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Apollo couldn’t believe he’d sat, once again, on the stands of Japanifornia’s hallmark stadium and attended the concert of a band he didn’t even like. Trucy bounced beside him, wearing seven layers of merch with his coworker’s name and face plastered all over it. She was clearly much more into this whole thing than he was. He couldn’t really be blamed, though, could he? He knew that face better and heard that name more often than anyone else in this entire stadium. He saw him nearly daily at work, be it at the courthouse or at a crime scene. That made this all so surreal, he couldn’t even try to enjoy it—though he had to say, this time wasn’t as bad. For one, no guitars had gone up in flames and no one had been murdered. For another, the lyrics—and the voice of the man singing them—had a chance to shine without all that obnoxious drum and bass blare.
A series of jabs to his forearm brought his attention from the thinning crowd and empty stage to the young magician, looking at him expectantly. “Polly, the concert’s over!” Thank God. “What are you waiting for?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked back.
Her face fell. Trucy cleared her throat as she gestured to his lap. He looked down and saw the bouquet of multicolored roses that had nearly made them late.
“Oh. That.”
Mr. Wright had gotten a kick out of the bouquet when he’d shown up at the office with it. He’d teased and poked him until Trucy had mercifully said goodbye to her father and pushed them out of the building. In blocking out all the jokes made at his expense from his memory, he apparently also blocked out the flowers entirely.
Now he was thinking about them again, he remembered that she had asked him about them once they'd boarded the cab that took them to the stadium. Apollo had no answers for her other than they’re for after the show . They’d been an impulse buy. He’d made a quick run for earplugs on his way to the office and spotted them near the check-out line. Before his wallet could cartoonishly free a fly from its confines, they were in his hands, and then resting in his lap. Trucy, a performer herself, pieced together what Apollo would rather die than admit: they were for Klavier.
Did Apollo know they were? His feet did, at least, after Trucy yanked him out of his seat. He made his way past security checkpoints that his ticket cleared to the surprisingly unassuming dressing room door. The brass star attached to the front assured him he was in the right place, even though he didn’t need it.
The lawyer knocked. Klavier opened a moment after wearing a thin black robe—was that satin?—and his hair pulled up in a bun above his head.
“Herr Forehead! I’m so glad you—oh, schatz , you brought flowers,” the rockstar teased, bringing the other’s eyes down to the bouquet of roses in his arms.
His face burned as if he’d run headfirst into the sun. “They’re from Trucy,” he lied, thankful that his bracelet was on his wrist rather than on the wrist of the man before him. He all but pushed the bundle of flowers into the other's hold.
Klavier stood back up to his full height, his smile changing in a way Apollo noticed but did not understand. The rockstar took the bouquet and traced the petals of all the roses. One, in particular, caught his attention. Slender, tanned fingers lifted it out of the paper wrapping holding the rest, and handed it to Apollo, leaning down again. That angle allowed the defense attorney to peer past the robe’s folds to the man’s bare chest. He did not ask for that. He looked away.
“Then show Fraülein Trucy this rose for me, please, as a sign of my gratitude.”
He took the rose—the one nearest to blooming out of the bouquet. “Your music is less terrible now it’s just you,” he blurted out, eyes fixed on the bright red flower, still processing the fact that it’d been given to him. He feared his face was putting the poor rose to shame.
Klavier laughed, full and loud. Apollo chuckled just hearing him. “ Danke , Herr Forehead.” That got him to look up. His expression made the defense attorney feel as if he were thanking him for something other than his attempt at a compliment. His perceptiveness brought goosebumps to his arms.
After a moment of admiring the other flowers in the bouquet, the rockstar asked, “Would you like to come in?”
Apollo shook his head, taking a step back. He gripped the rose harder and a thorn pricked his thumb. He hissed but tried to play it off. “N-no, thank you, Prosecutor Gavin. Mr. Wright wanted Trucy home soon.”
