Chapter Text
Apollo had been called many different things throughout his life, and, for the most part, they were positive. A bright kid, people would say. Passionate, sensitive, diligent, a good son, a loving brother. Growing up in the spotlight, it was natural for him to hear such things on a daily basis, what with the world’s eyes being on him. One thing he absolutely hated being called, however, was a prodigy.
“You need to control the temper on that boy, Thalassa. I mean, really!”
“Father, please, you know he doesn’t want you saying those things to him - ”
“Nonsense! What kind of child doesn’t want to be called a genius?”
“Are Mommy and Grandpa fighting again?” Trucy poked her head underneath the tablecloth where Apollo had been hiding. His knees were tucked into his chest, his eyes fixated so intensely at the golden bracelet hanging off his skinny wrist that it was as if he were trying to burn a hole through its metal alloy.
Apollo managed a weak smile, reaching over to ruffle his sister’s hair affectionately. “Yeah, sorry, it’s my fault. Did they scare you?”
“I’m not scared!” Trucy insisted, crawling under the craft service table to join him. “But we gotta rehearse soon, and Mommy said she was gonna watch me practice my hoop trick today.”
“They’ll be done soon,” Apollo reassured her. “Grandpa’s just mad ‘cos he knows if he yells at me, I’m gonna fight back. If he yells at Mom...she just wants him to calm down and let things go.”
Trucy let out a disgruntled sigh, shuffling closer so she could curl into his side, tucking herself neatly underneath his cherry-red cape. She was tiny for an eight-year-old, as was Apollo for a fifteen-year-old, neither of them seemingly inheriting their mother’s height. They had, however, inherited something else of hers, passed down from their grandfather - her gift of perception, along with her love of magic.
Troupe Gramarye was a famous magical troupe with millions of fans of all generations worldwide, their performance history spanning decades, stretching back to their grandfather’s humble beginnings in his youth. Apollo and Trucy, the third generation of performers in the Gramarye family, had only recently started performing together, as Trucy had debuted on her eighth birthday like Apollo had done on his tenth. They were instantly loved by fans old and new, finding them to be a refreshing take on the troupe’s classic acts.
Being the more outgoing of the two, Trucy had taken to the attention immediately, while Apollo had been - and still was - more reluctant. He knew his life wasn’t like a typical teenager’s; for one thing, he’d been homeschooled his entire life, he only had one friend (Clay, a boy he’d met during a temporary gig at the Cosmos Space Center), and he had posters and show programs and cameras shoved in his face wherever he went. Apollo was also on the unfortunate receiving end of creepy love letters that showed up in the troupe’s fanmail. His grandfather took it all in stride.
“Who knows, my boy? Maybe one of them will be from your future wife,” he’d chuckled.
“Um...right,” Apollo had mumbled into his jacket sleeve.
Thalassa had immediately sensed his discomfort and rounded on her father. “Apollo is still young, I’d rather not think of him getting married just yet.”
When Apollo came out on his thirteenth birthday to the other members of the troupe, voice trembling and knees shaking, the reception he’d received had been somewhat mixed. Thalassa and Trucy were proud of him, of course, enveloping him in tight hugs and sloppy cheek kisses. Uncle Valant had clapped Apollo on the shoulder and declared him a brave young man. Zak, Trucy’s father and Thalassa’s ex-husband, had barely batted an eyelash, having long stopped caring about anyone but himself, maybe Trucy on occasion. Magnifi had been furious.
“What will everyone think?! What will those young girls think?!” he had cried.
“I wasn’t gonna marry ‘em anyway, even if I did like girls!” Apollo had yelled back, his face burning hot, his eyes full of tears.
It had turned into a shouting match, mostly with Thalassa and Valant trying to reason with Magnifi while Zak displayed a rare moment of interest in parenting and had sheltered Apollo and Trucy from his wrath. Magnifi eventually, begrudgingly, accepted Apollo later on in his own roundabout way, though he still had a habit of boasting about Apollo in public and berating him in private, especially when Apollo complained about the pressure he was under. They hadn’t really gotten along ever since.
“Where are the children now, anyway?” Magnifi’s voice grew louder now, his shoes clicking against the floor until they came to a stop in front of the craft service table. He let out a long sigh. “Apollo, Trucy...what on earth are you doing under there?”
“Oh, uh, hey, Grandpa,” Apollo said sheepishly, crawling out from under the table with Trucy’s tiny hand in his. “Would you believe we were playing hide-and-seek?”
Magnifi’s eyes narrowed. “Not for a second. Now come, to the stage with you. We need to do at least two full run-throughs of the third act before tonight’s show, so let’s not waste our time here.”
