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Chapter Text

Klavier Gavin should not be here.

“‘Time of death,’” he mumbles to himself, glancing at the autopsy report as he paces around the chalk outline on the ground. “‘Yesterday, between noon and one o’clock. Cause of death was a blow to the head. Victim died instantly. Time of death, yesterday—’”

Verdammt, he read that already. Klavier groans, dragging his hand over his face. He’s been staring at the autopsy report for ten minutes now, ever since Ema and the rest of the detectives left, but the words keep swimming all over the page, jumbling up in his head. Even if you held a knife to his throat he could not tell you the victim’s name. 

He is exhausted. It is far too late in the evening for Klavier to be at a crime scene, especially when the trial is tomorrow morning. But he hasn’t had time to investigate at all during the day, too busy running around with paperwork. Nor has he had time—or desire—to rest in these past few days.

You need to take better care of yourself, Klavier, Kristoph would say, without a flicker of warmth in his tone. His face still appears engraved in the back of Klavier’ eyelids whenever he tries to sleep. A Gavin can’t stand in court in less than tiptop condition, now, can he?

Klavier shakes his head, trying to dispel his thoughts. Kristoph is gone. Now it’s recently-promoted Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth narrowing his eyes at him whenever he stays at the Prosecutor’s Office past midnight more than three times in a row. Edgeworth was the one who kicked him out, actually, telling him to go home for the day and get some rest before the trial tomorrow.

But instead, Klavier is standing outside in a cold, empty courtyard, inhaling the lingering smell of blood in the air as he flips through pictures of a dead body. 

It’s going to be a long night.

Klavier gives up on the autopsy report, closing his eyes. Maybe he’d have better luck figuring out a possible murder weapon, if he doesn’t keel over from exhaustion and become a second chalk outline next to the victim—

“Prosecutor Gavin?”

Klavier freezes. Sees his brother’s face flash again before his eyes fly open and he regains control of his muscles. A smile goes up on his face, automatic, as he turns around. “Ja?”

It’s Apollo. 

Klavier nearly loses the facade, twitching in surprise. What is Apollo doing here? Klavier hasn’t seen him in nearly a month, ever since…

He swallows. Ever since Kristoph’s second murder conviction. 

Apollo looks well, at least compared to how Klavier feels. He’s bundled up for the cool weather and his hair spikes are perking up as usual. There’s a hesitant smile on his face, though his brow furrows as he gives Klavier a once-over.

“Herr Forehead!” Klavier greets reflexively, then winces at the faux cheer in his voice. He dials it down and settles for a small nod. “Long time no see. What are you doing here?” 

Apollo shrugs as he approaches. “This courtyard’s a shortcut to my apartment. Figured I could give the crime scene one last look before the trial tomorrow.”

“I see.” Klavier nods, absently, before the rest of Apollo’s sentence registers. “Wait, the trial? You’re the attorney for tomorrow’s case?”

Apollo tilts his head. “You didn’t know?”

“I…” Klavier thinks hard, but honestly, the whole day has been a blur. He really doesn’t remember seeing Apollo’s name anywhere on the report. He clears his throat. “It must’ve slipped my mind. I’ve been quite busy today—didn’t even get to investigate until now.”

Apollo raises an eyebrow. “It’s getting late, though. You’re not headed home?”

“Ach, you know. Duty calls.” Klavier waves his hand as flippantly as he can. “But enough about work. How have you been this past month, Herr Forehead?”

“…pretty good,” Apollo says after a moment’s pause, which makes Klavier nervous, but his voice is casual enough. “No cases, really. But I’ve been helping Trucy with her magic.” 

“Wunderbar.” Klavier remembers attending one of her shows—her stage presence was absolutely electric. “Has the little Fräulein been well?”

Apollo nods, a small grin on his face. “Yeah, she’s been busy practicing ever since she got the rights to Troupe Gramarye’s magic. I wish she’d stop trying to chop me in half, though.”

Klavier laughs softly. It’s good to hear about her, he thinks with a twinge of relief. The last time he saw Trucy Wright was also at that trial, when she was learning the truth about both her fathers’ fates at Kristoph’s hands. 

At least one of his victims has made it out alright. But Klavier’s own hands twitch, and he reminds himself, my victims, too. For hammering the final nail in the coffin seven years ago. 

“What about you?” asks Apollo, snapping Klavier out of his haze. He tilts his head. “How have you been?”

He asks the question almost carefully, and Klavier straightens. He graces Apollo with his best winning smile. “So kind of you to ask, Herr Forehead. I’ve been as gut as always.”

The tired little lie slips out of his mouth effortlessly as he drops his gaze down to the autopsy report. He’s said it without thought so many times in the past few weeks—turns out waving most people off is easier with a bright grin and a bit of cheer. He can stomach their pitying looks if it means avoiding an actual confrontation about the elephant in Solitary Cell 13. 

Except Apollo is not most people.

“You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Klavier freezes. Apollo is frowning slightly at him, hand wrapped around the odd gold bracelet around his wrist. And his eyes…

He’s seen this multiple times in the courtroom, Apollo’s unwavering gaze of steel pinned onto a lying witness. How could he forget something like this, especially after that last trial? But seeing it from the prosecutor’s bench is nothing like having the full brunt of Apollo’s eyes on him, piercing through his paper-thin excuses and into his soul.

“I…” Klavier struggles to recompose himself. “I’m not lying. Really. No need to worr—”

“You’re fidgeting.” Apollo’s voice is soft. Tentative. But his words, and his gaze, are still firm. “Picking at your nails, specifically.”

The rest of what Klavier was going to say gets sucked out his lungs as if he’s been punched. He jerks his gaze down, and sure enough, he’s fiddling with his fingers, a movement so small he hadn’t even noticed it himself. He quickly drops his hand down to his side, curling it into a fist.

The night after that trial, Klavier had gone straight home and scraped off every last bit of Ariadoney gloss on his nails. He had bought the bottle himself—there was no way Kristoph could’ve gone to this one, too—but he still rubbed in the nail polish remover so hard that his skin felt raw for hours.

It’s how he feels now as well. Raw, too worn out for fear but not enough for numbness. He keeps his eyes down on the ground, unable to meet Apollo’s gaze. 

The gravel underneath crunches as Apollo shifts on his feet. “Gavin…”

Klavier swallows. “Don’t.” Is it possible to get sick of hearing your own name? “What is it you’re always saying before trials? I’m fi—”

“Klavier,” Apollo says, instead, and Klavier inhales, eyes involuntarily flicking upward. “I’m…I’m not going to force you to talk about it, okay? Especially not to me. But I just want you to know it’s okay if you’re not fine.”

Klavier doesn’t know how to respond. Apollo’s eyes on him have dried out his throat—the wide, honest, open gaze that strikes a chord in Klavier’s soul.

It takes a few more moments for him to regain control of his vocal tract. “I-I don’t blame you for what you did, Herr Forehead. It was necessary.”

“I know,” Apollo says plainly. “And you don’t have to blame yourself. You weren’t aware of what Mr. Gavin was doing.”

Klavier wants to be reassured by that, he really does. “But I should’ve known . He was—is mein Bruder.”   The ground suddenly feels unsteady beneath his feet, churning like the thoughts he had tried so hard to suppress in the past month. 

Seven years. Seven whole years, and he hadn’t suspected a single thing. Kristoph had banked on that.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he feels Apollo touch his shoulder. He’s startlingly close now—his eyes are nearly overwhelming. “Klavier…”

“I…” Klavier shudders. He debates shrugging Apollo’s hand off, but the touch feels grounding. “Es tut mir leid, Herr Forehead, that was awfully unprofessional of me.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who’s calling me ‘Herr Forehead’ in the same breath,” Apollo says wryly, but there’s quiet reassurance in his tone. “It’s fine, don’t apologize. And, uh…” He holds out something with his other hand. “ You dropped the autopsy report, by the way.”

“O-oh. Danke.” Klavier hadn’t even realized his hands were empty. He quickly takes the papers back. “Can’t lose this before the tri—”

“I can give you the details of what I found,” Apollo interrupts. “In my own investigation today. So you don’t have to stay out here.”

Klavier looks up sharply. Apollo seems almost as surprised as he is by the words out of his own mouth. “Was? But I’m the enemy.”

“Er.” Apollo scratches the back of his head. “Well, I’m not giving up my trump card, but I still want to help you. You look exhausted—I don’t think investigating right now will do you any good. No offense to your prosecutorial skills.”

Klavier opens his mouth, then closes it. A voice in the back of his head whispers for him to refuse the offer, to wave him off with another smile and get it all under his own control. 

Except Apollo sounds so genuine. After the truth came to light last month, Klavier was afraid that everyone involved would never want to see him again. The seething rage in Kristoph’s eyes as they escorted him away only solidified that terror. But here Apollo is, meeting Klavier head-on without a single shred of resentment. How does he do that?

“Danke sehr,” Klavier says finally. “Really. It means a lot, Apollo.”

The first name slips out almost unconsciously. Apollo blinks at him. “Oh. D-don’t mention it.” He coughs, holding out his phone. “So, uh, can I have your number? I’ll text you the info when I get home.”

“How forward of you, Herr Forehead.” Klavier doesn’t mean to tease, but the atmosphere feels so heavy that the words come naturally as he reaches forward.

And seeing Apollo grumble is always endearing. “Oh, so now I’m ‘Herr Forehead’ again, huh? Never mind, maybe I won’t help you after all.”

But he still deposits the phone into Klavier’s outstretched hand. Their fingers brush slightly in the exchange, and Klavier feels his heart stutter traitorously at the contact. He ducks his head down to type in his number, willing the sensation away—he’s had enough tangled emotions for tonight. 

“Ach, you wound me,” Klavier jokes to cover up the strange feeling, returning the phone.

Apollo rolls his eyes as he pockets it. “You’ll live.” Then he looks at Klavier, his gaze serious again. “Go home. Not the Prosecutor’s Office. And get some sleep for tomorrow.”

Even if Klavier wanted to stop by the office, Edgeworth would dock his salary upon seeing him again tonight. “Ja, I know. I will.”

“And…” Apollo touches his bracelet. His next words come quieter. “If you ever wanna talk about what happened, you can text me for that, too. I’ll listen.”

Klavier inhales. He…isn’t ready. He doesn’t think he will be for a while. But there’s so much sincerity in Apollo’s voice, his eyes, that Klavier can’t help but nod, heart in his throat. “I-I’ll consider it.”

“Cool. Great.” Apollo lifts his hand with a small wave of his fingers. “See you tomorrow, then, Klavier?”

Is that going to be a thing, now, hearing his first name from Apollo’s lips? It’s not a bad feeling. “Wir sehen uns dann, Apollo.”

Apollo gives him one last smile before he’s off, following the path out of the courtyard. Klavier stays for a moment longer—to give the crime scene one last look, he tells himself, but he finds his eyes lingering on Apollo’s retreating figure until he turns the corner and disappears.

But Klavier is still true to his word. He tucks the autopsy report under his arm, turns around, and starts on his way home as well, feeling another smile—not forced, this time—spread across his lips.

He honestly misses it, facing Apollo in court. Even if Klavier ends up losing again tomorrow, Apollo will find the truth. Klavier knows he will.

And in the aftermath of seven years of lies, that certainty is just what Klavier needs.

Chapter Text

The next day, Klavier loses, but not without a fight. Apollo approaches him after the trial with an invitation to Eldoon’s Noodles, and just like that, they fall easily into a pattern of what Klavier hopes to call friendship—as friendly as a prosecutor and defense attorney could be without becoming a conflict of interest in the courtroom, at least. 

They text a lot. About everything from Apollo’s cat to Lamiroir’s latest music, but Klavier stays away from heavier subjects, and Apollo doesn’t bring them up either. Still, it helps. It’s nice to focus on something other than paperwork and murders. Klavier even picks up his guitar for the first time in weeks—not to write songs, not yet, but there’s just… something about seeing Apollo that makes Klavier’s hands itch to make a melody. 

He’s not sure what it is yet. And it takes a few more months before Klavier gets to feel it again, anyway, when he gets a different kind of text from Apollo:

herr forehead [2:23]: hey trucy’s performing at the wonder bar tonight 

herr forehead [2:23]: wanna come?

Klavier nearly drops the decades-old case files he’s sorting when he reads the messages, immediately reaching for his phone. But he hesitates once it's in his hands, giving the invitation another look.

He really would like to talk to Apollo face-to-face again. They don't actually see each other that often, aside from occasionally passing one another in the courthouse. Work keeps them both busy, and Apollo has been mostly dealing with the Payne brothers, according to the annoyed texts Klavier receives about them.

This week, though, things have been slow at the Prosecutor's Office. He could definitely make it tonight.

Still...Klavier feels slightly uneasy as he glances at Trucy's name, guilt stirring in his gut. Apollo has mentioned Trucy a lot in their conversations, but Klavier still hasn’t seen her since Kristoph’s trial. He’s not entirely sure about how Trucy feels about him and everything that happened. She’s a bright young girl; they got along well before the dominoes started falling in the Misham trial. She didn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge, but Klavier definitely wouldn't blame her if she did.

His fingers hover hesitantly over the screen. It would be impolite to decline, right? Foolish, too, because most of Klavier wants to go, to see Apollo and the magic tricks he's been gushing about in their conversations. Besides, deciding Trucy's feelings towards him before seeing evidence of resentment or letting her testify, so to speak, is unfair to her. 

Making up his mind, Klavier types up his response.

klavier [2:29]: ja, sicher. what time?

Apollo replies almost immediately.

herr forehead [2:29]: 8 pm

klavier [2:29]: i’ll be there :-)

Klavier gets a thumbs-up emoji and a picture of Mikeko in response. He smiles, saving it. He can't wait to see Apollo again, really. As for Trucy...he should figure out something nice for her. A present, perhaps—it’s the least he could do after everything.

A knock on his door startles him out of his thoughts. "Gavin?"

It's Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth. Klavier quickly shuts off his phone, but Edgeworth is already raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hard at work, I see," he says drily. Klavier flushes as he continues. "Do you happen to have the evidence list for State v. Gillman? Prosecutor Debeste is asking for it."

"Ja, it's here." Klavier pats the stack of papers on his desk. "I'll send it over once I'm done digitizing everything."

