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Twenty two years. That's how long Apollo's soulmate timer is set for. Twenty two years, a few months, and a handful of days.
He tries not to think about it. He has other things to do, a law degree to obtain. Hell, Clay doesn't even have a soulmate timer. He always said his soulmate was the vast expanse of outer space.
So Apollo covers his timer with his bracelet and doesn't think about it for twenty two years, a few months, and a handful of days, up until he's standing in front of Klavier Gavin at the scene of a crime.
This is the first time I've felt this way with a man.
Apollo grabs his wrist as he gapes at Klavier Gavin.
"You," he says. "You—"
"Me,” Klavier says with a grin.
"Wow, Apollo!" Trucy says. "I never would have expected you to get star struck."
"I'm not star struck!" Apollo says, because he doesn't get star struck. He doesn't even know who this guy is. All he can do is gesture like an idiot at his wrist.
"Is this a game of charades?" Klavier Gavin says, humour in his voice, "Something about your bracelet?"
Frustrated, Apollo slides his bracelet off—a near impossible task due to the nature of it. Then he flashes his zeroes at Klavier Gavin, who has an unreadable expression on his face as he studies Apollo.
"That's good," he says finally. “I was worried it was the very young Fraulein." Then he shoves aside a heavy bracelet on his wrist and shows Apollo his own line of zeroes.
Apollo says, "Well, shit."
"Daddy!" Trucy cries, as soon as they head back to the hospital to check in with Mr. Wright. "Daddy, guess what?"
Mr. Wright raises an eyebrow at her level of excitement. "You found the person who hit me?"
"Better! Polly found his soulmate!"
Mr. Wright's eyebrows raise into his hat. "That is big news."
"And you'll never guess who it is!"
"Oh? You know them?"
"It's Klavier Gavin! The lead singer of the Gavinners!"
Trucy is far too excited about this considering she had only just discovered who Klavier Gavin and his band were half an hour ago.
Mr. Wright's eyebrows get even higher. "Klavier? You mean Kristoph's brother?"
None of this is really sinking in. That he found his soulmate; that his soulmate is both a rock star and a prosecutor ; and that his soulmate is the younger brother of his former boss who is currently rotting in a prison that Apollo put him in.
"I didn't even know Mr. Gavin had a brother," he says. His bracelet is back on, and he rubs at it, a nervous habit.
"I suspect you will run into him sooner than you might expect," Mr. Wright says, cryptic as always. "Did you get his number?"
"He gave me his," Apollo says. It's on a piece of paper that is burning a hole in his pocket right now. "I should sell it on the internet," he mutters bitterly.
"Apollo!" Trucy cries out, as Mr. Wright laughs. "You can't do that!" She puts her hands on her hips and glares, and he lifts his hands in defeat.
"Okay, okay, I won't! Don't worry." Like he actually would have! What kind of soulmate would he be?
Oh, god. He'd just met his soulmate.
"Apollo," Mr. Wright says. "This is a big deal. Are you okay? Can you still handle everything tomorrow?"
Apollo nods hurriedly. “It won't be a problem, Mr. Wright!" He says enthusiastically. "This won't interfere with the case at all!"
Mr. Wright nods, and Apollo vows to shove his soulmate out of his mind until the trial is over. After that, he thinks to himself, he will deal with Klavier Gavin.
Well, that doesn’t exactly work out, does it.
Apollo returns to the Wright Anything Agency ranting and raving about Klavier Gavin. Both Trucy and Mr. Wright don’t seem to have any compassion for him; on the contrary, Trucy seems absolutely thrilled, and Mr. Wright just gives him a smile and says, “The numbers don’t lie.”
Apollo casts a critical glance at Mr. Wright’s wrist, but it remains covered.
“How could someone so—so infuriating be my soulmate?”
“Trust me, Apollo,” Mr. Weight says dryly. “You are not the first person to think that way.”
“And he—when he—and he—” Apollo can't even get his words out. Trucy watches him with her chin in her palm.
“I think you like him,” she says.
“I do not,” Apollo vehemently denies, even as a mental image of Prosecutor Gavin air guitaring fills his mind. He can't deny that Klavier has a sort of… coolness about him.
