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“CLAY!”

Apollo burst through the door of his and Clay’s shared dorm room with clenched fists and murderous intent in his eyes. Clay nearly tumbled right off his bed, laptop and headphones and all, at the sheer volume of Apollo’s voice. “Wh-whoa! What the - ”

“Did you use my fabric scissors?!”

Clay blinked. “I...your...what?” He glanced around, confused. “Oh, the ones with your - ”

“ - with my name on it, yeah,” Apollo interrupted, scowling. “Please tell me you didn’t use them to cut paper.”

“Well...sure I did. They’re scissors, dude,” Clay shrugged. He recoiled when the withering look on Apollo’s face clearly told him that wasn’t the right answer. “...and by ‘they’re scissors, dude’, I mean ‘I’m sorry, please don’t kill me with them’.”

“Great,” Apollo groaned, collapsing onto his bed face-first. “I’m gonna have to get them sharpened now. It costs twenty-plus bucks to get the program assistant to do it, and she’s not even here today!”

“Shit...I’m sorry, Apollo,” Clay repeated, sincerer this time. He reached across the gap between their beds to squeeze Apollo’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ll pay for it, okay? And I swear, I’ll never use them again.”

“Thanks,” Apollo mumbled into his pillow. He then lifted his head to peek at Clay, smirking slightly. “You get paid more than I do, anyway. Not that anyone can tell, since you spend all your paychecks on shoes.”

“Lies and slander! I’m also saving up for our future apartment, asshole,” Clay retorted, laughing. “I don’t have a shoe problem.”

“No one said you did, sneakerhead,” Apollo teased. “How many variants of Superstars do you have again?”

“Damn, Apollo, that hurts.” Clay let out a fake sniffle. “You know I’m a Stan Smiths guy.”

“Aren’t we all,” Apollo sighed, sitting up so he could take off his own pair of all-white Stan Smiths and tossing them aside. The sound of his shoes bouncing off the wall instantly grabbed the attention of another student passing by their still-open door. Apollo groaned when he saw a familiar head of blond hair pop into view. 

“Ah, don’t tell me you two are fighting. Do you need a mediator?”

“No, Gavin. Sorry to disappoint you,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes once more. “And what are you doing here? You don’t live on campus.”

Klavier seemed to take the question as an invitation, stepping inside so he could lean against the doorframe with his arms and ankles crossed, an amused smile playing on his lips. Just looking at him made it easy to assume he was in Apollo’s fashion design cohort - and yes, Apollo was very aware that it was an unconventional choice of minor for getting into law school - when he was actually in all of Apollo’s criminology classes. He was tall and lean like a model, with clear skin and shiny hair, dressed in an oversized Raf Simons hoodie, leather pants, and a covetable pair of Rick Owens boots. Klavier was the kind of person who could make a potato sack look good, and Apollo hated that about him.

“Came by to see a friend, natürlich,” Klavier said breezily, his German accent light and lilting and likely fake. “Not you, I’m afraid.”

“Small victories,” Apollo drawled. “Well, don’t let us keep you.”

“Ah, before I go - ” Klavier rummaged through his leather tote bag, then procured a familiar-looking accordion folder “ - you left this in the lecture hall this morning. I suppose you’re not usually in the habit of leaving your notes lying around?”

“Oh. Um, thanks.” Apollo shot him an awkward smile as he took his folder back. “No, I - my mind’s been all over the place. Model casting is this week and it’s a pretty big deal, so…”

“For your grad show, ja?” Klavier asked. “Ach, poor you. Spending hours and hours looking at beautiful people and deciding whether they’re beautiful enough for you when you’d rather be in our philosophy of law lecture, I’m sure.”

“You joke, but that’s legitimately what Apollo’s thinking,” Clay piped up. “He, quote-unquote, ‘gets nervous around uncomfortably good-looking guys’. This could kill him!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Apollo protested, his cheeks burning. “Th-that’s not true at all!” Klavier’s eyes merely twinkled with mirth as he tried his best not to laugh.

“Anyway, I should get going now,” Klavier said, turning and waving a perfectly manicured hand over his shoulder. “Auf Wiedersehen, you two. Don’t shout up another storm while I’m gone, ja?”

After a beat, Apollo collapsed back onto his bed, limbs sprawled out wide, glaring holes into their water-stained ceiling. “What a jerk.”

“Jerk? He brought you your notes, man,” Clay pointed out. “Hey, for all we know, you’re the friend he came to see!”

“Me? Please,” Apollo snorted, reluctantly peeling himself off the mattress so he could finally close their front door. “Gavin’s not my friend; I would never hang out with someone who’s that into himself. All he ever talks about is his looks, his grades - hell, his music - ”

“Don’t you think that’s kinda harsh?” Clay asked dubiously. “I mean, I get it, but people are interested in him ‘cos he’s, y’know, interesting. Not his fault they wanna talk to him about him.”

Apollo continued to scowl. “And I’m sure he loves it. But seriously, if Gavin’s my friend, then so’s the guy who stole my pattern weights last week.”

“Uh, didn’t you almost deck him after you found them?” Clay said slowly.

Apollo turned and shot him yet another withering look. “...I rest my case,” he said darkly.

Much to Apollo’s dismay, his stress-filled week somehow went by too quickly and not quickly enough. He’d barely found enough time to study for his criminal justice midterm, broke three sewing machine needles in the span of thirty minutes before realizing he’d forgotten to swap out his universal needle for a denim one, and to top it all off, received an unfortunate email from his program coordinator, right as he somehow burned his cup noodles in the communal microwave.

“I picked this guy to wear my closing outfit just two days ago and now he’s dropping out of the show ‘cos he got tapped for fashion week. I’m telling you, I hate living in Los Angeles sometimes,” Apollo grouched, viciously stabbing his burnt noodles with his chopsticks. At this point, he didn’t care that he was spilling soup all over his history of costume notes. “So now I gotta find a replacement on my own.”

“They’re not gonna call the modeling agency for you? That sucks,” Clay said, wincing in sympathy.

“If other people had cancellations, they’d consider it, but there’s no room in the show budget to set up another casting call for just me,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Can’t argue there.”

“Well…” Clay cast a cursory glance around the common area where they were currently studying. “I’m sure there’s guys who’d be flattered if you went up to ‘em and told ‘em they look like literal model material.”

“I can’t just ask the first decent-looking guy I see,” Apollo countered. “They have to be at least five-foot-ten, with a lean build. Someone confident, someone who can wear clothes - and I mean really wear clothes - and work long shifts. We have to be at the venue from five in the morning to ten at night, three days in a row.”

“Tall, lean, confident, fashionable, professional?” Clay hummed. “I think I know a guy.”

Apollo straightened up. More soup splashed onto his notes. “Huh? Really?”

“In fact, he’s coming right this way.” Clay waved at someone approaching from the other side of the room. Apollo nearly gave himself whiplash trying to turn around in his chair, craning his neck to look. His eyes widened when he saw Klavier and the girl he was always with walking towards them.

“Gavin?!” Apollo whisper-shouted. “You can’t be serious, Clay, he’s - he’s - he’s Gavin!”

“And? He fits your criteria,” Clay pointed out. He then whistled. “Damn, are those vintage New Balance 555’s?”

“Sneakerhead,” Apollo muttered petulantly under his breath.

“Guten tag!” Klavier said cheerily, grinning as he and his friend sat on the couch opposite them. “Apollo, why are your notes covered in soup?”

“Never mind that,” Apollo snapped, finally reaching for a napkin.

The girl’s bright green eyes lit up in curiosity. “Oh! So you’re Apollo, huh?” she said, leaning forward to get a better look; her long, dark ponytail nearly smacked Klavier in the face as she moved. “Klavier talks about you all the time, you know!”

“I - what? Why?” Apollo asked, half-distracted by his soup-soaked notes. His quick sketch of the Gibson Girl was starting to look like a melted cinnamon roll.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Klavier lightly nudged the girl’s shoulder, while she playfully stuck her tongue out in response. Apollo had seen them together around campus a handful of times over the years. He often found himself wondering if she was his girlfriend, which led to him wondering why he cared. “So, is something wrong? I thought I heard shouting, not that that’s unusual for you.”

“Funny,” Apollo said dryly. “Yeah, I was telling Clay that one of my models dropped out of the show. Have to find a replacement before we start our first round of fittings next week or I’m screwed.”

“That’s terrible,” the girl said, frowning. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone. This is California, after all!”

“I think Klavier would be the perfect fit for Apollo’s stuff,” Clay said, gesturing in his general direction. “And Apollo thinks so, too!”

“You really need to stop putting words in my mouth,” Apollo grouched.

“I did a little modeling while I was studying in Germany,” Klavier offered with a lazy smile.

“Of course you did,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes.

Klavier merely laughed, not at all offended. “And I’d be happy to help if you’re in a tight spot. Not to speak poorly of our classmates, but I doubt you’ll be able to find anyone else willing to spend precious hours doing fittings and whatnot, ja?”

“Well, I…” Apollo trailed off when he noticed both Clay and Klavier’s friend were staring at him expectantly, their expressions eerily similar. His heart sank when he realized Klavier was, unfortunately, correct. People’s generosity only went so far, especially when it came to helping strangers. At least he and Klavier knew each other well enough to trust that everything would go to plan. “...fine. I’d really appreciate your help, so, uh. Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I could text you the schedule now if you want?”

“For that, you would need my number,” Klavier replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and passing it to him. “Here.”

Apollo could feel Clay staring at him curiously as he and Klavier exchanged numbers. The girl was grinning in Apollo’s direction so widely he was afraid her face was going to split open, and he had no clue why. Then again, “cheerful” seemed to be her default state. Once they were done, he cleared his throat yet again. “Right, so...see you around?”

Klavier looked slightly surprised by the blunt dismissal but nodded regardless, getting to his feet. “Ja, ja. I’ll let you know if there’s any scheduling conflicts. Auf Wiedersehen, you two!” He and his friend left, though she seemed to be pouting at Klavier as they did.

“There! Problem solved, crisis averted,” Clay declared, elbowing Apollo in the side. “Oh, come on. Why are you making that face?”

“I-I’m not making a face!” Apollo continued to busy himself with his history of costume notes, hoping to at least salvage the section on the women’s liberation movement, which was sure to be on the upcoming test. “I just wish you hadn’t volunteered Gavin for me. Now I actually have to talk to him!”

“And what’s wrong with that? He’s a cool guy.” Clay then scoffed. “I love you, dude, but you have some weird hang-ups sometimes.”

Apollo shot him a self-deprecating smile. “You don’t say.”

After a few awkward text exchanges, Apollo found himself pacing the sewing lab a few days later, nervously anticipating Klavier’s arrival. His prototypes were pressed and laying flat across one of the drafting tables, he had his specifications spreadsheet open on his laptop, and his kit was sitting in the other room. He was still silently mulling over all the little details he might’ve missed - not to mention whether he’d remembered to rename his tort law paper from its original keysmash nonsense before submitting it online this morning - when he heard a commotion by the door.

Apollo turned to see Klavier standing there, bag slung over his shoulder. He looked as annoyingly good as always in his Teddy Fresh hoodie and denim cutoffs; Apollo’s classmates were openly gawking at him like he was some sort of celebrity. Then again, Apollo supposed to some people, he actually was.

“Hey,” Apollo said, approaching him before anyone else could. “You’re, uh, early.”

“Didn’t want to keep you waiting,” Klavier said, running his fingers through his hair. Even under the awful fluorescent lights of the sewing lab that gave Apollo headaches more often than not, it still looked as shiny as ever. “Where do you want me?”

“Follow me.” Apollo grabbed his prototypes, then led Klavier to the back of the room, where a few temporary changing booths had been set up, though the professional models who’d dropped by for fittings had no qualms about getting undressed in front of everyone. “Guess I forgot to mention some of my cohort are Gavinners’ fans, huh?”

“Are they?” Klavier looked pleased. “Do you think they might want my autograph?”

“Focus up, Gavin, you’re on the clock for me,” Apollo reminded him. “Here, put ‘em on and we’ll head into the other room to do the actual fitting. There’s too many people in here for me to concentrate.”

Once Klavier was dressed, he went with Apollo into the adjacent room. Unlike the sewing lab, which was packed with sewing machines, cutting tables, and ironing boards, the drafting room was mostly filled with tables and chairs. There were only a few students hanging around compared to the dozens that were sweating bullets over the sergers.

“Before we start, can I just say - I love this,” Klavier enthused, carefully smoothing out the front of his shirt. “The fit, the cut - achtung, I’m obsessed. Do I get to keep it after the show?”

“No. And stop touching it,” Apollo scolded, lightly slapping Klavier’s hand away. “But, er, thank you. I know what I’m doing.”

“Clearly,” Klavier said, slipping away so he could admire himself in the full-length mirror by the door. Apollo winced when he heard one of the pant seams pop. “Can I take a picture?”

“No,” Apollo repeated, firmer this time. The last thing he needed was for Klavier’s Instagram followers to see his designs before he’d even sent out his media kit. “And can you come back here so I can actually do what you’re here for?”

“Ja, ja.” Klavier took one quick spin, the hem of the coat swirling about at his knees, before returning to Apollo’s side, his eyes sparkling like a kid’s in a candy store. Huffing, Apollo grabbed his wrists so he could lift Klavier’s arms up to shoulder height. He then began assessing Klavier’s range of motion, if the underarm seams were too tight or if the fabric bunched up too much. Only then did Klavier wait patiently, holding as still as he could, though his eyes followed Apollo the whole time, curious about what he was doing.

“Can you hold your arms out in front of you and bend at the waist?” Apollo asked. “And tell me if it feels tight across the back.”

