Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

And Bruno said what Anders said some producer said to young Lennon

“They can’t all be ballads, Julian.”

–  Kimya Dawson, “Singing Machine”

— 

His mother was a musician. He would sit in her lap while she sang to him in that voice which reminded him of ringing bells. She favored the acoustic guitar, and when she would lean over it to teach him how to play, her hair would fall in her face—long and blonde and soft. She was the most beautiful woman Klavier had ever seen.

He doesn’t remember it well. He remembers the feeling of her body growing colder and colder, and he remembers Kristoph lifting him out of her arms and into his—strong and protective. He remembers the police asking him a lot of questions he didn’t understand and then a woman in glasses with a clipboard asking him even more. 

Heroin, they said it was. He wasn’t supposed to be listening of course, but when you tell a child not to do something, they’re going to do exactly that. 

From then on, it was just him and Kristoph.

The poor child, their neighbors would say. I heard he didn’t leave her side for hours. He didn’t even know she was—

Kristoph always grabbed his hand and pulled him away before they got to finish speaking. 

— 

His brother cared very much about appearances. His wardrobe was crisp and professional—bought secondhand for much lower prices, though he’d never let anyone know that. He always kept his long hair tied back and out of his face, not a hair out of place. The lenses of his glasses were always crystal clear without a speck of dust or dirt to be found. During downtime, he would idly file his nails into perfect crescent moons, and then he’d coat them with a layer of polish to make them shine. 

And he’d always smile. He smiled at the cashier at the grocery store while they unloaded their groceries—always the organic produce and “healthy” alternatives. He smiled at their neighbors when they layered fake sympathy thick onto their voices to cover up the sound of rumors that permeated the neighborhood. He smiled at Klavier’s teachers at school when they told him they were worried about how his younger brother was adjusting.

But at home, he wouldn’t smile. 

At home he had nothing but a stern look and precise words that made sure everything happened the way it was supposed to, all logic and no emotion. 

It made Klavier feel…almost special, that he got to see the real Kristoph. That was his big brother and no one else’s—no one else knew him better. He quickly got used to the imposing demeanor and austere words because he knew Kristoph didn’t really mean it. He was doing everything he could to take care of Klavier, and Klavier appreciated it, even if it came off as mean.

His big brother took care of him, and no one else did. All they had was each other.

— 

When he was ten years old, he thought his big brother was so impossibly grown up. 

At 24, he still feels like a child. He can’t imagine how Kristoph managed law school, working full time, and being a single parent at 18.

He remembers that sometimes, after long days, Kristoph would come home too tired to take care of himself. He’d cook dinner for Klavier, ask about his day, and make sure all of his homework was done, and then he’d collapse onto the couch and bury his face in his hands. And he would stay that way for a very long time. Klavier wondered, sometimes, if he wanted to cry.

When he did this, Klavier would come up behind the couch and take his brother’s hair into his hands. It was beautiful, just like their mother’s, the long golden locks spilling between his fingers. 

And on these nights, he would clumsily rake his small fingers through his brother’s hair to comb out the tangles, and he would braid it just like their mother taught him to. Kristoph would sleep with it in, making his hair all pretty and wavy in the morning. He always thought it was a waste when his brother would then tie it back like he always did, prim and proper and exact.

He always thought his brother was lucky. He wanted to be beautiful like their mother.

—

His brother had a lot of friends, but he didn’t seem to like any of them. Law students were in and out of their home relatively frequently. You have to stay connected, his brother always advised him. Connections are the most valuable thing you can have in this world.

The people who came in and out of Kristoph’s life always seemed to mean something in the legal world. An up-and-coming defense attorney that everyone was talking about, the son of a famous judge aiming to follow in his father’s footsteps, a prosecutor who worked for one of the most renowned offices in the west, the list went on. As soon as they left, his brother’s smile would drop, and he would turn to Klavier and explain everything he didn’t like about them, from their hobbies to their vocabulary to the way they walked.

It always confused Klavier. He didn’t understand why you would spend time with people you didn’t like. He had a lot of friends at school, but that’s because he liked having fun with them. 

Please, his brother would say. It’s not you. They just like that you have a pretty face and can play the guitar. If there’s anything you can be glad that woman gave you, it was those. Remember that. It will come in handy in the future.

That confused Klavier further. If anyone was pretty like their mother, it wasn’t himself.

—

There was an old tomcat in their neighborhood growing up. He was a very proud cat, with an imposing build and big puffed out cheeks. He would spend hours grooming his bright orange fur in the sunniest spots in the neighborhood where everyone could see him, making sure there wasn’t a single soul around who hadn’t been blessed with his presence.

But then, when humans approached him, he would hiss and run.

He was scared.

He didn’t trust anyone. He was hurting, but he didn’t want to ask for help. People in the neighborhood often talked about what a nuisance he was. But Klavier disagreed.

When he was old enough to have pocket money, he spent it all on cat food, leaving it out for the distrusting old tomcat to come fetch at night. For as large and imposing as he tended to be, he was also frighteningly thin.

Sometimes he’d catch the cat coming to feast at night as he would look out the window expectantly. And sometimes, the cat would look up and they would lock eyes, and then he would bolt in the opposite direction.

And Klavier felt like, whenever he looked into those eyes, he saw something familiar.

—

When he was about 13, his brother had one particular friend who started coming over a lot. She was extremely beautiful, with a curvy body, a button nose, striking blue eyes, and beautiful blonde hair just like his brother had—just like their mother.

But aside from the hair color, she was everything his brother was not. She was loud and bubbly and optimistic. Where his brother tended to be quiet and logical, she would laugh loudly at stories that weren’t that funny and cry whenever any strong emotion overcame her. He remembers that he really liked that about her. 

He distinctly remembers the first time he met her. She ran directly up to him and started squealing, cupping his face in her hands.

“Oh my God, is this your little brother? He’s adorable!”

Her hands were warm on his face. His heart was beating extremely fast, yet at the time, he couldn’t tell why. 

“Yes, he tends to invoke that reaction, and no, you may not take him home,” Kristoph said with an amused smile, although Klavier could tell he didn’t mean it. “Now sit down. You said you were having trouble with the reading, correct?”

—

Klavier had always been extremely attuned to other people’s emotions, but he didn’t even need to be in order to tell what her intentions were.  Whenever she was around, she would speak in that sing-song tone of voice he was used to the girls at school talking to him with. She took any chance she could to drape herself over Kristoph—wrapping her arms around his shoulders or waist, throwing her legs across his lap, running her hands down his arms to intertwine their fingers. And when she did that, she would lean in extra close to his face, whispering things Klavier couldn’t hear and tugging on his hair playfully.

One night, after she had finally left after staying for dinner much longer than Kristoph would have liked (although honestly, Klavier didn’t mind), Klavier asked:

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Kristoph let out a deep sigh, as if he had heard that question dozens of times before.

“No, Klavier, she is not.”

“She wants to be.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate for her.”

Klavier wasn’t quite sure what to say. Kristoph was using that tone of voice that he always did when he was explaining someone’s faults to Klavier—cold and logical, but with a clear tone of disdain behind it.

“...Why do you keep letting her come over then, if you don’t like her?”

“Her father is a member of the bar association, although I’m certain she’ll make a lousy lawyer.”

Klavier furrowed his brow. That dark feeling he got sometimes was brewing in him—the one he felt when he saw how his brother operated in this world. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to think of his brother that way. His brother was the strongest, smartest person that he knew.

“...That’s not very nice.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Klavier hated when his brother said that—when he treated him like some sort of child who didn’t know anything. He was much more mature than most people his age, thank you very much, and he was very capable of understanding adult subjects.

“Well, couldn’t you at least try to like her? If you’re going to keep her around you could at least—”

“No, I can’t.”

Kristoph cut him off sharply, clearly wanting to be done with this conversation. His face was turning a bit red as he clenched his fists so hard his knuckles were turning white. But Klavier didn’t notice at first. He wasn’t done.

“Why not? She’s nice and pretty and clearly loves you!”

“Because I can’t, Klavier. It doesn’t work that way.”

“You could at least try—”

And then his brother cut him off again with something he was certainly not expecting to hear.

