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Apollo Justice, in general, considered himself a positive kind of guy.
Easily nervous? Yes. Often overwhelmed by courtroom stress? Yes. Negative? No.
Yet.
Yet.
Every now and then everyone had one of those days, it was just a fact of life, and for Apollo, that day was today.
Court proceedings had dragged on longer than anyone had been expecting, thanks to the opposing counsel being more unrelenting than usual – which was even worse given that it was someone he was unfamiliar with – and just when all he wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed, it had started pouring it down outside on the one day he hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella.
He could call a taxi, but the fare was extortionate and thanks to having a light case load for the past few months he wasn’t sure he could spare the money and make rent. The bus fee was significantly cheaper, but the nearest stop he could get on at was a few streets away and his bag – with all its vital legal documents inside – wasn't waterproof enough to survive the journey.
Calling Mr Wright wasn't an option either, mostly because he didn't have a car but partly because Apollo wasn't sure he'd even pick up if he made the effort to call. If Trucy had barely seen him the past few weeks then what luck did he have?
So here he was, stuck in the lobby of the courthouse while he waited for the rain to lighten up or the building to close and force him out, whichever came first.
With each passing hour, the latter was looking more and more likely, no matter how much the forecast promised “sunny spells.”
(again, apollo didn’t consider himself a pessimistic kind of guy.
he was realistic, though, and when it’s been raining for the past four hours straight, and it’s so dark outside the sun might as well have set, well.
the rain was hardly going to clear up now, was it?)
One of the security guards nearby had given him a pitying nod on one of his rounds but that was as much human interaction as he'd had; most people had gone home by now.
He glanced up from his phone to check the time on the clock on the wall opposite.
6pm.
There was maybe an hour more before he really would have to leave, sympathetic security guards or no, and then an hour or so after that when the summer sun would finally dip below the horizon and stop helping him forget just how late in the day it actually was.
Another glance out of the window over his shoulder revealed that, yes, it was still chucking it down.
He sighed and went back to his phone.
Reading over the notes from today's case had quickly gotten boring and frustrating, so he'd settled for swapping between the news, social media, and that one game Trucy had convinced him to download a couple of months ago that he'd made her swear not to tell anyone he still had.
(when she'd asked, he'd claimed he'd kept it in case she got bored and wanted something to do while they were at a crime scene or something.
as expected, she hadn't bought it for one second.
you can just say you like the art, polly.)
Thank the Holy Mother he'd thought to bring a phone charger, or he would have been in real trouble.
Engrossed in his phone as he was, he barely noticed the sound of heeled shoes thumping against tile flooring getting closer and closer until he noticed the pair of black combat boots enter his peripheral vision.
He glanced up and immediately jerked back.
"Ah!"
Twist of blonde hair falling over his shoulder, Klavier Gavin stood up from where he'd been leaning into Apollo's personal space and reached up to adjust the bag on his shoulder. The smile on his face seemed just as mockingly genial as always, but definitely with a hint more amusement than normal.
"Herr Forehead," he greeted.
"Don't-" Apollo fumbled his phone and clutched onto it tighter to avoid dropping it. "-do that! It's rude!"
Klavier laughed. "I would argue it was rude of you to ignore me."
"You literally just walked into a room."
"And when someone demands your attention, you give them it!" He struck a dramatic pose that sent Ema's voice echoing in his head.
Glimmerous fop.
Usually he'd say she was being overly harsh, but...
"What are you doing here anyway?" He asked, relaxing his grip on his phone now that he was sure it was secure in his lap.
Klavier waved a hand dismissively. "The records room has not yet been digitised, so I was forced to come here on foot. Oh, to have a simple case!"
This, at least, Apollo could relate to.
"And you, Herr Forehead?" He was doing that leaning thing again. "I didn't run into you down there, and the courtrooms closed hours ago. Unless you are sneakier than you first appear," he added with a wink.
"Yeah, well." He took the opportunity to cast another hopeful glance outside – why are you winking at me like that Gavin? – but it was raining just as heavily as before, if not more. "Forgot my umbrella."
Klavier made a pitying noise that sounded sincere, but Apollo didn't trust it. Not for any particular reason, but being tired and cranky made him more suspicious than normal.
"So? What will you do?"
Apollo shot him a look. "Wait 'til it stops? What else am I supposed to do?"
"I hear walking in the rain can be quite refreshing."
"Not for my court documents."
"Ah." He winced in sympathy. "Is that bag not waterproof?"
"No." He'd meant to buy a new one, but cases had been inconsistent and funds were tight enough that splurging on a new bag – even one that would be helpful – wasn't his first concern.
Fortunately he was distracted from his economic woes by Klavier untwisting his hair with efficient, practised fingers and pulling it up into a loose bun at the back of his head. Then, he grabbed a black face mask from a side pocket in his bag and put it on, adjusting it so it was snug under his chin and the entire lower half of his face was neatly covered, then tucked any flyaway hairs behind his ears.
It changed his appearance so completely that Apollo almost did a double-take.
"My adoring fans," he explained, seeing his expression. "Sometimes it is best to avoid them, ja?"
Apollo wasn't sure he understood on a personal level, but having been to a Gavinner's concert and seen Trucy's social media feed, he could definitely see why Klavier might take precautions. Those 'adoring fans' could be terrifyingly observant when they wanted to be.
The only thing was-
"Your outfit, though?"
Klavier looked down at himself – at the fitted leather pants, black shirt unbuttoned far enough to reveal a hint of collarbone, and the expensive purple blazer – as though surprised to see himself wearing something so blatantly on-brand.
At least, Apollo noted, he'd taken off the Gavinner's necklace; that would have given him away in a heartbeat.
(he ignored the fact that klavier looked strangely naked without it, like a vital piece of him was missing, and that he wasn't actually sure when he'd last seen him wearing the thing. it wasn't his business.)
(it wasn't.)
"Ach, well." Klavier ran a hand through his fringe, briefly dragging it over the top of his head before it flopped down to the side. Now that Apollo thought about it, he'd probably left it loose from the bun just so he could still mess with it like he always did. "I still have standards."
Apollo rolled his eyes. “So? Where’s your helmet?”
