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Chapter Text

Apollo startles awake, pulling himself out of a dream that fades from memory with every flicker of his eyelids. Groaning, he shoves aside sheets that feel too constrictive in the summer heat, coupled perfectly with the sound of birds chirping outside and LA traffic peppered with the occasional beep of a car horn.

They’re sensations he’s grown used to by now. Still, even six years later, he’ll find himself reaching for the nostalgia of his old home. It feels too empty, sometimes, to not hear his sister clambering up the stairs every morning and see his mother’s smile greet him as he walks out the door.

But as happy as he is to be here, living his life and pursuing his dreams, something is missing, he thinks. Apollo feels all twenty-two years of age as he stumbles to the bathroom, desperate to splash some water on his face when he stops short in front of the mirror.

Tear tracks stain his cheeks, the wetness around his eyes clearly not from the dredges of sleep. Apollo scowls at his reflection, indignantly wiping his face as though it’ll make the impossible sense of yearning that wells in his chest disappear.

It’s happened enough that Apollo’s learned to accept it. The surety that he’s forgotten something terribly important sits like a rock in his ribcage, hollowly pinging for something to grab onto with every shaky breath he takes. He doesn’t know what it is, but…

Guess it’ll just be one of those days.

-six years earlier-

“Polly! You’re awake on time today!” Trucy crows, leaning over the kitchen table to grin widely at her brother as he thumps down the stairs.

“Huh? Whaddya mean? I’m always awake on time,” Apollo grumbles while sitting for breakfast.

“Nuh-uh! Yesterday you were soooo tired that Mommy had to wake you up!” The nine-year-old relishes Apollo’s confusion as she digs into her eggs.

“It’s true, sweetie,” Thalassa laughs, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You even forgot to do your vocal routine.”

“And your hair!”

“Mom, I’ve told you they’re Chords of Steel, not a vocal routine! And I never forget to do my hair. Trucy probably pulled a trick on me,” Apollo challenges, spooning out his cereal with more force than necessary. 

“Mommy said I’m not allowed to do those anymore,” Trucy frowns, jutting her bottom lip indignantly. Apollo sticks his tongue out at her. She responds in kind.

“But honestly, darling – are you alright today? Getting enough sleep?” His mother frets over him, hands fluttering towards his face. Apollo bats them away, face hot with embarrassment.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Apollo replies, a little sharper than he means to be. He winces. “I just...had a weird dream last night. Really, I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Her eyes crease with concern as she reaches out to gently brush against his bangs. “Hm. I did like your hair down, though.” A wistful smile adorns her face as she pulls back, and Apollo feels a frog crawl up his throat.

“Trucy, we’re gonna be late; we should – go.” His spoon clatters against the almost empty bowl as he grabs his backpack, gesturing for Trucy to hurry. “Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Mommy!”

Their mother waves her goodbyes as Apollo swings the front door closed. The crisp morning air feels grounding, and Apollo takes a slightly relieved step away from their porch. As usual, the walk to school is painfully ordinary, with neighbors cheerily greeting them from their gardens and classmates muttering through sleepy conversations in their own groups as they walk the same path.

Little Piney, Colorado has never been a particularly glamorous town. Sure, they got the occasional tourist looking for ‘hidden hiking trails’ or ‘small town treasures,’ but it was just far enough from the decadent dining of Aspen and relaxed stoner vibe of Denver that it tended to go below the radar of the typical crowd. The mountains framed a single main street, with homes and small businesses peppered throughout the treeline.

It was home for Apollo – always had been, and always would be. And that was fine.

It was fine, right?

Thankfully, whatever rabbit hole of thought Apollo is about to spiral down is interrupted by a hand clapping on his shoulder, attached to one Clay Terran.

“Hey, you know how to get to school today!” Clay teases, pulling Apollo into a headlock and affectionately messing up his hair.

“Gah – Clay!” Apollo pulls himself free and rapidly attempts to straighten his carefully styled horns.

“You put your hair back up? I was serious yesterday when I said you’d save money on gel with your new look,” Clay continues, tilting his head in curiosity. “Were you sick yesterday or somethin’?”

“Huh? You think so too?!” Apollo says, dejectedly blowing his now limp bangs out of his face. “Yesterday was totally normal – I got up, I went to school, finished our project, went home and had dinner, did my homework, and went to bed. Er, did I? I’m not forgetting anything, right Trucy?”

“Pollo, our project was due the day before yesterday.” Clay lets out a sharp and overly dramatic gasp, swooping Trucy into a protective hug. “Trucy, I think aliens abducted your brother! You’ll have to do some magic to help him break free!”

Trucy, of course, doesn’t miss a beat playing along to Clay’s antics. She lets out a fake gasp of her own. “Oh no! Do you think the aliens’ll give Polly back before my next show?”

“No way – they’re gonna use him to learn your magic tricks and get all of us!” Trucy gives a resounding shriek of delight as Clay swings her around.

Apollo lets out an unimpressed sniff, failing to resist rolling his eyes. “Okay, are you guys done now?”

“You just don’t appreciate the art of theater,” Clay replies, a bone-deep sigh escaping his lungs as he puts her down, waving goodbye as she enters her elementary school’s courtyard.

“Seriously though, are you alright?” Clay asks, his voice dropping with worry as they start the half-block walk to their high school. “You were really out of it yesterday.”

“I mean – I had a weird dream last night, but that’s pretty much it. A-and how weird could it be? I don’t even remember it.”

“Dude, I think you might have been possessed. You were like – suuuuper cool. Way too suave to be yourself.”

“Hey!” Apollo yelps in indignation. “I’m cool when I’m not possessed! Cooler than you, at least,” he grumbles.

“You’re setting the bar real high for yourself, there,” Clay replies, cutting sarcasm offset by the dopey grin on his face. “I’m glad to see you’re back to normal, though.”

“Yeah, I – yeah. Thanks. I just...was our project really due the day before yesterday? Because that’s weird that I’d – yeah. I’m sure it’s fine,” Apollo finishes lamely, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about it! We all have off days,” Clay chirps. “Only on your off days, you decide to sing during lunch.”

“I – what?!”

The day is uneventful like Apollo expected, only interrupted by the occasional snide comment from his teachers and classmates.

“I see you know your name today, Mr. Justice.”

“Oh, you remember where your seat is!”

“Aww, you aren’t flirting with me today? And no German?”

And the only clue he gets is a message scribbled in the margins of his English notebook:

what’s your name? i’m klavier!

By the time lunch rolls around, Apollo has had it.

“Okay, guys!” Apollo yells, slamming his fists on the table. “What’s going on? What happened to me yesterday?!”

“I think Clay’s ‘abducted by aliens’ idea is pretty spot-on!” Athena replies, thoughtfully picking through whatever grossness they’re serving in the cafeteria today. “Or maybe the weird building we explored last week was haunted!”

“Nahhh, no way. None of the EM detectors I brought were reacting,” Clay dismisses, nodding to himself. “Or maaaybe Pollo’s been...replaced? Like with a doppelgänger.”

“You’ve been reading too much sci-fi,” Apollo says, waving the thought aside. “And I don’t feel possessed. ...wait, what am I saying? Ghosts aren’t real,” Apollo huffs.

Juniper frowns, eyebrows curved upwards in concern. “What if you’re sick? I could bring some medicine from my grandmother’s garden if that might help.”

“Thanks, Junie. I mean...I feel fine? Just had a weird dream last night.”

“Whaddya mean, weird?” Athena questions. “My mom would say that’s something your subconscious is trying to tell you.”

“What does dreaming about living in LA have to do with my psyche?”

“LA? Why there?” Clay chews on his sandwich thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. I mean, it was nice though – lots of people. I was going to a legal high school or something? And I had a job at some kinda law office.”

Athena gasps. “¡Por supuesto! Maybe you were dreaming about the future!”

“Ooh, yeah! I like that one,” Clay pipes up, leaning forward.

“Psh, a legal high school? Come on, there’s no way something like that actually exists,” Apollo remarks.

“Yeah, can you imagine?” The group titters amongst themselves.

“But seriously, Apollo. You’re feeling alright now?” Athena’s mouth creases with scrutiny.

“I mean – yeah, I feel fine. Must’ve just been tired.”

It’s only at the end of the day, freshly showered and ready to sleep, that Apollo lingers in front of his reflection. His bangs hang in front of his eyes, a spitting image of –

Nope. Apollo forcefully shuts the thought down, swallowing whatever emotions cause his breath to hitch. He burrows in the covers, childishly squeezing his eyes shut and willing the sensation away.

After it passes, he relaxes on his back, staring at glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling.

Would be nice, though, Apollo thinks while drifting off. To be a lawyer in LA…

~

An unfamiliar alarm blares in Apollo’s ears the following morning as he blinks awake to a room decorated with posters of bands he doesn’t recognize. He groggily wipes the sleep from his eyes before searching for the source of whatever’s making the infernal racket.

A cell phone on the nightstand vibrates with the force of its tinny alarm. After shutting the offensive noise off, Apollo squints at the screen: this isn’t his phone. The background contains three unfamiliar people playing instruments on a stage: one tanned blonde, a brunette with curly hair, and a pale edgy guy with a pompadour.

Apollo’s eyes itch with sleep as he rolls over.

If it’s a dream, might as well just go back to sleep.

A knock sounds against the door.

“Klavier, wake up! I’m not driving you to school again.” The man’s voice seems unnecessarily sharp for the situation, and Apollo hears a door slamming nearby. He frowns, slowly coming to terms with being awake, before taking a more in-depth look at his surroundings.

The room has some kind of organizational system, but Apollo won’t pretend to understand it. Music sheets and scribbled notes cover the wooden desk, with clothes draped on various surfaces. It’s messier than his room, to be sure, but Apollo appreciates the immediate sense of personality he gets from the space.

He pulls himself out of the (ugh, too soft) bed and looks down.

What the – I don’t sleep half-naked!

Apparently, that doesn’t mean much. The chest he sees isn’t anything like Apollo’s own: broad, tanned, and further away from the ground than he’s used to. He stumbles to the vanity a few steps away and –

The face that greets him is unfamiliar and flatteringly pretty. Where Apollo expects soft brown hair, he feels stiff and staticky golden strands. Instead of puffy cheeks and a round face, there are only firm angles and a pointed chin. Where there should be dull brown eyes, he sees only disconcerting crystal blue.

Gently, Apollo frames his(?) face with his hands, fingers covered in slightly rusted silver rings.

“Wow…” This guy is kinda hot.

He scowls at his reflection: even twisted up in a frown, the face is strangely handsome. Apollo pulls himself away from the mirror, glancing at the uniform hanging from the open closet door.

Themis Legal Academy. Is this the same dream as last time?

His phone buzzes with the sound of a text.