Klavier obeyed. “If anything, I’d say it’s a bit roomy,” he suggested after a moment’s consideration. “The sleeves are sliding past my wrists now, see?”

“Right, right,” Apollo hummed, turning to his laptop so he could make some notes. He then grabbed his pincushion and tailor’s chalk from his kit. “Hold still, I’m gonna make some marks.”

He worked in silence for the next few minutes, occasionally asking Klavier to change positions and comment on how the clothes were fitting. Even though Apollo had made a half-hearted attempt at sewing his prototypes properly - honestly, who bothered with doing a full set of buttonholes on a shirt prototype when the machine gave them heart palpitations every time it started up - he needed to make sure the final garments fit exactly how they were supposed to. He had no interest in sewing another set that wasn’t going out on the runway.

“So...why fashion?” Klavier asked right as Apollo was marking out the new pant hem. “You’re studying to be a defense attorney, nein?”

“Small talk isn’t holding still, Gavin,” Apollo reminded him, sliding the last pin into place. He straightened up, dusting the chalk powder off his hands. “Okay, we’re done, but now you have to take everything off. Carefully. I mean, unless you wanna look like you’ve been attacked by wildcats, you do you.”

Klavier chuckled. “You didn’t answer my question.” Still, he shrugged the coat off all the same, minding the pins in the shoulders, sleeves, and hem. Once he’d set it down on the table, he started unbuttoning his shirt. Apollo made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “What?”

“Wh-why aren’t you changing in the other room?!” Apollo spluttered.

“Why would I? All my things are in here, and I don’t mind getting changed in front of other people.” Klavier continued on, slipping the dress shirt off with ease. Apollo found himself overly-fixated on his spreadsheet by the time Klavier was working on the fly of his pants. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Tell - huh?” Apollo blinked, slightly dazed.

“Why you’re studying fashion,” Klavier repeated. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal, I just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh.” Apollo cleared his throat; Klavier was pulling his denim cutoffs back on now. “Oh, it’s not - it’s not personal. Hell, it wasn’t even my decision. I mean, minoring in it was definitely my choice, it’s just - I wasn’t s’posed to take design classes in the first place.”

“Really?” Klavier sat in the chair opposite Apollo’s. Apparently, he was too interested in Apollo’s story to put his shirt back on. “So, what, you accidentally ended up in fashion? How did that happen?”

Apollo leaned across the table. “Administrative error,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Achtung, you’re joking!” Klavier exclaimed, astonished. “And they didn’t fix it?”

“Trust me, it’s not like I didn’t ask,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes. “But apparently, there were so many poli-sci undergrads coming in that year that there was a waitlist for the waitlist. Didn’t help that some professor retired earlier than they expected so they couldn’t open more sections to accommodate. So, they shoved me in here, I stuck it out for a semester, and...I dunno. It grew on me. So I decided to keep going.”

Klavier smiled, reaching over to gently brush his fingers against the coat sleeve, careful not to smudge Apollo’s chalk marks. “I went to your designer showcase last semester, by the way. Your portfolio was impressive, especially now that I know you weren’t originally planning on being here. But I suspect you aren’t planning on switching careers.”

“Definitely not,” Apollo replied, shutting his laptop. “I like design, but I don’t love it. Not the way that I love law.” His face suddenly grew warm. “Uh - I mean - I know that’s, like, the nerdiest shit you’ve ever heard - ”

“I think it’s cute,” Klavier said, his smile softening. Apollo stared at him blankly, at a complete loss on how to respond. He cleared his throat again, then turned to grab his prototypes and slip them back onto their respective hangers.

“Anyway, we’re done for today, so you can put your damn shirt back on, Gavin.” Apollo hefted his things into his arms; for a moment, Klavier seemed to be considering whether to ask if he needed help or not, then thought better of it, pulling his T-shirt over his head instead. “I should have the final garments done in a week or so, we’ll plan for another fitting around then.”

“You let me know,” Klavier said, mouth twisting. Once again, he seemed taken aback by Apollo’s dismissiveness. “See you in tomorrow’s lab, ja?”

“Yeah, see you.” Apollo was already heading back into the sewing lab. “Don’t forget to sign some autographs on your way out.”

Klavier stared after him, perplexed. “...right. I won’t.”

“Apollo?”

He very nearly tumbled out of his chair at the sound of his name, having been startled awake. “Wh - ”

“Midterms must be hitting you harder than I thought.” Ema neatly slid into the seat across from him, setting her bag down on the table. She began pulling out her things, positioning her tablet, textbooks, and notes in front of her, unbothered by the fact she’d obviously woken him up. Then again, it was probably for the best that he was no longer snoring in the middle of the school library. He’d probably been seconds away from getting kicked out if not for her arrival. “Law or fashion?”

“Both, always both.” Apollo lifted a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned, only to realize he had a few sticky notes plastered to his cheek. He winced as he peeled them off. “Exhibit A - an endless pile of depositions to analyze by Saturday. Exhibit B - a hundred-page QLR due on Friday.”

“Q-L-what now?” Ema said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, er - quality and logistics report. It’s a huge technical document that we have to submit with our final collections,” Apollo explained. “Where to source materials, what labeling standards and shipping logistics we gotta deal with, which quality and performance tests to use…”

“We are talking about clothes and not, like, a car, right?” Ema asked.

“You’d be surprised how detailed this stuff gets,” Apollo remarked. “We did burn tests the other day, learning the difference between how natural fibers burn and how manmade fibers burn, that kind of stuff. Your kind of stuff.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Ema said, her eyes lighting up. Her expression didn’t last long, however, her gaze drifting over to something behind Apollo’s back. She shrunk down into her seat, her cheeks becoming unusually pink.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Ema? You...okay?” When she didn’t respond, he turned to look, then nearly ducked down himself. Standing in the book returns area, chatting quietly, were Klavier and the girl with the long ponytail. Though their voices were low, their smiles were as bright as ever, the toes of their shoes brushing from how closely they were standing together. Apollo felt his stomach churn. He turned back to Ema. “You know her?”

“No,” Ema said far too quickly. Apollo shot her an unimpressed look. “...okay, yes, but you can’t tell anyone.”

Apollo snorted. “Right. I will go to my grave with your deepest, darkest secret: the fact that you know that girl.”

“Shut up.” Ema pelted her eraser at Apollo’s forehead. “No, I just mean - I had, like. The dumbest meet-cute with her at the Muji across the street last Saturday. We reached for the same pens and our fingers brushed. It was ridiculous and I’m embarrassed.”

“I’m embarrassed and I wasn’t even there,” Apollo said dryly. “Did you talk?”

“I wanted to, but I was there with your sister and you know how she gets,” Ema said, reluctantly sitting back up. “She yanked me away so she could beg me to buy her strawberry marshmallows. Didn’t have to ask me twice, though I could’ve done without the interruption.”

“You could go talk to her now, only…” Apollo hesitated. “I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure her and Gavin are a thing? I see them together all the time, so, er...sorry, not to burst your bubble or anything.”

“No, please, burst all the bubbles if it stops me from embarrassing myself further,” Ema drawled, folding her arms defensively across her chest. She looked disappointed; Apollo couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Gavin keeps looking over here, by the way. He looks...nervous? Sheesh, Apollo, did you impale him with your fabric scissors or something?”

“What? No,” Apollo protested. “I don’t know what Gavin’s deal is. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that he’s helping me out, but he tried to make small talk during our fitting and it was...weird. Like, he asked why I was minoring in fashion.”

“The horror, he asked you a question that literally everyone asks when you tell them what you’re studying,” Ema deadpanned. Apollo threw her eraser back at her, biting back a satisfactory smirk when it bounced off her nose. “Ow - you asshole - ”

“I wouldn’t start any stationery fights if I were you!” They both looked up, startled by the sound of a new, distinctively perky voice. The girl had slipped into the chair beside Apollo’s beneath their notice, grinning at them cheekily. “The librarian’s super mad today ‘cos someone accidentally ran a test print on all the printers and wasted, like, three cartridges of black ink.”

Apollo and Ema exchanged slightly confused looks. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Ema said, rubbing her nose. “It wasn’t you, was it?”

“Would you believe her if she said it wasn’t?” Klavier said dryly, settling into the chair beside her.

Ema’s eyes remained on the girl’s face, curious. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I don’t have evidence to prove otherwise.”

“Evidence like what?” the girl asked, resting her chin in her hands.

“Basic facts about you. Y’know, like your name,” Ema hedged, mirroring her posture.

“Oh, I’m Kay Faraday. Call me Kay, ‘kay?” she said, giggling when Ema groaned. “You don’t like that one, huh?”

“If I had a dollar for every time someone made a ‘gloomy skies’ joke about my last name, I’d have enough money to change it,” Ema grumbled. “The fact that you’re doing it to yourself seems like a scientific anomaly.”

“Speaking of science…” Kay’s expression grew coy. “There’s a new crime scene-themed escape room that just opened up downtown, and Klavier says you’re studying to become a forensic investigator. Wanna get some practice for the real thing?” Klavier only just managed to stop himself from laughing. Kay pouted at him. “What?”

“Mein Gott and I thought I was unsubtle,” Klavier commented, leaning back in his seat, relaxed.

“Uh...unsubtle about what?” Apollo asked. Klavier looked at him, but said nothing.

Ema’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re not - are you - ”

“Asking you on a date? Of course I am!” Kay chirped, unfazed. “So, what do you say?”

“I - ” Ema’s cheeks reddened again. “Yeah, I - yeah, definitely.” Apollo could only stare in shock as the two girls swapped phones so they could exchange numbers. Klavier, on the other hand, was smiling like a proud older brother, an expression Apollo was familiar with on himself.

Kay then turned to Klavier with a sly, taunting grin. “...your turn.” The smile slid right off his face.

Apollo looked at her, still confused. “What?”

“Never mind,” Klavier said with a weary exhale, getting to his feet. “Anyway, we should get going. Take care, ja?”

“I’ll text you later, Ema!” Kay’s voice carried across the library as she and Klavier headed for the doors. The librarian leaned over her desk to glare at their retreating backs.

Apollo looked at Ema, then let out a laugh of disbelief. “Well, this is your worst nightmare.”

Ema frowned. “What, having a date with a cute girl?”

“Try ‘owing Gavin a favor’,” Apollo corrected. “He obviously told her about you.”

Ema’s eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. “...ugh. Why did you have to point that out?”

“Hey, at least now we know I was wrong,” Apollo said, ducking before she could throw another eraser at him. He wouldn’t put it past her to move onto pencils next, and he had no interest in losing an eye. “They’re just friends, which is...it’s good. For you.”

“...right,” Ema said, eyeing him suspiciously before turning to her tablet. “Okay, can we actually start studying now?”

“Definitely,” Apollo agreed, clearing his throat.

Apollo was certain he’d told Clay, time and time again, that he had no interest in the “full college experience”, whatever that was supposed to mean. And yet, Clay somehow managed to convince him to go to a party every now and then, promising him it would be fun. Every time, Clay was proven wrong, but Apollo still indulged him anyway. At least it gave him a desperately-needed break from his studies.

“Haven’t seen you around before.” Apollo looked up from his tepid cup of something-or-other to see what looked like one of Clay’s rugby teammates approaching him, his grin a little too cheesy for Apollo’s taste.

“I’d like it to stay that way, thanks,” Apollo said sharply, frowning. The boy blinked, confused, then walked away, visibly embarrassed. Apollo took another sip of his drink.

Someone else sidled up to join him moments later. “Aren’t you popular?” Apollo looked up to see Klavier standing there, nursing his own cup of definitely-not-punch. “I have to say, I feel a little bad for the guy.”

Apollo groaned. “Okay, so I probably could’ve been, like. Twenty-percent nicer. My bad.” He took another drink. “So, where’s Kay?” Klavier wordlessly lifted a hand to point; in a distant corner of the cramped room, Apollo could see Kay and Ema curled up on a beanbag chair together, enthusiastically making out. “...oh. I guess yesterday’s date went even better than Ema said.”

“Kay is absolutely verliebt,” Klavier said with a wry chuckle. “But it sounds like Ema wasn’t as...enthusiastic?”

“I think that’s Ema in a nutshell,” Apollo commented. “Oh - n-not that’s she’s not into Kay or anything! She’s just not as...talkative, I guess. Not unless you get her going on blood typing or fingerprints or whatever. Then it’s, y’know, off to the races.”

“Fair enough,” Klavier replied. “Anyway, I’m surprised to see you here. You usually have your nose buried in a book...or a sewing machine.”

“That last one sounds dangerous,” Apollo snorted. “Listen, when in doubt - it’s Clay’s fault. I promised him one stupid party before I lock myself in the sewing lab for the next...ugh. Ten days?”

“You can sew five full outfits in ten days?” Klavier said dubiously. “Achtung, I’m impressed. From what I remember, all your runway looks have at least three pieces each, ja?”

“I’m still one of the slowest sewers in my cohort, but yeah, it’s doable,” Apollo shrugged. “By the way, I’m doing your outfit last since I can fit you anytime I want, but I gotta be ready for all my other models to come in at the same time as everyone else’s.”

“Anytime you want? I didn’t know I made myself that available to you,” Klavier teased, nudging him. The familiarity of the gesture made Apollo shiver. “But ja, makes sense. Just text me when you’re ready and I’ll be there.”

“Well, you seem pretty available for a guy who’s s’posed to be busy,” Apollo pointed out. “Majoring in criminology, minoring in music, lead singer of a rock band with semi-regular gigs...did I miss anything?”

“I work part-time at a record store,” Klavier offered.

Apollo rolled his eyes so hard he felt like he’d strained something. “Of course you do. Beanies and band t-shirts and All Stars, right?”

