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♤
Considering what horror would come later that day, Apollo deemed the perfect weather gave no signal of it. Although, he should’ve thought it through more, considering his day already wasn’t going great—a la Apollo Justice style.
“Prosecutor Gavin was giving us a hard time today—which is kind of weird because it’s Prosecutor Gavin!” Trucy comments while tapping her chin, hopping from step to step on the outside stairs of the courthouse, “Liyar didn’t help at all either!”
“Tell me about it,” Apollo grumbled, his two spikes slightly deflating along with him. “I kept thinking I would need to get my hand amputated from how much my bracelet was tightening. I don’t even know why Gavin trusted him as a witness in the first place! If he isn’t found guilty of murdering me, I hope the judge at least calls for some court-ordered anger management classes.”
Trucy nor Apollo had anything else to add to that statement. In the courtroom, red sirens kept blaring in their minds as they went along their cross-examination. Not including his abrasive and harsh manner, the witness (named Liam Liyar—which Apollo conceded was kind of a ‘jerk’ name) had an issue of wringing his security cap and twitching his eye whenever his stance as a true witness was questioned. It was the second day of court and thus, the third investigation. Apollo just wanted to get this case over as soon as possible, and, being assured that his client, Coal Cross—a simple jewelry owner caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—was truly innocent, the attorney figured the truth would have to come out eventually. Descending the stairs, Apollo took a second to look up at the sky, praying silently to whatever and whoever that his day could just please get better.
“Ah, Herr Forehead, another lovely day in court, ja?” Well, he guesses that was a hard fucking no.
Apollo turns around, letting out an audible sigh. “Prosecutor Gavin, please, we’ve talked about this,” he groans while bringing a hand to rub his eyes, “is that really the only way you can address me?”
After Kristoph’s imprisonment, Apollo and Klavier went through a rough patch—forced politeness, awkward greetings, and general misery for both of them. Eventually, after a solemn talk one night, they got over their shit and became something of… friends, with lunch meets and casual hangouts becoming ordinary. Klavier apologized to Mr. Wright—who, of course, forgave him—and got closer to the Wright Anything Agency, practically becoming one with the family. But Apollo wasn’t one to disregard professional technicalities, and he wouldn’t be Apollo Justice if he wasn’t somewhat annoyed by the rockstar at all times.
Trucy, unable to contain her excitement as always, bursts out, “Hi Prosecutor Gavin! You did awesome in court today!” Apollo’s head snaps to her, offended by the statement. Isn’t she supposed to be on the defense’s side—their side?!
“Aha, danke, Fräulein Wright—and bitte, Klavier is perfectly fine.” He winks. Apollo grumbles more. “I apologize for being a bit rough today; this morning wasn’t so kind to me.” He twirls his perfectly styled hair and smiles with his patented white grin—yeah, all signs of a harsh morning. “And yes, Herr Forehead, I have plenty of other names for you! Liebling is one… Schatzi… or perhaps you’d like Mein Herz more-”
“You know what, Herr Justice is totally cool too!” Apollo interjects, fighting the heat that’s furiously growing on his face—the result of countless late night Google Translates—, “Or just Apollo Justice! You know? My actual name?”
“Ja, ja, whatever you want, Mein Schatz,” Klavier says with his relaxed smile, leaning forward. Apollo groans, covering his face to hide his frustration and his totally nonexistent blush. To the side, Trucy giggles, drawing attention and saving Apollo from further humiliation.
“Well, Klavier,” she stresses with a wiggle of her eyebrows—scratch that—“Polly and I were gonna go grab a bite before going to the crime scene for a quick lookie! Wanna come with?” Klavier looks to the side, hand on his chin as to think about the question. In these few seconds when Klavier isn’t paying attention, Apollo’s eyes meet Trucy’s. He tilts his head aggressively, an obvious question burning in his eyes.
Um. What the fuck. When did I agree to this?
Trucy raises an eyebrow, immediately understanding the silent conversation they are having. She snidely smiles, shrugging with her hands.
What you don’t have the balls to do!
Trucy (wrongfully!) assumed long ago that something deeper was growing between Klavier and him, and this could not be a worse time. They were on a case!
Apollo has never wanted to strangle his sister more, and he probably would’ve if Klavier hadn’t turned back to face the siblings.
“I appreciate the invite very much, mein Fräulein, but unfortunately, duty calls. I need to get to the crime scene ASAP,” he explains with a remorseful smile before looking to Apollo, “I’ll see you there, ja, Schatz?” He winks.
Trucy giggles.
Apollo rolls his eyes but smiles despite himself. “Sure, Klavier. See you.”
He supposes he could ignore the professionalism just this once.
♤♤♤
After stopping by a nearby cafe to grab a couple of drinks (and a certain Danish that a rockstar expressed a love for. Apollo refuses to look Trucy in the eye when he shoves it on the counter to be paid for), they walk over to the bus station. Apollo hadn’t bothered bringing his bike for once, and Trucy was concernedly excited at the thought of using public transport.
They depart the bus at the nearest stop and make the rest of the short trek towards the crime scene. Along the way, they quickly review the facts they have so far.
