Archive of Our Own

The first time Klavier heard Apollo speak Japanese was over a year into their acquaintanceship, during an outing to the Sunshine Coliseum park with Vera. 

After several months of interacting with the outside world, Vera was growing less and less overwhelmed by it all, but she still only seemed at ease when she was with people she knew in open places with no crowds. Because of that, the Wright Anything Agency and Klavier took to going on picnics and walks with her so she could go out without being alone. It was nice company, and Klavier often found himself looking forward to these outings.

This particular afternoon, Apollo and Klavier both had their first free day in a while, so even though Trucy was in school, they had agreed to meet up with Vera and catch up for a bit. 

After having to deal with several chaotic cases in a row, Klavier personally felt that he desperately needed the chance to talk to someone who was not another prosecutor, detective, nor witness, and no doubt Apollo felt the same.

“Sorry I’m late,” Klavier said, trying to keep from panting as he caught up to the others just before the crest of the hill overlooking the park. “I ran into some fans.”

Apollo frowned at him, which Klavier felt was unfair. The delay was hardly his fault. His baseball cap and loose hairstyle usually were enough to keep him from being recognized, but he couldn’t predict everything.

“Oh, come on, do you think I’m rude enough to ignore people when they adore me so?” Klavier asked, mock outraged. Humor was always his best deflection. It was easier to take offence at Apollo’s annoyance than to explain himself.

Vera giggled and seemed to relax, as Klavier had hoped, but Apollo’s expression didn’t shift.

“Are you alright?” Apollo asked.

Klavier’s heart skipped a beat. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a lovely day and I am here with two lovelier people.”

Apollo simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even need to say anything for Klavier to remember all those times in court when Apollo pointed out some small tell in a witness’s body language that even Klavier had completely overlooked. There was no telling lies in front of Apollo. Message received. 

“Fans don’t normally make you fifteen minutes late to things,” Apollo said.

“I suppose they were a bit pushier than most,” Klavier admitted, which was frankly a huge understatement, but he didn’t want to get into it here on what was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon. “Very flirty. But it’s hardly uncommon. People sometimes forget that just because they know and like me doesn’t mean I have any personal attachment to them.”

Oh what a shame, too many people think you’re attractive and cool and want to date you, the struggles you must experience. Klavier could practically hear Apollo’s dry tone. 

The real Apollo, however, remained silent, still frowning.

Vera shifted slightly, like she was thinking about saying something, so Klavier spoke before she could.

“But enough about me, how have the two of you been?” Klavier asked as he started walking up the path towards the park. There was no point in complaining about how uncomfortable he felt when someone wanted more attention and affection than he was willing to give and there was no way out except to hurt them.

“I... saw a couple of my cousins recently,” Vera said, matching his pace. It hadn’t been Klavier’s smoothest deflection, but she had let the conversation change topics quite gracefully, for which he was grateful.

“You have relatives?” Apollo asked, though not before shooting Klavier a look. Of course Apollo would not be so quick to overlook it.

“Distant ones,” Vera said. She wasn’t looking at either of them. “On my dad’s side. We got in touch during the—the funeral. They were in town again last week.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Apollo said. “Or—was it? I know family can be tricky.”

“No, it was nice,” Vera said, smiling faintly. “Or, it wasn’t bad, at least. They... I still don’t know them well. But they said I could visit them on their farm if I ever wanted a break from the city.”

“That sounds lovely,” Klavier said. “Will you take them up on that?”

“Maybe,” Vera said quietly. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Apollo nodded. “Fair. I’d feel a bit awkward visiting some of my adopted cousins too, since I'm sort of an outsider in the family and we only kind of share a language. They’re nice people, it’s just sometimes a bit awkward, you know?”

“Yes,” Vera said, nodding. “Do you have family like that, Klavier?”

“Er, no,” Klavier said. His parents had both been only children, and other than visiting his mother’s parents in Germany when they had still been alive, he hadn’t ever met any of his extended family. “I don’t have any family other than—I don’t have any family left.” 

The mood turned sharply cold despite the sun’s warmth, and Klavier wondered why he was the one constantly bringing the conversation down that day. 

“I’m sorry,” Apollo said softly, sounding almost guilty even though it wasn’t his fault.

“Family is overrated anyway,” Klavier said too quickly. Maybe Vera and Apollo would have replied to that; Klavier didn’t know because he was carefully avoiding their gaze, and before anyone could say anything more, the familiar screech of someone testing a microphone rang through the air.

“What?” Apollo said, jumping slightly at the sudden sound. 

“Was that...?” Vera asked as they reached the top of the hill and looked down at the park below.

“Ach, looks like we weren’t the only ones to think coming here today was a good idea...” Klavier muttered. On the small outdoor stage, a rock band was setting up to perform, gathering a small crowd of people nearby. He didn’t mind the people or music, but he knew his two companions were more averse.

Sure enough, Vera was eyeing the scene a bit warily and Apollo looked annoyed.

“Urusai naa, konna ii hii noni...” Apollo groaned, quietly enough that Klavier was only mostly sure that he hadn’t spoken in English.

“What?” Klavier asked, too surprised to even register that he didn’t really need a translation to understand the clear complaint in Apollo’s tone. Even though Apollo had mentioned several times that his adopted parents were Japanese, Klavier had never heard Apollo speak in any language besides English. He only knew Apollo knew Japanese at all because of an offhand comment he made about a strange translation on the menu of an udon restaurant they had gone to once.

“I don’t see why they have to ruin a perfectly nice day with their noise,” Apollo grumbled, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the band.

“Come on, it’s not bad from this distance,” Klavier said, rolling his eyes. “You just hate rock music. If we head towards the other side of the stadium, they probably won’t even be audible. Or I could drive us somewhere else.”

“This is fine,” Vera reassured him. “I’d prefer not to go towards them, but I don’t mind hearing them in the background.”

Klavier searched her face for any hint of a lie, but found none. Vera of even three months ago likely would not have been this comfortable with their plans being disrupted, but now she mostly just seemed determined.

“Sure, fine,” Apollo said, which cemented the certainty in Klavier’s mind. Apollo never would have agreed if Vera was genuinely uncomfortable, and he had a much better knack for reading those kinds of things than anyone else Klavier met, with the potential exception of Trucy. “You said you had ideas for a new art project, right, Vera?”

As the group began to walk away from the performance, Vera’s eyes lit up, excitedly detailing the vision she had in mind of a small series of paintings.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Klavier snuck a glance at Apollo. Of all people, Klavier would not be the one to criticize someone for slipping a few words of another language into their ordinary speech. Still, for Klavier, it had been a conscious decision to play up his German heritage and partial upbringing for his musician persona. It had eventually grown into a habit, but Apollo had never done anything like that before.

Maybe it was a new thing he was trying out or the influence of someone Klavier didn’t know; people’s speech patterns changed regularly, after all. With an internal shrug, Klavier turned his attention back to Vera. It was probably just a strange one-time thing, not really worth wondering about, he figured.

That dismissal was soon proven to be wrong, however. The next time it happened was a week later, when Apollo was over at Klavier’s house, solidly beating him at MarioKart.

In Klavier’s defense, it was his first day ever playing the game, and he still hadn’t gotten the hang of all the controls and what each special item did. He had come in last place every single one of the ten rounds they had played so far.

“I don’t see why we can’t just play something I’m more adept at,” Klavier complained, as Apollo started the next round. “If you enjoy seeing me lose so much, you could simply take on more cases against me.”

Apollo snorted, his eyes already fixed intently on the screen with all the concentration he showed in court. “You don’t understand, I’m not fighting you, I’m training you. Every single game night, Trucy completely trashes me—”

“Like you’re doing to me now?”

“—and I need someone on my side to sabotage her so someone besides her can finally take the MarioKart championship crown and Mr. Wright will stop laughing at me.”

Klavier would have raised an eyebrow, but their cars had just been set off through some cobblestoned village, and he was too busy trying not to bounce between the edges of the narrow street like a slow-moving ping pong ball. Every time he shifted the angle of the wii remote, it either didn’t move him enough, or he overcompensated and crashed right into the other edge of the road and getting back up to speed took him far longer than it had any right to.

Driving an actual car through this would be easier, Klavier thought grumpily. At least he knew how to work those. Even if he was pretty sure he would die trying to make his car jump over a channel of lava.

Despite his best efforts, he bumbled his way through the track. If this was a real town, he would have had to pay millions in damage, but fortunately for the Yoshi figure he was controlling on screen, everything remained firmly intact.

When Klavier finally finished one lap, he glanced up to the section of the screen below his, which showed Apollo to be on his second lap in third place. Sighing to himself, Klavier gritted his teeth and continued to push through the best he could. Even though he was not the most competitive of people, it was still grating to be consistently so bad at a children’s game. 

At least it was Apollo he was losing to. Despite all the complicated history between them, he felt more at ease with Apollo than anyone else. Sometimes it seemed like the whole world had demands of him, each person wanting him to be their own version of him, but with Apollo he could simply be. He could be a mess, be a failure, be odd and less than perfect, and that was fine because Apollo had no expectations to disappoint.

“Hey, Klavier?” Apollo said after another minute, his voice full of barely concealed laughter. “You do know that you’re going in the opposite direction, right?”