Dayumyan 💀💣

Wednesday, 7:20 AM

yo do u need me to come get u for class again

Uhhh sure? You know where I am?

tf kinda question is that

be there in ten

Apollo squints at his phone before shrugging and exploring the apartment. Despite the almost overwhelming amount of hair products in the bathroom, there’s no hair gel? He figures he’d put some somewhere in this dream, right? But no – there’s only some weird brand-name pomade. Looks like Apollo will have to make do.

His phone pings again – it’s a message letting him know that ‘Dayumyan’ (what kind of name is that, even? His subconscious needs to get a grip) is here. He hurries out of the apartment, locking the door behind him before his location really starts to sink in.

It’s a metropolis: palm trees line brief stretches of grass, interrupted by tarmac roads and cars crowded into too few lanes. Intermittent honks rise above the clamor of people trying to start their day. Just along this block, he sees more people on the sidewalk than live in the entirety of Little Piney.

A window rolls down from a car Apollo didn’t notice was there, revealing a teenager behind the wheel.

“Hey, you gonna get in? You can look at the sights after we get to class. You alright? Your hair’s fucked up.”

Apollo studies him for a moment before it clicks. This is one of the kids in the band photo.

“Y-yeah, sorry. Got a little distracted.” Apollo takes a moment to startle at the lilting voice that floats out of his mouth before pulling the passenger side door open. He drops into the seat while still absorbed in the bustle of his surroundings and can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at the skyscrapers above them.

Now this is a city!

“Hey, this is gonna be a weird question but...we’re in Los Angeles, right?”

The boy next to him gives a bewildered glance, recklessly angling his body away from the wheel in the way only a brand-new driver could. “Huh? Of course we are – what, you hit your head or something?”

“No, I’m fine! Just – wow. Heck of a place, isn’t it?” Apollo laughs, giddy and a little nervous. The boy creases his eyebrows before brushing his hand against Apollo’s forehead.

“You’re not sick, are ya?”

“N-no!” Even though there’s no possible way he could get found out in his own dream, Apollo still feels himself sweat.

“Huh. Alright, weirdo. Aux cord’s all yours.” The kid pulls a wire out of the middle console before handing it to Apollo and thankfully returning his eyes to the road.

He uses the opportunity to flick through his dream self’s music library, wrinkling his nose at the selection. This guy listens to The Weeknd? Gross.

Unsatisfied, Apollo finds an oldies playlist and relaxes in his seat.

“Dude. Klavier. Are you like, eighty? What is this?” The guy beside him laughs, poking at Apollo’s shoulder.

“Hey, this is better than everything else on my playlist right now.”

“This is deadass what my mom listens to.”

“Well, your mom has good taste, then.”

“I think she’s gonna cry tears of joy when I tell her about this,” he chuckles, refocusing on the road with a bemused smile. “I can picture it now – ‘oh, Daryan, does this mean your band is going in a new direction?’”

“Our...band?” It all finally slots into place – of course he’s the same blonde guy as in the picture. And the guy’s name is Daryan, not ‘Dayumyan.’

“Huh. This is a really weird dream.”

“I think you’re still asleep, man,” Daryan says, affectionately shaking his head. “You better wake up, ‘cuz we’re here.”

The car pulls to a stop, and Apollo steps out to what looks like a university campus.

“What the…”

“Come on, Viola’s gonna make fun of us if we’re late again.” Daryan slings a backpack over his shoulder, leaving Apollo to scramble after him through throngs of students wearing uniforms that blend together in shades of red and blue.

Their classroom lies a few floors off the ground, and Apollo feels slightly woozy looking out the window. He hesitantly takes a seat next to Daryan, waving hello to the seeming waves of people that greet him.

Apollo must have eaten something really odd last night because the day’s lessons are focused almost entirely on law. Professors rotate in and out of the classroom, and Apollo can’t help but grin in delight every time he recognizes one from TV. It’s as though his subconscious wants to apologize for making him forget an entire day by giving him his wildest dreams.

By the time lunch rolls around, Apollo’s binder is packed with a dense scrawl of hurried and somewhat nonsensical notes, at odds with the light and fluid handwriting of those that precede them. He picks at an overpriced sandwich until he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Scoot.” Apollo looks up into warm hazel eyes, framed by curly hair and a friendly smile.

“Ah! Sorry,” Apollo says, making room for the girl on the bench. She raises her eyebrows in mock suspicion.

Oh, she’s from the picture, too.

“Don’t worry about it, Viola. Klavier’s been actin’ weird all morning,” Daryan says, pulling a notebook out of his bag. “Y’know he pulled out oldies on our way to class?”

“No way!” Viola laughs. “You hate when I put on my playlists.”

“What? No way, oldies are great,” Apollo fires back, briefly forgetting himself. “Whatever I was listening to before was bad.”

“Take notes – he’s gonna make our whole brand change, now. Just like when he got into Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert.” Daryan shudders. “If I have to hear another banjo ever again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Well, I support you, Klavier!” Viola says, giving Apollo a sunny smile. “Even if you’re going through your midlife crisis at seventeen.” The conversation dissolves into lighthearted teasing and a discussion of the day’s lessons before the bell rings, throwing them back into classwork for the rest of the school day.

At the sound of the final bell, Apollo walks with Daryan and Viola to the school’s parking lot, packed to the brim with the traffic of students trying to leave. He tunes into their conversation, mind catching on the details of an upcoming band practice.

“So...I guess I’m the lead singer of a band?” Apollo asks himself, pressing an index finger between his brows. “Why would I dream about that…?”

Viola and Daryan exchange a look before leaning into Apollo’s space, mildly distressed.

“Did Kristoph say something to you about The Gavinners again?” Daryan asks. “Because like, you know we aren’t gonna kick you to the curb because you’re busy or anything.”

“Yeah! We know you work really hard for the band, but it’s okay if you need to take a break,” Viola continues, nodding. “We’re all busy with classes, but it’s gotta be especially rough for you with your internship at the Prosecutor’s Office.”

“My...huh?” Apollo’s mouth hangs slightly open in confusion before he scratches the back of his head. “I wanna be a prosecutor?”

Weird choice if it’s my dream.

“Please, it’s all you talk about,” Daryan snorts. “All ‘you won’t believe what case I’m documenting right now!’ and bright eyes at not getting paid for your work. I swear, if your brother has been talking more smack on your choices, I’ll fight him. ‘S none of his business.”

“Kristoph...right. Yeah,” Apollo finishes lamely. If the dream’s going to work this hard to justify how out of place he is, then he might as well use whatever information he’s given. “Uh...just a question. Do you guys know if I’m working today?”

Viola tilts her head in sympathetic concern. “Yeah, that’s why you said you couldn’t do practice today. Um. Maybe you should take tomorrow off? You’ve been really out of it.”

Apollo dismisses her worry with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine. Just – uh. Could you drive me to work, Daryan?”

“Was planning on it. Seriously though, Viola’s right. You should get some sleep tonight.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Apollo replies, pulling open Daryan’s car door. He wonders if you can even get tired from a dream.

~

So. Apparently you can.

The stars that initially formed in his eyes at the thought of working for one of the legal world’s most prominent minds quickly burn out at the reality of working for one of the legal world’s most prominent minds. Tired is the most basic word he could use to describe how he feels after doing nothing but grab records and take meeting minutes for Prosecutor Edgeworth for hours on end.

“Please take these to Detective Gumshoe on the second floor. He’ll need to sign off on them before officially beginning his investigation.”

“Could you pull up your notes on the Stownmayson case from a week ago?”

“Mr. Gavin, I would hope you know by now that I only drink tea, thank you.”

When’s this dream gonna end?!

Apollo slumps against a wall, enjoying some respite at the end of a hard day’s work. He’ll get up and take the bus home or something, but for now, he’s gotta focus on not letting his legs collapse beneath him.

“Hiya!”

Apollo flails ungracefully, yelping and clutching his chest with a ragged breath. So much for taking a moment to rest.

A pair of green eyes and a friendly grin greet him. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that – force of habit. How ya doin’, Klavi? You look tired.”

“I – I am.” Who are you?

“Yeah, I bet. Mr. Edgeworth was running you into the ground today.” The girl lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I think it’s because he missed you.”

“If that’s true, I’m never taking another day off,” Apollo replies flatly. The girl laughs, patting his shoulder consolingly.

“Hey, that’s just his way of saying he appreciates you! Trust me, I know.” She winks at him before giving him a thumbs up. “Nice to see you’ve finally warmed up to me enough to make jokes, though. Or – that better be a joke because I already see you here too often. I’ve gotta head out for the day, but it was nice talking to you!”

The girl gives a crisp wave before walking away with a prance in her step, leaving Apollo unsure if they actually had a conversation or if he just hallucinated her into existence.

...he should probably be getting back either way.

He flicks through his phone during the bus ride home, peering through pictures and social media profiles. This Klavier Gavin guy seems like too much of a big shot to be a high school student: his Instagram has over 300 likes on every post, he’s verified on Twitter, and his band has a pretty substantial following, if the concert videos Apollo pulls up are any indication. For a garage band, at least.

Apollo opens the door to a dark and empty apartment. Now that he has more time to look around, he flicks the lights on to appreciate the uncrowded space.

Compared to the room he woke up in, the rest of the apartment is modernly decorated with crisp furniture and spotlessly clean countertops. It looks like a showroom, and the sense of store-bought perfection makes Apollo’s skin itch uncomfortably while he eats Chinese takeout leftovers from the fridge. It’s so at odds with his own home, which remains perpetually cluttered with someone’s newest hobby.

But Klavier’s room, he thinks as he swings open the bedroom door, is filled with life. Picture frames dot the top of every drawer and cabinet – some with Daryan and Viola, others with Klavier, what Apollo assumes are his parents, and a blonde man that looks startlingly similar to him.

One picture has a note written in neat, curly handwriting on the back.

‘Gavins at Themis orientation. Klavier’s all moved into Kristoph’s apartment!’

I can see the family resemblance, Apollo muses, turning the frame over in his hands. It’s charming to see so many cute photos scattered alongside books and music notes on every surface. Kinda sad that the rest of the apartment’s empty, though.

Apollo can feel the day’s fatigue catching up to him, and he yawns before settling into the still-too-soft bed. He pulls out his phone and taps a message onto the notes app.

‘My name’s Apollo, to answer your question. I live in Colorado, so LA is really weird to me. Everything’s so close by, and your school lunch is insanely expensive! I still can’t believe the high school/law school thing is real, so I’m pretty sure my subconscious is just pulling my leg about this whole thing.

Your friends are nice. I don’t think your band’s music is for me though – and everything on your Spotify playlist is terrible. And Prosecutor Edgeworth is pretty intimidating in real life. Which, I guess I’m not surprised by? But still, I’m impressed with everything you have to do at the Prosecutor’s Office. You work pretty hard.

