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Apollo Justice did not get jealous. 

Growing up in an orphanage and various foster homes until he turned eighteen helped him deal with a lot of problems that not many other kids had. Most of those problems included the sharing of attention, which, as he got later into his teens, was focused less on him and more on the younger children. It was to be expected, of course – people preferred the cuter, innocent eight year olds compared to the loud and sometimes brash thirteen year old boy – so by the time he entered high school it didn’t really hurt anymore. In fact, he liked looking after the younger ones sometimes in favor of helping them rather than himself. It was common practice for him to sacrifice an hour or so of sleep or homework to help the other kids do their math or entertain them. He considered himself, all in all, a generous person. 

So that’s why when Klavier Gavin came swooping in to Themis Legal Academy and introduced himself to Athena, Apollo Justice definitely didn’t get jealous. 

Really, it was partially Athena’s fault for swooning over him. In her short time at the office, Apollo had never sensed that Athena was even into that kind of thing. Whatever it was, she never really gave off that vibe. But her eyes immediately lit up when Klavier said the words “former rock band”. 

Not only was it overwhelming to be working on a defense for Athena’s best friend, or that Klavier showed up out of nowhere, or that Klavier and Athena were taking turns mocking him, but it was very overwhelming (for some reason) that Athena came to be twice as energetic as before he showed up. 

“Didn’t know she was your type,” Klavier teased, leaning down to look at him and giving him that sly yet sparkling grin. Apollo brushed it off quickly and tried to ignore the fact that both pairs of eyes were now focused on him. But then they turned back to each other, Klavier only looking now and then at the younger attorney in the midst of his conversation with Athena. 

It wasn’t as if investigating with Klavier wasn’t helpful, it was just kind of…distracting. Apollo knew just how important this case was to Athena, but when he stood next to her during their conversation, he couldn’t help but feel like her attentions were a bit…divided, to say the least. She welled up when Klavier talked of his mentor, the victim, and Apollo even glimpsed and saw Widget flash a deep blue. 

And the mock mock trial: Klavier was showing off, putting on the best show he could. It was like a full year ago, back in their first session together in court, with the German prosecutor so full of swagger and confidence against the rookie who sent his brother to prison. He was leaned forward, hands shoved in his pockets, a self-assured grin on his face. He spoke to Athena the way he’d spoken to millions of girls before: practiced. Klavier gave polite chuckles at all of her jokes, followed his regular court proceedings (with extra flair, perhaps), and performed as if they were in the courtroom right then. 

Athena noticed. Apollo was sure of it. He didn’t need her special ability to hear all of the emotion in Klavier during the trial, that was for sure. He even saw the faintest hint of red on her cheeks throughout their banter, something he noted to ask about later. 

Their investigation was a success, with or without Klavier’s help. While the first day in court didn’t go as smoothly as it could have, they managed another day of investigation, returning to the school after court let out. They began at the stage, and of course he was still there, lingering around the crime scene for whatever reason. Apollo had to resist the urge to drop his jaw when Athena requested Klavier’s help for a second day. 

Something was driving Apollo crazy about the whole thing, and while a couple of ideas popped up in his mind over and over, he denied them and pinned the blame to Klavier, the glimmering fop he was. He’d never been so bothered in the presence of Klavier or Athena by themselves, but when they were together, something felt so…off. It was like a combination of his past and his present, seeing them interact. 

(It was definitely not the way Klavier’s hand ghosted across the small of Athena’s back while they were investigating the statues, nor the way he offered her his hand to help her off the stage.) 

After finishing up the stage they decided to go their separate ways, Klavier promising to watch the remainder of the trial in the gallery. He proved to be of even more use after identifying the tape with Juniper’s voice on it as a fake, but his actual involvement in the trial was minimal. He was just there to help investigate.  

He felt, for some reason, lucky that Athena was completely focused during the second day of their trial. She seemed completely and utterly motivated in getting Juniper’s acquittal, and he wasn’t sure if it was her devotion to her friend or her ambition for her trade. But Apollo couldn’t help his eyes from flicking back and forth from the trial to the gallery, where he knew Klavier sat. He could practically feel the older man’s eyes watching him…or watching Athena. 

Apollo Justice, admittedly, was a little jealous. 

They all went out to celebrate at Eldoon’s after the trial was over: Apollo, Athena, Mr. Wright, Trucy, Juniper, Robin, Hugh, and Klavier. To say it was a bit too large of a party for the small shack was an understatement, but Eldoon handled it well enough. They all sat in People Park, occupying several benches. The scent of salt and noodles filled the air, and as happy as everyone was, Apollo still felt distracted. 

He watched from afar as Klavier made idle conversation with Robin, who, from the looks of it, appeared to be a very avid Gavinners fan. The young student bounced with excitement, eventually catching the attention of Trucy, who bounded up from her seat next to Apollo to join in the Gavinners enthusiasm. 

Apollo sat, a cooling bowl of far too salty noodles in his lap, watching the chaos unfold. He was very used to dealing with his share of eccentric clients, but seeing Klavier mixed in with them was just so foreign. He’d always assumed that defense attorneys and prosecutors were to keep to their own little worlds, one working from client to client and the other living in the lap of luxury. He’d heard tale of Mr. Wright and the Chief Prosecutor back in the days, but always assumed that it never went any farther than a mutual partnership. But watching Klavier Gavin burn his tongue on cheap over salted noodles whilst trying to maintain an onslaught of questions from both Robin and Trucy gave him a sense of normalcy. 

It was beginning to get dark, and people were beginning to split off from the large group that had formed after the trial. Robin and Hugh announced they were leaving, and after a quick hug from Athena, Juniper joined them. Trucy began to look drowsy, and Mr. Wright laughed and said that they had to get home so she could get to school on time tomorrow. That left Apollo, Athena, and Klavier all in People Park as the streetlights began to flicker on dimly. 

Athena joined Apollo on the bench, stretching an arm behind her head. “Ah, wow, my first trial as defense team leader! I can’t believe it went so well. It was a shame about Professor Courte, though…” she frowned, but then crossed her arms and continued with even more resolve, “Well, I’m glad we caught her killer, at least.” 

“Ja, you did excellent today, Fraulein,” Klavier gave her his hundred watt smile, hands casually in his pockets. “As enjoyable as the evening was, I should probably be heading home. They get rather offended down at the Prosecutor’s Office if I fail to show up before nine.” And he turned to the two of them and said, “Goodnight, Herr Forehead,” with a subtle nod to Apollo, and then to Athena, “And goodnight, Fraulein Cykes.” Apollo squinted. Did he just wink at her? 