Their client, Cole Cross, had been arrested for the murder of his ex-girlfriend, Villy Noose. Cross claimed that Villy was manipulative, convincing Cole that her nonstop unfaithfulness and emotional abuse were due to the shortcomings of himself as a man and partner. Eventually, Cole—with the help of family and friends—was able to leave her, though it took several therapy sessions to piece his self-identity back together afterward. Anyways, less than 6 months later, Villy found out where Cole worked, a jewelry shop a few towns over, and visited him. Cole was terrified by the mere sight of her again, but he tried to cling to his integrity and nervously helped her as she browsed. Apparently, the rare item she was searching for—a black cross necklace—appeared to be misplaced, and because of her nonstop badgering, Cole agreed to go check in the backroom in case he stored it by accident. When Cole came back 10 minutes later (after a frantic call to his therapist in the back alley), he found his ex bleeding out over the counter, the prized large cross necklace lodged in her neck. He tried to help stop the bleeding, his compassion overriding any thoughts of leftover fingerprints or hatred, but when the police eventually came, they determined him as the prime suspect. Villy was announced DOA.
Apollo managed to extend the trial to a second day by claiming that a handkerchief was originally wrapped around the necklace at the crime, although the client’s fingerprints remained on the weapon. Today, Klavier brought forth a witness, a security guard who had been watching over the security cams. Apollo thought it suspicious that the cams were currently under repair, and as Liam Liyar—the witness—claimed he accidentally spilled coffee over the machinery at the shock of witnessing the murder on the cameras, Apollo could hardly pay attention to anything other than the violent tightening around his wrist. Liam, between countless insults and threats to everybody in the room, stated that he witnessed Cole aggressively return and swiftly stab Villy in the neck with the weapon, kicking over a box that was behind the counter in the process. The police confirmed a dented box was present behind the counter at the scene. Such a tiny detail confirmed his validity as a witness, Klavier claimed.
In between the obvious lies and painful squeezes, Apollo was appalled at how sketchy this guy was. The guy was even more furious when court got extended.
That should’ve been signs enough.
Once they arrive at the crime scene, the siblings throw away their trash—Apollo still holding on to a small white bag with the Danish—, share a small fist bump, and stroll in. Officers and detectives are still walking around, much like the previous day, but it seems to have lessened. It’s embarrassing how quickly Apollo clocks neatly styled blonde hair across the room. Trucy notices how a small blush grows on his face and elbows him gently, a soft smile on her face. Apollo instantly scowls at her before striding along the scene, fully aware his flush only darkened.
Klavier is talking to Ema Skye, both standing a reasonable distance apart and not strangling each other, and it surprises Apollo at how civil their conversation looks—atleast until he’s in listening range.
“-ourse, the fop doesn’t believe in science! All the glitter finally got to your brain if you really think my evidence is wrong. What’s next, the world is flat?”
Klavier glares at the detective, rage clear on his face—a rare occurrence for his friends to see. Apollo thinks he looks pretty attractive like that.
Woah, okay, we’re not going down that rabbit hole.
Ema laughs at the glare, and Klavier only darkens it before gritting out, “Why must you put words in my mouth, Frau Detective? I never said your evidence was wrong, I was saying your assumptions about them were unsupported-!”
“Okay, so you think I shouldn’t be trusted? Is it because I’m a woman? You don’t trust women in STEM?” Ema prods, snark evident in her voice.
Klavier’s eyes flashed. His hands slammed into his face. “I can’t believe you- I love women! I like all women!” His hands fly around in a circle. “I just don’t. Like. You.” He sticks a finger just in front of the detective’s face.
“Get your fuc-” Ema begins, before catching sight of the attorney out of the corner of her vision and exclaiming, “Oh hey, Apollo!” A smile breaks out on her face ridiculously fast, considering she just looked like she was gonna punch Klavier in the face.
Apollo and Trucy have to simultaneously stifle a laugh at the speed Klavier turns around, cartoonishly stumbling with horror on his face.
“F-Forehead! Fräulein! I, um, did not think you’d be here so soon.” He offers a lopsided grin that resembles Mr. Wright’s. It is certainly an interesting look and one you don’t see so often on a rockstar. Trucy must’ve noticed too because he could see her bite her lip, suppressing her laugh.
“Hi, Prosecutor Gavin,” Apollo slightly raises his hand in greeting, “Am I interrupting, um… whatever this is?” Apollo gestures at them, eyebrow raised.
“Nein, nein! I was just talking to my lovely Frau Detective!” Klavier forces a grin and moves to wrap a hand around Ema’s shoulder before she hisses a quiet profanity, and he settles for awkwardly crossing his arms. With a grimace, he nods toward her and mumbles, “She gets like this sometimes.” Trucy laughs.
“Well, I love to witness your, er, unshakable friendship,” Apollo says, offering a confused smile, before continuing more seriously, “What evidence are you guys talking about?”
“Wohl-”
“It’s-”
Klavier and Ema begin at the same time, before shutting their jaws and glaring at each other. They do this for a couple more seconds, in which Apollo and Trucy glance at each other amusedly, before Ema groans and waves onehandedly at Klavier. The prosecutor beams at this.
