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Ever since his brother was incarcerated, Klavier always got the same questions: ‘Were there any signs?’, ‘Did you purposefully help him?’, and his favorite ‘Did he ever abuse you?’
His answers were always the same. No, No, and…No.
There was always that dead space for that last one, as if he had to consider it, but that was ridiculous. He knew what abuse was, he wasn’t abused. He was a successful and a completely functional person in society. He was just grieving right now, grieving the loss of someone he thought he knew. Still, something in his gut churned if he thought about the question for too long. He would replay memories in his head until they all jumbled together into a soft mushy mess of yearning and nostalgia. His memory of his pre-teen to teenage years were a blur. He knew they happened, and had a basic idea of what happened, but he couldn’t place a where and when to the what. So he didn’t think about it. He remembered that things went to shit when he was around 11 years old and they continued to be shitty until things came into focus when he turned 17. He had work, something to focus on. Now he was 24, and he was fine. No matter what those people wanted to hear, he wasn’t some victim. He was just a man trying to move on from his brother’s shadow, that tall looming shadow. It seemed to follow him wherever he went. A sick sort of chill crawled up his spine, one he wasn’t unfamiliar with.
***
Hot muggy air, the kind that makes your clothes stick to you, a sensation that already puts him on edge. He had short hair? Long hair? Did it even really matter? The location was unfamiliarly familiar, an abstract combination of the different houses he had lived in. Then there was the room. It was extremely in focus compared to the rest of the house. A bedroom. It contained a bed, a nightstand, a bookshelf, and a TV stand.
***
Not working made Klavier restless. Edgeworth made him take at least a month off, and he didn’t have a place to argue, so now he was sitting in his empty condo trying to find something to occupy himself. Nothing seemed fun. No show or movie seemed to intrigue him, he didn’t have any case work, he didn’t want to bother anyone else, and even music seemed bland. That’s what alarmed him most. When he felt like shit he could at least distract himself by playing chords or stringing a melody together. However, when he went to play something it always seemed out of tune. The notes made his head hurt, so all he had was his thoughts. His thoughts weren’t a great option. Currently, he was in the wonderful territory of self-blame. The painful irony of being overly self aware is that you knew exactly how you were fucking yourself over, but being powerless to stop it. He let himself spiral because it made the hours pass by less sluggishly. In an hour he could convince himself he was somehow a murderer. If he hadn’t trusted his brother so blindly, less people would have died. There was blood on his hands too. It didn’t matter that he was only 17 at the time, he was old enough to know.
You’re an adult, Klavier. Act like it.
His voice was still so clear. But he wasn’t an adult, he was 17. He was legally still a child, he was biologically still a child, in every aspect besides Kristoph’s reality he was a child.
Are you seriously saying that about your own brother? I expected better from you, Klavier.
But who was he to go against that reality? Guilt built up in him, a fear. What was he afraid of? He had to follow what he said because something could happen. What was that something? He tried to remember but that just made his brain hurt. He hated that he was so useless without him. He hated how he was still so afraid of a man that couldn’t hurt him anymore.
No not hurt, he never hurt him. He would remember something like that.
***
Klavier was crying over, something? He was looking for something he lost. It was kind of funny how he couldn’t even remember what it was. He was panicking. He felt anxiety coil in him. He was alone, someone was supposed to be helping him, but he was alone. He was angry? Annoyed? Frustrated? That he wouldn’t help him. He just sat and ate dinner. He ran through that nonsensical house trying to find something that maybe never existed. Still nothing. Always nothing.
***
Klavier was depressed, that much was obvious. His voice echoed in his mind, always pointing out his flaws.
No Gavin would be this distraught over a minor set back
It was painfully funny that the voice of his own self hatred was that of his brother. Maybe in some strange fucked up way it helped that the voice wasn’t his own.
Always pushing the blame off yourself, Klavier.
He thought about reaching out to someone, just to hear a voice that wasn’t his. But who? Who was there left? When Klavier was scared and confused he always turned to Kristoph, maybe that was stupid. Did he set that up on purpose? Give him no one else to rely on, that surely would fit the person the media portrayed.