Before Klavier could get very far, Athena abruptly bolted from her seat and shouted, “Prosecutor Gavin, wait!” He turned, surprise in his expression, but he patiently waited for her to catch up. “Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit? I had a question for you.” 

“Of course, I could never turn down an invitation to walk with you, Fraulein Cykes,” and the two of them walked off down the path, leaving Apollo sitting there like an abandoned child. He stared at his empty bowl for a while, continuously looking in the direction they went until they were just faded yellow and purple dots in the distance. 

He straightened, fists on his knees, and cleared his throat. In his best Chords of Steel, he proclaimed to the empty park, “I am not jealous!” 

His bracelet tightened. 

“So what did you ask Prosecutor Gavin last night?” Apollo asked, leaning on his small desk in the office as he spoke. He’d tried not to let last night bother him too much, considering that he knew Klavier was a flirt, but even when he went to bed he couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things he noticed. It was times like these when his impeccable eyesight was something he wished he didn’t have. 

Athena, curled up on the couch and flicking through programs on Widget, barely glanced up before responding. “Oh, nothing important, really. I was kind of curious about his time at Themis Legal Academy. I can’t imagine him in that garish red color…” then she looked back over at him, grinning widely. “Not that it doesn’t look good on you, Apollo.” 

Apollo frowned and felt his bracelet tighten, rubbing his wrist to ease the tension. Whether it was from her question or the comment about his suit he didn’t know, but he grumbled anyways, “My suit is just fine, thank you.” 

“I know, I know!” She called, and he didn’t feel his bracelet tighten on that one. So it was about Prosecutor Gavin. “Hey, do you have the file for the defense we did with the Parsons’ last month? I think I need to fix something in my databanks.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Apollo responded, pulling a manila folder out of his desk drawer. He stood and walked over to the back of the couch, handing it to her and watching as she began to search Widget’s data. “So, what did he say?” he lingered awkwardly by the back of the couch, waiting for an answer. 

“Hm?” 

“About the academy, that is,” and he knew he had her now, because Athena wasn’t that great of a liar. Even if she could read people’s emotions, she was horrible at hiding things, and one way or another he was going to get an answer. “He probably had a lot to say about it, yeah?” 

“Actually, yeah!” Athena momentarily closed Widget and turned to him, sudden enthusiasm in her eyes. The quickness of her response startled him, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. “He said the courses were really tough, but going there gave him a lot of practical experience. Did you know he debuted at his first trial when he was seventeen?” She gaped, and her grin got even wider. “That’s one year younger than me!” 

“Uh,” Apollo coughed, and he was pretty sure whatever advantage he thought he had was gone, “yeah, I think I knew that. That was the case that got Mr. Wright’s badge taken away.” He pressed his finger to his forehead, disgruntled, and muttered, “I should, uh, get back to work.” 

“Sure, Apollo,” Athena waved her arm dismissively, not even looking up to add, “Make sure that Prosecutor Gavin doesn’t see you blushing like a virgin!” 

Her comment startled him enough to bump his hip painfully into the corner of his desk, and Athena burst into laughter. 

Apollo had pulled an all-nighter. Mr. Wright had picked up a new case for an old friend (some guy named Butz?), and it ended up being much more complicated than he had originally thought. So, since he had nothing else to do anyways, Apollo volunteered to help him with whatever he needed that day. What he didn’t realize, however, was that volunteering to help meant literally being his dog for the day, at every beck and call: Go here, Apollo, pick up these files, Apollo, go get this form signed by Head Detective Gumshoe, Apollo. It was exhausting, and even after Mr. Wright claimed a bit of sleep on the couch around five a.m., Apollo was still working away at his desk, shuffling pieces of evidence back and forth and finalizing some notes for the trial that day. 

His phone rang around seven thirty, startling Apollo awake so that his arm slipped out from under his chin and his head hit his desk. From the couch, Mr. Wright shot up like a bullet, hair sticking in wild directions, and immediately he got up to go prep for the trial. With a groan, Apollo pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, squinting at the number. He frowned when he saw the name. Clay?

It was far too earlyfor anyone to be making phone calls, even if Clay had always been an early riser. With a reluctant and audible sigh he answered the call and grumbled, “Clay? Why are you calling me? Do you even realize what time it is…?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s early,” the other’s voice came through the line, fast-paced and energetic, even at this hour. Apollo couldn’t help but smile – that was so like him, full of drive all the time. “But listen, man, we need to have a meeting! Like, right now!” 

“Can’t,” he yawned, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while trying to rearrange the papers on his desk. “I’ve been up all night organizing these papers for Mr. Wright. I’m his co-counsel for today’s trial. Speaking of which, I better start getting ready…” 

On the other line, Clay let loose a long, exasperated groan. “Apollo, we haven’t seen each other in forever! The judge probably had a best friend at one point, I’m sure he’d understand. Maybe he’d even shed a tear or two.” 

“Well,” Apollo hummed, lips curling into a grin, “while that does sound like something he might do, it’s still no excuse to skip out on a trial. Besides, even if I were to skip, Athena is still pretty new, and this case is pretty weird for her to take it on.” He took a moment to glance at the clock. He could probably spend another solid half hour finishing the work with the evidence before he had to stop back home and get ready. “I can call you after the trial. If we can manage to wrap this up in one day then maybe we can have lunch.” 

“Fine, but you better not forget,” Clay retorted, and abruptly hung up. Apollo sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket and continuing to finish up some notes. He wondered in the back of his mind what was so important that Clay would try and convince him into skipping court for the day.

While the trial itself seemed complicated, all it took were a few pieces of evidence presented by the prosecution to close the holes in the defense’s case. Apollo supposed that that was how things went whenever you went up against one of the Payne brothers. Their client, a pitiable man named Larry Butz, was charged with the murder of his short time wife, a French model who went by the name of Elise. Butz seemed like the obvious killer, considering his prints were on the weapon and he had a motive. 

But the case continued to take sharp turns throughout the course of the trial, revealing that not only was the victim not actually French, nor was she a model, but she was the daughter of a mob boss over in Las Vegas. Mr. Wright managed to find the man that killed her: the son of the boss of the rival mob, whom the victim was having an affair with. His confession almost came too soon, and a not guilty verdict was issued as Gaspen Payne leaned on the prosecutor’s bench, humiliated.   