“What?” Klavier scowled at the screen. Things did seem a bit off and perhaps too familiar for a track he had supposedly only gone through once. “Oh.” With a sigh, he turned the car in a half circle, bumping a wall only once and managing to avoid falling into the river. Progress.

Apollo laughed. “How did you not notice your dot was going the other direction?”

Dot? Klavier wondered for a moment, before his eyes landed on the map on the corner of his half of the screen. “Ah... I forgot to look at that.”

By this point, Apollo was laughing so hard that he had fallen back three places. “You forgot? And just didn’t even notice that all the arrows are pointing the other direction?”

“Look,” Klavier scoffed. “I’m still new to this.”

“Hah, you sure are,” Apollo said, grinning. He had started to pay a bit more attention to his car which was now edging back up to fourth place, but he still turned away for a moment to give an exaggerated eye roll. “Homma ni aho yan naa.”

“What?” Klavier said because that was weird . It was one thing to grumble to yourself in a different language, but straight up telling someone something in a language they didn’t understand was plain odd.

A faint pinkness gave away Apollo’s embarrassment, even as he shrugged nonchalantly, like saying random things in Japanese to people was just something he did on a regular basis. “You’re such a dumbass,” he said, and it was only when Klavier heard this in Apollo’s usual short and slightly dry manner that he realized that what Apollo had originally said had been full of affection.

What did that mean? Klavier wondered, repeating the phrase in his mind to the best of his ability. He wanted to remember every syllable.

“You don’t even notice when everyone else is winning,” Apollo scoffed. Klavier focused back on the game and realized that sure enough, while he had forgotten to move his controller, every other character had crossed the finish line, leaving him stranded somewhere in the second lap.

Klavier let the controller drop to the floor. “I’m tired of this game, if all you’re going to do is tease me. Don't you know positive reinforcement is better for teaching, Herr Forehead?"

“Like you know all about teaching,” Apollo said, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course,” Klavier scoffed, as inspiration struck. “Want to make a deal? I spent an hour on this, so you spend an hour letting me teach you something.”

“Teaching me what?” Apollo asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Klavier wasn’t sure what he had ever done to earn this much distrust when currently it was Apollo who was acting strangely. “You’re not going to make me ride your motorcycle, are you?”

So that was what this was about. Klavier grinned. “Well, I wasn’t going to, but since you seem so interested—”

“No!” Apollo said quickly. “Pretend I didn’t say anything! I’d rather do anything else.”

“Hmm,” Klavier said, tapping his chin with a finger, just to draw out the suspense. He cast his eyes around the room. “Anything, huh?”

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I,” Apollo muttered.

“What about guitar?” Klavier said brightly.

Apollo choked. “What? You know I don’t like your loud music—”

“I’ll teach you acoustic,” Klavier said. He glanced at Apollo. “That means without electri—”

“I know what acoustic means,” Apollo said, turning an odd shade of pink. Klavier wouldn't have been able to look away even if he wanted to. “I just—That’s something you’re actually good at.”

“Yes? You wouldn’t want me teaching you something I was bad at, would you?"

“No, I mean.” Apollo waved his hand. “You’re like the best there is, why bother wasting time with a beginner?”

“‘Best there is’?” Klavier asked, feeling his grin widen and heart rate pick up. Was that really what Apollo thought of him when he wasn’t rolling his eyes at the extravagant costumes and cheesy lyrics or wincing at the noise of his concerts? Klavier knew he was good, but he was hardly the most popular or skilled guitarist out there.

“Shut up,” Apollo said, hunching his shoulders in as he sank further back into the couch. By now, his face was approaching red. “Just—you’re professional.” 

“You’re not just a random beginner though,” Klavier said, helplessly endeared by Apollo's embarrassment. “You’re my friend , so nothing we do would be a waste of time. Playing music makes me happy, and I want to share that with you.”

“Oh my god,” Apollo said, still not looking anywhere near Klavier’s face. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Okay fine, I’ll do it. Just... let me go to the bathroom first.” He jumped up from the couch, still avoiding Klavier’s gaze, and fled the room.

Fighting the urge to cackle slightly to himself, Klavier leaned back against the arm rest and pulled out his phone, the phrase that Apollo had said earlier still running through his mind.

Apollo had sounded so affectionate when he had said it, like nothing Klavier had ever heard towards him. Maybe he had used that tone on Trucy once or twice, but she was his long lost sister and a delight in general, so of course Apollo would be like that with her. There was a part of Klavier that thought something said like that could only be a confession of love, but that was probably just wishful thinking. Klavier had known Apollo long enough to know that he rarely expressed his affection so directly.

Klavier typed the phrase into the search engine to the best of his ability, adding “japanese translation” at the end.

That turned up with nothing, so tried changing the spelling and breaking it up into parts that may or may not have been individual words. Most results came back with random things that couldn’t possibly be relevant unless Apollo was much more nonsensical than Klavier thought.

One thing that did come up was that “aho” meant stupid or idiot, so Apollo might have actually been calling him a dumbass. Klavier would have been more upset, except that Apollo’s tone had clearly been more of a jest than an insult.

Still it was odd that Apollo had done it in this way, instead of straight up saying it in English the first time around.

Before Klavier could ponder it much longer, Apollo returned, his face mostly back to its normal shade of color.

“So,” Apollo said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Uh, guitar?”

“Right,” Klavier said, standing up and shoving his phone back in his pocket. “My music room is this way.”

He led Apollo to the room on the other side of the main hallway, gesturing for him to sit on one of the simple wooden chairs. He dug out an older guitar from the back of his closet and grabbed another for himself before going to sit next to Apollo.

“Here.” Klavier handed the case to Apollo. “Acoustic guitar, I even gave you the one with nylon strings because I’m nice and don’t want your fingers to bleed on the first day.”

Shooting him an incredibly dubious look, Apollo unflipped the latches of the case and eased the guitar onto his lap.

“Do you have much experience with music?” Klavier asked.

“Well, I played trumpet in middle school band,” Apollo said, which was so fitting that Klavier almost laughed.

“Okay, good, so you know what notes and chords are.” Klavier reached over to the small desk that he put his miscellaneous music stuff on, from rough drafts of his lyrics to an old metronome he had first used when learning the piano at five. The electronic tuner was sitting under a notebook. He fished it out, tossing it to Apollo who barely caught it in time. “First point of order is tuning. The strings are E, A, D, G, B, and E. The knobs at the top control the pitch, tighter is higher and looser is lower.”

“Yeah, I do know how the basics of how this works,” Apollo muttered as he set to tuning the guitar.

“Alright, now onto technique,” Klavier said, once Apollo was finished. “Guitar is pretty casual, so no need to get all complicated with hand position or whatever. Just sit up straight and strum like this.” Klavier showed Apollo how he was holding the pick, between his index and thumb, and brought it down softly across the strings.

“Like this?” Apollo asked, copying Klavier. Since he was just playing freely with no strings pressed down, the sound was discordant but clear.

“Good, good.” Encouragement was important to teaching, Klavier remembered. He wasn’t sure what came next though. It had been so long since he first picked up a guitar, and all the knowledge jumbled together in his head. “Do that a couple more times.”

Apollo rolled his eyes but complied. “Good enough for you?”

“Sure,” Klavier said. “Okay, I’m going to teach you your first chord.”

“Much simpler than the trumpet,” Apollo said. “No spending a full week just learning how to buzz your lips properly.”

Klavier laughed. An image of a much smaller Apollo pressing his lips together and turning red in frustration popped into his mind. “Okay, so one of the simplest and most common chords is E minor, like this.” Klavier was about to demonstrate on his own guitar when inspiration struck him. He leaned over towards Apollo, pulling Apollo’s hand up the neck of the guitar to the top, pressing down gently on the two fingers needed for the chord.

“What—what are you doing?” Apollo demanded.

“Demonstrating,” Klavier said, not regretting it a bit. The feel of Apollo’s fingers beneath his were warm and ever so slightly damp, and Klavier had never wanted to keep holding someone’s hand more in his life. He wanted to intertwine them and never let go, bring them up to his lips to gently kiss and see Apollo turn bright red, he wanted—

Klavier released Apollo before his thoughts could go much further. 

“It’d be easier to just show me on your own guitar,” Apollo grumbled, but he brought the pick  down, carefully holding it in the position Klavier had shown him. A twangy discordant sound came out.

“Press harder with your fingers,” Klavier said. “You can go through and pick the stings one by one to see which one you’re doing wrong.” Klavier hesitated, wondering if he was brave enough to wrap his arm around Apollo and strum for him. He wasn’t, he decided. His arm might not even be long enough to do that, and then he would just make a fool of himself. Plus touching someone’s fingers was one thing, but trapping someone like that felt invasive.

Besides, it wasn’t like Apollo needed a demonstration to strum. He strummed the guitar once more, slowly this time, letting the pick pass through each string before moving to the next. This time nothing sounded particularly out of place, each note ringing clear and strong.

“Oh, that was better,” Apollo said, strumming again at a regular pace.

Klavier walked him through a couple more chords, taking each opportunity he could to touch Apollo’s hand. Sometimes Apollo rolled his eyes or scoffed, but he never actually pulled away, and Klavier knew Apollo was never quiet about something he was uncomfortable with. Whether he thought it was a genuine romantic gesture or just Klavier being over the top though, he had no idea.