“Most people would be thrilled that their soulmate is a famous rock star,” Mr. Wright says. Apollo crosses his arms. He'd listened to a Gavinners song last night, just to see what it was all about, and had promptly labelled it ‘noise,’ and not music.
“But Daddy,” Trucy says. “He's also a prosecutor.”
Mr. Wright smiles. “Prosecutors aren't all bad,” he says. He rubs at his own wrist; Apollo doesn't ask.
“But anyway,” Mr. Wright says, business again. “Don't let this distract you from your client. You did well today. Are you ready for tomorrow?”
They get back to discussing the case, but Klavier Gavin remains in the back of Apollo's mind for the rest of the night.
The trial ends, and they win. Klavier Gavin is a gracious loser, and Apollo would be lying if he said it didn’t better his opinion of him. He doesn’t pull any dirty tricks to get Wocky behind bars, and so Apollo walks out of that courtroom with one soulmate and a very happy mob.
The next day, Klavier Gavin shows up at the Wright Anything Agency.
Apollo is sitting at a very cluttered desk writing up a report on the trial when Trucy’s ecstatic voice comes barreling through the room.
“Polly!” She shouts in singsong. “Someone’s here to see you!”
He has an idea. He still hasn’t texted Klavier; he’s been busy, and maybe he’s ignoring the whole thing. He still can’t believe he hasn’t woken up from a dream. So he’s unsurprised when he sees him in the doorway, talking to Trucy with that obnoxious grin of his.
He looks up when Apollo enters the room, and something complicated and unsure passes over his face.
“Herr Forehead,” he says, which is not getting him off to a good start. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
He probably owes him that, at least. After all, the universe has decided to shove them together. Apollo nods and grabs his coat.
“Let’s go get noodles,” he says. Trucy pouts.
“No fair! Bring me some back, would you?”
Apollo gives her his word, and then he follows Klavier Gavin out of the office.
“I’ve been waiting for your text,” Klavier says, his voice forcibly neutral. Apollo grunts.
“Been kind of busy,” he says defensively.
“Yes, congratulations on your successful defence, Herr Forehead. We sure put on quite a show.”
They grab lunch and sit down; Klavier seems nervous, which isn’t like him. Apollo would be able to pick up on it even without his special skill.
Klavier is halfway through his noodles before he finally breaks.
“I think we should address the elephant in the room.” Apollo thinks he means the zeroes on each of their wrists until he says, “I don’t blame you, you know. For what happened with Kristoph.”
Oh. That elephant.
“Kristoph did what he did and he was found out. That he was found out by you is irrelevant. It was simply—” He gives a half smile and cocks his head slightly. “It was justice.”
Apollo clears his throat. “Right,” he says. God, this was awkward. “Okay.”
He must still be sounding defensive, because Klavier smiles softly at him. “Truce, Herr Forehead. Surely you can stomach my company for a few minutes?”
Apollo realizes he’s being a little frosty. “Sorry,” he says genuinely. “I just… don’t really know how to do this.” This was his soulmate. The universe had decided that this is the person in the world who would make Apollo happiest. Apollo doesn’t know how to deal with that. He’d imagined his soulmate occasionally—who hadn’t?—but never in a million years would he have chosen someone like Klavier Gavin.
“We don’t have to do anything, ja?” Klavier says. “I’m not interested in pressuring you. We can just… get to know each other. Face off in court a few more times, maybe,” he adds with a wink. “I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me, but we’ll go at whatever pace you want. Soulmates or not, we still don’t really know each other.”
This is annoyingly practical. Apollo has no choice but to nod in agreement. This is his soulmate, after all. The universe didn’t get these things wrong, did it?
“Okay,” Apollo says. “We can get to know each other.”
Klavier’s grin is blindingly bright, but he seems genuinely happy with Apollo’s answer. “Wunderbar,” he says. “I can’t wait, Herr Forehead.”
Klavier is busy. Apollo is—less busy, but there’s still things to do around the Agency. They text, or rather, Klavier texts him—updates about his day, teasing quips, things Apollo thinks might be song lyrics. Apollo doesn’t text him back often, but that doesn’t seem to deter Klavier, who is more than capable of carrying on a conversation with himself.
It’s over text that he and Trucy are invited to the Gavinners show.