The lobby was a buzz of excitement, the usual after a successful trial. Butz immediately ran up to Mr. Wright, sobbing and grasping his lapels. “What am I gonna do now, Nick?! I’m ruined! Elise…she was my soul mate! I had finally found the one, after all these years, and she goes and gets killed!” He wailed, and by the way Mr. Wright sighed, Apollo could gather this was not the first time something like this happened. 

“Larry, you should probably take a break from romance for a year or two,” his boss offered, gently removing Butz’ hands from his lapels and adding brusquely, “or twenty. I can’t defend you every time a girlfriend or a wife or whatever gets killed.” 

Apollo was just about to ask Mr. Wright what their relationship was when his phone rang, and he excused himself from the two so he could answer it. Clay’s name flashed on the screen, and he sighed, because who else would it be? “Clay! I could have been in the middle of the trial!” He scolded. 

“From the sound of it, it’s over though,” the other voice came through, and Apollo could hear the energy in it, just like this morning when he called the first time. “Did you win?” 

He glanced back over at the two men, where Mr. Wright was awkwardly trying to get Butz to stop crying and getting snot all over his jacket. “Uh, yeah. Our client seemed like a real idiot, but at least he was an innocent idiot.” 

“Great! I’ll meet you at the café across from the courthouse in ten,” and the other line clicked off. Apollo frowned, noting the urgency in Clay’s voice. He walked back over to Mr. Wright and Butz, congratulating and apologizing all at once to the latter, and said that he had somewhere to be. When he left the courthouse, his client’s howls were only growing in volume, much to his boss’ chagrin. 

He couldn’t even get down the steps of the courthouse before spotting Clay waiting impatiently at the base of them. It was hard to miss him, really: his GYAXA jacket and visor stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of various shades of business suits. “Apollo!” his friend called out to him with a raised hand, in a volume that rivaled his own Chords of Steel. Apollo didn’t even have time for formalities before Clay was yanking his arm across the street, clearly distracted, and Apollo just let him. When Clay seemed this determined, there was no stopping him. 

They stood in line at the coffee shop, and Clay finally turned to his best friend with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You, my good sir, have some serious explaining to do.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually,” and Apollo mirrored his expression, hands on his hips. He looked at Clay, amused, and continued on. “Last I remember I haven’t really done anything wrong, besides defending some accused criminals.” 

Clay’s expression flickered a bit of amusement for a minute, but he quickly flipped back on a serious expression and exasperatedly replied, “Not that! This has nothing to do with that.” He waited impatiently while Apollo ordered his coffee, shifting from one foot to another. Clay quickly recited his usual and then tugged Apollo aside. “What the hell are you doing just casually hanging out with famous musicians? And not telling me about it?” 

Apollo’s lighthearted mood fell a bit, and he felt his expression fall next to it. Klavier. Really the last thing he wanted on his mind. The two of them hadn’t spoken since the night of the Themis Legal Academy case, and all of the teasing Athena had been doing since then hadn’t really helped brighten the subject. Instead, he tried to keep himself cool. “Prosecutor Gavin is my rival in court. And his music isn’t even that –” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “…Where did you hear about that? You told me you barely ever look into my casework.” 

Instead of answering they both received their coffee and went to sit down. Clay unzipped his jacket and pulled something out of one of the inner pockets. He revealed a magazine, sliding it across the table wordlessly. Apollo frowned deeply. “Clay, I know you’re into gossip and all that, but –” 

“Shh,” the other chided, and jabbed a finger at the cover. “Look.” 

On the cover of the magazine, in bold yellow print, was written ROCK STAR KLAVIER GAVIN IN LOVE? Apollo felt his body go cold. Well, he thought, that’s one way to get people to read it. The cover was a picture of Klavier, Apollo, and Athena investigating at Themis Legal Academy (What the hell? Who took a picture of this?) with smaller photos of them throughout the day surrounding it. In the photo, Klavier appeared to be laughing, and so did Athena, but Apollo stood stone-faced. The prosecutor had his hand on Athena’s back and she had one on his shoulder, and in smaller black font next to it read Former Gavinners Front Man Spotted with Red-Haired Beauty. 

This was really the last thing he needed right now. 

“What the hell?” Apollo finally voiced aloud, snatching the magazine up and immediately turning to the listed page number. Clay sat back, with a knowing expression, as if Apollo didn’t need to explain anything. He gaped at the article, appalled, and merely exclaimed, “This was a murder investigation! What kind of twisted –” 

He cut himself off, sighing deeply and taking a moment to focus on his breathing. This was the paparazzi they were talking about, and what with the recent Gavinners breakup (and the other thing that they didn’t dare talk about), Klavier was likely to be a hot topic for the press. Pushing morality aside, he took a look at the article, scanning it quietly while Clay took a drink of his coffee. 

More photos of the three of them surrounded the article, but they mostly focused on Klavier and sometimes Athena. Apollo caught glimpses of himself here and there, and even a picture of he and Klavier having a conversation, but based on the description of the picture (Gavin spotted conversing with novice defense attorney, Apollo Justice), Apollo was the least of their worries. The article delved into the past year’s history, including Daryan Crescend’s arrest and his brothers sentencing, passing over them as if they were nothing more than mere unimportant anecdotes. There was even a short paragraph covering Athena, mentioning her opposite profession but mostly choosing to label her as mysterious. Athena had her secrets – Apollo knew that – but she was far from mysterious. 

“I was on my way into work this morning and I stopped to get some muffins for Starbuck and I, and I found this on the magazine rack,” Clay explained, resting his elbows on the table. He glanced down at the article and placed a finger on a picture of Athena. “Is this that new girl working at the office with you now?” 

“Yeah,” Apollo sighed, pressing a finger to his forehead. Clay raised an eyebrow again, this time in confusion, and Apollo continued, “Look, whatever this garbage is telling you, Prosecutor Gavin and Athena have nothing going on.” Begrudgingly, he added, “They’ve never even worked on a case together.” 

“So what you’re telling me is that it’s all bull,” and Clay sighed this time, sitting back into his chair with a frown on his face. He crossed his arms, wearing an almost pouting expression. “Man, I thought it was true. I mean, look at his face in that second one. However,” and he sat up again, twice as energized now, “that doesn’t have anything to do with you. Are the two of you guys friends?” 