“I’m homosexual, Klavier. I am not attracted to women.”

The kitchen fell silent.

In that moment, there was more emotion—more real emotion—on Kristoph’s face than Klavier had ever seen before. And he couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t quite scared, wasn’t quite angry, wasn’t quite…anything that Klavier knew. But it looked wrong. It looked hurt. This was clearly a secret that his brother hadn’t wanted to tell.

And he wasn’t sure what to say. 

He didn’t like seeing his brother this way.

“...Oh. Okay,” he finally managed.

His brother took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and then stood up.

“Do the dishes,” was the last thing he said before leaving the room.

—

She kept coming over anyway, even though Kristoph didn’t like her one bit. Klavier didn’t mind, though. Just the opposite. She spent time with him and laughed at his jokes and never treated him like he was a child. He could ask her for advice on problems that Kristoph thought were stupid and trivial, because she always listened and took him seriously. She would sneak him treats his brother would never allow him to have before winking and saying it would be their secret.

She liked to give him hugs. Kristoph hadn’t hugged him since the day their mother died.

One day, his brother had to step out for an errand while the two of them were studying, and as soon as the door was shut, she waved Klavier over.

“Hey, Klav,” she said with a mischievous look in her eyes, whispering even though there was no one around to hear. “Close your eyes and don’t tell anyone.”

Without questioning it, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but he trusted her.

And then he felt lips on his.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, and she winked at him.

His entire body felt hot. That was his first kiss. He was feeling a storm of emotions that all bled together into a big, confused mess. He was excited to finally be doing these adult things his classmates whispered about when the teacher left the room, pride at the fact that such a gorgeous mature woman was interested in him, and unsure as to whether or not he actually liked it. 

She was so beautiful—one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—and when he thought about her soft features and plump lips and thick eyelashes his heart skipped a beat. And he could hardly process that he had his first kiss with her. 

But he hadn’t asked her to do that. He hadn’t been prepared for it at all. He had always thought his first kiss would be a lot more romantic than that. Weren’t you supposed to save it for someone you love? Weren’t you supposed to do it with someone your own age?

Well, he was rather mature for his age after all.

He put his fingers on his lips, which almost felt like they were on fire.

“Shhh,” she said, putting a finger to her own lips—the ones that had just been on his.

Moments later, his brother returned. He shot them a confused look, but she just smiled.

“Your brother says such cute things,” she giggled. “I miss being a kid.”

He felt his stomach turn when she said that.

I miss being a kid.

—

Though that was their first kiss, it would not be their last. Whenever Kristoph had to step out for an errand, whenever she arrived early to wait for him to return from work, and soon whenever his brother was only in the next room over. He was just so irresistible that she couldn’t wait anymore.

It felt scandalous. It felt dangerous. And that felt sexy.

He knew there was something wrong about this, with the way she would whisper don’t tell your brother as her hands slipped past his waistband. There was some reason his brother couldn’t know about this—why it had to be their secret. He wasn’t sure exactly why. He wanted this, after all. The adults just wouldn’t understand.

When he went to school, he got to brag to his friends about the sexy adult woman who liked him, and liked to kiss him and touch him and do all of those things that lovers do. It impressed the other boys in class, and he was proud of the fact he had made them jealous. He wasn’t a dumb kid like they were. He was grown up.

She taught him a lot of things that porn didn’t. Quite frankly, he actually had no idea about most of the things she would do to him. It was confusing, and kind of scary, but she seemed to know what to do, and she liked him and it made her happy—and why wouldn’t he want to make the adult woman who likes him happy? She was so nice to him, and she was there to talk whenever his brother wasn’t or didn’t understand. So he decided she could just do whatever she wanted. Whenever he felt like he might not be ready, or he wasn’t sure he’d like it, or he might be getting uncomfortable or scared, she would whisper in his ear that he was so pretty, and he knew it was worth it.

Pretty. That’s what Kristoph called him. That’s what his mother was.

—

If there was one thing that Klavier knew about his brother, it was that he was slow to anger.

Actually, no, scratch that.

If there was one thing that Klavier knew about his brother, it’s that he was angry all of the time, but he never, ever lost his temper.

But then one day Kristoph got home from work earlier than expected and saw his friend on top of his younger brother on the couch. To this day, Klavier isn’t quite sure what happened next. The next thing Klavier can remember is that beautiful woman on the floor of their apartment, one of his brother’s hands buried in that long, beautiful hair and that other smacking her across the face so hard it echoed through the building.

She writhed and kicked and screamed. She scratched at him with her pointy red nails and he watched the blood drip down Kristoph’s hand and onto her face.

The neighbors called the cops.

He doesn’t quite remember how it got resolved either. He doesn’t remember a lot of what happened back then.

But he does remember that, for the very first time, he realized his brother was a scary man.

—

He has one other memory of that day—that night really, after everyone had gone home.

He had gotten into bed that night confused and a little scared. He honestly wasn’t sure what she had done wrong. He felt hurt that Kristoph thought she was hurting him and the police seemed to agree. He had someone who actually understood him and liked him so much, and they were taking that away. 

He remembers that they asked him a lot of questions. It was like when his mother died, except the questions were even more confusing.

And when she would touch you like that, were you scared?

It took him much longer to fall asleep than usual.

And he remembers that, in the dead of night, he heard his door open and heavy footsteps enter the room. He remained still and silent, his eyes shut, afraid that even the slightest movement might scare his brother away like a hurt animal.

Then he remembers feeling hands gently brush his face, and then comb through his hair tenderly.

His brother’s hands were soft.

—

“I don’t know why you bother,” Kristoph said as he watched Klavier fill up the empty cat bowl he left on their doorstep.

“Well, someone’s gotta take care of him, right?”

Kristoph scoffed. “It’s a cat. It can take care of itself.”

Klavier shrugged as he got up to close the door, because the cat wouldn't come otherwise. “I don’t know. I just think he’s lonely.”

And Kristoph laughed at that— laughed. 

“Lonely? Please.”

He didn’t elaborate.

His brother didn’t elaborate on a lot of things.

—

Klavier liked girls, he decided. He had learned a lot over the past few months, and he thought about it often. And this was lucky for him, because girls liked him too. He could have his pick of any of them, which usually resulted in picking all of them. Yes, he certainly broke many hearts throughout his teenage years. But he didn’t feel bad about it. It’s not like they actually liked him, after all. They just liked that he had a pretty face and could play guitar.

He thought all girls were beautiful. Whether they had long hair or short, large chests or flat, quiet personalities or loud, blonde, brunette, or any other color, he thought they were all gorgeous. 

But sometimes, when he brought home a girl with long blonde hair—giggling because they knew his brother wouldn’t be home—he paused.

He thought about Kristoph’s friend who wasn’t allowed to come over anymore.

He thought about their mother.

He thought about Kristoph.

—

Sometimes, they weren’t so slick. Sometimes his brother would end up walking in on them at inopportune moments. The girls were always embarrassed, and at first he was too, but eventually he just learned to laugh it off and gesture for Kristoph to shut the door. Whether or not he actually did depended entirely on whether or not he was in a good mood. 

“Really, Klavier, I don’t know what I could have possibly done to raise you to think this is acceptable behavior,” his brother said one night after his latest girl had escaped out the window, convinced Kristoph had no clue when Klavier knew damn well Kristoph had every clue.

Klavier rolled his eyes. Not this again. “What, sex?”

Kristoph didn’t look up from what he was doing, which appeared to be reading over some legal papers.“Don’t be an idiot. You know what I mean.”

“Well it’s not like we’re religious or anything. I don’t see what the problem is.”

And Kristoph scoffed at that, the same way he always did whenever he was right and Klavier was wrong, end of story. “If you manage to get one of your whores pregnant at the age of 14, you’re on your own.”

Klavier paused.

He could focus on the you’re on your own part, because he was almost certain that his brother really meant it. But that was far from the only strict rule that his brother had ever set for him. It was par for the course, really. No, he was much more taken aback by another comment.

“...Don’t call them that.”

Kristoph hummed in amusement— genuine amusement, not the act he puts on for their company. 

