Chapter Text
It had started with Kristoph telling him about forged evidence, with the disgrace of a former legend and the disappearance of the suspected murderer. It continued with his musical career skyrocketing and his brother growing ever more distant over the next seven years. Not that they'd ever been particularly close at any rate but given how their parents were dead it sometimes felt like he had no family at all. Either way Kris had been up to things Klavier was not privy to and maybe didn't want to be. (In a quiet corner of his mind, late at night when nobody could see, he wondered how Kris could have known about the forgery.)
So all things considered it came as quite a surprise when Kristoph insisted Klavier visit him. The last time they spoke was when Klavier called him on his birthday, asking how he liked the new nail polish set. And before that, there had only been a text message for Klavier’s birthday with nothing but silence after. So no, they didn't keep in touch all that much. Still, never one to deny his brother, of course Klavier had cleared his schedule, what needed clearing anyway, given how Kristoph had insisted they meet at night so he only had to reschedule a hairdresser appointment the next morning.
Unusual time for a family reunion, Klavier had thought, and was still thinking, sitting in Kristoph's apartment and sharing a bottle of wine. But who was he to complain about odd hours? He, who was a perpetual night-owl and sometimes needed to compose at three a.m. Although his brother wasacting a little… strange. Stranger even when he told Klavier he wanted to show him something in his study so if he could please leave his phone on the coffee table? Odd, even when applying sibling standards. He grinned as he pulled out his phone.
“Are you afraid I'll leak your strategy to the prosecution?” he joked and Kris smiled back without actually answering. Though when he opened the door to the study any thoughts of law fled his mind as he surveyed the… mess that littered the room. Books were strewn everywhere, some lying open with their backs broken, others buried under newspaper clips. Pieces of paper joined their fallen cousins, some crumpled, others with hastily scribbled notes pinned to a board and connected with string. And in the middle, where he was sure used to be an expensive throw rug, was a large pentagram in a circle. He turned.
“Kris, what-” Pain exploded in his chest and he looked down to see a knife stuck between his ribs. His legs buckled and Kristoph caught him, setting him on his back inside the circle. His hand went to clutch the knife only to be pulled away by his brother.
“I'd leave that in if I were you. After all, I can't have you bleeding out before I finish the ritual.”
Kristoph went about putting up candles and lighting them while Klavier lay gasping on the floor. His fingers were red from where they'd touched the knife, leaving streaks of blood on the floor when he tried to push himself up. His vision grayed and he fell back down with a sharp inhale that sent a new wave of agony through his body.
“Why?” he rasped, eyes still following Kristoph as he picked up an ancient tome and flipped through its pages.
“Why what? Speak in complete sentences, Klavier.”
Kristoph then bent down to him, cutting open his shirt to draw symbols on his chest and pulling his hands above his head and fastening them to his desk with handcuffs when Klavier tried to stop him.
“Why?” he asked again and if there were tears in his eyes then surely, those were only because of the pain in his chest.
“Because Zak Gramarye has remained far too elusive for far too long and alas, little brother, the ritual calls for someone of my own blood.” Kristoph leaned back to survey his work. “Don't worry, it'll be over soon.”
“You won't get away with this,” he said because he had seen enough movies to know this was what you were supposed to say before the dashing hero swooped in to save you.
“Oh, don't worry about it. I already have an alibi and people to confirm you were meeting with a complete stranger.” Kristoph paused to rearrange the candles slightly. “I do hope you haven't needlessly squandered my inheritance,” he continued, before turning away and picking up his book to recitesomething in a foreign language. A strange tingle came over his body, starting where his brother had drawn the symbols and slowly extending through the rest of his body, adding the burning sensation from the knife wound. The candles flickered in a sudden gust of wind, papers flying dangerously close to the flames as the room grew darker and the smoke grew thicker. He coughed just as Kristoph's chant reached its crescendo, tasting blood on his lips before the room went dark.
One by one the candles came back to life and he realized there was something standing above him, horns sprouting out of its head, smoke curling around its frame and fire burning in its eyes. He blinked. Suddenly the horns looked like hair as the smoke cleared and the man above him crossed his arms.
“What do you want?” the stranger asked and somehow Klavier had expected his voice to sound like fire and brimstone and not… this. He sounded somewhat out of breath. Not that Klavier was complaining, being stuck in the summoning circle with him and all but still.