“…Sort of,” Apollo admitted with reluctance, taking his first drink of coffee. “I…wouldn’t call us close, but I think we’ve been through enough together where it’d be weird if we weren’t friends, you know?” The thought still made him shudder a bit. Sometimes, when it was late and the lights in his apartment were low, he could still hear Kristoph’s laughter bouncing off the walls of the courtroom, see Klavier’s mask slip away for a split second to reveal someone in the midst of heartbreak. “He invited Trucy and I to one of his concerts once, and it was great and all, but then someone died, so…” he trailed off, awkwardly. 

Just what was his relationship with the German prosecutor anyways? They did have some kind of connection because of their history in court together, but beyond that, Apollo wasn’t sure there was much there on a personal level. The only thing that really connected them was Kristoph, and to Apollo, that was very little reason to keep in touch. But everything that had been happening as of late, what with him and Athena, well, that made him question things. He didn’t think he could deny being jealous anymore, and although the feeling was unnatural for him, it did make him reconsider how he felt about Klavier. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Clay breaking the silence, commenting with a straight face, “You should ask him out.” Apollo nearly spilled his coffee. 

“Wh-What? What is that supposed to mean, Clay?! I barely know the guy and you’re telling me that we should go on a date?” But Apollo could hardly hide his flustered expression, quickly growing red. Clay noticed and let himself smirk a bit, leaning in to speak lower. 

“Okay, let me say it like this. We’ve known each other for a long time, right? You and I, that is.” Apollo nodded, furrowing his brow. “I can tell when something is bothering you, and this –” he put a finger on the picture of Klavier and Athena “– is bothering you a lot. The only reason for that is you either like her or you like him. I’m taking a stab and saying that it’s him.” 

Apollo gaped, speechless. He barely managed to stutter out something like, “Athena is just a coworker and a friend,” before Clay put up a hand and continued. “Yeah, I figured. That was pretty obvious. From what you’ve told me, you’ve gotten pretty good at reading body language lately, right? Well,” and he pushed the magazine towards Apollo again, “compare his posture when he’s talking to her in contrast to when he’s talking to you.” 

He looked, and found that Klavier’s body seemed pretty relaxed around both of them, yet there was a bigger air of confidence surrounding him whenever he looked at Athena. Apollo frowned again, trying to pinpoint a few more differences before sighing and giving up. He was pretty sure that that wasn’t what Clay was anticipating, anyways. “And let me just say,” Clay piped up again, catching Apollo’s attention, “Klavier Gavin is a rock star. Do you know how many crazed teenage hormonal girls would literally murder somebody to be in your shoes? I can barely imagine how many people have cried themselves to sleep because they wanted him so bad.” And he grinned widely, but all Apollo felt was shame. 

“If they want him, they can have him,” he sighed, and Clay decided to drop the subject. They spoke for another solid hour, going on about this and that, Apollo filling in the gaps of information about his work over the past couple months since Athena joined the Agency. He smiled when he saw Clay’s eyes light up when he was talking about his job at the Space Center. Clay was going up into space in a few weeks for the first time, and he was so thrilled, so excited to finally be living his dream. Apollo promised to watch the whole coverage of the HAT-2 launch on TV, and in return, Clay promised that he would mention him in the news coverage when he got home. 

He didn’t get time to think about Clay’s advice before everything changed. 

It all went wrong so fast. Apollo waited for the launch to come on in the morning only to discover that there was a bombing and a murder. Clay was dead, Clay was gone, everything was going so wrong. The floor was collapsing beneath him, every step he took felt like there were nails in his feet. His childhood hero, Solomon Starbuck, reduced to a pitiable shell of a man accused of his best friend’s murder. He knew the man was innocent. He had to be. 

Then the courtroom was bombed. He was hurt. More people were killed. Athena was lying to him. Everything was so painful, but he pushed on, repeating his mantra over and over until they were the only words in his head, even if it wasn’t true. Even after the trial for the courtroom bombing, nothing had really been solved, and he felt like he was back at square one. Whenever he used to feel like he was back at square one, he would call Clay, because Clay was so great at giving him advice. 

Apollo had to investigate by himself. He could barely stand to be around Athena, even with his bandages on, just knowing that there was something going on. He looked through not only Clay’s death but information for the UR-1 retrial, and was determined to get to the bottom of it. He barely slept, stayed away from the Agency at all costs. Keeping himself busy was the key to getting through it faster. 

Simon Blackquill was innocent. Apollo had known that for a while. But Athena was a different story. 

Finding out the truth behind Clay’s death was the most exhausting and the hardest thing Apollo had ever done. The fact that the murderer was some mysterious “phantom” didn’t really ease any grief, but he allowed himself to feel relieved that Athena was innocent. Her momentous past with Blackquill was revealed to the court, and after his exoneration, she cried. 

They all went out to celebrate after that trial, too, but Apollo wasn’t in the mood. More than anything, he just felt tired. So he left his bike at the courthouse, took a bus home, and fell asleep the moment he hit the pillow. Clay’s jacket was his blanket. 

The next thing he knew someone was buzzing in through his intercom. He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. He rewrapped Clay’s jacket around himself and tried not to choke up at the smell of it. Now that he knew the truth behind what happened, there was nothing to occupy himself with. Blearily, he dragged himself to his front door and buzzed in whoever it was without checking.  

Apollo waited until whoever it was was at his door, knocking three times softly, before he opened it. And Klavier stood there, hands in his pockets, but he looked nothing like he usually did. He smiled at Apollo, but it wasn’t the normal star quality smile he saved for all of his fans. It looked…like a genuine smile. But Apollo still wasn’t in the mood. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he stated, rubbing his eye again. 

“Guten abend,” Klavier greeted, looking away for a moment. He seemed to be trying to focus on everything but Apollo, running a hand easily through his bangs. Apollo frowned, crossing his arms. He really wasn’t in a playful banter kind of mood. 

“What do you want?” And Apollo was close to shutting the door if he didn’t get this over with soon. Klavier seemed to notice, and leaned against the doorway. 

“I…wanted to check on you. I was at the trial today. Very dramatic, ja?” His expression went neutral, and suddenly the whole interaction seemed different. Klavier was here for him, not Athena or anyone else. And he was concerned. Apollo could see it in his eyes. Klavier continued, lowly, softly, “I wanted you to understand that I am here for you. I…” he trailed off for a moment, posture stiffening suddenly. “I know what this feels like.” 