“I’m just saying that if they’re easy enough to drop their skirts after only knowing you for so long, well…”

Klavier swallowed thickly.

It was true that none of these girls really liked him, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing mean things about them. They liked him because he was attractive, but was that a crime? They were nice girls. They just wanted to have fun.

“Wouldn’t I be the whore, if anything?”

Kristoph’s head snapped up, his eyes—narrow and captious—met Klavier’s. “Go back to your room. I’m done with this conversation.”

—

When Klavier graduated from his local middle school, it became time to choose which high school he was going to, and he had a choice in mind that he was extremely happy with. More importantly,however, he imagined his brother would be extremely happy with it as well. He had thought about this decision for a very long time, and he thought for sure that Kristoph would be proud.

Instead, Kristoph just laughed with that same smug laugh of his that he seemed to reserve specifically for Klavier, who could never do anything right.

“Themis? You want to be a lawyer?”

Klavier felt his body heat up with a thick, hot sense of shame , and he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“Well, yeah…”

“Really? You?”

Klavier balled his hands into fists. “What’s so crazy about that?”

“You, with your guitar and your girls and your grades —”

“My grades aren’t that bad—”

“—want to be a lawyer? I know the younger siblings always copy the older ones, but this is ridiculous.”

“I-I’m not copying you.”

Well, he kind of was, but that wasn’t the point.

Kristoph’s smug expression did not waver. “Tell me, what makes you think you can do this?”

Klavier took a deep breath, trying not to let his emotions show. He couldn’t. “...I read your law books when I get bored. They’re interesting.”

That seemed to catch Kristoph’s attention.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“What’s interesting about them?”

Klavier could feel his heart pounding wildly. His voice was shaking and he didn’t know why. He had no reason to be scared.

“I…I think it’s interesting that so many safeguards have been put in place to reach the most just conclusion possible. I think it’s interesting that certain trials have changed societal outlooks and attitudes singlehandedly. I think it’s interesting that our legal system is so ingrained with modern society that in the rise of the three-day trial system—”

Kristoph held up a hand, signalling him to stop.

“You really think you can do this?”

“...Yes.”

For some reason, Klavier was much less sure of that than he was mere minutes ago.

“Alright, fine, I’ll find the money to send you there. But if your grades are nothing less than perfect, you’re going to the local public high school until you graduate. Understand?”

And, despite everything, a sense of happiness and pride rose up within him—happy that he had won Kristoph over to his side and convinced him that he could really do it. That almost never happened.

“Yes!”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” Klavier said, but just as he turned to leave, Kristoph called out again.

“Wait, Klavier. One more thing.”

He turned back around, that feeling of dread from before creeping back in. “Yes?”

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to be a prosecutor.”

At the time, he couldn’t figure out why Kristoph had been so insistent that he become a prosecutor, rather than following his footsteps on the path of defense. There was a lot about his brother he couldn’t figure out.

—

“Why do you think he’s so mean anyways?” Klavier asked as he watched the tomcat from outside the window, prepared to shift his gaze away at even the slightest hint that the cat might see him watching. “He never lets anyone approach him—not even other cats.”

Kristoph looked down at the cat along with him, his expression distant but his gaze firm. “Well, you know how cats are—especially tomcats. They’re very territorial.”

—

Making friends at Themis was hard. Klavier learned quickly that most law students were actually just like his brother, and they tended to be stuffy and serious and boring. Most of these students saw his carefree attitude and uniform that wasn’t to code and decided he wasn’t anyone worth being friends with.

There was one boy, though, who didn’t seem to care—although truthfully, Klavier was pretty sure it was just because the kid wasn’t smart enough to tell there was a reason the other kids avoided him. He vividly remembers how the kid introduced himself because he felt like it was extremely vapid and not a proper way to introduce oneself at all—like the bully character from a children’s show.

The boy smirked as he slid into the seat next to Klavier, much too proud for his own good. “I’m Sebastian Debeste. My father used to be chief prosecutor.”

Klavier stifled a laugh as he shook the boy’s hand.

“Is that so?”

Sebastian gave an extremely smug laugh before leaning back in his chair and launching into a rant about all of the amazing things his father had done both as chief prosecutor and not. 

Klavier humored the boy, pretending he genuinely cared about the exploits of this kid’s rich and famous daddy who he was clearly riding the coattails of because he couldn't make a name for himself on his own. It was hilarious, really, and the funniest part was that Sebastian clearly didn't have even an ounce of self-awareness.

And as Klavier listened, he recalled his brother’s words.

Connections are the most valuable thing you can have in this world.

He thought about Kristoph’s friend who isn’t allowed to come over anymore.

He thinks about her a lot.

— 

Against all senses of logic and reason, Themis Legal Academy had a talent show. Klavier thought that law students hated fun, but apparently he stood corrected!

“Hey Sebastian,” he said while waiting for class to start, “do you think you’re going to sign up for the talent show?”

Sebastian wore that same smug grin he always did (which, frankly, he had no business going about wearing, but Klavier certainly wasn’t going to tell him that).

“Whatever for? I don’t need to get up on stage to prove my worth. Everyone should already know it just by observing how successfully I go through life.”

Your grade on our last test in this class says otherwise, Klavier wanted to say. But he didn’t. Kristoph would say he was doing it wrong if he did.

Still, Sebastian’s words stuck with him. Of course. He was a fool to think it was ever anything other than yet another competition.

“Well, I don’t think it has to be about proving your worth,” he supplied lamely, but Sebastian was absolutely not convinced.

“What other reason would you show off in front of hundreds of people?”

Klavier blinked. “...For fun?” 

That should be common sense, of course, but he had forgotten he was talking to Sebastian Debeste.

And Sebastian just looked back at him with the most baffled look on his face, clearly trying to understand but not actually understanding one bit.

“...I guess.”

Klavier sighed, trying to explain it in a way Sebastian would understand.

“It’s like…when you partake in your craft, you should feel happy, right? And getting to watch other people have fun doing what they’re passionate about as well…it also makes you happy. It’s inspiring. Right?”

Sebastian still didn’t seem to get it. Well, that’s okay. He didn’t have to. That’s not what relationships are for, anyways.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to sign up,” Sebastian said with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah…”

Klavier felt his face heat up, and that same sense of shame and dread that he got when talking to Kristoph overtook him yet again. He wasn’t sure why. Of all people to take life advice from, there’s no reason it should ever be Sebastian Debeste.

“What can you even do?” Sebastian pursued the line of questioning. He said it judgmentally, but there was a hint of something else in his voice—curiosity, perhaps? Sebastian had never been good at hiding how he felt.

“Um…I play guitar. And I sing.”

And that seemed to really intrigue Sebastian. He leaned forward, tenting his fingers and cocking his head to look at Klavier with that smirk he always wore.

“Really?”

And, well, Klavier wouldn't pretend that seeing Sebastian’s curiosity hadn’t made him as equally curious back.

“Yeah. Are you…interested?”

“Well, if only to see what’s so special about this craft of yours.”

That actually made Klavier somewhat excited. If it could work on Sebastian, maybe it would work on the rest of the stuck up students at this godforsaken academy as well (although that was a big maybe, considering Sebastian was…Sebastian).

“Well I’ll sign up then. You should come.”

“...Alright then. I think I will.”

— 

Klavier kept his word and signed up for the talent show. Almost everyone at the talent show had some sort of singing act, but he doubted most of them brought an instrument with them, so that put him a step ahead. He wasn’t convinced he would win, but he hoped he would stand out at least.

So he got up on that stage—just him and a guitar and a microphone—and as he looked out at the crowd of Themis students, it hit him that he had never performed in anything before. 

His heart was pounding out of his chest as he realized how many eyes were on him.It reminded him of how he felt whenever he disappointed Kristoph, which seemed to be every day at this point. It reminded him of Kristoph’s friend who isn’t allowed to come over anymore.

But then, near the front, he spotted a familiar face.

It was the face of a boy who thought much too highly of himself.

It was the face of a boy who relied on his father’s influence because he was poor at accomplishing anything on his own. 

It was the face of a boy too stupid to understand why some people have no friends.

It was the face of a boy who didn’t understand the concept of fun and happiness.