He rolled his mascara-heavy eyes. How could someone’s eyelashes be that long? Those were fake, right? “This is not the courthouse. Just Klavier will do,” he said, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Klavier will do anywhere, really.”
Apollo yanked his eyes away from the man’s purple lips and back to his eyes, praying to every deity he could name that it was a subtle shift. “Still no,” he reiterated. “And what’s with this getting rid of one flower thing, huh? You got something against full bouquets?” he asked before he could stop himself. Thankfully, he did keep the following sentence, these cost me way too much for you not to keep all of them , to himself.
As Klavier retreated to his dressing room, he explained, “It is common practice among performers.” When he emerged, the bouquet was no longer in his hands. Apollo assumed he set it down somewhere inside.
"I’ve never heard of it. Maybe Trucy hasn’t, either. She could be offended," the defense attorney pointed out. Though he was technically arguing to return the flower, he kept it close to him. His mind was too crowded to notice the irony.
"Are you offended, Herr Forehead?" he asked, a chuckle accentuating his words.
"What's it matter?"
Klavier chuckled again. “Trust me, I know of these things, and so does she. Keep the rose.” He emphasized the last phrase by placing both his hands above Apollo’s. The lawyer stared at them, entranced by the way his many rings gleamed under the fluorescent bulbs of the backstage hallway and the way the callouses just below his short nails teased his skin. This man was all tease, wasn’t he? Just as Apollo was done mentally adjusting to this new position, the rockstar patted both his hands and retreated. “ Tschüss , Herr Forehead. It was nice of you to drop by with the flowers. They’re wunderschön . Just lovely.”
Then Apollo was staring at the brass star with Klavier’s name, rather than at Klavier himself. He stood there for a few moments before retreating the way he came. When he made it outside the stadium, he spotted Trucy standing on the sidewalk, looking out for cabs. She waved at one, it seemed. Oh, wait, she was waving at him. He waved back as he descended the stairs to stand beside her.
Trucy’s eyes grew wide at seeing the rose in his hands. “Whoa, Polly! How’d you get that?” she asked, reaching for it. Instinctively, before he could think better of it, he drew it closer to his chest. She raised an eyebrow, more intrigued now.
“Prosecutor Gavin gave it to me, the bastard,” he grumbled. “Can you believe it? He gave me one of the roses I got him .”
She blinked once, then twice, then three times. Then, she gasped loud enough to put his Chords of Steel to shame. She pointed at the rose, then at the stadium looming behind them, then at him. “Oh my God!” she said a moment later when she recovered her voice. Apollo stared at her, dumbfounded. That was not the reaction he was expecting. “I mean, I always thought, but—wow! He really—Awww!” Apollo’s confusion worsened as he struggled to follow Trucy’s train of thought. She finally noticed his helpless expression and rushed into her explanation, bouncing in place. “It’s tradition to gift one flower from a bouquet you receive to the person you dedicate your performance to,” she said. “Usually it’s a teacher or a family member, but Prosecutor Gavin gave it to you!”
Apollo huffed and fought against his first instinct to tear all the petals out. “Actually, he gave it to you ,” he said, yanking his arm out toward her. “I-I lied and told him the bouquet was yours. He said this was his “sign of gratitude” for you.”
She stared at the lawyer across from her, unamused and unsurprised. She pushed his arm away. “But did he really ? For being able to notice tells so well, you’ve got some pretty glaring ones yourself.”
“I do not!” he squawked.
“Yes you do, Polly! You’re a terrible liar!”
“Well, he wasn’t lying,” he murmured, his free hand rubbing his bracelet. A quick revision in his head of his recent memories made him freeze in place. “Hold it. He never actually said the flower was for you, he only implied it,” he thought out loud. Trucy nodded, understanding his logic. A second later, Apollo yelled, “Oh, that tricky bastard!” as the gears clicked into place.
“You have to stop calling him a bastard, Polly,” she groaned. “He just did a really nice thing for you!” She gestured at the rose in his hand.