“Ah, so you know the uniform,” Klavier said, grinning. “Go on, then. Since you seem to have an opinion about everything, what do you think of my outfit?” He shuffled around so he was standing in front of Apollo, arms spread wide, turning in a slow, measured circle. Apollo wasn’t sure whether to comment on the too-tight black skinnies, the holographic glitter Doc Martens, or the button-up shirt with most of its buttons undone, exposing more of Klavier’s torso than he was comfortable making eye contact with.

“You look like a member of an early-2010s boy band who recently realized that jeans are supposed to fit,” Apollo said derisively. Klavier laughed, causing other partygoers to glance their way. “I dunno, Gavin, I’m not - I’m not here to offer snarky fashion commentary.”

“Nein, apparently you’re here to sass unsuspecting boys,” Klavier hummed, returning to his spot by Apollo’s side, their backs against the wall. “Really, though, was he bothering you? Because if he was, I shouldn’t have assumed - ”

“What? No, i-it’s okay,” Apollo said, surprised by the slight hint of regret in Klavier’s voice. “Honestly, he wasn’t. Sure, there’s guys who get overly aggressive, but I think he just wanted to say hi and see if I was interested in talking to him, and...I dunno. It’s not like I have a lot of experience with getting flirted with.”

“Really?” Klavier cocked his head, looking at him inquisitively. “Why not?”

“...because I’m not you?” Apollo said with a nervous laugh. “I’m not you or Clay or...I don’t have ‘it’. Whatever the hell ‘it’ is.”

“Whether you mean looks or personality, I think you're mistaken.” Klavier’s entire body was now turned towards Apollo, his eyes shining with earnestness. “Do you really not see your own appeal?”

“Appeal?” Apollo repeated, his brow furrowing. He wasn’t sure he followed; if he didn’t know any better, he would've thought Klavier was paying him a compliment. “I don’t - I’m not...a-all I’m trying to say is, I’m sure I’m someone’s type, I just...I’m not everyone’s type. Not like you.”

Klavier then laughed. “What an interesting way of telling me I’m your type.”

“You are the worst,” Apollo informed him, though he couldn’t help but chuckle, too.

“Besides, who cares about being anyone’s type?” Klavier continued. “All you can hope for, I think, is that if you have someone you have feelings for, they feel the same way. Simple as that, ja?”

“Yeah, real poetic,” Apollo drawled, taking another gulp of his drink. “Don’t even try to figure out if I’ve got someone I’m into, Gavin. I can see it written all over your face.”

“See what?” Klavier’s eyelashes fluttered innocently, coquettishly. Apollo tried not to choke with laughter at his exaggeratedly coy expression. “Besides, everyone knows you have a secret liebe for Sebastian.”

Apollo promptly spit out his drink. Thankfully, he barely had any left in his mouth to begin with, though a few nearby partygoers shot him dirty looks. “That’s not funny, Gavin - ”

“Then why are you laughing?” Klavier looked incredibly pleased with himself. “You don’t think you’d make a good couple? I can picture it now, the two of you side-by-side in front of a mirror, sharing a tub of hair gel - ”

“I hope you know I’m two seconds away from dumping this on your head,” Apollo threatened, leveling his cup with Klavier’s eyes. Klavier merely smirked. “Ugh, stop trying to make me have a good time. I-I’m not even s’posed to be here! I should be studying!”

“Then why aren’t you?” Klavier asked. “I’m sure Clay wouldn’t mind if you left without him.”

“I know, it’s just - he’s got a point,” Apollo admitted. “I can step away from my stuff for an hour without my academic standing falling apart. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling…” He then paused, surprised by how he’d nearly finished his sentence without thinking.

“Feeling…?” Klavier echoed, curious.

Apollo averted his eyes; Klavier’s gaze was a little too intense for him sometimes. “Anxious,” he said quietly, hoping Klavier couldn’t hear him above the heart-poundingly loud music.

“Ah.” Klavier’s expression softened. “Then maybe you really should head back to your room, ja? If nothing else, you could sleep early and get a fresh start tomorrow.”

“I think I’m too awake to sleep at this point, I can hang around for a little longer,” Apollo said, clearing his throat. “You know you don’t have to wallflower it with me, right? I’m sure you’ve got friends here who would make way better company.”

“Coming up with more subtle ways of getting rid of me, I see,” Klavier said lightly, though he didn’t seem too offended.

“No, th-that’s not what I meant!” Apollo protested, straightening up. “I’m just surprised you’ve been hanging around with me for this long. Look - Daryan’s over there, you don’t wanna join him?”

Klavier glanced over to where Apollo was pointing to see his bandmate hopping up and down on one foot on top of a table, building a solo cup tower on the tip of his questionably shaped bouffant while others cheered him on. “...nein, I’m good,” he said, taking another sip. “Daryan can be the Gavinners’ party animal; I’m content with being the mysterious lead singer.”

Apollo snorted. “Please. The only mystery about you is whether you bleach your hair or not. You’re an open book, Gavin. Even during debate, you’re putting on a show instead of putting in any actual work. And yet, you’re top of the class, anyways.”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Apollo turned to look at him, stunned by the bitterness evident in Klavier’s voice. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tensed. “I’m just...a performer, nothing more?”

“Gavin - ” But Klavier didn’t seem interested in sticking around for whatever Apollo had to say, pushing himself off the wall and heading over to where Daryan and his onlookers were gathered. He managed a tight smile when Daryan waved in his direction; almost immediately, others began gravitating towards Klavier in the hopes that he’d talk to them. Apollo let out a defeated exhale. “...shit.” He tossed his empty cup into a nearby recycling bin, his stomach turning unpleasantly. Maybe it was time to go, after all.

A few days went by before Apollo saw Klavier outside of class again, a moment he’d been dreading. It had started out like any other Wednesday afternoon, where he, Clay, and Ema were at the campus diner, dipping fries into their milkshakes and talking about how their week was going so far.

“Why did I decide I wanted to be an astronaut? Who told me that was a good idea?” Clay moaned, half-slumped over an incomprehensible collection of engineering notes.

“Chill, dude, it’s not like it’s rocket science. Oh, wait,” Ema snickered. Clay pelted a fry at her; Apollo’s hand shot out to catch Ema’s wrist before she could retaliate. She stuck her tongue out at him, yanking her arm back when her text tone went off. “Hey, that might be Kay.”

“I can’t believe you let her make your relationship Instagram bio official,” Apollo said, watching her pull out her phone. “I never would’ve guessed you’d be cool with it.”

“So I have a crush on my girlfriend and I want people to know,” Ema deadpanned, the blush spreading across her cheeks contradicting her tone. “Speaking of, is it okay if she joins us? Her afternoon class got canceled.”

“Sure,” Clay shrugged, sitting up. “The more, the merrier.”

“You say that, but she’s bringing Gavin, too,” Ema said, rolling her eyes. Apollo’s hand stilled just as he was reaching for another fry.

“Gavin?” he repeated dubiously. “What, are they glued at the hip or something?”

“I sure hope not,” Ema shuddered. Moments later, the bell hanging over the diner’s front entrance rang out. The three of them turned to see Kay and Klavier heading towards their booth. Kay was waving enthusiastically; Klavier, not so much. If anything, he seemed to look as apprehensive as Apollo felt.

“Hey, hey!” Kay sing-songed, sliding neatly into the spot beside Ema and pecking her on the cheek in greeting. She glanced across the table, where Apollo and Clay were sitting, then shuffled over further so Klavier could sit beside her. He shot her a grateful smile as he sat down. “Ugh, I’m so hungry. I’m getting a milkshake and fries and a burger! How about you, Klavier?”

“Just coffee for me. I have a gig tonight and I don’t want to do it on a full stomach,” Klavier said, relaxing somewhat.

“Where’re you playing?” Clay asked.

“You know that bar downtown, the Fender Bender?” Klavier replied. “They have live music on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“Cool,” Clay said, grinning easily. He then elbowed Apollo. “Hey - we should go sometime, show our support!” Apollo said nothing, busying himself with his milkshake instead.

After Kay and Klavier ordered their food, the conversation quickly turned to just about any topic that came to mind. Kay and Clay carried most of the conversation while Ema threw in the occasional snarky quip. Apollo and Klavier, however, kept quiet, occasionally eyeing each other uneasily before looking away.

“So how’s your collection going?” Kay asked through a mouthful of burger. There was a generous glop of ketchup smeared across her cheek. “Klavier told me your stuff was ah-mazing, said he’d buy all of it in a heartbeat!”

“Oh. Uh…” Apollo pulled his phone out. “Here, I can show you pictures from some of my final fittings. I only have two outfits left to finish before I submit everything for marking.” Ema stopped Kay from grabbing Apollo’s phone, pointedly shoving a napkin into her hands and giving her a look. Kay giggled sheepishly in return.

Once her hands were clean, she began swiping through Apollo’s photo album, her eyes growing wider and wider with every picture. “Oh, wow! Apollo, these are so cool! Now I’m extra glad me and Klavier got show tickets before they sold out, I gotta see this on the runway.”

“Huh? You did?” Apollo looked at her, confused. From what he remembered, show tickets had sold out over a month ago, long before Klavier and Kay had become semi-regulars in his life. “When did you buy tickets?”

“Klavier got ‘em for us the day they went on sale,” Kay said, passing Apollo’s phone back. “He said - ”

“I think that’s enough of what I said, ja?” Klavier interrupted swiftly, nudging her. It was the first thing he’d said since answering Clay’s question. After a moment of awkward silence, he got to his feet, tossing a couple of dollar bills onto the table. “Anyway, I should get going. Auf Wiedersehen.” He didn’t wait for anyone else’s goodbyes before sweeping out of the diner.

Everyone exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Is he okay?” Clay asked, frowning.

“He’s been better,” Kay said with the nervous smile of someone who clearly knew more than she was letting on. With a reluctant sigh, Apollo stood as well. “Apollo?”

“I-I’ll be right back. I think.” The others watched, bewildered, as Apollo practically sprinted out of the diner. Thankfully, Klavier was still in the parking lot, moments away from putting his motorcycle helmet on. “Gavin! Hey, Gavin, wait a sec!”

Klavier turned, his eyes widening when he saw who was calling after him. “Apollo? What...what is it?”

Apollo jogged up to him, his breath coming in short by the time he was at Klavier’s side. “Listen, I - I’m sorry for being a dick to you the other night, I’m...it was rude, and uncalled for, and - and I’m sorry.”

Klavier’s mouth twisted; he stared down at his helmet, unable to look Apollo in the eye. “I must say, I’m surprised you’re apologizing, because I was about to apologize for overreacting.”

“I don’t think being pissed at me for insulting your intelligence is overreacting,” Apollo pointed out. “And just ‘cos I have an opinion about you doesn’t mean you wanna hear it. Besides, it’s not like...it’s not what I really think.”

“What do you think, then?” Klavier exhaled noisily, irritated. The tension in his jaw had returned. “Because I’ve heard it all before, the good and the bad. And I suppose it’s less about me apologizing for overreacting, and more about apologizing for thinking we’re friends. You clearly want nothing to do with me, so why am I pushing it?”

“I - wh-what?!” Apollo took a step back, astonished. “You wanna be friends with me? But I’m - ”

“ - not interested, ja, I know,” Klavier said wearily.

“ - an asshole,” Apollo finished, brow furrowing. “Gavin, I - shit, I’m - I didn’t think you...I thought you just liked teasing me ‘cos I react so easily, I didn’t know you actually wanted to, y’know, hang out and stuff. Because I - I’d like that, too.” He blinked; he’d said it without thinking, but only now did he realize how true the sentiment was. Just last week, he would’ve said the complete opposite. But during their conversation at the party - before he ruined it, of course - Apollo had ended up smiling more often than not.

“Achtung, you’re just saying that,” Klavier said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, Apollo, you don’t have to pretend. I’ll still model for you, I just - I won’t bother you anymore, ich verspreche.”

Apollo’s hand shot out before he could think twice, grabbing onto Klavier’s handlebar. “I’m not pretending,” he said firmly. “You asked what I think, and - I think you’re obnoxious as hell. I think you get bored easily and that’s why you act out during class debates. And you talk way too much.” Klavier raised an eyebrow. “But...that’s fine, ‘cos so do I. And I also think you’re...you’re smart, and funny, and almost too nice, and - and you don’t have to accept my apology, but I am sorry. Really. You deserve better friends than me and my assumptions and my big, stupid mouth.”

There was a beat, then another. Apollo held his breath. Then, Klavier’s expression relaxed, his scowl melting into a smile. “Such high praise, coming from you. ‘Obnoxious as hell’, ach. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that one, I’d buy myself a nicer bike.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Apollo asked, glancing down. “It looks so, uh...shiny.”

Klavier threw his head back to laugh, his hair shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Apollo felt his breath catch again for a very different reason. “If only looks were all it took. Nein, my baby is sensitive, breaks down easily. Have to handle her with a more delicate touch, you know?”

Apollo shivered. “Sure, I definitely know what you’re talking about.” He released the handlebar, then cleared his throat. “So, are we...good?”

Klavier chuckled. “Ja, we’re good. Though I almost wish I had your apology on the record, so to speak.”

“There’s that ‘obnoxious as hell’ thing again,” Apollo grumbled. “So...I’ll text you when I’m ready to do your final fitting. But, uh. Maybe we could study together sometime so you can continue to prove me wrong.”

Klavier leaned forward with a glint in his eye. “You know I will. And maybe I’ll be able to show you how to get the top test scores for once.” He finally put his motorcycle helmet on, though Apollo suspected he was still laughing at his own wit underneath it. “Auf Wiedersehen for real this time. See you in class tomorrow, ja?”