“Those are just a few basic chords,” Klavier said, leaning back in his seat. “You can play most pop songs with those. Next time I’ll teach you some proper strumming technique, but that seems good for now.”

“Ah, thanks...” Apollo said. He set the guitar down. “I don’t know if I want to keep learning though. I mean it was neat? But I’m not going to be able to practice it at home or anything.”

“Oh, is that the problem?” Klavier said. “You can just keep the guitar. It’s not like I use it much anyway.”

Apollo glared at him. “What, so you can just laugh at me when I show up again and can barely play anything that sounds good?”

“Nein!” Klavier said. “Of course not, you are a beginner, of course you wouldn’t sound good.”

“Thanks a lot,” Apollo muttered.

“I mean— Klavier hesitated, trying to bring his thoughts in order. “If someone who just started law school came to you for some advice or help, you wouldn’t laugh at them for not being as knowledgeable as you, a practicing lawyer, ja? Especially if you were the one to encourage them in the first place.”

“I guess not,” Apollo muttered. “I don’t even know why you want me to learn the guitar.”

Klavier wasn’t entirely certain either. He didn’t normally teach people to play. Still, there was a part of him that wanted Apollo to share in this, to be able to understand one of Klavier’s greatest passions, the thing that made up half of who he was. He wanted to hear Apollo sing and make music with him, to create something beautiful between the two of them.

“Well, you don’t have to learn,” Klavier said, trying to hide his disappointment. Maybe he could convince Apollo to pick up his trumpet again instead. Or put his ‘Chords of Steel’ to some better use.

“I mean I’ll give it a go,” Apollo said, though he still sounded a bit dubious. “Since you’re giving me a free guitar and all. But you need to practice MarioKart so we can beat Trucy, alright?”

“Fine, alright,” Klavier said. He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, but inside, his heart was leaping at the chance to see Apollo play his guitar again.

Apollo didn’t stop using Japanese after that. He didn’t use it all the time, often when he was alone with Klavier, occasionally around the Wrights or Vera, and never in general public like during court or an investigation. Still, Klavier would estimate that he said at least one thing in Japanese any time they spent with just the two of them.

Klavier had taken to giving him strange looks whenever he did, hoping for some sort of explanation, but after the first few times, it just felt odd. Whatever embarrassment Apollo had around it the first few times had mostly vanished by then, and Klavier just felt a bit rude and hypocritical continuing it.

The strangest thing was, there didn’t appear to be any sort of hidden meaning to it. 

Apollo would say a word or a phrase, then usually say something in English immediately afterwards. A few times, Klavier remembered what Apollo said clearly enough to look it up afterwards, and the definition that google gave him was more or less the same as what Apollo had said in English.

They weren’t exactly interesting phrases either, just every day things like “shut up” or “why won’t this stupid computer work” and such. Apollo had no need to obscure his meaning by changing languages, so that clearly wasn’t it. He wasn’t doing it in front of most people, so it wasn’t for the aesthetic like Klavier. Klavier didn’t know what options that left him with.

“Chotto kashite, hand that over,” Apollo said one evening when they were looking over some case notes at a cafe. He gestured at the menu Klavier was holding, and suddenly Klavier couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.

He handed over the menu, then asked, “Why do you keep saying things in Japanese to me? You know I can’t understand that right?”

“Yeah,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes. “I need someone to practice with, don’t I?”

Which did make a sort of sense, and Klavier immediately felt guilty for assuming that the cause of Apollo’s code-switching was Klavier himself. Just because he wanted to somehow have that big of an impact on Apollo didn’t mean it was true. Apollo could very well have his own reasons that had nothing to do with Klavier. Perhaps he did this with everyone. Except that explanation still didn’t match all the facts.

“Why don’t you ever talk to Mr. Wright in Japanese? Didn’t he take Japanese in like high school or college or something?”

Apollo shook his head. “Nah, he took Chinese.”

Klavier suddenly felt cold. He had been so sure, but perhaps that had been an assumption made on his part. Was he accidentally being racist? “But he could read some of a sign in Kurain...”

“Many characters are the same,” Apollo said. “Enough that you can often get the sort of vague gist about it sometimes. And in any case, I do speak Japanese at him sometimes. Well, more Trucy, I guess. But still.”

“Why the sudden change?”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it, Herr,” Apollo pitched his voice up into a horrendous German accent, “‘Ich zay sings in Deutsch even though I’m not actually German, ja.’”

“I don’t sound like that,” Klavier said, making a face. “And I am German!”

“But your accent isn’t naturally like that,” Apollo said flatly.

“Well at least I didn’t start doing it out of nowhere,” Klavier said.

“I don’t know why you care so much,” Apollo bit back sharply.

Klavier fell silent. He was curious, and he was getting the feeling that there was something Apollo wasn’t telling him, but pushing was clearly doing no good. And besides, what grounds did he have to criticize how another bilingual person used their second language?

“Alright,” Klavier said. “How is the guitar going?”

Apollo sighed. “I practiced the song you gave me, now shut up and let me order. Gya gya shiteru doitsujin.”

Klavier didn’t need to know any of those words to be sure it was an insult.

The best response to this, in Klavier’s opinion, was simply to turn the tables on Apollo. Since Apollo wasn’t explaining anything or showing any signs of stopping, Klavier figured he could either drive himself crazy trying to understand Apollo, or take the next step himself.

His best shot would likely be when they were alone, doing something fun and casual and completely unrelated to the law. He could say something in German, a full sentence with a meaning that Apollo couldn’t easily guess, rather than the usual simple word or phrase he did, and see what Apollo did then.

His first opportunity came on a cloudy afternoon during a relatively slow period, when the Wright Agency had only been getting very simple and straightforward cases for a couple weeks, and even the Prosecutor office was relatively uneventful.

Klavier had decided to use up some of his vacation days. He wanted to take a bit of time focusing on his own music career now that all the chaos with the Gavinners breaking up had finally settled, but once he didn’t have work, he found that all he could manage was staring at his studio wall, waiting for inspiration to strike. 

Figuring a chance of pace was in order, Klavier invited Apollo for another of their MarioKart-and-guitar lessons.

Klavier decided to start subtle. “Willkommen, Herr Forehead,” he said, when he opened the door to Apollo. ‘Welcome’ was not part of his normal German repertoire, but it sounded close enough to the English word that he was sure its meaning would be perfectly understood in context. It wasn’t that strange for him to do something like that, to add new words just to mix it up, but Apollo gave him a suspicious look as he walked past him.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Klavier had to ask.

“You look like you’re up to something,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at him. “Are you going to make me do something silly?”

“What?” Klavier asked, genuinely puzzled. “Of course not. Unless you mean playing the guitar, but if you didn’t expect that when you came here, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“...Alright,” Apollo said, heading towards Klavier’s music room. He pretended not to hear Apollo mutter skeptically to himself, “Zettai nanka henna koto shiteru.”

After Klavier offered Apollo something to drink and the two of them caught each other up on anything interesting that had happened the past couple of days, Klavier made a vague gesture to Apollo’s guitar case. “Have you been practicing?”

“Have you?” Apollo shot back.

“I can consistently finish the race now,” Klavier said, trying not to sound too accomplished at this basic achievement.

“Erai, erai, good job,” Apollo said. His voice was heavy with sarcasm, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “At this rate, you’ll be able to compete with Trucy in maybe... five years?”

Klavier rolled his eyes. “Show me how you’re coming along with the song.”

Apollo pulled out the guitar, diligently tuning each string with a tuning app on his phone, and organizing his sheet music tidily onto the stand nearest him. It gave Klavier a sort of warm feeling to watch Apollo frown at the tuner and carefully adjust each string like turning it too tightly could snap it. Although Klavier took good care of his instruments, there was a sort of delicacy that came from being a beginner and unsure of everything.

It was nice to see that even if Apollo complained about having to practice an instrument he hadn’t even wanted to learn, Apollo did take this seriously.

“Um,” Apollo said. “So.” He shut his mouth and turned red. “Alright.” He brought the pick down across the strings, just like how Klavier had taught him to. 

Klavier hadn’t shown him any particular strumming pattern, since this was Apollo’s first song and he didn't want to make it more complicated than necessary. Which was why he was confused when Apollo moved to the next chord and the next without starting the song. There was no point in doing an intro at such a basic level.

“What are you doing?” he interrupted. 

“What are you doing?” Apollo grumbled, his face turning even darker. “I know I’m stumbling, I’ve only had a few weeks to learn these chords and I have a busy life.”

“No, no, that was fine,” Klavier said. “I mean, aren’t you going to sing?” A thought struck him. “You—for instruments like the trumpet, playing the instrument is the whole point of it all, but unless you’re doing something much fancier, the guitar is meant to go with singing. Did you think I just wanted to hear you strum chords?”

“I had to learn ‘bumblebee, fly, mosquito’ on my mouthpiece for weeks before I actually got to play the whole trumpet in band,” Apollo said, staring down at his feet. “I didn’t expect to sing!”

Klavier had never been a teacher before, but even he knew that making your student flustered and embarrassed was not a good way to teach someone. “Okay, what if I sing instead? And you can just focus on playing.”

“I...” Apollo cleared his throat. “Okay, sure.”

