Kinky Boots 9
“The only way to see a rainbow is to look through the rain.”
It was raining. Sheets of water, bouncing off the sidewalks, forming puddles among the uneven flagstones and making the pavement slick. Phoenix Wright could smell the ozone and feel the sudden chill in the air through his cheap suit as he looked out of the glass doors of the Police Department at the depressingly grey street.
Downcast figures hurried by or huddled under awnings on the other side of the road hoping for the torrent to cease, their features blurred by the movement of the rain. It was a melancholy scene overall, and the fifteen minute walk to the Courthouse suddenly felt deeply unappealing.
Sighing, Phoenix pressed his nose against the glass and breathed heavily onto the cold surface. As it fogged over he considered that it was a childish thing for a lawyer to do but he didn’t care. He inhaled, determined to do it again.
--
He breathed out through his mouth, carefully tilting his head so as to cover the maximum surface area while he waited for someone to answer the door. The suddenly opaque pane was far too tempting, and Phoenix Wright was far too impulsive a child not to immediately be seized with the temptation to write his name on it.
The squeak of his finger against the glass made his spine tingle, but not enough to stop him writing. He was squinting and concentrating on making the perfect “o” when he realised that someone was standing on the other side of the door. He refocused and an earnest pair of grey eyes met his gaze, staring out at him in mild puzzlement. He coughed, blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head, stepping back on the porch away from the door as it opened.
“What are you doing, Phoenix?”
“Um … nothing. Cleaning the glass for you,” he offered, as an afterthought.
Miles didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either, so Phoenix considered that one as won.
“It’s raining,” he added, in an attempt to change the subject before Miles gave it any more thought.
“So I see.” Phoenix was aware that Miles was scrutinising his damp and slightly dishevelled appearance. And he knew that under such scrutiny he inevitably came up lacking. “Didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
“I lost it.”
There was a slight pause. The look Miles gave him left him in no doubt that he considered his friend to be a hopeless case, and Phoenix found himself blushing again.
“I suppose we’ll have to share, then. We can’t wait it out or we’ll be late for school.”
“I suppose.”
It had been awkward at first. When they were nine, Phoenix had been slightly taller than Miles, so with the other boy holding the umbrella it made things a little complicated. Normally, he never complained about anything when he was with Miles. Miles was almost always right - that was just how it was. But after he’d nearly lost an eye to the spokes twice, and his hair had started to get straggly from the number of times that Miles had let the wet canopy bob down onto his head, Phoenix was beginning to feel a little irritated. When he saw the spokes swinging towards him again out of the corner of his eye he reacted automatically and his hand closed over Miles’ on the handle, pushing the umbrella up a couple of inches to give himself a margin of safety.
He felt Miles’ step falter for a moment as their hands made contact and his friend’s fingers tensed briefly under his. His own cheeks burned a little too at the unaccustomed physical contact, and he found that the azaleas outside Mrs Dooley’s house required his undivided attention as they passed.
They walked along in silence for a while, both aware of the warmth of their hands against each other but neither wishing to remark on it. Phoenix supposed that if anyone from school saw them they’d be laughed at, but the rain meant that there was no one around and really, it felt quite nice. He even ventured a sideways look at Miles, and when he did he caught Miles doing exactly the same thing. Phoenix wasn’t sure who smiled first, but within moments they had dissolved into laughter, all discomfort gone as they huddled together against the rain.
--
“Wright?” Phoenix was jerked out of his memories by a familiar voice directly behind him. He turned to see Miles Edgeworth regarding him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.
“What are you doing, exactly?” Edgeworth was looking past him with obvious disapproval at the unmistakeable nose print on the glass door.
“It’s raining,” Phoenix pointed out. “I’m waiting for it to stop. I don’t want to have to stand up in court in soaking wet clothes.”
“And does that require pressing your face up to the window like a sugar-deprived child at a candy store?”
Phoenix pulled a face at the arched eyebrow that accompanied the question and cast another depressed glance at the downpour outside that showed no sign of abating.
“Really, Wright. Don’t you own an umbrella?” The tone of exasperation was a familiar one that he’d heard in court many times.
“I left it on the bus last month and I guess I forgot to buy another.”
With another look of disdain and a slight shake of the head, Edgeworth stepped past him and out of the building, stopping to turn up his collar and put up his expensive, black, wooden-handled golf umbrella on the steps outside. He glanced at his watch, sighed visibly, then turned back and pushed the door open again.
“I suppose we’ll have to share, then. You can’t wait it out or you’ll be late for court and I’m not in the mood to explain that to the judge.”
Phoenix smiled.
--
He didn’t really remember now what colour that umbrella had been. Probably it had just been a plain black one. But in his mind’s eye it would always be the colour of a rainbow.