His first instinct is to say no. Going to a Gavinners show does not remotely seem like his idea of a good time, not least because he dislikes the music. But he hesitates over the word no. He hadn’t seen Klavier in a while—they’d gone to get coffee together shortly after the last case, and Apollo had had a surprisingly good time. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see Klavier again.
Plus, he thinks, already typing out his answer, Trucy would never forgive him if she found out he had turned this down.
The concert is—loud, and obnoxious, and there’s too many people, and it’s loud, and god he really can’t handle this noise. But Trucy is having a fun time, and Apollo would be lying if he said he didn’t find it kind of… cool. Kind of attractive. To see Klavier up there with his guitar, singing his horrible lyrics to the crowd. Apollo can’t help but feel a little smug as he stands there surrounded by screaming, adoring fans. That was his soulmate up there.
And then, of course, all hell breaks loose.
He knows it’s hard for Klavier to wrap his mind around, that Daryan did what he did. And even though Apollo knows he didn’t do anything wrong in defending Machi and pointing his finger at the real murderer, he’s very aware that that is now two people in Klavier’s life that he’s sent to jail. He’s really killing this whole soulmate thing.
Maybe that was the wrong choice of words.
He’s expecting Klavier to be cold to him, distant—what he’s not expecting is for him to corner him after the trial, something pained in his eyes, and ask if they can go somewhere.
Apollo can feel his pain, his confusion, his anger. And Apollo feels his heart ache for him, for this ridiculous caricature of a man who the universe crafted for him. So Apollo says, “Do you want to come over?” Because he can’t imagine taking Klavier to somewhere public right now, where he will probably be accosted by fans and forced to put on that fake, glitzy smile that Apollo hates.
Klavier looks relieved, and he nods. He offers Apollo a ride on his motorcycle, but Apollo 1) rode his bicycle to the courthouse and 2) does not have a death wish, thank you very much. So they agree to meet at Apollo’s apartment and go their separate ways.
Klavier beats him there, of course. Apollo wipes the sweat off his brow and chains up his bike, gesturing to Klavier with his head to follow him upstairs.
They don’t speak on the way up. Apollo lets him in and tries to ignore the way his entire apartment seems brighter with Klavier Gavin in it.
“Do you want anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”
“Ah, no, I’m alright. Thank you.”
They head into Apollo’s living room; Klavier sits down on the couch and Apollo, after making a split second decision between the couch and the armchair, sits on the couch beside him, body turned so he can talk to him.
“You did well today in court, Herr Forehead,” he says. “Once again, we put on quite a show.”
“Are you okay?” He cuts straight to the point. Klavier lets out a shaky breath.
“Ja,” he says. “I won’t lie and say I’m not shaken up. That Daryan would—” he cuts off. “Ach, it’s no use getting strung out over. He got what was coming to him, didn’t he? We both made sure of that.”
“You can still be upset,” Apollo says. “He was your friend.”
“Ach,” Klavier says, waving this away as if he no longer wished to talk of it. Then he looks seriously at Apollo. “Thank you, Herr Forehead. For keeping me company.”
He didn’t want to be alone after that; Apollo understood that. That Klavier wanted his company was a little harder to believe. Apollo didn’t consider himself particularly comforting. But maybe it was simply that Klavier wanted the attention of his soulmate after a harrowing truth.
“Anytime,” Apollo says, surprised at how much he means it.
Anytime comes sooner rather than later.
When the trial ends, Apollo and Klavier’s eyes meet. There’s a question in Klavier’s; Apollo gives him a nod.
They don’t exchange any other words, but Apollo is unsurprised to see Klavier’s motorcycle outside his building when he gets home. They head up to Apollo’s apartment in silence.
This time Klavier heads right to Apollo’s couch. He sits down and leans his head back, closing his eyes. Apollo studies him briefly before he makes a decision and heads to his fridge.
He stops in front of Klavier and holds out a beer. Klavier opens his eyes and gives a weak smile.
“Danke, Forehead,” he says, taking it from Apollo. Their fingers brush. Apollo sits down on the couch beside him and takes a sip of his own beer.
Apollo is trying to figure out how to break this awkward, stifling silence when Klavier does it for him.
“Apollo,” he says, and Apollo thinks this might be the first time he’s said his actual name; he’s embarrassed to admit it sends a bolt of electricity up his spine. “Can we watch something , bitte?”