But most importantly, it was the face of a boy who chose to come to this talent show.

It was the face of his only friend.

So, he opened his mouth, put his fingers to the strings, and performed.

—

Somehow, he won the talent show.

When all was said and done, he could practically feel the thunderous applause and cheers from the typically stuck-up students of Themis Legal Academy, expressing feelings of genuine joy and excitement. As he stood there, dizzy, out of breath, and a bit sweaty from the stage lights, he experienced the art of the performance high for the very first time, and it would not be the last.

After his turn was over, he joined the audience, hoping to find Sebastian, and when he did, Sebastian was…crying?

And when Sebastian saw him, his big, brown eyes grew even wider and he frantically tried to wipe his tears, but they just kept coming.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m, uh…” Sebastian took a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself. “I know I’m not supposed to– it’s just, I…”

And Klavier laughed, slinging an arm around Sebastian and pulling him close.

“It’s okay. Crying is good.”

Gears seemed to turn in Sebastian’s head. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to speak in a quiet voice. Klavier almost couldn’t hear him over the crowd.

“My father cries all the time, you know. But when he does, he…”

Sebastian didn’t finish that sentence. To this day, Klavier had no idea what he was going to say. It seemed Sebastian was so, so close to a revelation, but like always, just fell short.

It’s okay. He had the rest of his life to figure it out.

— 

The day after the talent show, as he was leaving school, he encountered another boy about his age—one who didn’t go to Themis, as he wasn’t wearing the uniform and Klavier had never seen him before.

Well, “encountered” wasn’t exactly the right word. The boy dramatically stood in front of Klavier and refused to let him proceed on his usual route. Public transport was already unreliable, but he was definitely going to miss his bus if he didn’t resolve whatever this was.

Klavier stood with his back straight, doing his best to match the boy’s confidence but being unable to hide the confusion in his voice. “...Can I help you?”

The boy grinned at him with a certain fire behind his eyes that Klavier recognized as passion. He could admit, that had him a little interested, even if he had no clue what was going on.

“Yes, actually. I have a proposal for you.”

That did not help. “...Okay?”

The boy pointed a thumb at himself, his proud grin never faltering. He spoke with the confidence of a politician spouting absolute nonsense.

“Start a band with me.”

Klavier blinked. What? He didn’t know what he was expecting, but that’s kind of an insane thing to say to a guy you just met. 

“I don’t even know you.”

“Not yet. But you will!”

Klavier narrowed his eyes. This kid was very certain about this, but he hadn’t even explained how it would happen, or what benefit or would bring them. Hell, he hadn’t even answered the most important question, which had been pervading Klavier’s mind since the moment this kid opened his mouth:

“Why me?”

The kid looked at him like he just asked for directions to Mars. “Are you kidding me? Because you’re a musical genius! Your performance at the talent show was insane—you won for a reason! You’ve got some serious talent.”

Well, being called a musical genius certainly felt good, but that did little to quell the fact that the kid’s response had just raised a million more questions. 

“...How do you even know that? You don’t go here.”

“I have a friend in the judge course. I came for him. You might remember him—he was the one with the keyboard. He placed second.”

Suddenly, things were making a lot more sense, and Klavier was actually getting excited.

“I do remember him. He was really good!”

“Yes in fact he was! He plays keyboard, he has another friend who can play drums, I’ve got bass covered, we just need a lead guitarist,” the boy did not miss a beat in replying, counting the musicians off on his fingers. “And not only have I found one, I’ve found one who can cover lead vocals too! You’re easily the best singer of all of us”

Klavier felt himself flush hot under the praise.

“W-Well I wouldn’t say that. Your friend on the keyboard—he was good at singing too!”

The kid put his hands on his hips, Klavier’s weak arguments doing nothing to change his position. “Yeah, but you’re better. And he doesn’t prefer to sing anyways.”

Klavier looked away nervously, tucking some hair behind his ear out of habit. His face felt warm. “That’s very kind of you…”

Then the boy slung an arm around Klavier’s shoulder, leaning in close so their faces were side by side. “Here’s what I’m thinking: we go for some sort of legal theme.”

“...But you don’t go here.”

“No. But I have a plan. I’m going to be a detective.”

Klavier could see the pieces falling into place. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got. There was just one problem.

“But…wait, you clearly need someone who can play electric guitar.”

The boy laughed, releasing Klavier from his hold but not actually letting go of him, still resting a hand on his shoulder. “ Please, if you can play acoustic then you can play electric. You know, you can just say no if you don’t want to join. You don’t have to make excuses.”

Klavier looked down, embarrassed. “I-it’s not an excuse! I mean…I don’t know where I could get an electric guitar. I can’t afford one.”

And like always, the boy had an answer to that in an instant. “Oh, no problem. You can borrow one of mine.”

“What? But I thought you said—?”

The boy laughed again. “Oh, Klavier, you’re adorable, you know that?”

Adorable. It wasn’t the first time he had been called that, but it made him feel a little weird. It made him feel small. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wasn’t a kid, after all.

He wondered how the boy knew his name at first before he remembered the talent show. This kid was on top of everything, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, here’s your first lesson,” the boy continued, “it’s very rare to meet a bass player who does not also play guitar. In fact, I’m usually a guitar player, but, well, no one else I know can play bass.”

Ah. That should be obvious, shouldn’t it? Klavier felt stupid now.

Well, he usually felt stupid.

Nonetheless, he was now faced with the reality that he didn’t have any more questions or concerns. The boy had come at this in a rather out-of-pocket way, but it certainly wasn’t a bad idea. Klavier liked playing music, after all. He couldn’t really see a good enough reason to say no.

So he put on his best smile to match the boy’s energy. “Well…okay then! Sure.”

And he swore he could see stars in this kid’s eyes. “Really? You mean it?”

He could hear his brother’s voice in the back of his mind.

What could you possibly gain from joining a band Klavier? That certainly isn’t going to get you any further in the legal world. 

No. It wouldn’t. But what he could gain from it was happiness. Their mother taught him to love music. When he stood up on that stage, he felt the music in his soul, flowing out of him like it was what he was born to do. He wanted to perform. He wanted to sing. 

Kristoph would never understand. He was just like every student at Themis Legal Academy who whispered about him in the halls as he walked past with their snickering tones and judgemental glances. 

He had never seen Kristoph genuinely smile once when it wasn’t at the expense of someone else.

“Yeah. I do. Let’s start a band!”

“Awesome!” The kid pumped his fist in the air in celebration. Then, he stuck out his hand and made a “gimme” motion. “Give me your phone.”

It probably wasn’t wise to hand such important personal property over to a stranger, but if this was some sort of scam it was a damn good one. So hesitantly, Klavier obeyed. 

After typing on it for a moment, the kid handed it back. “Great! I put my number in. I’ll contact you once the details all get sorted and we can meet up! Now I gotta go, or I’m going to miss my bus! Bye!”

Klavier laughed softly to himself as the kid ran off. Sure, Klavier was allowed to miss his bus, but god forbid mystery bass kid did the same.

Then he realized he couldn’t call him mystery bass kid if they were going to be in a band together.

He looked down at his phone to see a new contact under the name Daryan Crescend.

— 

“Really, Klavier? You’ve joined a band? What could you possibly gain from joining a band?”

Called it.

Klavier just sighed as he crouched down to fill the cat bowl up for the night.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

There was a pause. Kristoph’s tone sharpened. “Are you talking back to me?”

Klavier bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good.”

Kristoph watched as he put the bowl out on their porch and closed the door, seating himself at the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the cat tonight.

“I don’t know why you still insist on doing this,” Kristoph said, even though Klavier hadn’t asked. “I thought you’d have grown out of it by now.”

Klavier didn’t say anything. He really didn’t want to have an argument.

But the sharp, hostile tone came anyway—full of bite and vitriol. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“Listen to me when I’m speaking to you, Klavier.”

“Sorry. There’s no reason for it, really. I just like cats.”

Kristoph hummed smugly. “Of course. That’s just like you.”

What’s that supposed to mean? He didn’t ask.

“I guess so,” he said, even though he had no idea what Kristoph even meant.