I’m all you have, Klavier. Admit it, you need me.
His best friend was gone, his family was gone, and who would understand whatever he was going through? Wright? As if, he would rather pull every tooth out of his mouth before he sat down with the person his brother fucked and fucked over.
And remind me Klavier, who was the prosecutor that got his badge taken away?
He wanted his brain to shut off. Of course there were vices, drugs and alcohol, but he saw what those could do to people. Being in the music scene wasn’t always as pretty as people made it out to be. He knew that was a trap that would swallow him whole in this state. He couldn’t let himself fall that far. He just needed to sleep. Then he would be free from himself; free from him.
***
Then there were footsteps. Finally he was coming to help, he would help him–then his shadow swallowed him whole, engulfed him entirely. He was far older, far taller, far stronger. His gut twisted until it felt like it tore itself from his body. He knew then he wasn’t there to help. A conversation, one where the words are jumbled, but Klavier feels himself getting more upset. He’s not listening. He shouts. Some bullshit phrase about how he isn’t helping him, then there’s stillness. A flash in his eyes that tells Klavier exactly what’s about to happen.
***
Something didn’t align. In law and music things were simple, there was true and false; dissonant and resonant. Whatever Kristoph was, it is something else. Two versions seemed to exist in his mind, and they couldn’t exist together. One was his brother. the person who he remembered being stern, yet caring when needed. The person who basically raised him, the gentle hand that thread through his hair when he cried, the one who helped become a lawyer, and someone who loved him. Then there was the criminal. The manipulative, evil man that ruined so many people’s lives. The man who murdered several people, probably abused countless others, got a man disbarred and ruined his life, and used Klavier to do it. That’s what hurt most. Kristoph used him–his own flesh and blood–in a plan that ended up getting so many people hurt.
Runs in the family, Klavier.
He needed his voice to leave, it was like a ghost that haunted him. He couldn’t even bring himself to hate it. He wanted to hate it–he did kind of hate it–but he also didn’t. He didn’t hate his brother despite what he had done, but he also didn’t love him either. He felt nothing about his brother. That was the closest statement he could come up with to define how he was feeling. Some strange mix of longing and spite that equated to not-love-not-hate. Klavier found it better not to think about it. If he thought about it too long the more appealing talking to him seemed to become. He was perfectly capable of visiting him in prison. He hoped that when he went he would find his brother again, not the stranger he saw on the stand that day. He knew the idea was stupid, but he wasn’t exactly in the best place right now. He was allowed to be stupid.
***
Klavier didn’t even understand what happened. He was standing in front of him one second and then he was on the floor next to the fake, plastic wood of the TV stand. His mind was blind with panic. All he knew was that he was in danger and that the danger was still there and that he needed to get away.
***
The lighting in his cell was warm, but the air still was cold. The air was always cold around Kristoph. Klavier didn’t care how he looked, no point in dressing up for him anymore. He remembered how much he used to care about looking good for him.
Kristoph was reading, some classic probably, made him look smart. “My, I never expected you to show up here.”
His voice was as familiar as always. Every question, every statement he wanted to say retreated in his brain. He felt something replaced by that itch to please. He didn’t understand why. There was just that instinctive knowledge that something could happen if he didn’t.
“It’s rude to stare. Why are you here Klavier?” hearing his name come from his mouth made his skin shrink.
“Are you still my brother?” his voice was always quieter around Kristoph, being too loud could be seen as aggressive.
Kristoph did that slight squint he always did when confused. “To my knowledge, who my parents are hasn't changed.”
“No, no that’s not what I meant,” Klavier realized his words were coming out too fast, too frantic, “I meant was any of that real? How you cared for me when we were younger, was it genuine?”
“Hm,” he gave a curt hum before he removed his glasses, which meant he was serious. No bullshit or anything, they were talking as brothers. “Of course it was, people are not born monsters, Klavier.”
But it would have been a lot easier if they were.
“I love you, and I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. I never stopped loving you. You were my one weakness, Klavier.” The words were overly sweet, a telltale sign of Kristoph trying to get Klavier to trust him.
