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Apollo’s leg jittered as he waited at the dentist’s office. He couldn’t tell how long Klavier’s appointment had been--he lost track a long time ago and hadn’t bothered to check his phone. The clock on the wall behind the receptionist’s desk wasn’t much help either since its hands were perpetually stuck at 3:20. Time didn’t matter much to Apollo anyway. He was simply doing a favor for his not-quite-but-almost boyfriend, and what better way to demonstrate the strength of their relationship than to give rides when one cannot be trusted to operate a vehicle?
Feeling the boredom gnaw at this sides, Apollo glanced at the pile of magazines on the table a fifth time. At random, he picked up a wildlife magazine and idly flipped through the pages. Nothing interested him until he came across a glossy, two-page spread of breathtaking photography. Apollo was engrossed in an article outlining the lifecycle of salamanders when Klavier Gavin staggered into the lobby. Apollo looked up from his magazine and noticed that Klavier’s dentist was following close behind.
“Are you the person Klavier refers to as ‘Herr Forehead’?” the dentist said, twisting her mouth as if she regretted asking the question in the first place. “He seems to know you, but I wanted to make sure.”
“Ah, yes!” He flipped the magazine closed and stood up from his chair. “I’m his boy–er, his ride. His ride home.”
“Okay, great,” she said. There was no change in her expression as she said this, making Apollo hope she chose not to acknowledge his slip up from before. She did, however, give him a gentle smile as she handed off a somewhat dazed Klavier to him. “Make sure he gets some rest and make sure he doesn’t drink anything from a straw.”
“Got it,” he said as he took Klavier by the arm. Klavier then took this as an invitation to lean on him more than necessary, nearly toppling the two over onto a nearby potted plant.
Apollo knew he’d be in for a rough afternoon.
The prosecutor sitting next to him was slouched in the passenger’s seat, seemingly perplexed by the seatbelt secured across his chest. Fortunately for Apollo, Klavier didn’t have the motor skills to unbuckle himself from the seat, let alone escape. It was a struggle to convince him to get into his car. Klavier objected on account of the color, insisting that beige was an “über gross” color for a car (it was actually blue) and that he wouldn’t get into another vehicle unless it was a party bus.
Once Apollo wrestled him into submission and buckled him tight into the passenger’s seat, Klavier leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes with hands folded peacefully in his lap. Apollo thought Klavier almost looked like the perfect angel. Almost.
He knew more than anyone else that at heart, Klavier Gavin was nothing more than an overgrown toddler with a guitar and nice hair. And that was on his good days.
“Ready to go home to your swanky apartment?” Apollo asked as he turned on the ignition.
“Sure,” Klavier said. His voice had lost most of its oomph and it was more like a sigh than anything else. Apollo acknowledged that his accent did seem a bit stronger, however he chalked it up to his overactive imagination.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Klavier moved one shoulder in what appeared as a shrug. He didn’t seem to want to say anything else.
Still.
No snarking about his forehead, no random German colloquialisms...Apollo realized he could get used to this side of Klavier as they pulled out of the parking lot. However, it wasn’t long until he found the silence to be uncharacteristic and unnerving. As soon as Apollo got onto the highway, he decided to engage the drugged up Klavier in a nice conversation.
“How are you feeling, Klavier?”
Klavier thought about it for a moment before pushing his sunglasses up with his thumb and index finger. “Es geht mir gut.” Then his head lolled to the side and the sunglasses slipped down his nose. Apollo glanced over long enough to catch sight of the two blank blue eyes drilling holes into his head. “Why’d you ask?”
“No reason,” Apollo said. “It’s just that your face is swollen and it looks kind of funny.”
Klavier brought a hand to his face and poked at his cheeks. He didn’t seem to have the sense to be offended, but he did find a new sense of amazement at the numbness of his mouth. “Ach.”
“Hey, try not to touch your face too much,” Apollo warned. Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached out to Klavier’s hands, only to be slapped away. “Ow! Okay, fine. Have it your way.”
From then on, Apollo decided to keep his hands at the 9 and 3 o’clock position on the steering wheel. He could tease Klavier later once they were in his apartment.
“Danke, Apollo,” Klavier said.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because I’m very handsome.”
“Okay,” he said. After a few beats of silence, he added, “I thought you were thanking me for taking time out of my busy day to give you a ride home from the dentist, but I’ll accept that.”
“Danke.”
“You’re welcome.”
Klavier turned away, suddenly more interested in the scenery outside his window than their heartfelt exchange. His fingers drummed against the armrest and he began to shift in his seat. Apollo was about to ask him to stop moving around so much, but Klavier stopped as abruptly as he started. He leaned back again and sighed dramatically.
“Something on your mind, Klav?”