“Dogs are the superior companion,” Kristoph said as he joined Klavier at the window, and they both watched the old tomcat eat all alone. “They come when you say come, sit when you say sit, and speak when you say speak.”

—

He was nervous the first time he came to Daryan’s house so the band could officially get together. As of now, it was run out of his parents garage, as they were incredibly nice parents who were supportive of their son’s dreams. Dayan lived in a pretty two-story house in the suburbs with a lawn out front. 

Daryan’s friends were an alright bunch. They were all Themis students like himself, but they didn’t actually seem all that concerned with the law—not like he and Daryan were. It’s a good school, it’s a decent career path, it’s what my parents wanted, none of these people really wanted to be lawyers. They hadn’t had to argue their case to their parents about why they needed to go to this school. 

They were fine. They could play well together and he got along with them just fine. All of them wanted to play music (in fact, for most of them they seemed much more interested in music than the law) and they did so just fine. They could be a real band, and in fact, they could probably even be friends, if not best friends.

And they were terribly impressed by Klavier. They thought that with him, they really had a shot at getting far as a band. They wanted him to be the frontman, and write most of the songs.

They just like you because you have a pretty face and can play the guitar. Remember that.

—

One day, Sebastian walked into class with a black eye. 

All eyes were on him as hushed whispers permeated the classroom. Sebastian took a seat next to Klavier, and he could see on Sebastian’s face that the boy was uncomfortable. Sebastian might not have been very bright, but he could tell when people were talking about him, and he hated being left out. He hated being treated like a kid. Klavier understood that well.

Both Klavier and Sebastian knew that they had to talk about it; there was no avoiding it. However, Klavier wanted to spare his friend further embarrassment so waited until class was over, and, once the bell rang to dismiss them and they walked out of class, he discretely pulled Sebastian aside into one of the copy rooms to question him.

“I walked into a door,” Sebastian said before Klavier even got to open his mouth.

Part of him wanted to believe it, because he didn’t want someone to be hurting his friend and Sebastian was probably dull enough to actually do it. But he knew better. And based on how Sebastian spoke about his father, he had a good idea of where it came from.

“If you're going to lie, you need to come up with a better excuse. That’s the first excuse anyone gives for a black eye.”

Sebastian balled his hands into fists and furrowed his brow. Tears were welling up in his eyes. “It’s true.”

Seeing that, Klavier softened his voice. Sebastian was clearly very defensive right now; he didn’t need someone to interrogate him.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

That was the truth. It’s not like it was any of his business, after all—family matters are family matters. He just wanted to be there for his friend, that was all.

Several emotions seemed to flash across Sebastian’s face at once. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, he almost looked like he was about to tell the truth, but then he scrunched his face up and averted his gaze.

“I walked into a door. That’s what happened.”

But as he said it, tears began to fall down his face.

Don’t worry about it , Sebastian had told him once. It runs in the family. It doesn’t mean anything. 

“I-It was my fault, anyways,” Sebastian said as small sobs escaped him. “I messed up.”

Images of Sebastian bleeding on the floor of his home flashed through his mind. He could almost see former chief prosecutor Blaise Debeste with a hand raised over his son.

He’s an amazing prosecutor, Sebastian had said with wonder in his eyes. Really, he can’t be beat. He keeps our streets safe. He does so much to protect the people of this city. 

For a brief moment, an image of Kristoph flashed through his mind too—the one of him with a fistful of blonde hair, bleeding onto the face of a beautiful woman.

Klavier sighed.

“Okay. That’s what happened.”

— 

Klavier stared down at his returned midterm test in contempt. He had gotten a 78%, which certainly wasn’t failing but was far from good. He really didn’t understand why this was happening. Contrary to popular belief, he was doing his very best to pay attention in class and study for his tests. Was Kristoph right all along? Was he just not cut out for it? Because he wasn’t serious and dedicated enough, and wasted all of his time on music and sex?

He was so focused on burning figurative holes in the paper with his eyes that he didn’t notice the bell ringing, the other students filing out of class, or the instructor approaching him.

“I can tell you’re not happy,” she said, causing him to raise his head.

Her name was Constance Courte, and she was an instructor of the judge course—although she also taught a few general law classes that all students had to take, of which this was one of them.

He sighed. “My brother said that if I don’t have straight As by the end of the term, he’s pulling me out of the school.”

Professor Courte sat down next to him. “Don’t feel too down. You still have half the term to bring it up.”

Klavier gripped the paper so tightly he was close to tearing it. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m trying my hardest.”

“Are you?” 

He scoffed and slammed the test paper onto the desk. “Don’t patronize me. I know you think I’m just some lazy child who doesn’t really care. I really am trying my best!”

Professor Courte laughed softly, meeting his gaze with gentle eyes and a nice smile. “Now when did I say that?”

He huffed and averted his gaze. “You didn’t have to. Everyone thinks that.”

“No, Klavier, I don’t think everyone does. You’ve been quite popular since the talent show.”

“That just means they like that I can play guitar and sing. That doesn’t mean they think I can be a lawyer.”

Professor Courte seemed to realize she was trying to console a brick wall, because she just sighed in response and stood back up, going to erase her board. After a moment, words seemed to find her again, and she turned back around.

“You said your brother needs you to get straight As, right?”

“…yeah?” He didn’t know where she was going with this.

“Your brother—he’s your legal guardian, right?”

“…Right.”

“He wouldn’t happen to be Kristoph Gavin, would he?”

Klavier put his head on the desk and buried it in his arms. “You’ve heard of him.”

“A lot of people have. They’re calling him The Coolest Defense in the West.”

He groaned and kept his head down on the desk. He really didn’t want to talk about his brother right now.

Professor Courte laughed again, and then suddenly, he felt a hand on top of his head. He lifted it to see her smiling at him.

“Well there’s your problem.”

He furrowed his brow. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Because you’re doing it for him.”

“That’s not true!” he said almost instantly. He was tired of people saying that! Well, it was kind of true, but only kind of!

She was not swayed by his defensive attitude. “Klavier, being a lawyer isn’t about memorizing facts or winning arguments.”

Klavier blinked. That didn’t sound right. Those two things seemed to be his brother’s favorite things to do.

She continued. “It’s about caring. It’s about wanting to see justice served. It’s about wanting to keep people safe and doing the right thing. It’s about finding the truth. If you don’t care, you won’t do well. If you want to be a good lawyer, you have to love the law.”

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t dare let them fall.

“…how?” he asked in a small voice.

“Stay after school sometime. We can talk about it more then.”

—

Staying after school with Professor Courte felt weird. As he sat across from her and she explained various legal principles, he folded his hands and pressed his knees together, trying his very best to listen and make sure she knew he was listening.

Every now and then, his eyes would dart over to the closed door of the classroom. Had she meant to close it? Had she meant anything by it?

About halfway through, she stopped talking abruptly. His heart skipped a beat.

“Klavier, are you doing alright? There’s no need to be nervous.”

He coughed. “Yes, I’m doing fine, um…”

He wasn’t sure if he could explain it.

He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to be feeling this either.

He liked Professor Courte.

When he glanced over at the door again—just by habit—she took note of that behavior. Then, wordlessly, she got up, walked across the classroom, opened the door, and then walked back and returned to her seat.

She had no idea why he was feeling the way he was.

She didn’t need to.

—

Not long after their band was formed, they already had their first performance booked. Klavier wasn’t sure how Daryan got it all lined up so fast, but he was thankful for it. It was at a local music festival, and the whole day leading up to it Klavier’s skin had been buzzing with anxiety—partly because of the anticipation but mostly because they were running late (that damn drummer had a habit of being late. Klavier couldn’t stand it. That kid was in the judge course with their keyboard player—how did he ever expect to be a judge one day if he could never show up to anything on time?).

They barely made it on stage on time, and by the time they got up there, they were already sweaty from running. Daryan spoke as they set up their instruments, but Klavier wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. All that was on his mind was the music. Faintly, he thought he should probably be the one speaking, because he was technically the frontman, after all. But at that moment, he didn’t really care.

So he turned around, took center stage, and gave it his all. 