A little more hesitantly this time, Apollo began the opening chords and Klavier started to sing. Klavier made sure not to look at him, to stare vaguely in the direction of the Gavinner tour posters on the other side of the room that he hadn’t bothered to take down yet. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Apollo by watching him.

The song was a little clumsy, with Apollo still stuttering over some of the chord changes and Klavier occasionally tripping over the tune of a song he hadn’t expected to sing today. They were not fully in sync, sometimes starting the next line before the other one had finished the previous one. 

It was, Klavier thought, gloriously unrehearsed, casual and unpolished. 

As much as he enjoyed the attention and excitement of a crowd, the satisfaction of nailing a part he had been practicing over and over again, there was something unparalleled in a couple people simply making music together for the sake of it. There was no need to be perfect in this, no pressure or worry, just an easy companionship. He would have been disappointed when the song came to its end if not for the fact that he was sure this was just the first in a line of many more songs to follow over the next few months.

“Sorry I messed up so many times,” was the first thing out of Apollo’s mouth as he lowered the guitar onto his lap. “I kept speeding up.”

“Nein, Forehead that was lovely.”

Apollo shot him a skeptical look. “Objectively, that would not be winning any Emmys.”

“Grammys,” Klavier corrected instinctively, ignoring Apollo’s glare. “But it was fun, nein? I’m not training you to be the next musical sensation.”

“Well, what are you training me for then?”

A dozen possible answers sprang to mind. “You have such a memorable voice in court, meine liebe Forehead. Is it unreasonable to think I would be curious to hear it in the context of my other greatest passion?”

“Oh, shut up,” Apollo muttered, turning a frankly endearing shade of red.

Klavier laughed. “Shall we try again? Practice makes perfect, after all.”

Apollo didn’t even say anything, merely picked his guitar back up and began to strum.

“Alright,” Apollo muttered, after Klavier had made him run through the chords of a few other new songs. “Now that I’ve made enough of a fool of myself on this guitar can we move onto something else?”

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself,” Klavier said instantly.

Apollo snorted. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, I know I’m a beginner. You certainly make a fool of yourself playing MarioKart.”

“Everything I do, I do with style,” Klavier informed him.

“Even lose horrendously?” Apollo quirked an eyebrow up at him, his frown fading into amusement.

“Of course,” Klavier said, running his hand through his bangs like he sometimes did on stage to make half his audience scream

Apollo snorted. “Yeah, well I’m no ‘glimmerous fop’, full of way too much confidence and arrogance. I just suck.”

“You’ve been talking to Ema too much,” Klavier muttered. “But playing music isn’t like playing a video game. You don’t win or lose. Music is about emotion and connection. I had fun singing with you, so if you also had fun, what more of a victory could you achieve?”

“So you’re that kind of musician, aren’t you,” Apollo said, but his cheeks were a bit pink. “Don’t console me with sappy shit. I guess I did have a bit of fun, but—oh stop grinning like that!”

Klavier didn’t think he could control his face muscles right then even if he had wanted to.

“But I would have more fun if I’m not the only one putting myself on the cutting table here,” Apollo said, emphasizing his words as if they could take away from the fact that he had admitted that he enjoyed creating music together.

“Well, I could—” Klavier started before he could remember why offering this would be a bad idea.

“You could?” Apollo asked.

Now he had to finish the sentence, Klavier supposed. Apollo wasn’t one to let things go that easily. “I’ve been... experimenting. With some new songs. Completely original and unrelated to the Gavinners. I thought that since the band broke up, maybe it was time to branch out and do my own thing, you know?”

“You have new songs?”

“Not... exactly,” Klavier said, not quite able to look at Apollo. “I was talking with my manager recently, and I started thinking about making my own album. Maybe. So I started messing around with tunes and lyrics again just to see if it was something I’d even want to do. Nothing polished, or even finished, but...”

“It would be great to see you making music again,” Apollo said, no sarcasm or dryness to cover up the simple encouragement.

Warmth settled into Klavier’s chest. “Are you finally taking an interest in my music, Herr Forehead?”

Apollo’s demeanor changed in an instant, previously-earnest eyes rolling upward as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, right. I’m just saying that there are probably people out there who’d be thrilled. And I guess you were the least terrible part of the Gavinners, so you might actually play something listenable for once.”

“Aw, I knew you liked my voice somewhere in that cold heart of yours.” Klavier couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling, so he turned it larger, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Better to hide in exaggeration than by trying to cover it up, he figured.

“Shut up, you’re only alright.”

“Keep showering me with compliments like that and I won’t even force you to go to one of my concerts,” Klavier teased.

“Oh,” Apollo said, his expression dropping. He crossed his arms. “I mean, I don’t—You think Trucy would let me skip out? She’d be all ‘we should support our friend, Polly’ and ‘it’s not everyday you get backstage tickets to a world-famous musician’s concert’ and stuff. And—and I’m not—do you think I would miss out on your first solo show after everything?”

That hadn’t been at all what Klavier meant to imply, and he had no response for that. Under different circumstances, he was sure that Apollo would tease him for finally being speechless, but currently Apollo was glaring at him like he had personally insulted their friendship, which Klavier supposed in a way he had.

“I just—” Klavier managed to say. “I know you don’t like the loud noises and crowds of concerts.”

“I can survive one evening,” Apollo scoffed.

Klavier was sure he could; Apollo had once before, after all. But since then, Klavier had come to know him better and noticed the way Apollo jumped at unexpected loud sounds, the way he shrank into himself in crowded areas and flinched each time someone bumped into him, the way he covered his ears and grimaced the one time a fire alarm had gone off in court, the way he grew snappier and asked Klavier to repeat himself more often when they were at restaurants where the people next to them were talking too loudly.

There was no doubt about it that Apollo could survive, and he would probably even be supportive and excited for Klavier, even if it was buried under at least a couple layers of sarcasm. But Klavier was not so insecure in his own performance abilities that he would wilt away if his crush didn't see him, and he didn’t want to cause Apollo unnecessary pain when it could be so avoided so simply.

“And miss out on the opportunity to give you a private concert, here in my studio?” Klavier let his voice drop flirtatiously. He had responded far too late for it to be at all natural, but Apollo blushed anyway, which was gratifying. “Much harder to get distracted without the roaring crowds, ja? Much fewer excuses to not pay attention to my best songs.”

“Oh, so you just want my undivided attention, huh?”

“Always,” Klavier said, and was instantly grateful that Apollo was not currently looking him, because his sharp eyes might have caught onto the fact that he had not been one hundred percent intentional with letting that response slip.

“Course you do, you diva.” Apollo rolled his eyes. “Anyway, weren’t you offering to show me the songs you were working on?”

“Yeah,” Klavier said on instinct. 

His mouth was suddenly dry and his chest tightened. What was he, some shy grade schooler performing for the first time? Managing and planning everything to make sure it all went perfectly during concerts was stressful, yes, but the actual performing part hadn’t made him feel like this since before the Gavinners first got together. Why was he nervous now? It was just Apollo, who had already heard him sing and insulted and praised him numerous times. There was nothing left that Klavier could fear.

“Er,” Klavier said. “Let me switch to my electric guitar first.”

Apollo leaned back in his chair. “No acoustic for the real performance songs, huh?”

“Nope.” Klavier’s hands were slightly shaky as he set his acoustic guitar in its stand and pulled out the electric one he used for messing around and writing songs on. He wondered if Apollo, with his eerie knack of picking up on subtle cues of body language, knew how much Klavier’s stomach was twisting uncomfortably. Apollo could have made a harsher comment about the guitar—and he had many times in the past.

 “I don’t normally show people unfinished versions of my songs,” Klavier said, feeling the need to somehow excuse his own nerves or the potentially bad playing yet to come. 

He had, in fact, never shown anyone outside of his band anything unfinished. The streak of perfectionism in him was far too strong when it came to music. Especially since he had become a public figure, he had grown increasingly hesitant to put flaws and stumbles on public display. Not that his songs were flawless, as many critics would no doubt agree with. And he had certainly performed songs with his band that he thought were far from great. But at least in those cases, he had been satisfied that it had been as good as it was going to get.

Klavier strummed the first note, suddenly aware of how much more intense an audience of one was compared to the thousands he had become accustomed to.

Part of him felt he should give more of an introduction than this, some sort of explanation or excuse for the strange vulnerability he felt. But he had been a performer long enough to know that it was best not to apologize for something before even starting. He settled for, “I still haven’t named this.”

He began to sing, a driven and upbeat song about picking up the pieces after a disaster and putting on a smile to face the future.

Perhaps that was why it felt so awkward for Apollo to hear him. He would know exactly what Klavier was singing about. Klavier tended to keep his personal life as private as he could, and although he was sure fans would make connections between this song and the arrest of his bandmate as well as his older brother, they didn’t know the situation like Apollo had. They hadn’t seen him hide tears or break down after weeks of pretending to be functional.

Klavier didn’t look directly at Apollo as he finished, switching instead to a softer song about nostalgia.

This song also had buried memories that Apollo could likely guess at, but it was less overt. Yes, the initial inspiration had been thinking about days before he knew how terrible his brother was, but the song had branched into a far more general vibe of thinking about simpler times.

“Those sound good,” Apollo said, once Klavier had finished.

“I still need to change some of the lyrics because there are some parts that don’t sound great,” Klavier said. “And I was thinking about adding a bridge to the first one.”