Hours later, when the final curtain drew closed, the members of the troupe were buzzing with adrenaline backstage, surrounded by production assistants and costumers and makeup artists, the noise growing louder and louder with every passing minute. Thalassa, Apollo, and Trucy, what with their sensitive hearing, were settled comfortably on a couch, far away from the madness. The children were half-asleep with their heads in Thalassa’s lap when she was approached by the stage manager. “Excuse me, Ms. Thalassa, sorry for interrupting. There’s a kid from the audience who wanted to meet you. I can tell him you’re busy if you’d like.”
“Ah, no, not at all. I would love to meet him,” Thalassa insisted, straightening up, careful not to disturb her drowsy children. “Did you happen to get his name?”
“No, ma’am, but it seems like he was followed by fans of his own. He’s a musician, I think. I’ll go get him, then.” The stage manager left, then returned a few minutes later with a young man - a teenager, really - who wore a generous display of silver jewelry and a bright smile.
Apollo, despite his sleepiness, couldn’t help but look the other boy up and down. He never really got the chance to meet kids his age that weren’t enthusiastic fans in large crowds and audiences, all of them too loud and intimidating for him to connect with. This boy was almost objectively gorgeous, tall with short blond hair and intensely blue eyes mostly concealed by his sunglasses, tilted down the length of his nose. He was dressed in a leather jacket, skinny jeans, and combat boots, wore smoky eyeliner and clear lipgloss. To Apollo, he seemed like a show-off, the kind of person who lived for attention and would do anything to get it. He withdrew back into his mother’s side, disappointed.
“Guten tag,” the boy said in an affected accent that Apollo couldn’t quite believe was real. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Fräulein Gramarye.”
“Not at all,” Thalassa beamed, leaning forward to shake his hand. “Please, call me Thalassa. And you are…?”
The boy took her hand and kissed it. “Klavier Gavin, of the Gavinners. I must admit, I’ve only recently become aware of Troupe Gramarye, but I haven’t missed a show since. As a musician, I’m especially a big fan of your ‘Siren of the Ballad’ interlude. Your voice is truly divine.”
“You are too kind, Mr. Gavin,” Thalassa laughed. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of the Gavinners. Your band, I assume?”
“Ja, and I’m the lead singer,” Klavier nodded, grinning eagerly. “We just released our first album a few months ago.”
Apollo frowned. “Are you here to promote your band?”
“Ah - nein, I just thought I would mention it,” Klavier replied, his voice faltering. “I’m a fan of yours as well, Herr Gramarye.”
“My name is Apollo Justice,” Apollo said through gritted teeth, briefly thinking of his father, gone far too soon. Thalassa laid her hand over his, silently telling him to relax. Trucy shuffled uncomfortably on her other side. “When people introduce themselves to my mom, they either want her to invite them to perform with her, or they want her to connect them to her producers. So...which one are you?”
“Apollo, sweetheart, please,” Thalassa murmured. “My apologies, Mr. Gavin, my son is quite tired. Perhaps we can talk elsewhere?” Nodding, Klavier followed her across the room, though he cast one quick, curious glance at Apollo before he did. Apollo scowled back.
Trucy prodded Apollo in the arm, directing his attention back to her. “You didn’t hafta be so mean, Polly. Mr. Gavin seems nice!”
“Nice? If he’s so nice, why did he talk so much about himself?” Apollo huffed.
“Uh, ‘cos Mommy asked?” Trucy pointed out. “You should say sorry. He looked sad.”
The two of them turned to watch Thalassa and Klavier, now conversing easily like they were old friends. “I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Apollo grumbled, sinking back into the couch cushions, his arms folded defensively across his chest.
“Who is that with your mother?” They looked up to see Magnifi standing over them, a gleam in his eye suggesting that his great mind was already at work.
“Klavier Gavin, lead singer of some band called the Gavinners,” Apollo replied. “He said he’s a fan of Mom’s voice.”
“Handsome young man, isn’t he?” Magnifi remarked, his eyes still locked on Klavier in the distance. “He looks to be around your age, too.”
Apollo blinked. “Uh, Grandpa, you aren’t - ”
“It was just a thought,” Magnifi interrupted, frowning. He was called away by one of the production assistants before Apollo could find his voice long enough to respond.
Apollo stared after him, still flabbergasted. “...is it just me, or was Grandpa trying to set me up?”
“Dunno. Doesn’t seem like something he’d do.” Trucy then yawned, crawling into Apollo’s lap and settling down, not unlike a cat. “Polly, ‘m tired.”
“We’ll be going home soon,” Apollo promised, wrapping his arms around her so she wouldn’t slip out of his grasp.
