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Therapy Sessions, #4: Concealer (Ace Attorney)
Title: Concealer
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Prompt: What scars does he have? What are the stories behind them?
Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes
Word Count: 816
Summary: As it turned out, Simon didn't mind talking about his scars. All except for two.
The party was a formal affair, hosted by the prosecutor's office to honor the Christmas holiday every year. Were it not for tradition and expectations, Simon suspected Edgeworth wouldn't bother with it at all. They were a lot alike, the two of them, their dislike for the masses included, but unfortunately, neither of them was that lucky. The party was dated for Christmas Eve on the office's ground floor, the same as every year, and Simon, at least, had no other plans.
It was bad enough that he was going in the first place. Then Athena convinced him to get the suit.
He was trying it on for her on the evening in question, and he hoped she could hear his every protest, every silent complaint his heart was making.
(Of course she could.)
"A few hours won't kill you," Athena insisted, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Come on. Smile!"
Simon's lip twitched and curled into the smug smirk she'd become familiar with over the past few months. It wasn't quite was she was looking for, but it was evidently close enough, since she didn't scold him any further. She simply sighed, running a hand across his cheek.
"Don't worry. We'll do something about that," she said.
"About what?" he asked.
"Those bags under your eyes. Those . . . scars." Athena narrowed her eyes to get a better look, like she was making sure she wasn't seeing things. Not that she failed to notice them before, but nevertheless, she continued: "Do you even sleep?"
Simon scoffed. He decided her question was a rhetorical one and grabbed her wrist to stop her (albeit far more gently than he was used to doing). The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "It isn't a big deal. Leave it alone."
Something in his voice caught her attention then. Something guarded and sudden, something not quite like him. There was a vague feeling like she'd just run head-first into a wall. Here stood a man who made light of his time in jail—a man who told so many stories about his inmates that she wasn't sure which were true anymore. Here stood a man who kept no secrets about the dramatic injuries he sustained, the marks others left on him, yet this was where he drew the line, apparently.
Granted, his other marks were far better hidden. Athena had an easier time getting him to talk about those, and most of them were way scarier looking. The ones beneath his eyes were faint, and definitely not just bags from lack of sleep, she decided. Just acknowledging them seemed to bother him, and the psychologist in her was curious.
"I've got concealer," she offered carefully. "I mean, it wouldn't take very long."
"Why does it suddenly bother you so much?" Simon asked. He seemed to take offense. His tolerance for Athena's bubbly persistence wore thin, but her answer did calm him somewhat.
That bubbly persistence had saved him, after all. And she still cared.
"It bothers me that it bothers you," she said softly.
Even so, he didn't know how he was supposed to reply to that. All he could manage was: "It shouldn't."
For a while, she didn't say anything else. He could see the way she was frowning though, the way she worried. She could still hear parts of him that weren't over the long years he'd lost, he knew— and he softened under her gaze. He let her adjust his sleeves, fix his tie, even button up the suit once all was said and done. He didn't resist again when she actually twisted open the concealer and actually started to apply it.
She was certain he'd look like a completely different person when she was done.
"Simon, is there anything you want to talk about?" Athena looked him in the eyes.
He wasn't lying, she decided, when he replied, "No."
He was soft-spoken, declining her gently. She stepped back then to admire her work and didn't push the issue further. There was a smile, suggesting she was satisfied. "Then I guess it's my turn to get dressed."
"Aura doesn't like to be kept waiting," he agreed.
His smirk returned, but he was only met with Athena's back as she headed back towards the bathroom. "Don't mess anything up! I'll be right back."
The door shut behind her. His shoulders fell, and he suddenly felt a lot less tense as he made himself comfortable on their couch. It would be his first Christmas he would celebrate as a free man, with his sister no less, who was also free now.
No, he didn't feel like talking about it. He had shed enough tears to last a lifetime—enough tears to leave those marks. He certainly didn't want to cry anymore. Just knowing that he could was enough.