Strangely, his lips pulled down at the edges. Only slightly, and he quickly forced them back up, but enough that Apollo could recognise the expression for what it was – weary.
“Ach, my darling! My beloved! She gave up the ghost yesterday morning!” He was exaggerating his movements, swooning like a Victorian lady, but there was genuine upset behind it all.
Knowing better, Apollo chose not to bring it up. 'The hog' was sacred ground.
"So, what, you're walking like the rest of us mortals?"
"I do not see you walking much of anywhere, Herr Forehead."
"Ouch."
Klavier seemed to debate something for a moment or two, Apollo's bracelet contracting and expanding against his wrist to the point of it almost being painful.
Then-
"My bag is waterproof."
Apollo tilted his head, confused. "Yeah? We did establish you have more money than me. Most of the planet, probably."
"No, I didn't mean-" Klavier sighed and swung his bag around so that it was open between them. "I meant, Herr Idiot, why don't we put your precious documents in my bag? I can drop them off at your hokey office tomorrow, ja?"
Huh?
Of all the ways he'd imagined this conversation going, this definitely wasn't it.
Logically, he knew that Klavier was a fairly generous guy – how he acted around Trucy was proof enough of that – but that generosity had never been directed at him before.
It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, though.
"But-" Apollo's wrist was practically burning and it was taking all of his self-control to not rub at it. Lucky, otherwise that comment about the size of their office wouldn't have gone unchallenged. "-isn't that an inconvenience to you? And what if you snoop in my files? It'll be a violation of-"
"-nothing," Klavier interrupted mildly, "but I take your point. I'll just walk you home." This he punctuated with another wink that actually made Apollo's brain briefly short circuit.
Sure, he'd gotten used to seeing Klavier across the court from him and had come to terms with the fact that he was a very attractive guy he would have to see on the regular, but this was a new form of Klavier Gavin with fewer of his most annoying mannerisms, and, more importantly, a bun.
He had no defence against this.
Maybe a few weeks ago he would have protested harder. Refused the offer and sat in the courthouse until he was physically ousted from the premises into the pouring rain, poor life choices be damned.
But somewhere in between that awful night at the concert and the Lamiroir trial that followed, Apollo had realised that the bogeyman prosecutor he’d been so dead set on hating simply didn’t exist.
Sure, there was the accent and the music and the relentless teasing, but underneath all that was someone who valued the truth as much as – if not more – than Apollo himself. How could he not respect that?
Somewhere along the line in Apollo's mind Prosector Gavin had shifted to just, Klavier; he couldn’t really bring himself to mind, either.
Maybe that was why he caved so quickly, on seeing that hand reach out for him, his papers.
(the bun really wasn’t helping though.
...if trucy was here she'd find the whole thing hysterical.)
"Hello?" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Klavier’s hand waving in front of his face. "Earth to Herr Forehead?"
Apollo startled so violently that he half-stood up out of his chair before he righted himself and slumped back down in it. Peeking outside, it was obvious this was the best opportunity to leave he was going to get.
Even if it meant walking with Klavier Gavin of all people.
"I...wouldn't mind," he conceded.
"Wunderbar!" Klavier, who had recovered from the shock Apollo had inadvertently caused him, was now beaming, if the crescent curve of his eyes was anything to go by. He held out his bag, gesturing for him to load it up. "Come on!”
"What's the rush?" He grumbled, but complied. "At least tell me you have an umbrella?"
With his free hand, Klavier pulled out from his bag an enormous retractable umbrella, covered with a purple protector and, of course, a garish facsimile of the Gavinners' logo as the handle.
Apollo sighed. "Don't you ever get tired of seeing your own merch everywhere?"
"Have you considered that perhaps I get all first editions free, hm?"
Have you considered that it’s still tacky to use your own merch?
“Yeah right, I don’t remember ever seeing Detective Crescend decked in...” Apollo trailed off, realising what he was about to say.
Shit.
Klavier’s expression hadn’t changed, nor had his hands stopped in unwrapping the umbrella, but the bracelet on Apollo’s wrist was pinching his skin.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“What for?” Klavier glanced up at him from where he was putting the cover in his bag, eyes curved in that smiling way again; Apollo almost believed it, too. “Unless you also have a murder charge you’re not telling me, Herr Forehead?”
“No, I-“ Giving in to the urge to rub his wrist, despite knowing it would make no real difference in the end, he let it go. He was the one who'd put his foot in it, anyway. “Yeah, I’m secretly a serial killer. Your dream prosecution.”
He laughed, a few stray hairs falling over his forehead. “The crowds would eat it up!”
“What, my demise?”
“Nein, my performance!” He flipped the umbrella in his palm and held it like a microphone. “Are you ready?”
For a second Apollo thought it was a continuation of the bit, but quickly realised it was directed at him.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Let’s go.”
He got up, tucked his bag tightly against his hip and followed Klavier outside.
Putting the umbrella up but leaving it lowered – whether he was deliberately showing off the Gavinners logo spiralled across the fabric was up for debate – Klavier waited for him to get closer.
The rain was pouring in great clumps off the roofed entrance to the courthouse, and beyond it was coming down in sheets so thick that there was a permanent mist hanging in the air where the water had splashed up and was remaining as vapour.
It was surprisingly quiet, too, the rain muffling the usual bustle of the city and replacing it with the constant soft white noise-like sound of rain pitter-pattering against rooftop and pavement.
Apollo paused for a second to take it in. Breathe in the moisture-thick air.
Unlike most kids he'd grown up with, he'd never taken to city life in quite the same way – the memories of soaring mountains and dense forest too close in his memory to appreciate the rough scratch of pavement beneath his feet and skyscrapers looming overhead – but at times like this, he really understood the appeal.
There really was nothing like a city in the rain.
Thankfully it wasn’t windy, otherwise even the enormous Gavinners umbrella wouldn’t be enough to save them from getting soaked to the skin. Not even Klavier's bag could survive that.
“Where to?” His voice was muffled under the mask and the rain but he still projected it well enough for Apollo to hear. All that vocal training probably.
“Um.” Internally he debated, then pointed down the street. “That way. Do you know the way to the Wright Anything Agency?”