“What’re we doing tomorrow?” she asked, half-mumbling into Apollo’s chest.
“Costume fittings in the morning, gymnastics in the afternoon, and then Mom’s taking you to Jinxie’s for a sleepover,” Apollo replied, running his fingers through her hair.
“Gymnastics? I still got a bruise on my knee from last time. I don’t wanna go,” Trucy whined, her tone petulant.
“I know, I know, but Grandpa says we have to have a diverse range of talents to use in future magic acts,” Apollo said, wincing. He always hated echoing their grandfather’s words.
Trucy looked up at him, her dark blue eyes round and imploring. “Did you tell him you wanna quit?”
“Hey, keep it down,” Apollo hissed, glancing around for eavesdroppers. “And n-no, of course not. You know he won’t let me. He’d just say my dreams are stupid and pointless.”
“Then he’s stupid an’ pointless,” Trucy muttered churlishly. Apollo continued to look around uneasily, his expression morphing into a frown when he saw Thalassa and Klavier coming back over, the latter sporting a too-wide grin.
“I’ll be off now,” Klavier said as if Apollo cared. “It was good to meet you all. Take care, ja?”
“Bye, Mr. Gavin,” Trucy managed to say in her sleepy stupor. Apollo didn’t say anything at all, his glare following Klavier’s retreating figure out the door.
Thalassa leaned over to gently take Apollo’s chin between her fingers, tilting his head upwards so their eyes would meet. “Apollo, there was no need to be so hostile. Klavier seems like a wonderful young man. I think you two could be good friends.”
“I don’t need more friends. I already have Clay,” Apollo protested.
“Yes, but Clay is…” Thalassa hesitated, releasing him, unsure of whether to say more.
Apollo’s expression darkened. “...it’s not like that anymore, Mom. I’m not - h-he’s, he said he - ”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have said anything.” Thalassa kissed his temple, then Trucy’s. “Shall we go home?”
“Wait, I wanna say bye to Daddy first!” Trucy hopped off of Apollo’s lap and took off in search of Zak before either of them could stop her, leaving them to wait in awkward silence. Apollo glanced down at his hands, twisting them anxiously.
“Clay and I...we’re fine now, okay?” Apollo said quietly. “We...we’ve talked about it. We’re fine.”
“Okay,” Thalassa said, her melodic voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, sweetheart, I hear you.” Apollo nodded, grateful she didn’t push further, though once Trucy returned and the three of them left the venue, Thalassa couldn’t help but worry about Apollo’s unusual silence carrying on the entire way home.
While Apollo was not a forgetful person, he would have liked to forget his initial encounter with Klavier had ever even happened. Hell, he would have preferred that Klavier didn’t exist. And yet, a few days later, when Troupe Gramarye was performing at a museum exhibit opening, he spotted a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd.
“What is he doing here?” Apollo seethed the moment he stormed backstage, followed by a harried production assistant trying to hand off his next set of props. “Did Mom invite him?”
“Polly, you gotta focus,” Trucy pleaded. “You almost tripped!”
“I know, I know, I just - he’s right in front and he’s surrounded by a bunch of people who are definitely here for him and not us, and - ” Apollo let out a frustrated groan, ripping his cape off almost violently. “Ugh, of course he’s got groupies.”
“Groupies?” Trucy repeated, confused. “What’s that?”
“Please, just take your batons already,” the production assistant begged, and there wasn’t much talking after that.
Still, when he wasn’t on stage, Apollo couldn’t stop himself from peeking through the curtains so he could watch Klavier. During Thalassa’s solo, Klavier closed his eyes, swaying on the spot, seemingly absorbing every last note of her song. Apollo’s expression softened. If someone really enjoyed his mother’s voice that much, they couldn’t be all that bad.
After their performance was over and the crowd had dispersed to view the exhibit, Apollo and Trucy changed into their regular clothes and went out to take a look for themselves. Apollo was almost certain that their unexpected guest had left for the evening until he spotted the museum curator chatting with Magnifi, Thalassa, and Klavier in the foyer. “...oh, no.”
“Hello, Mr. Gavin!” Trucy called before Apollo could stop her, tugging eagerly on his wrist.
Klavier turned, brightening when he saw who had spoken. “Ah, guten tag! You were both wunderbar as always.”
“We were just talking about you,” the museum curator added, a friendly smile on her pleasant-looking face. “I’ve seen plenty of young talent in my line of work, and while I specialize in fine arts and not the performing arts, I can tell you two are something special.”
“Thank you so much, I-I’m glad you enjoyed the show,” Apollo said, his cheeks reddening. He never quite knew how to reply to praise from adults. “I, er, I look forward to looking around the exhibit.”