“Foul demon, I have summoned you here to do my bidding,” Kristoph intoned. “You will-”
“Did you know your circle is incomplete?” the demon interrupted pointing at the spot on the floor. Klavier followed his outstretched finger, eyes coming to rest on the smear of blood he'd left when he tried to get up. “Also,” - the demon continued while stepping out of the circle - “I don't think you're the kind of person I'd want to be bound to so-”
There was a sound like ripping plastic, a gust of wind and then the demon hummed. “Looks like he had an emergency exit ready, huh.”
Klavier very much would've liked one of his own as the creature came back to squat beside him. Although this close he didn't look very demon-ishwith his big brown eyes and the worried crease in his forehead. He tilted his head.
“What now?” he asked and Klavier blinked.
“What do you mean what now ?” Ouch, bad idea speaking. World fading out before jolting back into focus as the demon knelt before him, with his chin resting on his hand. “Well, I was summoned with your blood so either you bind me to your will or you banish me.”
He blew out a breath. “And you're telling me why?”
The demon shrugged. “Courtesy, I guess. You didn't ask to be made a sacrifice so that's the least I can do.”
“What if I want to, ah.” He paused to catch his breath. “To do neither? Not like you asked to be to be summoned.”
“Hmm, then I'd be free I guess?” The demon tilted his head to the other side. “But are you sure? People usually don't go for that option.”
The edges of his vision were dimming again and he struggled to keep his eyes on the person in front of his face. “You plan on hurting people?”
“No.”
“Then go. Be free.” He would've waved his hand at the other but it was feeling somewhat numb. Also he was still handcuffed, he realized belatedly.
The demon rose to his feet, turning to leave but then pausing to look over his shoulder. “Do you want me to call you an ambulance?”
“That would be, ah, would be great. My phone's in the,” - he drew another shuddering breath - “the living room.” He thought he saw the other nod before he left but it wasn't just the edges of his vision that were black now. Something nudged him and he realized his eyes had slipped closed. Which was unfortunate because he couldn't find the strength to open them again.
“So slight problem,” the demon said. “Your phone's dead. Whole block's probably experiencing a power outage as a side effect of the summoning, sooo...” He trailed off and Klavier felt a hand at his neck. “Did you die?”
He tried to say no and it came out as a moan.
“Oh, that's good then. Hold on a second.” The hand left his neck and suddenly the knife in his chest moved and his world disappeared in a sea of anguish.
It was hard to breath. He didn't know what had happened and where he was but it was hard to breath. Why? Forcing his eyes open he found himself face to... face? With teeth? A dog? He blinked and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Still somewhat out of it he slapped himself in the process but it did wake him to some extent. Plus the dog was still there afterwards.Panting at him and wagging its tail with a doggy smile. He didn't even know Kristoph owned a dog. Kristoph!He shot up into a sitting position.
“Oh, you're awake.” A head peeked over the back of the couch he was on, bangs still turned upward as if doing their best to imitate horns. “I, uh, fixed the hole in your chest. And cleaned you up a bit. On account of the blood and the runes and all. Though your shirt is ruined.”
Steadying himself by holding onto the back of the couch – dog sliding off with a whine – he realized a few things in quick succession: a) there was a distinct lack of a gaping wound, b) whatever Kris had drawn on his chest was gone and c) he wasn't wearing a shirt. Right. He poked the flesh between his ribs before looking up at the other.
“Thanks,” he said and probably meant it. He just hoped he hadn't entered a demon deal of sorts.
“You're, uh, welcome.” Brown doe-eyes looked at him, blinking slowly, and for a moment neither said anything. The apartment grewquiet safe for the thumping of a dog tail. He never had liked Kristoph's place, with it's too sharp angles and stifling cleanliness.
“What now?” Klavier asked, tempted to break the sudden awkward silence with some innuendo or flirting but going for something more productive instead. The demon shrugged in response.
“I don't know. Usually I'm either banished or bound at this point. And if I'm bound I don't get a say in what I do so… No idea. What do you usually do?”
“You mean after I get stabbed?” By his brother no less? There was a hysterical laugh bubbling at the back of his throat and he swallowed it. “It might come as a surprise but this is a first for me, too.” The whining dogcrawled back into his lap, like a big, furry teddy bear, and he hugged it.