Oh. Kristoph. Here they were again, in the same pitiable boat that was slowly sinking. Our relationship is so strange. I bet it’s weirder than Mr. Wright and the Chief Prosecutor. Apollo sighed softly, his throat tightening up, and he saw the same happen to Klavier. But in the next moment that tightness was gone, and Klavier smiled again, but they both knew that it was just for show. “In case you ever need me, you have my number, ja?” 

He did. Apollo didn’t really think Klavier was what he needed right now. What he needed – who he needed – was Clay, but that wasn’t going to happen. But Apollo knew he was strong, toughened up to that sort of thing that being an orphan does to someone. At this point, he really had nothing to lose. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he spoke, a bit too loud, “do you want to go do something?” 

Klavier’s expression shifted to confusion. “Go…do something?” He hummed in thought, raising his eyebrows a bit. “What do you suggest?” 

“Something,” he responded quickly. He could tell that Klavier was surprised by the seriousness of his tone. With a sigh, he rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and continued in a softer tone, “Anything.” When Apollo looked up, he found the other’s eyes trained on him, sympathy welled up in them. “I just want to distract myself.” 

The German paused to think, leaning back casually against the doorway. He allowed a light smile to come back onto his face. “I know of a bar downtown. They have a lot of good drinks, if that is something you’re willing to try…?” 

Getting drunk with Klavier Gavin. Well, that wasn’t on my to-do list. But getting drunk was almost as good as getting distracted. It wouldn’t erase any of the hurt – he knew that – but it was damn close. So he agreed, and Klavier led him out of his own apartment down to the street, and nodded at his motorcycle. He handed Apollo a spare helmet and put one on himself, murmuring, “You’ll have to hold onto me.” 

Apollo held on tight, shut his eyes, and pretended that he was fine. 

The first time Apollo got drunk was just after he graduated high school. He and Clay had their own small graduation party, because they both knew there was no one else that would bother coming to a real one. They holed themselves up in the cramped apartment that Apollo managed to scrape up just after turning eighteen, brought out some cheap beer they’d gotten ahold of, and got as shitfaced as they could. Apollo remembered crying because he was so relieved to have graduated high school, he was going to be something in the world, not just another stupid troublemaking kid. Seeing him cry made Clay cry too, and they wore themselves quickly after that. Apollo had three cans of beer and was out like a light. 

He wished he could say that this time felt much different at all. 

They both sat at the bar, right next to each other, shoulders touching. Klavier had a tall beer in front of him and was taking his time in downing it, while Apollo was only two mugs of beer in and he already felt lousy. He had always been a horrible drunk – he’d known that from the very first time – but being drunk with Klavier felt oddly personal. He knew Klavier wasn’t drunk, because he was still making good natured small talk with Apollo and his eyes were moderately focused. 

Klavier was good at distracting him. Apollo wondered if it was a talent that he was a natural at or if he’d developed it over the years of stardom (which, when he thought about it, was probably the latter). He had a knack at telling ridiculous stories and pulling them off moderately well. Some of them even made Apollo laugh. He appreciated it. 

“…and, well, there wasn’t anything to do, because our tour bus was broken down, and we didn’t have any money because our drummer, Eric Sforza, had run off to the nearest gas station with all the cash we had to call for help. So,” and he leaned in, as if this is the most interesting part of the story, and Apollo was compelled to lean in, too, “Daryan looks at me – and it’s sweltering hot, mind you – he looks at me and suggests that we go for a run.” 

“A run?” Apollo raised his eyebrows, taking another drink from his cup, and frowning when it came up empty. 

“Ja, a run,” Klavier grinned, shifting a bit in excitement. He seemed contented to be able to talk about his time with the Gavinners this fondly. “Which was odd, seeing that if we left our tour bus, we’d get swarmed by fans, and it was too scorching to even consider moving. But I must’ve been delirious, because I agreed.” He chuckled, moving his gaze from Apollo to his glass. His eyes sparkled with nostalgia. “The two of us took a jog in the middle of nowhere, shirtless and in leather pants and boots. It made top stories the next day.” 

Apollo stared down his empty mug and pushed it to the bartender for a refill. While he waited, a somewhat comfortable silence settled between the two of him. He looked up to meet Klavier’s eyes. “You can talk about that so freely. Despite everything that happened.” 

At this point they were walking on tender grounds, unbroken territory that neither of them had the desire to cross. Apollo knew that, and by the understanding yet downcast smile Klavier gave him, the other knew it, too. “Herr Forehead,” he prodded softly, leaning a bit closer, “just because bad things have happened, it does not erase the good that happened. They were tragedies, truly, all of them –” and he gave Apollo a gentle nod and placed a hand on his shoulder “– but the tragedy is not the important part. Whether or not Daryan is in prison does not excuse that the two of us were once extremely close.” A lump seemed to lodge in Klavier’s throat and he stopped, turning away and removing his hand before he could lose his cool. After a moment to recompose himself, he displayed another calm smile and took a long drink. “And Kristoph was a very devoted, caring brother.” 

His name hit Apollo like a ton of bricks, and he knew right away he didn’t want to talk about it any further than what Klavier had said. He remembered right after Kristoph’s sentencing reading dozens of fictional articles claiming that they had gotten “an exclusive interview with Klavier Gavin”, revealing “the truth behind his family history”. They all wrote about huge, controversial points; some magazines even claimed that Kristoph was abusive, physically and emotionally, or that Klavier practically raised himself. But hearing the negation to that straight from Klavier’s mouth stunned him. “…He was?” was all he could rasp out. 

“Yes,” the German said softly, almost indistinguishable over the noise of the bar. His blonde eyelashes fluttered shut, almost in concentration. He focused so hard to control his voice as he continued, “That is why learning the truth hurt even more.” 

“…Oh.” Apollo didn’t know what to say to that, but he knew he agreed. While losing Clay was painful, it was a different pain then Klavier’s. Apollo had met Clay when they were in middle school, but Klavier only had one brother, and that brother had been with him his entire life. While he contemplated that, a silence settled between the two of them, mutually pensive. Apollo focused on the humdrum of the bar: conversations of meaningless words all around them, sports and crime shows playing on the flat screens above the bar, the distant sound of food being made in the kitchen. 

There had been a heavy question weighing on his mind. He grabbed his fresh mug of beer, gripping the handle until his knuckles turned white, and asked without looking up, “Does it get easier?” 