And, sorry, I ate the leftovers in your fridge. You need to get some actual groceries to cook something. You live with your brother, right? Maybe ask him the next time you see him. He wasn’t home by the time I got back.

This has been a bizarre dream, but I wouldn’t mind having it again.’

Apollo gives a satisfied hum as he taps out the last few characters of his message before locking his phone and closing his eyes, falling into a deep and almost immediate sleep.

Chapter Text

Klavier pulls himself into a sitting position and squints at his phone to check the time. It’s forty minutes before his alarm goes off, so Kris should be able to drive him to class today.

He tries to recall the details of the previous night’s dream – it had been so lifelike when he was experiencing it, but now all he can remember is mountains and a…magic trick or something?

The notes app is open on his phone, with a bizarre message.

Apollo…?

Klavier dismisses it as a prank before pulling himself out of bed – probably left by Viola during practice while he wasn’t looking. It’s clever, honestly – leaving him a message from the god of music. He’ll have to think of something to return the favor.

But it is strange that his leftovers are gone when he doesn’t remember eating them.

Kristoph raises his eyebrows when he sees Klavier in the kitchen, fully dressed and chewing on a bagel.

“I see you woke up on time today.”

Klavier makes a questioning noise, swallowing his breakfast. “Hm? Did I not yesterday?”

Kristoph gives him an odd look before shaking his head. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Edgeworth to be more reasonable with your workload if you’re this confused. Please try not to embarrass yourself at work today,” he says with a mild grimace.

Klavier cringes. “Ja, bruder. I won’t.”

His phone pings with a text as he climbs into his brother’s BMW.

Dayumyan 💀💣

Thursday, 7:13 AM

is bitchtoph driving u today

ja, ty for asking

and cut him a break, he’s been stressed lately

:P

w/e

u gonna listen to oldies on the way or was that just a treat for me lol

??

oldies is still horrible, idc what your mom says <3

wait were you in on the prank with viola?

lmao what prank

gah, its late

driving, see u at school

Klavier stares at his phone, even more bewildered than before.

Oldies. Horrendous.

But low and behold, his Spotify history has songs from music groups Klavier’s only heard in Daryan’s mom’s car.

Odd. And the school day brings further confusion, with unfamiliar handwriting scrawled madly all over his notebooks and Viola poking Klavier’s side at lunch.

“Hey! Didn’t I tell you to stay home today? Are you feeling better?” Her eyes shine with genuine concern.

“I’m fine? Ach, I should be asking you if you’re feeling alright! Your prank was clever, I’ll give you that.”

Viola tilts her head in confusion. “What prank?”

“The one with – Apollo? The god of music leaving me a note?”

Viola shakes her head, mouth creasing in confusion. “Sorry, Klavier. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah…I must just be imagining things, then.” He drops the topic once both Daryan and Viola start looking uneasy. “Anyways. I have some new material for us to go over at practice, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I have my internship tonight,” Klavier says apologetically.

Daryan raises an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t work on Thursdays?”

“W – it’s Thursday?” Klavier whips out his phone to check and glares at the date. He hadn’t received any texts or calls from Herr Edgeworth, so he must’ve…made it to work yesterday, at least? The bell rings, cutting off Klavier’s train of thought.

Ach, I’ll investigate this later.

The remainder of the day passes in its usual blur, similar oddities piling up as Klavier continues through his classes. Whoever wrote in his notebook did so with great vigor: the pages are creased with the force of a pen, holding information he’d internalized years ago.

As though this person hasn’t even been to Themis!

That day’s (unexpected but wholly welcome) Gavinner’s practice provides a brief respite from the confusion of apparently missing all of yesterday – even if Viola keeps trying to convince him to listen to The Moodie Blues.

“You liked them yesterday! What happened?” she asks, dramatically placing a hand on her forehead.

“My mom’ll be so disappointed,” Daryan drawls. Klavier raises an eyebrow in faux disgust.

As soon as Klavier gets home, he sets off to search for clues about the previous day’s events.

Herr Edgeworth

Thursday, 6:30 PM

Hi Mr. Edgeworth! I was wondering if you had any notes on my performance yesterday?

Not that I can think of. You seemed a little off, are you feeling better today?

Your brother called me, and I assured him you’re doing an excellent job.

Oh.

Thank you! I was just wondering. Sorry for texting so late.

It’s no problem. Have a good night, Klavier.

Well, that’s one thing taken care of. He was at work, and apparently didn’t do a bad job, so…was Klavier just sick?

But – no, he feels fine today. And there’s no evidence that he was sick. In fact, the only thing that seems out of place is his pomade jar’s position on the bathroom counter.

What was different today? That odd dream…?

Wait.

He remembers…a small town? With an unfamiliar boy staring back at his reflection. The name Apollo carefully inscribed on the front cover of various school binders.

He whips out his phone, pulling up the ‘prank’ note from before.

Colorado has mountains, right?

A quick Google search confirms that yes, Colorado has mountains. Their snow peaks are far larger than the ones visible from Los Angeles, yet somehow ring a bell.

He reads the note again. And again. And again.

This Apollo and I…are we switching places?!

~

Apollo confirms it a few days later with a hastily scribbled message on Klavier’s arm.

‘Sorry, I can’t sing. And I might have blown out your mic trying. I’ll try to cancel band practice next time?’

Every few days, they’ll randomly wake up as each other and stumble their way through the other’s life, trying (and often failing) to create the least amount of chaos possible. Neither of them are sure what caused the switches to start – only that their dreams matched too well with the next day’s reality to be dismissed. After a few mutually disastrous switches, Klavier creates a list of do’s and don’ts for Apollo to follow:

DO:

• Practice singing! You have a good voice – I know because I’ve used it.
• Learn your way around the Prosecutor’s Office. I promise Herr Edgeworth is not that scary. And please be more professional with Fräulein Faraday – I think she influences a lot of Herr Edgeworth’s decisions, and I’m trying to get hired after I graduate.
• Leave a summary of your day on my phone so I’m not caught off guard.

DON’T:

• Antagonize Kristoph. He is just like that.
• Style my hair with the horns. And put on makeup if you can, please! It’s the one way to express myself outside of my school uniform.
• Keep talking with that weird country hick accent. Being German is part of my brand, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you. Use Google Translate if you have to.
• Skip or cancel band practice! You can look at my song lyrics online or on my desk if you need help.

Apollo comes up with his own list, handwritten and left on Klavier’s desk:

DO:

• Pay attention in class. I’m not a savant like you, I need to actually take notes? How are you surviving in your classes??
• Hang out with Trucy
• Hang out with Clay, Athena, and Juniper
• Style my hair properly, that’s part of MY brand
• Write a summary of your day, too

DON’T:

• Flirt with my classmates! It’s weird!!
• Touch the guitar in my room
• Sing in class? One of my teachers keeps asking me to join choir and I keep having to say no, it’s awkward
• Talk in German

Klavier stares drolly at the list, unimpressed. This Apollo guy is no fun. Stuffy, terrible taste in music, lives in the middle of nowhere…

Why couldn’t he have this experience with someone cool?

~

The first thing Apollo’s aware of after waking up from another switch is how sore his legs are. And how worn out he feels. And how the usual water bottle on his nightstand is empty.

He stretches with a wince, clumsily reaching for his phone. What did Klavier do?

‘Hallo, Apollo! I think this system we have is working nicely so far, don’t you agree? Yesterday was fine. You have a math test online due on Sunday night. I would help you prepare for it, but I am atrocious at math, so I’ll just be wishing you good luck. And hoping we don’t switch on Sunday.

Your friends and I went hiking yesterday. You seem a lot more fit than I am, thankfully, so we went for a few hours and made it to a small lake. It was beautiful – Jupiter (is that her name? I’m still trying to remember everyone) took pictures if you want them. But Trucy was upset that we didn’t invite her, so I assured her we’d go with her and your mother today. Have fun!

Also, you don’t have to answer this, but why do you have a guitar in your room if you don’t play?

Klavier’

“God, this guy…” Apollo mutters darkly. He knows there’s not much to do in Little Piney, but hiking twice in two days? It’s not like Klavier has to deal with the resulting aches and pains, with the way he just sits at a desk or in a studio all day!

Note to self: tell Klavier to take a hike. Apollo smirks at the pun. Nice one, Justice.

Ah. And Apollo will have to add something to the list of rules: don’t ask about the guitar.

~

‘Why’s everything in LA so expensive? I feel a chunk of my soul leaving me every time Viola and Daryan want to go out for lunch. Please stop going to these fancy cafes – I could pay for an entire week’s groceries at home with that money!

Not much to report. Work was fine. I think Mr. Edgeworth’s caseload is a little lighter this week because Kay dropped by again. I don’t know why you’re so uptight about her – she doesn’t really seem like the kind of person you can convince to like you, if that makes sense? But she already seems to like you (or like me at least, haha), so I think you’re alright with her giving you a recommendation to hire or whatever. She invited you out to dinner with her and her girlfriend next week.

Color me surprised that you’re actually German, though. I definitely thought you were faking it, no offense. Kristoph tried talking to me in German yesterday when he was home, and he got salty that I wouldn’t talk back in German. I would have fought, but you said not to antagonize him, so…but I do think he’s kind of a jerk.

Anyways. I’m rambling. I got off work early yesterday, so I cooked some pasta for lunch tomorrow. It’s in the fridge. You guys have gotta stop eating so much take out.

-AJ

P.S.: updated the rules. No letting Trucy paint my fingernails! I can live with toenails, but that’s where I draw the line.’

Klavier pouts. Both he and Trucy had agreed that the red looked lovely on Apollo’s fingers – it’s a shame that his sister’s good taste doesn’t run in the family. On his side, at least – Apollo’s mother seemed as delighted at the bonding experience as Klavier himself was. He can’t remember the last time he and Kristoph did something so fun together.

And no response about the guitar aside from the updated rule about it. A shame, but Klavier won’t pry.

~

Clay Terran

Friday, 8:10 AM

Hehehehe

?

Bro r u excited for our matching fits today

…our what

We’re gonna match for class!!!

[image.0]

If u bail on me, im gonna be angery ;((((((

Get athena to beat u up

She got suspenders that shes gonna wear too! :D

And junie’s gonna wear the baseball cap

Wait. I got that same shirt yesterday??

Lol did trucy magic ur clothes away again

Listen

Tell her u promised me

She’ll give em back

And if u show up to class in normal clothes!

On our fun friday!!

You’ll make junie sad

And then i’ll be forced to beat u up <33333

It’s then that Apollo notices the stack of shopping bags in the corner of his bedroom with a post-it note tacked on top.