Edgeworth nods. "Alright. Keep up the good work." With that, he disappears through the doorway, leaving Klavier alone again.

Klavier exhales, setting his phone aside. The files aren't going to sort themselves, and he needs to finish quickly if he wants to be out in time for the show.

But even the dullness of paperwork doesn't dampen the excitement he feels as the hours go by.

He meets Apollo outside the Wonder Bar ten minutes to eight.

“Hey, Klavier,” Apollo greets. He’s in his same old red suit, but Klavier’s heart still flutters at the sight of him. “Nice flowers.”

“Ah, danke.” Klavier lifts the bouquet of roses with a flourish. He stopped by the florist’s shop earlier to pick them up. “They aren’t for you, Herr Forehead. Don’t be too disappointed.”

Apollo rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not.” A smile twitches on his lips. “I’m sure Trucy will love them, though. You can give it to her after the show.”

“I understand.” Klavier feels a small pulse of anxiety, but he pushes it down with a teasing grin. “Why aren’t you backstage with her? I was hoping to see you get sawed in half tonight.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Apollo grumbles. “C’mon, let’s head inside.”

His shoulder brushes against Klavier’s as he walks past him. Klavier wills his heart rate to slow down and follows him through the door.

The Wonder Bar is a cozy place. A bit far from Klavier’s home, so he’s not a frequent patron. But Apollo is, and he guides them to seats right next to the stage, apparently saved by a bartender he’s friendly with. 

“It’s going to be great,” Apollo says as they sit down. He’s in such a good mood that he even lets Klavier pay for both their drinks while they talk. “She’s improved so much. She used to perform here every night, you know, but she took a break to practice new tricks. The new show will blow you away, seriously.” 

His excitement is incredibly endearing. Klavier chuckles, taking a sip from his drink. “I look forward to it. Fräulein Wright never disappoints, after all.”

Apollo laughs. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He looks over at him and smiles, so dazzling that Klavier momentarily forgets how to breathe. “Thanks for coming, Klavier. She’ll be glad to see you here.”

Klavier blinks. He opens his mouth to respond…except he has no idea what he’s going to say, because all he can focus on are Apollo’s disarmingly honest eyes, his wide and open smile, the way he curls his hand around his glass just a few inches from Klavier’s own.

He’s saved from any potential embarrassment, though, because right at that moment, the lights around them dim. Apollo immediately perks up, eyes snapping to the stage.

“It’s starting!” he exclaims, and Klavier looks up, too, holding his breath as he searches for a sign of the woman of the hour. 

A booming voice sounds over the speakers. “Everyone, please welcome back tonight’s fan-favorite act, the up-and-coming magician we’ve all missed these past few months… Truuuucyyyy Wright!”

The crowd erupts into cheers—Apollo and Klavier among the loudest—and Trucy Wright materializes into the limelight.

Apollo wasn’t lying, not that Klavier ever expected him to. Trucy is amazing, even better than when Klavier last saw her on the stage, her voice and smile filling the room with enough energy to light up the world.

She’s a true natural. From one performer to another, Klavier recognizes it in the brightness of her gaze, the flourish of her movements as she disappears and reappears across the stage, flinging handkerchiefs and summoning bunnies. The whole time, he can’t take his eyes off her.

The show comes to a close too soon, to raucous applause from the crowd. Apollo immediately jumps to his feet for a standing ovation, and Klavier and the rest of the audience follow suit eagerly.

Trucy looks ecstatic. She bows, beaming with pride, and Klavier suddenly feels… light, almost, like a weight is off his shoulders. He’s relieved for her. She’s been so strong, these past few years, her family torn apart in the Zak Gramarye trial by—

Not Klavier. Kristoph and his schemes.

And she’s still risen above it all, to become the best performer Klavier has ever seen.

Once Trucy has vanished from the stage with a final flourish, the crowd begins to disperse, still murmuring excitedly. Apollo turns to Klavier, face flushed and wearing a smile almost identical to Trucy’s. “That was amazing! She was amazing, right?”

Klavier chuckles. “Ja, absolutely erstaunlich. That switch with Mr. Hat at the end—”

“Yeah, she practiced that one the most.” Apollo looks so proud. Trucy really does have the best support, Klavier thinks to himself. “I’m going to go meet her backstage to congratulate her. Do you want to come? You can give her the roses.”

“Of course.” Klavier picks up the bouquet again, and they make their way through the crowd. One of the perks about his break from the musical world—he gets recognized a lot less in public, and no one disrupts him as they make their way to the backstage entrance. Apollo talks to one of the bodyguards and they’re quickly let in. 

Right at that moment, though, a phone begins to ring. Klavier stumbles into a stop as he recognizes the first few notes—it’s the intro to “My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness.” 

Apollo immediately yelps, reaching into his pocket, and Klavier realizes it’s his phone. He raises an eyebrow, incredulous.

“I thought you didn’t like our songs, Herr Forehead.”

“S-shut up!” Apollo jabs his finger stubbornly into the screen, and the song gets cut off right before Klavier’s first verse. A shame, really. “I don’t. But my friend does, and he forced me to make this his ringtone.”

Klavier laughs. “No need to be embarrassed. Tell your friend he has good taste.”

“I will not,” Apollo grumbles. He glances up, a little sheepish. “But I, uh, should probably call him back. Just in case. Sorry, can I—?” 

Klavier waves his hand. “Go ahead, Herr Forehead. I’ll let Trucy know.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.” Apollo lifts his phone to his ear as he walks back to the door. “Hey, Clay…”

He exits, leaving Klavier alone in the hallway. Klavier clutches the bouquet tighter, suddenly aware of the lingering anxiety in his chest.  

It’s just Fräulein Wright, he tells himself. You’ll be fine. He can say it now with far more truth than he did months ago. He has been getting better, thanks to Apollo, and it’s time for him to face everyone without fear. 

A door creaks open on the other end of the hall. 

“Prosecutor Gavin!” 

Klavier turns. Trucy is bouncing up to him, waving excitedly. Her joy is infectious—Klavier immediately feels his worries melt away, a smile breaking on his face.

“Ah, Fräulein Wright. Your show was ausgezeichnet.” He hands over the roses. “This is for you.”

Trucy gasps, eagerly hugging the bouquet to her chest. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! These are going to look so pretty next to Charley!” She beams up at him effortlessly. “Thank you! And thank you so much for coming tonight, too. It’s nice to see you again, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Klavier says, easily slipping into casual conversation. “Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth has us all hard at work at the Prosecutor’s Office.” 

“Yeah, Papa’s like that,” Trucy laughs, and he’s reminded that, right—she’s essentially his boss’ daughter, considering Edgeworth’s relationship to Phoenix Wright. It’s strange to think about. “Where’s Polly, by the way?”

“Taking a phone call, he’ll be back soon.” Klavier chuckles. “He was very excited about your performance today.”

Trucy grins. “Yeah, Polly’s my number one fan. It’s been kinda hard, the past few months, but he’s been supporting me through all this.” At Klavier’s guilty expression, she immediately puts her hand up. “Don’t apologize, Prosecutor Gavin. It’s like Polly’s been saying—it’s not your fault.” 

Klavier shifts on his feet. “He told you about that?”

“Mhm.” Trucy nods, solemn. “I was worried about you, you know. After the Misham trial.”

He blinks in surprise. “Y-you were?”

“My daddy and your brother—they were both involved in the case seven years ago.” Trucy’s voice quivers a little, but she meets his gaze head-on. “Polly was also pretty worried. He was really glad he got to talk to you.”

“I see.” Klavier ducks his head, feeling embarrassed but…touched, too. “Don’t be worried, though, Fräulein. Things have been improving.”

“That’s good!” Trucy exclaims. “Same here. Apollo is helping you too, right?”

Klavier feels his face heat up a little. “Ja, we’ve been talking quite a bit recently. I’m very glad he’s my friend.” He glances up to give her a smile, but—

Trucy is staring at him, dark eyes pinned onto him in a gaze so intense he feels like a deer in the headlights. It’s…familiar, actually. So eerily familiar that he nearly does a double take. 

She looks exactly like Apollo when he stares someone down—Klavier almost expects her to magically manifest a golden bracelet of her own to fiddle with. Instead, she just readjusts her gloves without breaking eye contact. She would make an extraordinarily good lawyer.

“‘Friend’?” Trucy echoes after a long pause, cocking her head. Her expression is unreadable. “Are you sure?”

“Huh?” That…was not what he was expecting her to say. He inexplicably feels his cheeks heat up. “O-of course I’m sure. I’m grateful for all Herr Forehead has done. I…” He looks her up and down, confused. “I’m not lying.”

“No, I trust you about that, Prosecutor Gavin.” Trucy says it like there’s no room for doubt. “But you are hiding something…so that must mean…” She gasps, hand flying to her mouth. “Ohhhhh!”

Should Klavier be concerned? He is rapidly losing grasp of this conversation. He glances at her, a little pleadingly. “I-I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Trucy’s eyes have lit up, and she looks like she’s fighting back a grin. “You mean you haven’t realized?”

“Realized what?”

Trucy glances around. Klavier follows her gaze, but they’re alone—Apollo is still busy with his friend, it seems. Then Trucy looks back at him, smiles from ear-to-ear, and stage-whispers, “That you like- like Polly! As in more than a friend!”

It takes a few seconds for her words to sink in. Then Klavier chokes. “W-was?”

He thinks it’s a joke, at first. But Trucy is still looking at him, eyes wide and expecting, and whatever reply or retort or denial he has dies on his tongue.

He… likes Apollo? Well, he’s certainly always been attracted to him, in a way. Apollo sure did command attention with his bright red suit and loud voice and steely stare. He was captivating in a courtroom, and Klavier found he never felt upset whenever he lost to him. It helped that Apollo was cute, too. Endearing. 

But more than a friend?

Klavier feels his face get warmer by the second. This is ridiculous. He is twenty-four years old, an internationally renowned rock star with years of romantic experience and flirting with his large female following. He should not be blushing furiously over being told he “like-likes” someone, and yet…

He can’t deny that he’s been getting closer to Apollo these past few months—he is no longer just a fascinating rival on the other side of the courtroom, not when he’s bleeding so easily into Klavier’s daily life, his waking thoughts. Far more than Klavier’s coworkers and friends. And seeing Apollo again today...that feeling is back: the fluttering excitement in his chest that makes Klavier’s fingers long for a melody.

Oh.

Oh, Scheiße. Klavier is an idiot.

An idiot, it seems, who is in love with Apollo Justice. 

Trucy must’ve read the dawning realization in his eyes, because she finally fills in the silence between them. “Don’t worry, Prosecutor Gavin. Your secret is safe with me!” She winks mischievously. “But if you’re ever thinking about making it not a secret…”

“A-ah.” Klavier finally remembers how to speak, though he doesn’t know what to say. “Fräulein, I—”

“Trucy!”

Apollo appears in the doorway, and Klavier immediately snaps his mouth shut, mortified. Luckily, Apollo seems completely oblivious to Klavier’s internal gay panic, turning his sparkling eyes to Trucy. “Sorry for disappearing, Clay called. You were awesome out there tonight!”

Trucy shifts gears instantly and beams at him. “Thank you, Polly! I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” Apollo says, squeezing Trucy’s shoulder. He glances between her and Klavier. “What were you guys talking about while I was gone?”

“Secrets!” Trucy says, straight-faced. Klavier can barely choke down an embarrassed yelp. “But you know I can’t reveal those.”

“Yeah, yeah, typical magician stuff.” Apollo says, blissfully ignorant. He glances at the clock, then winces. “Oh, shoot, I have to send Trucy home now. She has school tomorrow.”

“Aw, really? I wanted us to talk to Prosecutor Gavin more!” Trucy exclaims. Klavier can hear the grin in her voice.

Apollo frowns. “I promised Mr. Wright I’d get you home before ten. Go get your stuff, Trucy, we have to leave.”

Klavier attempts to put on a normal expression, ignoring the way his heart still thumps rapidly in his chest. “Don’t worry, Fräulein. I have to be on my way as well. We can talk next time, ja?”

“Ja,” Trucy chirps, holding out the bouquet. “Polly, can you hold this as I pack up my props?”

“Sure.” Apollo takes it, looking at Klavier again and making it very difficult for Klavier’s heart to calm down. “We’re gonna head into the dressing room now. See you in court?”

“Of course,” Klavier says, and Gott, Apollo’s little smile is going to kill him.

“Bye, Prosecutor Gavin!” Trucy waves. “Thanks again for the roses!”

Klavier waves back, and Trucy and Apollo disappear into the dressing room. He turns around as soon as they’re gone, hurrying out of the backstage area and weaving through the dispersed crowd.

The fresh night breeze hits his face as he steps outside, but it doesn’t help cool the fierce heat that still blazes in his cheeks. He slows down next to his motorcycle, staring blankly into the street.

Well. On one hand, it had been lovely to talk to Trucy again, to unpack the lingering feeling of guilt in his chest. On the other hand, more feelings have come to replace it—feelings for Apollo.

Klavier resists the urge to bury his face into his hands as he hops onto his motorcycle.

He can’t wait to get home and scream into his pillow tonight.

Chapter Text

Klavier does his best to...not bury the memory of that conversation, per se, but tuck it away in a corner of his mind where he can’t reach it. 

This doesn’t have to change anything, he tells himself. He may know how to use his voice on the stage and in the courtroom, but he can keep quiet when the need arises. It’s too uncertain, right now. He doesn’t know how Apollo would react—Apollo had never once reciprocated his flirting, just rolling his eyes whenever Klavier turned on his charm around fans. He has the vague feeling a straightforward, private person like Apollo wouldn’t want to date him, a renowned rock star, anyway. Ruining what they have right now by professing his feelings would be unthinkable.

So Klavier tries not to think about it. He talks to Apollo as usual and even gets Trucy’s number from him. Despite her occasional teasing about aforementioned feelings, she’s great to talk to. He sends her short covers of her favorite songs and she replies with embarrassing pictures of Apollo.

It’s comforting. Kristoph had left a gaping hole in the past seven years of Klavier’s life, but he has Trucy and Apollo now to help fill in the spaces. 