“It’s about the cameras. We had been looking more into this so-called ‘coffee accident’,” he accentuates with air-quotes, at which Ema rolls her eyes, Trucy giggles, and Apollo nods seriously. “The witness claimed he spilled coffee on the wires when he saw the murder because of shock. However, through Fräulein STEM’s findings-,” Ema scowls, “-the moisture markings don’t resemble an accident. The longevity in certain areas suggests the coffee was poured carefully as if to hit specific areas—areas with important wiring. The Fräulein thinks this means that the perpetrator most likely committed this act—the perpetrator being the witness—but I don’t think it matters.” The detective scoffs.
“Please,” she says, “why would it not matter? There must’ve been decisive evidence on the cams, causing the witn-!’
Klavier cuts her off, “I agree it could’ve been decisive, but the cameras are still broken! Whether it was decisive or not, it no longer matters because it’s destroyed. Thus, this evidence cannot be decisive by itself. The witness seems guilty, but his tampering with the cameras proves what? What evidence is there that proves he murdered the victim? The most we can do is charge for tampering of evidence, and that’s if we can truly prove guilt. Until I see more evidence, I will not be detaining another person.”
Ema exclaims, “He was shooting death threats at the love of your life over here!” She gestures to Apollo, who suddenly matches the color of his suit. Klavier just groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, though a faint blush is also present there. Trucy is now fully covering her mouth, silently laughing. “I know we’re the prosecution, but c’mon fop, can you try to see my side of things? This is a chance to find the truth!”
Klavier sighs.
“Okay?” Ema pushes.
“Ja, ja.” The prosecutor grumbles. Apollo laughs a bit. It’s not every day he gets to see Klavier this defeated. He must’ve heard the laugh because Klavier slowly turns to him, his frown deepening. “Ach, I get it, Herr Forehead. Laugh at the fallen Klavier.” He dramatically deflates.
Apollo places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a little playful nudge. “Yes, Gavin, I will laugh—later. For now, we have to go do some more investigating. That cool with you?”
Klavier keeps looking down at Apollo’s hand, as if mesmerized. He doesn’t answer the question.
“Klavier?” Apollo tries again, letting a slight smirk grow on his face.
The prosecutor suddenly looks up, as if he barely realized where he was, before giving Apollo another one of his dopey smiles. He still didn’t answer the question. Man, what kind of morning did Klavier have for him to be this out of sorts? He keeps gazing at Apollo, which causes the attorney to flush silently before pulling his hand away and rolling his eyes.
“Ahem? Can you please not do this crap right now? I actually feel nauseous,” a voice grumbles.
Apollo and Klavier turn quickly to find Ema staring at them with her arms crossed, clearly irritated. Trucy is standing next to her, with sparkles in her eyes and the hugest grin on her face.
Apollo groans, “Trucy, don’t look at me like that. C’mon, we have to go investigate,” before walking away, Trucy falling into step behind him. When Apollo looks behind him, he sees Klavier staring at him with his dazzling grin. He scoffs before remembering he’s still holding onto the white bag. Apollo quickly turns around and shoves it at Klavier.
“Erm. I-I accidentally bought an extra Danish. Here,” Apollo mumbles with a slight blush.
He doesn’t bother looking at Klavier’s face, unable to handle the embarrassment, and strides away. He’s almost out of listening range when he faintly hears a rustling noise and,
“Ach, Fräulein, pinch me, I must be dreaming.”
“Okay.”
“This m—ACK!! I SAID PINCH!”
As Apollo walked away, he heard maniacal laughter fade out.
♤
It had only been 30 minutes later when Apollo found the evidence. At this point, Trucy had gone, and Klavier had silently flocked back toward Apollo, decidedly not mentioning the Danish. Apollo didn’t mind the short distance between them, because as much as it caused his heart to pound faster at first, he breathed easier when Klavier stuck around. They’re standing behind the glass counter, where Cole had stood when his ex arrived.
As Apollo scans the room, he keeps thinking back to Klavier’s behavior in the morning. It wasn’t a huge difference, but anybody who knew the rock boy could spot the obvious frustration and tension in his eyes. He was more curt in his proceedings, more aggressive in his refutes, and unlike himself. Guess no time is better than now, Apollo figures.
“So…” Apollo starts like a clown. Klavier shoots him a glance. “I was just wondering. What was up with you today?” Klavier looks away.
“I don’t understand, Forehead,” he says, face unchanging as he skims through files.
“You just seemed more stressed today, that’s all.” Apollo shrugs, surveying the scene before him once again.
For a beat, neither of the lawyers speak before—
“Yesterday. It was, er, difficult,” Klavier admits quietly. The stutter catches the attorney’s attention. “It’s the anniversary of my parents. Usually, it was tradition for us to meet and…”
Apollo didn’t need Klavier to explain who “us” was. “Oh,” Apollo looks at the prosecutor, “I’m sorry, Klavier. I had no idea.”