If anywhere was going to have a spare umbrella to help him get home, or at least somewhere relatively secure he could store the documents overnight, it would be there.
(at first he’d questioned why such a run-down, messy office had as intricate and state of the art security system as it did.
a few weeks later, after getting to know the occupants a little, he’d realised asking questions like that was an exercise in futility and given up.)
“Of course!” He had the nerve to lean in conspiratorially. “Have you got an opening for a musician?”
“As if we could afford you,” Apollo deadpanned.
Laughing loudly, Klavier lifted the umbrella and stepped forward into the rain, Apollo taking a few quick steps to keep up.
(if the bracelet relaxed a fraction against his wrist, and he started to breathe a little easier, well.
that was between him and the bracelet.)
After that they walked in relative silence for a while.
They probably could have talked, but the sound of the rain pattering against the umbrella was something of a barrier, never mind the fact that Apollo was mostly focusing on just not walking into Klavier.
Though they’d spent hours in each other’s company in the courtroom, and occasionally in offices or at crime scenes, this was easily the closest they’d ever been to one another, with barely a foot of space between them.
No matter how they tried, they couldn't seem to fall into a rhythm.
Sometimes Apollo would misjudge a step and Klavier’s knuckles would brush against his forearm and they would jump apart, awkwardly apologise, and then end up doing it all over again a few moments later.
Once, Klavier adjusted his grip on the umbrella and tilted it too far away from him, so that he ended up fully out in the rain. Swearing in indignant German, he’d, seemingly instinctively , stepped closer to Apollo – who’d stopped and turned towards him to see what was going on – before righting the umbrella.
When he’d noticed how close they were, his knuckles centimetres away from Apollo’s chest as he brought up both hands to straighten the umbrella, he’d actually tripped over his words, a rarity for someone so carefully suave as him.
Apollo had been too busy trying to not inhale too heavily – it's just cologne Justice, it's just cologne your little gay heart can handle it – to really notice, but it was something that would occur to him much later.
They probably would have made the whole twenty minute journey in the shared quiet like this, punctuated only by the occasion polite apology, if not for Klavier’s phone loudly ringing in his pocket and making them both jump.
He swore, then, “can you-“
“Yeah, yeah, pass me the-“
“Here-“
There was much fumbling of umbrellas and bags as the phone trilled what could only be a Gavinners riff, but eventually Apollo was left clutching the umbrella, bag slung in front of him in a vain attempt to keep it dry, and Klavier was free to rescue his phone.
Unfortunately, there was no privacy here, given that they were huddled under the same umbrella, and as soon as the conversation began it was clear that this wasn't a call that should have been answered in public.
Later, Apollo would wonder why Klavier didn’t hang up, didn’t ask the person on the other end to call back some other time.
Perhaps it hadn't occurred to him (unlikely). Perhaps he simply hadn't wanted to (possible). Or, maybe, he'd trusted Apollo enough with what he was about to overhear (as if).
“Gavin.” A brief pause as someone chattered very loudly on the other end of the line. As they spoke, something frustrated crossed Klavier’s face, knitting his eyebrows together and narrowing his eyes. “Ja. Deadly serious.”
There was another, much longer pause. Though the distance and rain was too great to allow the words to be fully distinct to Apollo, the tone of voice of the caller and steady tightening of the bracelet around his wrist painted a clear enough picture.
He adjusted the umbrella in his hands for something to do. Mentally bemoaned the fact that Klavier was taller than him and he was having to lift it slightly to avoid making him hunch over. Turned his head to try and convey that he wasn’t meaning to listen in.
After far, far too long, the tirade seemed to come to an end – or the other person ran out of steam – and Klavier could speak again.
“There are plenty of other opportunities out there,” he said mildly, even as Apollo’s wrist burned. “For all three of you. I can reach out, make some connections-“
Something sharp and aggressive on the other line. A long silence.
“Ja.” His voice was flat. “Because I am the one to blame.”
Yelling, now.
“I hope you are not wasting all your good lines on me,” he joked, as much as someone so taut with emotion could joke. “Daryan doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
Something about this seemed to get through to the person on the other line, and their voice finally got quiet enough that Apollo couldn’t hear it anymore.
He risked a glance up at Klavier out of the corner of his eye, but found him looking in the opposite direction, expression mostly unreadable under the mask.
“We can meet next week,” he was saying. “Make arrangements. Talk to the management.” Then, so quiet it couldn’t have been meant for Apollo’s ears, “I am sorry.”
After that the call wrapped up pretty quickly, with a few promises of texts and emails to be sent later, followed by terse goodbyes.
“Sorry about that, Herr Forehead!” Klavier took back the umbrella, voice filled with cheer so false Apollo didn’t need his bracelet to be sure. “Good job with the umbrella, have you considered a career change?”
“Are you breaking up the Gavinners?” He blurted out. On seeing Klavier’s expression falter, he instantly regretted it. He should have taken the bait, played along with the joke like always.
Why couldn’t he ever keep his big mouth shut?
"Well," he said once he'd recovered, extending the sound, "difficult to continue a band with a member missing, ja?"
"But second guitar is the least important member!" ...what had he just said about his big mouth?
Luckily, Klavier laughed. "There are many rhythm guitarists who would disagree with you there, Herr Forehead! Besides-" He broke eye contact. "-I was not the only member of our little group who could shred."
The words were as casually self-confident as ever; the tone was bittersweet.
Apollo didn't quite know what to say to that, not that Klavier gave him much of an option.
"So?" He hefted the umbrella. "Shall we?"
Apollo ducked his head to try and hide the ashamed flush creeping up his cheeks, then had to jog a few steps to catch up with Klavier who had already started walking.
Falling into step beside him, he found himself nibbling his lip. It was a bad habit, really, but it was a steadying one.
He was so deep in thought that it took them briefly passing under a sheltered walkway – cutting off the sound of the rain – for him to realise that Klavier was humming.
Nothing familiar, he didn’t think, not that Apollo knew the Gavinners back-catalogue well enough to really be sure.
There was an almost lullaby-like quality to it, low and lilting, that drew Apollo in; in some ways, it reminded him of Lamiroir.