Apollo stepped back, waving Klavier off as he peeled out of the parking lot and headed out onto the road. He felt his heartbeat thump-thump-thump erratically in his chest in a way that disturbed him. Shaking himself, he turned and went back into the diner, determined not to think about it too much.

They were both in considerably better moods by Monday, having spent Saturday afternoon together in the library. Apollo was happy to eat his words the moment he saw Klavier’s extensive note-taking, while Klavier was a little too happy about rubbing it in Apollo’s face. So, when Klavier walked into the sewing lab wearing a bucket hat, an oversized Uniqlo tee, and a pair of Adidas joggers that Clay would literally kill for, Apollo was far more pleased to see him than he’d been last time.

“No selfies today, bitte,” Klavier said to the first-years who’d dropped all their things so they could swarm him. “My hair looks terrible.”

“Don’t fish for compliments, Gavin, it’s not cute,” Apollo sighed, elbowing him. “C’mon, I’m all set up in the drafting room.”

“I didn’t know I was trying to be cute,” Klavier replied, following Apollo through the doorway. Apollo shot him a look, then shoved his final garments into Klavier’s arms with a little more force than he’d intended. “I mean it, my hair is awful today. I’m wearing a hat and everything - ”

“Just change already,” Apollo huffed, dropping into his seat and turning to his laptop. About a minute later, Klavier was fully dressed. His hair was now definitely a tousled mess, having picked up some unfortunate static electricity from the coat. Apollo couldn’t help but snort. “No, you know what? You’re right, your hair looks like crap.”

“Einspruch,” Klavier protested, turning to look at himself in the mirror with a dejected pout. “We’ll have to be careful when I’m getting my hair and makeup done for the show, ja?”

“Makeup’s gonna be pretty simple, by the way,” Apollo said, pulling up a photo on his laptop and turning it so Klavier could see. “Foundation, bronzer, the basics. I’m going for Sarah Burton’s McQueen, not...y’know, McQueen’s McQueen.”

“Look at you, talking like a fashion student,” Klavier remarked, delighted. “Do I get to hear your opinions on - ”

“Nope. Not unless you want me to get poke-happy with my seam ripper.” Apollo motioned for Klavier to come closer. “C’mon, let’s see how you look.”

Like last time, Klavier held still while Apollo poked and prodded, turning and moving as he was told so Apollo could see what needed fixing. Luckily, Apollo only saw a few minor issues - a hem that needed to be let out another centimeter or so, some topstitching that could use a little reinforcement - and sent Klavier off so he could change back into his own clothes.

“Is that all?” Klavier asked once he was done. “You’re sure you don’t need anything else from me?”

“Uh…” Apollo looked up from his laptop, confused. “...no? I just have to fix a couple things and then I’m basically ready to hand off my collection to my professor. Why?”

“I thought we could celebrate,” Klavier suggested. “It’s no small feat, finishing an entire collection.”

“Work’s not over, though,” Apollo sighed, getting to his feet. “I’m doing my photoshoot soon, and then I gotta edit the photos, put ‘em in my portfolio, finish my portfolio - not to mention all the criminology homework I’ve been putting off.” He shot Klavier an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Gavin. I’d love to take a break and, y’know, hang out, make good on my word, but it’s just not gonna happen.”

Klavier hummed in sympathy as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Then, he brightened. “At least let me get you a fancy coffee or something, my treat.”

Apollo bit back a grin. “Shouldn’t I be buying you something? I’m not paying you for your time, after all.”

“Nein, I insist. Send me a text when you’re done and I’ll grab you something,” Klavier promised, reaching across the table to squeeze Apollo’s arm. “I was going to spend the rest of the day in the library anyways, keine Sorge. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I-I’m not looking at you in any kinda way!” Apollo protested, his cheeks now as warm as Klavier’s hand. “It’s just - you’re really leaning into the ‘too nice’ thing. It’s fine, seriously. Just go study, don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure,” Klavier said reluctantly, withdrawing his hand. “See you in tomorrow’s lecture, then.”

Thirty minutes after Klavier had left, Apollo had all of his outfits sealed up in garment bags and hanging on a clothing rack, ready for marking. He stretched generously - he wasn’t sure which hurt his back more, being hunched over a laptop or being hunched over a sewing machine - then began packing his things. Despite his original plan to head back to his dorm room and finish his ethics paper, Apollo found himself seriously considering whether to join Klavier in the library instead.

“Dammit,” Apollo muttered to himself. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

Five minutes later, Apollo was on the first floor of the building, heading towards the library, when he spotted a familiar bucket hat-wearer sitting at one of the tables outside of the entrance. It took him a moment before he realized Klavier wasn’t alone.

“Sur-pri-i-ise!” Apollo was promptly smacked in the cheek with an errant party popper. “...oops. Sorry, Apollo!”

“Oh, Kay,” Ema said, shaking her head amusedly. She then reached for another party popper and pulled the string. A few pathetic pieces of confetti tumbled out. “...seriously?”

“Guys, what the - what’re you doing here?!” Apollo exclaimed.

“Klavier texted us, obviously,” Clay shrugged, beaming. “And you know I’m not gonna pass up on free cake.” He opened the paper box sitting on the table, revealing six individual slices of cake from the artisanal bakery on campus. “But also - congratulations on finishing your collection, dude! That’s huge!”

“I never wanna see a sewing machine again,” Apollo said, taking a seat beside Klavier. “But thanks, guys, really. And thanks, Gavin. Are you sure I can’t pay for these?”

“Ach, stop,” Klavier laughed, nudging him. “Clay told me which flavors to get for you and your sister, by the way, in case you were wondering who the sixth piece is for. He said you were heading home for the weekend, so I figured I might as well get one more.”

Apollo’s entire body felt warm now; he turned away before Klavier could get a good look at his reddening cheeks. “Hell, at least let me pay for her piece, you don’t even know her!” Klavier continued to protest even when Apollo literally shoved a ten-dollar bill into his face, but eventually took it with another good-natured laugh.

“So what’re you gonna do now?” Clay asked, holding the back end of his plastic fork up to Apollo’s mouth like it was a microphone.

“I’m gonna go to Disney World,” Apollo drawled, lightly shoving the fork away. “C’mon, you know I still have tons of stuff to do. No more parties this semester, I mean it. I only have so many hours in a day, and I don’t wanna spend ‘em sulking over a punch bowl.”

“It sucks that you’re so busy,” Kay said, frowning. “I was hoping we could play laser tag or paintball or something soon!”

“You guys could go without me, you know,” Apollo said, taking his first bite. “It’s not like I have to be there.”

“Except you do.” Klavier was sitting so close, Apollo could smell his shampoo. “It wouldn’t nearly be as fun without you. I can already picture it - your utter defeat at mine and Kay’s hands, natürlich.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not her partner, I am.” Ema used her fork to flick whipped cream at Klavier’s face. To his credit, he barely flinched. “We can do guys versus girls. Clay’s athleticism can make up for Apollo’s...not-icism.”

“Okay, ow,” Apollo huffed. “I’m not that bad.”

“You once pulled a calf muscle in high school gym class while tying your shoes,” Clay pointed out. Klavier and Kay didn’t even try to hide their giggles.

“Th-that’s beside the point!” Apollo protested. “Seriously, I’m not gonna be free until the semester’s over. So unless you wanna wait that long - ”

“We can wait,” Kay shrugged, smiling easily. “I wanna see how bad you really are!”

“...thanks,” Apollo grouched, though he found himself smiling back at her - and the others, all nodding their enthusiastic agreement - all the same.

Of all the buses Apollo had been on throughout his life, the Sunday evening bus had to be one of the worst. For one thing, it brought him back to school, and while he liked school, he liked being home with his family more. For another, everyone on it was tired and grumpy and prone to snoring loudly or repeatedly kicking the back of his seat. Every single time, without fail, Apollo was glad to be back on campus if it meant the ride was finally over.

Apollo was barely awake by the time he returned to his dorm, sleepily dragging his weekend bag alongside him. He was so tired, he almost didn’t notice the person standing by his door. When he finally did, he nearly fell over. “Whoa, hey - Gavin?! Wh-what’re you doing here?”

Klavier’s smile was strained. “Sorry, I should’ve texted before coming here. But, er...do you think - do you mind if I, ah...sleep on your floor? Just for tonight, ich verspreche.”

Apollo stared at him, confused. “Well, uh - you can take Clay’s bed, he’s not back until tomorrow morning, but...what happened?”

“I’d rather not say,” Klavier replied, his voice low. Apollo hesitated, then nodded, unlocking his door and gesturing for Klavier to head inside. “Danke, Apollo.”

“Yeah, no problem. Um - ” Apollo took a moment to lock the door behind them, then tossed his bag onto the bed. “You might wanna text Clay to double-check, but I’m sure he’d be fine with you borrowing a pair of sweats or whatever. Just mind the shoeboxes.”

“Mein Gott,” Klavier commented with a weak chuckle, sitting gingerly on the edge of Clay’s bed so he could take off his boots. There was a pile of shoeboxes stacked underneath their tiny window that was taller than Clay himself. “He really is a sneakerhead, isn’t he?”

“He makes more at the school lab than I do at the bookstore, but I still have more saved up than him, and it’s no mystery why,” Apollo drawled. Klavier managed a stronger laugh then, though he still sounded worryingly subdued.

After they’d both changed and settled in, Apollo grabbed his laptop and began working on his latest criminology assignment. Klavier, on the other hand, sat in silence, restlessly fiddling with his phone. From what Apollo could tell, he seemed to be opening and closing his text app repeatedly without actually reading any of his messages.

Twenty minutes of somewhat uncomfortable silence passed before Klavier spoke. “Did your sister like the cake?”

“Huh?” Apollo looked up from his screen. “Oh - yeah, she did, thanks! She was, uh, kinda mad at me when I got home, so the cake helped smooth things over.”

“Mad at you?” Klavier echoed, intrigued. “Why?”

“Trucy - my little sister - she hates it when I’m away from home for too long,” Apollo explained. “When we were younger, we did everything together, and now it’s like...we’re missing out on huge chunks of each other’s lives. We text and stuff, but it’s not the same.”

“I see.” Klavier shot him a soft smile.

“You have an older brother, right?” Apollo asked. “You mentioned him in class before...he’s a defense attorney if I remember correctly.”

Klavier’s jaw tensed. “Ja, defense attorney. Not one you should aspire to be like, mind you.”

Apollo blinked, taken aback. “Uh...okay. Is that - is he why you’re, uh...here, and not at home?”

Klavier then shook himself, turning away from Apollo and pulling the duvet over his shoulders. “Ach, sorry. You were doing homework, I’ll be quiet.”

“No, hey - ” Apollo reached across the gap between the beds to nudge Klavier’s hip with his foot. “Listen, if you wanna talk about it, then...but if you don’t, we could watch a movie or whatever, take your mind off things? I’m too tired to do my homework, anyway. If I keep going, it’s just gonna be complete crap.”

Klavier turned back over. “The Devil Wears Prada?” he suggested with a tiny smile.

Apollo scowled. “...I hate that I like that idea.”

Moments later, they were sitting side-by-side on Apollo’s bed, watching the movie on his laptop. Klavier seemed happier now, more settled. Apollo was still curious, still tempted to ask, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. About thirty minutes into the movie, he felt his eyelids getting heavy, his entire body warm and pliant. Before he knew it, his head was drifting dangerously close to Klavier’s shoulder.

“You can lean on me if you want.” Klavier’s voice had dropped to a whisper, sending shivers up Apollo’s spine. “I don’t mind.”

Apollo quickly sat up. “No, I-I’m fine. I’m awake!” Klavier chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Klavier said, continuing to laugh. His expression then sobered. “But...ja, you were right. He was home, so I wasn’t. Shame, since I would’ve liked to spend more time with my parents, but...ach, well. Long story short, I’m sure you have a better relationship with your sister on your worst day than I do with mein Bruder on our best.”

Apollo shot him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, that...that sounds really rough.” He fell silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I, uh...I always thought you were on campus a lot for someone who lives at home. Now it makes sense.”

“He doesn’t even live there,” Klavier muttered bitterly. “He just...drops by without warning. An unpleasant surprise, to say the least. Telling me this and that about what I should be doing or what I shouldn’t be doing...it’s endless, achtung.”

“Sorry,” Apollo repeated, squeezing Klavier’s arm. “What do your parents say?”

A minute passed before Klavier spoke again. “...they try to keep the peace. They tell Kristoph, ‘don’t visit without telling us’. And when he does, they hug him and scold him in the same breath. ‘Klavier’s busy right now, don’t bother him’. But we end up sitting at the dining table together, anyway, and then…” He lifted a hand to gesture aimlessly, then dropped it like it was merely dead weight. “His favorite thing to say is - is that no one will ever take me seriously. Mama always protests - ‘nein, Klavier is sweet and smart and handsome’ - and ach, I love her, but she makes me sound like a five-year-old who just got his school picture taken sometimes. Then Kristoph says something like...like…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Apollo said quietly.

“Nein, I - I’ve never really mentioned this to anyone before,” Klavier confessed with a horrible, stilted laugh. “He says that...none of those things will make people take me seriously. That there’s a difference between people liking me and people believing in - in me.” He cleared his throat; Apollo didn’t like the way his voice had cracked just then. “And he’s right, natürlich.”

“He isn’t,” Apollo said. Klavier looked at him, surprised. “Well - sort of. But not about you.”

“About...me?” Klavier repeated.