“Apollo, why don’t you and Trucy take Klavier around the museum with you?” Magnifi suggested. The mysterious gleam in his eyes had returned. “Let us not bore him with too much of us adults talking business.”
Apollo recoiled. “But - I mean, d-do I - ”
“That sounds like an ausgezeichnet idea,” Klavier interrupted, smiling easily. “I would love your company.”
“Sure you would,” Apollo muttered, defeated. “Fine, let’s go.”
The three of them walked around the museum, or more accurately, Trucy led Klavier around the museum while Apollo sulked in silence behind them. She talked at a mile per minute, asking Klavier all sorts of questions about his music career.
“So you’re in a band, Mr. Gavin?” “Bitte, just call me Klavier. And ja, I am.” “Do you write your own songs?” “Yes, all of them.” “Do you play an instrument?” “I sing and play the guitar, but I also grew up playing the piano.” “How many people are in your band?” “Five, including me.” “Why did you wanna be in a band?” “To make music that people will love.”
Her interrogation continued on and on, none of them paying much mind to the artwork. They were occasionally stopped by other visitors, people who wanted autographs and selfies with them. Apollo managed to plaster on a genuine smile long enough to please his fans, though he was annoyed when the teenagers seemed far more interested in Klavier than him or Trucy. It was an unusual feeling, given how he usually hated the attention, but seeing them get starry-eyed over Klavier made his stomach churn.
“What happened to your groupies, anyway?” Apollo grouched after the sixth time Klavier had been stopped in the past hour.
“Groupies?” Klavier said curiously. “Ah, you must mean the fans from earlier. I posted about attending the exhibit opening on Instagram and was hoping I could get people interested in your performance or the artwork. Unfortunately, I think they just came here to see me and left as soon as they realized I wanted to stick around for the exhibit itself.”
Apollo snorted. “You posted about this on Instagram? Seriously?”
“I wanted people to enjoy the arts as much as I do,” Klavier said defensively. “Besides, I only have about a quarter-million followers, the vast majority of them living around the world. It’s not like there would’ve been a mob.”
“Sure, sure,” Apollo muttered. He could hide his distaste no longer. “Only a quarter-million, sure.”
Klavier hesitated. “Do you...have a problem with me, Apollo?”
“What tipped you off?” Apollo retorted. Trucy pinched his arm in warning.
“If I did something to offend you, I apologize,” Klavier said, frowning. “Believe me, my enjoyment of your family’s troupe is real. The only thing I’m more passionate about than art and music is law.”
Now it was Apollo’s turn to look confused. “Wait...what?”
Klavier smiled faintly, stepping closer as if Apollo had invited him to do so. “When I’m not Klavier Gavin, up-and-coming rockstar, I’m Prosecutor Gavin, the youngest employee at the prosecutor’s office. Well, if you don’t count interns, that is.”
Apollo stared at him, open-mouthed. “You...you’re not serious? You’re a prosecutor?!”
Klavier glanced back and forth between the Gramarye siblings. “Ja, why?”
“Polly’s gonna be a lawyer someday,” Trucy interjected, a gleeful grin on her face. “He’s gonna quit magic and go to law school!”
“Trucy!” Apollo cried, diving to clap his hand over her mouth. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone, remember?!”
“Keine sorge, keine sorge,” Klavier soothed, though Apollo had no idea what it meant. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise. You don’t want your family to find out yet, ja?”
Apollo rounded on him, his glare piercing. “Good guess, genius. Of course I don’t want them to know I plan on leaving the family business!”
Klavier’s frown returned, deeper this time. “Ach, I said I wasn’t going to tell. Why are you being so aggressive?”
Apollo blinked, finally releasing his grip on Trucy, who’d been seconds away from stomping on his foot to get him to let go. “But I...I’m not - ”
“Um, excuse me? Klavier, could I - can I get your autograph?” The three of them turned to see a teenage boy standing behind them, holding out a scrap of paper with his trembling hands.
“Oh, I - of course, I would love to. Just give me a moment to finish talking to my friend,” Klavier said, flashing the boy a tight smile.
“No, you, um. You go ahead,” Apollo said, taking a step back.
Klavier nodded gratefully, then went to take the paper from the boy, pulling a Sharpie out of his pants pocket. “Now, who should I make this out to? Is there anything special you’d like me to write?”
After the boy made his request and Klavier began carefully fulfilling it, he then turned his nervous gaze onto Apollo. “Uh, i-is he your boyfriend?” Apollo startled at the question, but Klavier seemed unfazed.