“No,” Klavier said simply, with a lightness that felt a bit too practiced. He took a slow drink and finished his glass, setting it aside. “I have been told many times that the first year is always the hardest. I will tell you this, Apollo,” and the use of his first name made the younger almost flinch with the realness of the situation, “remembering what has happened is very easy. The hardest times are when you forget.”  

And just like that the conversation was over, and Apollo could tell by the way Klavier closed his eyes for a brief moment and opened them smiling. The mask had been replaced. But behind that mask that had cracked away for a moment was a lonely, beaten man. Apollo found himself staring at Klavier, watching all of his practiced motions, and suddenly it hit him. 

He liked him. Or, well, he like liked him, as Trucy might have put it. The moment that thought popped into his head a weight lifted from his shoulders. It explained why he felt so horrible every time he thought about Athena and Klavier together, or why all of those articles tied a knot in his stomach. Sitting next to him in the bar, Apollo had the overwhelming thought that Klavier was beautiful, but it wasn’t his gunmetal blue eyes or his practically golden blonde hair that made him that way. The tragedies he’d experienced should have hardened him to the world, yet here he was, sitting next to plain old boring Apollo, comforting him in the best way he knew how. He never would have dared to call him beautiful before, but knowing that Klavier Gavin was human made Apollo realize just what he had been blind to. 

It could also have been the alcohol. Apollo was never good with alcohol. 

But that realization on Apollo’s part didn’t change his situation at all. He was still sitting in some crowded sports bar, several beers in, drunk and now alarmingly close to tears. And Klavier liked girls. Klavier loved girls; Apollo was completely unaware of any opportunity to flirt with a woman that Klavier had passed up. He’d assumed there was some sort of tension between the two, but thinking about it now, it was probably their history in court together, nothing more. And that realization made his heart sink even further. 

Suddenly Klavier was looking back at him, all bright blue eyes and eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Herr Forehead?” He questioned, easily slipping back into his use of the nickname. Klavier spun on his stool a bit to face him, one elbow leaned on the counter of the bar, his black shirt collar slipping down a bit to reveal oh god don't go there Apollo. Apollo’s mouth practically went dry at the sight of his tan, exposed neck. He felt very, very drunk. “Is something wrong?” 

Apollo heard his question, but it sounded like Klavier had been speaking through water, the words distorted over the noise of the bar and the pounding in his ears. He stared at Klavier’s lips, parted slightly in confusion and shining a bit with the wetness of his beer, and emotion came over him like a crashing wave. He never wanted to kiss another man before, not really, but he supposed Klavier Gavin had this effect on a lot of people. The younger man leaned forward a bit, eyeing his lips the whole way, and – 

“Oh shit,” Apollo stuttered, recognizing what he was about to do, and he admonished himself, immediately straightening his posture. By Klavier’s expression, he seemed to have figured it out, too. “I, uh,” was all he could get out, and his mouth was suddenly very dry, his palms were sweaty, and he had never been this embarrassed in his entire life. “I’m going to, uh, go to the bathroom real quick?” 

Klavier didn’t have time to respond before Apollo stumbled off of his stool and in the direction of the bathrooms. His feet felt like cinderblocks as he walked, trying as hard as he could to get away from the bar without making even more of a fool of himself. When he reached the back overly lit hallway where the bathrooms were, he knocked on the men’s before finding it locked. Defeated, he slumped against the wall. 

All of a sudden he felt like he was seeing everything in hyper-focused detail. There were sticky stains on the floor from where beer must’ve been spilled. There were dirty footprints leading into the back room where the employees came from. He could have probably counted every piece of lint and dirt that was stuck to the black rugs in front of the bathrooms. But it was all a way to distract himself. 

What the hell was he thinking? Here was Klavier, a man with so many problems of his own, shoveling aside all of his work just to take Apollo out for the night so he could stop pitying himself. And Apollo had been the one to ask him, and oh shit, come to think of it, is he paying? Red hot embarrassment cast itself onto his cheeks, and the beer was beginning to feel heavy in his stomach. Along with that mortification, he was starting to feel physically ill. Apollo was usually good at controlling himself, but he felt so overwhelmed, with the sudden discomfort of his stomach and his almost kissing Klavier, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He covered his own face and tried to disappear into the wall. 

There was a shadow over him all of a sudden, blocking out the bright lights of the back hall. Hesitantly, Apollo opened his eyes, coming face to face with Klavier, who was frowning. Great, now what? He’s probably going to tell me he’s leaving. Not that I could blame him. Just staring back at Klavier was starting to hurt. Ashamedly, Apollo covered his face again, feeling the warm, fat tears roll down his cheeks. 

The other seemed to notice, and through his hand, Apollo could see the shadow get larger, meaning he had gotten closer. “Apollo?” He heard his soft voice, almost cooing to him, and it made his heart ache. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles on his collarbone. “Maus, what’s wrong?” Apollo tried to reply, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “Please, you can tell me.” 

“I – I just –” He took a breath, slowly removing his hand from his face. Apollo felt surprised to see that Klavier did not look embarrassed, simply worried. “I, I tried to kiss you and I feel like such a mess, and nothing is really going right right now, I just…” he trailed off, babbling until all that was coming out were pitiful blubbers. Klavier waited patiently. “I feel so goddamn awful all the time, and you just looked so amazing sitting there and I wanted to kiss you, and, and…” 

Perhaps it was the alcohol that made him act, or the fact that he was in the middle of some bar sobbing like a two-year old, but Apollo reached out and clung to Klavier. The latter tensed at first, but relaxed soon after, moving his hand around to rest on Apollo’s back as he tried to calm himself down. The proximity and warmth of Klavier just brought up all of those realizations again from before, and Apollo buried his head into the crook of his neck. God, he smelled so good: a mixture of old cologne and a hint of his shampoo. 

“Klavier,” Apollo sniveled, and he felt him tense up again – he had never called him anything other than “Prosecutor Gavin” out loud – and he breathed in his smell again. Shaking still, he pressed his lips to the junction where Klavier’s jaw met his neck, open mouthed and sloppy. The cat was out of the bag now – might as well see where it leads. Klavier remained still, but Apollo could feel a sort of humming in his throat, like he was beginning to say something. The brunette silenced it with another kiss to his neck, focusing on the feeling of his lips against his neck, the thrumming of his pulse under his mouth. 