Still…nothing quite prepares him for unexpectedly facing Phoenix Wright for the first time in nearly six months.

“Oh,” Phoenix says when he opens the door to the Wright Anything Agency’s office, surprise clear on his face. “Hey, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“H-Herr Wright,” Klavier stammers. He’d been expecting Apollo to be here—he said that he’s usually in at this time, and that Phoenix is rarely around in the morning. 

But the most surprising thing is Phoenix’s appearance. His hair is no longer hidden under that beanie of his. Instead, it’s gelled back into sharp, perfect spikes that Klavier hasn’t seen in years. He’s even clean-shaven. He almost looks like a completely different person. 

“Do you want to, uh, come in?” Phoenix asks after an awkward silence. Klavier jerkily nods, and Phoenix steps inside to let him enter.

The office is cluttered with magic props, strewn all over the floor and the couch. Klavier cringes a little at the messiness, but it is almost charming, in a way. Trucy’s influence is obvious even in her absence. He spots Apollo’s desk in the back, its own mess of case files; there’s a Bum Rap Rhiny figurine in the corner, which is adorable. Klavier makes a mental note to tease Apollo about that later.

“Looking for Apollo?” Phoenix asks, and Klavier jumps. Phoenix is keeping a respectful distance away, watching him curiously. Klavier feels his face flush. Is he that obvious?

“J-ja,” he stutters. “He’s not here?”

“Nah, sorry. He just left. I sent him to buy a new toilet brush for the agency.”

Ah. Klavier feels a little foolish. Maybe he should’ve texted instead of coming all the way here—all he wanted was to ask if Apollo wanted to eat lunch at the new Chinese place near People Park. But wandering out of the Prosecutor Office during lunch break, he was struck with a sudden desire to see Apollo in-person. 

(And for all of Klavier’s conviction to keep quiet on those feelings of his, he can’t quite bring himself to cut them off at their source.) 

“Sorry to bother you, then,” Klavier says, attempting a smile despite his nerves. Even though Phoenix is still in that old gray hoodie, he seems so much more intimidating with his hair done up. It’s the signature look that was plastered all over news articles about the Turnabout Terror—at least, up until that Gramarye trial seven years ago. 

It takes him a second to realize he’s staring. He averts his gaze, but it’s too late.

Phoenix chuckles. “Hey, don’t worry. No shame in gawking. Even I’ve forgotten what I looked like without the hat Trucy made for me.” He touches his hair. “If you want to know, I’m retaking the bar soon. Have to start looking presentable again.”

…oh. Klavier now feels about a hundred times worse. He swallows. “I-I see. Congratulations.” He winces as the words leave his mouth. But what is the appropriate response to someone getting his life back after you played a part, albeit unknowingly, in ruining it?

“Thanks.” Phoenix’s eyes soften. “Prosecutor Gavin, I know that look. You don’t have to say anything else. I don’t blame you for what happened—I never did.”

Klavier stares. He still can’t make sense of it, no matter how much he’s talked to Apollo and Trucy. Seven years of Phoenix Wright’s life, gone, because of a forged diary page and a tip-off from Klavier’s brother. But true to his word, there’s not a hint of resentment in Phoenix’s gaze.

After a pause, Phoenix goes on. “Besides, you helped Apollo during the Misham trial. That was brave of you. If Trucy and I and everyone else involved did hate you, that would’ve been more than enough to make us forgive you. So it’s fine, really.”

“I…” Klavier ducks his head. Phoenix sounds sincere, and Klavier feels a little embarrassed at how apprehensive and doubtful he’s been. “I was just doing my job.”

“Well, most prosecutors in this district still aren’t aware that their jobs are about truth instead of victory,” Phoenix says wryly. “You’re one of the good ones. And Edgeworth, of course. I appreciate that.” 

Phoenix Wright, with or without his badge, might be one of the most honest lawyers in the country. Klavier nods shakily. “Danke, Herr Wright.”

“Of course.” Phoenix smiles at him. “What did you say you wanted with Apollo, again? I can pass on a message to him if you want.”

Klavier...didn’t actually say anything yet. His cheeks burn. This is quite unprofessional, barging into an attorney’s office for such a casual affair, even if that office is strewn with magical props and playing cards. And Phoenix might take it the wrong way—Klavier came here to ask, completely platonically, Apollo to lunch, but Phoenix might assume something more, considering how he’s already noticed Klavier’s intentions, and Apollo wouldn’t appreciate that, especially with his boss. 

So maybe it would be better to come up with some other excuse. He turns, readying to leave. “Ach, it’s nothing urgent. I just wanted to discuss a case with Herr Forehead, I’ll go—”

Phoenix suddenly yelps, cutting him off. “Uh—”

Klavier whirls around, startled, and sees shock flicker in Phoenix’s gaze as he stares at...no, not quite at, almost around Klavier? He recovers quickly, but Klavier still notices the tension in his shoulders.

Unease shoots through him. “Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Phoenix clears his throat, not taking his scrutinizing eyes off Klavier. “Can you say that again?”

Klavier stares, bewildered. “...‘I’ll go now’?”

Phoenix waves his hand. “No, no, before that. About Apollo.”

“Oh.” Klavier’s palms start to sweat. He gets the feeling he’s digging himself in a hole. “Apollo was talking to me about a case. I just came by to see if he wanted help on it.”

“Weird,” Phoenix mutters under his breath. “Why would…”

“I’m sorry?” 

Phoenix scrunches his nose, like he’s deep in thought. His fingers twitch, and Klavier catches a glimpse of something green in his hand before his fist covers it again. 

“Actually,” Phoenix says after a long moment, “why don’t you take a seat and wait here? Apollo should be back before long.”

Klavier searches Phoenix’s expression. It’s schooled back into a friendly smile, but his eyes are still darting around him slightly, his gaze intense. Complete with that spiked-up hair, Phoenix looks like he’s ready to cross-examine him—Klavier gets the sense that he’s not really asking.

So he tentatively nods, settling down on the couch. Seeing Apollo later would make this all worth it, he tells himself. At least he hopes so.

Phoenix sits down across from him, eyes glued to him the whole time. It’s unnerving. Klavier distantly remembers Apollo mentioning that Phoenix plays poker, which doesn’t make him feel better.

“So,” Phoenix says, his tone carefully casual. “What case did Apollo say he wanted help on? I thought he didn’t have any ongoing cases right now.”

Verdammt. Good job, Klavier, lying so obviously to the Turnabout Terror five minutes after making amends with him.  

“I-is that so…?” he says, trying not to wince and probably failing very badly. 

“Yeah. Even when he does take cases without telling me, I know by how long he stays in the office, and he asked me if he could leave early yesterday.”

“Well,” Klavier starts, then shuts his mouth. Okay, he’s got nothing. He can’t argue with Apollo’s boss about that. “O-of course I knew that. Es tut mir leid, I must’ve misspoke.”

A look of triumph flits across Phoenix’s face. “One down,” he mutters to himself, seemingly staring at…Klavier’s left shoulder? His palm opens again, and Klavier finally gets a good look at the object in his hand—a green, comma-shaped stone that glows softly on his skin. It looks strange. 

Klavier should probably stop talking, but his pride won’t let him concede completely just yet. He coughs, trying to recover. “I mean to discuss one of my ongoing cases with him.”

At least this is something Phoenix would find harder to disprove, and technically true—Klavier has been having a little bit of difficulty with prosecuting his current case, and talking about it with Apollo later might help. He would take at least that small victory against the Turnabout Terror.

Phoenix raises an eyebrow at him, folding his hands together. “Yeah? Is it about the recent string of bank robberies? Edgeworth mentioned something like that yesterday.”

Ach. It is. Maybe that victory is even smaller than he thought, considering Phoenix is close with the district’s Chief Prosecutor. Klavier nods awkwardly. 

“Hmm,” Phoenix says, giving Klavier the vague sense that he’s just humoring him. “Well, what about me? I could help you if you want. Got three years of experience before disbarment and lots of time on my hands.”

“Ah…” This conversation is getting away from him fast. Klavier looks desperately at the clock. Hopefully Apollo will be back sooner rather than later. “Nein, danke. T-the details are still unclear, Herr Forehead just wanted to know a few basic things.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “Alright then. Though I don’t think Edgeworth would be very happy you’re giving out this information—isn’t it supposed to be confidential?” 

“No, I just…” Klavier scrambles to come up with something. “I’m not giving away that much. Besides, don’t you and Herr Edgeworth consult each other on cases?”

Okay, it’s not his strongest deflection. He grimaces a little. 

Phoenix laughs. “Well, not really. It’s mostly me pestering him for help, actually, and even being married to him only makes him do it like, half the time—”

He abruptly pauses, eyes lighting up like he’s just had a new theory. The new gleam in his gaze as he touches that green stone again is…a little terrifying. It reminds Klavier of Trucy’s eyes when she had that revelation weeks ago, which only serves to scare him even more. What is it with resemblances amongst everyone in the Wright Anything Agency? 

“Um,” Klavier says, desperately wondering if it’s too late or impolite to walk out the door now. “Herr Wright—”

“Okay,” Phoenix mutters, perhaps half to himself, “maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but…it would explain…”

“Herr Wright,” Klavier tries again, but Phoenix is staring at the wall, seeming lost in his own world. 

It takes a few more seconds for him to glance back, and his gaze is even more intense than before. Klavier shrinks back a little as Phoenix straightens, stares directly into his eyes, and calmly states, “Prosecutor Gavin. Are you dating my employee?”

Klavier’s brain screeches to a halt. Then it reboots, finally processes the question, and punches his soul straight out of his body.

He can’t breathe. Approximately a thousand different words, most of them curses, get stuck in his throat at once, but all he can manage is feeble coughing as he doubles over. 

Scheiße, he wants to die. So much for trying to avoid this conversation. 

“Whoops,” he distantly hears Phoenix mutter. “Uh, fuck, do you want—water? Sorry if that was too far.”

“That—” Klavier wheezes, “—is an understatement.”

“Sorry,” Phoenix says again. At least he has the tact to sound apologetic. When Klavier finally manages to look back up, Phoenix’s impassive facade has crumbled, his head ducked sheepishly. “I was just throwing theories out there.”

Klavier’s face burns hotter than Lamiroir’s guitar in his hands. He opens his mouth, desperate to say something, anything that’ll change the subject, but instead all he manages is a shaky, “W-what made you think that?”

Phoenix raises his hands. “Hey, I know firsthand that defense-prosecutorial relationships are a possibility. Besides, you two just seem…” He makes a vague gesture Klavier has no idea how to interpret. “And Trucy tells me you’ve been texting a lot.”

Ja, Klavier can imagine her saying it, with an innocent little smile. He flushes, hoping word of this conversation doesn’t get to her. 

“Well?” Phoenix asks after a pause. “You haven’t denied it yet.”

“W-we’re not!” Klavier nearly shouts, his voice cracking a little. Gott, he does not sound convincing. Even though it’s true. His heart aches a little, but he pushes the feeling away. “Apollo and I are friends.”

“...I see,” Phoenix says slowly. “Still, I take it you’re not here because of a case?” 

Klavier winces. No use in hiding that, now.

“Nein,” he admits. “It’s not work-related. I just wanted to invite Apollo out for lunch—” At Phoenix’s look, he quickly adds, “N-not as a date! But es tut mir leid, Herr Wright, I know it’s unprofessional—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Phoenix rubs the back of his head. “I’m pretty sure you can tell by the state of my office—I don’t really care about professionality. I get it, but you didn’t have to, uh, lie.”

Embarrassment crawls up his spine. “R-right.”

“Do you…” Phoenix tilts his head. “Do you want it to be a date, though?”

Klavier chokes again, and for once he’s glad, because otherwise an anguished wail would’ve come out of his throat. 

“Oookay, I’m just going to—” Phoenix finally lets go of that green stone, tossing it on the couch cushion next to him. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t push it anymore. That last Psyche-lock seems like it's not my business.”

“L-last—huh?”

Phoenix ignores him. “I don’t care what you and Apollo have going on. Just don’t distract him too much. He’s my most hardworking employee.” He glances at the clock. “Actually, he should be back soon eno—”

The door swings open behind him.

“Hey, Mr. Wright, I’m ba— Klavier?”

Apollo stops dead in the doorway, a brand-new toilet brush in hand and his brow furrowed in shock as he meets Klavier’s gaze. Klavier instantly feels his heart go into overdrive. 

“Speak of the devil.” Phoenix turns around, raising an eyebrow at Apollo. “‘Klavier,’ huh?”

Klavier prays his face isn’t still red as Apollo sputters, “Wait, you were talking about me?”

“Prosecutor Gavin dropped by,” Phoenix says casually. “We were just passing the time.”

“H-hallo, Herr Forehead,” Klavier manages, attempting to smile like everything’s fine.

“Hey,” Apollo says, setting down the toilet brush. Now that some of the surprise has dissipated, his eyes are warm. “What are you doing here exactly?”

Klavier’s face is definitely still red. “Ach…” He can’t lie again, considering how horribly that failed against Phoenix. But also he absolutely cannot ask Apollo to lunch right now, not when his heart is beating so fast in his chest and the thought of dating is floating dangerously in the front of his mind.

“Hey, Apollo,” Phoenix interrupts mercifully. He shoots another glance at the clock. “Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” 

Apollo frowns. “Now? But it’s still half an hour early.”

Phoenix waves his hand. “It’s fine. Today’s a slow day anyway. Go have fun, you’ve been doing paperwork all morning.” He stands, dusting off his pants. “I’m gonna go make a few calls. See you. And good talk, Prosecutor Gavin.”

It takes Klavier all his willpower to stop himself from burying his head in his hands as Phoenix wanders off into the side office, shutting the door behind him. 

Silence falls over the room. Klavier is almost scared to turn around to face Apollo—oh Gott, what if he overheard Klavier and Phoenix’s conversation from the hallway? Klavier would literally just up and move back to Germany in an instant. He opens his mouth, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation. “Herr F—” 

“Do you want to grab lunch together?” Apollo asks suddenly. Klavier clamps his mouth shut in surprise, stifling a yelp that Apollo thankfully doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles, a little awkwardly, at Klavier. “Since you’re here, anyway. I heard there’s a new Chinese restaurant nearby. I was gonna go with Trucy, but she’s busy at rehearsal. I think there’s a discount if you go with a friend.”