“Nein, he’s not. Apollo is a member of Troupe Gramarye, the group that performed here earlier. He’s very talented,” Klavier added with a wry grin. “There you go. Did you want a picture, too?”
“Oh, um, no, I-I’m okay. My face, it’s, uh - ” The poor boy seemed moments away from breaking out into a sweat.
“Your face is what?” Klavier pressed, his expression softening. “Your face is perfectly suited for photos is what you meant to say, ja?”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “...right. You’re right.”
Apollo watched, astonished, as Klavier slung his arm over the boy’s shoulders like they were best friends, patiently waiting as the boy fumbled with his phone. Klavier insisted they take several pictures until they were both satisfied. “If you post these on social media, will you tag me?” Klavier asked once they’d finished. “I want to remember that smile of yours.”
“Yeah, definitely,” the boy said; he was practically glowing by now. “Thank you so much, Klavier.”
“Auf wiedersehen, baby,” Klavier called after him as he scurried off to rejoin his friends. He turned on his heel to see Apollo and Trucy staring at him, equally wide-eyed. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I - ” Apollo felt something stir in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite identify. If anything, it felt like guilt, maybe regret, maybe something else he was unable to name. “Boyfriend?”
“Ja. I’m out to the public, like you.” Klavier held up his arm, pulling back his jacket sleeve to reveal a woven leather cuff on his wrist. It looked lovingly handmade and was pink, purple, and blue in color. “This is one of my favorite gifts I’ve ever gotten from a fan. I get bracelets, pins, and hats in the mail all the time. Along with the occasional hate, but…”
“Oh,” Apollo said faintly. “That’s, um...we have someone filter through all of our mail before passing it on to us. Safety precautions and, uh, all that.”
Klavier hummed. “Anyway, I can tell when my presence is...unwanted. You two enjoy the rest of the exhibit, ja?”
“Klavier, wait!” Trucy cried, but Klavier simply waved his goodbyes and left, disappearing into the crowd. She looked up at Apollo, her eyes narrowed. “Sheesh, Apollo. You didn’t have to be so mean - again.”
Sighing, Apollo knelt down in front of her, cupping her face in his hands, running his thumb across her cheek. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that, Trucy, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she mumbled. “Can we go find Mommy now? I don’t really wanna look at stuff anymore.”
“Sure.” Apollo straightened up, taking her by the hand. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for tonight, anyway.”
As a performer, Apollo knew things often came in threes. It was a nice, neat number, an expected number, that made things like recurring jokes in comedy shows or running gags in magic performances feel just right. So, about a week after the exhibit opening, when Troupe Gramarye was hired by some rich diplomat to perform at his estate for his daughter’s birthday, he was hardly surprised to hear that they’d also hired a particular band for the opening act.
“Entschuldigung, is this where the performers are supposed to set up their - oh.” There was a pause. “Apollo, it...seems like we can’t stay away from each other, can we?”
Apollo groaned inwardly. “If I don’t turn around, he isn’t really here,” he mumbled to himself.
“Yo, Klavier, who’s this?” a new voice asked, a hint of mirth in his tone. Apollo glanced in his dressing table mirror’s reflection to see all five members of the Gavinners staring back. The one who’d spoken was standing up front with Klavier, guitar case in hand. He had, in Apollo’s opinion, a ridiculous haircut and an even more ridiculous stage outfit, but Apollo supposed he had no room to comment on such things when he was wearing a sparkling red cape.
“Daryan, this is Apollo,” Klavier said evenly. The other band members went off on their own, exchanging wary glances as they did. Apollo wondered what had happened in the past to warrant such reactions. “Apollo, this is Daryan, second guitarist of the Gavinners.”
“Yeah, uh, hi.” Apollo wasn’t sure why Klavier was talking to him like he hadn’t exploded the last time they met.
“Rude little shit, isn’t he?” Daryan snorted, slamming his guitar case down on the floor. Apollo startled at the sound. “Jumpy, too.”
“Sorry, I…” Apollo turned in his seat so he was facing them. “...I’m just trying to concentrate. I’m debuting a new trick today, s-so I really need to focus.”
“We’ll leave you be, then,” Klavier amended, though Daryan didn’t look convinced.
“Hey, no, I think shorty’s gotta apologize first,” he said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The other Gavinners, Klavier included, looked uncomfortable. Apollo felt his temper rapidly rising, and he opened his mouth to shout back, only for someone else to step in between them first.
“He doesn’t have to do anything. He already apologized, what more do you want?” Clay growled. Though he was an inch shorter than Daryan, the other boy reeled back in surprise. He quickly recovered, though, an unpleasant sneer crossing his face.
“And who are you? His boyfriend?” Daryan snickered. His smile was far too toothy for Apollo’s liking.
