wright, who was sitting in front of his trusty piano, swigging down his fifth bottle of grape juice. During said swigs, he would play a short piece; one of the very few he actually knew. Other than the occasional piano playing and the quiet murmurs that emitted from the two men, the diner was quiet - peaceful even.

After finishing his melody, Phoenix instinctively grabbed his grape juice bottle and took a drink. When he finished the bottle, he casually dropped it into the wooden crate next to him.

I can't wait 'till I get home… he inwardly droned. He glanced at the wall clock that hung near the bar area and smiled. He turned his attention to the two men a few feet away, "Hey, guys. Twenty minutes 'till closing time!".

"Yeah, yeah, we know piano man. Just keep doin' what you do best, okay?" One of the men rudely replied with their back still turned.

You're welcome, asshole. Geez, what's with the customers today?

Phoenix shook his head in frustration.

Whatever. He's lucky I'm too tired to get up and kick his sorry ass.

Phoenix's shoulders drooped down as he bowed his head.

I wonder why I've been so tired lately…

He closed his eyes, his brows furrowing,

…who am I kidding? Damnit…I thought I got over this already…

Phoenix's heart sank to his stomach; a feeling that annoyed him far more than any other did. His mind quickly began to fill itself with memories of his past life; memories of the love of his life, his friends…his beloved career.

"God…just go away…!" Phoenix groaned, opening his eyes and staring at the yellow colored piano keys directly below him. After a moment of silence to himself, he let out a long sigh and leaned over to the side of his seat to grab another bottle of grape juice from the wooden crate. He quickly uncorked the glass container and welcomed the sweet liquid to his taste buds. As he chugged, he closed his eyes, hoping the beverage could drown out any more heart wrenching thoughts.

Just as Phoenix was going to put his drink down and take a breather, he heard the restaurants front doors loudly creak open. He opened his eyes and stopped drinking to glance at who walked in, and for a moment, he didn't see anyone. But after staring for a few seconds, he saw an unfamiliar man walk in.

The visitor stood frozen in place in the middle of the restaurant for a moment before taking out a small, folded piece of paper. After unfolding it and reading its contents, he raised his head and began examining the diner.

Who is this guy? Doesn't he realize we're about to-

"Hey, this place is gonna close in about fifteen or so minutes." told one of the regulars to the newbie, all the while turning around in his seat.

"Oh - is that so?" the man looked down at the piece of paper he held in his hand once more, "Ah. I see it."

That voice…no! I-It can't!

Phoenix began to feel his lip quiver and his hand equipped with the bottle tremble.

"Yeah, you should probably come again tomorrow."

The inscrutable visitor shook his head, his arched bangs swaying side to side, "No need, gentlemen, fifteen minutes is plenty of time for me." He pocketed the piece of paper and turned towards the piano- or rather, the pianist.

Phoenix felt his entire body getting hot, and his heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it would jump out of his chest at any second.

The man that faced him from across the room wore rimless, rectangular spectacles and an earthy brown suit. His blazer was buttoned up to the middle of his chest, revealing a beige dress shirt and a red silk cravat underneath. His earnest eyes and groomed hair matched each other respectively: they were both warm grey in color and displayed a sense of profound mannerism. His pale skin was free from any imperfections and shone brilliantly under the rooms artificial light.

Phoenix could feel the color draining from his face as he gazed at the other man.

"I only came to listen to some music, anyhow," explained the suddenly familiar man to the regular attendant. As he spoke, he started walking towards the piano; his gaze staring directly into Phoenix's wide eyes.

Miles…?

"Tell me, Mr. Pianist," started the grey haired man, "what songs do you know? Although…" he casually glided his fingertips over the many table tops that passed by him as he advanced, "anything you play at this point is fine by me. Why don't you surprise me this evening and make my day?"

Phoenix wanted to say so many things to the man at once, but couldn't expel anything in the end. It was difficult to speak with the large lump that was quickly forming in his throat.

As the mans stride came to steady halt, he was near the piano - near phoenix. He carefully rested an arm on the edge of the piano and leaned slightly forward. His pensive eyes looked into Phoenix's; and Phoenix couldn't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia.

Phoenix's heart hammered against his chest as he stuttered, "M-Miles? Is that...?"

The other man sent Phoenix a loving smile, "Yes. It's me, Phoenix."

At this point, Phoenix couldn't hold in his emotions any longer. The lump in his throat only expanded and was quickly making his eyes well up with tears, and before long, tears flowed down the pianist's cheeks, "My God…where have you been these past seven years, Edgeworth?"

Miles' face saddened as he stared at his emotional lover. He instinctively caressed the raven haired mans tears away, and held the side of his face delicately in his palm. "I'm so sorry, Phoenix…for making you wait so long." The prosecutor crooned softly.

Phoenix looked into Miles' softened eyes, "Don't apologize. Love means not ever having to say you're sorry." He breathed, placing his hand on top of Miles' that held the side of his face.

Miles chuckled at the corny quote, "You haven't changed much, it seems."

Phoenix smiled at Miles, letting go of his lover's hand, "I can't really say. Only you can tell."

Edgeworth slowly released his hand from Phoenix's face, and returned it to the edge of the piano alongside his rested arm. He watched as Phoenix dried his eyes with his pullover's grey sleeve.

"Well, your appearance has surely changed. But I suppose that's to be expected after a seven year absence."

Phoenix laughed, "You're one to talk! Though I have to say…those eye glasses suit you."

"As does your unshaven look. It's…attractive, to say the least." Miles complimented, his lips forming a sheepish smile.

For a moment, the two men looked into each other's eyes in silence, taking in each other's exchanged words.

Suddenly, Phoenix's phone violently vibrated in his pocket; an indication that the restaurant was going to close in five minutes. "Oh, yeah. The restaurant…" he thought aloud.

"Closing time?"

"Yeah. Just about."

As Phoenix turned his gaze towards the bar area, he noticed the diners two regulars had already left. Not long after that realization, the manager of the Borscht Bowl Club appeared from his office, equipped with his jacket and a ring of multi-colored keys.

"Phoenix, I'm closing up shop. Go get some sleep, will ya?" informed Phoenix's boss.

"Yeah, yeah. I know," retaliated the pianist. He watched his boss until he was out of earshot. Once he was, Phoenix turned to look at Miles, "Would you like to come to my place? You know…for the night?"

Miles looked at Phoenix for moment in silence before answering with a loving look in his eyes, "I'd love to."

Phoenix grinned from ear to ear. With one thing that was missed in his previous life now back in his hands, he might be able to see life in a whole new light. And, maybe from now on, he'd be able to play at the Borscht Bowl without any negative thoughts to distract him. Ah, one can only imagine how beautiful his notes will sound…