They were four teenagers playing the first drafts of some songs they wrote of the course of mere days, yet Klavier felt like he was on top of the world, and no feeling could ever compare. Then, at the end of their set, when Klavier was dizzy and out of breath, unable to hear himself think over the sound of the crowd’s cheers, he felt Daryan sling an arm around his shoulder and say:

“Thank you everyone! We’re the Gavinners, and we hope you all had a great time!”

And it was then that Klavier realized he never even asked what the name of their band was. 

—

“You should look more like a rockstar,” Daryan told him one day after rehearsal had ended, and it was just the two of them. They tended to hang back together after the other two left. It was like their tradition.

“What do you mean?” Klavier asked, genuinely unclear.

“Like…I mean, you’ve got that pretty face and all, but this rest is…eh.” Daryan waved a hand in his general vicinity, gesturing at his entire being.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Klavier teased, ignoring the rest of the comment and leaning in close to Daryan’s face playfully.

Daryan laughed and pushed his face away. “That’s not the point.”

Klavier leaned back and let out a hum. “So what?” 

People always said pretty women could get anything they wanted, after all.

Daryan pondered this for a few moments, looking for the right words. “I mean you’re kinda…mousy looking?”

Klavier’s demeanor shifted, sitting up straight. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“No, no, it’s not an insult,” Daryan waved his hands around for emphasis. “I mean like, you know how I’ve started styling my hair recently?”

Yes, Klavier was aware. It was gaudy and loud and told everyone look at me.

“I don’t want to style my hair like that.”

“I’m not saying that. But I am saying it’s just so…” Daryan reached forward and grabbed a lock of Klavier’s hair, his fingers brushing Klavier’s face. “Plain. Aside from the face, you look like every other guy our age.”

Klavier thought for a moment. Plain? Alright. He could fix that.

—

Two days later, on a day when Klavier knew Kristoph had a late night at the office, he was squished into the small bathroom of their apartment with Sebastian, who was layering bleach onto his hair. 

“Um, are you sure I’m doing this right?” Sebastian asked nervously. 

“No,” Klavier replied pointedly, and Sebastian looked scared. “But if it turns out shitty, it’s not your fault,” he added, which seemed to calm Sebastian down a bit.

That was the thing about Sebastian—he talked himself up with such confidence and vigor, but once you got close enough to crack the shell you’d see he was paralyzed of making mistakes, which probably had something to do with how often he made them.

“Why didn’t you ask your friend from the band to do this? He probably knows what he’s doing. He sounds very computed.”

“You mean competent?”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “...Right. Yes.”

“Well, the answer is because I want it to be a surprise.”

Unsatisfied with that answer, Sebastian let out a whine, but continued to apply the rest of the bleach until he was done. 

Sebastian waited patiently in the living room for Klavier to wash the bleach out, and when he finally emerged from the bathroom in a set of fresh clothes and newly blond hair, Sebastian’s entire face lit up.

Klavier laughed. That was one thing he loved about his friend—he was so expressive. Sebastian was a very bad liar, so he showed every emotion on his entire face and everything he felt was real —for better or for worse. It was refreshing, considering Klavier was around people like Kristoph and Daryan all the time.

“So, I look good?”

“Yeah!” Sebastian said with a huge smile—a real one, not like the shit-eating grins Klavier was so used to seeing. “You totally look more like a rockstar now!”

“Thanks. I’m sure Daryan will be thrilled.”

Sebastian agreed with him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just Daryan’s reaction he had to expect.

—

“What the hell have you done to your hair?”

That was the first thing out of Kristoph’s mouth as he came home that night before he even so much as took his coat off. 

Klavier gave a coy smile. “What, don’t you like it? Now we match.” He lazily threw himself down on the couch and played dumb, because he knew Kristoph would be unable to come up with a logically sound argument against going blond. Still, he would try his hardest.

Kristoph could tell he was playing dumb. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Kristoph narrowed his eyes, making direct eye contact with Klavier. “Bleach is terrible for your hair.”

Klavier stared right back at him. “And working late nights is bad for your sleep schedule.”

Kristoph said nothing and stormed off to another room.

Klavier decided that on the weekend he was going to get his ears pierced.

—

It was the last day of the term, and Klavier was nothing but a bundle of anxiety and nerves. Their final grades wouldn’t be coming out for a few days, and those few days were going to be pure agony. It was several days of being stuck in limbo where he didn’t know if he would be pulled from school and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Yet, just as he was about to leave Professor Courte’s final class for the term, she called him over to her desk. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing. 

But she greeted him with a smile that was impossibly warm and bright that couldn’t do anything but put him at ease.

He wished Kristoph would smile at him like that.

“Now, technically I’m not supposed to do this, so don’t go around telling everyone, but I actually graded your final first because I know you wanted those results.”

This seemed to be good news, but his nerves were still eating away at him. “And?”

“Well, if your grades in your other classes are as good as your grade in mine, I’d say your future at Themis legal academy is secure.”

The wave of relief that overtook him was indescribable. He let out a deep sigh, releasing all of the tension he had been holding, and gave her his very best smile. “Thank you. I-I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She laughed at that. It reminded him of ringing bells. “Just doing my job. What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t?”

As he was on his way out, she said one last thing:

“By the way, I like this new look of yours. It looks good on you.”

He turned back around, feeling a bit smug. “Do you mean the hair or the piercings?”

She met him with a look that was equally smug. “The smile.”

— 

With every new event they played at, the larger their fanbase grew—even gaining more than a few groupies as the events they played seemed to grow larger as well. And as their fanbase grew larger, one truth became very clear to Klavier: it wasn’t only girls who liked him.

He wasn’t going to pretend the thought had never crossed his mind—like most boys his age he had a very active imagination. It’s just that until now, he has never even envisioned it would even be possible—trapped within the stuck up and judgmental world of the American education system.

But in the world of music? Oh, it certainly was possible, and a whole new world had opened up to Klavier that was previously unknown.

It wasn’t only girls who liked Klavier, and he didn’t only like girls just the same.

He found he had no preference for whether he was on the top or on the bottom, but sometimes, when a guy was on top of him, he had to stop and wonder if this is what being a woman was like.

—

Over the years, Klavier had gotten good at not getting walked in on, but, well…when you live in a small apartment, accidents happen. 

Kristoph had grown as equally desensitized to it as Klavier had, so he thought that there shouldn’t be any reason for a different reaction to be warranted. Yet, when Kristoph walked in on him kneeling in front of a singer they had opened for recently, a strange emotion flashed across Kristoph’s face—one he couldn’t place.

That was the problem with Kristoph. Klavier was probably better at reading him than anyone else, but to this day he still had trouble. It was as though Kristoph was afraid of letting anyone know how he truly felt, and that included his closest family.

When the situation was resolved (his partner, embarrassed, had awkwardly gone home), he still expected Kristoph not to say anything about it, confusing display of emotion be damned, because he had stopped commenting on it a while ago.

But then Kristoph broke the silence between them with something so far out of left field that Klavier still thinks about it years later.

“Really? Boys, Klavier?”

A long moment of silence passed between them.

“...What?”

Kristoph continued seamlessly, as if Klavier totally understood what he was talking about.

“I mean, I know you’re going through your rebellious phase, but—”

“I’m not.”

“—I never expected this.”

Klavier was possibly the most confused he had ever been in his life.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Watch your tone.”

Klavier did not, in fact, watch his tone.

“Why would you of all people have a problem with this?”

Kristoph just looked down at him with that same condescending look he always did—the one that made Klavier want to rip his hair out.

“Because you like girls, Klavier. You have since the day you were born.”

“...So?!”

Seriously, what the hell did that have to do with anything?

“I just never thought your desperate bids for attention would go this far.”

“It’s not—”

“Why do you never choose a more private location? It’s like you want to be walked in on.”

Klavier’s cheeks burned hot and red. 

Well…okay, maybe that was…

But!

“My sexual orientation has nothing to do with that.”

Kristoph laughed, mean and bitter. “Sure. Just know that when you grow out of it one day, I will be right here to say I told you so.”

—

At some point, the old tomcat stopped coming around. 