That was…exactly the place Klavier wanted to invite him to. His heart flutters a little. He inhales, trying to stay calm, and puts on a grin. “That’s cold, Herr Forehead. Using me just for a discount?”

Apollo rolls his eyes at him. “Hey, I’m not going to pass up a chance for a cheap meal. So are you in or not?”

Months ago, if Apollo had asked that upfront, Klavier would’ve instead teased, How forward! You’ll make all the Fräuleins jealous, Herr Forehead, enjoying the way Apollo would sputter in embarrassment. But in light of these… feelings, jokes like that feel way too close to Klavier’s true heart. 

Besides, Klavier isn’t stupid—he heard the word Apollo used. Friend. Because that’s all they are and will be, from Apollo’s point of view. 

“Ja, sicher. I’ve heard good things about this place too.”

“Cool,” Apollo says, smiling. He goes back to the door and opens it, glancing back expectantly. “Let’s go, then?”

Even that simple gesture makes Klavier’s heart hammer in his chest. Gott, he’s hopeless, he thinks glumly as he gets up from the couch. “After you.”

He follows Apollo out of the agency, hoping he isn’t on his way to break his own heart.

Chapter Text

“This court finds the defendant, Juniper Woods…not guilty!”

Klavier can hardly hear his own cheers amongst all the voices in the crowd. He’s smiling so much his cheeks hurt—he usually doesn’t have this much freedom to celebrate the wins of the defense team, even if he always wants to when it comes to Apollo. Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth generally discourages it when behind the prosecutor’s bench. 

In the gallery, though, there are no such limits. And the view of all parties is clear, too. Athena and Apollo high-five. Juniper beams, relief clear on her face. Even Blackquill looks pleased with the outcome, though Klavier can’t tell sometimes with him. 

“Proudly serve Professor Courte's memory,” Blackquill says as the cheers die down. “Do not let her death be in vain.”

Klavier feels an ache of bittersweetness—he would miss Professor Courte dearly. But at least they could all rest easy knowing her real killer was brought to justice.

“Court is adjourned!” the judge announces, and bangs his gavel. 

Slowly, the courtroom starts to clear out. Klavier stands, eyes lingering on Athena and Apollo. He wants to go congratulate them right now, but it looks like they’re heading over to talk to Juniper. He doesn’t want to intrude on their moment just yet.

As he watches, Athena pulls Juniper into a huge hug, the two of them squealing. Apollo squeezes Juniper’s shoulder, then glances out into the crowd. When his eyes land on Klavier, a smile immediately breaks upon his face. 

Thank you, he mouths.

Klavier nearly trips over his feet, his face heating up. He flashes a quick thumbs-up in response and hopes his blush isn’t obvious. Verdammt, it’s like he gets worse every day. Facing off against Apollo in the mock trial reenactment, Klavier had barely been able to concentrate on reading the lines of the script—his heart was going a mile a minute, and being under the eyes of someone he just met didn’t help.

But he hadn’t gotten performance anxiety in years. What is Apollo doing to him?

Klavier needs some air. He takes out his phone to send a quick message.

klavier [1:03]: congrats herr forehead! pass them along to fraulein cykes too. i’ll meet you in defendant lobby 3 :)

With that, he shoves his heart back into his chest, turns around, and walks out of the gallery.

“Grazie mille, Prosecutor Gavin! We couldn’t have done it without your help!”

Athena is positively ecstatic back in Defendant Lobby No. 3. Klavier can’t blame her—the spillover excitement from Juniper’s verdict to Trucy’s announcement about the festival has him in high spirits as well. 

Klavier chuckles. “Nein, you give me too much credit. You and Herr Forehead rocked out there.”

“Aw, thanks!” Athena rubs the back of her head, pleased. “I’m just happy Junie is okay.” She beams at Juniper, who ducks her head with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Ich auch.” Klavier smiles. “I look forward to performing with you, Fräulein Woods.”

“S-same here,” Juniper says shyly. “Thank you both. And Apollo, too.”

Where is Apollo? Klavier glances across the lobby. Looks like he’s currently arguing with Trucy and Phoenix, waving his arms indignantly. He always looks cute with his brow furrowed like that, whether he’s deep in thought or annoyed.

Klavier’s heart stops and restarts itself in his chest multiple times at the sight. It’s unfair.

He feels a stare on him and turns back. Athena is glancing between him and Apollo. Juniper blinks at him, tilting her head.

Scheiße.

“Was?” Klavier says, embarrassed to be caught. “Is something wrong?

Athena and Juniper exchange curious glances. Then Juniper says, “Prosecutor Gavin, do you—”

“Guys!” Trucy suddenly bounces up to them. “Let’s celebrate!” She pauses, her expression turning curious. “...oh, am I interrupting something?”

Klavier flushes. “N-nein. Go ahead.”

Trucy stares at him for a second, then mercifully decides to drop it. “Polly’s treating us all to Eldoon’s Noodles! Right, Polly?”

“No, I’m not!” Apollo sputters. “I didn’t agree to that!” He looks pleadingly at Phoenix. “Mr. Wright—”

“You kids have fun,” Phoenix says, amused. “I’ve got a date. See you.”

He walks out of the lobby, Apollo’s protests falling on deaf ears. Klavier can’t help but chuckle a little. Poor Herr Forehead. 

“This is not funny.” Apollo sighs mournfully. “My wallet…”

Trucy cheers, turning to Klavier. “Do you want to come, Prosecutor Gavin?” 

Klavier shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have to prepare for the trial I’m prosecuting tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Apollo asks. He still looks annoyed, but Klavier almost swears there’s a little disappointment in his tone, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest again. He forces the feeling away—ach, it’s probably wishful thinking.

He tries to crack a smile. “I’d like to save you at least a few dollars, Herr Forehead.” 

Apollo scoffs, and that little lilt vanishes. “How generous of you.” He looks at the girls’ eager faces, then sighs again. “Fine. Let’s go already.”

“Bye, Prosecutor Gavin!” Trucy chirps. She takes Juniper’s hand and starts leading her to the door. “Eldoon’s Noodles is the best! You’ll love it, I promise.”

Klavier waves. “Auf Wiedersehen, Fräuleins.”

Juniper waves back politely at him as Trucy drags her away. Apollo grumbles, following them. He pauses a couple feet from the door, though, and glances back. 

“Athena, you coming?” he asks. 

Athena starts—she hasn’t moved an inch or said a word during the whole conversation. She quickly drops her hand from the strange little device around her neck. It’s a blue, bulky pendant in the shape of a smiley face. As Klavier watches, he swears he sees the eyes blink.

“O-one sec!” Athena says. She gestures at Klavier. “I wanna get Prosecutor Gavin’s number. Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Huh. Klavier tilts his head, a little alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind, but doesn’t say anything.

“Alright.” Apollo gives him a little smile. “See you around, then, Klavier.”

Klavier freezes. “J-ja,” he manages, a second too late—Apollo is already out the door, leaving Athena, Klavier, and his stupid heart alone in the lobby.

Luckily (at least, that’s what Klavier thinks right now),  Athena wastes no time breaking a would-be awkward silence. “Can I have your phone, Prosecutor Gavin? I’ll type my number in. You can text me Gavinners song recommendations!”

“Sicher.” Klavier hands it over, chuckling. “Though if you want the best of the best, I’d suggest you wait until I release some solo songs later this year.”

“Oooo, I’m excited!” Athena types her phone number in. “A prosecutor and a singer… ¡Qué guay! Why can’t Apollo be that cool?”

Klavier laughs. “Ach, don’t sell Herr Forehead short like that. He has his talents as well.”

“Yeah, right,” Athena snorts affectionately. She hands the phone back. “Thanks! I should catch up with everyone else now, but…”

She doesn’t move. She just touches her strange necklace again and looks up at him curiously. 

“Actually, before I go, I have a question,” she says. Her tone is suddenly careful.

He blinks, bewildered. “Ja? What is it?”

“What’s up with you and Apollo?”

Klavier fumbles, nearly dropping his phone. He catches it in the nick of time, but the damage is done—Athena stares at his reaction, raising an eyebrow.

“W-what do you mean?” Klavier stammers, trying to save face. 

“Like…” Athena scratches her chin. “Do you guys dislike each other?”

“Of course not!” Klavier is almost a little offended at the implication. “We may battle in court sometimes, but we’re friends.”

“Oh,” Athena says, and Klavier thinks she’s going to drop it, for a moment, but then she turns the full brunt of her gaze back on him. “Are you sure that’s how you feel?”  

Klavier chokes. He doesn’t like where this is going. “Bitte?”

“I-I’m just asking because…” Athena frowns, concerned. “I’m picking up a lot of noise from you. The discord in your heart…”

“‘Discord?’” Klavier echoes nervously. He is starting to get seriously freaked out over how good everyone in the Wright Anything Agency is at prodding into his words and his mind—even Athena, who he met only a few days ago. Just what is Phoenix Wright teaching his disciples? “Nein, Fräulein, you must be mistaken. The only thing in my heart is the most musical harmony.” He snaps his fingers to punctuate his point, putting on a smile that would make most Fräuleins swoon.

Athena doesn’t look convinced, though. She opens her mouth to say something, but—

“Bullshit!” a little voice yells, nearly giving Klavier a heart attack. 

Athena gasps, her face turning crimson. “Widget!” Her hand flies to her necklace again. “You can’t say that word!”

Klavier looks around wildly, but they’re still alone in the lobby. “W-what was that?” 

“Just my digital assistant,” Athena says, sheepish. She moves her hand, and Klavier spots the little device— Widget?— scowling at him. “Sorry, he just says random things sometimes. Ignore him.”

Klavier exhales shakily. Right, he remembers Athena activating some kind of technology during one of the cross-examinations. He eyes Widget. “You used it on Fräulein Newman for…therapy?”

Athena beams. “Yep! It’s my specialty!” She taps Widget, and a blue holographic screen materializes in front of her. Klavier startles. “I studied psychology in Europe. Widget here helps me analyze people’s emotions.”

“I-I see,” Klavier says, a little disbelievingly. Her therapy session in court had been…unorthodox, to say the least, but fascinating. Besides, considering how easily Athena’s been able to read him, he can’t really say he doubts her abilities.

“Look, Prosecutor Gavin,” Athena says, suddenly serious again. “You’re a really cool person, but Apollo is my friend. So I’m just making sure the noise I’m hearing isn’t going to be a problem. For either of you.”

Noise? Klavier still has no idea what she’s talking about. The blue screen is spinning with graphs and numbers he can’t make sense of. Staring at Athena through them, she seems so much more authoritative, just like she was in court.

He clears his throat. “That’s kind of you, but everything is fine. There are no, ah, out-of-the-ordinary emotions between Herr Forehead and I.”

Athena scrutinizes him. “Well, what about just within you?” 

“Hnng,” Klavier says, unable to form a coherent thought.

“I think I heard a bit of sadness in your voice when we first met at Themis,” Athena says, and Klavier flinches. “Especially when you said that I didn’t seem like ‘Apollo’s type.’”

It had been a stupid joke, in retrospect. A slip of the tongue. He’s glad Apollo just rolled his eyes and shrugged it off, because he has no idea what he would’ve done otherwise. 

“Honestly, it was a little funny,” Athena continues, giggling. “No offense to Apollo, but he’s definitely not my type. I like to stick with the ladies, thank you very much!”

Klavier knows his own type, of course—small, intense, easily riled up lawyers. But Apollo’s … Klavier isn’t sure he wants to know. It might break his heart. 

“I-I didn’t mean anything by that,” he says lamely.

“See, there it is again!” Athena taps at the screen. “Sadness and…fear? Weird. That doesn’t seem like normal friendship stuff to me, Prosecutor Gavin. Actually, looking back, those two emotions were there the whole time Apollo was still here in the lobby with u— oh!”

Klavier jumps. Athena looks up, eyes suddenly sparkling, and he’s hit with a sense of deja vu so strong it nearly knocks him off his feet. 

“You—!” Athena shrieks, waving her hands. “Apollo—oh, how did I not see this?”

Klavier glances around nervously, hoping Apollo doesn’t somehow materialize within earshot. “Fräulein…”

Athena’s eyes scan her screen. “Your emotions were fluctuating so much I couldn’t tell at first—and Widget only really tracks four main ones, I should get him an upgrade soon—but no, this makes so much sense! These are definitely the signs of pining.”

Klavier flushes bright red. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Maybe that’s for the best, because he’d probably say something embarrassing that’ll permanently ruin Athena’s perception of him. If it isn't already ruined, that is. 

Great job, Dummkopf. Three days into meeting someone and she’s figured it all out based on a grand total of three interactions. 

“I can’t believe I was worried!” Athena exclaims. “Sorry, Prosecutor Gavin, I shouldn’t have doubted you. You’d be great for Apollo!”

Klavier feels like melting into the floor. He coughs, trying to figure out what the fuck to say to save himself.

“Please don’t tell him,” is what eventually comes out of his mouth. This is the first time he’s acknowledging it aloud, he realizes. His cheeks burn. Gott, how did he let things get this far? 

“I won’t,” Athena promises earnestly. “I know you don’t have a Mood Matrix to read my heart, but trust me, Prosecutor Gavin. I won’t tell a soul.” 

Klavier stares into her eyes. He does trust her—Phoenix has recognized her enough to let her join his agency, after all, and Apollo has high praise for her as well. She’s just trying to help. Klavier can appreciate that, even though he still wants to crawl into a hole and never leave. 

“Danke,” he says softly. “It’s just—complicated right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But hey, most of your noise went away!” Athena claps her hands together, beaming. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Klavier honestly feels a little bit of pity for the witnesses on the stand. But at least their secrets aren’t as embarrassing as his. “Your methods are certainly…ah, effective, Fraulein.”

“Thanks!” Athena chirps. She doesn’t turn off her device, though, continuing to look intently at the screen. “But to be honest, I still don’t understand: why don’t you tell Apollo yourself?”

Klavier freezes. Athena seems to be setting the record for how many times someone can make him speechless within the span of one conversation.