“Apollo,” came his words, finally, but Apollo ignored him and kept trying to kiss the older man into submission. “Apollo, please,” and his hands moved to Apollo’s shoulders, trying to steady him. Apollo couldn’t see Klavier’s face, but he could hear his voice: a slight quiver, full of compassion and understanding. “Shh, schatz, calm down.” He stopped trying to kiss him, feeling a whole lot worse instead of better (he didn’t speak German at all, and schatz sure sounded a lot like “stop”). Shit, shit, he wondered how many photographers were going to get pictures of this moment. He could see the headlines flashing now: KLAVIER GAVIN’S GAY LOVER. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, voice getting stuck in the bottom of his throat. He let go of Klavier, leaning against the wall, shutting his eyes tight again and trying to block out the world. Klavier’s warmth was gone, replaced with the coldness of the air. “I can’t stop messing up,” he added, and there was more crying that he couldn’t control, because he wasn’t just talking about Klavier anymore. 

Clay would have never let this happen. If he had just taken Clay’s advice, he wouldn’t be standing here, waiting to die from the awkwardness of the situation he had drunkenly created. Thinking about Clay just made things worse. 

When he opened his eyes, Apollo found that he had slid to the floor, knees pressed up to his chest and hands covering his face. Klavier was no longer standing in front of him. Great, just wonderful. Apollo ruined the one good thing that had happened to him this evening. His whole week had been nothing but disaster upon disaster, and now this was going to be added to the pile of shit that he’d experienced. When those magazines ultimately came out with their picture on the cover, he promised himself he wouldn’t buy them. 

But then there was a hand on his shoulder again, and when he opened his eyes and looked in front of him, Klavier kneeled with a small smile and a paper cup filled with water in his hand. “Drink,” he urged, handing Apollo the cup. “If I had known what a terrible drunk you were, I would have made sure you hadn’t had as much.” The water felt good going down his throat, settling the burning sensation that had curled its way into his stomach. 

Embarrassed, Apollo wiped at his face with his sleeve. He tried to focus on Klavier in front of him, but it only made things worse, and he felt the tears begin to well up again. The other seemed to notice, moving closer and resting on one knee. “Shh, shh, please don’t cry anymore,” he murmured, and he looked almost a bit embarrassed, too. But Klavier smiled again, gentle and real, and Apollo felt his stupid drunken affections for the man rise up again. “We should get out of here, ja? It’s getting late anyways.” 

So they walked out of the bar (well, more like Klavier walked and Apollo stumbled helplessly), and Klavier hailed a cab. Apollo was too busy leaning on Klavier’s shoulder, sniffling pathetically, to listen to him recite the address. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled to rest by the hum of the cab and the smell of Klavier around him.

When Apollo woke up in the morning, he didn’t expect to be in a strange bedroom. 

He woke up slowly, letting the feeling of being awake sink in, refusing to open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his head felt like someone was banging a sledgehammer against it over and over again. A hangover. Excellent. From the few times he’d gotten this horribly drunk, he’d taken things slowly. With a groan, he tugged the blankets up over his head – wait, blankets? On Apollo’s bed he had thin sheets, not feathery covers. Gradually, he opened his eyes. 

Well, it wasn’t bright, at least. Wherever Apollo was, it was comfortable. He was too exhausted to feel concerned with where he was. He was in a bedroom, at least, one that was well-furnished and…well, nice. The headboard, along with a small dresser and a bookshelf, was a dark wood, accented with silver metal. Around him, the over enveloping covers were solid white, as if they were rarely used. The curtains were closed tight, shutting out all the light in the room, as if it were just for him. 

Wait, how did he get here, anyways? Apollo sat up with another groan, running a hand through his hair. When he looked down at himself, he was in some black t-shirt and his boxers, his regular clothing scattered across the floor. “What the hell…?” he grumbled, his voice hoarse. When he peered closer at the shirt, he managed to make out the title “The Gavinners”, despite its ridiculous font. 

Okay, so he didn’t remember getting this shirt, or getting into this bedroom, or taking off his clothes. The last thing Apollo remembered was getting in the cab with Klavier, still shaking from his tantrum inside the bar, too drunk to even think straight. Klavier had given the cab driver an address, alright, but…whose address? Apollo assumed Klavier recited his address for him, given that he knew where Apollo lived. But seeing as how he was in some strange bedroom – obviously not his – that couldn’t have been the case. 

Just as he was beginning to piece things together through his hung-over haze, the door clicked open, and a figure gently peeked its head through the opening. Immediately a yellow light shone in from the hallway and Apollo yelped, burrowing himself back underneath the covers. Seeing that brightness made his head ache twice as hard. “Ach, apologies,” came a smooth voice from the opening of the door, and Apollo only dared to peek his eye open. 

Klavier came into the room and shut the door again, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I was just checking up on you,” he offered softly, and Apollo sat back up. He was handed a glass of water and some Alka-Seltzer, which he gratefully accepted. “You should probably try to get a little more sleep once your headache calms down. It is still rather early.”  

“Prosecutor Gavin…?” Apollo questioned, then rephrased himself. “Klavier…? What am I…?” He took the opportunity to squint at the clock on the wall, which read that it was just after six a.m. Questions continued to float up in his head, and he voiced the first one that came to mind. “What are you doing up so early…?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo saw Klavier shift a bit on the bed, comfortably crossing his legs. “I haven’t been sleeping so well lately,” Klavier admitted, and they could both feel the atmosphere change just slightly before he added, “Plus, I wanted to see if you were making good use of my bedroom. You were a wreck last night, Herr Forehead.” 

“Yeah, well,” the other grumbled, turning to face him, “you weren’t so hot yours –” He cut himself off at the sight of the prosecutor, and he had to physically stop his jaw from dropping. Klavier’s usually well-manicured hair was pulled up lazily into a bun, and he was wearing black, thick-framed glasses. Klavier seemed to notice Apollo’s stare, and turned away slightly – wait, was that blush? 

But it was immediately replaced with an almost guilty grin. “I almost forgot that you’ve never seen me looking so…unkempt,” and he laughed at the word, a bit too loud for the morning but enthusiastic nonetheless. “Apologies again. I tend not to worry about appearances when I’m at home.” 

Apollo leaned back against the headboard, arms resting on his knees. Despite his raging headache, he felt more awake, now that he knew where he was and what was going on. “This is your apartment…?” He took an extra glance around just to reaffirm what he already knew. “It’s…nice.” Awkwardly, he looked down, and noticed he was still wearing the Gavinners t-shirt. “And…this is…?” 