“Achtung!” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. He uncrossed them to gesture towards his door and let out a pathetic whine. “Your windows are so primitive.”
“Primitive, eh?” Apollo said. Figuring they were now stuck in standstill traffic, he thought it might be fun to egg him on. “That’s a pretty big word for you, Gavin.”
Klavier pressed his palm against the glass and Apollo cringed at the smudge he left behind. “But I want the window to be free.”
“If you want to open your window, you have to use the crank and roll it down manually,” he said, not quite understanding how he knew the meaning behind Klavier’s nonsense. He reminded himself to grill him for this later and somehow convince him to wash his car for him. “I can’t do it right now because I’m driving. This is an old car.”
He sighed again. Several minutes passed before Klavier decided to speak his mind. “I want to eat pfannkuchen and go dancing.”
“You can have water and some weak chicken broth when you get home.”
“That’s so uncool.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, no longer pretending to be interested.
He was more focused on his driving now that they were getting closer to the more difficult part of getting to Klavier’s place. And he didn’t want to circle around the neighborhood with an increasingly agitated rockstar. He was getting tired himself. What he wasn’t sure of was whether it’s because he hated driving or if it was because post-wisdom teeth removal Klavier was exhausting to keep entertained.
“We’re almost home, so sit tight.”
“Ja, I’m pressing my thumbs.”
“...I really don’t know how to respond to that.”
The rest of the ride home went without too much trouble. Klavier tried turning on the radio at one point, but ended up turning on the heat at full blast. Other than that, he kept his hands to himself and rambled incoherent German phrases. Once or twice during the ride, he started crying. But that quickly ended when Apollo asked him about his motorcycle.
When Apollo finally pulled into a parking space in the underground garage, he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked over to the blond who seemed oblivious to his surroundings.
“Do you recognize this place, Klavier?”
“Nein,” he said, squinting through his sunglasses. He licked his lips and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s too dark.”
Apollo groaned, reached over the seat to Klavier, and removed his sunglasses for him. Klavier stared at him as if he had performed some sort of miracle. Apollo folded up the sunglasses and tucked them into his own shirt, for fear that Klavier might break them. They were Prada sunglasses, after all.
“You’re home, Klavier,” he said while unbuckling his seatbelt. He then leaned back in his seat and laughed. His stomach hurt. “And to be honest, it was the most stressful car drive I’ve ever had.”
Klavier hummed a few notes of what Apollo believed to be the beginning of one of his songs. He couldn’t tell. Instead of asking, he exited the car and was now confronted with trying to convince Klavier to come along with him.
“We can listen to music at your apartment,” Apollo said, reaching over Klavier’s lap. “Let’s unbuckle your seatbelt. You must be exhausted. I know I am.”
“But Apollo,” Klavier whined. “The party’s just getting started, ja?”
Apollo took Klavier’s arm and slung it around his shoulders. The prosecutor slipped, but Apollo had a good enough grip that he didn’t end up face first on the concrete floor. He just hoped that the Klavier wouldn’t blame him for the new bruise on his knee once he came to his senses.
“What party?” Apollo said, sucking in a deep breath. He never knew how heavy Klavier was when he’s lost all of his coordination. In the back of his mind, he knew it would’ve been much easier if only he himself had been a bit taller.
“It’s the best party,” Klavier insisted. If only he were this convincing in court. “It’s the best party ever, so don’t even start with me, Herr Forehead. It’s good and it’s fun.”
“Are you sure I’m invited? I don’t recall getting an invitation.”
“You’re always invited to my parties, Apollo,” he slurred. When they got to the elevator, he leaned over and rest his head on Apollo’s shoulder. “Always, always, always.”
Apollo huffed, but only because the elevator was stuck on the third floor for what seemed like an abnormally long time. He pat Klavier’s head reassuringly. It was easier keeping Klavier upright when they weren’t moving. “Can I get that statement in writing?”
“You don’t need one,” he said. “All you have to say is that you’re Apollo Justice and you’ll be fine as hell.”
“No, I think I need a written statement. It’s important.”
“It’s not as important as my party.”
“Sure, okay,” he said.
The elevator bell dinged. After they got onto the elevator, Klavier appeared to forget everything about his party as he sighed into Apollo’s shirt collar.
Apollo might’ve been exhausted before, but now he was near his breaking point. He’d successfully unlocked the door to Klavier’s apartment and wrangled him onto the couch with an excessive amount of pillows and blankets. As soon as Klavier’s pretty little head hit the stack of pillows, he drifted off to sleep. Apollo, on the other hand, struggled to remember which remote closed the curtains and which remote was meant for the flat-screen TV, the stereo, and a mysterious third and fourth remote that even Klavier had no idea what they were for.
“Finally!” Apollo whispered as the curtains closed shut. The effect was almost night and day. Even the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees after the sun’s rays were blocked. Apollo had half a mind to ask Klavier what kind of material would do such a thing.