But honestly? He has been asking himself the same question recently. His resolve to silence has been faltering—every little text or smile from Apollo has his heart racing, threatening to overcome his reason. It’s thrilling. It’s terrifying.

He clears his throat. “I don’t want to lose a friend.”

Athena blinks at him. “Well, how do you know Apollo doesn’t like you back?”

She sounds eerily like that little voice in the back of his head, the devil on his shoulder, so to speak, that keeps whispering those hopeful maybe s and what ifs like he’s in one of those romantic movies Trucy is fond of. 

But even if Klavier has watched and enjoyed some of those movies himself, things don’t happen like that in real life. “He’s never shown any interest towards me.”

Athena snorts. “Well, he’s Apollo. I’ve been learning a lot from him in court, but he’s dense as a brick sometimes. Especially with romance. Trucy told me he didn’t realize Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth were together until, like, six months after he started working at the agency.”

Klavier should not find that endearing. But despite himself, he feels the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. Gott, he’s whipped. “Really?” 

“Yeah!” Athena exclaims. “Even I knew the moment I saw them together.”

He glances at Widget. “Well, I think you have an advantage in emotional awareness over all of us, Fraulein.”

“That’s no excuse!” Athena huffs. “Apollo’s a mess sometimes. And, speaking of…” She touches the screen. “There’s always discord in Apollo’s voice when he talks about you sometimes, too.”

Klavier’s heart manages to do an entire rollercoaster ride in one second flat. “W-what kind of discord?”

Athena tilts her head. “Hmm, it’s…happiness? Fear? Same as yours. I always found it kinda funny.” Her eyes light up. “But maybe that means he does like you back!”

“Ah…” Klavier doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high. But even that little possibility makes his hidden thoughts, the ones he tucked away after his conversations with Trucy and Phoenix, flood forward. 

Asking Apollo on a date. Telling him how he feels, and Apollo, feeling the same thing he does—red cheeks, thumping heart, the warm feeling square in the middle of his chest...could it really happen?

Klavier takes a deep breath, shaking his head. Nein, it is too early to dream that far.

“You can’t be completely certain?”

“Not unless I ask him directly,” Athena says, and Klavier’s chest immediately spasms in protest. “I won’t, I won’t! He’d be much less receptive than you.”

Klavier can definitely see that. He nods. 

“Besides…” Athena’s voice is suddenly firm. She levels her determined gaze at him. “I know people’s hearts, Prosecutor Gavin, so I don’t believe in hiding them. I think you should speak from your heart. The truth is always a good thing, isn’t it?”

Klavier inhales. She sounds so sincere that any sort of protest dies on his tongue. 

“You have some evidence,” Athena continues encouragingly. She gives him a thumbs-up. “Now all you need is the confession!”

Klavier is pretty sure that’s not how court works. But…maybe she’s right. Maybe he should just try, to get it out in the open. Apollo would at least appreciate the honesty as a defense attorney, right?

“I’ll think about it,” Klavier settles on. The thought doesn’t seem so horrible anymore. Athena beams at him.

“Great!” she cheers. “You guys have my blessing. But just so you know...”

Her eyes gleam with a different light all of a sudden. Klavier takes an involuntary step back. 

“If you break his heart, you answer to me—” She slams her hands together, Widget flashing red. “—got it?”

“G-got it,” Klavier says weakly. She is terrifying when she’s angry. And he knows it’s not an empty threat, if Apollo’s complaints months ago about how Athena threw an entire man at him were anything to go by. 

Athena brightens instantly. “Glad we’re on the same page. And look, there’s no more noise!”

Klavier can’t see what she’s talking about, but with a flick of her hand, the blue screen disappears. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Cross-examination over. 

He does feel lighter, though, in a weird way. With Trucy and Phoenix, it had just been a whole lot of them realizing and him stammering his way out of the conversation. But actually talking to Athena and airing out his feelings has been helpful.

Huh. Maybe therapy does work. 

“Danke,” he says, just because he feels like should. “Sorry to keep you here so long, with my, ah, problems.”

“No, it’s okay! This is what I do,” Athena says earnestly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

That’s sweet of her. But thinking about Trucy reminds him...he glances at the clock. “Hey, Fräulein, isn’t everyone else still waiting for you outside?”

Athena freezes. “Oh, shoot! I completely forg—”

Right on cue, her phone starts to ring. Athena yelps, fumbling to get it. She must’ve hit speaker by accident, too, because Trucy’s voice starts to ring throughout the lobby.

“—thena!” she’s yelling. “Where are you? Don’t tell me you or Prosecutor Gavin got arrested for murder?”

“Are they okay?” That’s Juniper.

“Trucy, don’t joke about that.” Apollo’s voice. Klavier can picture the furrow in his brow and the downward tug of his lips, hating how his heart flutters a little.

“What? It’s possible, Polly! Do we need to come rescue you? I can do a little trick with Mr. Hat—”

“Coming, coming!” Athena says hurriedly. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She hangs up, shoving her phone into her pocket. Thankfully she seems too much in a hurry to point out Klavier’s emotions again. “I gotta go! Buena suerte on getting your man! Text me if you need any more help!”

“V-viel Spaß,” Klavier says weakly. Athena gives him one last thumbs-up before sprinting out the door, nearly bowling over a bailiff who’s coming in. 

“Sorry!” she yells without slowing down. Her footsteps fade rapidly into the distance, and the bailiff turns to level an unimpressed look at him. 

“Uh,” Klavier says, realizing that he’s stayed in the lobby way too long and that the next trial is probably already starting. “I should go, too. Es tut mir leid, Officer.”

Klavier walks past him as nonchalantly as he can, stepping into the hallway. His body feels like it’s on autopilot as he leaves the courthouse and hops on his motorcycle.

I’ll think about it, he had said. About Apollo’s smile, about the “discord” in his heart, about whether it would all be worth it. 

And going back to the Prosecutor’s Office, instead of properly reviewing the evidence for tomorrow’s trial, that’s exactly what Klavier does.

Chapter Text

Klavier is… actually trying. At least, he is at first.

Ever since Athena’s pep-talk, if one could call it that, he’s been feeling fairly hopeful. He and Apollo talk as usual, and Klavier has even started pushing it a little, when he’s feeling brave: a teasing comment here or there that could come off as flirting if Apollo read between the lines.

But he never does.

And—fine. Athena had warned him about Apollo’s romantic ineptness. There’s no rush, Klavier tells himself. He must get it eventually, right?

So when Klavier is asked to take a month-long work trip to Germany in Edgeworth’s stead, he agrees. Why not? He says goodbye to everyone and boards the plane, reassured that everything will be the same when he comes back. He can keep trying then.

Well. That doesn’t exactly end up being the case. 

Clay Terran’s near-lethal stabbing. The courtroom bombing. The Space Center hostage situation. The UR-1 retrial. An international spy starts a series of events that gets Apollo hospitalized, Trucy held hostage, and Athena arrested. 

Klavier doesn’t even get the news until several days after it’s all over, because someone decided not to inform him personally about his close brush with death. It’s not until he touches down at the LAX that he finally finds out why everyone has both gone radio silent this past week.

fräulein magician [1:23]: welcome back!!

fräulein magician [1:23]: you need athena to pick you up?

klavier [1:23] : nein, danke. i will call a taxi

fräulein magician [1:24]: ok!!

fräulein magician [1:24]: i missed you prosecutor gavin

klavier [1:24]: haha missed you too fräulein

fräulein magician [1:24]: but polly missed you the most :p

fräulein magician [1:24]: oh btw hes being released from the hospital today!! do you wanna come visit him?

klavier [1:26] : herr forehead is in the hospital??????????????

He ends up rushing straight to the Hotti Clinic after paying a taxi driver extra to break the speed limit, as Trucy recounts the events of the past few weeks for him over the phone. He makes it to Apollo’s room just as she’s finished.

“Athena and I will be there in ten minutes!” she promises before she hangs up. Klavier shoves his phone into his pocket and pushes the door open.

“Herr Forehead—” he gasps in winded breaths, eyes searching the room. “Are you…?”

Apollo is sitting on the hospital bed. His gaze snaps to him, and he blinks in shock. “K-Klavier?”

Klavier can’t respond, for a moment, just soaking in the sight of him. Apollo’s arms and hands are heavily bandaged, bits of burnt skin peeking out under the edges. A bandage is wrapped around his head as well. His eyes are a little sunken, his hair spikes a little wilted. But he’s alive. Klavier feels all the tension in his chest unknot at once.

“W-what are you doing here?” Apollo stammers. He puts down a book he must’ve been reading. “I didn’t—”

“Tell me you were in the hospital?” Klavier says, and Apollo winces guiltily. “Fräulein Wright told me everything that happened. She and Athena are on their way, too.” Klavier swallows. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” Apollo looks away. “I didn’t want you to worry. Sorry.”

Klavier stares, incredulous, as he walks forward and takes a seat in the plastic chair next to the bed. “You’re my friend, Herr Forehead. And you nearly got blown up. Of course I’m going to worry.”

Apollo stiffens a little. His hand clamps down on his gold bracelet, which he’s still wearing over his bandages.

Klavier feels a spike of alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just—” Apollo shakes his head, dropping his hand. “Sorry, I must be more tired than I thought.” He gives Klavier a little smile. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore, though. Honestly, I’ve been defending and investigating just fine for days, but Trucy made me come back to the hospital.”

This man is going to give Klavier a heart attack. “And she’s right. You should’ve been resting.”

Apollo shrugs. “Mr. Wright once fell off a burning bridge and went right back to investigating the next day.”

Klavier gawks at him. That is…unsurprising, to be sure, but not reassuring at all. “How did that even…?”

“Don’t ask me,” Apollo grumbles. “Anyway, I’m really—fine, Klavier.” He looks up at him, smiling, his eyes so sincere that Klavier’s breath catches. “Thanks for coming by, but you don’t have to worry.”

“Ah..” Klavier hopes his face isn’t visibly red. “Natürlich.” He coughs, struggling to regain composure. “And what about your friend? Herr Terran?”

“He woke up yesterday morning,” Apollo says. The relief is clear in his voice. “Doctors say he’ll make a full recovery.”

Klavier smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah. He’s asleep right now.” Apollo snorts. “He’s going to be so mad he missed your visit. He really wants to meet you.”

“Ah, he’s a Gavinners fan?”

“Unfortunately.”

Klavier decides he’d like to meet Clay Terran, too. “He has good taste indeed. You could stand to learn a thing or two from him.”

“Hey,” Apollo protests. “Don’t come after my tastes. And don’t say that to Clay, that’ll inflate his ego way too much.”

Klavier chuckles. Gott, he has missed this—bantering with Apollo. Between his work in Germany and the craziness in Apollo’s life here in L.A., they have a lot to catch up on. “I make no promises.”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “Why am I friends with you.” 

Klavier gasps in mock hurt, placing a hand over his chest. “How cruel! And here I am, so glad to have you as my friend —”

Apollo’s gaze snaps towards him, suddenly intense, and the rest of the jest dies on Klavier’s lips. His hand reaches for his bracelet again—he’s doing that a lot— and a small frown appears on his lips. Strange.

Apollo doesn’t respond immediately. Klavier can’t read his expression at all, and his palms sweat. Did he say something wrong?

After a moment, Apollo starts to open his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by the sound of the door swinging open behind them.

“Prosecutor Gavin!”

Klavier turns around to see Trucy bolting through the doorway, Athena following closely behind her. She immediately bounds forward and envelops him in a hug. 

“It’s good to have you back!” she exclaims. “How was Germany?”

Klavier hugs her back. “It was gut. How have you all been?”

Athena is a bit less enthusiastic, compared to her usual cheery self—she hangs back near the door, but she still flashes a smile and a peace sign at him. “¡Bien! I mean, the last week has been crazy, but it’s getting better now.” 

“Crazy is an understatement,” Apollo says. Whatever weird mood he was in has dissipated, and he seems normal again, his expression soft as he looks at them. 

“Oh!” Athena lifts the plastic bag she’s carrying, stepping forward. “I snuck in some Eldoon’s Noodles for you, Apollo!”

Apollo straightens immediately. “Shit, really? Finally. The hospital food is awful.”

Trucy pats Klavier’s shoulder. “Prosecutor Gavin, you should stay and have some!” 

“Ah…” Klavier subtly glances at Apollo, who doesn’t seem to have any problem with it. His hand has let go of his bracelet, reaching for the food. “Sicher, if there’s enough for everyone.”

“Don’t worry,” Trucy reassures him. “Polly’s wallet had just enough money to buy four bowls!”

Apollo squawks indignantly. “My wa—why do I always have to pay?”

Klavier laughs. “Then there’s no way I would scorn Herr Forehead’s generosity.”

Apollo glares at him, grumbling under his breath in a way that Klavier should not find endearing. Trucy beams.

“Great!” She grabs some plastic chairs from the other side of the room, dragging them over. Klavier stands to help her.

To be honest, Klavier had (a little selfishly) wanted more alone time with Apollo, to catch up on lost time and maybe continue testing the waters. But this is still good, he decides as he listens to Athena and Apollo bicker. Even if he’s making no progress in the romantic aspect of his life right now. He likes spending time with the Wright Anything Agency, as unorthodox as it is for a prosecutor.

As for the whole situation with Apollo…well. For now, Klavier carefully tucks away his feelings, accepts his bowl of ramen from a clueless Apollo, and digs in.

He’s known this song-and-dance for a year, he tells himself. He can take his time.

But then the tempo changes.

The whirlwind that is the UR-1 retrial wraps up slowly. Klavier gets used to Prosecutor Blackquill walking around the office without a hoard of police officers surrounding him. Edgeworth schedules the Phantom’s trial, putting the brunt of his other work on Klavier while he prepares his case. Apollo’s bandages come off a couple weeks later and Trucy sends him many excited pictures for the occasion.

So, it takes a while for Klavier to realize something else is amiss:

It almost feels like Apollo is avoiding him.

He’s been hyper-aware of all of Apollo’s actions, every little expression he makes or word he says, to try and figure out Apollo’s feelings about him. So he notices the distance pretty quickly. It’s a bit embarrassing. 