‘We went shopping a town over, and I told Clay you’d wear the black and white shirt to school today :) Nothing else to report, but make sure you take a picture and text it to me! I figure we’re close enough to exchange numbers now, ja? xxx-xxx-xxxx

Klavier’

Sure enough, there’s (in Apollo’s humble opinion) a grotesque striped shirt in one of the bags. He cringes before pulling it on and taking a photo.

Klavier Gavin

Friday, 8:16 AM

[image.0]

I hope you’re happy with how ridiculous I look.

apollo!

i think it’s a vast improvement from your usual style <3

really shows off your forehead ;)

>:(

herr forehead ;)

Tf kinda nickname is that??

Next time we switch I’m gonna make you look like a potato

:(

Despite all of Apollo’s best efforts, it’s impossible to make Klavier look even close to a potato.

~

Klavier’s starting to realize that Forehead might be a little cooler than he initially seemed. Just a little. Most of the time he exists in that slightly flustered and overcompensating state that most sixteen-year-olds seem to occupy.

But sometimes he’ll leave Klavier charming little notes on brightly colored post-its that seem right at home in his room’s already cluttered space.

‘Kay had some last-minute notes on the Archer case, just wanted to let you know I already added them to the shared drive so you don’t have to worry about em.’

‘Thanks for hanging out with Trucy for so long yesterday, my mom was really happy about it’

‘Good job on your international relations exam! Saw you got a 96’

‘I think you’re signed up for too many hours at work, take a sick day before more crime happens and you guys get busy again’

The post-it notes are always separate from Apollo’s daily summaries and intermittent texts, which tend to be a mixed bag of professional and blasé. It’s almost like they’re hidden, peeking out from beneath a loose-leaf paper on his desk or haphazardly stuck on the edge of his mirror.

Klavier tries his best to collect them – little pieces of evidence that Apollo may be more charming than he seems. Or more cute, at the very least.

Ah well. It’ll be up to him to get Forehead’s wonderful classmates to see that, ja?

~

Apollo frowns at yet another secret admirer letter propped on his desk. He hastily stuffs the cream envelope in his backpack before anyone else can see. It’s the third one this month.

I swear, I’m gonna draw a bunch of dicks on Klavier’s face if he keeps flirting when we swap.

He opens to yesterday’s barely touched page of notes, scrawling a hasty message. ‘Stop flirting with people in my class and start taking notes on my lectures!!!’

Apollo can see Clay’s smug grin from a mile away.

“You gonna read this one?” Clay asks.

“You gonna shut up?” Apollo grumbles.

~

Herr Forehead

Thursday, 9:23 PM

forehead

i’m glad you’re starting to appreciate my band and take a more active role in practices

but you’re infecting viola with your terrible taste and now she wants to make country rock nonsense :/

[video.mp4]

this is the tune she had for our next song

i will be pressing charges against you

Hey, it’s better than Daryan’s screamo grunge right :P

achtung, it’s equal but on opposite sides of the spectrum

and you keep negatively influencing my band when you refuse to send me recordings of you singing!!

some nerve you have >:(

Y’know, no matter how many times you ask for it

I’m not gonna send you a video of me singing

That’s weird

what do u mean that’s weird?

i’m the lead singer in a band?? that’s most of what i do??

herr forehead what r u implying :(((

…I mean, I didn’t say it, you said it

why r u so mean to me :’(

one day forehead

you’ll see the light and love singing

and have better taste

If that’s your definition of taste

You gotta get your tastebuds checked

…or something like that. I promise that pun works in real life

haha

whatever u say :)

Btw are you feeling better today?

I know Kristoph’s been giving you a hard time lately

But I promise you’re doing great

Sorry, I’m not good at being reassuring

But I think you’re already putting enough pressure on yourself

So like

Don’t worry about him putting his own expectations on you

You have a good thing going

haha i appreciate the sentiment forehead

and your worry

but i promise, it’s nothing i haven’t dealt with before

he gets like this, i know he just wants what’s best for me

But that’s the thing though

Like

You’re not him

You don’t need to do things how he did/does them

And aren’t you already set on the prosecutor course?

Why does he keep annoying you about it?

well, i can still technically switch into the defense program because it’s only my last two semesters and whatever externship i get into that’ll focus on prosecution

that’s part of why they have us do internships in the fall, so we can get more of a final sense of how we want to practice

the rest of it has just been general law courses

seriously, i appreciate the concern

but i promise it’s fine

and the fact that you noticed means you’re better at being reassuring than you think :)

If you say so

I mean, I wanna be a lawyer too

But no one expects me to have everything figured out

I feel like he should maybe lay off a little

forehead, really it’s fine

i don’t want you to worry too much about me, it’ll give you wrinkles haha

ach, but it’s late for you isn’t it

i don’t want to keep you up

goodnight!

Oh

Um, thanks?

Goodnight, sleep well

Klavier sighs, rolling over in bed. Sometimes, Apollo is a little too perceptive for his own good. And he’s fine, really. Kristoph throwing a fit here and there isn’t anything new. Klavier will deal with his brother’s expectations when he’s ready.

But…it is nice to have someone notice. Even if it’s because that someone lives in his body sometimes.

Wouldn’t it be nice, he wonders, to see my Herr Forehead in person?

~

‘I’ll find you at the icy blue lake

Stars like fire that you could take

I could hold you close, keep you safe’

Apollo smiles, affectionately rolling his eyes at the lyrics written on his forearm before he pulls out a pen to write something of his own.

‘If your lyrics don’t have something about lakeside mosquito bites, they aren’t accurate’

~

Ah. Well. That wasn’t as effective as Klavier had hoped.

~

‘Your sister is so cute! Your mother spent the day showing us a hat trick, and Trucy picked it up so fast that she ended up trying to teach me. I’m afraid I’m not as good at sleight of hand as your family, but I’ll be cheering in the sidelines for them nevertheless! I offered to do a magic show with her in thanks, so have that to look forward to today. And your teacher said you have a test on The Great Gatsby on Monday. You better hope we switch that day because I wrote a five page paper on color theory for that book and can ace it for you.

Also if you keep doing my hair like this I’m going to give you a mohawk. This is your last warning, Forehead. Just because you subject yourself to terrible style doesn’t mean we all have to!

Klavier’

Apollo scoffs fondly before putting the final touches on his usual hairstyle. Klavier can be such a diva. And his closet looks like a Zumiez rip off, so he can’t even talk!

And. Well. Making Klavier look a little less perfect than usual feels like a win. If only so he doesn’t blush like a ridiculous schoolgirl every time he walks by a mirror when they switch.

“Polly! We have to do a costume fitting when you come home from school!” Trucy calls out, bouncing excitedly outside Apollo’s bedroom doorway.

He sighs.

~

“Ja...ja...gut, Mama. Liebe dich auch. Sag Vati, dass ich hallo gesagt habe. Wiedersehen.” Klavier hangs up the phone with a slow exhale. His mother tended to cycle through the same conversation points every time she called:

1)     Focus your energy on school, that’s why you went to America.

2)     Please don’t spend too much time on your ‘music group.’ Why not go back to the piano? Guitar is so brash.

3)     Kristoph is just busy, so please be patient with him when he gets upset. It’s all part of growing up with a brother.

And it’s not like Klavier doesn’t understand his mother’s concerns – Kristoph was the one who set the expectations for success, so it’s only natural that she would want him to follow as such. But he can’t deny that it gets tiring.

Herr Forehead

Saturday, 5:33PM

be warned, forehead

my mother can sometimes be…aggressive with her calls

so if she calls you while we’re switched

don’t take it personally, just nod along and let her tire herself out

Oof

Okay I’ll keep that in mind

Is she like Kristoph

Bc if so

:/

har har

nein, she’s much nicer when presenting her grievances

she just has a lot of expectations for me, and that’s fine

Hopefully not as passive aggressive as Kristoph?

lol, no

she just gets sad :(

That’s somehow worse?

ach, i know right

but either way, i just wanted to let you know

she’s not as easygoing as your mom

Hm

Yeah my mom’s easygoing, but like

Sometimes I wish she had a little more of a stake in what I do, y’know?

She’s always like ‘you can do whatever you like!’

i can see why that could be frustrating

but they’ll love and support you no matter what

you know that right?

Yeah

But anyways

I’ll be on the lookout for your mom

Haha

So, speaking of family

Apollo’s text bubble disappears and reappears several times, and Klavier crinkles an eyebrow in concern. He sits at attention, impatiently waiting for Apollo to make up his mind.

In a few days, there’s like an anniversary coming up?

Hopefully we won’t swap on the day of but like

It’s on Monday

And we usually do something as a family on that day, so don’t worry about going to school

ooh, what for?

Don’t worry about it

Again I hope we won’t swap

But just so you’re aware

He’s avoiding the question, and Klavier knows better than to prod at Apollo’s boundaries. He shrugs – guess I’ll find out if we switch that day.

Chapter Text

Apollo lays in bed, too wound up and simultaneously exhausted to work on homework or focus on anything else. His teachers won’t mind if he turns in his assignments late, he knows that. They’ll give him a sad and sympathetic smile, maybe a pat on the back, finishing with some well-intentioned but misplaced comments about whatever new insight they’ve gained on grief or loss or whatever. And then he’ll smile thinly, thank them for the well-wishes, and go on with his day just like any other day. It’ll go exactly how he expects because the same thing happens every year.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of his dad’s death. And his family will follow the same routine they always do – they’ll wake up, hike up to his dad’s grave, and then come home. Mom and Trucy will sit in the living room to listen to his music, and Apollo will sit in his room wearing earplugs, impatiently waiting for it to end. He’ll ignore the sad look on his mother’s face, ignore Trucy’s questions, ignore anything that won’t serve to make the day’s performance go by faster.

There’s always been a certain morbid comfort in knowing what’s to come. Or at least there was, before he and Klavier started switching.

I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him, Apollo thinks, shoving his face further into his pillow. What’s he gonna think of me now?

Ever since it happened, Apollo’s used every trick in the book to ignore it. Everyone in town already knew, and after his friends had picked some well-intentioned fights that ended in tears, they knew better than to press Apollo. But it wasn’t hard to see the pained crease between Clay’s eyebrows, or the way Junie would ‘accidentally’ bring an extra snack from home on the day after. Athena seemed more frustrated than sympathetic, which was understandable – it was basically her mom’s whole job, and her future job, to figure out people and their problems.

But that was the thing – Apollo didn’t want anyone figuring out his problems. Because it wasn’t any of their business. His dad died, and his mom and sister made a show of grieving him every year because maybe it made them feel better, but it never made him feel better, so why bother? 

They weren’t even here for most of the time he was alive, so what are they grieving for?

…

Ugh. He’s thinking himself in circles again.