“Daryan,” Klavier said sharply.
“What does it matter? You got a problem with that?” Clay barked.
“Clay,” Apollo protested, getting out of his chair to tug on Clay’s arm. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, alright? This job is important to Grandpa. If this diplomat guy likes us enough, we might get to perform at the welcoming ceremony at the embassy next month.”
“Goody two-shoes, huh?” Daryan seemed to have no intention of stopping, even though Clay had moved back.
“Daryan! Halt die Fresse,” Klavier snapped. “Be professional, or don’t be here at all. Verstehst du?”
Grumbling, Daryan picked up his guitar case and swaggered off to join the other band members, waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”
Klavier turned back to address Apollo, but Clay already had an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close. “You okay, man?”
“Trust me, he’s not the first asshole I’ve run into during a gig, and he definitely won’t be the last,” Apollo sighed, sinking back into his seat. “Let me concentrate, alright? If I mess up this trick, I’ll end up embarrassing the entire troupe.” He glanced at the mirror’s reflection once more, only to realize that Klavier had disappeared. Apollo frowned, making a mental note to thank him later.
The Gavinners were up first, giving Apollo more time to rehearse. Only, he couldn’t concentrate over the music - or more appropriately, the noise. He glanced out the window to the estate’s backyard to watch them in quiet annoyance. The diplomat, his daughter, and dozens of family friends were watching them with rapt fascination. Klavier seemed to strut across the stage with all the confidence in the world, his fingers moving deftly over his guitar strings, his voice crooning sweetly into the microphone. It sent shivers down Apollo’s spine, though not necessarily in a good way. Shame, Apollo thought. His voice is...actually pretty good.
It was then that Apollo started really paying attention to the lyrics. He soon realized they were, funnily enough, about the law. Something about doing hard time for love, love with no chance of parole...oh please, Apollo thought with a roll of his eyes. And here, I thought I was finally starting to take Gavin seriously. He turned away from the window, his attention back on his props.
After both the Gavinners and Troupe Gramarye had finished, the band’s manager and Magnifi were off to vie for the diplomat’s praise, leaving everyone else to mingle with the other partygoers. The birthday girl seemed most interested in socializing with Machi, Thalassa’s pianist, unsurprising since they were the same age. Trucy managed to befriend one of the girl’s cousins, abandoning Apollo in favor of running off to play with her.
Apollo soon found Klavier by the buffet table, thankfully without Daryan. “Hey, Gavin?”
Klavier glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, guten tag, Apollo. Good show as always. All that hard work you put into your new trick seems to have paid off, ja?”
“Right, thanks, um.” Apollo cleared his throat. “I also wanted to say thanks for earlier. Daryan sure is, uh…”
“Terrible?” Klavier suggested with a dry chuckle. “I apologize for his behavior. Honestly, he wasn’t like that when we first started working together. I think the Gavinners’ overnight success has gone to his head.”
“If he’s like this now, I hate to think what he’ll be like later,” Apollo remarked.
Klavier shuddered in agreement. Then, a more serious expression flickered across his face. “So, is Clay really your…”
“Boyfriend?” Apollo could feel a strange sense of déjà vu coming on. “Not...no.”
“Not no?” Klavier repeated, confused.
“He’s my best friend,” Apollo said, firmer this time. My only friend, if family doesn’t count, he thought privately. “Hey, how’d you end up getting this job, anyway? No offense, but I didn’t think the Gavinners screamed ‘diplomat’s kid’s birthday party’ material.”
“We were...recommended,” Klavier said carefully, turning away so he could start filling his plate with food.
“Yeah, by who?” Apollo asked, grabbing a plate of his own.
Klavier hesitated. “No one you know.”
For the first time since they’d met, Apollo felt his bracelet tense, its grip squeezing his wrist until his fingers felt numb. “You’re...you’re lying to me,” he said, astonished. “Why?”
“What do you mean?” Klavier spoke faster now, avoiding Apollo’s eyes.
“Answer the question, Gavin,” Apollo said, his eyebrows knitting together.
Klavier swallowed thickly. “It was...your grandfather, Magnifi, he - he said he wants to keep me close by.”
Apollo glanced across the expansive dining hall (and honestly, who had a dining hall in their own house) to watch his grandfather conversing intently with the diplomat near the chocolate fountain, casually twirling a playing card between his practiced fingers. Knowing Magnifi, it was none other than the king of spades. “What for?”