Apollo snorted. “Yeah, rhyming ‘past’ and ‘test’ is a bit of a stretch. But definitely better than a lot of the cheesy stuff you had with the Gavinners. I... really liked it. Thanks. For showing me.”

Klavier looked up at Apollo in surprise. He was not normally so direct with his compliments. Apollo wasn’t quite looking at Klavier, twisting the bracelet around his wrist. 

"Ah, thanks," Klavier said. "I, uh, am glad you liked it.”

“So are those all the new songs you’ve come up with so far?”

There were times where Klavier really wished he hung out around people who he could actually keep secrets from, but by this point he had learned ways around it. The trick was in being truthful but vague. “There’s another song I’ve been working on, but I’m not ready to share it yet.”

“Alright,” Apollo said with a nod. As expected, he didn’t push. Apollo didn’t normally, unless someone gave him a reason to think the answer was personally relevant to him.

“So, shall we take a dinner break before you trounce me in MarioKart?” Klavier asked, wanting to turn the conversation away from any chance of him spilling the fact that the third song he had written may have been slightly based off of Apollo. There was no way he was performing that in front of him ever. Which perhaps was a problem, given his promise to give Apollo a private concert, but he would worry about that later.

It was not until after Apollo left later that evening that Klavier realized he had never actually taken the opportunity to use German for anything besides embellishment.

“Oh, look! It’s Prosecutor Gavin!” came a familiar voice.

Klavier looked up from his examination of the corpse just in time for Apollo to say, “Yeah, I can see that myself, Trucy.”

“Fraulein! Herr Forehead!” Klavier exclaimed, rising from where he had been kneeling. “Guten Morgen.”

Trucy grinned brightly at him. “No, stay there. I think Polly likes it when you’re shorter than him.”

“Well, in that case.” Klavier stopped dusting off his pants and sat back down on his heels. “Herr Forehead’s wish is my command.”

Trucy giggled, while a scowling Apollo looked to the side like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than next to his sister.

“I was under the impression that you would be in school today though,” Klavier said. It was a Tuesday morning, after all. “Isn’t your spring break in two weeks from now?”

“Yeah, it is, but the teachers are on strike, so no school today,” Trucy said. “So I decided I would investigate the crime scene with Polly.”

Klavier did some quick thinking. Trucy could very well see the corpse lying behind him, and it was hardly the first one she had seen, but he still felt vaguely opposed to letting one so young inspect a dead body. He had only been a year older than she was when he started, but looking back from nearly eight years later, he wasn’t sure he could call it a positive impact on him. “I do believe that Detective Skye is in the kitchen dusting the cutlery for prints right now and could use some help,” he said, winking conspiratorially at her.

“Oh! Thanks for the hint, Klavier! You’re the best prosecutor!” Trucy said as she ran off to the kitchen.

“She’s saying that because we went up against Payne last week,” Apollo informed him. “It is impossible to get information from his crime scenes. I’m lucky if I get the autopsy before the trial.”

“He is the worst,” Klavier agreed.

“Anyway, you can stand up now,” Apollo said. “I’m sorry about her teasing.”

“It’s no problem,” Klavier said, unable to help smiling up at him. “I like looking at you from this angle.” He was lucky Ema was in the other room or else she absolutely would have thrown Snackoos at him for flirting over a dead body.

“What—” sputtered Apollo. “Sore, dou iuu imi? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I like looking at you from any angle,” Klavier said brightly, and Apollo scoffed. This was more familiar ground.

Ema wasn’t here, and now Trucy wasn’t either. It was just the two of them. The perfect opportunity for his revenge, Klavier thought. He had allowed himself to be distracted by Apollo last time, but now he could go for it before he even had a chance to forget. “I believe I’ve finished with this room,” he said, standing up once more. His heart was beating ever so slightly faster. “It’s all yours now, Herr Forehead.”

“Thanks,” Apollo said, still eyeing Klavier.

Klavier steeled himself. Although he used German all the time scattered in his speech, it had always been for flavor, with the assumption that he would more or less be understood. To speak in more complex phrases or sentences to someone who wouldn’t understand felt bizarre, like spouting nonsense syllables. Still, while it would be awkward at best in most situations, what he wanted now more than anything was to see that same bewildered face on Apollo that he had worn himself so many times previously.

Perfectly casual, like he was talking to his mother or one of his classmates from when he studied law in Germany, he said, “Ich denke du könntest trotzdem gewinnen.”

“Ich weiss ich kann,” Apollo said in what was, aside from his somewhat clumsy accent, perfect German.

Klavier stared at him.

Instantly Apollo turned bright red, his face matching his suit. “That was right, wasn’t it? I thought you said you thought I’d win.”

The only upside of this, Klavier figured, was that at least Apollo was as flustered as he was for once. 

“You’re right,” Klavier said then cleared his throat. “ How? ”

“I’ve been doing Duolingo,” Apollo said. “It’s not too hard? I can never remember which word for ‘the’ you’re supposed to be using, but it’s not too different from English so... I just wanted to know what you were saying.”

“Oh,” Klavier said, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to reply. It had been his chance to finally get back at him, but Apollo had already been one step ahead. Klavier wouldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard again. “That’s impressive to pick up so much from Duolingo. I’ll let you get to it though.” 

Klavier waved a hand around at the crime scene and tried not to think too hard about the fact that Apollo had learned a language for him otherwise he might break down and confess his love to him on the spot .

“Uh, thanks,” Apollo said.

“Tschüss!” Klavier said and practically fled the room.

Once he collected himself, Klavier went back to plotting. Since using German with Apollo was out, he had to step it up some other way.

The opportunity to collect some vital information presented itself almost a week later, when Klavier entered the break room of the Prosecutor Offices one afternoon.

Sitting in one of the couches was a dark-haired woman, her boots propped up on the low coffee table. Few would have dared these days, given who the newly-instated Chief Prosecutor was, but apparently she and Miles Edgeworth went back and she was among the few who were not intimidated by him. Klavier thought that it probably helped that as an outside consultant, Edgeworth was not her boss, strictly speaking.

Currently, she was in the middle of a conversation with another prosecutor sitting next to her, his face bright red. “Kay!”

“You are way too easy to tease,” Kay said, grinning wide enough for it to almost swallow her face.

Pretending to ignore them, Klavier made himself a cup of coffee, slowly sipping at it while scrolling through his phone until Prosecutor Debeste eventually decided it was best to avoid her affectionately sharp remarks altogether and left.

“Ms. Faraday,” he began.

“Call me Kay,” she chirped.

“Kay, I have a strange question for you.”

She raised both her eyebrows at him. “Sure, hit me with it.”

“I, ah, heard you talk a bit about your background in the Katadzuki case a couple months ago,” Klavier said, hoping he wasn’t coming off as obnoxious or rude. “And I was wondering if you could teach me a bit of Japanese?”

Fortunately Kay looked more amused than offended. “You do know that I spent most of my life with the Chinese side of my family, right? I’ve forgotten most of what I knew. You’re probably better off with Duolingo.”

“Ah, nein, I know. I’m not asking for, like, how to ask where the nearest bathroom, but more like...” Klavier didn’t actually know what to call it. He had always just thought of it as family language, but that would probably not be very clear to anyone who wasn’t him. “I meant more like... words that wouldn’t be in any ‘top twenty phrases to know before visiting’ type of lists because you use only them at home and with people you are comfortable with, if that makes sense.”

“I think I get what you mean,” Kay said. “I gotta ask though, why?”

“You know who Apollo Justice is?” Most people working in law world would have heard of him from the Misham trial if nothing else, but given that Kay was a freelance private investigator, Klavier was not sure how closely she paid attention to court cases she wasn’t directly involved in.

“Oh, of course, he’s the guy who works for ‘That Man’.”

Klavier blinked. “‘That Man’?” It had to be Phoenix Wright, since Apollo worked for no one else, but he had never heard him referred that way before.

“Ah, never mind, inside joke,” Kay said, waving her hand. “But yes, I know who he is. What’s he got to do with it?”

Klavier explained the whole situation.

“As a fellow multilingual, please tell me that I am not crazy, and that what he is doing is indeed bizarre.”

“No, I’m with you there,” Kay said. “Don’t have a clue what he’s thinking.”

“Great,” Klavier muttered.

“So you want to toss some Japanese words back at him?” Kay asked. “Why not German?”

“I tried,” Klavier said, feeling his face heat up, embarrassed at how simply thinking about their last encounter could make him blush. “He, ah, learned some German on his own. To understand more of what I say, apparently.”

Kay’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Did he also propose marriage to you?!”

“It certainly felt like it,” Klavier muttered, fighting the urge to hide his face.

“And you’re not dating, are you?” Kay asked incredulously.

“No,” Klavier said, hoping that it wasn’t extremely obvious how much he wished he could answer ‘yes’ to that question. “I’m not sure if he likes me that way.”

“I mean I only really know what Trucy tells me about him,” Kay said. “But if he learned a wholeass language to understand you better, he definitely has some sort of huge feelings for you.

That was the thought Klavier hadn’t been allowing himself to think outright the past week. Because who learned a language for someone unless they were committed to staying with them and talking to them for a long time? Who wanted to understand another person that deeply unless they loved them?

But Klavier had always been a coward when it came to things like hope. “Maybe he’s learning it for some other reason.”