Klavier nods. “Ja. Sometimes, I forget he’s in prison and not a phone-call away. Once I realized I couldn’t—wouldn’t—be able to contact him, I spent the evening in my apartment. I refused to leave.” He twists his braid with a self-deprecatory smile. “It took a lot out of me to get out of bed this morning. I’m sorry for forgetting my manners, Herr Forehead.”
Apollo shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize. Just the fact that you showed up today means a lot. You being here right now means a lot.”
Klavier grins at this and leans forward toward the attorney. “Ack, Forehead. You flatter me too much. I’d stay by you night and day if you’d allow me,” He flirts with a wink.
“The feeling’s likewise,” Apollo concedes seriously, to which Klavier cocks a surprised eyebrow. The brunet immediately understands the connotation and blushes, rectifying, “W-What I mean is—well, next year, don’t feel like you have to be alone. I wouldn’t mind hanging with you for a day or two. As long as you’d have me.”
Klavier pauses, and just when Apollo begins to worry he overstepped, the rock boy breaks into the brightest smile that would make paparazzi melt. “I’ll remember that,” the prosecutor says softly.
Apollo stands, feeling his face burn up, and desperately changes the subject “Yeah, yeah, i-it’s whatever.. Now help me investigate, and maybe I can free up my schedule for next year.”
Klavier’s eyes sparkle. Silently, he continues skimming through his file for a while, and the duo falls into a comfortable silence. A couple minutes later, Apollo comments again.
“I just can’t explain it,” Apollo says, gesturing to the crime scene, “Something about this bugs me.”
Klavier shrugs. “Try anyways.”
Apollo turns around, a quizzical look in his eye. “Try what?”
“Try to explain,” Klavier clarifies. He nods slightly, encouraging Apollo to go on. Apollo rolls his eyes, but at this point, he would attempt anything.
“Well, the witness claims to have seen my client kill the victim—which he didn’t by the way!” Apollo emphasizes.
Klavier smiles. “I trust you.”
“It’s just-” Apollo pauses for a second, just to process the looseness of his bracelet, before continuing, “According to the witness, my client stepped in the back,”—Apollo steps back as if to act out the scene—“came out again, and stabbed the victim. Which is already doubtful considering the fact a handkerchief was used and yet fingerprints were on the weapon. And that-” Apollo pauses a second time, a serious look crowding his face.
Klavier tilts his head slightly. “And what?” The blond asks.
Thinking for a moment, Apollo nervously bites his lip before answering, “Just that… Well, Liyar said that a box had been kicked by Cross on the floor when he moved to supposedly stab the victim. That just struck me kind of odd, a detail like that, you know?” A beat.
Klavier hums in acknowledgment, looking around the room in ponderance before his eyes pause. Apollo quirks an eyebrow. The rockstar squints his eyes, mumbling to himself in slow German before completely freezing.
“Natürlich!” Frowning at the sudden shout, Apollo opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong before Klavier pounces on him, literally.
Klavier, throwing his spare file aside on the counter, excitedly takes Apollo’s shoulders in his hand, shifting him over to a particular spot. Then, Klavier starts kneeling down in front of Apollo, his eyes bright.
Apollo instantly flushes and stammers out, “What are—what are you doing?” Apollo may have fantasized about this a couple of times but never did he picture it in a crime scene!
…Well, maybe here and there.
Apollo shakes his head quickly, dismissing whatever unprofessional thoughts he’s having.
Klavier, too excited to notice whatever implications might be present, ignores Apollo and exclaims, “Find the camera, Herr Forehead!” By now, he’s crouched beneath the counter, and on his knees. His hands are ghosting at Apollo’s ankles.
Apollo gulps, his face blushing a red that probably hasn’t been discovered yet. Trying not to shiver at the sight (and feel!) of Klavier in front of him like that, Apollo lifts his gaze and begins looking around the shop. After a moment, he finds it, above and diagonal to their position. “Um, I—I see it. What are you trying to do, Klav?”
Klavier smiles at the nickname and quickly says, “Sehr gut! Now see: am I visible?” Apollo just stands, still dazed at the sight of him.
“Um, yeah, I see you, Klavier.” The prosecutor rolls his eyes.
“Visible to the camera, Schatz.”
Apollo blinks a few more times before it finally clicks just what Klavier is asking of him. “Oh! Um,” Apollo stutters, glancing at it again and foggily trying to gauge its position. Despite the counter being glass, there are still several jewelry stands. The camera’s perspective of Klavier would be–”Blocked. You’re… mostly blocked.” Distantly, something starts connecting in Apollo’s mind. The defense attorney looks down only to see Klavier’s blinding smile. Apollo has to push down another swallow. “Erm. What exactly is this supposed to prove?”
Klavier’s grin widens, and he (finally!) gets off his knees. “What this means, Herr Forehead, is that your client may just go free,” he says with a smirk. Apollo quirks an eyebrow, eyes slowly trailing between Klavier and the camera.
“I think I’m still a little confused, Prosecutor Gavin.”
“Some things might be too much to understand, even for your big forehead, ja?” Klavier teases.