I guess it’s better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, he thinks. Or however the saying goes. He’ll tell Klavier after it passes. There’s still a fleeting chance that they won’t switch tomorrow, so maybe he won’t have to do anything after all. But he doubts it, with his terrible luck.

Glow in the dark stars hover in and out of his vision as he drifts through a restless sleep, before finally exhausting himself against rumpled sheets and a weighted mind.

~

For the first time in a while, Klavier doesn’t wake to the sound of an alarm. The sun already lies high in the sky as he blinks awake, now familiar with the feeling of Apollo’s lumpy mattress. Birds trill and accentuate the picturesque scenery of Little Piney.

Klavier stretches and enjoys the easy atmosphere before the adrenaline of waking up late hits him with a jolt. He grabs his phone to check the time and quietly curses. Apollo will kill him if he’s late to class.

He’s about to jump out of bed and hurry through his morning routine when a note on the door catches his eye to stop him dead in his tracks.

‘Don’t worry about school today. Wear something comfortable for hiking.

-AJ’

Just as Klavier’s fingers brush against the post-it to examine it closer, the door swings open to reveal Trucy Wright with her hands clasped expectantly.

“Morning, Polly!” The girl’s usual happy demeanor seems forced, the corner of her eyes creased with the unpleasant tilt of her smile. “Didja just wake up?”

“Ah…yes.” Klavier tilts his head curiously, brow furrowing in concern. She seems so unlike her regular annoying-little-sister self, with her usual endearing antics replaced with a too-grown-up politeness.

“Okay, well you gotta get ready soon! Mommy says we’re leaving in 30 minutes!” Her smile stretches uncomfortably before she gently closes the door. Klavier can’t hear her usual tromp down the stairs.

Klavier blinks, squinting at the post-it note, before recalling his odd text conversation with Apollo a few days ago.

Ah. This must be the anniversary Apollo was talking about.

He pulls on something loose and comfortable, wracking his brain for any clue on what they might be doing today, and why Apollo wouldn’t tell him about it. For as long as they’ve been switching, Apollo has kept most things to himself. And that’s fine – it’s not like they owe each other anything.

But, he thinks with an inward sigh, I wish he trusted me a little more.

He steps into the kitchen, where Thalassa – it feels too unfamiliar to call Apollo’s mom something else – and Trucy sit, waiting patiently. They both carry flowers: a homely bouquet for Thalassa, and a handful of daisies for Trucy. Thalassa gives Klavier a thin smile before rising to her feet, silently gesturing him forward. As he watches their backs as they retreat, it clicks.

Thalassa carrying a bouquet of flowers. Trucy not being as energetic as usual, sticking to her mother’s side like glue. How it’s a Monday, but no one plans to be anywhere else.

And how there are usually two parents in a family.

Klavier had noticed and wondered earlier, of course. But he knew better than to ask about the whereabouts of Apollo’s dad. He figured – because no one had mentioned him – that he must’ve run out on them or something. It was sad, definitely, but Apollo and the rest of his family never seemed weighed down by the empty space, so Klavier figured that whoever he was, they were probably better off without him anyways.

But now, his heart pangs with sympathy and guilt at the thought.

The trail they walk along is unfamiliar – a soft breeze whistles through the trees, gently tousling his hair. Trucy has fallen behind her mother, stalwartly looking forward instead of swinging her head around as she usually would. Klavier reaches out to take her hand – she startles slightly before her flat expression breaks with a small and relieved smile. She squeezes Klavier’s hand reassuringly before returning her gaze forward.

I wonder how Apollo usually feels on this trail.

…

Could I even ask him?

The hike can’t be longer than thirty minutes, but it feels like hours pass as they wade through the trees to reach a small clearing. In its center, surrounded by uncut grass and craggy rock, stands a gravestone marked with tiny cracks and aged with dull gray.

Jove Justice

1985 – 2014

Beloved Musician, Father, & Husband

Thalassa brushes the ground with a delicate hand, taking a seat on the slightly damp grass. Trucy follows suit, clambering to her mother’s side and tightly gripping her knees. Klavier can’t help but feel he’s intruding as he gingerly crouches.

“Hello, love.” Thalassa’s usually melodious voice is soft enough to lose to the breeze but rings true to Klavier’s ears anyways. “It’s been a while. I’ve missed you.”

She loses herself to stories of the past year – about Apollo and Trucy, about the goings-on in their quiet little town. Trucy chimes in, with talks of her friends and lessons, about how someone named Uncle Valant came by some time ago to teach her some new magic tricks.

Neither Thalassa nor Trucy seem to expect Klavier to say anything – does Apollo usually not say something?

His heart aches – both for the man he never knew and the boy he desperately wishes to know more of. Because Klavier understands; they’ve blundered into each other’s lives. They have no obligation to each other, other than to endure and wait for this strange phenomenon to end.

But that can’t stop him from wishing for a connection beyond petty texts and endearing notes. He wants to show Apollo that he’s someone he can trust and rely on.

As they walk back to the house, Klavier spins the question in his head, over and over: why wouldn’t he tell me?

The door swings open and Trucy clambers onto the couch. Thalassa fiddles with the stereo system, relaxing as some unfamiliar folk tune begins to play.

‘One more cup of coffee for the road

One more cup of coffee before I go

To the valley below’

Klavier takes a seat on the couch and settles next to Trucy, whose eyebrows raise in a slightly stunned gesture.

“You’re gonna sit with us, Polly?”

Klavier furrows his brow in confusion. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I?” He turns to look at Thalassa’s similarly mystified expression before it shifts into one of comforting gratitude. He blinks.

Apollo must not do this either, then.

He feels Trucy rest against his side, affectionately dropping her head onto his shoulder, as Thalassa takes a seat on the opposite armchair. Her eyes slip closed to the sound of a twang and guitar – Klavier can tell, from the tombstone and general occasion, that it must be Jove’s music.

It doesn’t make sense for Apollo to distance himself from his family. Out of all the things that Klavier’s learned from this experience, Apollo’s performative reluctance towards the people he cares about is just that – a performance. If he didn’t care, Trucy wouldn’t be able to commandeer him for every passing fancy she has. If he wanted to distance himself, he wouldn’t humor his friends by wearing ridiculous outfits. If he felt disconnected, he wouldn’t leave Klavier barely hidden notes of encouragement.

So what’s different? Why would his dad be different?

Klavier, still somewhat uncomfortable in the setting, watches Thalassa’s eyes trail across the mantle. There’s a picture sitting atop it, half tucked behind the others, that catches Klavier’s eye. A young boy, grinning broadly with a familiar cowlick, sits next to a man that Klavier has never seen, but looks startlingly familiar nonetheless. The man holds a guitar in his lap, smiling at his son beside him as his fingers trail across the guitar Klavier has seen untouched in Apollo’s room.

Maybe Apollo is distancing himself from his family, but not for the cynical reasons that spring to mind. Maybe Klavier can’t completely understand because he’s thankfully never had to experience that level of grief. Maybe this piece of Apollo’s past is something he shouldn’t touch.

But it feels wrong, to pretend as though it never happened, as though Jove never existed to Klavier. Because he exists here – in this fragile moment, carried on the air with a southern drawl shared between a family he’s almost a part of. He exists with every rhyme and beat of his –

Music.

Klavier carefully readjusts Trucy, who’s fallen asleep next to him, to lay down. He ignores Thalassa’s curious gaze and takes the steps two at a time to Apollo’s room. His heart sings with the possibility that maybe, maybe he can tell Apollo what he hopes to understand.

Through music.

Jove’s guitar sits innocuously in the corner. It’s definitely the same one as in the picture on the mantle -- despite its disuse, it’s clean of lint and dustmotes, just like the rest of Apollo’s tidy room. Klavier grips the neck with a steady hand and pulls it into his lap.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar strings still hum pleasantly at Klavier’s touch. Maybe he can’t write a whole song, but…a verse, maybe? Just some kind of evidence that he was here, on this day, and that Apollo doesn’t have to go through it alone.

The words flow easily, hummed under Klavier’s breath with each half-pluck of the guitar’s strings. It’s barely a poem, honestly – but it’ll be enough, for now.

He leaves a note on Apollo’s bed with the verse and a more detailed message on Apollo’s phone. It feels like a crossroads – either Apollo will appreciate the gesture, and maybe let himself feel whatever he’s feeling, or he’ll never speak to Klavier again. It’s a gamble, of course, but one that Klavier feels compelled to take anyways.

After carefully placing the guitar on Apollo’s bed, he quietly steps back downstairs and reclaims his seat on the couch, carefully replacing Trucy’s head onto his shoulder.

He clears his throat to get Thalassa’s attention. “Mom,” the word still sounds so foreign on his tongue, “would you…tell me about Jo – Dad?”

Thalassa stares at Klavier, concerned and confused all in the same moment. She reaches a hand out as though to brush some errant strands of hair from his face before carefully returning it to her lap with a pained and sympathetic smile.

“Oh, Apollo…you’re dreaming, aren’t you?”

Suddenly, Klavier startles awake, sweating and heart racing, torn out of a dream and thrust back into bed. He gasps for air, quickly checking his tanned hands to confirm that yes, he’s back in his own body.

He breathes to take a moment to collect himself, clenching a fist to scrub the conspicuous wetness out of his eyes.

What was he dreaming about, that he’d wake up crying?

~

The folded-up paper sitting on top of his dad’s guitar contains errant notes and chords scribbled alongside lyrics. Apollo could recognize Klavier’s neat scrawl from a mile away. He pulls the message on his phone up once more.

‘We listened to your dad’s music yesterday, and I wanted to try and get to know him – and you – better. You don’t have to talk about him with me, but I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you do. And that I hope it gets easier, eventually.

Klavier’

Apollo’s arm stiffens with the urge to hurl his phone across the room, acrid bitterness rising in the back of his throat. Of all the things Apollo expected – for Klavier to ignore it, for him to give some awkward well-wishes, something perfectly inane – he decided to write a song? With Jove’s guitar, of all things?

He taps his phone’s keyboard, agitatedly typing before backspacing and starting anew. His phone’s cursor blinks at him tauntingly, and Apollo’s skin starts to itch. No matter if he thought Klavier could understand and leave well enough alone. Of course he’d have more of the misplaced sentiment that Apollo’s known since his dad died. Of course he would want to help in the most disrespectful way possible. Of course he would, because that’s what everyone did -- just gave empty gestures to make them feel like they did something good.

He scoffs and dials Klavier’s number before overthinking it. This is fine. He’ll just tell him to lay off and leave him alone. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Good morning, Forehead -- sorry, I just woke up. How are you --”

“I told you not to touch the guitar.”