“That, I don’t know,” Klavier admitted. Apollo’s bracelet relaxed; he felt like he could breathe again. “He wanted to talk to me today, but he wouldn’t say what about.” When Apollo motioned for more details, he could only shrug. “Really, that’s all I have to tell you. That was all he said to me at the museum, you know, after you...well…”
“...after I got pissed at you for nothing,” Apollo said quietly. He finally looked back at Klavier, who had long stopped looking at him. “Look, I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I’ve got...y’know, trust issues. When you wanted to talk to my mom, when Trucy told you my secret, I flipped out, I...I panicked, a-and...well, that’s on me, not you.”
Klavier turned to meet his gaze, his expression softening. “Danke, Apollo, I appreciate it. Still, I hate that I upset you.”
“No, really, I - ” But before Apollo could finish his sentence, they were swiftly interrupted by someone else.
“Ah, perfect! Just the boys I was hoping to see,” Magnifi boomed. He clapped both of them on the shoulders, causing their silverware to rattle on their plates. “Come, I want to speak to you.”
“Huh? Both of us?” Apollo put his empty plate back down. “What is it?”
“Not here, my boy,” Magnifi said firmly. “Follow me.”
Magnifi led them away from the party, up the spiral staircase to the library on the second floor. His footsteps were brisk, like he thought someone was following them, only stopping when Apollo and Klavier took a seat on the plush couch in the middle of the room. He shut the door behind him, his ink-black cape whirling dramatically about his ankles as he did.
“Grandpa, what’s going on?” Apollo urged.
“I have a...proposal, if you will,” Magnifi began, his voice every bit as powerful as it sounded when he was on stage. “You see, the troupe has been doing...fine, but I’ll admit that we’ve been slipping with one particular demographic as of late. Now, children love us, families love us, seniors love us, but - ”
“But teenagers don’t,” Apollo finished, nodding.
“Don’t interrupt me,” Magnifi said sharply. “And do you know what teenagers actually love?” A devious smirk crossed his face. “Rock music.”
“What decade is this?” Apollo muttered. The couch trembled from how hard Klavier was trying not to laugh.
“And so, naturally, a genius idea came to me in the form of a certain rock band,” Magnifi continued, ignoring them both. He began to pace back and forth in front of the towering bookshelves at a dizzying rate. “It all started with that wristband of yours.”
“You mean this?” Klavier drew back his sleeve, revealing the handmade leather cuff. Apollo silently wondered whether to ask Klavier where he could get one of his own, one in the full spectrum of the rainbow.
“Klavier, what would you say if I were to offer you the chance of a lifetime, to introduce you to all of my industry contacts and to take your band on an international tour with our troupe and make you more famous than you could ever imagine?” Magnifi had his back turned on them now, breath hitched in anticipation.
Klavier hesitated. “I would say...is there more to it than just that?”
“Why, I’m glad you asked.” Magnifi swept around to face them, his arms spread wide. “If you want people to start talking about you, and I mean really talk, there is nothing the press loves more than a fleeting celebrity romance. So, my proposal is this - be my grandson’s boyfriend, and I’ll make us both richer than our wildest dreams.”
“Grandpa!” Apollo cried, astonished. “You...you can’t be serious!”
“You won’t be together for real, of course,” Magnifi added. “I know how you feel about that Clay boy, Apollo. That will have to wait.”
Hot tears of embarrassment started to burn in Apollo’s eyes. “Grandpa, you know...you know th-that’s not...he...w-we aren’t - ”
“With all due respect, if it makes Apollo uncomfortable, then I’m not interested,” Klavier interrupted smoothly. Apollo hated the obvious pity written across the other boy’s face.
“Not even with a little incentive? Say, an upfront bonus?” Magnifi offered, not even sparing a glance at Apollo’s tears. Klavier slid his hand across the couch to close the space between them, his thumb brushing against Apollo’s thigh in a quiet attempt to comfort him. Apollo jerked away at his touch.
“You would put a price on your grandson’s unhappiness?” Disgust began to creep into Klavier’s voice. “Is that the kind of man you really are, Herr Gramarye?”
“Gavin…” Apollo’s voice came out more feeble than he ever wanted it to be. “Gavin,” he tried again, stronger now. His eyes were dried, though his cheeks were still flushed pink. “Grandpa’s got a point. We haven’t been making as much from tickets and merchandise as we used to, and your band is on its way to becoming the next big thing. It’s...it’s smart. And...it’s not like this is forever.”
Klavier looked at him incredulously. “Achtung, are you really considering this?”
“I get that money and fame aren’t everything. They definitely aren’t to me,” Apollo added fiercely. “But if...Trucy wants to explore her options when she’s older, go to a really good school or travel the world or whatever...money might have to be the thing.” He then let out a horrible, wet laugh. “Besides, who says this’ll work? People might not even care.”