“I know we’ve only been friends for like, a minute. My bad,” Apollo added with a self-deprecating smile. “But we’ve known each other since first year, and...I-I dunno. People like you and believe in you, Gavin. Our professors might roll their eyes when you get over-dramatic during class debates - and trust me, I’m right there with them - but they know you’re gonna be a really good prosecutor someday.”

“I suppose,” Klavier said, his voice small. “But...I don’t know. Will the courts take me seriously? Am I...professional enough? I might need to trade the jewelry and leather for glasses and tailored suits, like mein Bruder. Maybe a different hairstyle, too, ja?”

“Only if you want to, not ‘cos you think you have to,” Apollo shrugged. He then smirked. “I would advise against tight pants in court, though. Considering how trials can go for hours at a time, I shudder at the thought of what your blood circulation’s gonna be like at the end of ‘em.”

Klavier’s responding laughter, loud and full and warm, made Apollo’s chest ache. “Ja, ja, you have a point.” Then, he carefully laid his head on Apollo’s shoulder, their arms half-intertwined between them, and let out a sigh of contentment. “Danke, Apollo. Is...is this okay?”

“Yeah.” The word had left Apollo’s mouth before he’d even thought about it. “Definitely.” Once again, he felt his heartbeat quicken, that thump-thump-thump that resonated loudly against his ribcage. He could only hope that Klavier and his keen sense of hearing wouldn’t notice.

Hours later, Apollo found himself waking up without realizing he’d fallen asleep. Somewhere around the foot of the bed, he heard his laptop, now playing some random romcom; beside him, he heard the soft, even breaths of someone peacefully sleeping. He glanced down, eyes widening when he saw Klavier curled into his side, his long blond hair splayed out across Apollo’s pillow.

Apollo’s breath hitched. The sound caused Klavier to stir, his blue eyes blinking drowsily in the darkness. “...Apollo?”

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you!” Apollo exclaimed far too loudly. “But, uh - if you wanna move over to Clay’s bed...it’s not like we can both fit on a single, so.”

“We were doing just fine a moment ago, ja?” Klavier teased. Still, he sat up, stretching luxuriously. His eyes then widened as if he’d had some epiphany, reaching up to smooth out his hair. “Ach.”

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Apollo asked, frowning.

“Nothing, I just - I’m sure I look terrible,” Klavier commented with an awkward laugh.

“You really gotta stop fishing for compliments,” Apollo informed him. “You know you’re - um.”

“I’m…?” Klavier went to sit on the edge of Clay’s bed, looking at Apollo expectantly.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “G’night, Gavin.” He closed his laptop and set it aside, crawling under the covers before Klavier could press further. The smell of Klavier’s shampoo, still lingering on his pillow, helped him easily drift back to sleep.

Thump. “We need to talk.”

Groaning, Apollo lifted his bleary-eyed gaze from his laptop screen to look at Ema over the pile of textbooks she’d unceremoniously dumped in front of him. “...about your chemistry homework? ‘Cos you know I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Ema pulled out the chair opposite him, its legs making an awful noise as it dragged across the library carpet. A few nearby students glared; she ignored them and dropped down into her seat. “Clay said Gavin slept with you last night.”

“Slept with me in our room! Not - i-it’s not - ” Someone shushed Apollo. Wincing, he then dropped his voice to a whisper. “If that’s literally how Clay put it, he’s just pulling a fast one on you.”

Ema’s mouth twisted. “You sure?”

“Gavin’s dealing with some...family stuff,” Apollo said carefully. “He didn’t wanna go home, so I told him he could take Clay’s bed. Don’t make this something it’s not, alright?”

“Something it’s not?” Ema’s frown deepened. “But Kay said - ”

“Whatever Kay said, she’s probably just joking around,” Apollo said, his voice firm. “Her and Clay, they’re two peas in a pod. Or, y’know, two trolls under a bridge.”

Ema snorted, her expression relaxing into an amused smile. “Fine, fine, I believe you. I didn’t think he was your type, anyway.”

“Obnoxious? No, definitely not,” Apollo replied, turning back to his screen. “But in the end...I dunno. I guess he’s not so bad.”

“You really see yourself hanging out with him after your show’s over?” Ema asked skeptically. “Group plans are one thing, but I didn’t think you’d be up for one-on-one time with Gavin, of all people.”

“He’s not so bad,” Apollo repeated. “I - we talk. We can talk.” Ema raised an eyebrow. “...ugh, shut up. Let’s just study before we get kicked out, alright?” Shrugging, Ema finally cracked open one of her textbooks. Apollo, on the other hand, took a moment to mull over her words before returning to his paper.

The rest of the week passed by quickly, almost uneventfully. With his collection being done, Apollo’s schedule was slightly less hectic, though still just as stressful, what with all the homework he had to catch up on. He barely saw his friends aside from study dates and the occasional drop-in at the diner. When the weekend rolled around again, Apollo went to pick up his collection from the sewing lab, pleased to see he’d managed an A-minus, better than he’d expected. He then went to text his model to confirm they were meeting up for the photoshoot that afternoon, only to see he already had a text waiting for him.

“Again?!” Some students poked their heads in from the drafting room to shoot him dirty looks. “...sorry.” Groaning, Apollo sent a quick fine. to his now-ex-model, then scrolled down to a different contact.

I really, REALLY hate living in LA sometimes. Any chance you’re free and/or interested in being my photoshoot model too? Will pay you in milkshakes and/or coffee

Mere seconds later, he received a response.

and a short stack of pancakes if we ever go for breakfast/brunch, bitte und danke. where are we meeting?

Klavier took his first cautious steps into the school’s rooftop garden thirty minutes later, chuckling to himself when he saw Apollo carefully hanging his garment bags on a wood trellis like it was just another clothing rack. “Achtung, if I’d known we were meeting on the set of High School Musical 3, I would’ve insisted on bringing my powder-blue suit.”

“You do not have a powder-blue suit, don’t even lie to me,” Apollo retorted, turning on his heel to look at him. “You’ve never been up here before?”

“I didn’t know it existed,” Klavier admitted. “It’s beautiful, though. The greenery against the concrete...it’s the perfect shoot location.”

Apollo took a moment to look around and appreciate their surroundings. The rooftop was almost entirely covered in planters and pots and trellises, filling their vision with green. There was a small community garden where agriculture students had planted fruits and vegetables, and another area primarily for the school’s garden club that was packed with flowers. It was beautiful, quiet, and most importantly, completely free.

“I was s’posed to shoot in a studio with a professional model and a professional photographer, but...well.” Apollo gestured aimlessly. “Anyway, sorry to drag you out like this, especially so early. You sure you can stick around all day?”

“Don’t apologize,” Klavier insisted. “Let’s have some fun, ja?”

“More like ‘let’s get to work’, but sure,” Apollo said, smiling despite himself. “So, what’d you bring?” Klavier set down the bag he’d brought with him, then opened it to reveal his hair and makeup kit and a considerable amount of shoes, many of which Apollo had never seen him wear before. “...Gavin, how many shoes do you own?”

“I’d wager my collection is still worth less than Clay’s,” Klavier said wryly. “Go on, then. Treat me like your Ken doll.”

“I - o-oh.” Apollo had no interest in thinking about how much that sentence had affected him. “Right, um. First outfit, let’s go with the white brogues…”

After Klavier was fully dressed and styled, Apollo had him stand beside a planter of amaryllis flowers while he finished setting up the DSLR camera he’d borrowed from Clay. Every now and then, his eyes wandered away from the camera and over to Klavier instead. “Are you ready, Apollo?”

“Huh? Oh.” Apollo cleared his throat. “I was just wondering - when you say you modeled in Germany…”

“A little runway, some editorial...you know how it goes,” Klavier hummed. “I’m not signed anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking. I stayed with family friends while I spent a summer semester abroad, and they work in the fashion industry, so…” He bent slightly to smell the flowers. Seemingly on instinct, Apollo took a picture. Klavier turned at the sound of the shutter. “Ah, so we are starting.”

“I figured I could use some candids, too.” Apollo took another. “So, uh. Are you actually German?”

Klavier let out a surprised laugh. Click. “Do you think I put on this accent just to sound cool?” Apollo fixed him with a look. “Ich bin Deutscher, ich verspreche. Warum fragst du? Du magst meine Stimme?”

Apollo scowled. “Please don’t start.” Klavier continued to laugh, running his fingers through his hair as he shook his head in amusement. Click click click. As annoyed as Apollo was, he had to admit, it seemed impossible to take a bad picture of Klavier.

“Mit dir kann ich am besten lachen,” Klavier commented with a pleased smile. He then relaxed into a slightly more stoic pose, his gaze now intensely fixated on the camera. Apollo shivered. Click click click. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it’s in English,” Apollo replied, motioning for Klavier to turn.

“I don’t mean to pry into your family’s financial situation, but…” Klavier hesitated.

Click. “You’re asking why my rich papa isn’t paying for me, right?” Click. “I dunno, I just...I wanted to pay for myself. Tuition, books, everything. I wanted to prove that - that just ‘cos my parents are two of the best lawyers in the country, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna coast through school and work and, y’know, life. Be able to stand on my own and all that.” Click.

“Is that why you didn’t take either of their last names?” Klavier asked.

Apollo lowered his camera for a moment so he could raise an eyebrow in Klavier’s direction. “...you’re telling me that if you had ‘Justice’ as your birth surname and you wanted to be a lawyer, you would change it?”

“Fair enough,” Klavier chuckled. Click. “Ach, I better be quiet now or my mouth is going to be open in every picture.”

They spent the next couple of hours taking photos in different areas of the rooftop garden, rotating between Apollo’s five outfits. Klavier was silent - and obedient - for the most part, though he occasionally made a ridiculous face for the sole purpose of making Apollo laugh or roll his eyes. It was almost noon by the time they stopped, with Klavier changing back into his own clothes so they could head to the diner for lunch.

“Moment mal, before we go…” Apollo looked up from his camera bag to see Klavier crouched beside him, sunflower in hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Gavin!” Apollo spluttered. “You - w-we’re not supposed to take anything!”

“I found it lying in the dirt, I swear,” Klavier promised. “Look at the break in the stem, see?” He then carefully tucked it into Apollo’s shirt pocket. “There, perfekt.”

Apollo snorted. “You are so weird.” He straightened up, brushing off the dust on his jeans. “Anyway, let’s go before you steal anything else.”

The campus diner was relatively busy for a Saturday, with students hanging around, drinking copious amounts of cheap coffee and shoveling hashbrowns into their mouths while they desperately crammed for finals. Apollo and Klavier managed to get a booth; after they ordered, Apollo started looking through all the photos he’d taken so far.

“Can I borrow that for a moment?” Klavier requested. Shrugging, Apollo gave him the camera. He turned away, assuming Klavier was looking at the photos, too. Then, he heard a click.

“Hey, what - ”

“This lighting, it suits you,” Klavier said quietly, smiling. “You have the nicest freckles I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh. Um, thanks?” Apollo dropped his chin into his hands in a poor attempt to hide his burning cheeks. Click. “I’ve only got so much space on that SD card, y’know.”

“Just a few more, bitte,” Klavier pleaded. Rolling his eyes, Apollo reached for his glass of water and took a pointed sip. Click. “Where are we going after this?”

“The park,” Apollo replied. Click. “And then once it gets darker, I bet I could get some pretty good lighting on the pedestrian overpass and the bowling alley.”

Click. “That sounds wunderschön.” Click. Huffing, Apollo reached across the table to snatch the camera back from Klavier.

“The hell are these for, anyway?” Apollo asked, giving them a brief look. He had to admit, he didn’t look half-bad. “It’s not like I’m gonna post them anywhere.”

“If you ever need nice photos of yourself for a dating profile or something…” Klavier gestured aimlessly. “Bitte schön.”

“Dating...profile?” Apollo repeated dubiously.

“Has Ema not been bothering you about going on a double date? Kay asks me all the time,” Klavier said airily.

“..ah. Well.” Apollo took a more generous gulp of his water this time. “I’m, uh. I’m sure if she really wanted you to go, there’s no shortage of people who’d say yes to you.”

Klavier’s expression grew inscrutable. “Because I'm...everyone's type?”

“Because you know you’re…” Apollo hesitated, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you fishing for compliments again?”

“You’re going to finish that sentence someday, ja?” Klavier chuckled, relaxing. “Someday, I’m going to know what I’m supposed to know about myself.” Huffing, Apollo flicked a wet ice cube at Klavier’s face, delighting in the way it perfectly bounced off his nose.

After they finished eating - Apollo threatened not to pay for Klavier’s short stack of blueberry pancakes after he stole more than a few of Apollo’s home fries - they went on their way to their other shoot locations, settling into an easier rhythm now that they both knew what they were doing. Occasionally, they were stared at, sometimes even interrupted, by people who recognized Klavier. Some asked for autographs and selfies, all while excitedly praising his latest show.

“Never would’ve thought people would be so into a band that sings about law,” Apollo mused after they were stopped for the eighth time. “You play at the Fender Bender, you said?”

“And the occasional wedding or sweet sixteen,” Klavier nodded. The slow crawl of sunset was peeking through the chainlink fence on either side of the pedestrian overpass, casting a uniquely-shaped shadow across Klavier’s cheekbones. Click click click. “We only do covers at events, though. Less Love With No Chance Of Parole and more Crazy Little Thing Called Love, you know?”

“I just can’t get over your song names,” Apollo said, shaking his head. Click. “So...what happens after we graduate? Is your band still gonna be a thing?”

“I hope so.” Klavier rested his long, elegant fingers lightly on the railing, briefly turning to look to the sky. Click. “Are you taking an interest in my music for once?”