When the tune came to its natural end, Apollo having to strain his ears to hear the last quiet notes under a particularly heavy burst of rain, he said as much.
"Oh?" In a very un-Klavier-like movement, he brought his hand up to scratch awkwardly under his jaw. His ears had noticeably reddened too, or maybe it was just Apollo’s imagination. "It's- just a little something I've been working on."
"It's good," he persisted, meaning it. "Has it got a title?"
"A title-" He made a noise somewhere between a splutter and a guffaw. "Nein! It barely has lyrics! But," he added, glancing at Apollo out of the corner of his eye, "as soon as it does, I know who to tell."
Don't look at me like that, Apollo pleaded internally. It's too much for me to take.
"So, now you know what I've been up to..." Klavier trailed off and raised an eyebrow, swaying a little closer to him on the pavement as if he'd been about to bump shoulders with him then thought better of it. "How did Herr Forehead fill all those hours waiting in the courthouse, hm?"
Apollo groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Ach, but you looked so productive! I really never would have thought you were the gacha game type. And with all those handsome men!"
Oh god, he'd seen.
Apollo was never going to live this down. He'd die, if not from the inevitable mockery then from sheer mortification.
"I'm not!" Ignoring how Klavier was openly laughing at him, he huffed and ducked further into his collar. "Trucy got me on it."
And it wasn't all 'handsome men.'
"Ja, but you stayed." Voice still clearly amused, he tried again. "Honestly, did you even have a case to work on?”
“No.” Despite knowing that he was pouting in a way that Trucy always made fun of him for, he couldn’t help it. “Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have so many cases we need to spend hours in the archives, you know.”
Klavier laughed, though there was an odd twinge against Apollo’s wrist. Weird.
“What are working on anyway?” He asked curiously.
Despite the fact that the two of them weren’t quite friends, since the Lamiroir case Apollo and Klavier had made something of a habit of talking to each other about whatever cases they were working on – as long as they wouldn't end up facing off in the courtroom, of course.
It wasn’t always fruitful, but Apollo couldn’t say he’d not enjoyed the debates and discussions each time.
“Going through old cases,” he said, waving his free hand in an it’s nothing gesture. “The usual.”
The usual?
Like Klavier Gavin had ever seemed to Apollo to be the type of person to spend hours in the archives researching cases from years ago.
The guy was hard working; he wasn’t a time waster.
Apollo pointed this out, and was oddly gratified when Klavier playfully glared at him, in on the joke.
“Achtung, Herr Forehead, how you wound me!” He clutched his chest for emphasis, the umbrella wobbling dangerously in the process.
“…I don’t think you’re using that word correctly.”
“But my heart, it hurts!”
“No, not-“ He stopped on seeing the twinkle of mischief in Klavier’s eyes. “Oh boo you, Gavin.”
Laughing again, he adjusted the umbrella, looking very much like he wanted to swap hands but couldn’t thanks to the circumstances.
Feeling generous, Apollo decided to throw him a bone.
“Want me to take that?”
“Hm? Oh, nein, nein. I saw you lifting it earlier-“ Well, that was humiliating. “-and I do not wish to be responsible for damage to the opposing counsel’s arms, ja?”
Apollo gave him a look. “At least let me swap sides? So you can change hands?”
Klavier took longer responding than he anticipated, as if he'd expected him to say something else, then smiled under his mask, eyes crinkling, and agreed.
Some awkward shuffling later, Apollo was now walking on his left and the umbrella was still safely between the two of them.
It took a second for him to get back to the thread of the conversation.
“You never told me what you were actually working on.”
“Ach.”
Klavier definitely took the opportunity of crossing the road to pause the conversation again; Apollo could feel it in the tension against his wrist.
Even without that he was pretty sure he would have noticed, given the way the knuckles of his hand gripping the umbrella seemed to stand out more than before.
By now they were almost at the Wright Anything Agency; all they had to do was cut through People Park and then they were basically there.
Passing through the gates, it was amazing how the world seemed to instantly quieten, the already muffled sound of traffic and hustle of the shopping district fading away into the background to be replaced by the even softer patter of rain against leaf and grass.
Like this, Apollo could see the appeal of going out in the rain, even if People Park was a bit shabby.
He glanced at Klavier, wondering if he should prompt him again or let it go, but was relieved of making the decision by him speaking up of his own accord.
“Something…has been weighing on me,” he said slowly, quietly enough that if they’d still been out on the street Apollo wasn't sure he would have heard him at all. “I simply wanted to check.”
He rearranged the bag against his hip for something to do with his hands; it seemed safer than looking at the troubled crease of Klavier’s forehead, one that he was so unused to seeing.
It was a more honest – more complicated – answer than he had been expecting, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“Did you find the answer you were looking for?” He asked, tentatively.
Again, Klavier laughed, but this time it was low and bitter.
“I am not sure I have an answer at all.”
At this, Apollo’s bracelet contracted. Who he was lying to was unclear.
Now didn’t seem like the right time to push, so he didn’t, but that didn’t mean he was going to let it go completely.
(maybe things would be better if he was the kind of person who could. let things go, that is.)
“Mr Wright says that’s usually what happens right before everything falls into place.”
“Ah. Herr Wright.” Klavier’s frown seemed to deepen. “His teaching method seems…unorthodox.”
Apollo couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I hate him sometimes, but he’s not been wrong so far.”
Doesn’t stop him from being a frustrating bastard, though.
“It would go against the name, ja?”
It was a weak joke, but it was something, more of his usual self than Klavier had shown in the past few minutes, so Apollo did him the courtesy of smiling along.
They rounded the corner leading up past the river, past that fateful spot which had so haunted Apollo’s waking hours recently. If he squinted, he could still see the indent in the grass where the noodle stand had been left until the police had given the all clear for it to be taken back to Eldoon.
Klavier surprised him by pausing halfway up the path. If he was remembering correctly, wasn’t that been right where Stickler had been standing?
“What a strange case,” he said abruptly, a hint of laughter and something else in his voice. “Every time I thought I had a handle on it, verblüfft ! You were right there with an absurd counter argument that somehow ended up making complete sense.”