“Maybe,” Kay echoed, clearly skeptical about it. “But you should ask him about it.”

“Right.” Klavier cleared his throat. “So, uh, will you teach me a bit of Japanese?”

“I can teach you a few basic stuff,” Kay said. “But you’ll have to ask someone else if you want anything more in-depth.”

Klavier nodded, relieved that Kay had let the subject change and hadn’t questioned him too deeply about his own desire to learn a new language. “I understand.”

“Okay, do you know what kinds of things he’s been saying in Japanese, that way I have an idea of what stuff to tell you?” 

“I mean I don’t know most of it, but I did try to keep a list of the things he says in English right afterwards, so I could send you that,” Klavier said. “I... attempted to remember some of the Japanese words too, though I apologize in advance for the undoubtedly horrible transcription.”

Kay wriggled her eyebrows. “No secret messages you don’t want me to know about?”

“Unless you count him calling me a dumbass, but he does that in English too sometimes.”

“Hah, fair enough,” Kay said. “Well, I’ll send you a list and give you a call afterwards to tell you how to pronounce them and everything.”

“Danke,” Klavier said. “If you ever need to know German stuff for whatever reason...”

“I mean I’d probably just ask Edgeworth,” Kay said, then laughed at Klavier’s expression. “But yes, you are definitely my second choice.”

True to her word, Kay sent him a list of several words and phrases that she could remember from her childhood and called him to make sure his pronunciation was correct. She had laughed a little at his accent, but none of the words were all that hard to say.

The only thing Klavier needed now was the perfect time to use them.

Like with his initial plan to step up his German, this would have to be at a time when it was just the two of them, Klavier figured. It was probably even more important this time around. There were too many things that could go wrong if others were around to be distracting or interruptive. He also wanted it to be casual, like how Apollo always used Japanese. No dramatic or high-emotion moments for him, just drop a word or two so subtly that Apollo might not even notice. 

Of course, this was just much easier said than done.

The next time the two of them were alone, Klavier was walking Apollo back to his apartment after they had spent an evening at the Wright Anything Agency office. The night was unusually chilly for LA, and the only reason that Klavier wasn’t offering to sling his arm over Apollo’s shoulders for warmth was that the evening had been too good to invite the tinge of disappointment at Apollo’s probable rejection. That, and they were close enough to their destination that such a gesture would have a very limited usefulness. 

“And you thought I was bad to go up against,” Apollo said, grinning up at him. “Trucy’s a nightmare. This is why I need you to sabotage her for me.”

“And let you take all the MarioKart glory for yourself?” Klavier asked. “I think not.”

“Oh, so you’re betraying me, are you? After all my lessons for this explicit purpose? I bet those red shells in my direction weren’t nearly as accidental as you claim.” Apollo narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Klavier.

“Nein, darling, I swear I would never lie to you,” Klavier said, a smile tugging at his lips. He couldn’t be bothered to hide the warmth he felt, not on a night like this one.

“Yeah, I know,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes.

It was rare to see Apollo this openly affectionate, his usual grumpiness towards Klavier more fond than anything else. Perhaps it was the late hour, sleepiness slowing down his sarcasm and softening his sting, or perhaps it was all that time spent around Trucy who always brought out Apollo’s gentler side, or maybe it was simply a nice evening filled with laughter and good company. Whatever the cause, Klavier felt a strange giddy affection, strong enough to make him want to do something stupid.

“You never did explain how I was supposed to assist you in a game where there are no teams,” Klavier said instead.

“Well, first of all you have to up your game so you’re aren’t constantly in twelfth,” Apollo said, and there was that sharpness that Klavier had been missing.

“Is it my fault my teacher never showed me how to win?” Klavier said innocently.

“Fuck off,” Apollo grumbled. “I certainly never showed you how to be last either.”

They continued to banter as they walked, and it wasn’t until Klavier was standing in Apollo’s kitchen, accepting the offered mug of tea, that he realized that he was probably supposed to have left Apollo at his doorstep instead of following him inside.

“We’ll just have to prepare for next time, and crush them then,” Apollo said with the same steely determination that Klavier recognized from every time he declared his trust in his client. It seemed almost out of place here when Apollo was still wearing his slightly battered jacket, leaning against a counter that barely had enough room for all his appliances.

“Next time,” Klavier agreed, a thrill running through his stomach at the thought of a next time. Since his band had dissolved, he hadn’t had many regular meetings with friends outside of work and walks with Vera. If he was being particularly honest, there hadn’t been many social occasions in the past few years at all, even with his band. It was nice to feel like part of something again.

Klavier took a cautious sip of his mug, wincing as the tea scalded his tongue. Apollo snorted, but Klavier ignored him. They stood there in silence for a long moment, Apollo sipping at his tea and Klavier merely letting the mug warm his hands.

“Klavier?” Apollo asked suddenly. He set down his cup and brought his hand up to twist the golden bangle on his other wrist. “I... there’s something important I think you should know.”

“Yes?” Klavier’s heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was hope or dread that he was feeling.

“I...” Apollo took a breath. “You know how I’m pretty good at noticing people’s nervous tics? And I can usually tell when someone is lying or hiding something?”

Klavier nodded stiffly. Was this about him? Had Apollo noticed something that Klavier hadn’t wanted to tell him? There wasn’t a lot that Klavier intentionally kept from Apollo, but there were things that he hadn’t outright told Apollo either, and those weren’t necessarily secrets he wanted dragged out. Was he being self-centered by assuming it was about him?

“It’s not... I have a bit of help with it,” Apollo said. He raised up his wrist to display his bracelet. “Mr. Wright says that I’m perceptive, that my eyes can focus on little details that most people can’t. But I’m not that great at knowing when to look. So that’s where this comes in. It... if someone gets tense, then my bracelet tightens. I don’t remember why it works exactly, but yeah.” Apollo looked down. “Basically I have a magic bracelet that helps me pick out lies.”

“Oh...” Klavier said, blinking at him. That wasn’t what he had been expecting, and he felt a bit guilty for the self-centered assumption. “So you’re telling me you have lie detecting super powers?”

Apollo flushed. “It’s not quite like that. But.... yeah. It just. Seemed dishonest? If I didn’t tell you? Since you’re my friend and all, and this isn’t really a regular person level of talent.”

“Thank you for putting your trust in me,” Klavier said. “It... does explain a fair amount. But I can’t say I am particularly surprised.” Klavier had known that Apollo could be unusually perceptive about other people since their first trial together. Whether it was by natural or unnatural means did not make all that big of a difference in his mind.

“Yeah well, it’s not—” Apollo waved a hand in the air. “I just thought you should know. Also Trucy can do it too. She doesn’t have the bracelet though.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good to know that if I do have a secret to keep from you, you would be able to magically sniff it out,” Klavier said with a grin. “Though I can’t imagine it’s a problem that will come up often.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “I’m not psychic, I can’t tell what you’re hiding. Only if you are. And...” He tugged at his sleeve. Klavier might not have a magic bracelet himself, but he wasn’t bad at noticing when people felt awkward about something. “I know. That you don’t lie often. Which is something I appreciate about you.”

“Wow, Herr Forehead.” Klavier placed a hand over his racing heart. “You’re so complimentary today. I might swoon.”

“Shut it, you still suck at MarioKart,” Apollo snapped.

“Aw, there’s the grumpy Apollo I know and love.”

Pink dusted Apollo’s cheeks as he looked away and did his best to frown. Affection bubbled up in Klavier’s chest. He wanted to reach out to take Apollo’s face in his hands, just to hold him until he gave up all pretenses of irritation. Knowing Apollo, that might very well take a long time, but Klavier wouldn’t mind. The charm of Apollo was his snark, the prickly exterior that gave way so easily to reveal one of the most fiercely caring people Klavier had ever known. It really was no surprise that Klavier had fallen in— 

The realization hit Klavier so hard that he physically flinched.

He had told Apollo he loved him, not even two minutes after learning that Apollo had special powers that let him know if the things people said were sincere or not. Anyone who had ever thought Klavier a genius was clearly a fool, though evidently not as big of one as Klavier himself was.

“Klavier?” Apollo asked, his face full of concern.

Maybe Apollo hadn’t noticed? Maybe he couldn’t tell the difference between jokes and the truth. Maybe he could only distinguish outright lies, because all signs pointed to Apollo caring about Klavier, and he wasn’t a cruel man, especially not to his friends. Surely he would have said something if he had been aware of Klavier’s massive crush this whole time, if nothing else than to let him down gently. Unless he had been too afraid to hurt Klavier’s feelings by refuting him.

“I—have one secret,” Klavier said, unable to bear looking directly at Apollo anymore. Guilt twisted in his belly. “You said I don’t lie... But that’s not true. And after you were honest with me...”

“Klavier,” Apollo said again, his voice soft. “I know I said I appreciate your honesty, but you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I mean, you deserve privacy. I know you wouldn’t keep anything huge.”

“I’m in love with you,” Klavier blurted out before he could think better of it.