He didn’t notice it at first, because the bowl was still turning up empty every morning. But then he spotted raccoons digging at it one night, and he realized he hadn’t actually seen the cat in weeks.

—

Klavier was fed up. He was getting great grades at a lauded school for a well-respected profession but nothing he could ever do was good enough for Kristoph. No matter how he did it, he was always doing it wrong.

So he wasn’t going to make himself clean and palatable anymore. He was seen as a fuck up either way, so if he wasn’t getting anything out of it there was no point. He wasn’t going to waste his life trying to appeal to an authority that would never want him. He was going to be himself and do what he wanted to do.

 If all Kristoph saw was a rebellious teen, then fine! He’d be a rebellious teen. 

—

The first big purchase Klavier made from all of his new music money was a motorcycle, because it was loud and gaudy and Kristoph would hate it. And sure enough, Kristoph did hate it. He made a snide comment every time he saw it and Klavier started riding it to school every day just to piss him off.

Unfortunately, while The Gavinners had built a cult following, they were very much still on the rise and all he could afford at that time was secondhand. He could have waited, of course, but he was 16 and needed to piss his brother off right now. 

And then one day, at seven in the damn morning, it wouldn’t start.

He thought about when he was in elementary school, and how on occasion he would oversleep and miss the school bus, and he would have to awkwardly walk into Kristoph’s room to break the news that he missed the bus. Kristoph would sigh dramatically and tell him off, but he would always make sure Klavier got to school on time.

That day, Klavier ended up missing first period because he had to catch a later bus which was twenty minutes late anyway. God bless public transport. When he saw Sebastian in his fourth period class later that day, the first thing he was asked was why he wasn’t in their shared first period, and Klavier just sighed as he explained his problem.

“…and the worst part is I’m going to have to pay a million dollars at the mechanic, because I can’t figure out what the problem is. The battery seems fine.”

And then Sebastian cocked his head to the side, all oblivious and naive as usual, and said something Klavier never would have expected:

“Why don’t you let me look at it?”

Sebastian? Look at anything involving complex machinery? That sounded like a match made in the fiery pits of hell. 

“…Why…?”

“My dad rides a motorcycle,” Sebastian said shortly, as if it were an obvious fact. “I work on it with him sometimes.”

…Huh. Turns out there were still sides of Sebastian he hadn’t seen before. Well, it would certainly be taking a gamble, but if he could miss out on a mechanic bill…

“Well, if you think you can diagnose the problem, then by all means, be my guest.”

And that’s how Sebastian Debeste ended up with mechanical grease all over his face as he clumsily took apart pieces of the complicated metal contraption. His hands were uncertain—slow, unsteady, and perhaps overly in-depth, too afraid of breaking something or missing the actual problem—but he seemed to be doing it right. He ended up taking a very long time, and taking apart things that almost definitely did not need to be taken apart, but it was much better than anything Klavier could have done. 

And he found the problem, too. Turns out it was the spark plug, which was actually a really common problem and simple fix.

Perhaps Sebastian was sharper than people gave him credit for. 

—

The band members got invited to parties a lot, but especially Klavier. He could sense from a mile away what kind of parties they were—grown up parties, the kind that all of the adults in your life warn you to stay away from or else, because that’s where all of the bad kids go to get killed. He has been avoiding them at first, because he knew Kristoph would never approve, let alone the fact he’s a law student. 

Well maybe he was a bad kid. And maybe he should get killed. See how Kristoph likes it.

A beautiful girl was sitting in his lap and he could hardly hear her over how loud the music was blaring. 

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” she whispered in his ear.

For a moment, he almost thought he heard and don’t tell anyone.

An overwhelming feeling of wrong overtook him and he wasn’t quite sure why or what it was or what was happening. He grabbed her wrist, perhaps to say wait or why or something he wasn’t sure of, but before he could even tell what, she was prying open his mouth and placing something on his tongue.

He thought of how Kristoph’s friend who wasn’t allowed to come over anymore would sneak him treats Kristoph wouldn’t allow, feeding him hard candies by hand when his brother's back was turned, her soft fingers on his lips.

And his memory of that night isn’t totally clear, but if he can remember anything, it’s that he saw stars. Literally.

—

As the frontman, Klavier ended up writing most of the songs for the band. He also ended up writing a lot of songs that never saw the light of day. Music was art and art was, in its purest form, an expression of feeling—and oh boy, was he certainly feeling. Because he was sixteen and went to a school where people didn’t get him and his only family left was always mad at him and he was getting involved in things he shouldn’t and—

When he was alone in his room, he was like a songwriting machine. His hands shook with fervor as he poured his emotions out onto the page. Most of these pages would end up torn out and meeting the business end of a lighter. 

He wondered how many songs he could write that amounted to I hate my brother before he came up with anything good.

His hands were still shaking.

Fuck. He couldn’t be at home right now.

—

He started coming home later every night. Some days he wouldn’t even come home at all. If Kristoph caught him, he knew exactly what he would say.

You really are just like that wretched woman. Turns out she gave you more than just a nice face and musical talent. I don’t know why I ever expected anything different.

And then he’d be pulled from Themis, probably. And maybe even kicked out. 

Idiot. Their mother was a total junkie—he was just having fun. Big difference. It’s not like Kristoph would know, anyways. He was allergic to fun. 

One day, Professor Courte told him to stay after class, but she didn’t have that warm smile he was so used to. She didn’t look angry or even disappointed, but she wasn’t happy. Klavier felt his stomach drop as he approached her desk.

“Kid, what happened to those grades you worked so hard for?” She asked. Her tone of voice was firm, yet gentle. But at the time, Klavier didn’t hear the gentle part.

“Why does it matter to you?!” He countered, his voice guarded and hostile.

She took a moment to think about her words, folding her hands and looking him right in the eye, before she replied.

“Is there something going on at home?”

“No. Nothing.” 

And he wasn’t lying.

She sighed softly, sensing his attitude.

“You're not in trouble. It’s just that you seemed so determined to become a lawyer. I just want to know what happened. Does this have to do with that brother of yours?”

“No!” He shouted, perhaps too loud. “This has nothing to do with him. I’m going to become a lawyer no matter what he thinks about it!”

He stormed off before she could reply.

—

The thing about overdosing is that you don’t realize it’s happening at first. At first you just think you're having an abnormally bad high. But after a certain point of vomiting and convulsing you have to wonder if perhaps you overestimated how much you can handle. By the time his dumb teenage brain finally realized what was happening, it was too late for him to do anything to help himself.

He truly thought he was going to die that night. And he probably would have if he had been alone.

He remembers his…well, he wouldn’t call them “friends” making a scene, grabbing at him awkwardly because they wanted to help but they weren’t sure what to do. They must have been terrified.

There’s one image from that night that he remembers so clearly in his mind: Daryan, looking right at him, on the phone with someone. His eyes were wide and terrified—it was the most afraid Klavier had ever seen anyone in his life, and probably the most real emotion he had ever seen from Daryan. He remembers feeling guilty that he would never get to apologize. 

But then something happened which he would have never expected. 

Somehow, his brother was there. As he would find out later, nobody at this party was aware of the Good Samaritan law. 

He remembers seeing Kristoph standing in front of him, with his imposing stance and broad shoulders and perfect posture like he always did, and feeling scared out of his mind. If the overdose didn’t kill him, his brother surely would. 

He can’t recall what Kristoph’s face looked like, but he can recall being taken in by his strong arms and pressed tightly against him—so tight he almost felt like he was being crushed. But he wasn’t being hurt. No, he wasn’t being hurt at all.

He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder while he cried and shook and made a disgusting mess of Kristoph’s fancy dry-clean-only suit. He must have come straight from another long day at the office. 

One of the last things he remembers from that night is feeling Kristoph’s hands rake through his hair in a gentle way that he hadn’t even known Kristoph was capable of.

It almost felt like their mother was dying all over again. 

—

“...Are you kicking me out?” Klavier asked, digging his fists into crisp, white sheets of the hospital bed. He looked over at Kristoph, sitting in the corner of the room, whose gaze was fixed off into the distance somewhere, away from Klavier’s face.

“Of course not,” Kristoph said shortly. “I know I can be harsh, but I’m not cruel.