Oddly, Apollo felt heat creeping into his cheeks and had to duck into his collar to try and hide it.
“Well, you know. Just, um, doing my job.” He shuffled in place awkwardly. Handling praise had never been easy for him, and here he was with someone like Klavier Gavin, who seemed to hand out compliments with some rarity but always unerring sincerity.
And who, apparently, wasn’t done.
“'Just doing his job,' he says. Unsinn !” He gestured ahead, at the crime scene no longer there. “You solved this mess! Fought for your client far more than you had to! Truly, I was impressed.”
Apollo was grateful for the recognition, he was. God knows Mr Wright was sparing enough with it.
But there was one little thing he just couldn’t let go.
“We solved it,” he corrected. “I couldn’t have got there without you. Besides, I’m pretty sure you had most of the answers way before I did.”
Klavier chuckled, light in a way that sounded pleased. “I am flattered you think so highly of me. I was floundering just as much as you.”
Somehow, Apollo highly doubted that and said as much, adding, “and I wasn’t floundering!”
“Ja, of course. Do forgive me.”
“Fop.”
“You have been talking too much with the Fräulein Detective, Herr Forehead.”
“Is she wrong?”
Klavier laughed, loud and clear even through the mask, and turned to Apollo, some bright, unreadable emotion in his eyes that almost made him want to turn away, to pretend he'd never seen it in the first place.
(over the course of the past few weeks, he'd come to know that klavier gavin was a man of many masks, and here apollo had the feeling he was, for the first time, getting a glimpse at the person who lay beneath them all; the weight of that knowledge felt immense in a way he couldn’t fully put a name to.
acknowledging it, even just to himself, felt like the beginning of something he wasn't sure he could follow through on.)
“When did I get so many wonderful people in my life?” Klavier asked, in a way that suggested he was more musing out loud than looking for a real answer. “I must have done a truly tremendous deed in a past life.”
“Or a present one,” Apollo said without thinking, then his brain caught up with what he’d actually said.
Oh god.
Even worse, Klavier was now looking at him like he was suddenly a stranger, and oh no what if he’d ruined the one good relationship with the prosecution he had? What would he do?
(a smaller, more honest voice wondered less about gavin, the prosecutor, being in his life and more klavier the person
He was snapped out of his panicked spiral by Klavier making some aborted noise of what could only be delight, hand coming up to hide his face even with the mask already covering it. It was difficult to tell in the mist of the rain, but his ears seemed redder than before.
“This is what I mean!” He exclaimed. “I-“
Then, with frightening sincerity, he turned fully to Apollo, tucking the umbrella against his side with an elbow, resting both hands on Apollo’s shoulders and leaning down the slight distance it took for him to look him in the eye.
“I am very grateful to have a friend such as you, Herr Justice.”
Thoroughly distracted by the feeling of Klavier’s thumbs against the bone of his shoulder through his hoodie, Apollo took a second to register what had been said, and immediately felt a great sense of shame.
Friend.
He'd never really considered them to be on bad terms, brief one-sided hatred aside.
Klavier seemed like a nice enough guy in all the interactions they’d had; occasionally arrogant, but always seeking truth and justice in a way Apollo appreciated and admired, and never overly harsh when he didn’t need to be.
After the Lamiroir case, Apollo's opinion of him had only grown, what with how he’d handled the likely irreparable collapse of a dear friendship and musical career with elegance and grace.
(in court, anyway.
how he was doing otherwise was anyone’s guess.)
And yet, through all that, he'd barely given thought to whether they were friends.
Not because it seemed like such an obvious given that it wasn't worth the effort, but because the idea of someone like him – so plain, so normal, so awkward – being friends with someone like Klavier seemed so patently ridiculous to him that the idea had never occurred to him.
He'd only just recently started thinking of him as Klavier, the person, and not just Gavin, the prosecutor and rockstar.
So now, standing here under a wonky umbrella in the rain with a man like that looking at Apollo with honour and trust and something that was pushing up against all the walls it had taken Clay years to fully break down, Apollo made a vow to himself.
Not because he wanted to be looked at like that more, though he would be lying if he said that it was an unpleasant feeling.
No, he made the vow because if anyone deserved to have a gaze filled with such wonderful enormity directed at them, it was Klavier Gavin, and he had a feeling that sooner or later, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing it if he tried.
This person you believe I am, I'll never forget to be him.
Absently, he reached out to straighten the umbrella before the waterfall running off it ruined Klavier's hair; he only really became aware he was doing it when his fingers brushed over the troughs and valleys of Klavier's knuckles.
It seemed to interrupt whatever he was about to say, giving Apollo the opportunity to smile up at him, and pretend that his fingers were steady even against the rising torrent of anxiety at what he was about to say.
Pray he was conveying all that he wanted to via a medium that could never be enough.
"We're lucky to have you, Klavier."
This time, Apollo's brain noted with pointed satisfaction, Klavier's ears did go red.
He said something expressive in rapid-fire German that Apollo had no hope of understanding but thought he sort of got the vibe of anyway, then switched to English again.
"Herr Justice, honest as always!" He was staring in the space between them, at where their hands rested together on the umbrella handle.
...oh, shit he was still holding Klavier Gavin's hand.
Oh shit.
Any confidence born from the need to be as earnest as possible rapidly evaporated.
Apollo practically flung his hand away, doing it so unexpectedly that Klavier damn near dropped the umbrella with a surprised oh! noise and both of them ended up instinctively huddling closer until it was safely righted again.
They weren’t touching, but they were so close that Apollo could feel the warmth radiating off of Klavier’s skin, catch a faint whiff of the cologne he’d tried to avoid inhaling earlier, feel the tickle of his breath over his hair.
Not that any of this was really at the forefront of Apollo's mind, given that he was still trying to get over the fact that he'd just grabbed Klavier's hand like it was nothing. And then, even worse, he'd kept holding it.
Never mind what this was doing for his heart rate – no matter what Trucy or his brain said he did not have a crush on Klavier, but that didn't stop him from being a very attractive man – what about personal space! Boundaries! Consent!
Sure, Klavier was someone who pushed the boundaries of the concept of the personal bubble anyway, but none of that was physical contact!