“And lied about it!”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Who lied first?”
Apollo crossed his arms. He felt a thorn poke his arm and winced. Trucy extended her open hand, silently offering to hold it so he could sulk without worrying, but he shook his head and brought the rose closer to him. He settled for mumbling under his breath during the cab ride back to the Wright Anything Agency. His horns fell on his face at one point, but he lacked both the hands and the interest to rectify them. His mind was too focused on ignoring Trucy’s attempts to justifying the prosecutor’s lie as trying to spare him some embarrassment.
When they walked into the office, Mr. Wright greeted his daughter and thanked Apollo for keeping an eye on her. Then, he noticed the rose in the other lawyer’s death grip. “Ah, young love,” he sighed, Trucy laughing along with him. The younger defense attorney growled. His hands curled into fists but uncurled almost immediately when a third thorn jabbed at his left hand.
“I didn’t ask for this, Mr. Wright.” He went to his desk and set the rose down beside his stack of mangas.
Before he could continue his bitter rant, his boss tossed a pair of keys at him. He caught them and sighed tiredly, already knowing the routine. “Well, regardless of that, it’s your turn to close up shop tonight,” he instructed. Father and daughter shared a knowing look. “See ya tomorrow, Apollo.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow,” he replied, waving the Wrights goodbye. A few moments later, only the rose kept him company in the dimly lit office. Apollo sat down and picked it up, twirling it in his hands as he ran through his options. He could throw it out and nip this source of teasing and jokes at the bud, but his fingers reflexively tightened around the stem when the thought crossed his mind. Clearly, that wasn't the way to go, but what could he do, then?
He stood up with a sigh and fished out a tall glass, filling it with water in the bathroom sink. Moving some trinkets in his desk around, he made space to put the glass down near the window, where it could get light during the day. Then, he set the rose in it. The nearly-bloomed bud leaned over one of the edges, contrasting nicely with the lamp on the other corner. "Screw you, Prosecutor Gavin," he muttered as one of his fingers trailed the soft, red leaves like the rockstar’s had when he picked it out. One last look around for good measure, and then Apollo locked the door, closing the Wright Anything Agency for the night.
The next morning, Klavier knocked on that same door, a white binder tucked under his arm. Trucy answered. " Hallo , Fraülein!" he greeted, giving her a one-armed hug when she fell into his chest. "Your father is in, ja ?"
She nodded, moving aside so he could walk in. "Daddy! Prosecutor Gavin's here to see you!" she announced, prompting the man to go to the foyer. When he noticed Klavier, he extended a hand. The prosecutor took it and shook it.
"Good thing Miles finally sent this over," he said as the binder exchanged hands. "Thank you for bringing it."
"Ach, it was no trouble," he assured, waving his now-free hand. His eyes darted around the office as subtly as they could, but both Wrights were far too observant.
"Polly's out getting breakfast," Trucy explained, rightly assuming he was looking for Apollo She exhaled sharply as Klavier fixed his bangs, hoping to conceal a blush at being found out. "You just missed him, actually."
He waved his hand again, but his nonchalance felt forced. “I’ll see him again eventually,” he joked, hands on his hips. “I could not have stayed, anyway. Duty calls.”
They assured him they understood and would let Apollo know he stopped by. Klavier thanked them, then made his way out of the office, walking unnecessarily close to the young defense attorney’s desk as he did so. The Wrights turned away just as he passed the spot where a blooming rose stood basking in the sunlight, its glass half-full of water. “Oh, schatz ,” Klavier swooned in one quiet breath before moving on, trying his hardest to look like nothing had happened and miserably failing. When he turned on his heel at the door to wave goodbye a moment later, Trucy winked at him. He chuckled before finally stepping through and leaving.
Father and daughter shared a knowing look before going back to their previous endeavors, each thinking of the way to break the news to Apollo when he came back that would cause the loudest yell.