“Huh? Ach, I’m sorry, but I thought that --”

“You thought what? That I’d suddenly open up to you because you wrote a little song and touched my dad’s stuff?” he snarls. “I know you’re a musician or whatever, but that doesn’t give you the right to disrespect him.”

“I’m – sorry?” Klavier’s apology sounds more like a question, clearly caught off guard. “I meant no disrespect--”

“Then what did you mean to do, huh?” It feels like something bursts in Apollo’s chest -- raw hurt that’s been kept dormant for too long to come out as anything other than an explosive force. “I’m not a kid, alright? I don’t need your pity, or kindness, or whatever, because I’ve been just fine since he died and I’m certainly doing just fine now!” he shouts.

It’s only as he abruptly hangs up his phone and throws it as far as he can that he realizes how loud he was, and how terrifyingly quiet his room is in the wake of his anger. He shakes, fists clenching and unclenching as he pants with unexpected exhaustion. A timid knock sounds against his door before it slowly creaks open.

“...Polly?” Trucy whispers, eyes wide with apprehension. “Are you okay?”

“Trucy! Ah --” He didn’t mean to scare her. “Sorry, I was just...mad. At a friend.” He takes a deep, grounding breath and turns to face her with a too-wide smile. “What’s up?”

She frowns. “You’re not still going to school today, are you?”

Apollo’s mouth twitches. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She squints, eyes far too knowing for a nine-year-old. “Okay, well, I’m staying home today,” she declares. “And Mommy says that means you should stay home too.” She glares at him defiantly.

He narrows his eyes. He loves Trucy -- really, he does -- but she can be such a brat sometimes.

“Fine. That’s fine.” He gives a thin smile and makes a show of laying back down in bed. “I’ll be here, then.”

“Good! Then you can call your friend and say you’re sorry,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Leave it alone, Trucy,” he warns.

She holds her hands up in defeat, a playful and entirely fake smile stretching her cheeks as she closes his bedroom door behind her. He groans, flopping back onto his bed to try and get comfortable.

He opens up his text conversation with Klavier: no new messages. As vindicated as he feels right now, he knows guilt will worm its way into his gut sooner or later.

Whatever, Apollo thinks as he aggressively fluffs his pillow. Maybe this’ll teach him to mind his own business.

~

“Klavier? Oi, you with us?” Daryan snaps in front of Klavier’s vacant eyes, startling him. “Oh, good. You’re still alive through all the dramatics.”

“Stop, Daryan,” Klavier says, slapping his hand away. “Ach, can you just leave me alone for once?”

He shakes his head and raises an eyebrow, pompadour bobbing slightly. “No can do. What’s up with you today?”

“It’s nothing.” Sure, Klavier might be acting a little out of sorts, but he thinks it’s reasonable considering how poorly his attempt to connect with Apollo went.

Viola lightly shoves him. “It’s definitely not nothing. Come on, you can talk to us!”

He squeezes out a sigh and drops his head onto their lunch table. “I made a mistake.”

Daryan and Viola exchange a look above Klavier’s head.

“Is this about the person you’re dating that you won’t tell us you’re dating?” Daryan asks point-blank.

“W-was? I’m not dating anyone.” Klavier scoffs.

Viola rolls her eyes. “Oh, sure, that’s why you keep giggling at your phone like a kid whenever you get a text. We’ll skip the whole part where we’re mad at you for not telling us,” she says, grinning crookedly.

Klavier groans. “I’m serious, we’re not dating. We’re just…”

Switching bodies every few days? Living each other’s lives?

“...pen pals?”

Daryan gives Klavier a disbelieving look before shrugging. “Sure, I’ll take that.”

Viola in comparison, holds her incredulity back. “Okay, so what’d you do to your ‘pen pal’? We won’t judge you or anything,” she says, ruffling Klavier’s hair.

“...well. I touched something of his I shouldn’t have.”

“Sounds like you,” Daryan says with no heat.

Klavier scowls. “And I...may have written him a somewhat tone deaf song, about someone he hadn’t told me about. And now he probably thinks I’m an insensitive jerk.” He sighs, accentuating the end of his woes with the thump of his head hitting the table. “I don’t want to get too far into it, for his privacy, but it was...callous of me.”

Viola nods along sympathetically as Daryan tilts back in his chair, aloof but still listening.

“I just wanted to show some compassion and get to know him better. But he won’t let me understand him, even after knowing each other for months. I suppose I just feel...well, I thought we were friends. And that he’d trust me more with himself, at this point.” He lets out a frustrated sigh.

Daryan hums thoughtfully, his unbalanced chair hitting the ground with a clack as his feet rest on the ground. “Well, hate to break it to you Klavier, but it kinda sounds like you deserved it.”

“Daryan!” Viola hisses.

“What? He’s a big boy, he can take it,” he replies with a frown. “Look, I get that you’re upset, man. Really, I do. But you kinda…” He grimaces. “Sometimes I feel like you forget that you’re not the only one with things you keep close to the chest, y’know?

“Like, look. Remember how long it took for you to tell me about how much of a jerk Kristoph was? And how he keeps putting pressure on you to go straight to practicing defense law instead of going to college? Have you told this guy any of that?”

Klavier ponders it for a moment before realizing he hasn’t. He’d hinted at it, sure, but never enough for Apollo to know outright.

“I’m not saying that you have to tell him. ‘M just saying that it’s not easy to open up about that sort of stuff, even with people you care about. And you can’t immediately understand how people feel, or know what the right thing to do is, or be able to make things better. You can’t force it. You just...have to wait for the person to come to terms with whatever they’re dealing with on their own, and trust that they’ll come to you when they do.” Daryan shrugs apologetically.

Viola frowns and clicks her tongue. “Ugh. Daryan is the worst with words --”

“Hey.”

“--but he’s kinda right. Maybe you should just give him a little space for now.”

Klavier glances away, still frustrated but feeling a little less despondent. He doesn’t have to like the circumstances, but he supposes he can abide by them.

That night, after a sufficiently distracting day of working at the Prosecutor’s Office, Klavier sends Apollo a suitably apologetic text.

Herr Forehead

Tuesday, 8:35PM

I’m sorry for the song. And for touching your father’s guitar. I wanted to show you that I could be there for you, but I didn’t think enough about why you wouldn’t tell me about him. It was callous of me to think that understanding what you’ve been through would be so easy. But I stand by what I said: I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about him or anything else.

The message is left on read, and Klavier rolls into a fitful sleep, awakened the next morning by his own alarm clock, in his own bed. He checks his phone -- no message from Apollo. No acknowledgement, no apology, no nothing. Klavier’s worry sits, heavy and uncomfortable, at the back of his mind for the entire day before another sleepless night, where it slowly but surely begins to melt into anger.

He glares at his phone -- up to this point, he and Apollo had texted each other every day about whatever inanity they could think of, and it had been nice. It was something Klavier looked forward to, because he thought they were friends. Even if Klavier was usually the first one to reach out, Apollo always responded, or at least gave a reason if he didn’t.

And he had gone through all this trouble -- trying again and again to be there for Apollo, even outside of Jove, only to be met with frigidity and distance.

What does Apollo even have to be afraid of? Klavier thinks, letting out a derisive huff. It’s not like he doesn’t have a good support network. Why would he keep pushing away from everyone when he has such loving people in his life?

No one expects Apollo to be anything but himself, and he can’t even give them that.

Envy burns hot in Klavier’s fingers as he taps out an impatient message before immediately deleting it and locking his phone.

It isn’t fair.

~

Apollo wakes to the sound of Klavier’s now-familiar alarm with a groan. It’s been a little over half a week since he yelled at Klavier, or even spoke to him. And it’s not like he doesn’t feel bad! Even if Klavier might have been rude about it, he was probably just trying to be nice in the only way he knew how.

But Apollo doesn’t need or want his sympathy, so that’s that.

He rolls out of bed, settling into Klavier’s usual morning routine, wondering what he has scheduled for today. He flips out his phone to check -- classes as usual, then band practice, then back home with time to power through homework.

It’s exhausting how busy Klavier keeps himself, Apollo thinks with a yawn. Who’s he even doing it for?

Honestly, Apollo is exhausted enough by the awkwardness between him and Klavier that he barely takes note of the day’s events, scribbling down some details for a test review that he knows Klavier doesn’t actually need. Apparently, Daryan is perceptive enough to notice Apollo’s low energy and ask about it.

“Are you still hung up on that guy?”

“Huh? What guy?” Apollo questions, pulling out his own lunch of whatever leftovers were in Klavier’s fridge. “There’s a guy?”

“Y’know, your ‘pen pal.’” Daryan swallows another bite of his sandwich before putting it down. “He still hasn’t talked to you yet?”

Is he talking about...me?

“...no.” Apollo feels oddly unsettled at the idea that Klavier could still be upset. “But, it’s fine, right? Like, I’ve got you guys too, so…”

Daryan’s brows bump together in a scowl. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That. Stop worrying about everyone else all the time. Look,” he continues, dropping an assertive palm on the table, “if this guy can’t pull his head out of his ass enough to realize that you made an honest mistake, and that you were genuinely trying your best to empathize with him, then screw him.”

Apollo draws back a bit in surprise, eyebrows cresting up his forehead. “Hey, that’s kinda harsh, isn’t --”

“No. I’m telling you, you might like him, but this guy is clearly taking you for granted,” Daryan replies, jabbing into his pudding cup with more force than necessary. “It’s not cool of him to just keep you on edge like this. Like, yeah, you messed up, but you owned that you messed up. What more does he want from you?”

Apollo swallows and feels the beginning of a frown pull at his lips. “I don’t know! Just not to expect that he -- I mean, I can automatically make things better?”

“Look, Klav, you weren’t trying to make things better. You were just trying to support him, and if he can’t see that, then maybe you’re better off finding someone that’s not gonna isolate himself.” Daryan sighs, apparently done with ranting. “I’m just...worried about you, man.” He looks physically pained, admitting such a genuine sentiment.

Apollo can’t help the bitter smirk that mars his face. “What could you possibly have to worry about with me? I’m set! I’m good! I’ve got a job, and both parents, going to school at a fancy academy where I can go anywhere in the world when I graduate. I’m charming, and connect with people easily, and I’m fine! What could possibly be wrong with me?”

It’s not fair, what Apollo’s saying, he knows that. But maybe now he gets why he’s still so mad -- because out of everything that Klavier has, out of all his obligations, he’s decided to waste time worrying about Apollo when Apollo doesn’t want or need it.

Daryan blinks, eyes wide, suspicion twisting his mouth into a tight frown.

“...who are you?”

Apollo halts his mental tirade for a moment, mouth hanging open in apprehension. “...huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s just -- never mind.” Daryan picks his backpack up and swiftly rises to his feet. “I’ve got some studying to do. Let’s cancel practice tonight, alright? Get some rest.” He doesn’t wait for Apollo’s response before striding away, hands deep in his pockets, making a conscious effort to not look back at Apollo’s confusion.