And, Apollo realised, if anyone ever expressed discomfort to him, he always backed off and never overstepped again.
…damn it, why did he have to be so likeable?
What happened to all the angry, violent prosecutors he'd heard stories about from Mr Wright? Why didn't he get one?
Not that Apollo wanted to be assaulted in court, obviously, but that would be so much easier to deal with than whatever this was.
He was so caught up in sputtering out some kind of incoherent apology and wrangling his brain back into gear that he ended up avoiding eye contact and noticed something that, in retrospect, they probably should have noticed earlier.
"Oh!" Cutting himself off from whatever embarrassing thing he'd been trying to say, he looked out into the park. "The rain's stopping."
He felt, more than saw, Klavier lean out from under the umbrella to check for himself, a whisper of fabric brushing against his sleeve.
"You're right!"
The thick sheets of rain from earlier had finally begun to peter out, leaving a pale, damp mist in the air that clung to the trees and street lights, sending the whole park into an almost magical hush. The odd droplet was still falling, but the worst of it seemed to have passed.
“All that waiting almost paid off, Herr Forehead,” Klavier teased, eyes twinkling above his mask.
“Yeah, almost.”
Deeming it safe, Klavier lowered the umbrella, shook off some of the excess water, then hooked the strap loosely around his wrist to let it dangle at his side.
“I assume you want your precious legal papers back now, ja?”
Later, Apollo would have difficulty articulating why exactly he reacted to this the way he did.
Not necessarily because he didn’t understand but because he would inevitably end up recounting this to Trucy, and honestly the intense look in her eyes when she was really focusing on someone was enough to make Apollo be much, much more careful about his word choices. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea.
Because when faced with a perfectly tidy conclusion to the whole reason he’d ended up unexpectedly spending extra time with Klavier in the first place, and his only response was to vaguely panic and blurt out “no,” it certainly seemed strange.
(it was simple, really, at the heart of it all.
i'm not ready to say goodbye yet.
somehow, it was always the simplest things that were hardest for him to say.)
Klavier apparently thought the same thing in the moment, judging by the curious raised eyebrow.
“I mean, uh-“ Come on Justice, aren’t you an honorary Wright lawyer? You can bluff your way out of this! “-it’s only round the corner, might as well see it through, right?”
“Well, I always make sure to walk a lady to her door.” Tossing his fringe, Klavier winked. “The gentlemen too.”
Apollo was only slightly despairing at the fact that they were now in full view of one another and he couldn’t just bury himself in his hoodie and never come out; he couldn’t hide away like this.
Instead he groaned and turned away to carry on down the path, hoping that one, he hadn’t sounded quite as strangled as he thought, and two, his cheeks weren’t burning as brightly as it felt like they were.
Klavier laughed and once again fell into step beside him.
Though they didn’t strictly need to be so close together anymore, now that they were no longer sharing an umbrella, Apollo still noticed himself gravitating towards him and, when he pulled away a little but their hands still brushed, he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one having those thoughts.
It was, it was-
Apollo didn’t want to admit it was good, that it was making something warm and unfamiliar bloom into life behind his rib cage, because he wasn’t sure he could take it. The distance between himself and others was carefully cultivated, through years of practice; what would it mean to let one more person through?
Not Clay, his brother in all but name and owner of partial rights to his soul since the first moment he’d grinned at him, all gap-toothed and earnest, and said that first I’m fine.
Not Trucy, who was steadily worming her way in with valiant determination and dragging her adoptive father behind her whether any of them were fully ready for that or not.
Not Ema, endless ammo of Snackoos on hand and blunt honesty ready to cut through his bullshit in a way no one else ever really had.
Not as a friend, but as-
Apollo shook his head.
Maybe some other day he could come back to this, when the mere thought of it didn’t make his fingers tremble where they were clutching his bag.
(and when he wouldn't have to admit he owed trucy ten dollars.)
Glancing at Klavier to make sure he hadn’t twigged anything weird had been going on, he frowned.
The mask was making it difficult to tell, but there was a far-off look in his eyes, and a vaguely despondent feel to the gentle back and forth swing of the umbrella.
Maybe he was just reading too much into it, but…
When they made it to the exit of the park, the Wright Anything Agency barely five minutes away, Apollo made a split second decision and curved to keep following the path.
He heard Klavier come to a stop behind him, and for a few terrifying seconds was so sure that he’d made a terrible mistake and had just embarrassed himself yet again with nothing to show for it that he almost turned right back around again.
Then-
“Um, Herr Forehead?” A few steps later and Klavier was once again beside him – a half-step ahead so he could lean into his field of view – with a genuinely baffled look on his face. “Is there a shortcut this way I do not know about?”
“Not really.”
“Then why are we…” Klavier trailed off.
“It’s like you said.” Apollo allowed himself to meet his eyes, to smile as he did a poor imitation of his voice. “It’s refreshing, walking in the rain.”
Klavier’s eyes creased up the tiniest bit at the corners, and not for the first time Apollo wished he wasn’t wearing that mask, so he could see the smile underneath.
“Ja, I did say that, didn’t I?” He murmured. Then, more forcefully, "and I do not sound like that."
"Witness testimony would disagree."
"Herr Judge, Herr Judge! The defence is calling biased witnesses!"
Apollo couldn't hold back his laugh, but was gratified when Klavier fell into step beside him once more, clearly smiling under his mask.
This, this joking and gentle ribbing of each other in the way that only trusted rivals could, was familiar.
Trusted.
The word briefly stopped him short, before he realised it was true.
Somewhere along the line, he'd come to actually trust Klavier. Maybe not fully, not with everything that made up Apollo Justice, but then again, there were perhaps two people in the world who were privy to that, both of whom had known him for more than half his life and one of whom wasn't even in the country.
Still.
I trust you.
Strangely, the thought wasn't as frightening as it would have been six months ago.
(clay was going to be so proud of him.)
"You wouldn't be the first to accuse me of that today," he said, memories of the trial resurfacing and pulling his face into a grimace.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught Klavier looking down at him. "Ja?"