Apollo flushes but scrunches his brow in thought. What was it that the prosecutor found so exciting? They were just talking about… Klavier on his knees. What? God, Apollo can’t even pay attention now. Apollo was talking about… um. The box. Well, Klavier seems excited at the (obvious) notion that he’s not fully visible behind the counter. So what? Liyar wouldn’t be able to see him through the cameras. So if the box was behind the counter then… Then…
“Holy shit!” Apollo exclaims, fueling Klavier’s smile, “Liyar shouldn’t have known that there was a box behind the counter, especially since it was on the floor. From any angle, you can’t tell it’s there—unless…”
“Unless you’re standing behind the counter yourself. And we know that whoever was standing behind this counter and kicked the box—,” Klavier continues with a sly grin.
“—was the one who killed Villy Noose! Liyar has to be guilty! My client’s free! Oh my god—!” Apollo rants, his voice growing more ecstatic and Klavier’s smile growing more softer, “—Now it’s only a matter of figuring out his motive! Why would he kill the victim?” Apollo asks, finger tapping at his chin.
Klavier’s soft gaze remains, making Apollo start to squirm under his intense gaze. Right as Apollo is about to speak, Klavier’s gaze suddenly breaks and instantly morphs into a grave look. Apollo doesn’t think he’s ever seen Klavier with such a professional look—Apollo is briefly struck with how much he looks like a… well, a prosecutor.
“Where is Fräulein Wright?” Klavier asks plainly.
Apollo, still taken back from the sudden change in demeanor, flounders awkwardly and stammers out, “Um, she’s, uh, she’s—What’s wrong, Gavin?”
Klavier doesn’t shake though, continuing, “Bitte. Where is Fräulein?” Apollo pauses.
“She left maybe 15 minutes ago?” Apollo finally answers, “Something about a small lunch with Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth. Seriously, Gavin, what’s happening?”
The prosecutor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, the graveness is still there. Tone serious, he says, “I think you should go. I’m going to speak with Fräulein Skye. We need to lock the crime scene up.” He turns to go, but Apollo quickly grabs at his arm.
“Klavier. Tell me what’s going on,” Apollo demands.
Klavier stills before taking another breath. Finally, he says, “It’s not uncommon to see witnesses be aggressive or harsh. But if the witness is hiding something as severe as murder, they tend to be more… impulsive. Dangerous, Herr Forehead. I just have this feeling something’s wrong.” Apollo contemplates this, but Klavier doesn’t waste time, turning and yelling at his squad, “Officers! Close up the scene. And find Liam Liyar—I want him detained for questioning. Forehead, come, I’ll escort you out.“ Klavier guides Apollo from the small of his back, leading them from behind the counters, and Apollo is not blushing from the contact—
SLAM!
Every officer, detective, prosecutor, and defense attorney instantly turns toward the entrance to the shop. Liam Liyar stands, his stouter figure swaying on his feet, and his chest heaves heavily. The stench of alcohol and regret fills the room. Klavier instinctively places himself in front of Apollo, and every officer immediately has their hands on their weapons—Apollo is confused about their defensive stances until his eyes catch a glint in Liyar’s hands.
He’s carrying a pistol.
Apollo swallows.
“I—Get out!” Liyar yells, stumbling into the doorframe and scowling at the officers in the room. “She—Villy was the l-love of my life. Why would she leave me for—for him?!” He hiccups, casually wiping his mouth with the hand carrying the gun. An officer nearby slowly starts pulling out his gun before Liam catches sight of it and instantly aims it toward the officer. In a beat, every officer is pointing their gun at Liam, and the targeted officer raises his hands in defense. Liam gives a short burp, and there remains the dangerous glint in his eye.
“Herr Liyar,” Klavier calmly states, though Apollo can see how his jaw is clenched, “Put the weapon down.” The estranged security guard ignores him, instead giving his full attention to the same officer from before.
“Don’t test me, jackass! I’ll do it! What’s the point of a-anything now that Villy is—” hiccup “—g-gone? I didn’t mean to. I was just doing my job, starin’ at cameras all day! She was the light in my life until she—she—,” Liam breaks off in a curt sob, throwing up his armed sleeve to wipe his face.
A beat. The room is still.
With a hoarse cough, Liam continues, “She came back for him. Fucking Cross. The piece of shit was just stumbling around until he ran into the back. When I saw her on that camera, I left my office. I—I just wanted to talk it out with her. But she—I got angry and the necklace was right in that box. Stupid fucking Cross missed it and now Villy—!” Liam scowls before pausing, an unspeakable sadness filling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now… Nothing matters.” Slowly, Liam raises his hand, aiming at his own temple, point blank. Apollo chokes back a gasp.
Klavier finally speaks, delicately choosing his every word. “Herr Liyar. Put down the gun. You don’t have to do this.”
Liam finally turns to the prosecutor, lone tears trailing down his face. “I do,” he says simply, “I made her suffer. My Villy b-bled to death. It’s my fault she’s—” He cuts off. Apollo worriedly looks at Klavier before shifting his eyes to the intruder. Liyar is staring back at the attorney.
“You… You’re that fucking lawyer. Coal’s attorney…” Liam seethes out, rage seeping through his words, “It’s your fault. IT’S YOU!”