Apollo’s shoulders slump as he crosses his arms defiantly.

What was that all about?

Viola is absent for the day, and Daryan won’t answer his phone, so Apollo decides to just take the bus home. He stares listlessly out the window, mind turning uncomfortably with Daryan’s earlier words.

“Maybe you’re better off finding someone that’s not gonna isolate himself.”

Apollo scoffs. He’s not isolating himself. He has friends and a family that loves him, and he might not have a dad anymore but that doesn’t mean that he has to talk about how he doesn’t have a dad anymore. No one’s going to completely get how he feels, so why do they keep trying?

He bites his lip to try and ground himself. Stupid. You’re fine.

But he pauses nonetheless. Maybe...Klavier would be better off not trying to be friends with Apollo. He has friends and other people that care about him. So why would he try so hard to connect with him? Just some random guy that started switching places with him once in a while?

He doesn’t have anything to gain from trying -- in fact, it would have been easier if Klavier had just ignored it in the first place. And it’s not like he and Apollo are obligated to connect with each other.

But...he can’t deny the smile that comes every time his phone dings with a text from Klavier. Or the way he’s missed talking to him, the past few days.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe Klavier could just like my company and want to be there for me.

The thought jabs against the pessimistic part of his brain as he unlocks the door to Klavier’s apartment, surprised to see Kristoph sitting at the kitchen table strewn with paperwork and a laptop.

“Oh -- you’re home early.”

“Guten abend, bruder. Today’s trial wrapped up earlier than I expected, so I had a bit of time,” Kristoph replies, distractedly tapping at his laptop’s keyboard. “No work today?”

“N-no. We were going to have band practice, but it got canceled.”

“Probably for the best. You have an exam coming up, yes?”

“...yes?”

“This will give you more time to study, then.” Apollo resists the urge to roll his eyes -- in their entire time of switching, Klavier has never had any issues with his exams, despite Kristoph’s perpetual comments about them. “There’s pasta in the fridge, whenever you’re hungry.” Kristoph’s silent dismissal hangs in the air, and Apollo retreats to Klavier’s room.

He drops his backpack on the floor with a sigh before opening his text conversation with Klavier. His unacknowledged message stares back at him accusingly, and he frowns, ignoring it in favor of working through whatever assignments Klavier hasn’t already finished.

After a few hours of busy work and a low-effort microwaved meal later, Apollo does feel pretty bad. And he does miss Klavier, he guesses.

Maybe I should just...call him?

Before he can stop himself, Apollo dials the number, gritting his teeth as the phone rings.

“...hello?” It feels strange to hear his own voice over the line, but Apollo presses forward.

“Hey. Uh. I wanted to apologize about, um. Calling you and yelling at you on Tuesday.” Apollo cringes.

“Oh.” Klavier sounds oddly clipped and distant.

“You were just trying to be nice, and I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

There’s silence over the line, and Apollo fidgets.

“...thank you for apologizing. But I did mean it, ja?”

Apollo exhales the instinctual irritation out. “Look, I appreciate the gesture but I’m fine. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.”

“I’m not ‘concerning’ myself with you. I do genuinely care about you.” Klavier replies petulantly. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I mean, yeah.” For some reason, the sentiment makes Apollo blush. “But like, my friends don’t ask me about it because I don’t want them to ask me about it, so you don’t have to pretend to get it or anything.”

“It’s not an issue of me pretending!” Klavier retorts, clearly frustrated. Apollo startles at the volume. “Do you think I have an objective for this, instead of just wanting to be there for you?”

He stiffens. It’s like Klavier read his mind.

“Look,” Klavier huffs. “It’s fine if you don’t want to reach out. That’s your choice, and I can’t force you to open up to me. But...it really hurt when you just stopped talking to me.”

Apollo swallows, some unclear emotion pushing against his throat. “...I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Are we alright now?” Klavier sounds wrung out. Apollo’s chest aches with guilt.

“Y-yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Gute nacht, Apollo.”

“Good night.” The line gently clicks off, and Apollo falls backward onto his bed.

Well, that...didn’t go as expected. Why does he just feel worse?

Chapter Text

‘Nothing exciting today -- Clay wants you to go over to his house tomorrow to set up his telescope. He says to bring snack foods. Have fun!

Klavier’

Apollo swallows against the lump in his throat. Gone are Klavier’s cheerful texts and teasing check-ins, replaced by bland politeness and a distance that Apollo can’t fathom breaching. It’s like a wall has been erected between them -- every half-hearted joke that Apollo makes is met with only a cursory polite laugh and one-word answer.

Even after Apollo called him -- when they were supposed to figure it out -- it hasn’t been the same. What else is Apollo supposed to do, apologize more? Even if he did, he’s pretty sure that Klavier would see right through it. Klavier himself hasn’t been extending any more olive branches, instead choosing to keep himself well out of Apollo’s business. Which he guesses should be a relief, but...

Apollo misses the camaraderie. He misses Klavier.

Maybe this’ll be it. Maybe we just...won’t switch anymore. The thought pulls at the recesses of his mind until he can barely stand it.

It’d be fine, right? Their relationship was an accident anyways, so why does Apollo’s chest hurt at the thought of never talking to him again? At first Apollo thought Klavier was being unreasonable -- this is just how I am, and if you can’t get that, then maybe you don’t get me at all.

But as the days march forward, it becomes clear that Klavier was filling a gap Apollo wasn’t even aware he had. No more Herr Forehead, no more cutesy song lyrics written up and down his arms, no more spammed emojis of encouragement. Their conversations are barely a few sentences now, aside from their daily logs. For god’s sake, he even misses the secret admirer letters that used to stand proudly atop his desk.

It was easier without Klavier interfering in his life, sure. He should be happy that he has some peace and quiet and stability again. But the gap still shows, slipping painfully between Little Piney and Los Angeles.

I really screwed up. And I don’t know how to fix it.

Which is how he finds himself hiking through the woods after class, towards an overgrown clearing that he knows by heart.

This is dumb. This is so dumb, Apollo chastises, cursing himself for even entertaining the thought. What’s a gravestone going to tell him that his gut won’t?

The trees fall away to reveal familiar crabgrass juxtaposed with hewn stone, unexpectedly shielded by a familiar shawl.

“...Mom?”

Thalassa turns to face him, surprise written across her face before it’s replaced with a soothing smile. “Hello, Apollo.” She sets the small handful of wildflowers she’s collected atop the grass and beckons for him to take a seat beside her.

He swallows nervously -- he didn’t know she would be here and now it’d be too awkward to leave, so…

The earth feels cool under his palms as he sits. Leaves crackle under his fingertips, blown in by the chilly fall breeze. How much time had passed since he and Klavier started switching? He’s used to it being warmer up here.

Oh. This is the first time he’s been here since last year, that’s why.

He fidgets uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with his mom. She waits with a small and infuriatingly knowing smile.

“So...what’re you here for?” he asks before immediately cringing. “Sorry, that was a dumb thing to ask. I guess I thought you only came up here when everyone else does.”

Great job, Justice -- that was an even dumber thing to say.

She titters out a laugh and drops a reassuring arm around Apollo’s shoulders. “No, not at all, sugar.” She sighs, relaxing at his side. “I come here whenever I’m feeling out of sorts -- he keeps me grounded,” she says, nodding to the headstone.

Apollo raises an eyebrow -- it’s a rock in the ground -- but elects not to comment. They’re silent for a moment, listening to the rustling of leaves tumbling across the ground.

“And you? Why did you come here?”

He feels his forehead wrinkle at the question before shrugging and staring at the ground. Why did he come here? To gain some perspective? Some peace? To tell a pile of dirt that he misses him and could really use his advice right now?

“...dunno.” It sounds half-hearted.

She doesn’t ask for any further explanation and simply nods, leaving her arm to rest across his shoulders. And for once, he stays still -- not shying away, not brushing her off, because he realizes it’s nice to be comforted when you’re lonely.

Is he lonely?

The idea makes him shudder, but maybe that’s what this is: this pang that won’t stop haunting his waking moments, only alleviated when he and Klavier switch again and he feels with his own hands that Klavier is okay, and that it might just be him left in this untethered limbo. It’s horrible, honestly.

“...hey, Mom? Can I ask you something?”

She gives a hum of acknowledgement and angles herself towards him, leaning even closer into his space.

Why’d you leave? What made you come back? Do we just have a family legacy of driving people away?

“...what’d you and Dad do when you fought? Were you guys ever able to move forward, afterwards? Or did you just...I dunno, wait for it to pass?”

She smiles, but it’s a little too sad to reach her eyes. “Your father made it difficult to fight with him, to say the least,” she chuckles. “He would sulk for days whenever it happened, look at me with the saddest eyes he could make. We were both young and stubborn,” she continues, a mild bitterness barely noticeable under her mellow demeanor. “He was always the type of person to stick his nose into places it didn’t belong. And I was so sure I was right about everything.”

She pauses, humming a breath that curls in Apollo’s ears alongside the breeze. “But he was always so…constant. Every time something went wrong, or we made a mistake, he was always there, reminding me that he loved me and that whatever we were feeling we would feel together. My problems were suddenly our problems, and I wasn’t sure how to reconcile that after working through everything alone for so long.”

Apollo bites his tongue against long-unresolved resentment.

“I wish I had been there when he needed me,” she says quietly. “I wish I hadn’t left.” Apollo startles at the admission. “I wish I knew that I had a time limit with him, so I could’ve loved him as much as he deserved.”

Apollo feels his eyes watering, face contorting with a sadness he forgot his mother felt, too. Because it’s okay to miss him.

It’s okay to take comfort in repetitive little actions, in the things he left behind, in the inheritance of joy and wonder that he continues to inspire. It’s okay to share those things, because his dad was too big of a person to only let Apollo feel his absence.

He sniffles. “I really miss him.”

“I know. I do too.”

~

Klavier’s phone rings, jarring and unwelcome during the long night. It’s nearly midnight but he’s still awake, cramming for his immigration law midterm. He blearily reaches for his phone without looking at the caller ID, unpleasantly gravelly voice hopefully coming through the speaker.

“Klavier?”

He furiously rubs his eyes awake before pulling the phone away from his ear to double-check: it’s Herr Forehead, alright. His shoulders sag with the weight of his sigh, forcing his expression into one of calm neutrality that will hopefully carry into his tone.

“Hallo, Herr Forehead, what can I --”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, again.” The younger boy’s voice sounds smaller than Klavier’s ever heard it. “And, um. Thanks. For being willing to be there for me.”