It was raining. Sheets of water, bouncing off the sidewalks, forming puddles among the uneven flagstones and making the pavement slick. Phoenix Wright could smell the ozone and feel the sudden chill in the air through his cheap suit as he looked out of the glass doors of the Police Department at the depressingly grey street.
Downcast figures hurried by or huddled under awnings on the other side of the road hoping for the torrent to cease, their features blurred by the movement of the rain. It was a melancholy scene overall, and the fifteen minute walk to the Courthouse suddenly felt deeply unappealing.
Sighing, Phoenix pressed his nose against the glass and breathed heavily onto the cold surface. As it fogged over he considered that it was a childish thing for a lawyer to do but he didn’t care. He inhaled, determined to do it again.
--
He breathed out through his mouth, carefully tilting his head so as to cover the maximum surface area while he waited for someone to answer the door. The suddenly opaque pane was far too tempting, and Phoenix Wright was far too impulsive a child not to immediately be seized with the temptation to write his name on it.
The squeak of his finger against the glass made his spine tingle, but not enough to stop him writing. He was squinting and concentrating on making the perfect “o” when he realised that someone was standing on the other side of the door. He refocused and an earnest pair of grey eyes met his gaze, staring out at him in mild puzzlement. He coughed, blushed slightly and scratched the back of his head, stepping back on the porch away from the door as it opened.
“What are you doing, Phoenix?”
“Um … nothing. Cleaning the glass for you,” he offered, as an afterthought.
Miles didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either, so Phoenix considered that one as won.
“It’s raining,” he added, in an attempt to change the subject before Miles gave it any more thought.
“So I see.” Phoenix was aware that Miles was scrutinising his damp and slightly dishevelled appearance. And he knew that under such scrutiny he inevitably came up lacking. “Didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
“I lost it.”
There was a slight pause. The look Miles gave him left him in no doubt that he considered his friend to be a hopeless case, and Phoenix found himself blushing again.
“I suppose we’ll have to share, then. We can’t wait it out or we’ll be late for school.”
“I suppose.”
It had been awkward at first. When they were nine, Phoenix had been slightly taller than Miles, so with the other boy holding the umbrella it made things a little complicated. Normally, he never complained about anything when he was with Miles. Miles was almost always right - that was just how it was. But after he’d nearly lost an eye to the spokes twice, and his hair had started to get straggly from the number of times that Miles had let the wet canopy bob down onto his head, Phoenix was beginning to feel a little irritated. When he saw the spokes swinging towards him again out of the corner of his eye he reacted automatically and his hand closed over Miles’ on the handle, pushing the umbrella up a couple of inches to give himself a margin of safety.
He felt Miles’ step falter for a moment as their hands made contact and his friend’s fingers tensed briefly under his. His own cheeks burned a little too at the unaccustomed physical contact, and he found that the azaleas outside Mrs Dooley’s house required his undivided attention as they passed.
They walked along in silence for a while, both aware of the warmth of their hands against each other but neither wishing to remark on it. Phoenix supposed that if anyone from school saw them they’d be laughed at, but the rain meant that there was no one around and really, it felt quite nice. He even ventured a sideways look at Miles, and when he did he caught Miles doing exactly the same thing. Phoenix wasn’t sure who smiled first, but within moments they had dissolved into laughter, all discomfort gone as they huddled together against the rain.
--
“Wright?” Phoenix was jerked out of his memories by a familiar voice directly behind him. He turned to see Miles Edgeworth regarding him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.
“What are you doing, exactly?” Edgeworth was looking past him with obvious disapproval at the unmistakeable nose print on the glass door.
“It’s raining,” Phoenix pointed out. “I’m waiting for it to stop. I don’t want to have to stand up in court in soaking wet clothes.”
“And does that require pressing your face up to the window like a sugar-deprived child at a candy store?”
Phoenix pulled a face at the arched eyebrow that accompanied the question and cast another depressed glance at the downpour outside that showed no sign of abating.
“Really, Wright. Don’t you own an umbrella?” The tone of exasperation was a familiar one that he’d heard in court many times.
“I left it on the bus last month and I guess I forgot to buy another.”
With another look of disdain and a slight shake of the head, Edgeworth stepped past him and out of the building, stopping to turn up his collar and put up his expensive, black, wooden-handled golf umbrella on the steps outside. He glanced at his watch, sighed visibly, then turned back and pushed the door open again.
“I suppose we’ll have to share, then. You can’t wait it out or you’ll be late for court and I’m not in the mood to explain that to the judge.”
Phoenix smiled.
--
He didn’t really remember now what colour that umbrella had been. Probably it had just been a plain black one. But in his mind’s eye it would always be the colour of a rainbow.