Everything after happens in a daze. Suddenly, Liam lowers his aim, and Apollo makes eye contact with the gun’s nozzle from across the room. Ema shouts something, and the weight of Klavier’s body tackles Apollo down behind the counter.
BANG!
Broken glass rains down on the duo. Apollo instinctively blocks his face. Officers begin shouting again, and boots are stomping along the ground.
BANG!
Apollo yelps. The arms wrapped around him tighten. Apollo hears Liyar hit the ground. He’s been tackled by the officers.
Handcuffs and keys jingle. Yelling and grunts echo. But Apollo is still stuck in that brief moment, still seeing the emptiness of the gun’s nozzle.
Despite the witness being quickly disarmed and in the process of being arrested, Apollo is still lying under Klavier’s hold—and not even in the circumstances he would’ve preferred. Two shots. The witness got two fucking shots. They were lucky enough that Liyar had a bad aim. Well shit—Apollo should probably still confirm that statement.
He turns to the prosecutor, who’s also still on the ground with his eyes closed and breathing quickened, and rushes out, “K-Klavier, a-are you alright?” At the sound of the attorney’s voice, Klavier quickly opened his eyes, panicked.
“Ja, ja, whatever—are you OK?” Klavier planks himself up, kneeling, and quickly assesses Apollo with a concerned eye. Apollo flushes at the staring, looking away. The defense attorney later realizes that’s where he went wrong.
“Er. Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.” Apollo starts hoisting himself, figuring they should probably get off the sparkling floor. Apollo lends a hand to the prosecutor, only sparing him a glance before turning his eyes toward the wall embarrassedly. He didn’t notice the darkness spreading and dripping across the rockstar’s shirt.
Klavier smiles—slightly strained from what had to be stress, Apollo reasoned at the time—, taking the attorney’s hand to help himself up. “I am so very sorry, Herr Forehead. This is my crime scene,” He takes a step forward, “Ich bestehe darauf, let me—”
The prosecutor is cut off by his foot sliding back, glass flying.
Apollo, momentarily thankful for his heightened anxiety, quickly turns toward the movement and catches him, hands on his chest. “Woah, are you OK?” He hurriedly asks, much more genuine than before. Klavier smiles unsteadily, feet still slightly swaying beneath him. Apollo is still too concerned to notice the dampness under his hands.
“Ja, ja, just slipped on some-” Klavier spares a glance down, “-blood,” He says casually, before pausing. “…Mein blood.” A glazed look washes over his eyes, and he blinks owlishly. “I am bleeding out. Scheiße.” He notes plainly.
In an instant, Apollo’s head shoots downward, only for all air to rush out of his chest. A dark pool of shimmering blood is growing beneath their feet, though Apollo can only pray the source isn’t from who he thinks it is. His eyes flick upwards at the prosecutor’s torso, and sure as hell, he can see the dark stain in Klavier’s shirt where the bullet entered, red oozing everywhere, including around the attorney’s hands. Apollo looks up, terrified eyes meeting each other.
Klavier pauses for a second before announcing surprisingly calm, “I think I will collapse now, ja?” Then his eyes roll back, and he goes fully slack in Apollo’s arms.
“Klavier!”
Apollo, in a weird combo of rushing and gentleness, sinks with Klavier in his arms, gingerly laying his head on the ground. The air around them feels sticky—heavy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Apollo manages to remember basic first-aid and quickly places pressure on the wound—looking like it’s just under his breastbone. Blood starts seeping through his fingers again, but he doesn’t give a shit right now. “Nononono—HELP!” Apollo desperately shouts, his Chords of Steel shaking the room.
A hiss escapes Klavier at the touch of his wound, his eyes half open from exhaustion and pain. That’s good, Apollo thinks shakily, he’s conscious.
“K-Klavier, it’s gonna be okay, ja?” Apollo gives his best smile, trying to lighten the mood at the faked accent. In the fogginess of Apollo’s mind, he faintly hears Ema shouting at officers to get paramedics. He almost misses a faint “Shit, fop…”.
Klavier gives a feeble smile at the German word, but his eyes start fluttering.
Apollo panics, “No, no, Klav, you’ve gotta stay awake, okay? Just listen to my voice. I-I know it hurts, but you gotta stay with me.” Apollo knows he sounds desperate, but who cares if he is? The attorney gives one last plea. “Please.”
Klavier opens his mouth, probably to say something flirty, before he starts coughing weakly. Blood trickles from his mouth. Apollo’s eyes start stinging. What he’d give to hear Klavier’s flirt right now.
“Shit, shit, shit-! Klav, I promise it’ll be okay.” Apollo wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince anymore. By now, Ema is already by Apollo’s side, placing some clump of fabric on the wound, and pushing Apollo’s hands aside. He makes up for it by cupping Klavier’s face instead. He smears blood on his cheek, and Apollo suddenly feels sick. Distantly, Ema’s saying that the paramedics are almost there and for the fop to hold on just for a minute more. Apollo feels the wetness under his eyes. Klavier’s eyes haven’t opened yet.