A strong sense of guilt and shame washed over Klavier as he saw the distant expression on his brother’s face. He was disappointed, no doubt, but Klavier could see a sort of resentment behind those eyes—bitter and aggrieved.

Klavier felt his eyes sting. It took everything in him not to cry.

“...Are you mad at me?” Klavier asked in a small voice, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Kristoph let out a deep sigh from where he sat, still refusing to look Klavier in the face. “No, Klavier. I’m not mad at you.”

Klavier bit his lip. He didn’t know what to say. He had played this conversation over in his head dozens of times and not once had he imagined Kristoph saying that. He didn’t have a response prepared.

He curled in on himself. He was usually good at reading his brother—as good as anyone in this world could be. But now he had no idea what to expect, and that was terrifying.

He decided to try a different question.

“Are you going to pull me out of school?”

Kristoph’s expression did not waver. “No. I’m not going to do that either.”

His heart pounding, Klavier tried his best to stop himself from shaking. He didn’t understand.

“Why?”

Kristoph didn’t answer.

Then, he looked directly at Klavier, their eyes meeting, and Klavier’s heart leapt into his throat.

“You will stay in school if you so wish, but that means you are going to have to do things my way from now on. You will be home immediately after school every day, I will take you anywhere else you need to go, and your little band will not play at any events I haven’t approved—and if you make so much as one mistake, then I swear you will be home schooled for your senior year. Do I make myself clear?”

Suddenly, Klavier noticed that his cheeks were wet, and it was only then that he realized he was crying. Whether it was out of shame or gratitude, he couldn’t say.

“Yes,” he sobbed. “ Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

—

The first time Klavier ever went to rehab, he was 16.

Rehab sucks. Everyone knows that. And he shouldn’t have to explain why.

When he got there, though, he realized just how lucky he was. He was young and stupid and acting out when it spiraled out of control, and that sucked, but he met so many people there who were so far gone that it scared him.

There were people who looked like they were about to drop dead at any minute.

If he kept this up, is that what he would look like?

So he decided he had to take this seriously. There were many stories out there of musicians dying at tragically young ages and he did not want that to be him. He had so much he wanted to do—he wanted to graduate high school and pass the bar and travel around the world and write songs upon songs upon songs. 

When he thought about dying, he also thought about Kristoph. If he died, that would have meant Kristoph had sacrificed his own happiness all these years for nothing. 

That was the most important part, he thought. He couldn’t let his brother’s suffering be for nothing.

—

The worst part of rehab is that he wasn’t allowed to dye his hair the entire time, and after a few weeks the grown-out roots start to look really tacky. On his first day out, when Kristoph came to pick him up, the first thing he did was complain about it.

He wasn’t quite sure what kind of reaction he expected from Kristoph. They had been on much better terms lately, but part of him could still hear what the hell have you done to your hair echoing throughout his mind. Kristoph would probably tell him he should just let it grow back out and embrace his natural brown.

But...he didn’t. 

“I agree. It must be troublesome, having to let everyone see you like that,” Kristoph hummed from the driver’s seat as they made their way back home. “Lord knows that if I were in your position, I would probably be bothered too.”

And Klavier felt a sort of excitement at that. For once, he and Kristoph seemed to be agreeing on something! And furthermore, he seemed to have changed Kristoph’s mind!

“I know, right! I can’t go to school like this,” Klavier huffed as he leaned back against his seat dramatically and crossed his arms.

Kristoph hummed. “Yes, you’re right. Why don’t we stop for supplies on the way back? I’ll help you fix it tonight.”

A warm feeling of happiness spread through Klavier’s body, and he agreed in a heartbeat.

Later that night, when he felt his brother’s gentle hands running through his freshly bleached hair—inspecting it for any imperfections, of which there were none, because Kristoph Gavin did not make mistakes—he swore he was the happiest he had been in a long time.

He remembered where he had been weeks ago, those same hands in his hair while he was walking the line between life and death.

It must have been terrifying for Kristoph.

He couldn’t let it happen again.

—

When Klavier returned to Themis, he could feel the eyes of every student burning holes into his back as he walked through the halls. He saw their heads turn and heard them whispering, his name ghosting over their lips.

He was lucky enough to have gotten in trouble early, when it was still fresh and easier to treat, so he was out after only 30 days—half of the usual minimum recommended time. But a month is a lot of school to miss, and he had just disappeared without warning.

Throughout class, he could repeatedly see Sebastian staring at him, sometimes opening his mouth and then closing it as if to say something. He would have to explain it to Sebastian later, he owed him that much.

When he walked into Professor Courte’s class, he could especially feel her eyes on him. He had very purposefully come in late because he didn’t want her to say anything. He knew he couldn’t leave it forever, though. Something had to be said. She cared far too much to let him get away with his silence.

So, after class, he nervously approached her after all of the other students had left. And she looked at him with that same kind expression she always wore—one that waited for him to speak when he was ready to.

“Um…” he said, picking at his fingernails, “I’m sorry I was rude to you before. I didn’t mean it.”

He looked into her eyes, and she looked back at him like she had all of the answers to everything, and the answer to everything was love.

“I know, Klavier,” she replied softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He paused, because he didn’t have an answer to that. He wanted to-–he wanted to tell her everything that had been happening to him and everything he had been feeling. But…

“I don’t think I can.”

Part of him hoped she would press harder—ask again once more with feeling, as though he were behind the witness stand. But he knew that would never happen. She cared about him too much to do that.

“That’s okay. But if you ever decide you can, you know I’m here to talk anytime.”

He mustered up his best smile to match hers.

“I know. And I’m going to get my grades back up, I swear!”

“I have no doubt you will,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

—

His senior year came and went before he knew it. The entire time, he adhered strictly to Kristoph’s rules and did not break them once. Oftentimes he would find himself itching—itching to sneak out, to break the rules, to get high as a kite with people who were bad for him. God knows how much he missed it—he would even dream about it. What they don’t tell you about being an addict is just how embarrassing it is.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to Kristoph—not after how much grace he had been given. So he walked at his high school graduation with his head held high, proud of how far he had come.

“What do you think you’re going to do next?” he asked Sebastian as they sat in their assigned seats, waiting for their turn to walk. Sebastian was wearing that fancy cape they only give to the valedictorian. Klavier had...doubts about it, but he knew Sebastian wouldn't take it well if he tried to contest it, so he didn't.

“My father has plans for me,” Sebastian said. His statement was both vague and matter-of-fact. It was clear that his father hadn’t told him what these “plans” were in the slightest, yet they were absolute. “What about you?”

Klavier hummed. He had put a lot of thought into that question, but he felt like he had finally arrived at an answer. “I think I’m going to go to Germany.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why?”

“They let you take the bar early there. Besides, my mother loved Germany. It’s why she named me Klavier.”

After the ceremony was over, and everyone was meeting their family for pictures, Professor Courte came up to him with a big smile on her face. She opened her arms for a hug, and he willingly embraced her.

He wondered what it would be like if his mother were there to see him graduate.

“I knew you could do it,” she said, her voice full of pride.

“And I owe it all to you,” he replied, laughing softly.

“Oh, please. You give me too much credit. You’re a very smart and talented young man—I have no doubt you’ll go far.”

Before he could refuse the compliment, she reached into her pocket and withdrew something—a small box that looked like it probably came from a jeweler. 

“A graduation gift,” she said, placing it in his hand.

Curiously, he opened it to find a silver ring. Engraved onto it was a single phrase: ad infinitum.

“I might have lied to you a few years ago,” she said with a playful smirk. “It was the piercings.”

Of course. That was just like her. His cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling, he took the ring out and slid it onto his finger. “I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.” He was very fond of jewelry.

“You know,” she said as he admired the new ornament, “I doubt this will ever come to pass, but if your music career fails and you get bored of prosecuting, Themis would love to have you as an instructor. I’ll give you my personal recommendation.”

He averted his gaze, trying his best to deflect the praise. “You—You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. What I’m saying is don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he replied, before running off to look for his brother, completely unaware of how the next seven years of his life would go.

If he knew that would be the last thing he would ever say to her, he would have said something more profound.