Wrightworth Oneshots

Sick Day (1)

Miles awoke in a cold sweat, the covers kicked off the bed. The alarm clock beside his bed read 8:22 AM. His head hurt. Confused, he sat up a little too quickly and immediately fell back onto his pillow as the room blurred before his eyes. He felt like he was underwater.

For a few minutes, he just stared at the ceiling until he finally came to the surface. He shivered. A cold wind was blowing in through the open window.
Miles put a clammy hand to his forehead.

Is my forehead really that hot or is my hand just cold?

Carefully, he got up and dragged himself to the bathroom, walking along the wall to support himself. He got the thermometer.

Crap. It's a fever.

Then:

Crap. I need to call Phoenix.

Trucy was performing tonight and Miles had promised to come to the show. He and Phoenix had even taken the whole day off so they could meet for lunch and then go to the show together.

Well, so much for that.

Miles got his phone from the nightstand and called Phoenix.

"Hey, Miles, what is it?"

"Hello, Phoenix," Miles replied, fully aware of how raspy and weak his voice sounded.

God, I'm pathetic.

"I... I don't think I'll make it to Trucy's show tonight. Or to lunch, for that matter."
The word "lunch" made his stomach feel funny. He wasn't sure if it was a memory of the excitement he had felt at the thought of having lunch with Phoenix, or just his body rejecting even the idea of food right now.

"Oh, why is that?" Phoenix sounded far away. "Is everything alright?"

Miles blinked, once, twice, trying to stop the room from spinning.
"Ah... I'll be fine. It's just a fever. But I don't think I should leave the house today."

"Oh...", Phoenix replied.

"Sorry," Miles mumbled. "I will make it up to both of you once I feel better."

"Don't worry about it, Miles," Phoenix reassured him. "I was just looking forward to it, is all. But... it's neither Trucy's last show nor our last day off. You just make sure you get some rest, alright?"

"Alright." Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you."

"Oh, before I forget," Phoenix said, "do you need anything? Are you even gonna be able to get around the house by yourself?"

"Don't ridicule me," Miles grumbled. "I am perfectly capable of- urgh..."
He'd tried to get up, but his knees had buckled and he'd immediately fallen back onto the bed.
Even this little action had him panting and sweating.

"Okay," Phoenix sighed, "stay where you are. I'm coming over."

"No, Phoenix, it's fine-"

"Oh yeah, no, sure," Phoenix interrupted him, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you have a key hidden somewhere so I can get in?"

Miles rolled his eyes at Phoenix's stubbornness, but he couldn't help but smile weakly.
"No, but I can open the door from here. Just text me when you're there."

"Got it," Phoenix replied. "Bye, see you in a bit."

"Bye..."

Miles hung up and closed his eyes.
He must have dozed off, because he was startled awake by a ding from his phone.

Message from: Phoenix Wright
"I'm here."

He pressed the button that unlocked the door and fell back onto his mattress.