Yes. Yes, they certainly can. It gives him something to do, something to keep him occupied, other than sitting there and trying to decide if he's supposed to apologize.
He puts on some rerun of the Steel Samurai, and they watch it in silence. When Klavier finally speaks, it isn't about the trial.
"Are you disappointed, Herr Forehead?" He asks. "That I am your soulmate."
"I was," Apollo admits. "But not anymore."
"He doesn't have a timer, you know. Kristoph. I used to tease him about it, before I realized how cruel that was. I always wondered why. I never thought—" he gives a dry laugh. "I suppose not even the universe was cruel enough to sicc him on somebody."
Apollo doesn't know what to say to that. He didn't know that about Kristoph; he'd always kept his sleeves down, and Apollo, so used to politely ignoring everyone's timer, had never really looked any closer.
"I imagined my soulmate many times, Herr Forehead, but I never quite imagined someone like you."
Apollo snorts. "Well I never exactly pictured myself dating a rockstar."
"Oh?" Klavier looks at him. "I didn't realize we were dating."
Apollo blushes, realizing what he'd said. "W-well, isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're soulmates?"
"I wish you would have told me sooner, Herr Forehead. I would have tried to hold your hand, at least."
Apollo's blush deepens. "You can, if you want," he says. Klavier stares at him, but Apollo doesn't back down.
He doesn’t want to.
Klavier shifts ever so slightly closer and reaches out; Apollo meets him halfway, and their fingers twine together. Klavier turns their wrists over so Apollo can see the zeroes on his skin, proof that this man is his. He reaches out and grazes his fingers over them, and he hears Klavier’s intake of breath.
“Herr Forehead,” he says quietly. “Can I do something more than hold your hand?”
Apollo says, “Only if you don’t call me that.”
Klavier grins and says, “ Apollo.” Apollo feels that zing of lightning up his spine again. “Kann ich dich küssen?”
“If that means what I think it does, then yes.”
Klavier moves to close the distance between them, and Apollo lets his eyes fall shut as their lips meet.
He almost pulls away immediately.
It’s like a shock. It’s like every stupid soulmate cliche he’s ever read. He’d thought they were exaggerating when they talked about that first kiss between soulmates, but it really feels like every firework going off at once. Like every case he’s won rolled into one. He makes a surprised sound and his eyes fly open; Klavier is looking back at him.
They pull away. Apollo feels inexplicably out of breath.
Klavier lets out a shaky breath. “I guess that proves it, hm?”
“Were you having doubts?”
“Nein,” Klavier says. “But that was…”
There are no words for what that was. Apollo leans forward and kisses him again.
The spark is lessened, but it’s still there. Klavier’s hands travel up to cup Apollo’s cheeks, tilting his head so they fit together better. Apollo grapples at the front of Klavier’s shirt, hands skimming the ‘G’ of his necklace as he grips the lapels of Klavier’s jacket.
Klavier is the one to pull away this time; there’s red on his cheeks, and he lets out a hesitant laugh.
“Gott,” he says. “You’ve got me feeling very uncool, Herr Forehead.”
Back to the nicknames; that’s okay. “I think I like you better when you’re uncool,” he says. Klavier reaches up to pull lightly on Apollo’s bangs.
“Well,” he says. “Maybe it isn’t so bad to be uncool with you, ja?”
They go back to watching television, but this time Klavier drags him close and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Now that Apollo has given him permission, he lets himself touch. Apollo likes it maybe a little too much. He settles in against him and is far more preoccupied with the feeling of his gentle breathing and the smell of aftershave than he is with whatever is playing on television. It’s distracting.
When it’s getting late Klavier excuses himself. Apollo walks him to the door and lets himself be kissed.
“I would very much like to see you sooner rather than later,” Klavier says as he opens the door. “Before we face off in court again, ideally.”
Apollo would like that too, so he nods. Klavier gives him his flashiest grin, and then he gives him a smaller, more sincere one.
“I’ll text you,” Apollo says.
“I’m holding you to that, Apollo.”
With a snap of his fingers, he turns around and leaves. Apollo shuts the door and leans against it; he’s annoyed to find he’s smiling. He rubs at his wrist.
Maybe the universe knew what it was doing after all.