He placed the remote on the end table next to where Klavier slept and wandered into the kitchen. Just because the prosecutor had to eat glorified baby food for the next few days doesn’t mean he shouldn’t help himself to whatever fancy food Klavier kept in his refrigerator. He deserved it.
Almost a half an hour later, Klavier need Apollo’s attention again. He was in the middle of reading the newspaper when Klavier woke up. And from the urgency in Klavier’s voice, it sounded like he was dying of thirst.
“What do you want to drink?” Apollo shouted. He stood in front the refrigerator again and was overwhelmed by the options. Picking out food for himself was easy enough since he’d only grabbed the items he’d recognized, but drinks were a different story. He didn’t even know where to start.
“Water.”
Apollo narrowed his eyes at his choices. The man had everything from mineral to coconut water. “Sparkling or–?”
“Just plain water, ja.”
He closed the refrigerator and walked over to the sink. On the faucet, there was a strange-looking contraption that Apollo faintly recognized as a water filter. He shrugged, reached into the cabinet and brought out a tall glass. The filter blinked red when he turned it on and he hoped it wasn’t an issue or anything. He shrugged again and figured that drinking a little unfiltered city water wouldn’t hurt Klavier.
“Here’s your plain water,” Apollo said.
“Danke.” In a rather ungraceful flourish, Klavier gulped the water down with most of it spilling out of the corners of his mouth.
Before Apollo could hand him a napkin, he had already wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He settled back into his makeshift bed and closed his eyes. Apollo was prepared to go back to the dining room table to finish reading the funnies when Klavier stopped him.
“Can you sing to me? A lullaby, perhaps?”
“Absolutely not.”
Klavier didn’t seem to understand at first. When Apollo crossed his arms across his chest, he got the message. “Bitte!”
“My Chords of Steel are for the courtroom and the courtroom only,” he said. “Not for singing.”
Klavier sat up and rubbed his jaw. “But your voice must keep me company! Apollo, I beg!”
Figuring Klavier wouldn’t remember it anyway, Apollo agreed to embarrass himself by butchering some music. He was in a better mood now that he had something to eat and in a strange way, it sounded like fun. The only problem was that Apollo could only think of boring folk songs. While there was a possibility that folk music might put Klavier back to sleep, he decided to pick a song he’d actually like.
He went up to the edge of the couch near Klavier’s feet and sat down. “Fine, I’ll sing one song and that’s it. You got that?”
“Ja! Perfect.”
Apollo rolled his eyes because he knew as soon as would finish one song, he’d want another. But should he sing? Preferably he’d make Klavier regret it after the first couple of notes.
“Um, Klav?” Apollo knew he’d regret asking, but his mind was at a blank. “Do you have any requests?”
“Ja, achtung!” he said and immediately started humming the beginning of a song while snapping his fingers.
Apollo stared. “Um, I don’t know that one, Klav. A song title would be nice–”
“Listen baby! Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low...”
The timbre of Klavier’s voice was strangely coherent. However, Apollo attributed to muscle memory, considering that music was Klavier’s second love. When Klavier stopped singing and gave him an expecting stare, Apollo struggled to sing the next stanza in a shaky, out of pitch voice. He was definitely out of his league on this one.
But a promise is a promise.
“If you need me, call me,” Apollo droned. “No matter where you are, no matter how far. Just call my name!”
Despite his reservations, he could feel his voice growing stronger as Klavier listened on. It was an easy song to sing, even though he did feel a bit silly for singing a duet entirely about himself. After he hit the last note, the sound hung in the air for a while before settling in the room. Apollo’s ears were heating up too much and he didn’t dare look to Klavier for his reaction. He waited for the inevitable laughter.
“Apollo!”
“What? Did I do something wrong?”
“Your voice,” he said, “is like a combination of Fergie and Jesus!”
“Aw, come on!” Apollo said. He stared at the floor and ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re going to compliment on my horrible singing, at least use a quote from a good movie.”
“Schön,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Your voice is so,” he began. He stopped himself and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Schön.”
“Schön, you say?” He knew what that meant and couldn’t help but preen at this compliment. It was definitely better than the Fergie comment. Apollo cocked his head and noticed that Klavier raising a crumpled blanket to his face. “Wait, are you crying?”
“These tears,” Klavier said, wiping them away with a brisk gesture of his hand. “They are tears of joy. Danke, danke, Apollo.”
Apollo was torn between saying something along the lines of “you’re taking this joke a bit too far” and “you’re being strangely sentimental.” He bit them back because although Klavier was definitely out of sorts from the pain medication, his words held a genuine weight.
He put a hand on Klavier’s knee. “Well in that case, I’m glad I can make you happy.”