Work Text:
Khura'in feels temporary.
Everything's felt temporary for him, really, but this is worse - it's a holiday, an escape, barely an excuse for avoiding all the problems back in his real home. His proper home: Clay's room beside his; his true home, the Agency; his true home, solving cases with his sort-of family.
How could he possibly face himself there? The mirror would feel distorted, an amalgamation of his father figures, mentors, perhaps a dead friend. Then, there was the truth of a family gained that he couldn't bear to lose. Therefore, Apollo would rather run. He'd stay here, claiming it was about Dhurke, his wish. It wasn't about him, apart from the abandonment issues. A dull ache throbs through the top of his head, shattering the thought. Staying up all night to work on a country fraught by civil war's justice system wasn't compatible with his stress headaches.
Nahyuta receives a call from across the room. Judging by their slightly annoyed, slightly amused face, and making out the word 'Prosecutor' on the Caller ID, he can guess it's Klavier fucking Gavin. Maybe the worst part of it all.
Him and Klavier - was it Klavier and him? He was never too great at grammar: had a brief thing, on and off, 'talking' but not talking about anything important or true. Two absolute cowards desperately clawing at another lie. Klavier was ultimately a reminder of both everything he'd left behind and his own failure to be brave. Nahyuta knowingly smiles and hands him the fucking phone, God damn it, is he trying to screw up his day!?
A vein most likely bursts through his brain due to the glee of a teasing Gavin;
"Herr Forehead! Haven't heard from you in a while. I know you're busy and all, but you're not busy enough to stop using that loud mouth of yours. Especially since Ema-"
He tunes out whilst Nahyuta nods, absentmindedly pen clicking as the prosecutor's voice turns into a drone. Apollo can't exactly remember when the banter between the two fell flat, but he wasn't too amused by it anymore. Between that, and their last argument about the other Gavin that shall not be named, everything feels too tense and confusing. Exacerbated by the allistic habits of Klavier's confounding tones and hidden meanings, he sighs and defaults to anything his pain riddled head can muster.
"Gavin. Yeah. Did you ask for me on the phone? Just call me then, not Nahyuta - it wastes time, I mean what if I was out of the office?" He knew the answer. There's no way anybody but Ema, Nahyuta and the Wrights has been capable of reaching him emotionally lately. He assumes it's because he's at a transitioning point in his life (not the first time, he jokes to himself), since he's not great with change.
The reality is a simple one: Apollo Justice is terribly exhausted.
The catalyst of the incident was the accident of his chubby cheek pressing way too hard on Nahyuta's phone and hanging up, the Caller ID lingering on his phone for a second, staring back at his drooping eye bags and face from an angle he absolutely hates. Perhaps he'd change his name and move to Borginia.
He's probably made him cry. He probably thinks he hates him. Apollo's heart sinks faster than he can say 'Hey, I'm a huge dick!'. The humidity in the office dries up his throat, saliva sitting uncomfortably on his tongue that pathetically wants to ask Nahyuta if he'd just talk to him instead, make up a lie that he just died on the spot and will never ever be seen again from total embarrassment.
The anxiety of knowing he will always let people like Klavier down is killing him. He needs to be a good person, a normal person, the mask Klavier enjoyed the plain face of. He wants to be that person, deeply empathetic and supportive, somebody who will offer him his all and have the answer for everything. That might have been possible that long ago, however his move to Khura'in alone proves he's never been close to achieving that personhood he so desires.
The pen stops clicking because Apollo just wants to go to bed, eviscerate his thoughts and regress into his older self, just for Klavier.
He'd have done a lot more for him then, but now he's not so sure. The doubt is devious, plotting against him, the fear that he could've been normal through somebody else has squandered the chance of his emotions improving.
Fatigue and nausea might kill him over his own lack of self worth. He thinks if he ends up assassinated, it might be their fault over his.
-
Klavier arrives with a huff and thinks he's chosen wrong by opting to surprise him. It's a shitty move, an ambush, but it has to be that way for Apollo to truly respond. Sometimes you have to hurt somebody to get the truth out of them, to provide closure. Sometimes you hurt somebody and the wound doesn't close anyway.
He missed his opportunity, he supposes. I mean, famous rockstar Klavier Gavin travels to a different country to see a nobody he's not even dating? It doesn't seem plausible. An uncomfortable thought that his identity is fragmented to the point where he wonders whether Herr Forehead liked down to earth Klavier or the one that hid behind quiet anger and strained chuckles.
Klavier arrives with a sigh and definitely knows he's chosen wrong when he looks through the window and sees the shock of an empty, mortified Apollo Justice nearly fainting from his ex-friend-rival-guy-I-hooked-up-with-guy-I-sorta-liked appearing randomly from another country at his window, waving joyfully as if that's entirely normal.
-
"What the actual fuck, Gavin? Do you have any idea how terrible of an idea this was? You know I hate surprises on this scale. You know this is just why you need to be open, this is why..."
"It's why what, Apollo?" Apollo. Gavin's lip might as well be trembling and his eyes widening like a puppy's. He has to be the bad guy, because he's the one with boundaries. It's always him being the bad guy because Klavier is the one who tenderly uses his true name and goes a mile doing grand gestures for him, a nobody.
He might as well own up to being a shitty person.
"It's why we're not really talking at our usual, our usual sort of pace. It's why I'm feeling so numb towards everybody in my life. Nothing feels open but it's also like we're too exposed. It's both and it's confusing and overwhelming and I just -"
"I just can't anymore, Klavier. I'm sorry. It hurts so much to disappoint you like this."
Klavier stares and hesitates to smile.
"Herr Forehead... I'm not disappointed. You're still my friend."
The word endures.
Friend. It didn't feel so right, the way he said it.
It might have been the constricting bracelet on his wrist, and Klavier's eyes bulging out at the tightening as he choked the lie out.
"Yeah, Prosecutor Gavin. I guess you're my friend too."