“Maybe we should get out of here at least?” the other suggested and Klavier had to agree with the sentiment.
Nothing sends a chill down your spine like lying in an apartment where you've almost been murdered. Hah, time to get moving and stop thinking. Scooping up the caninehe set it down on the floor, grabbed his phone off the table and, stuffing it into his pocket, strode toward the coat rack with renewed urgency, dog and demon hot on his heels. And watching him expectantly. Was he supposed to say something? Reason informed him he probably shouldn't leave the pethere when his brother might not be back for a while – was there a protocol for failed demon ritual clean-up and did he want to know? – so he took its leash, the animalalready wagging its tail and giving him a widesmile. Inside his pocket he could feel his car keys and as he took them out he tried not to think how Kris insisted he come with his car and not his hog. Body disposal was a lot easier when you also had a spare vehicle.
Shaking his head he waved them at the demon behind him. “Do you want me to drop you off anywhere?”
The other's face fell and his arms swung loosely at his side. “Ah, no. I suppose I'll just...” He looked around the room. “I'll just find somewhere to go?” he continued and his forlorn voice tore at his heartstrings. Realistically this was a bad idea, of the top of his head he could think of five reasons why he shouldn't be letting a stranger, let alone a demon,come with him but. He didn't want to be alone tonight and somehow the thought of explaining what happened to someone else didn't seem appealing at all.
“Do you want to come to my place?” he offered before he could change his mind and the look the demon gave him made it hard to question his decision.
“Are you- are you sure? I don't want to impose, but, um, I'd love to. But only if you're sure.”
Fastening the leash on the dog's collar – Vongole it read – he bit his lip against a smile. “I'm sure,” he said. At the very least he was glad for the company. And he did kind of owe the guy a debt for the first aid that went beyond common courtesy so he might as well. Plus he could afford getting a new house with a secret address if he deemed it necessary.
So he led their little group – shirtless rockstar, hair-horned demon and a Golden Retriever – out of Kris' building and to his car at ass o'clock at night. Three a.m. his car told him and he might have glared a little at it for its bright digital numbers that completely failed to read the mood. Bright neon purple was not the right color after this. Starting the motor he distracted himself with a list of all the appropriate colors for his so-your-brother-tried-to-sacrifice-you plightand came up with nothing. Leaving the driveway with a little too much speed, a sharp turn with squealing wheels, like a douche he ran a hand through his hair.
“Name's Apollo, by the way” his passenger told him and he put both hands on the steering wheel as he resisted the urge to look at him. Both eyes on the street, even at three a.m. Especially at three a.m.
“Klavier.”
“Like piano?” Apollo asked and he snorted.
“Yeah, like piano.” Figures a demon would know more than one language. “You got something to say about it?”
“Nope. It's a good name, certainly better than a dog named Clams. ”
He was about to agree when his sluggish brain waved something at him and the pieces fell into place. Sparing a quick glance in the rear window found Clams , sitting there with the same doggy smile she'd been sporting for the past twenty minutes or so. Maybe he didn't want to know. Clams . Taking a right at the next intersection he pushed all unnecessary thoughts out of his mind and stared at the dark streets. One thing after another. Get home, sleep for a million years, then figure out everything else.
A nice short list, easy to do and only getting two additions when he got home. One: he put out a bowl of water for the dog and two: he pointed his companion in the direction of the guest room before collapsing into his bed. All according to plan. What he certainly hadn't planned on was tossing and turning as the ever cruel clock moved forward. Sometime around five he managed to fall asleep only to wake up minutes later bathed in cold sweat. Rolling out bed and stumbling into the shower he decided he might as well start the day early. Never mind that they'd just gotten back from a world tour yesterday and were supposed to take some time off to recharge their batteries. Sometimes rest wasn't an option and sleep was overrated anyway.
Freshly showered and with new clothes he almost felt alive again. His phone unfortunately was still dead and unless he felt like going out to have it fixed he'd have to order a new one. Tablet in hand he walked into his living room and froze. The TV was on and on the couch, curled into a tight ball, sat Apollo. Watching some bright kid's show. His head turned when Klavier entered and he seemed to shrink into himself even further.
“Hi,” he said tentatively, glancing between Klavier and the screen. “I hope you don't mind. I, uhm, wasn't all that tired.”