Apollo stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Klavier whispered, his mouth moving without conscious input. He no longer felt connected to his body, guilt and worry practically possessing him. “Even before this, I knew how much you value the truth, and I was scared, but I—”

“Klavier,” Apollo said, and Klavier’s mouth snapped shut. “Okay, first of all, when I said ‘nothing huge’ I meant like, I know you’re not secretly a murderer or secretly friends with my long-lost blood relatives, not something like—” Apollo stopped, looking horrified. “Not that I meant to say that your feelings are small or unimportant! They matter a lot! But I mean—I’d be a hypocrite to get upset about you keeping quiet about that!”

Klavier looked up. “Is that... What do you mean?”

“I—” Now it was Apollo’s turn to look away. “I like you too!” he shouted before immediately turning bright red and spinning around so his back was to Klavier.

“Oh.” It was not easy to make Klavier at a loss for words. His entire life was based off being able to think on the spot, to come up with counterattacks against unexpected objections or pieces of evidence in court, to respond to all sorts of questions from reporters and fans without missing a beat. Klavier always had something to say. Until he didn’t. “Oh!”

“Say something,” Apollo begged, waving one hand vaguely behind his back at Klavier’s direction. 

“Herr— Apollo,” Klavier said. His mind was blank and the relief had not quite hit yet. “Darling. I— What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know! I don’t normally have people confess their love to me! This is incredibly awkward!”

Klavier laughed, a bit of the tension easing up. Somehow the knowledge that Apollo was just as clueless in all this as he was felt vaguely reassuring. “Do you want to go out for dinner with me?”

“Yes!” Apollo said, finally turning back around to face Klavier’s general direction, though he still wasn’t quite looking directly at him.

“When?”

“Anytime,” Apollo said quickly. “Er. I’m free Saturday evening?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Klavier was grinning so widely his lips were starting to hurt, and he couldn’t even think to stop.

“You look ridiculous,” Apollo informed him, still flushed. “Stop—grinning like that!” 

“How could I possibly stop?” Klavier asked, breathless with excitement. “I’ve just got a date with Apollo Justice!” Realizing that there was nothing stopping him from doing so, he stepped forward to clasp one of Apollo’s hands between his own. 

“I’m just me though!” Apollo protested.

“The only thing ‘just’ about you is your sense of just ice.”

Apollo groaned and buried his face in his free hand. “That was terrible.”

Klavier laughed, his giddiness bursting out of him. Who could blame him for his admittedly terrible pun when he had just confessed his love and had it returned.

“In all seriousness,” Klavier said, though he felt the effect was slightly ruined by his continued inability to keep a straight face, “I need to step up my game if you are still under the impression that I think anything less than the world of you.”

“I—” Apollo sputtered. “I... did think you were teasing at first. With the flirting and compliments and everything. You were so over the top. But then I figured you probably wouldn’t willingly hang out with someone so much unless you thought they were at least a somewhat a decent person.”

“You are far better than merely decent,” Klavier said. “And I’m sorry. I have discovered that it is sometimes far easier to hide in plain sight. I didn’t want to drive you away because I like you more than is entirely reasonable.” He didn’t think he was quite ready to admit there had very rarely been any exaggeration at all in his praise and flirtation with Apollo. Even after confessing his love and being met with returned feelings, that felt a bit much. He had to say something though. “It never was a lie.”

“Yeah...” Apollo curled his fingers more tightly around Klavier’s, his other hand coming up to twist the bracelet around his wrist. “While we’re telling each other all our secrets... I suspected that maybe... you were serious. With all that. A few months ago.”

“You did?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Apollo said quickly. “I thought it might have been wishful thinking. And. I know it bothers you when people misinterpret your intentions and pressure you into dates or whatever.”

“Apollo, my love, that was about fans !” Klavier said, utterly dismayed. Could something have happened between them sooner if he had never given Apollo the impression that his advances could be unwelcome? “People who don’t know me personally! Not you. Never you.”

“Well I couldn’t be certain!” Apollo snapped. “You probably have a dozen people tripping over themselves to be with you everyday. Maybe I was wrong. I couldn’t be the one to make the first move. I didn’t want to be one more person who made you uncomfortable with their feelings towards you. You mean way too much to me for that.”

For the second time that evening, Klavier found himself speechless. He had wanted to be frustrated at himself for possibly prolonging Apollo admitting interest in him, but how could there be room left in him for anything other than wonder at the level of consideration Apollo had shown him? Because Apollo had noticed. He meant something to Apollo. There was nothing so impossible and wonderful in the entire universe.

Klavier had no words, but affection crashed through him in an enormous wave, and he thought that if he didn’t have some way of conveying that to Apollo this instant, he would explode.

“ Thank you ,” Klavier breathed, bringing Apollo’s hand upwards to kiss his knuckles, moving upwards to place another kiss on the back of his hand. “But please never hold back on making your moves on me on me again.” He turned Apollo’s hand to kiss the inside of his wrist, right above where his bracelet lay.

“You’re ridiculous!” Apollo said, which would have held more weight if he had not looked so beautifully flustered.

Before Klavier could say anything in response, Apollo yanked him forward, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

Startled, Klavier dropped Apollo’s hand, floundering for what felt like far too long to be anything but awkward, before his own hands came up to cup Apollo’s face.

After a long moment, Apollo pulled away. “Is that more like it?” The challenge in his voice was not quite enough to distract from the slight hesitancy as he met Klavier’s eyes.

“My dearest, that was more than I ever dared to dream,” Klavier said, leaning back in for another kiss.

Dating Apollo was absolutely wonderful , literally a dream come true. Klavier got to spend even more time with him now and say heartfelt cheesy things with more sincerity and watch as Apollo sputtered out some protest. Now he could touch Apollo, kiss him, and be shown affection in return. Ema got annoyed with him for being distracted even more now, but it was all worth it.

Dating Apollo was so wonderful, that Klavier almost completely forgot about his grand revenge scheme.

When he looked back on those first couple weeks, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed Apollo speak Japanese much once they started dating. It wasn’t for lack of talking to each other. Perhaps Apollo had been too distracted to switch languages. Perhaps Klavier had gotten so used to it and been too caught up in the joy of everything to pay attention.

Regardless, it was not until later that Klavier remembered what he had set out to do.

He had been talking to Apollo about his various guitars while giving advice on what type Apollo could get for himself if he wanted to continue learning on a better instrument. He had forgotten himself explaining the differences in brands and makes, until he looked up and saw a vaguely glazed expression on his dinner partner’s face.

“Ah,” Klavier said, coming to an abrupt halt. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away there. I don’t suppose there was anything in there that was helpful?”

“Zenzen wakarehenkatta yo,” Apollo said, grinning at him. “I didn’t understand any of it.”

And Klavier didn’t understand Apollo either. While in many ways it was nice to get to know him better and yet still have things to be surprised over, this particular aspect of Apollo’s mystery was beginning to get frustrating with his lack of ability to solve it. He just wanted to know why Apollo was doing this.

“Sorry,” Klavier said, reaching his hand across the table to squeeze Apollo’s just because he could . “If you ever want to get a better guitar, we can just go to a music store and have you try a few out. I think I know you well enough to narrow the options down a bit.”

“Yeah, okay, I think I’ll just let my nerd boyfriend do the hard work choosing, since he clearly knows so much about the topic,” Apollo said. Klavier would have taken more offense at that if he wasn’t still so delighted at being Apollo’s boyfriend . “How’s this, I’ll get a guitar if and only if we manage to beat Trucy at MarioKart.”

“Well, I’ll put a reminder in my calendar for a couple years from now,” Klavier said.

“Hey, we aren’t that bad!” Apollo protested. “Or at least I’m not, and you’re definitely improving quite a bit yourself.”

“Such praise from my great teacher,” Klavier said, grinning. “I’ll treasure that.”

Now that Klavier was reminded of his plans to solve Apollo’s mysterious language switching, he had one realization. There was no room for Klavier to be hesitant, to beat around the bush and plan for the perfect occasion that may or may not ever show up. 

Apollo had not gotten this far by fumbling, slow and uncertain, and Klavier would not get anywhere unless he did the same. There was no time to test the waters; he simply had to leap and hope that whatever humiliation he felt would be secondary to Apollo’s shock and confusion.

He gave himself one evening to look through Kay’s list of words and phrases, to figure out which words would be the easiest to use and have the most impact and make sure he had them fully memorized.

Arigatou ( p sure you know this one, but it means ‘thank you’, Kay’s note read) was too ubiquitous. Everyone knew it through pop culture, and it would mean nothing if Klavier used it. Urusai ( literally means ‘loud’, but you can use it as ‘shut up’ ) seemed a bit rude to say to his boyfriend who Klavier never wanted to be quieter or stop talking. Numbers would be a bit weird to say out of nowhere, especially since Kay had noted that different words were used when talking about the number of things rather than just the concept of the number.

But there other words that Klavier could see himself using, question words and adjectives and phrases like ‘excuse me’ or ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘what are you doing?’ Something he could slip into conversation and surprise Apollo, just as Apollo had surprised him.

Now he had his plan and a whole arsenal of methods to carry it out. All that remained was to act.

Sometimes, the best way was the simplest way, Klavier knew. Less time to dither, less room to mess up. Apollo was coming over for dinner that night, and Klavier vowed that his first words to him would be in Japanese or he would give up on the whole thing. No point in drawing this out longer than necessary.

Klavier’s doorbell rang at precisely 6:00. He practically leaped off his couch to reach the door, his heart racing with almost as many nerves as it had on their first date. Apollo had shown up exactly on time then too, which he had appreciated back then as well. It was nice not to be kept in suspense longer than necessary.