Still, he thinks nothing of the change at first. After having your best friend nearly stabbed to death by an international spy and then subsequently being nearly killed by a bomb yourself, anyone would be burnt out. Apollo has a lot on his mind, and Klavier is willing to give him the space he needs. His feelings are far less important than Apollo’s healing process.

But as weeks go by…Klavier starts to suspect that something else is at play, something he can’t quite put his finger on. A few texts from Athena confirm that suspicion: 

fräulein cykes [3:43]: hey do u know why apollos been acting weird?

klavier [3:43]: nein, how so? 

fräulein cykes [3:44]: hes grumpier than usual. and his noise levels have increased a lot this week

klavier [3:43]: is he alright?

fräulein cykes [3:44]: idk. there were two spikes in his discord when i talked to him

fräulein cykes [3:44]: one was when i asked abt u 

fräulein cykes [3:44]: but the kind of discord was different from before

fräulein cykes [3:44]: idk why :/

That nearly makes Klavier’s heart nearly stop in his chest. He spends the rest of the day running through every recent interaction he’s had with Apollo, but nothing strange stands out—Apollo had been friendly enough the last few times they talked in person, even in the hospital room. So what’s going on? 

He gets so distracted by these thoughts that he gets pretty much all his paperwork mixed up that day, much to Edgeworth’s annoyance.

Still, even as he works on his cases, he can’t concentrate. He needs a new theory about Apollo. So like any good prosecutor, over the next few weeks, Klavier compiles evidence of a different kind in his head.

It starts with unanswered texts. Apollo is usually pretty good at responding within a day, but his replies start dropping off, becoming more terse, and Klavier notices he doesn’t really initiate conversation anymore—there are no more impromptu pictures of Mikeko or invitations to eat lunch.

Klavier checks his phone so often for them that Edgeworth reproaches him for his lack of progress at work. And yeah, Klavier deserves that a little. He doesn’t want to seem like a clingy boyfriend, especially since they are nowhere near that level of closeness, but he can’t help it. He feels…a little lonely, almost. Even though Athena and Trucy still regularly text him.

But there’s that little, familiar voice in his head yelling Objection! from the other side. Maybe Apollo has been short with everyone lately. It’s certainly not a better alternative, though. Klavier even tries sending a few texts asking if everything is alright, but Apollo only sends back one short i’m fine in response. It doesn’t alleviate any of the pressure in his chest. 

As he checks his phone, Apollo’s words from a year ago echo in his head:

I just want you to know it’s okay if you’re not fine.

It feels like Apollo is putting up walls, and that makes Klavier even more worried and even less attuned to his work. He is definitely overthinking it to the point of being overbearing, but…he cares about Apollo, regardless of any extra feelings that he has. He just hopes that seeing Apollo and talking to him again will help assuage his fears.

That doesn’t happen for a few more weeks, when Klavier is leaving the courtroom after nearly losing to one of the worst defense attorneys he has ever faced. Honestly, the trial should’ve ended hours ago, but his mind has been so frazzled lately he couldn’t formulate an argument in his head.

I wonder if Herr Edgeworth will let me take the rest of the day off, he thinks as he drags himself out of the lobby. Gott, he’s exhausted. The trial went on so long that most people have cleared out by now—the hallway is relatively empty, except for two people at the far end.

Wait.

He rubs his eyes, squinting at the familiar red suit and two spikes of hair in his vision.

Apollo?

Klavier stumbles into a halt, heart swooping in his chest. That’s definitely Apollo, with his back turned. He seems to be frowning at the court vending machine. The other figure is a black-haired man, arm slung around Apollo’s shoulder in such a familiar way that Klavier’s chest lurch with irrational jealousy before he tamps it back down.

Klavier takes an uncertain step forward. Should he say something? Anticipation and anxiety battle in his mind, and it takes only a few seconds before one seizes triumph.

“Herr Forehead!” he calls out before he can stop himself. 

Klavier swears he sees Apollo’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t glance back. His friend does, though, and his eyes light up as their gazes meet across the hallway.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you Klavier Gavin?”

Before Klavier can respond, the man runs up to him. He looks vaguely familiar. It isn’t until Klavier sees the GYAXA logo on his sleeve that a name finally clicks.

“You’re…Clay Terran, right?”

Clay gasps loudly. “Klavier Gavin knows my name!” He glances back at Apollo. “‘Pollo, did you hear that?”

Apollo is still over by the vending machine, but it seems that Clay calling his name has finally snapped him back to reality. He slowly trudges over. “I think the entire courthouse heard your fanboying, Clay.” Apollo’s gaze flits to Klavier. “Uh, hey.”

Apollo seems subdued. Klavier bites his lip, wondering if now is an appropriate time to ask him how he’s doing. Or should he wait until they’re left alone? 

“It’s so great to finally meet you!” Clay enthuses, as if unaware of the underlying tension. He sticks out his hand. “Apollo has been holding out on me, really.”

“Ah…” Klavier pushes his worries away for now and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, too, Herr Terran. I’m glad to see you’ve been well.”

“Of course! Thanks to Apollo.” Clay claps Apollo on the shoulder. “He kicked ass in court to defend Sol. And he did the same thing today!”

Klavier chuckles. “Ja, he is often a force to be reckoned with.” He smiles at Apollo. “You should’ve told me you had a trial today, Herr Forehead. I would’ve come to cheer you on.”

He says it half as a question, to try and gauge Apollo’s reaction. But Apollo doesn’t even look at him.

“R-right,” Apollo mumbles, starting to back away. “Sorry, I gotta—” He gestures vaguely at the door of the defendant lobby. “I forgot my, uh, phone in there—”

“Huh?” Clay frowns, reaching into his pocket. “I literally have your phone right h—”

“ByeKlaviergottago!” Apollo yelps, and bolts.

It happens so fast that Klavier can only stare dumbly as Apollo runs back into the defendant lobby, the door slamming shut behind him. Even Clay gapes at him, confusion written all over his face. 

And, okay. Klavier isn’t dense. He gets the message Apollo is sending loud and clear: that he doesn’t want to talk. But— why?  

Thinking about the possibilities makes Klavier’s chest feel like it’s collapsing in on itself.

“Uh,” Clay says after a few moments, bewildered, turning back to Klavier with a sheepish expression. “Sorry about that. ‘Pollo’s just weird sometimes. Especially about you.” He freezes. “Uh, I mean—”

Klavier’s heart drops a little. “W-was?”

“Nothing!” Clay says quickly. “He’s just—bad. At people in general.”

“I-I see.” Klavier does not, in fact, see. His brain is running a mile a minute trying to figure out what just happened with Apollo. He can’t do this right now.

“Do you want me to go get him?” Clay offers. Klavier shakes his head.

“Nein, it’s fine. I have to head back to the Prosecutor’s Office.” He coughs, taking a step back. “I’ll, ah, be on my way now. Can you tell Herr Forehead Bis dann for me?”

“Sure,” Clay says, in a voice that tells Klavier he doesn’t know what Bis dann means. He gestures at the door. “I’ll go knock some sense into him.”

“D-danke,” Klavier murmurs. At least Apollo has someone to talk to. It still doesn’t relieve all of his worry, though.

“Bye, Klavier!” Clay waves as he walks backwards to the defendant’s lobby. “It was great chatting with you.”

Klavier waves back, but Clay is already turning around, pulling the door open and stepping inside. 

“Apollo, what are you doing?” he hears Clay ask, before the door shuts behind him and muffles the rest of their conversation, leaving Klavier alone, confused, and—would it be too dramatic to say a little bit heartbroken?—in the silent hallway.

For a few seconds, Klavier just stands there staring, his mind churning with too many thoughts to gather them coherently. Then he mentally screams, turns, and exits the courthouse as quickly as possible.

So the evidence is…not reassuring, all laid out in his mental court record. Klavier has even more questions than from when he started. After everything Apollo has been through these past few weeks, from the courtroom bombing to the UR-1 retrial, it makes sense that Apollo would be somewhat distant—he never did ask for help often, which is worrying in and of itself.

But if it’s just that…then why did he run from Klavier? Why was there discord in his voice like Athena said? 

It feels like the progress of their friendship over this past year has been erased, and that hurts. Klavier doesn’t even know what to do now. He’s worried about Apollo, but he clearly wants his distance. Klavier can’t disrespect that.

Overthinking about it every day certainly hasn’t helped, either. Klavier is so behind on his work. And there’s no solace in his songwriting—his inspiration keeps dying on his fingertips before he can get it to the guitar strings.

It gets so bad, in fact, that Edgeworth drops by his office with questions of his own. One Friday evening, Klavier glances up at the sound of knocking on his door and immediately thinks, Scheiße.

“May I come in?” Edgeworth asks, in that voice where he’s not really asking. Klavier hasn’t seen him all day, actually. Huh.

Klavier coughs, hiding his phone behind a stack of papers. “Sicher. What can I help you with, Herr Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks toward his desk. “How have you been, Gavin?”

“Gut,” Klavier says. “And you?”

“The same.” Edgeworth tilts his head. “Have you been getting enough rest?”

Is this an interrogation? Klavier shrinks back. Maybe he stayed up a little too late last night staring at the ceiling and bemoaning his romantic life (or lack thereof), but that’s not his boss’ business. “J-ja. Enough.” 

To his surprise, Edgeworth— flinches a little. His gaze turns even sharper than before, eyes darting around Klavier. His mouth pinches slightly. 

“Is…something wrong?” Klavier asks slowly in the ensuing silence, bemused.

“Nothing,” Edgeworth says. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to step away from your work for a while. I have a task for you.”

Okay, that’s pretty normal—Edgeworth makes requests of him all the time. And this conversation is certainly better than getting reproached again for being distracted at work. Klavier has no idea why he’s acting so strange, though. “What is it?”

Edgeworth withdraws his hand from his pocket and unfolds his palm. In it rests a strange green stone, glowing softly against his skin.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks.

No, but Klavier recognizes the stone. Phoenix was fiddling with it when he dropped by the Wright Anything Agency months ago. That had been an… awkward conversation he doesn’t want to remember. He shakes his head.

“It’s a magatama,” Edgeworth says, setting the stone on the desk in front of him. “It has the ability to…” He halts, looking vaguely like he ate something sour. “…sense lies. In the form of Psycho-locks on people’s hearts. Which you can break with evidence to get closer to the truth.”

Klavier furrows his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Edgeworth mutters under his breath. He clears his throat. “In any case, Wright left this at my office earlier today. I want you to return it to him.”

Klavier looks at the clock. “Right now? Is Herr Wright even there?”

“He might be,” Edgeworth says. “Regardless, at least someone is. Just head straight there. And you don’t have to come back afterwards—go home.”

“Was?” Klavier glances at the rest of the papers on his desk. “But I still have to finish the report on last week’s cases…”

“It’s fine, Gavin.” Edgeworth gives him a measured, meaningful look. “I believe it will benefit you to take a break from your work and visit the agency. With this truth-seeing magatama in hand. And talk to any of Wright’s subordinates whom you have not spoken to in a while and may or may not be present at this hour.”

Klavies stares at him. It seems like Edgeworth is trying to tell him something, though he has no idea what. The whole situation seems unnecessary, and he still doesn’t know what Edgeworth means about the magatama.

But…he has been at his desk for basically six hours. Stretching his legs and heading home doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Besides, if Athena is at the office, perhaps he could ask her for some more advice about Apollo.  

“Okay,” Klavier relents. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Edgeworth says. He cautiously slides the stone across the desk. “Be careful with it—the magatama is very important to Wright.”

Klavier frowns. “With all due respect, I still don’t understand what it is. What did you say he needed this for?”

“It’s not important,” Edgeworth remarks unhelpfully. He turns. “Anyway, I must be going. Don’t forget to lock your office when you leave.”

“A-alright?” Klavier stares as Edgeworth starts walking away. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth pauses at the doorway and gives him one more look. “See you tomorrow, Gavin. And good luck.”

Klavier blinks. “On what?”

But Edgeworth is already gone, the door falling shut behind him. Klavier looks between his papers and the magatama for a few seconds, bewildered.

The magatama just sits there. It seems...unassuming, up close. A little accessory that might be attached to a necklace or keychain. He picks it up, a little wary. It’s heavier than it looks and cool to the touch, but still—nothing happens. 

Relieved, and feeling silly for being apprehensive in the first place, he stands, slipping the stone into his pocket on his way to the door.

He might as well get this over with. 

The trip to the Wright Anything Agency is brief. Klavier parks his motorcycle in front of the building and heads inside.

The magatama is secure in his pocket; he keeps a hand on it just in case as he makes his way up the stairs. It’s only when Klavier gets to the door and knocks that he realizes that this task is not going to be as simple as he thought it was.

(And it has nothing to do with the magatama at first.)

“Come in!” 

Klavier freezes, dropping his hand from the doorknob.

That’s Apollo’s voice.

Klavier didn’t even consider the possibility that Apollo would be at the office instead of Phoenix, Trucy, or Athena—which is ridiculous, since Apollo makes up a whole quarter of the people working at the agency. He really must be exhausted beyond belief. He stares at the doorknob, heart suddenly pounding. 

Of course he wants to talk to Apollo again, but considering Apollo’s reaction to him a week ago…what if he doesn’t want to see him? 

Is it too late for Klavier to turn tail and run and abandon his mission? Perhaps he could just leave the magatama on the ground in front of the door—but, no, that would be impolite. Besides, if Klavier says something right now without coming in, that’ll just look worse.

He gingerly reaches for the doorknob again, opening the door as quietly as possible like that would somehow better the situation.

The Wright Anything Agency is just as messy as it was months ago when Klavier had last been here. There’s no one in sight except Apollo, sitting at his desk and squinting down at his computer. His bandages are completely off now. Klavier’s breath catches in his throat at the sight—it certainly doesn’t help calm his heart rate. 

“Can I help y—” Apollo lifts his gaze from his screen, then pales so quickly he looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Klavier?”

Klavier just continues staring. All the words he planned to say to Apollo over these past few weeks fizzle out of existence, leaving him tongue-tied.

Apollo looks…tired. His gaze isn’t as intense as it usually is, and he drops direct eye contact almost immediately, eyes darting back and forth between the door and his computer.

“Uh,” Apollo says, breaking the awkward silence. He still sounds bewildered. “What are you doing here?”