Apollo lowered the camera to look at him. “Not really, no. I’m just taking an interest in a friend.” It took him a moment before he realized what he’d said. “Wait! Th-that’s not - I-I didn’t mean it like - ”

Klavier was nearly doubled over with laughter. “Ach, your face just now - ”

“Shut up,” Apollo groaned. “And stop bending like that, you’re literally gonna split your seams.”

The bowling alley was a little more hectic, with students constantly passing through, watching curiously as Apollo took pictures of Klavier by the exterior wall of neon signs. While Apollo was growing more exhausted as the day went on, Klavier seemed to be in good spirits like always.

“Okay, I think that’s the last shot,” Apollo said, yawning and stretching simultaneously. “At least, my pointer finger sure wants it to be.”

“You’re sure you got everything?” Klavier asked. At Apollo’s affirmative nod, he smiled brightly. “Well, then - not a bad way to spend a Saturday, in my opinion. Dinner?”

“Dinner?” Apollo repeated, confused. “I was just gonna head back to my room and get some cup noodles while I edit these.”

“We’re at a bowling alley and you’re not going inside?” Klavier clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nein, that won’t do. Come on, let’s play a game and eat some hot wings. My treat.”

“Gavin, I really gotta…” But Klavier was pouting at him, his eyes wide and pleading and earnest. “...fine. One game, and I’m only sticking around ‘cos you’re gonna pay for my food. But seriously, you’re the worst.”

“So you say,” Klavier said gleefully; he was practically bouncing up and down. “Auf geht's!”

Fifteen minutes later, Apollo was settled in a chair, his garment bags and camera bag taking up the seat beside him, eating hot wings and lukewarm pizza and trying not to laugh as Klavier attempted to bowl in skinny jeans. “You picked a bad day to dress like a boy band reject again, huh?”

“Quiet, you.” Klavier watched despairingly as his bowling ball teetered pitifully into the gutter. “...scheisse.”

“Finally, something you’re bad at.” Apollo got to his feet, wiping his hands on a napkin before grabbing a ball for himself. “My turn.”

“Do I really have a reputation for being good at everything?” Klavier dropped into the chair Apollo had been occupying, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Because...I’d rather not.”

Apollo turned to look at him. “Really? I thought you enjoyed all the - y’know, the attention, the praise…you sure signed a lot of autographs today, anyways.”

“I enjoy it if I feel like I deserve it,” Klavier replied firmly. “Otherwise, I don’t care for it. It feels wrong.”

“...I see.” Apollo turned back towards the lane, preparing to take his turn. “You’re, uh. You’re more decent than I gave you credit for, Gavin. I'm still sorry for being an asshole.”

“You said that before,” Klavier remarked, chuckling good-naturedly. “It’s fine, Apollo, keine Sorge. Besides, I’ve been told I’m the kind of person that no one feels neutral about. They either adore me or despise me. I should be so lucky that you’re getting closer and closer to adoring me, ja?” Once again, Apollo felt his face redden; he was grateful his back was to Klavier. “Or - what was it you said earlier? Taking an interest - ”

“I am going to drop this on your foot if you don’t shut up,” Apollo threatened. Klavier did as he was told, though Apollo could still hear him smirking. He took a deep breath, and then, made his move. They both watched as Apollo’s bowling ball rolled down the lane, not even wavering once, resulting in the cleanest strike Apollo had ever made in his life. “Hah!”

“Achtung,” Klavier protested, holding back a snort as Apollo pumped both fists in the air. “That was a fluke!”

Apollo looked at him with a glint in his eyes. “Wanna bet?”

The sky was pitch-black by the time Klavier walked Apollo back to his dorm. They were both pleasantly full from the cinnamon sugar pretzels Apollo had Klavier pay for after his spectacular loss (“Serves you right for wearing skinnies to a bowling alley.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re a sore winner, Apollo?”), not to mention pleasantly drowsy from the day’s events.

“I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve done anything fun,” Apollo confessed. “It’s just been...sewing and studying and working at the bookstore. Free time’s for sleeping and eating.”

“I should drag you out more often, ja?” Klavier said, nudging him. “Something as simple as going for a run, you know?”

“That’s simple?” Apollo said dubiously. “First thing you need to know about me, Gavin - I don’t exercise. Ever.”

“I know, I was there when Clay mentioned you pulled a calf muscle in gym class,” Klavier teased, earning a well-aimed glare. “But you do have hobbies, ja? You aren’t just studying and working and sleeping and eating, are you?”

“If I have actual free time...I dunno. Movies, video games,” Apollo shrugged. “Back home, I pretty much end up doing whatever Trucy’s doing, which usually means letting her torture me for her magic show.”

Klavier chuckled. “Ach, your family sounds like a sitcom: ‘Three Lawyers and a Magician’. I’d watch it.”

“What about your parents, what do they do?” Apollo asked, trying not to laugh himself.

“They teach. Here, actually,” Klavier added, gesturing around them. They were crossing the main quad now, healing towards Apollo’s building. Both of them had naturally slowed their pace; Apollo had done so because admittedly, he didn’t want the night to be over just yet. He wondered if Klavier felt the same. “In the psychologie department.”

“Interesting,” Apollo hummed. “Do they...analyze you or whatever?”

“They try not to bring their work home with them,” Klavier said. “Papa used to tell us, try to find a job where you don’t have to work with people. People are unpredictable and hard to understand. Apparently, Kristoph and I took that as a personal challenge.”

“Seems like it,” Apollo remarked. “He’s right, though. People are...complicated, misunderstood. And we’re gonna have to deal with some of the most complicated people of all. My parents sure have the stories to prove it.”

“I’d like to hear those stories someday. But for now…” They’d come to a stop in front of Apollo’s door, now turning to face each other. “I had a good time today, Apollo.” If Apollo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they’d just come back from a date, and wasn’t that a train of thought. “I mean it. We should do something like this again, you and me.”

“Thanks again for your help, seriously,” Apollo said, carefully taking his garment bags from Klavier. “I don’t know why models keep canceling on me. It’s like I’m cursed or whatever.”

“This is going to sound terribly selfish of me, but in a way, I’m glad that they did,” Klavier said quietly, smiling. “I doubt we would’ve ever become friends if Clay hadn’t suggested I model for you.”

“True,” Apollo agreed, nodding slowly. His eyes then widened when Klavier’s hand moved to cup his jaw, his thumb brushing against Apollo’s bottom lip. “Hey, what’re you - ”

“Cinnamon sugar,” Klavier murmured, his voice low; Apollo felt his breath hitch. Klavier then straightened up, his eyes sparkling. “Gute Nacht, Apollo. Send me the final photos when you’re done editing, bitte?”

“Yeah, uh, definitely,” Apollo said, clearing his throat. “G’night.” He watched Klavier disappear down the hallway before heading into his room, where Clay was already sleeping. Once he’d hung the garment bags in his closet, he settled down on his bed to transfer the photos to his laptop. His stomach twisted as they popped up on his screen, one after the other. He wasn’t sure which was worse - the photos he’d taken of Klavier, many of which focused on the model instead of the clothes, or the photos Klavier had taken of him, his gaze soft and admiring whenever he looked at his personal photographer. “...shit.”

Apollo wasn’t exactly avoiding Klavier, per se. They still sat together in lectures, had lunch together at the diner and study sessions in the library, albeit with at least one other person present. However, it was one thing to think about the way his heart beat a little faster whenever he was with Klavier. It was another thing entirely to have photographic evidence of it on his laptop. He certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge the sunflower he’d carefully pressed and preserved between the pages of his journal.

Then there were the unread text messages, the thread that Apollo was too anxious to open.

there’s a new sci-fi movie coming out this friday, do you want to go with me?

we’ve got another show at the fender bender on a saturday for once, in case you’re ready to have your mind blown

are you in the sewing lab? i can drop by and bring coffee

clay said you haven’t been sleeping much lately. are you ok?

And finally:

sorry for bothering you. i’m here if you want to talk.

A few days before the start of the show, Apollo was sitting on the floor by the foot of his bed, surrounded by criminology textbooks, his stress levels at an all-time high. He’d submitted all of his fashion-related assignments, had gotten the last of his grades; if there was one thing he liked more about fashion than law, it was the lack of exams. He grunted at the sound of an insistent knock on the door. When the knocking continued, he groaned, getting to his feet so he could open it. “Clay, did you seriously lose your key again - oh.”

“Hey!” Kay chirruped, grinning. “Is now a bad time?”

“Uh - ” Apollo gestured at the mess behind him. “A little? Sorry, Kay, I-I really can’t talk right now.”

“What if I said it’ll only take, like…” Kay hummed. “...a minute, tops?”

“I...sure, I guess.” Apollo stepped aside to let her in, though he eyed her dubiously. “What’s up?”

Kay sat on Apollo’s bed, giving it a few experimental bounces before settling in. “Are you mad at Klavier or something?”

“Mad? No!” Apollo protested, though a sense of dread was already forming in the pit of his stomach; he should’ve known why she’d dropped by. “No, I’m just - I-I’m busy.”

“Too busy to tell him you’re busy?” Kay suggested with an awkward laugh. “C’mon, Apollo, you’re usually so good at replying to texts and stuff! And it’s not like you’ve stopped replying to me, Em, or Clay. So...why Klavier? Are you sure he didn’t upset you or whatever?”

“Definitely not,” Apollo insisted. “We’re fine.”

“That’s not what he told me,” Kay said. “I know it’s not really my business, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t interfere at least a little, so...just listen to me for a sec and I’ll get outta your hair, okay?”

Apollo’s brow furrowed. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Suddenly, her eyes hardened, her mouth set in a straight line. He’d never seen her look so serious; it scared him. “Klavier cares about you, y’know. Like, a lot. So you constantly changing your mind about whether you care about him isn’t cool. And if you’re only friends with him right now ‘cos it makes working with him easier, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Kay,” Apollo spluttered, stunned. “That’s not - ”

“Then prove it,” Kay interrupted swiftly. “It’s okay if you’re not actually interested in being friends with Klavier. It’s the pretending part that bothers me. I’ve got history with people acting like they’re someone they’re not, and if you’re making Klavier believe one thing when it’s really another...that’s all I came here to say, okay?”

Apollo nodded, his heart sinking. “I understand. I’ll talk to Gavin, I promise.”

“Good,” Kay said, satisfied. She got to her feet, her sunny smile spreading across her face once more. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Good luck with your finals, Apollo!”

“You, too.” Apollo waved awkwardly as she practically bounced out of the room like nothing had happened. Mere seconds after she’d left, Clay came barreling down the hallway, barefoot, a wild look in his eyes and a pair of muddy Nike Air Force 1’s in his hands. “...let me guess. You walked into a puddle, suddenly remembered you were wearing white shoes, panicked, lost your key somehow - ”

“How did you know I lost my key?” Clay exclaimed, amazed. Apollo shot him a look, then wordlessly pointed at the doormat. Clay sheepishly crouched down and began to wipe his shoes. “I literally ran into Kay on my way in, she come here to see you?”

“Yeah, uh, she wanted to talk to me about something.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Anyway, before you ask, I’m not paying for you to get your key replaced, again. You really should take it as a sign that you’ve got a problem when Student Services hides every time they see you coming.”

Clay snorted, elbowing Apollo lightly. “Hey, man, I’m just waiting for them to tell me they secretly had a ‘replace your key four times, get the fifth one free’ deal all along.” After he’d finished cleaning himself off, he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “So, talk about what?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean me and Kay.” Apollo sat on the foot of his bed, then let out a lengthy exhale. “Nothing, r-really!”

“You are the worst liar,” Clay declared, flopping onto his own bed. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, then, y’know, whatever, but - it’s about Gavin, right?”

“Wh-what?” Apollo stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you - ”

“It’s obvious, man. You’ve been avoiding him,” Clay shrugged. “I don’t really get why, I mean...I thought you were pretty close these days, especially considering how much crap you’ve been talking for the last four years. What happened?”

Apollo stared down at his hands for a moment; he was gripping his knees a little too tightly, Kay’s words still rattling in his brain. “Nothing, it’s just - i-it’s me. Me and my weird hang-ups, right?” He let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, um - I’m probably gonna go to bed early tonight. My brain’s fried.”

“If you say so,” Clay said, sounding somewhat uneasy. Apollo could tell instantly that he wasn’t convinced, but Clay wasn’t the type to push it. “But hey...if you need someone to help you figure it out, whatever it is, I’m here.”

Apollo smiled softly. “Thanks, Clay. You’re a good friend.”

“The best friend,” Clay corrected, flopping clumsily across his mattress so he could reach across the gap between their beds and clap a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “And don’t you forget it.” Snorting, Apollo shoved him off, then returned to his spot on the floor so he could resume his studies. He still felt a slight ache in his chest that he suspected wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

Show days were, in a word, chaotic. Apollo was barely awake by the time he and some others in his cohort arrived at the venue at 5 AM sharp, yawning and dragging his feet. There were already dozens of people running around - models, makeup artists and hairstylists, professors, show producers - filling the air with excited chatter and hurried footsteps.

Apollo went straight to the front-of-house area to set up his things, his portfolio and business cards and whatnot, then headed in further to admire the main stage. Though they’d done a walkthrough a few weeks ago, all that had been there at the time was the runway and some chairs. Now there were screens and banners and lighting and cameras everywhere, making it feel all the more real.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” He turned to see Klavier standing a few rows behind him; he was wearing a robe and sweatpants, his hair carefully pinned back. “Though I suppose you still prefer the courtroom over the runway.”

“It’s not like I’m the one getting up there,” Apollo snorted, turning to fully face Klavier. “...hey.”

Klavier quirked an eyebrow. “...hallo?”