On the other side of the door stood Apollo, still in his work clothes, a little ruffled from his bike ride over.

“Hey, Klav,” he said, smiling as he leaned up to kiss Klavier’s cheek.

Klavier’s heart stuttered in response, and he was helpless to smile back. All his excitement and determination and worry died down in the face of his favorite person in the entire world.

But it was now or never, Klavier reminded himself.

“Okaeri,” he said as he stepped back to let Apollo in. Welcome back , Kay had written. As a greeting, it had seemed like one of the easiest options, something that wouldn’t need any context to prepare for.

Apollo stood frozen, one foot over the threshold. “What?”

The key here was to not lose his composure, no matter how much a part of his mind demanded to backtrack. “What?” Klavier said. “You randomly pepper Japanese into your conversations but are surprised when I do the same?’”

“I—” Apollo sputtered, flushing a brilliant red, almost as deep as his suit. “But you just—”

All of the calm and confidence that had infuriated Klavier for so long disappeared in this moment. Not so smooth now, with the tables turned, he thought triumphantly.

Klavier tugged Apollo the rest of the way into his house and closed the door behind him, figuring that this wasn’t necessarily a conversation he would want his entire neighborhood to overhear. “Did I say it wrong?”

“No,” Apollo said, still bright red. “You—it’s just—”

Now was the time to press, so Klavier asked, “So are you ever going to explain why you started doing that? Because I genuinely haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it and it’s been driving me insane, especially when you refused to explain.”

Apollo buried his face in his hands. “It’s—it’s not like it’s a secret! It’s just embarrassing.”

They were finally getting somewhere! Klavier reached forward, laying his hand over one of Apollo’s, cupping the part of his face below his ear. “You could not make me think worse of you if you tried, my love.”

“You’re always so cheesy,” Klavier thought he heard Apollo mutter between his fingers. Then Apollo sighed and lifted his face, grabbing Klavier’s hand. “Look, this was just a really stupid thought I had. And then by the point I realized how stupid it was, I’d committed to it and I thought it would be weirder to stop? Even though I think by then, there was no escaping with my dignity intact no matter what I did next.”

“Dignity is overrated,” Klavier said. “What was that thought of yours?”

Apollo didn’t meet his eyes. “So you know that time we were hanging out with Vera?”

“The day it all started.”

“Yeah. And she mentioned something about seeing her family. And I said something about how I get along well with my extended adopted family and with Trucy and Thalassa, but it’s still kind of complicated sometimes. And you said that you didn’t have any family.”

“I remember,” Klavier said, his heart twisting.

“So my stupid thought was that if you didn’t have a family, then I would be your family. And I know that’s probably overstepping—”

“Apollo!” Klavier couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” 

It was easy to joke, to flirt with Apollo now that it had become a part of their routine. It was harder to think about how Apollo had seen his loneliness, his lack of belonging, and had wanted to change that. If he thought about that too hard, he would probably start crying or fling himself into the sun or something like that. For this alone, Klavier would have handed Apollo his entire heart on a toothpick.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I could just like, say that out loud to your face,” Apollo said. “So. It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Speaking Japanese?” Klavier asked, a little confused.

“You have to understand,” Apollo said, avoiding his gaze. “I also know what it’s like to not have a family, to not belong anywhere or with anyone. I was pretty young when I was adopted by my current family, but I still remember what it was like before. And I remember thinking that there was no way this could last. It’s really weird to just show up in someone’s house, even if they brought you there. It—I just felt awkward, like an interloper. They weren't the first family I'd been with, and I figured they wouldn't be the last either."

“Understandable,” Klavier murmured.

“And honestly, it took me a while to start feeling comfortable there, like that place could actually be my home where I could stay. But one of the turning points was when they started teaching me Japanese? Like, learning a language is a commitment. You don’t do that to someone you expect to only stick around for a couple months. But it also felt like they were saying, ‘you’re one of us now, and there’s nothing we will keep from you.’ Especially because it wasn’t really something they spoke much outside of the house?

“So like. I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea in the moment, like a way of saying that I consider you my family, as one of whatever ‘us’ I might be a part of. That I trust you with this inner part of me or something like that. But without ever actually having to say it out loud—Oh my god, you’re crying.”

Klavier touched his own cheek. So he was. Every time he thought he had seen the full extent of Apollo’s kindness, he was surprised.

“Apollo,” he said, falling in love all over again. “That’s the most ridiculously thoughtful thing I have ever heard in my entirely life.”

“Emphasis on the ‘ridiculous’,” Apollo muttered.

“No!” Klavier said. “I mean, yes, I don’t know anyone else in the world who would come up with that idea and have the bravery to see it through. But I’m genuinely touched. I—I’ve made being German as part of my brand. But there are still parts of it that are more intimate and personal. I understand, and I can’t say that I have always been more direct about my feelings.”

“What are you talking about?” Apollo said. “You’re always upfront about everything. And sure, you hide behind that sometimes, but it’s not like you go through convoluted lengths to avoid saying something.”

Klavier thought about it for a moment. It was hard putting words to his thoughts when his brain was still wiped clean from the hurricane of emotions that came with Apollo’s confession.

“Not in the same way, no,” he said after a long pause. “I mean, I've told you that I think you're cute and funny and charming and clever and admirable and—”

“Okay, okay,” Apollo said. His face had been beginning to fade to pink, but now it turned red all over again. “I get the point.”

Klavier smiled. “Yes, well, I said all those things loudly and clearly in hopes you wouldn’t take them too seriously. But I never said that I trust you with the deepest parts of my soul, that I want you in my life, in my future, in my everything. That I want you to understand me in my entirety, even as much as it scares me, and I want whatever we make of ourselves together. Not out loud, at least.”

“Then what—” Apollo started. “Oh. The music.”

“I can’t put it into words, exactly,” Klavier said, and now it was his turn to be unable to look at Apollo’s face. It wasn’t even that he thought Apollo would reject him or laugh at him for this, just that he could not bear to be so bold about this deep vulnerability. “To me, music is one of the most important things in my life. I wanted to share that with you. To create it with you.”

“Klavier...” Apollo said, as if there were no other words he could possibly say.

“So did I say it wrong?” Klavier asked. “Okaeri? I asked Kay about it, but she isn’t fluent.” It had been an odd reaction, even with this context. He could understand surprise, confusion, even embarrassment at having the tables turned on him, but that hadn’t been what he had seen in Apollo at that moment.

“No, you said it right,” Apollo said fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s just that—in Japanese there are two different verbs for ‘to return’. One’s just ‘to go back to someplace you’ve gone to before’, but okaeri, that’s like. ‘You’ve come back home .’”

Klavier thought about it. Kay had said her dad had said that to her when she came back from school, even if she didn’t specify that it specifically meant ‘welcome back home’. 

“Well, I didn’t know that when I said it,” Klavier said. “But I mean it nonetheless. My home is always yours, for as long as you consider it as such.”

“We’ve both been rather silly about this, haven’t we.”

Klavier managed to make himself look up to see Apollo’s face, flushed with watery eyes, but still smiling.

“I love you, Klavier,” Apollo said, like it was a declaration, like it was an oath. “With everything that word means.”

“I love you too,” Klavier whispered because anything louder would cause his voice to break. “You are my home and my family, and I will tell you that everyday. But I can’t say I regret any of it, because I shape words for a living, but I could write for a thousand years in a thousand languages and never say anything half as expressive as a minute of playing guitar with you.”

“Okay, sure,” Apollo said, still blushing too hard for it to come off as remotely casual. “I’m just saying next time, maybe lets make sure we’re on the same page about our implicit love confessions or whatever.”

“Next time,” Klavier repeated, smiling at the thought. Maybe it was still too early to imagine a lifetime of this, of sharing themselves with each other, of learning a hundred different ways to tell each other how much they meant, how much they trusted them. But he couldn’t help but hope.

“Yeah,” Apollo said. He caught Klavier’s eyes, and in that moment, Klavier knew they were of one mind on this. They were both thinking of the next time and the next and the next and the next.

Apollo cleared his throat. “So, uh. Now that we got that cleared up. Were we going to eat dinner, or what?”

“Right,” Klavier said, mentally shaking himself awake. “I’ve started making pasta but haven’t finished. Do you want to help? It was my mother’s recipe.”

“Sure,” Apollo said.

Klavier paused for a moment. “In case it wasn’t clear, this is a sign of my affection towards you—”

“Oh, come on,” Apollo protested as he followed him into the kitchen. “I could tell that! Food is a universal expression of love.”

“Some would say the same about music,” Klavier said. “And yet...”

“Music is absolutely not the same,” Apollo said. “People write break up songs. You can sing for someone you hate. Nobody wants to cook for someone they hate unless they’re poisoning them.”

“You can write music about anyone, sure,” Klavier said, grinning. “But play music with?”

Apollo froze, then his eyes lit up in what Klavier recognized from court as his bluffing face. “So are you saying that any activity people do together is an expression of affection?”

Unfortunately for Apollo, Klavier had the perfect counterargument to that. “With you? Yes.”

“You—you can’t just say that!” Apollo sputtered, all sense of composure lost.

Here was the next time, sweeter than he imagined. He couldn’t wait for all the times to come.