Klavier finally remembers how to move his mouth. He coughs. “I’m looking for Herr Wright. Herr Edgeworth sent me.”

Apollo frowns. His hand touches his bracelet briefly, then lets go. 

“He went out,” Apollo says. “Said he wouldn’t be coming back any time today.”

“I-I see,” Klavier stammers. “I just have something to return to him.” He starts to take the magatama out.

“You can leave it on his desk.” Apollo returns to typing on his computer, not even glancing up, and Klavier feels a bolt of hurt. He drops his hand back down. 

It is painfully obvious that something is up with Apollo. This past year, Klavier always has treasured seeing his eye-rolls and smiles when they make small talk. But Apollo won’t even look at him now. It stings.

At least Apollo isn’t running away from him this time, he thinks mournfully to himself. But it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

Klavier turns to Phoenix’s desk, reaching for the magatama again, then hesitates. He glances back at Apollo.

Worry churns in Klavier’s chest. It doesn’t feel right, to leave things unsaid like this. He should try to ask something. At the very least, it’ll give him one more piece of evidence. And besides, if Klavier embarrasses himself, he doesn’t have to head back to work—he can just go straight home to wallow. 

Klavier pivots and takes an uneasy step back towards Apollo, heart pounding in his chest. “Herr Fore—” Okay, maybe now is not the time for nicknames. “Apollo.” 

Apollo’s eyes dart to him briefly. “...yeah?”

“Are you alright?” Klavier blurts out before he can overthink it.

Apollo’s hands immediately still on his keyboard, and his eyes snap up. A flurry of emotions crosses his face. “Why are you asking?”

“I’ve just noticed you’ve been…distant lately,” Klavier says softly. “And I’ve been worried, especially after everything that happened. If you want to talk…” He trails off, unsure what to say next. You can talk to me? Apollo has already shown that he doesn’t want to do that.

Silence, for a few seconds. Then Apollo shakes his head, looking away.

“No, I’m…” Apollo fidgets slightly. “Don’t, Klavier. I’m fine, I’m not— distant—”

The world goes dark.

For a second, Klavier is sure he’s dying, and this is just a fucked-up post-death hallucination to send him off to purgatory. His vision spins with inverted colors, only Apollo left intact at the center, still refusing to look at him. Harsh metallic clanking nearly break his eardrums as chains shoot into view, and—

Five red locks slam down in front of Apollo.

“Ach—!” Klavier nearly falls on his ass. His heart pounds in his chest. What is going on?

“Huh?” Apollo’s brow furrows, concern suddenly passing over his face. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Klavier takes his hand out of his pocket, steadying himself against the couch. He blinks and blinks and blinks, but the red locks don’t go away. Apollo doesn’t seem to notice them—his gaze is leveled straight at Klavier. At least, until it drifts down to his hand, and sees…

Apollo’s expression snaps from concern to confusion. “Where the hell did you get the magatama?”

“H-huh?” Klavier looks down. Right, he nearly forgot about the stone. It seems to be glowing brighter, and Klavier swears he feels it pulse against his palm, suddenly warm. “H-Herr Edgeworth said Herr Wright left it at his office. I’m supposed to return it—Apollo, what’s happening?”

Apollo drags a hand over his face. “Do you see red Psyche-Locks?”

“Ja, what—?”

Apollo groans. “Fuck.” He looks at Klavier, a little pleadingly. “Just—ignore them. Give me the magatama, I’ll—”

The word— Psyche-Locks— finally rings a bell. Klavier dimly recalls Edgeworth saying something like that earlier… “The locks…they hide the truth?”

“Who told you—?” Apollo huffs.  “Yeah, okay, something like that. It’s weird. I think Mr. Wright got it from a spirit medium.”

Is that what Phoenix had been using on him months ago? It seems terrifying. Klavier examines the stone again, this time with a little more fear and awe. “I had no idea…”

“You didn’t know about the magatama’s abilities?” Apollo asks.

Klavier shakes his head, and Apollo’s shoulders relax a little. He releases his bracelet—had he been holding it this whole time?

“I think Herr Edgeworth tried to explain,” Klavier says, “but I didn’t understand. Until now.” Though to be honest, he still half-believes he’s dreaming. The darkness, the locks, the chains—this is surreal. “It can really sense lies?”

Apollo nods, almost absently. Klavier feels his stomach twist.

“So you’re lying to me. About not being distant.”

Apollo freezes. Panic enters his expression, and he shrinks back a little.

“Klavier…” The chains around Apollo quiver. “Don’t.”

Klavier takes a deep breath. “You’ve been acting different lately. You can’t deny that. I’m worried about you, Apollo. I want to know if you’re alright.” He hesitates. “...after the Misham trial, you checked up on me. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

Apollo doesn’t respond at first. His hand drifts back to his bracelet, his brow furrowing like he’s deep in thought. Klavier feels like he can’t breathe in the silence.

Then Apollo looks up again, meeting his gaze. He stares at him like they’re facing off in the courtroom, a poker face of steel, and folds his arms.

“What makes you say I’ve been distant?” he asks.

He always liked to rise to the challenge. But the chains clank in protest, and Klavier’s stomach rolls uneasily.

The darkness around him is giving him vertigo. Klavier clutches the magatama and tries to collect his thoughts.

Edgeworth had something like evidence, right? To get to the truth. And Klavier has already been gathering some. He takes out his mental court record, inhaling deeply. Here goes nothing.

“You’ve barely answered my texts or calls these past few weeks,” he says, starting small. “You’ve been busy before, but you always told me when you couldn’t respond right away.”

Apollo frowns. “So? I just forgot.”

Klavier shakes his head. “It’s not just that. Fräulein Cykes and Fräulein Wright have mentioned you’ve been acting odd as well, and I know that both of them are good at sensing that.” Firsthand, in fact, though revealing that would be mortifying. 

“I…” Apollo exhales. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’ve been less social lately, and missing calls, and not hanging out with other people. The girls already give me enough grief about that.”

There’s a loud, shattering sound, and Klavier jumps—but it’s just one of the locks, breaking into pieces. He subconsciously grips the magatama tighter. That must mean Apollo is telling the truth, right? That must be a good sign.

But the four other locks still gleam in the darkness in front of him. Klavier gets the sense that it’ll only become harder from here.

“I’ve got a lot going on,” Apollo continues. “You know, paperwork and stuff. I’ve just been a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. We’ve been getting a lot of clients since the Space Center inc—” He falters, looking away.

Klavier follows his gaze to a picture frame on his desk. It looks like an old photo of Apollo and Clay together. 

“Apollo,” Klavier says softly. “Is that what’s been bothering you? What happened in the Space Center—”

“Is over,” Apollo interrupts. His hands curl into fists. “I survived. Clay survived. Athena got closure and Prosecutor Blackquill got freedom, so. Everything’s fine. I’m great.”

Even if he didn’t have the magatama, Klavier wouldn’t be convinced. And honestly, this is starting to sound very familiar. Klavier looks at Apollo’s tense shoulders and he can feel that heavy weight, like he’s at the prosecutor’s bench again watching Zak Gramarye disappear, or Vera Misham collapse, or Kristoph Gavin laugh and laugh and laugh as they drag him away in handcuffs. 

Klavier swallows. It takes a few moments for him to untangle the words in his throat.

“I know you’re strong, Apollo,” he says quietly. One of the strongest people I’ve ever heard the pleasure of knowing. “But still, it’s okay not to be fine. After Kris’ trial, you told me the same thing.”

Apollo scowls. “That was different.”

“Ich weiß. But our situations don’t need to be the same.” Klavier takes another step forward, until he’s close enough to see every detail of the exhaustion beneath Apollo’s expression. “Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt. You went through so much—you nearly died. Anyone would understand if you’re struggling.”

Apollo doesn’t say anything, at first. His head is bowed, and Klavier can’t see his expression—even if he could, he’s not sure he can read it. But then, after what feels like an eternity, Apollo’s shoulders finally sag, part of his facade crumbling, and the second lock shatters. 

“...okay,” Apollo relents. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I still get some—occasional nightmares. About how close Clay came to dying. How close I came to ruining Athena’s life, and…”

Klavier’s heart aches with empathy. That uncertainty, that guilt—he feels like he’s reliving it when he looks at the defeat in Apollo’s expression. And he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to put a hand on Apollo’s shoulder in reassurance, but holds back; he isn’t sure if that would be welcome just yet.

“I’m sorry,” Klavier says instead. “I know it can be hard to move on. It took months for me to be able to feel okay again. But you helped me, Herr Forehead.”

Apollo tenses a little. “I…didn’t do anything.”

Klavier shakes his head. “You did. You listened to me. And I would do the same for you—Herr Wright and the Fräuleins would, too. We’ll always be here.”

Apollo looks away. “Right. T-thanks, Klavier.” But his chains rattle, and three Psyche-Locks remain stubbornly in front of him. Klavier frowns. Something’s still wrong.

“Herr Forehead—” he starts, but Apollo clears his throat, cutting him off.

“So we’re done, right?” Apollo says. “You can put the magatama on Mr. Wright’s desk, and—”

Klavier blinks. “What do you mean, ‘we’re done’? There are still three Psyche-Locks left.”

“What?” Apollo looks genuinely surprised. He glances around, as if he’s trying to see the locks for himself. “But I’m telling the truth now. Unless…” He freezes. “Fuck.”

Klavier startles. Apollo is staring at him with something that almost looks like fear, which makes no sense. Apollo already revealed the reason, didn’t he? Klavier knows he was telling the truth then, and he trusts Apollo more than anything. He glances down at the magatama, wondering if it’s broken, somehow, but it still glows that same, steady green. 

Okay, so if he’s not lying, but the Psyche-Locks are still here…Klavier thinks back to court, to what Edgeworth always encourages him to do—find the whole truth—and it clicks. 

“The Space Center incident isn’t the full reason, is it? For your distance.”

Apollo freezes, for a split second. Klavier wouldn’t have caught it if the lock on the right didn’t shudder conspicuously. 

“N-no, it’s just—” Apollo coughs. “I can’t tell—especially not you—”

What is that supposed to mean? Klavier opens his mouth to interject, but Apollo keeps barreling forward, panicked.

“There’s nothing else, Klavier. It’s just…I’ve been distant from everyone, yeah. Not just you, so it’s not your problem.”

Not just you. Klavier suddenly recalls some of the evidence he’s been trying hard to repress these past few weeks, and feels his heart sink further in his chest.

But he can’t back down now. He has to move forward.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks quietly. 

“Not everything’s about y—” Apollo cuts himself off, scowling down at his laptop. “What, do you have proof?”

That stings a little. Klavier takes a deep breath. Focus. He can go home and cry later. He carefully plays back the last few interactions—or lack thereof—he’s had with Apollo.

“What about at the courthouse last week?” he says after a moment to gather his thoughts. Apollo’s paling face doesn’t make him feel any better about this train of thought. “When Herr Terran was there, you were acting—”

“Objection!” Apollo blurts out, loud enough to make Klavier flinch. “Uh, sorry. I was just in a hurry that day. Athena had a trial right afterwards and Mr. Wright wanted me to be the co-counsel.”

He really seems like he doesn’t want to talk about their little interaction with Clay at the courthouse. Klavier bites his lip.

“Does this have anything to do with what Herr Terran said?” he asks. “That you’re ‘weird about me’?”

Apollo chokes. “He said what?”  

Klavier winces a little at the volume. “When you left. He mentioned something like that.”

“Ah—” Apollo laughs nervously. “Ignore him. Clay is just—he makes stuff up all the time. He doesn’t know how to read situations at all. That evidence isn’t, uh, admissible.”

Fine, then. Klavier looks for another. Actually, speaking of Athena earlier…

“Then what about Fraulein Cykes?” he presses. Surely Apollo can’t discount her ability to sense emotions. 

Apollo glances up at him warily. “What about her?”

“She told me there was some strange ‘discord’ in your voice. When she asked you about me.”

“Athena—” Apollo swears under his breath, and Klavier winces a little, hoping he didn’t just subject her to his wrath, too. “When did she say that?”

“A few weeks back,” Klavier says. Apollo isn’t denying it. A month ago, Klavier would’ve been tentatively excited, allowing himself to consider the possibility that Apollo’s discord came from the same source as Klavier’s. But now…he isn’t so sure about how viable that hope is. 

Apollo’s shoulders slump a little. “Ugh. As if our powers didn’t cause enough problems in the workplace.”

Powers? Klavier blinks, confused, but the sound of another lock shattering grabs his attention. He grips the magatama tighter, bringing it closer to his chest. 

“So it is about me,” he says, hurt. “Why—?”

“Klavier…” Apollo sounds panicked, eyes darting around anxiously. “It’s— really not important.”

Klavier begs to differ, considering Apollo’s cagey reaction. “I care about you, Herr Forehead. If something is wrong with our friendship, I want to fix it.”

Apollo scoffs, startling him. Klavier frowns.

“Was?”

“Don’t,” Apollo says, and he sounds— bitter? “You really don’t have to do this, Klavier.”

Klavier stares at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

Apollo shakes his head uncooperatively. Klavier feels his heart lurch. Why is Apollo shutting him out? What has Klavier done wrong? He and Apollo are friends, and Klavier has respected that for over a year, even when he’s been toeing the line recently, trying to see if Apollo likes—

Oh.

The realization hits Klavier like a train.

Scheiße. It makes so much sense, even as the ground seems to wobble beneath him. All of his evidence points to it, and he can’t deny the truth when it’s staring him in the face:

Apollo must’ve found out about his feelings. 

Klavier feels sick, but he can’t stop all the pieces from clicking into place. Why else would Apollo have a problem with him, specifically? At best, he just doesn’t know how to let Klavier down gently, awkwardly tiptoeing around him until he finds the right words to reject him with. At worst—and it seems pretty bad right now—he’s disgusted by Klavier, horrified to know that all these months, Klavier had wanted something more.

But no matter which way he spins it in his head, the fact remains: Apollo doesn’t reciprocate his feelings.

Verdammt. He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up, to start dropping hints. He’s been too obvious. He knows Apollo has that weird scrutiny for lies and hidden feelings, and Klavier has been too eager to wear his heart on his sleeve as of late. It’s only natural that Apollo would find out eventually.