Klavier crooks an eyebrow before slouching into his chair. “I said we were alright, ja? Why are you apologizing again?” He would try and put more effort into being polite, but he’s so tired of it all.

“But we weren’t. We’re not. I…” Klavier hears a frustrated sigh. “I thought about it. And I kept thinking about it. And then I talked to my mom about it, and I’m really, really sick of just dancing around everything and being a jerk when I don’t have to.”

Klavier remains silent, scarcely able to breathe for fear of interrupting this fragile moment that Apollo’s chosen to share.

“You’ve been really nice to me. You keep trying to be my friend, even when I make it really difficult. And even if we never meet in real life, or we stop switching, or -- whatever happens, I want you to know that, um...you’re really important to me. Even if I -- gah, even if I have a really hard time talking about...stuff.”

Klavier can’t help but smile softly at Apollo’s clearly difficult word choice.

“But I want you to know -- I’m gonna try to be better. It’s nice to just...reach out sometimes. I guess. Maybe I’ll start with Clay or something, who knows,” Apollo rambles.

A tiny laugh escapes Klavier’s lip: barely a huff of air, but apparently enough to get picked up by his phone’s speaker. “I’m glad, Apollo. I think Clay will appreciate that.” He can almost imagine the way Apollo would unconsciously roll his eyes. “And for the record...you’re really important to me too. Thank you for calling.”

“So...we’re good? For real this time?”

“Ja,” Klavier murmurs. “We’re good. Go to sleep, ja?”

“Okay. Good night, Klavier.” It sounds like Apollo takes in a breath, preparing to say something else -- but the line goes dead, and Klavier is left alone to ponder whatever it could be.

He falls into a deep sleep, half-remembered dreams of a boy with brown hair and a wide grin floating around his head until he wakes, well-rested for the first time in a while.

~

Things get easier with Apollo, after that. Klavier doesn’t feel the need to hold himself back anymore, fully comforted by the fact that even if Apollo isn’t always good at expressing himself, he’s at least trying.

His effort shines through every time they switch – with the way Trucy now occasionally asks about Jove, and the way Clay, Athena, and Juniper have fewer stress lines when they talk about their parents or upcoming holidays. By the way Thalassa begins slipping in anecdotes about her and Jove and their travels around the dinner table.

And that’s not to mention the way Apollo’s demeanor gradually lightens into himself -- without the doubt, without the constant tiptoeing. They even call each other frequently now, evening texts replaced with lighthearted conversation under their respective covers.

“Oh, shoot, I forgot to mention. I think Daryan might be onto us. He keeps giving me weird looks, no matter how many German words I say.”

“Oh, har har. You act like it’s so easy to be me, Forehead. I’m hurt,” Klavier replies with a dramatic pout. Apollo snorts.

“Eh, once I get your makeup routine down, I think I’ll have all my bases covered. Also,” Apollo continues, clearing his throat, “what were you planning on doing for your birthday? It’s coming up, right?”

Klavier grimaces. “Ach, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed to hear that I’ll probably just work or spend the day writing music. Kristoph usually takes me to dinner.”

“Huh? That doesn’t sound right,” Apollo replies, doubtful. “What, no plans to go out on the town and throw a concert, rockstar?”

“Let me remind you that just because I live in a place with bars doesn’t mean I’m old enough to go to them. I still don’t believe Clay’s father gave you beer…”

“He did! It’s a whole ‘nother world in a small town. You should come down and try it.”

“Bah.” He waves a hand dismissively, praying that his sentimental blush at Apollo’s lighthearted invitation doesn’t somehow travel over the line. “I’ll have time to party or whatever once I’m finished with school. I don’t usually celebrate my birthday anyways.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Apollo says, humming to himself as though to confirm something.

“...why do you ask?”

“Hmm? No reason! Just...just curious.” Klavier raises an eyebrow, ready to call Apollo out on his suspicious behavior --

“Shoot, I think my mom needs something. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Night!” The line goes dead, and Klavier stares at his phone in mild puzzlement before lightly shrugging it off. He’s sure it’s just Apollo being his usual awkward self.

That doesn’t stop the delicate smile that creeps across Klavier’s face – it’s sweet of Apollo to remember.

~

Klavier deserves to have a fun day off on his birthday, right? And if he won’t plan one for himself – well, it’s not a huge burden on Apollo to plan it for him. It’s honestly the least he can do for all the trouble of switching all the time.

And it’d be a good way to thank Klavier, for everything. But Apollo refuses to think that deeply about it.

He double checks the schedule he’s been planning for the past couple of weeks: first they’ll go to Klavier’s favorite brunch spot, then see the Nethercutt Collection (per Daryan’s request), then the Getty Center (per Viola’s request), then meet with Kay and her girlfriend to finish up the day at the Santa Monica Pier.

If Klavier really wants to, he can skip out early and go to dinner with Kristoph. But – if this works – maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t have to.

So if everything else is set – tickets bought, reservations made – then there’s only one thing left to do.

Apollo grits his teeth against the wave of hesitation that washes over him as his hand brushes against guitar strings that are barely out of tune. He pulls his father’s guitar further into his lap. Even after not playing for years, the chords strum, pleasant and familiar, under his touch.

He has to stop a few times, to swallow against the omnipresent ache in his chest. He’s not fine right now, but the knowledge that he might be keeps his fingers moving deftly across the guitar’s neck. He nudges Klavier’s lyric sheet – now creased with folds months old – further into view, before settling in front of his phone’s camera.

“Alright…uh, happy birthday, Klavier. I know you’ve wanted to hear me sing, and I still think this is kinda weird, but…”

Deep breath. He can do this.

~

Klavier stretches awake to the mild commotion of LA’s streets as opposed to his usual alarm clock. Even though they have the day off from class due to the end of the semester, he’s still supposed to go into the Prosecutor’s Office to take care of some leftover paperwork. And Apollo never forgets to set his alarm, so why…?

His phone dings with a text.

Herr Edgeworth

Friday, 10:40 AM

Happy birthday, Klavier. I hope you enjoy your day off.

Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I thought I was still scheduled to come in today?

I hope not – your request for time off went through last week.

What request?

Klavier’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Was this Apollo’s doing?

He whips out yesterday’s daily log.

‘Happy birthday! You don’t have work till Monday, and you’re going out with friends. Your schedule and tickets are in your email, along with something else. Since Daryan and Viola technically planned this with you, try not to act too surprised, alright? I hope you like it. Daryan’s gonna pick you up at 11 AM.

-Apollo

P.S.: Don’t look at the attachment/watch the video until you’re back home.’

Klavier blinks, brain working at half-capacity. He planned a whole birthday party for me?

Among the notifications of well-wishes from social media and acquaintances, Klavier’s phone rings with another text.

Dayumyan 💀💣

Friday, 10:42 AM

ayoooo happy birthday

ur legally an adult lmao

get ready for back pain old man

…you are also eighteen

and thanks <3

lmao yeah thats how i know

anyways im gonna be a lil early bc we gotta pick up viola too

be there in ten

Klavier curses and flings himself to his feet with a grin. It’s been a very long time since he celebrated his birthday. Minutes later, Daryan greets him with a hearty slap on the back and a poorly wrapped gift in his car’s backseat.

“You never let us celebrate your birthday,” Daryan says with a playful smirk. “What made you change your mind this year?”

Klavier ponders it for a moment before a small and secretive smile dawns across his face. “…I’m not sure. Someone reminded me it was important.”

Viola greets Klavier with a spinning hug and brightly colored gift bag, before immediately poking his side and asking if his new beau would be joining them.

He laughs and nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Ah…nein. And he’s my pen pal, not my boyfriend, remember?”

She throws an overexaggerated wink his way. “Riiiight.”

Whatever Klavier may or may not feel for Apollo lays soft and comforting at the back of his mind, present in every gallery and overpriced ice cream stand they pass. Klavier wonders if Apollo somehow guessed that he hasn’t had the chance to see the ridiculous sites that LA’s known for since moving here, too busy with moving on with the rest of his life to appreciate it. The day passes in a blur, the smiling faces of friends he’s known for only a few years brimming with sentiment he feels could last a lifetime, if he lets it.

His phone buzzes with a text from Kristoph that he chooses to ignore – his brother knows where he is. If Apollo made sure of anything, it’s that.

His legs ache as he stumbles out of Daryan’s car at the end of the night, mirth creasing his eyes and putting a spring in his step. Everyone’s opened presents sit in one of the gift bags – even Kay got him a set of ornate black and silver rings.

The door to his and Kristoph’s apartment creaks open, light spilling into the open doorway from the street. It looks like his brother isn’t home yet, but for the first time, Klavier really can’t bring himself to mind.

“What last surprise do you have for me, Forehead…” Klavier mutters, chuckling to himself. He tried to avoid thinking about it during the day’s festivities, but now his curiosity compels him to push open his laptop, excitedly clicking open Apollo’s email.

There are two attachments: a typed document, and a video.

‘Hope you had a good time today. To be honest, half the reason why I picked the places that I did was because I was hoping that we’d switch and I’d be able to go to them instead of you, so sorry if they were all super touristy, haha. But seriously, I know you probably haven’t had the chance to waste time with your friends around the city since you moved here, and I feel like everyone should be able to do that for at least a little while.

Your friends are really something. And I’m writing this to you because I’m too much of a wimp to say it to your face, but you’re also really something. Because despite everything – moving to a new country, away from your family and friends and everything you’ve ever known – you still managed to make a band and get a job and form a whole path outside of everything everyone expected of you. And you don’t need to meet anyone’s expectations but your own because they’ve already led you to such amazing people and experiences.

I’m kinda envious, honestly. I hope I can become at least half the lawyer you’ll be. Maybe we’ll even see each other across the courtroom or something.

But, sorry, I’m rambling. I hope you like the gift. Tell me what you think of it?

-Apollo’

Klavier can feel his chest swell, heart fit to burst. Thoughtlessly, he clicks the video open, greeted by the astonishingly pleasant sight of Apollo with his hair down, holding a familiar guitar.

‘“Alright…uh, happy birthday, Klavier. I know you’ve wanted to hear me sing, and I still think this is kinda weird, but…”

Stilted guitar chords hum through his laptop’s tinny speakers, followed by Apollo’s painfully hesitant, painfully whole, painfully earnest singing along to the lyrics Klavier wrote on Jove’s anniversary.

“Nobody knows where they are going,

Oh how we try to trap our minds.

Over the edge of all our knowings,

Be it a bang of the divine.

Tip of my iceberg, blues are showing,

I’ve never been one for goodbyes.

So, till I meet you there, I’m singing

A traveling song to ease the ride, and so you know

Everywhere I roam,

I’ll see you on the road.”

The chords come to a gradual stop, Apollo’s exhale audible over the speaker, before he clambers over to shut the camera off.