Chapter Text
It was a week after Apollo arrived back home that he found himself standing at the window, peering out at the street below to see if there was a motorcycle parked outside yet. No dice, just like there hadn’t been five minutes ago, or fifteen, or twenty-seven. He could feel Mikeko’s eyes boring into the back of his skull from he sat on the couch, imagining what he would say, if he could talk.
’Of course he’s not here yet, you idiot.’ Mikeko would surely reprimand him. ’He’s not supposed to be here for another hour.’
Still, worrying about whether or not Klavier was going to stand him up was marginally better than the other thing taking up his focus, which took over his thoughts again as he moved back over to the counter, where his laptop sat, open to the email from from the interim - sure enough, the previous head of legal had been fired for not catching Klavier’s little stunt - head of legal at Global Studios. He didn’t know why he kept reading it, as if he could somehow make it change or go away if he just read it one more time, but sure enough, it still said the same thing.
He hadn’t even filed yet. The past week had been a whirlwind, unpacking, sorting through all the hate mail and death threats trying to decide if any were credible, trying to stay on top of the group chat that Kay had made for all the contestants, helping Trucy prepare for her big show at the Penrose, and all of that on top of being the temporary head of the agency while Mr. Wright had gone to Khura’in for Maya’s graduation ceremony. He had invited Apollo to come with him, back to his homeland, but he knew he couldn’t go. Not yet, anyway.
All in all, he had been too busy to file, but his intent to do so hadn’t gone unnoticed by Global - hence the email. They were offering a truly mind boggling amount of money - the kind that could change his life forever. With that kind of money, he could open up his own firm, get an apartment in a nice part of town, hire a really good private investigator to see if he could track down any information about Jove Justice, like who his partner was or if he had any surviving relatives, get pretty much anything he had ever wanted and still have plenty to spare, but in return they wanted him to sign another NDA. He would never be allowed to talk about anything involving the show that wasn’t aired. It was so ironclad, not only would Ms. Vasquez’s business based homophobia be off the table but anything the cameras didn’t catch. Hell, even if he were to mention that he had read the Sherlock Holmes canon and someone asked when, telling them the truth would be a violation of it. Yes, the money could give him everything he had ever wanted… except for his voice and the right to tell his story.
He had forwarded the email to Mr. Wright, but didn’t expect a response since he barely knew how to use his phone and probably couldn’t get his email on it while traveling, and was still mulling it over, both the offer itself and who else he could ask for their advice (he was even considering screenshotting it and sending it to the contestant chat) when finally, an hour had passed with him drifting between the window and the Windows and he saw two headlights turn off as a motorcyclist parked outside the building. He waited a few more seconds for the driver to take off their helmet, but when they did and he saw his boyfriend’s platinum blonde hair come cascading down around his shoulders, he ran downstairs and greeted him with a kiss before accepting the second helmet and climbing on behind him. Just wrapping his arms around him as the vehicle roared to life seemed to cause all his anxieties about the email to fade away and he was beyond ready for their third first date.