He blinked. “It's fine,” he said, watching the heroine throw fists with a gigantic robot. “Do you want coffee?” and possibly cereal for the Saturday morning cartoons, except it wasn't Saturday, it was too early to be called morning and his fridge was empty because he hadn't gone grocery shopping yet.
“That'd be great. If you don't mind, that is.” The ball on his couch unfurled just the slightest bit. “Do you want help?”
Well, he didn't exactly need help, refilling water in his coffee machine and then putting two mugs under it but…
“Ja, sure,” he said. “You can get mugs for us – I'll show you which cupboard.” And while they shared this truly Herculean effort he took the opportunity to get a closer look at his companion. His bangs were no longer standing upright like horns and in the fluorescent kitchen light he looked as tired as Klavier felt. He was also barefoot and only wearing shorts and a ratty shirt.
“If you're cold you can borrow a sweater.”
Those big brown eyes snapped up to his narrowing, and Apollo went to cross his arms. “I don't get cold,” he snapped and then glared at Klavier as if suggesting otherwise was an insult.
Okay. No sweater, he thought blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. Apollo did the same and grimaced. Huh. On a hunch Klavier reached up into his cupboard and dug out the sugar, leaving it on the counter and receiving another glare. Shrugging he went back to his mug, hiding a smile behind it when Apollo did pour two big spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. Grabbing his tablet again he began filling his shopping cart. He'd need a new phone, so add that, new pants because his current oneshad a nice big blood stain and he'd really liked that pair, dog food, a dog bed, groceries and also clothes for Apollo because his were falling apart and if he had nowhere to go he probably also didn't have a spare set of clothes. Also worrying about Apollo's sweater size was better than worrying about whether or not he should leave his housebecause Kris knew where he lived. (He probably should. He'd text Daryan once his phone got here.)
“Hey, what's your favorite color?” the eyes narrowed again.
“Why?”
“Well, I am maybe doing a bit of online shopping,” - his hand came up to play with his braid - “and while I'm at it, I figured, I might as well, since I'm already doing this-”
“Yes?”
“I'm getting you a new set of clothes because if you go outside like this people will think I kidnapped you.”
“WHAT?”
Maybe he was imagining things but he was pretty sure the room just shook at the sheer volume; his ears certainly were ringing. “Just think of it as a thank you for saving my life,” he cajoled holding out the tablet, a nice selection of hoodies already on screen. The glare was back in full force – he was starting to suspect it was Apollo's default mode of interacting with the world and it kind of made it less effective – but he snatched the tablet out of Klavier's hands and began scrolling. His face was scrunching up with concentration and it was positively adorable. A few minutes later his tablet was being shoved back at him, a few items added to his cart and anotherglare daring him to argue. Cute.
The site was asking for his delivery address now and he frowned. Even if he got express delivery (which he was planning on) he'd still have to wait a good chunk of time here. In his apartment. Which Kristoph knew of and had a key to and suddenly he was wondering what his three a.m. self was thinking coming here instead of going anywhere else. He could go to his band mates for help but Kristoph knew where they lived, too. And if he could summon a (short, grumpy, kind of cute) demon who knew what else he could do? He looked at Apollo, sipping at his coffee, and Vongole at his feet, wagging her tail when his hand brushed through the fur on the top of her head.
“New plan,” he announced and the other two perked up in sync. “We probably shouldn't stay here because-” he stopped. Because Kris might try to kill him again? Who's to say he hadn't planned to have Apollo heal him once he was done with the ritual? He was his brother after all, his only family, maybe he was overreacting, blowing this out of proportion, stealing Kristoph's dog and running off with a stranger but his chest twinged where the knife had been and he rubbed at the spot and–
“Because?” Apollo prompted, his head tilted at him. Right, focus. There was a plan taking shape in his head.
“Because I don't know what's going to happen–“ What his Kris was going to do. “–and we can't exactly go to the police, unless they've become a lot more open-minded since last time I checked. But I have a friend we can contact, so we'll get to safety, I'll get a new phone and then I'll call him.” He went to twist his ring on his index finger but realized he had not yet put his rings back on. They'd need something secludedso he won't be recognized with his picture posted all over social media. Saving the items in his cart for later he pulled up motels in the relative vicinity instead.
Hopefully he wouldn’t drive them straight into a tree before they got there with his minus four hours of sleep.