Gott, this has gone so wrong. Now Apollo won’t look at him and Klavier can’t breathe, his heart stuck in his throat. 

It’d be easy right now to drop it and run and go home and try to never think about this again. But Klavier’s hand refuses to uncurl from the magatama. He stares at the two remaining locks, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Running away won’t solve anything, and Klavier is tired of leaving with even more questions than he had before. He needs to pursue the truth to the bitter end.

“Are you just going to keep staring at me until I talk?” Apollo says suddenly, his posture defensive. “I’m not—”

“You’re uncomfortable,” Klavier blurts out, “because you found out something about me.”

Apollo tenses. His hand moves to his left wrist. “What do you mean, ‘found out?’ I don’t go poking into people's lives.”

Klavier’s eyes drift to Apollo’s bracelet. He thinks back to every time he’s seen Apollo behind the defense bench—revealing Lamiroir’s blindness, Vera Misham’s forgeries, Kristoph’s crimes. And in People Park a year ago, too, staring into Klavier’s soul as his hand wrapped around that gold band.

“Maybe you don’t need to,” Klavier says softly. “You’re amazing in court, Herr Forehead. The way you always know when a witness is lying…it’s almost like Fräulein Wright’s magic.”

Apollo scowls. “Compliments aren’t going to get you anywhere.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Klavier bites his lip. “It’s magical as in it feels impossible. Supernatural. And you always touch your bracelet when you do it.”

Apollo’s hand immediately drops from his wrist. He glances back and forth between his bracelet and Klavier for a few seconds. 

“You’re not going to believe me,” he says eventually. Klavier raises an eyebrow. 

“Herr Forehead, I am currently breaking into your heart with a magical stone that can sense lies. Your bracelet can’t possibly be more unbelievable than that.”

“I…” Apollo huffs. “I guess you’re right. Fine.” He touches his bracelet again. “I have this weird, uh, ability, you could say. My bracelet tightens around my wrist when someone’s lying to me. It’s not something I can control; it just happens.”

Klavier stares. That makes a lot of sense, actually. If this were any other situation, he would ask him more about it, but right now, the cold chains criss-crossing in front of Apollo are occupying all his attention. 

“And that’s how you…found out?”

“Yeah.” Apollo takes a deep breath, lifting his chin. “Because lately, it’s been going off around you all the time. Especially when you say you’re my—” He stops himself, his expression twisting. “When you talk about me.” 

Another lock shatters, and Klavier feels his heart drop. So he was right: he has been too obvious in his pursuits. Verdammt. 

There is one lock left, right over Apollo’s heart. Klavier isn’t sure he wants to know what’s behind it. 

“So,” Apollo says after a long moment, “you admit you’re lying to me, too, then.” 

Klavier flinches. Well, he backed himself into this corner, didn’t he. He tries to school his expression back into neutrality, but it’s too late—Apollo’s eyes harden.

“That’s—” Apollo shakes his head. “—wildly hypocritical of you, Klavier.”

“Herr Forehead—”

“No. Stop. You play with your hair when you’re nervous, you know that?” 

Klavier…did not. He hadn’t even noticed his hand winding through his ponytail. He quickly drops it.

“What do you think I’m lying to you about?” he asks quietly. 

Apollo scowls. “How am I supposed to know?”

The chains rattle, and Klavier’s heart sinks. So he does know, he did find out, and Klavier is going to get his heart broken into a million pieces alongside that last Psyche-Lock. 

“I want answers, too,” Apollo says, folding his arms. “You can’t hide this from me anymore than I can hide this from you right now.”

He’s right. They’re reaching the end of the line. It almost feels like court, the two of them neck-to-neck as they exchanged arguments and counterarguments. But even without an entire audience in the gallery and a judge waiting to bang his gavel, Klavier feels more pressure than he has felt in a very long time. 

Something Klavier is lying to Apollo about that would make him avoid him—it could only be that one thing. And he’s been lying to himself about it sometimes, too. 

Apollo is not going to like this answer.

Klavier considers running, again. He clearly can’t take the magatama with him. It’s not his; that would just be stealing. But it would leave Apollo with the sole truth-seeing advantage, and Klavier will never be able to get answers of his own, then. 

So Klavier makes up his mind. He takes a deep, shaky breath, staring at the Bum Rap Rhiny figurine on Apollo’s desk so that he won’t have to witness Apollo’s disgust. 

“Are you…” Gott, he can barely muster the strength to open his mouth. But better rip his heart out quick, right? So he takes a deep breath and blurts it all out at once, “Are you avoiding me because you found out I have feelings for you and you don’t reciprocate them?”

Apollo nearly falls out of his chair. “What?”

The rest of what he says gets lost. A sharp burning sensation suddenly stabs Klavier’s palm, where the magatama is pressed against his skin. He yelps, nearly dropping it.

For a second he thinks he’s somehow crushed the magatama into pieces and punctured his hand with the shards. But when he glances down, the magatama is still perfectly fine. The pain disappears after a few more seconds. He examines it, bewildered, wondering if he somehow hallucinated that.  

What in the world…?

Klavier forces his gaze back to Apollo. The last lock is still there, intact. And behind it…

Apollo is staring at him. He’s wearing an expression of utter shock, his hand gripping his bracelet so tight his knuckles have turned white.

“You—” Apollo stammers. “You have feelings for me?”

Every cell in Klavier’s body is screaming at him to curl up into a ball and hide, but he can’t move a muscle. “Ja. I do, Herr F—Apollo. But I completely understand if they’re unwanted, I—”

“Wait, no, shut up—” Apollo shakes his head furiously. “That’s what you were lying about? But I thought—” He stops himself, cheeks flushing. 

That was…not the reaction Klavier was expecting. He gapes at him, his mouth refusing to work. Even if it did, he has nothing in mind to say. 

“What the fuck,” Apollo drags a hand over his face. “This is—no, because I thought—I thought you were lying to me because you found out about my feelings!”

It takes an embarrassingly long moment for that to settle in. Then Klavier chokes. “Was?”

“Yeah, because my bracelet always went off when you called me your friend, and I thought that I weirded you out—” Apollo coughs, his face so flushed that Klavier is a little worried he might pass out. “That you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Klavier recalls Trucy’s eyes boring into him as she lingered on that word, too. Friend.  

“And now,” Apollo continues, seething a different kind of red, now, “you tell me that you have feelings? And what, you—a literal rock star, who they called the music world’s ‘god of romance’—were scared to tell me?”

“You read that one Gavinners Rolling Stone article?” Klavier says dumbly, still not in control of his brain-to-mouth filter. 

Apollo jabs a finger at him, his cheeks somehow managing to match the same shade as his red suit. “Not the point! You’re avoiding the question!” 

“T-that’s not my fault,” Klavier protests weakly. “I tried flirting with you, but—”

“You flirt with everyone!” Apollo exclaims. “How was I supposed to know if my feelings were returned when you’re so infuriatingly like this?”

Klavier’s brain is slowly starting to catch up. Feelings. Apollo’s feelings, for him. Apollo brushing his hand against his in People Park, smiling at him with unbridled joy in the Wonder Bar, bumping his shoulder against his as they walked to the Chinese restaurant together, making eye contact with him across the courtroom after Juniper’s verdict.

All this time, had Apollo really…felt something similar?

Klavier clears his throat. Opens his mouth again. “W-what feelings do you mean?”

Okay, maybe his brain still isn’t that caught up yet.

Apollo stares at him, dumbfounded. “Seriously?”

“I-I just want to be sure!” Klavier yelps. His heart is pounding in his chest, his hopes the highest they’ve ever been, but—he needs that indisputable proof. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Apollo mutters. “I hate you. You’re so—”

He pushes himself up from his chair and stalks around his desk. Klavier can only stare, his muscles paralyzed, as Apollo gets closer. His cheeks are still pink, but his gaze makes deadset eye contact, even as he reaches forward past the chains and grabs Klavier by the collar.

The last lock shatters at the same time Apollo kisses him.

Klavier has kissed a lot of people. He has no shortage of experience, but still—his brain immediately shuts down when Apollo’s lips meet his. He’s operating on pure instinct as he leans into him, his free hand tangling in Apollo’s hair.

Apollo’s hands cup his face, and Klavier’s knees nearly give out. He’s so soft, and warm, and Klavier decides he doesn’t need to regain control of his muscles, actually. He’s a hundred percent fine staying like this for the rest of his life. No need for air or anything like that when he can feel Apollo’s breath against his skin, his heartbeat—

Someone clears their throat behind them.

Apollo yelps, jumping away from him and knocking several case files off the desk in the process. Klavier blinks, offended at the interruption, but the words on his tongue evaporate as soon as he turns around and sees who’s there.

“Ah—Herr Wright—” Klavier stammers, at the same time Apollo drowns him out with his Chords of Steel screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK MR. WRIGHT I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T COMING BACK?”

Phoenix winces, stepping into the office. Klavier hadn’t even heard him open the door. “Language and volume, Apollo. We’ve talked about this.” He glances at Klavier, quirking a brow. “And it seems like we have to implement a new rule about prosecutors in the office, hmm?”

He doesn't seem that surprised, given the circumstances. Then again, maybe he just feels vindicated by his assumption all those months ago. Klavier’s face feels like it’s on fire. A glance at Apollo’s bright red cheeks tells him he feels the same way. 

“Oh, by the way, Prosecutor Gavin,” Phoenix says casually. “Edgeworth said you have something for me?”

Right. Klavier had nearly forgotten the entire reason he came here in the first place. He lifts the magatama, still tucked in his hand. He’s surprised his fingers haven’t gone slack and dropped it during this whole ordeal. 

“Thanks.” Phoenix strides forward and plucks it out of his grasp. “How silly of me, leaving it at Edgeworth’s office. Glad you were the one to bring it back, though. And thanks for staying here alone without me, Apollo.”

His tone is…strange. Klavier frowns, and the thought hits him.

Nein. No way.

“Herr Wright,” Klavier says slowly, not sure if he wants to believe it. “Did you...plan this?”

Phoenix winks at him as he slides the magatama back into his pocket. “No.”

Klavier no longer has the magatama, but even he can see through that. Apollo’s hand immediately wrapping around his bracelet confirms it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“WHAT?” Apollo screeches “You planned this—?”

“Technically, it was Trucy and Athena’s idea,” Phoenix says. “Oh, and your friend Clay Terran helped.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Apollo mutters under his breath. Klavier wants to die a little himself. So basically everyone?

Then a somehow even worse thought occurs to him. “Was Herr Edgeworth in on it?”

“I plead the Fifth for his sake,” Phoenix says, grinning like a Chesire, and Apollo buries his head in his hands.

Klavier stares. “How did you even—”

“Convince him? Because I’m his beloved husband, of course.” Phoenix pauses. “Also, I owe him a lot of favors now.” 

Oh Gott. Klavier doesn’t know how he’s going to ever face his boss again. 

“Anyway!” Phoenix claps his hands together. “Now that you two have things figured out, get out of my office.”

“Uh—” Klavier isn’t sure how figured out they are yet. But Apollo’s head snaps up, and he thankfully interrupts before Klavier can say something embarrassing. 

“What?” Apollo glances at the clock, bewildered. “But my shift—”

“I’m granting you leave for the rest of the evening,” Phoenix says. “Unpaid, naturally. Now shoo. Have fun together. Be young.”

Apollo somehow manages to blush even redder. His gaze slides over to Klavier, and Klavier can read his expression loud and clear for the first time this evening.

It’s a question. An invitation, a mental hand stretched outward.

Klavier nods and takes it.

“We’ll go,” he says softly. “Sorry to intrude so long, Herr Wright.”

Phoenix waves a hand. “No worries. Just make sure Apollo comes in at a reasonable time for work tomorrow.”

“Shut up,” Apollo grouses. He turns back to his desk, grabbing his keys and phone. “And tell the girls to never do this again, Mr. Wright.” 

Phoenix is already heading for his side office, not even glancing back to respond. “Trucy told me to tell you you’re welcome in advance,” he calls over his shoulder.

Klavier can’t help but chuckle at that. Apollo glares at him.

“She was conspiring against you, too!”

“Ja,” Klavier says as he walks towards the door, holding it open for Apollo. “But I suppose at least some thanks are in order for her efforts.”

Apollo’s expression softens a little. “I-I guess,” he grumbles quietly, stepping through the doorway. Klavier’s heart flutters.

They enter the hallway, the door falling shut behind them. For a second, neither of them say anything. Klavier looks at Apollo, his mussed-up hair and red cheeks, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat again. 

But not from fear this time. From hope.

“We’re really dumb,” Apollo says after a long moment. Klavier laughs.

“I think that’s an understatement.”

Apollo looks up at him, hesitant. The fire in his voice seems to have died down, and he seems almost a little shy now. “H-how long have you known? About your…”

Klavier swallows. “A year.” Though he suspects he first developed the feeling months earlier than even that. “What about you?”

“A couple months,” Apollo mumbles. Klavier blinks. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, I know I’m late to the party.”

“I don’t think I can judge anything, Herr Forehead,” Klavier says. He’s still a little haunted by the fact that Trucy realized before him.

Apollo scrunches his nose adorably. “Don’t ‘Herr Forehead’ me at a time like this.” 

“It’s a term of endearment.” 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Apollo grumbles. Then he freezes, “Uh—I mean—”

Klavier’s heart skips a beat. Might as well confront the truth head-on, now that he knows the whole picture. A burst of courage makes him take one of Apollo’s hands. Apollo doesn’t pull away, and his spirits rise even higher.

“Let’s not set records for ‘the shortest relationship ever,’ ja?” Klavier murmurs. “Herr Wright has already given you the night off. Do you want to grab dinner together? We can go back to that Chinese restaurant if you’d like.”

Apollo glances up at him. He’s still blushing, but his gaze is firm. “For a date?”

Ah. Klavier falters a little from his directness. “I-if you want it to be.”

Apollo doesn’t say anything, for a moment. Klavier holds his breath as what feels like an eternity passes by, until…

“Yeah,” Apollo says finally. He smiles at him, radiant, and squeezes Klavier’s hand. “Yeah, I’d love that.” 

And this time, Klavier doesn’t even need the magatama to know he’s speaking from the heart.