“One of my shirts from our old Guilty as Charged tour,” Klavier commented idly. “You didn’t want to wear your own clothes after you showered, so I let you borrow a shirt.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but Apollo felt a deep blush sear into his cheeks. I showered here? Is there anything else I should know about last night? 

“Wh…What happened after we got into the cab?” He asked, almost afraid to know the answer. Unable to meet Klavier’s eyes, he covered his own with a hand. “I…can’t remember anything after that.” 

It was a moment before Klavier responded, and Apollo peeked through his fingers. Klavier was trying to contain laughter as he said, “Nothing, Herr Forehead, relax.” And Apollo did relax – visually, apparently, because as soon as his shoulders deflated Klavier did laugh. Apollo glared at him. “Sorry, sorry, but you were so miserable that I couldn’t bear to leave you alone. You kept going on about Fraulein Cykes and I…?” He put a lilt in the end of his sentence to indicate a question, and Apollo groaned loudly and flopped back against the bed. 

“Son of a…” cautiously, Apollo looked up, only to see that Klavier still looked amused. He sat back up, staring at his hands. Well, I might as well get this over with. “So…remember a couple months back when the three of us investigated the Themis Legal Academy trial…?” He didn’t wait for Klavier to respond, instead continuing himself. “The two of you, you worked so well together, and…” shit, the more he thought about it, the more childish it sounded. “You were flirting with her so much, it was starting to get to me. I don’t know, you just…” You just always flirted with me like that, is what he was thinking, but he couldn’t bear to finish the thought. Exasperated, he went on, “And then after we won the case, the two of you walked home together and left me alone! And Athena lied to me when I asked her what you guys talked about.” 

“…Is that so?” Klavier asked, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a grin. “Fraulein Cykes and I discussed my time as a student at Themis Legal Academy,” he listed, and Apollo felt his bracelet tighten. That’s exactly what Athena told me. What the hell was going on with these two? A rehearsed lie? At least Klavier knew how to pull it off better than she did. 

“You’re lying,” Apollo stated simply, rubbing his wrist, and Klavier simply shrugged, grinning wider. 

“So I am. What she asked was…rather personal, ja? Ah, but I suppose it’s nothing new in light of recent events,” and Klavier moved to sit up on the bed, and Apollo scooted over to give him some room. In a quieter voice, he continued, “Fraulein Cykes asked me about Herr Blackquill. She explained briefly that she had a…history with him, and that she wanted to know if I could ‘watch out for him’, as she put it.” Klavier shut his eyes, moving his bangs out of his face with one hand, but he was still smiling. “She was very concerned for him. It was quite moving.” 

Great. Apollo felt his stomach sink again after hearing Athena’s reason for lying to him. Of course she wouldn’t want to tell him about her and Prosecutor Blackquill’s history! It was jarring enough to learn about it in the context of the UR-1 retrial, but without any knowledge beforehand, it probably would have made Apollo keel over and die. His paranoia was for nothing. Athena was just worried about Blackquill. Knowing that made him feel a bit better about his situation with Klavier, but it didn’t really lessen any of the embarrassment he knew was coming. 

“…You were jealous of the two of us, Herr Forehead?” Klavier inquired, and Apollo didn’t even have to look to know that he was wearing a shit-eating grin. He could feel the blush spreading across his face again, and he refused to look. “That is…endearing,” he admitted, and Apollo gaped at him, looking over to find Klavier blushing as well, but he didn’t hide from it. He just let his grin settle into a gentle, warm smile. “You know,” he spoke, softly again, “after you fell asleep last night, I was rather shocked that you had tried to kiss me in the bar.” Ugh. He’d forgotten about that one. But what he said next was the shocking part. “I never thought you would be the one to take the initiative. I’d always figured that it would have been me, when I worked up the courage.” Klavier laughed to smooth over any awkwardness, and Apollo clutched the covers. 

“Courage…? For what?” Way to go, idiot, you know what he was getting the courage to do! This time, the voice in his head wasn’t his own, but Clay’s voice, scolding him like he was some child who had made a mess. Apollo tried not to visibly flinch at his best friend’s words in his head, but something about it was encouraging. The courage to kiss you, man. Go for it. You have nothing to be afraid of! 

Klavier just chuckled again. “You’re very oblivious, Herr Forehead. I’ve been trying to catch your eye for quite some time now,” he admitted, and though his smile radiated confidence, Apollo caught that his hand was shaking nervously. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble…could I, perhaps…” he struggled with his words, and Apollo leaned forward, genuinely intrigued in watching Klavier stutter. “I could, ah…” 

“Take me out to lunch,” Apollo finished for him, and Klavier looked startled. Apollo smiled shyly, looking down and running a hand through his limp, un-gelled hair. “I, uh, yeah, that’d be good. Maybe later, though, because I’m still kind of tired…” but when he looked back up, Klavier’s mouth was open, as if he were still shocked. 

Then he smiled, that beautiful rock star smile, except it was genuine, not the one that he had flashed at those thousands of fans while he was on stage. It looked so happy, and, if Apollo dared to call it such, love struck. Before he could think too much of it, though, Klavier was saying, “You know, you have never seen me in my glasses, but…” he reached up, tenderly flipping a strand of Apollo’s hair. “I have never seen you with your hair like this. It hides your forehead,” and he laughed, and Apollo smiled back. 

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Apollo spoke, tone a bit quieter than what was suited for the situation, “I…I think he would have liked you.” Klavier opened his mouth as if to ask who, but shut it upon realizing. Apollo still couldn’t breathe his name – if he did, he’d remember everything – but he went on. “He was actually a pretty big Gavinners fan, I think,” he admitted, “he would always call me up just to gossip about this or that. He would have flipped if he met you.” 

“He sounded like a remarkable young man,” Klavier spoke, adjusting his voice so it was just as quiet as Apollo’s, and at his words, Apollo leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Klavier in a hug. The other reciprocated, letting him fall into his arms, running a comforting hand up and down his back. “He was very lucky that he had you as a friend.” 

“Yeah,” Apollo choked out, grasping him tighter. “I was lucky, too.” 

Klavier left him after that, promising he would wake the other in a couple of hours. As Apollo laid in Klavier’s bed, surrounded by his sea of blankets, he felt safe, content almost. The soft comforter was nice, but it didn’t drown out all of the pain he knew he still felt and would feel for a while. But feeling pain was natural, and he knew that. Apollo knew that he would always miss Clay terribly, but maybe having Klavier around would make it a bit easier in the long run.