“No, I mean - shit.” Apollo promptly tripped over a chair in an attempt to get to Klavier, who was trying his best not to laugh. “Shut up, I - I wanna talk to you. Can we talk?”

“Are we not doing that now?” Klavier remarked, smiling softly. Apollo’s heart thumped pathetically in his chest.

“I’m serious,” Apollo said, lightly shoving Klavier’s shoulder once he’d finally reached him. “I - I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you and avoiding your messages. I know that I hurt your feelings, and made it seem like we weren’t friends, and I’m sorry. I-I’m not gonna make any stupid excuses, I just - if I can make it up to you somehow, prove that I won’t do it again...”

Klavier’s other eyebrow went up. “Make it up to me?”

“You’ve done a lot for me,” Apollo said, quieter now so no one else could hear, though he spotted a few of his curious classmates over Klavier’s shoulder, watching them with rapt fascination. “The modeling, the snacks and drinks, the study sessions, hell, everything - if there’s something I can do, just ask, okay? No favor too big or small.”

Klavier stared at him for a moment. Then, his expression grew serious. “Just answer one question for me, then,” he said. “Do you really want to be friends? Because I believed you last time, but...ach, I don’t know. I really did have a good time that day, and then you just...ghosted me.”

“I…” Now all Apollo felt in his chest was a pang of guilt. “O-of course I do! I’ve been doing a terrible job of showing it, but I...I really care about you. I feel like...like I’ve been getting you all wrong this whole time, but now, you’re basically one of my best friends, a-and I - if you wanna know why I’ve been avoiding you, I’ll tell you. I promise, no bullshit.” He swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Klavier admitted. “Do you think it would be better if I did, or should we just put this behind us?”

Apollo shrugged helplessly. “It’ll, uh. Make things awkward, to be honest.”

“Then maybe not,” Klavier said with a rueful smile. “Anyway, breakfast should be arriving soon. Are we eating together?”

“Definitely,” Apollo said, somewhat relieved, though he knew the conversation wasn’t entirely over.

The rest of the morning went by surprisingly quickly. After breakfast, they did another run-through, then started final preparations for the matinee show. Apollo left briefly to change into proper clothes and style his hair so he would look presentable to the public, then went backstage to check on his models, who were getting dressed by show volunteers. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Klavier.

“Apollo?”

Of course, he’d seen Klavier wear his show look several times by now, but seeing it fully dressed up for the runway was another thing entirely. First, a simple white button-up with pearl buttons and bishop sleeves, perfectly exaggerating the leanness of Klavier’s torso. Then, a fitted pair of pleated pants, accentuating his long legs. Finally, the showstopper, the reason it was Apollo’s final look: a beautifully tailored coat with leather lapels, its narrow waist contrasting its flared hem, which stopped a little below Klavier’s knees, creating a dress-like silhouette. Paired with patent leather boots and silver jewelry, Klavier looked absolutely model-perfect.

“Oh - sorry, I-I didn’t mean to stare,” Apollo said, laughing awkwardly. He moved closer so he could brush non-existent dust off Klavier’s shoulder. “You, um. You look good.”

“Danke, so do you,” Klavier replied. “I always thought red was your color.”

“Er...thanks, I guess,” Apollo said, embarrassed. “The photographer wants group photos of the models, you good to go?”

“I had some water earlier, so I have to reapply my lip gloss first. Or…” Klavier held it out to him. “...maybe you can do the honors, ja?”

Apollo blinked. “...what?”

“Only if you want to.” Klavier settled down in his chair with a relaxed smile. Apollo stared at him, unsure of how to react. Then, he took the lip gloss, uncapped it, and stepped in between Klavier’s knees, desperately hoping Klavier wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

“I guess I’ll just - ” Apollo gently took Klavier’s chin in one hand, holding him steady. Then, he began applying the slick, sheer gloss, trying not to think about how pouty Klavier’s bottom lip looked up close. “Rub your lips together?”

Klavier did just that, making an exaggerated pop sound with his mouth. “How do I look? Still good, I hope.”

“...you’re fine.” Apollo capped the lip gloss, then handed it back to him. “Okay, now can we go?”

The matinee was slightly anti-climactic in the end, mostly attended by curious members of the public and college students who worked night shifts and could only make the afternoon showings. Thankfully, Apollo didn’t have to talk about himself or his collection much since no one was too interested in learning more. He knew that, unlike his classmates, he wasn’t looking for a job in the industry, so he preferred to give them the space to talk and make connections. At least, that was his justification for being quieter than usual; he was mostly just too tired to talk.

“Apollo?” For the second time that day, Apollo startled at the sound of his name. He lifted his head, only to realize he’d fallen asleep on Klavier’s shoulder, the two of them half-curled up together on one of the plush couches backstage. Some of his classmates were watching them curiously, even enviously. “Sorry. As much as I like being your pillow, I have to get ready for the evening show. Go get some dinner and come find me later, ja?” He squeezed Apollo’s hand before getting up, his fingers a little more calloused than Apollo had expected.

Apollo went over to the small buffet table that the show producers had set up for everybody, fixing himself a plate of food. He was so drowsy, he barely noticed the person standing beside him in line until he accidentally bumped into them. “Oh, sorry - wait, Dad?!”

“Fancy meeting you here,” Phoenix said, nudging Apollo good-naturedly. “You seem pretty tired already, are you eating enough? Drinking enough water?”

“Dad,” Apollo groaned. “What’re you doing here so early? The venue’s not s’posed to be open for another hour!”

“You weren’t replying to my texts, so I thought I’d swing by and make sure you were okay,” Phoenix shrugged.

“Really?” Apollo fished his phone out of his pocket, wincing when he saw a handful of unread messages and a couple of missed calls. “Shoot - sorry, I was taking a nap and my phone’s been on silent since the matinee.”

“That’s okay, just remember to take it off silent next time, alright? Miles was especially worried,” Phoenix added. “Speaking of, he’s coming by with Trucy in a few minutes. Any chance you wanna join us for dinner instead?”

“I’m, uh.” Apollo snuck a peek at the hair and makeup area, where Klavier was getting touch-ups. “I was gonna eat with Klavier, so…”

“That boy you’ve been talking about, huh?” Phoenix teased, smiling brightly. “Don’t let me stop you, then. But maybe we can all grab dessert after Saturday’s show so I can get to know him a little better. Y’know, dad things.”

“Dad,” Apollo repeated exasperatedly. “Please, just - just go.”

Phoenix snickered, squeezing Apollo’s shoulder in silent apology, though Apollo suspected he wasn’t all that sorry. “Fine, fine, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you later, alright? Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Apollo huffed, grinning despite himself. After Phoenix left, Apollo went to pull up a chair beside Klavier as he was getting his hair straightened, then started to eat. “My dad’s here. For my sake, please don’t make eye contact.”

“What about my sake, hm? I want to meet your parents,” Klavier commented. “Will you feed me, bitte?”

“Uh - I guess so.” Apollo carefully scooped a generous spoonful of fried rice, then held it up to Klavier’s mouth. “I didn’t exactly grab enough for two.”

“Hey, kid, don’t distract your boyfriend too much, okay?” the hairstylist complained, swinging their hair straightener in Apollo’s direction. “One wrong move and I accidentally fry his hair.”

“Oh, he’s not my - w-we’re not…” Apollo let out a nervous laugh. “But, er, right, sorry.” Klavier glanced at him curiously.

As expected, the evening show wasn’t too exciting, either - they were expecting a far bigger turnout on Friday and Saturday - though Apollo still felt a rush of adrenaline every time his models started hitting the runway. It wasn’t quite the rush he got when he was doing a mock debate, or even better, when he watched his parents in a real courtroom, but he still felt proud of himself. He’d survived the semester, and for him, that was more than enough.

“Are you listening to me, Apollo?”

“Huh? Oh!” Apollo looked up his phone and nearly dropped it at the sight of Miles’s stern expression through the rearview mirror. He and his family were heading home now; it was ten-thirty and he was exhausted and unsure of how he was going to make it through another two days. “Sorry, Papa, I was just texting my model - ”

“Your friend, you mean. Gavin’s younger brother.” Even though Apollo couldn’t see the bottom of his face, he could tell Miles was twisting his mouth unpleasantly. “You’re...fond of him, yes?”

“Er...yeah, he’s my friend,” Apollo said firmly, brow furrowed in suspicion.

Trucy grinned knowingly. “But you wanna be more than that, right? That’s what Ema and Clay said!”

“What?! No! No, th-that's not - ” Apollo scowled. “Dad, it’s not funny.”

“And I thought I was obvious,” Phoenix said, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Sorry, Apollo. Them’s the breaks.” Trucy continued to giggle at Apollo’s bright red face the whole ride home. Miles mercifully remained silent, but contemplative.

Friday’s matinee was much like Thursday’s - fun, yet uneventful; the most interesting thing that happened was one of the models nearly falling off the runway after the heel of their shoe had snagged on their hem. It wasn’t until Friday evening that things got a little more interesting.

“Congra-a-atulations!” Clay shouted at the top of his lungs, bursting through the front entrance with Ema and Kay in tow, the three of them holding the biggest, most obnoxious balloons Apollo had ever seen. Only a few of them said Congratulations, while the others proclaimed things like Officially Retired, Hello Baby, and Happy 50th Anniversary. Several people, including industry professionals and reporters, turned to stare. Apollo briefly considered hiding in the bathroom and never coming out.

“Before you say anything, it was their idea,” Ema said once the three of them reached Apollo’s table. “Here, this is probably the only one you actually want.” She held out a single balloon; all it said was Finally.

Apollo cracked a smile, accepting Ema’s offering. “Thanks, Ema. And thanks for being here, guys, but - really? Balloons?”

“There’s more where that came from in our room,” Clay admitted sheepishly. “I also got letter balloons, but they totally misread my order! Figured you didn’t want people thinking your name’s spelled ‘Appolo’.”

“...how thoughtful of you,” Apollo drawled, turning away briefly to tie the Finally balloon to the back of his chair. “So, uh, welcome to front-of-house, where everyone talks about their portfolios and collections and, er...stuff.”

“Wow, you’re good at this!” Kay teased, giggling. “Do you wanna exchange business cards like we’re real adults?”

“Sure,” Apollo chuckled, plucking one from his display and handing it to her. He accepted hers, then read it with a raised eyebrow. “Wait - ‘great thief’?”

“Don't worry about it,” Ema said, slinging an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “Where’s Gavin?”

Apollo’s eyebrow remained raised. “I didn’t think you were gonna be the one to ask. He’s backstage getting his hair and makeup done, why?”

“Never mind,” Ema repeated, now taking Kay’s hand and tugging gently. Clay was already halfway across the room. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Wait, you guys can’t go back there - ” Apollo sighed. “...and they’re gone. Great.”

Once Apollo managed to escape front-of-house duties, he went searching for his models, or more specifically, Klavier. Everyone was fully dressed and ready to go, completely settled into the routine. Klavier was standing a little ways away from the others, intently scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up at the sound of Apollo’s approaching footsteps, a smile blossoming across his face. “Ah, Apollo. Zum Glück you’re here.”

“You okay?” Apollo asked.

“I’m alright,” Klavier said carefully. “Kristoph has been bothering me all night. I keep telling him I’m busy, but he hasn’t stopped, so...I blocked his number for the time being.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Apollo said, frowning. “Do you wanna…”

“Talk about it? Nein, not at the moment,” Klavier replied, smiling bitterly. “Maybe after this is over.”

Apollo nodded slowly, somewhat sadly. “By the way, did you see our friends earlier? They really wanted to find you for some reason.”

“I did,” Klavier said, finally pocketing his phone. “They had some choice words for me.”

“Well...that’s not ominous at all,” Apollo deadpanned. He then folded his arms across his chest. “Let me guess, you’re not gonna tell me.”

“You know me so well,” Klavier teased, brightening. “Maybe later, ja? For now, let’s focus on putting on a good show.”

“Just so you know, I’m only letting this go ‘cos we gotta get going,” Apollo said, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But I’m making you tell me later - I will literally twist your arm.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Klavier replied, prodding him back.

Once the models were lined up and ready to head onto the runway, Apollo joined his classmates on the uppermost balcony, where they watched every show as a group. Now that it was their fourth showing, things were a little less new and interesting; many of them were eating dinner instead of paying attention to the show. Though Apollo was eating, too, he couldn’t help but turn and watch once he heard the music cue for his models. Naturally, Klavier always ended up catching his eye. There was a confidence in his stride, an intensity in his eyes, that Apollo couldn't look away from.

“You’re a lucky guy, Apollo,” one of his classmates commented, sighing dreamily.

Apollo briefly looked up from the sweep of his coat around Klavier’s knees. “Huh? Lucky how?”

“Yeah, so lucky!” chimed in another. “What’s it like, dating Klavier? I bet you get to go to super cool parties and meet super cool people!”

“Huh?!” Apollo repeated, baffled. “Gavin’s not my boyfriend, why the hell would you - a-and I don’t - we went bowling the other day!”

“That seems like even more of a date, if you ask me,” a third classmate commented, smirking. “I doubt he’d agree to go bowling with just anyone. Er, no offense.”

“It was his idea,” Apollo muttered petulantly, shoveling noodles into his mouth.

After the show was over and everyone had taken their bows, Apollo and the rest of his cohort headed out to front-of-house to see their family and friends. Apollo was immediately smothered by Clay and Kay while Klavier and Ema stayed back, observing the scene with equally fond smiles on their faces. Ema seemed less fond when she realized she and Klavier were doing the same thing.

“Dude. Bro. Man,” Clay enthused. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, and I have a pair of - ”

“Will you shut up about shoes for one second, my god,” Ema groaned, yanking Clay back so she could hug Apollo, too. “But seriously, that was amazing. You sure you’re not thinking of a career change?”