“Klavier,” he begs, moving to shake Klavier’s shoulders, “Please, talk to me.” The prosecutor’s breathing starts getting weaker. “Come on, I still have to go to one of your concerts. I-I know I told you I can’t stand your music, but with how much Trucy plays it, I-I don’t mind it so much,” Apollo can’t stop rambling. A hand delicately covers Apollo’s. It’s Klavier’s. “I— I got tickets to your next concert. Well, Trucy forced me to buy them. You know her. P-point is… I’m gonna be there. Can’t have a concert without the rockstar,” he tries to tease through a quivering voice. A squeeze on his hand encourages him. “I want to be there. To see you,” Apollo admits. He can’t even bother to feel embarrassed, especially when Klavier actually mutters a response, voice cracking softly, syllables twisting and noncoherent and beautiful,
“Apollo.” His eyes open for a split second before closing again. Apollo lets out an exasperated laugh through his non-stop tears. He squeezes Klavier’s hand.
“I’m here, Klav. I’m here.”
No response.
Apollo’s heart stops. He tries again, much weaker, “Klavier?”
Klavier’s hand goes slack.
“K-Klavier, please-” Apollo cries.
He sees the blue and red lights flashing through the window, and he sees a man in a navy jacket beside him, trying to talk to Apollo—probably asking him to move. The only thing Apollo can hear is sobbing though. It’s coming from him, he realizes.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, moving him to the side, but no, Apollo has to stay with Klavier, he can’t leave Klavier.
“-llo. Apollo.” He hears Ema saying. “Apollo, you have to let them work on him.”
And if that isn’t the darkest fucking thing.
Apollo cups Klavier’s face again, smearing more blood on his cheek, and whimpers, “Klavier, wake up, please, wake up!” But he doesn’t. His eyes stay closed.
As they take him away on a stretcher, Apollo keeps kneeling on the ground, blood on his hands and his shirt and the floor. Ema is trying to talk to him, something about going to the hospital or going home or some bullshit. Apollo isn’t listening. A sob breaks through, and Ema’s hands take his. And funnily enough, the only thing Apollo can think about is how much money he spent on a concert ticket that he can’t even use. The only thing Apollo can think about is that he knows Klavier would find it wonderfully hilarious.
♤♤♤
Apollo sits in the waiting room, dried blood covering his sleeves and his hands. He doesn’t have the strength to hobble over to the restroom. Ema dropped him off at the hospital earlier, promising to stop by Apollo’s apartment for extra clothes (How did she get a key?) and by the office to tell Mr. Wright about the incident, if he hadn’t already found out. During the drive, Apollo could only watch the clouds drift along a blue sky and wonder how it could still be day, still sunny, how the sun could still be shining when Klavier was… was…
As far as it goes for Liyar, they quickly detained him—where he’s probably facing charges for aggravated assault and… murder? Attempted murder? Is Klavier going to live? Apollo quickly squeezes his eyes shut and shifts in the uncomfortable lounge chair; he can’t be thinking about this right now.
He keeps his eyes closed for a while, just trying to fight off a migraine when he hears footsteps.
“Polly?”
He blinks his eyes open. Trucy stands just in front of him, her eyes observing Apollo’s appearance. Her eyes linger on his bloodied arms and hands. Apollo quickly maneuvers them out of her sight. The siblings look at each other for a second before Trucy just cracks out, “Oh, Polly,” before quickly embracing him.
It’s slightly embarrassing how fast Apollo’s eyes begin to sting. He grips on tighter to the chair, not wanting to dirty Trucy’s shirt. A hand squeezes his shoulder. Apollo glances over to find Mr. Wright standing beside him and Mr. Edgeworth a step behind.
“Hey, Apollo,” Phoenix greets gently, “How are you feeling?” Both he and Edgeworth are wearing their suits. With this whole fiasco happening in the day, they were probably working when they got the news.
“As good as you can feel when your friend gets shot, I guess…” Apollo answers dejectedly. Trucy shuffles away from Apollo, eyes shining with conviction.
“Klavier is going to be okay, Polly! I know it!” Trucy says. Mr. Edgeworth lays a hand atop her shoulder. Not letting her make promises she can’t keep, Apollo thinks darkly.
“Is there any news on Gavin’s condition yet?” Mr. Edgeworth asks, reaching for Mr. Wright with his free hand, “To think this happened on my crime scene. I should’ve seen this, added more security, done something—”
Phoenix quickly leans toward Edgeworth and squeezes his hand. “Miles. This isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault except the bastard who did this,” he says sternly, his eyes turning to look towards Apollo momentarily. Mr. Edgeworth sighs and tiredly massages his temple, knocking his glasses slightly askew—the closest thing Wright will get to Edgeworth admitting he’s right. Phoenix looks to Apollo. “Is there? News, I mean.”
Apollo sighs as well, his gaze dropping down to his feet before he catches sight of his arms, still bloodied. He quickly closes his eyelids, trying to block evidence of the incident. “It’s… No one’s come yet. I haven’t gotten to see him, I don’t even know if—” Apollo swallows. “…I’m still waiting on news.” Phoenix nods. “When it happened, I didn’t even notice. God, Klavier, I—” Apollo’s throat closes off, and quickly, he feels his sister’s embrace. Trucy doesn’t say a thing about the warm tears hitting her shoulder, just combs through Apollo’s hair until he calms.