“Nonsense, everyone loves a good love story!” Magnifi exclaimed. “And don’t you dare suggest that Trucy would do anything but perform in Troupe Gramarye for the rest of her life. She’s a natural, a gift to the world! My blood, your mother’s blood, it runs through her veins! Through your veins, Apollo!”
“Are you sure?” Klavier asked, his eyes still fixated on Apollo. “It might not seem like a big deal now, ja, but we both know how vicious people can be. One bad day, one wrong word, and both of us could be done for.”
Apollo managed a weak smile. “We hold hands in public, post a couple selfies on Instagram. What’s the worst that could happen?” And stop looking at me like that, Apollo thought viciously, tearing his eyes away. We don’t know each other well enough for you to feel sorry for me.
“Excellent!” Magnifi clapped his hands loudly, startling them both. “We’ll discuss the finer details next week, I’ll have our producer call your manager tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to convince a certain diplomat to invite us to the welcoming ceremony for the Allebahstian minister of finance.”
“Babahlese minister of education,” Apollo corrected wearily.
“Gesundheit,” Magnifi called. He was already on the other side of the room, shutting the library doors behind him.
Apollo let out a long, shaking breath, then got to his feet, his back to Klavier. “You never should’ve come to our shows.”
Klavier frowned. “Excuse me?”
“If you hadn’t come to see my mom backstage that night, this never would’ve happened. Grandpa never would’ve seen you, he never would’ve - ” Apollo suddenly rounded on him. “Did you know he wouldn’t speak to me for five months after I came out to my family? This is the first time he’s even acknowledged the idea that my relationship with Clay could possibly be more than platonic, and it’s only because he finally figured out how to financially benefit from me being gay.”
“That’s - ” Klavier faltered. “That’s awful, Apollo, I’m so sorry. And I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, I really didn’t, but...could you not have said no?”
“You’ve seen what he’s like! ‘No’ is never an option for me or anyone else about anything, ever.” Apollo’s breath started to shake again. “All that stuff you said, all it did was piss him off. And all the stuff that I said? Was to stop you from making it worse. So...here we are, stuck in some cliché plot, all so we can be rich, famous, and miserable.”
“If he won’t accept your refusal, then let me do it,” Klavier offered. “I can make a big, dramatic scene.”
“Nothing’s ever big or dramatic enough for Grandpa,” Apollo sighed, his fury slowly ebbing away, replaced with a sort of melancholic resignation that made his own heart ache. “I’ll go talk to Mom and see if she can convince him. But if not...well, I guess I’ll see you next week.” He cast Klavier one last glance. “You never should’ve come to see us, Gavin.”
“That’s not fair.” Unlike Apollo’s heated words, Klavier’s tone was ice-cold. “All I wanted to do that evening was express my admiration for someone’s talents. Do you really think I have it out for you? That I came into your life, that I was put on this earth, to make things worse for you? Nein, you did all of that on your own. Your anger, your paranoia, your total lack of trust - as you said before, that’s on you, not me. This is not my fault.”
“And I’m sure you think nothing ever is,” Apollo snapped, his volume rising once again. “You and your fake accent and your fake smile, a-and all these people falling all over you and telling you how amazing and cool and perfect you are. Has anyone ever told you what they really think of you?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to.” Klavier’s eyes were narrowed down to slits, his mouth set in a hard line. All his easy smiles, his laugh lines, were gone. For a moment, Apollo found himself wondering which was closer to his true face.
“Apollo?” Both of them turned to see Trucy standing in the doorway, wide-eyed. “I...I heard yelling. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m...I’m fine, Truce.” Apollo knew neither of them believed his words. “Have you, uh, have you eaten already? I haven’t, and I’m super hungry.” His stomach felt as if it were turning in his throat.
“Uh huh,” she said, unconvinced. “Klavier, are you coming to eat, too?”
“I...I don’t think so, fräulein. I think I might be coming down with something,” Klavier said, slowly standing up. Apollo’s bracelet squeezed in warning. “Better to go home now and get ahead of it, ja?”
Trucy clearly didn’t believe him, either, but stepped aside so he could cross the threshold. “I hope you feel better soon,” she offered, smiling brightly.
He returned her smile with a false, awful one of his own. Apollo felt it again, that guilt, that regret, that pang he couldn’t understand. “Danke, Trucy, as do I. Have a good evening, you two.” With that, he left the room, the heels of his boots clicking sharply against the marble tile of the staircase like he couldn’t leave fast enough. Trucy looked at her brother questioningly, but all Apollo could do was shake his head. As dramatic as it sounded - and oh, wouldn’t Magnifi love that - it felt like something bigger than both of them was about to begin.