“Please,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes. “I never wanna sew another zipper ever again. There are seam-ripper indents in my thumb that I will have for the rest of my life. I have nightmares about the sound of the buttonhole machine - ”

“We should take some group photos, ja?” Klavier suggested, patting Apollo consolingly on the head, though it felt more condescending than anything. “Kay, do you have your digital camera?”

“When do I not?” Kay beamed, plucking it out of her bag. “I’ll go find someone who can take pictures for us!”

Once Kay enlisted one of Apollo’s professors to help, they arranged themselves in front of Apollo’s table, with Klavier and Clay in the back, Apollo in the middle, and Ema and Kay on either side of him. Just as they were getting ready to pose, Apollo felt a large, warm hand - the same one that had been on his head moments ago - rest on the small of his back, fingers splayed wide. He shivered. “Okay, everyone. Smile!”

An hour later, the venue was nearly empty, save for some of the students and professors. Apollo was packing his portfolio for the night, knowing his parents were going to be arriving any minute, when he heard the distinct footsteps of Klavier’s favorite combat boots behind him. “You’re still here?”

“I could use a ride,” Klavier admitted. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, I’ll text my parents.” Apollo pulled his phone out to do just that, briefly glancing over at Klavier when he started to flip idly through Apollo’s portfolio. “Getting distracted by your own face, Gavin?”

“You take a good photograph for an amateur,” Klavier said. “But, at the moment, all I can think about is the ones I took of you.”

Apollo’s breath hitched. “Oh. Really?”

“I asked for them, did I not?” Klavier then smiled bittersweetly. “Though...you did start avoiding me after that, so.”

“Wait, I - I thought you wanted my photos of you for Instagram or something, not your photos of me,” Apollo said, confused.

“Those would be nice, too, but nein, I was more interested in the other ones.” Klavier’s voice had dropped to a whisper despite no one being around to eavesdrop. “You looked good. The lighting, your freckles, the sunflower in your shirt pocket…”

“I pressed it,” Apollo blurted before he could stop himself. “The flower, it’s - I kept it in my journal.”

Klavier’s responding smile was radiant. “Really?”

Apollo turned away so he could finish cleaning up, his cheeks burning. “...maybe. Shut up.” Klavier merely laughed, moving even closer so he could help. Apollo tried not to think about how he felt warmer every time Klavier’s shoulder brushed up against his.

By the time Saturday evening arrived, Apollo somehow felt both exhausted and excited. Every nerve in his body was too worn down to muster up any more energy, practically dragging his feet as he walked around the venue, yawning profusely and hoping no one could see the dark circles under his eyes. On the other hand, he was practically trembling with anticipation at what he hoped he would be brave enough to do, now that their final show was almost over.

“You’re shaking, Apollo.” He looked up from his phone to see Klavier walking towards him, his hair and makeup freshly done. “Are you alright? Do you need water? Fresh air, maybe?”

“I’m fine,” Apollo insisted. “I’m just...I’m thinking.”

“Good to know,” Klavier teased. Apollo glared at him, unamused. “Kidding, kidding. What’s on your mind?”

“Dunno. Lots of stuff.” Apollo glanced back down at his phone. “I can, um. Send you those photos now, if you want.”

Klavier settled in beside him. “Only if you want.”

Apollo inhaled sharply, then opened his photos. Seconds later, Klavier’s phone pinged. “There. And...now you’re gonna know why I ghosted you.”

Klavier raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A moment of silence passed as he scrolled; Apollo held his breath, too anxious to exhale. “Achtung, you’re beautiful.”

“Wh - what?” Apollo wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.

“You keep saying ‘you know you’re…’ to me all the time. Obviously, you’re stopping yourself from saying ‘beautiful’, ‘attractive’, ‘devastatingly handsome’,” Klavier said, winking. Apollo rolled his eyes. “But what about you, hm? Though I don’t understand what you mean about knowing why you avoided me.”

“Y’know, I...I thought I was ready to, uh. Talk about this. And I don’t think I am? But, er, here goes.” Apollo took in one last deep breath. “I had a...realization, I guess, when I saw those photos. About, uh. About how I...look at you. And how I see you.”

Klavier’s brow furrowed. “How you see me?”

“Listen, Gavin, I think I - ”

“Klavier!” Apollo was swiftly cut off by one of the show producers. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! We’ve already started lining up, let’s go!”

“Wait, but - ”

“We’ll talk after, ja?” Klavier promised, clasping his hand over Apollo’s. “I...have a feeling I know what you were going to say. And believe me, I want to hear it.”

Apollo bit back a grin, nodding. “Okay. Oh, and is it too late to say ‘good luck’? I probably should’ve done it earlier, in case you trip and literally break a leg or whatever.”

Klavier laughed, reluctantly pulling his hand away so he could stand. “It’s never too late, though now you have me paranoid. See you soon...liebe.” Apollo’s heartbeat was still pounding wildly by the time Klavier was gone.

The next two hours seemed to drag on forever; Apollo never thought he was all that impatient until now, sitting with his classmates on the balcony, drumming his fingers against the railing while he waited for the show to end. Some of his classmates shot him irritable glances, then curious looks when they saw him perk up at the sight of Klavier.

“So when you said he wasn’t your boyfriend yesterday…”

“Please don’t start,” Apollo said firmly.

The moment the show was over, everyone headed out to front-of-house, where their families were waiting with gifts and open arms. Several of Apollo’s classmates were crying, elated and exhausted and overwhelmed. He couldn’t help but feel his own eyes well up when he saw his family, too, Trucy carrying the most beautiful sunflowers he’d ever seen.

“Polly!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs when she saw him, her voice carrying over the crowd. Apollo went to her first, sweeping her into his arms. “Oh my gosh, that was amazing!”

“Thanks, Truce,” Apollo murmured, burying his face into her hair to hide the fact he really was tearing up now.

“I’m so proud of you, Apollo.” It was Phoenix's turn to wrap Apollo in a big, warm hug. “I know this wasn’t your original plan, but you still pushed yourself and worked hard. And I don’t know anything about fashion - ”

“No, duh,” Trucy giggled. Miles tried not to snort.

“ - but your collection looked damn good.” Phoenix ruffled Apollo’s hair affectionately. “How do you feel?”

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Apollo said, wiping his eyes. “It’s just - y’know, with law, it’s like, one case takes three days at most, right? So it’s weird to have this one project that I’ve been working on for a year, and now it’s just - done, just like that.”

“You should be very proud of yourself,” Miles chimed in, wrapping an arm around Apollo’s shoulders. “That level of commitment and dedication is to be admired. Especially with you studying criminology at the same time, no less. Two very different disciplines, yet you excelled at both.”

“You guys don’t have to exaggerate,” Apollo protested, embarrassed. “My grades aren’t...the best.”

“Remember what I taught you, Apollo?” Miles let go so he could stand in front of Apollo, leveling his grey eyes to Apollo’s brown ones. “Grades, win records, awards - they do not define your character. Recognition, perhaps, but not definition. And you and I, we both have a bad habit of deflecting compliments we feel we don’t deserve. But you deserve it, yes?”

A slow smile spread across Apollo’s face; he nodded. “Yes, Papa, I do. Thank you.”

“Good,” Miles said, satisfied. “Do not sacrifice your confidence for modesty. Hold your head up high.” Grinning even wider, Apollo lifted his chin to meet his papa’s firm, yet warm gaze. Miles chuckled, amused.

“Aren’t you a poet?” Phoenix teased, kissing his husband on the cheek. Now it was Miles’s turn to look embarrassed. “Apollo, I think Klavier’s looking for you.”

“Huh?” Apollo turned to see Klavier hovering by the backstage entrance, waiting patiently. “Oh! I’ll, um, I’ll be right back, I gotta talk to him about something.”

“I meant what I said on Thursday,” Phoenix said, nudging Apollo. “Invite him to dessert. He barely said two words last night, but I wanna get to know him better.”

“Dad,” Apollo groaned, deflating. “That’s not an incentive for him to join us or for me to ask him in the first place, y’know.”

“I know,” Phoenix chuckled. “Go on, then, don’t keep him waiting.”

Apollo steeled himself, his heartbeat going nearly as fast as it had when he’d taken his final bow, then neatly threaded his way through the packed crowd. Klavier had a soft, sleepy smile waiting for him. “Let’s talk back here, ja?” The hair and makeup area was practically a second home for them at this point; Apollo was starting to become more familiar with the brick walls of the venue than the wallpaper in his bedroom. “So, how are you feeling? Good, I assume.”

“Relieved,” Apollo said, shrugging. “I mean, yeah, it’s an emotional experience, and I - I didn’t expect to get so attached to the fashion program or my collection, but...it’s also kinda nice to have it all behind me, you know?”

“I do.” Klavier sat down on what had become “their” couch. He had taken off the coat at some point, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of the shirt. His expression mostly looked as relaxed as always, but there was a flicker in his eyes that suggested he was as nervous as Apollo was. “So...where do you want to start?”

“I dunno,” Apollo admitted. “I-I suddenly feel like I have a million things to tell you, but I don’t know where to begin.”

“Then do you mind if I start?” At Apollo’s nod, Klavier continued, “So, you know I’ve had a crush on you since first year, ja?”

Apollo promptly choked on air. “Wh-what?! No, I didn’t know, what the hell - ”

“But you always seemed to have issues with me, so I...didn’t do anything about it.” Klavier’s smile slipped slightly. “When Clay suggested I model for you, I figured...at least my looks were useful. Like they often are, when nothing else is.”

Apollo felt his heart break for him. “Gavin…”

“Kay started to get nervous when we spent more time together,” Klavier said. Apollo hated how nonchalant he sounded. “I know she talked to you the other day. And yesterday, our friends confronted me...about you. Because none of us could tell what you were thinking.” He let out a rueful laugh. “For someone so expressive, you’re hard to read.”

Apollo hesitated. “Then...let me make myself clear, okay?” He sat beside Klavier, turning to fully face him, his knees pressed against Klavier’s thighs. “I…I never finished that sentence ‘cos it’s...i-it’s not about whether you know you’re attractive to me. It’s about whether you know you’re important to me. And we haven’t been friends for very long, but you’re - you’re, like, one of my favorite people ever. Somehow.” He ducked his head somewhat, embarrassed. “I’m...stupidly into you, Klavier. I have the biggest, dumbest crush in the world on you.”

“Stupidly? Dumbest?” Klavier echoed, laughing. “Should I be insulted?”

“You are still the worst,” Apollo murmured, grabbing Klavier by the shirtfront and yanking him in for a kiss. Klavier let out a surprised sound against Apollo’s mouth, then melted into him, winding his arms loosely around Apollo’s midsection. When Apollo pulled away first, Klavier turned his head, pressing his nose against Apollo’s cheek and nuzzling him affectionately. “...ish. Worst-ish.”

Klavier chuckled deliriously, kissing the crook of Apollo’s jaw before sitting up. “Achtung, this almost makes up for bowling.”

“Just admit you suck at it whether you’re wearing skinny jeans or JNCO jeans,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier’s thigh. “Also, if we ever get around to laser tag or whatever with the others, make sure you wear pants you don’t have to vacuum-seal yourself into.”

“So rude,” Klavier lamented, kissing him again. “And don’t you dare suggest I would ever wear JNCO jeans.”

“Guess I struck a nerve.” Apollo deepened the kiss, winding his fingers in Klavier’s hair. “C’mon, Klav, you don’t think you’d look good in JNCO jeans and heelies and the most neon windbreaker we can find at Savers - ”

“JNCO jeans with heelies? You really want me to break a leg, ach.” Klavier poked Apollo’s stomach, causing him to pull away with a giggle. “What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that sorta promised his parents he’d invite you to dessert so they can cross-examine you,” Apollo said, wincing. “But hey, if you make it out alive, I’ll pay for your food.”

Klavier smiled. “You drive a hard bargain, liebe. I accept your terms.”

“Dork,” Apollo snorted, getting to his feet and stretching. “Anyway, you should get changed so I can start packing everything up for good. What time is it?”

“Let’s see…” Klavier pulled out his phone. Apollo’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of his background - the second photo Klavier had taken of him, right as he’d become aware of what Klavier was doing. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes warm, his lips stretched into an embarrassed, but pleased smile. “...Apollo?”

“You’re quick,” Apollo said, gesturing. “I, er - I-I wasn’t gonna touch mine until we were...a sure thing.”

“I finally saw what you were talking about, and I liked what I saw.” Klavier stood as well. “The way you look at me, the way you see me...it’s exactly the same way I see you. Like the sun rises and sets in your eyes.”

“Dammit.” Before Klavier could ask, Apollo was grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him back in for yet another kiss. “You got me with that one. If your stupid music is as smooth as your stupid lines - ”

“I’m sensing a contradiction between your words and your meaning,” Klavier commented.

“ - then maybe I should go to one of your shows for once,” Apollo finished, playfully nipping Klavier’s bottom lip before pulling away. “Okay, seriously, we should really get going. Meet me out front when you’re ready, yeah?”

“Ja, baby.” Klavier dropped a kiss on Apollo’s forehead. “And bitte, talk me up to your parents so I don’t feel like I’m under arrest later. I’d rather not get on their bad side before our relationship is an hour old.”

“No promises,” Apollo said, squeezing Klavier’s waist. He took a few reluctant steps back, then returned to the noise and chaos of front-of-house, where his family was waiting. There seemed to be a permanent grin on his face now, a constant warmth in his chest; he shook his head in disbelief. Never had he ever been so happy to be proven very, very wrong.