Klavier hated hearing those words. He hated how he knew they weren’t completely false, but it just made everything worse. “Then why? Why did you use me like that?”
Kristoph sighed, that sigh he gave whenever Klavier missed something that should have been so obvious. “Because I changed, Klavier. People change and I transformed into what you see now. I became a spiteful man once I started law, that career does something to you. I became desperate and the only answer I saw to all my problems was violence and deception. I just needed you to play a part. Any reasonable person wouldn’t be so hung up on it”
Klavier hated how he understood. Being a lawyer did something to you. He had seen it in his colleagues, in his enemies, in his brother, and in himself. A broken system filled with broken people. “I wish I could hate you.”
He laughed that dry and cold laugh Klavier was so familiar with, “I never thought I would see you in such a pitiful state.”
And there were the insults he knew.
“I expected better of you, Klavier. I thought I taught you to be merciful towards your enemies.”
“Maybe you should have taken your own advice.” Klavier could see how his comment got to Kristoph. That flash in his eyes.
“Is that any way to speak to your brother? I may be behind bars, but that doesn’t mean you can speak to me like that.” he started to resemble his brother less and less, slowly becoming that criminal. “I can still get you in line perfectly fine.”
“You aren’t my brother, not anymore.”
Kristoph stood up and moved in that calculated way. He got right up to the bars, getting as close to Klavier as he could, “You can believe whatever you want Klavier, but at the end of the day we are both Gavins. The same blood runs through us, and I will always be a part of you. No matter how far you run, how much you change about yourself, you’ll always be my little brother. Now stop moping around, you look awful.”
Klavier wished he could have thrown back some witty comment, get the last word in, but he didn’t. Instead, he silently walked out. There was nothing he could say to Kristoph. A part of him also knew that if he opened his mouth he would start crying, and he hated crying in front of Kristoph. He knew that would be giving him a win he didn’t want to give him. That’s when he realized that familiar churning in his gut. He was afraid.
***
For some reason, getting to safety meant backing up into a corner. One of the first thoughts Klavier had was how stereotypical it was. He was definitely crying now, and he heard a voice. The voice was so familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. All he did know was that he was saying sorry. Klavier forgave him, because he didn’t want to know what would happen if he refused. He didn’t actually forgive him though, but it felt nice to pretend. When he pretended to forgive he felt himself pulled into an embrace that was familiar and comforting. He promised to make it up to him, that it would never happen again, and that he was so sorry. Klavier didn’t care; he just wanted to forget.
***
It was late, way too late for anyone to be up. Maybe that’s why he tried calling Apollo then because the chances of him picking up were so slim. The phone rang, and Klavier was pretty sure he was about to reach that awkward but endearing voicemail. Then the ringing stopped.
“Klavier? Why are you up this late?”
Well shit.
“Could ask you the same thing,” he tried to make his voice sound happier, but it was hard to do after you finally stopped crying after two hours.
“Work,” there was a pause as if he was inspecting him through the phone somehow. “Are you alright?”
Klavier knew there was no point in lying to Apollo, he always seemed to know what he was lying. “I am many things right now, alright is not one of them.”
“I suspected as much. I know Edgeworth gave you time off, and I wanted to give you space. I know it sounds stupid, but I was kinda expecting you to contact me sooner. It's been awhile, and I was starting to get concerned.”
Their relationship was weird. They might have had something going on before that whole shit show happened, but then Klavier just kind of vanished. He felt bad. He felt even worse that he had no clue how long ‘awhile’ was.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just been hard, you know?”
Apollo sighed, not a sigh like Kristoph’s, but one that seemed just as tired, “I do know.”
It was kind of comforting to be understood without question, “How have things been over there?”
“As chaotic as usual. Trucy is doing what she does best, I’m taking care of cases, and Wright is working on getting his badge back. He’s doing better, we all are. Edgeworth comes over sometimes to help Wright, but I think they both just miss each other,” he paused before continuing, “but you didn’t hear that from me of course.”