Hearing the genuine curiosity in his voice, sensing the intensity of his full attention being focused on him, Apollo hesitated for a fraction of a second.
He'd be telling this story to Trucy when he got back to the Agency anyway, and wasn't it long enough that telling it twice would be exhausting?
The hesitation was only fractional, though, as he thought back to the realisation he'd only just had, and took the plunge.
(i want to tell you this, not just because i want to tell it to someone who i know will understand more than trucy ever could, as much as she tries, but because i think you want to hear it. need to hear it.)
"So it all started a couple of days ago-"
As he talked, spinning the tale of the client accused of robbery, the missing bird boxes – "they all had pretty valuable cameras inside," he explained, at Klavier's burst of incredulous laughter – and, most importantly of all, the utter disaster that had been the cross-examinations, his mind wandered a little.
To the Klavier who'd met him earlier in the courthouse, outwardly cheerful but shoulders tense and expression shadowed with something he wasn't yet ready to reveal, if he ever would.
To the terse phone call, the voice screaming on the other end about something Apollo had been intimately present and responsible for, but would never know the full fallout of.
To the Klavier beside him now, unexpectedly hanging on to every word and offering snide commentary on the prosecution – "ach, all those years of experience and he still acts like Kinder!" – who was gradually leaning into the animation and expression that made him him.
Maybe, he thought, he really does need this just as much as I do.
"-and that's when I realised, oh shit, it really is about the bird boxes, not the cameras, and I just-" He sighed heavily, exasperated, but cracked a smile as Klavier laughed raucously, head thrown back and bun flopping precariously with the movement.
"You really do get the strangest cases," he eventually said, once he'd composed himself. "So? Did you find out who did it?"
"The gardener."
"Nein."
"Yup." He shook his head, remembering the shrieks of Objection! from the opposite bench. "He took the first box for his granddaughter, realised it had a camera in it, panicked, and sold it to try and get rid of the evidence. Then he needed a replacement-"
"Und so the crime spree began," Klavier finished thoughtfully. "What a mess."
"You're telling me!"
Finally finished with his retelling, Apollo started to take in his surroundings again.
They were almost back at the park entrance again, having done a meandering loop around the small lake, past the bandstand and up through the lesser travelled gardens at the very back of the park.
At some point the sun had dipped low enough on the horizon that it could peek through the narrow gap in the clouds and cast a golden glow on everything it touched, the trees shimmering in the aftermath of the rain. The mist still hanging in the air was practically glittering in the light, making the normally drab park seem almost beautiful.
Yet, somehow, all of this was nothing compared to Klavier.
The sunlight seemed to get tangled up in his hair, any lingering water gleaming like molten gold and bringing out the rich warmth of his tanned skin.
Even here, sort of dressed down and face half-hidden, the performer in him was still shining through.
Not because he was always putting on a show, but because he was someone who thrived under bright stage lights, who seemed to only be truly relaxed when he was belting into a microphone in front of a few thousand adoring fans.
For him to be like this now...
Apollo looked away, before Klavier could notice his stare and, by extension, the light flush he could feel on his cheeks.
(and before the image of him burned onto his retinas in a way he could no longer avoid.
before he started thinking of himself as more valuable than he could possibly be, before he could start to believe what clay had been trying to tell him all these years.)
When they reached the park entrance this time, neither of them turned off the path.
A kind of quiet had fallen between them in the wake of Apollo's story, but it was a comfortable one, content to simply soak in the beauty of the evening and sensation of walking with a friend.
(after this, and all that had come before, apollo didn't think it would be difficult to call klavier a friend anymore.)
A few turns later – with a brief detour to point out Eldoon's, its usual thriving customer base fully returned – they were coming up on the Wright Anything Agency.
Apollo slowed to a stop at the entranceway, awkwardly shoving his hands back in his pockets. The sun had almost fully set, and though the air was still warm, there was a hint of a chill to the air that promised a return of the earlier rain.
"So. This is me." He cringed. "Not, uh, not that you don't know that."
Klavier, who had stopped a respectful distance away, seemed to take pity on him. "This is my first time in person. Nicer than I expected."
"Rude."
Lucky you've not seen inside, he thought, otherwise I'd really have no counterargument.
There was a beat as he stared expectantly at Klavier, waiting, then he seemed to remember why exactly they'd been together in the first place and jolted into action.
Flipping open his bag, he smoothly pulled out the file Apollo had passed him at the courthouse, rotated it to show off both sides as if to say look, ja, dry as a bone and then held it out.
Apollo crossed the short distance between them in a few steps and retrieved his file.
"Thanks." He rubbed his nose with the back of a knuckle. Let his eyes focus on the way the chains hanging at Klavier's belt clinked together as he subtly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Ach-" Some more German that he didn't recognise followed, and then a be-ringed finger was hooking under his chin and gently guiding him to look back up.
Apollo was too shocked – by the act itself, by the warmth of his hand against his skin – to stop him.
With his other hand, Klavier pulled his mask down under his chin and beamed that famous solar smile of his, this time tinged with a rare softness.
"You say it with such shame!" Then, gentler, perhaps seeing something shift in Apollo's expression at the words, "any time."
No nickname, no flare, even the accent seemed to lessen.
It was so unexpected, so very unlike the Klavier he had come to know and yet so impossible to be anyone but him, that Apollo felt his cheeks burn, starting around his nose and spreading in a wave all the way up to the tips of his ears.
Klavier's grin broadened.
His finger pressed into Apollo's chin just a little bit harder, the increase in pressure so slight it was probably subconsciously, then thankfully pulled away again, stretching back up to his full height.
When he pulled the mask back over his mouth and nose, Apollo was almost disappointed to see it go.
Then, catching himself, he scowled.
"Gavin."
Klavier raised his hands in surrender. "Entschuldige, I could not help myself! But you'll forgive me, ja?" He winked.
Apollo sighed, but made no effort to deny it.
At least his face felt like it was cooling down.
"I should go. Drop these off." He lifted the file.
"Of course! Don't let me keep you."
Klavier was already backing up, one hand with the thumb hooked in his belt loop and the other raised in farewell.
It was only as he'd completely turned around, beginning to make his way out into the summer evening, that Apollo stopped dithering.