Her support was the best gift he could ask for.
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Fandom: Ace Attorney
Prompt: What scars does he have? What are the stories behind them?
Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes
Word Count: 816
Summary: As it turned out, Simon didn't mind talking about his scars. All except for two.
The party was a formal affair, hosted by the prosecutor's office to honor the Christmas holiday every year. Were it not for tradition and expectations, Simon suspected Edgeworth wouldn't bother with it at all. They were a lot alike, the two of them, their dislike for the masses included, but unfortunately, neither of them was that lucky. The party was dated for Christmas Eve on the office's ground floor, the same as every year, and Simon, at least, had no other plans.
It was bad enough that he was going in the first place. Then Athena convinced him to get the suit.
He was trying it on for her on the evening in question, and he hoped she could hear his every protest, every silent complaint his heart was making.
(Of course she could.)
"A few hours won't kill you," Athena insisted, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Come on. Smile!"
Simon's lip twitched and curled into the smug smirk she'd become familiar with over the past few months. It wasn't quite was she was looking for, but it was evidently close enough, since she didn't scold him any further. She simply sighed, running a hand across his cheek.
"Don't worry. We'll do something about that," she said.
"About what?" he asked.
"Those bags under your eyes. Those . . . scars." Athena narrowed her eyes to get a better look, like she was making sure she wasn't seeing things. Not that she failed to notice them before, but nevertheless, she continued: "Do you even sleep?"
Simon scoffed. He decided her question was a rhetorical one and grabbed her wrist to stop her (albeit far more gently than he was used to doing). The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "It isn't a big deal. Leave it alone."
Something in his voice caught her attention then. Something guarded and sudden, something not quite like him. There was a vague feeling like she'd just run head-first into a wall. Here stood a man who made light of his time in jail—a man who told so many stories about his inmates that she wasn't sure which were true anymore. Here stood a man who kept no secrets about the dramatic injuries he sustained, the marks others left on him, yet this was where he drew the line, apparently.
Granted, his other marks were far better hidden. Athena had an easier time getting him to talk about those, and most of them were way scarier looking. The ones beneath his eyes were faint, and definitely not just bags from lack of sleep, she decided. Just acknowledging them seemed to bother him, and the psychologist in her was curious.
"I've got concealer," she offered carefully. "I mean, it wouldn't take very long."
"Why does it suddenly bother you so much?" Simon asked. He seemed to take offense. His tolerance for Athena's bubbly persistence wore thin, but her answer did calm him somewhat.
That bubbly persistence had saved him, after all. And she still cared.
"It bothers me that it bothers you," she said softly.
Even so, he didn't know how he was supposed to reply to that. All he could manage was: "It shouldn't."
For a while, she didn't say anything else. He could see the way she was frowning though, the way she worried. She could still hear parts of him that weren't over the long years he'd lost, he knew— and he softened under her gaze. He let her adjust his sleeves, fix his tie, even button up the suit once all was said and done. He didn't resist again when she actually twisted open the concealer and actually started to apply it.
She was certain he'd look like a completely different person when she was done.
"Simon, is there anything you want to talk about?" Athena looked him in the eyes.
He wasn't lying, she decided, when he replied, "No."
He was soft-spoken, declining her gently. She stepped back then to admire her work and didn't push the issue further. There was a smile, suggesting she was satisfied. "Then I guess it's my turn to get dressed."
"Aura doesn't like to be kept waiting," he agreed.
His smirk returned, but he was only met with Athena's back as she headed back towards the bathroom. "Don't mess anything up! I'll be right back."
The door shut behind her. His shoulders fell, and he suddenly felt a lot less tense as he made himself comfortable on their couch. It would be his first Christmas he would celebrate as a free man, with his sister no less, who was also free now.
No, he didn't feel like talking about it. He had shed enough tears to last a lifetime—enough tears to leave those marks. He certainly didn't want to cry anymore. Just knowing that he could was enough.
Her support was the best gift he could ask for.