Klavier let out an amused huff, “That’s good, I’m glad.” He just wished he could be doing better as well. “How is it having Edgeworth around? I always found him a bit intimidating.” He always seemed on edge around him, fitting for his name he supposed. He knew Edgeworth was a good man, that he wouldn’t do anything, but Klavier always had that curdling anxiety whenever he had to meet alone with him.
“Once you look past his whole court persona, he’s just a big nerd. I swear that guy can talk your ear off about the strangest things for hours.”
Klavier smiled, “Good to know he isn’t too much of a menace”
Then there was a silence on the line before Apollo spoke up.
“Klavier what’s going on? I know you didn’t just call me in the middle of the night for gossip,” Apollo had a few guesses, but he wanted Klavier to set the pace.
“What was it like working with my brother, Apollo?” He used his name, a way of signaling he wanted serious and raw.
Apollo was kind of surprised by that question, he suspected it had to do with Kristoph in some way, but nothing involving him. “He was harsh I guess. Had impossibly high standards, used my need to please others against me. Very stressful time of my life, all in all.”
Klavier’s mouth became dry as he forced the words out, “Would you say he ever acted abusive towards you?”
“I would qualify that as an abusive work environment, yes,” although Apollo had a sinking feeling in his gut as to why Klavier was asking. “Klavier, did he ever…do anything to you?”
“...No,” that pause was always there.
Apollo didn’t need to have his bracelet on to know he was lying to him, and probably lying to himself, “You don’t need to hide it from me, Klavier.”
“I’m not hiding anything. He didn’t abuse me, he never hit me or anything,” his words came out fast and defensive.
“I would hope as a lawyer you know abuse isn’t just physical,” as always Apollo knew just how to counter him.
Klavier knew that, he knew that abuse could be emotional, but for some reason that didn’t apply to him. If he was abused he had to be physical, maybe that was a way for him to deny what was obvious.
“Apollo, I’m scared of him and I don’t understand why,” he thought about their conversation in prison, “I’m scared that something might happen, but I don’t know what.”
“I was scared of him too. He had this look in his eyes sometimes that just made me shiver, and I used to think it was determination, now I know it was a threat.”
Klavier knew the exact look he was talking about, the one that made his brain scream to run and hide, “It made me feel like he was going to hurt me, but he never did. I would have remembered something like that.”
“Well, sometimes your brain blocks out the memory…” Apollo kept on talking, but Klavier got caught up on that phrase.
He had heard of that before, where something so terrible happens your brain just blacks out that span of time. He felt his gut curdle and twist, and his head buzzed. He didn’t want to know what it was trying to tell him. It made too much sense. It would explain why his memory was so blurry about his past.
“Do you think it’s possible that I’m blocking something out?” Klavier knew he cut off Apollo, he would apologize for that later.
Apollo just hummed, “I don’t think you would be so worried about him hurting you without a reason,” which basically translated to yes.
“I don’t know, I just feel like someone would have noticed if he hit me or something,” there would have to be a lot more of his childhood gone if it was something that severe.
“Physical abuse is more than just hitting, he could have pushed you, grabbed, or pulled your hair. Stuff like that.”
Klavier felt like something finally clicked into place, a night in some vacation home, he was crying and Kristoph was upset and then he grabbed him by his hair and threw him into a TV stand. It wasn’t like a rush of memories or like some grand revelation, he just remembered now. A truth now apparent in his mind. When he was a child, his own brother threw him into a TV stand. Compared to what he had done it wasn’t that bad, but it still hurt. How far gone was Kristoph when that happened? Was it the catalyst? Did Kristoph know? He was too busy processing to even pick up the fact he was crying or that Apollo was calling out to him. He should say something.
“I don’t know if it's better or worse to remember,” he was guessing Apollo could pick up on what he meant.
“It doesn’t have to be anything, Klavier. It can just be.”
Klavier hummed. Apollo was right, he didn’t need to try to make sense of it all. He didn’t have to be a Gavin, he didn’t have to have a brother, he didn’t have to be abused, he could just be Klavier.
And he didn’t mind being Klavier in all honesty.