"Gavin!"
He watched as Klavier paused and turned on his heel, tilting his head questioningly, making his fringe swing out from where he'd safely tucked it behind his ear.
"Goodnight," Apollo called and, on a whim, added, "good luck."
Whether Klavier knew what he was referring to or not he'd never know, but from the way his mask raised as his cheeks bunched into a smile underneath, he certainly appreciated the sentiment.
"Gute nacht, Herr Forehead!" There was a hint of melody in the words, something shared under an umbrella in the summer rain.
Then, with one last wave over his shoulder, he was gone, disappearing around the corner to, presumably, head home.
Apollo gradually became aware that he was clutching the file a little too tightly, and shoved it into his bag before he could do something silly, like hug it.
Though the rain probably wouldn't start for a while yet, so he had no real reason to go into the office anymore to grab an umbrella, since he was here he might as well drop off his files.
With one last glance in the direction Klavier had gone, he headed inside just as the first spots of rain began to dampen the pavement.
Exchanging a brief but cordial greeting with the doorman – and confirmation that, yes, Mr Wright was indeed out of the office – he stepped into the lift and settled back against the left-hand wall.
It was only a few floors up, but all that walking after several hours of sitting still had really done a number on his legs.
He yawned and blinked sleepily only to startle as he caught his reflection on the opposite side.
No wonder the doorman had been giving him a strange look!
There was a flush high on his cheeks, like he'd been running, and a smile he hadn't even realised he'd been wearing sitting and small and secret on his lips.
Had speaking to Klavier done this? Did he really have that much of an effect on him?
Apollo didn't know what to make of that.
Oh no, he was about to go into the Agency! Where he would inevitably bump into Trucy!
She'd know the second she laid eyes on him that something was up, this had been a terrible idea.
(know what? a tiny little voice asked in the back of his mind.
got something to hide, justice?)
Unfortunately, the doors were already opening on the correct floor, and if he went back down now the doorman would think he was weird. At least with Trucy he had a vague idea of what was going on in her head; the doorman was such a stranger he hadn't even managed to learn his name yet.
(...he should really work on that.)
Well, might as well get it over with.
Shoulders firmly squared, he marched up to the door to the Wright Anything Agency and, after hesitating for only a second, let himself in.
"You're back!"
Apollo turned from closing the door behind him just in time to see Trucy, hat at a steep angle as it started slipping off her head with the momentum of her movements, appear from around the corner, her stockinged feet skidding along the flooring.
There was a giddy smile on her face that faded slightly on seeing who had come through the door.
"Aww, I thought you were Daddy," she said, pouting. Readjusted her hat so it was more firmly on her head.
Apollo shrugged, trying to decide whether to be pissed off that Mr Wright had clearly been out all day again, or sad at how quickly Trucy's face had fallen.
Honestly, he could do both.
"You should lock that door, you know."
"Bleh." She stuck her tongue out at him. "We're an agency, and it's still working hours!"
For who? Owls?
"Why are you here anyway?"
He opened his bag and pulled out the file, waving it a little. "Just dropping some stuff off from today."
Her eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, it was your big trial! How did it go? Anything cool happen?"
"Big trial is a bit of an exaggeration," he noted dryly. "But no, not really. Solved the mystery of the vanishing bird boxes though."
"Yay!" She twirled around, striking a pose as she stopped and unfurled Mr Hat from under her cloak.
"I am Mr Hat, and I am proud of you Apollo!" 'He' said.
He moved past her, sparing a moment to tap Mr Hat on the shoulder and say, only semi-sarcastically, "thanks. Means a lot."
As he filed the documents away – putting them somewhere he would definitely be able to find them when he needed to do his write-up – he heard the unmistakeable sound of Mr Hat being folded away.
Then-
"Polly, did something else happen?"
Oh no.
Here it comes.
"What do you mean?"
He made the mistake of looking at her, and found her hands on hips, eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down.
"Court finished hours ago, but you've only just got back now. Where did you go?"
"I forgot my umbrella, so I had to wait for the rain to stop." This was true. Didn't stop the cold sweat from trickling down the back of his neck.
"So, you're happier than normal because of the case?" Her eyes narrowed even further.
Apollo gulped. "Yep." If he could just get around her, he'd have a straight shot to the door-
"Polly." She folded her arms. "You're a terrible liar."
He could tell her that he'd walked back with Klavier, or...
In a move that he couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed for, he bolted for the door.
Not expecting it, Trucy yelped with surprise and instinctively stepped out of the way.
"Sorry, Trucy!" He called behind him. "Nothing personal!"
In a moment of shocking dexterity, he managed to snag one of the umbrellas propped up behind the door – while he'd been putting the files away he'd noticed the rain getting heavy enough that he'd rather have one than not.
"Hey!" Trucy yelled indignantly as he dashed through the door. "I'll get it out of you yet!"
Believe me, I don't doubt that for one second.
He didn't slow down until he'd made it all the way to the entrance, tossing a hurried farewell at the poor doorman, and back out under the canopy.
If Trucy was going to follow him, she would have caught up to him by now; she was speedy when she wanted to be.
Taking a few deep breaths – man, he should have listened to Clay and started working out – he leaned back against one of the pillars and examined the umbrella he'd grabbed.
He hadn't really had time to choose, so it had just been a case of whatever was closest, which turned out to be-
On seeing the logo festooned in gaudy silver at the edges of the umbrella, he couldn't hold back a laugh.
Of course.
Shaking his head, he still carefully put it up and tucked his bag closer to his hip so it didn't swing out and get wet even in the relatively light rainfall.
Very quietly, knowing no one could hear him, he began to hum. It started off slow, in fits and starts, but built in confidence as he remembered not necessarily the precise notes but the feeling behind them.
That same feeling which was fizzing around in his chest and bursting to get out.
(that same feeling which had sparked the second klavier had looked him in the eye and told him he was a dear friend.)
(earlier even than that, if he was honest with himself.)
Then, he stepped out from under the canopy, Gavinner's logo on his borrowed umbrella gleaming silver as the raindrops beaded on its surface, and set off home, the gentle melody muffled against the summer rain.