The family sits with Apollo in the lobby, and Edgeworth later heads out to buy them food (He raised an offensive eyebrow when Apollo offered to just eat from the hospital cafeteria). Shortly after, Ema arrives, carrying a small duffel bag—which at a glance inside, seems like it’s packed with way more than a simple change of clothes. Is that a fork?
“I was rushing! I just grabbed whatever seemed important in the moment!” Ema argues. Apollo doesn’t doubt that she was rushed, but he somehow feels like she didn’t grab… essentials. He’s pretty sure he saw a flashlight in there. Apollo wasn’t aware he had a flashlight in his apartment. Was Ema preparing for a power outage or something?
Trucy beckons Apollo to get changed in a bathroom. Apollo finally takes in his appearance, and it doesn’t take a lot of fight for him to agree. After asking a nurse where he could find a restroom, his heavy footsteps and the shuffle of his bag were the only sounds echoing through the empty hallway. He tries his best to wash the blood—Klavier’s blood—off his arms. It leaves faint red stains on his arms, but after everything, Apollo can’t be bothered. After drying off his hands, he looks up at the mirror to see red eyes staring back at his flushed face. He’s been crying. He is crying. Apollo shakily raises a hand to his cheek, wiping away a warm tear.
Goddamnit.
Apollo slips on the spare t-shirt and joggers that Ema brought. Scrummaging through the bag, he also found that she brought… boxers?! Why was she looking through his underwear?! Apollo embarassedly shoves the boxers back in the duffel bag. It’s not like he needed them. Apollo starts to pick up the bag before reconsidering. It’s been a long day… Maybe…
When Apollo walks out of the restroom, clothes (and undergarments) clean, he finds his party talking with someone in a white coat. A doctor!, Apollo’s mind screams. Running over—when had he started running?—, he hears part of the conversation.
“—ays fortunately showed no shell fragments, but his left lung was punctured by the bullet. We haven’t found extensive rib or abdominal damage.” Apollo pauses behind them, to which Wright beckons him over.
“This is Doctor Reyes, Apollo,” Phoenix explains, gesturing to the lady, “She says—”
Unable to stop himself, Apollo quickly asks, “How is he doing? Is he… is he going to…” The doctor, a brunette hazel-skinned woman looking to be around her late 30s, turns to Apollo with a gentle smile.
“Mr. Gavin is stable as of now. The bullet entered just below his sternum and only hit his lung. Surgery’s been successful in removing the bullet and inserting a chest tube. We’re prioritizing clearing the blood from the lung and allowing it to re-expand with air. His recovery looks good.”
Apollo lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Wright brings a comforting hand to his shoulder, and Trucy holds on to his arm. Ema asks more questions to the doctor, but Apollo isn’t paying attention. His recovery looks good.
Trucy beats everybody to the main question. “When can we see him?” The physician looks down at her clipboard, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Well, he is recovering from the anesthesia, so he’ll most likely be closely watched for a couple of hours longer. If you’d like to eat in our cafeteria, go grab necessities, or speak to our staff about visitor hours, now would be the time. Once he’s mostly regained consciousness, we can organize any overnight stays. I’m assuming you all are family?”
Wright, Trucy, Apollo, and Ema all share a look before agreeing in unison. “Yes.”
Doctor Reyes smiles warmly at this. “How lucky Mr. Gavin is.” She gestures to the hallway, continuing, “Please, if you wish, our lovely desk staff can help you with any more questions you have. I wish your loved one a smooth recovery. Thank you!” She steps away with a small nod before briskly walking down the hallway.
Apollo swallows. Klavier’s okay. He’s going to be okay. Oh, how Apollo already missed the rockstar’s smile.
Ema nudges Apollo with her elbow, nodding her head down the corridor. “Looks like Mr. Edgeworth is already back! Let’s go eat, guys. We need to kill time before we get to see the fop anyway.” Trucy laughs.
“I feel like it’s rude to insult him while he’s not awake,” the magician teases.
Ema steps toward the cafeteria, shrugging. “It’s not an insult if it’s the truth. I don’t care about him that much anyway,” she argues while picking at her jacket. Apollo smiles at this. This is one of the few times when he’s pleased to feel that tug from his bracelet.
♤♤♤
Klavier’s recovery was going steadily, and yet it still wasn’t nearly fast enough for Apollo. When they first visited him five hours later after eating, it was strange to see him so beautiful with his hair down and his peaceful countenance, even while he was surrounded by machines and tubes. Over several days, everyone took separate turns in their visits, each no longer than several hours, but it was silently agreed Apollo would stay the night. And Apollo wanted to. The procescutor had been waking in short bouts throughout the last three days, mainly slugglisly opening his eyes only for them to flutter closed again. There was only one instance where Klavier really spoke, to his nurse in the early morning of the third day.
“Good morning, Mr. Gavin,” a nurse politely greets as she fluffs his pillow and checks his IV. Klavier’s eyes blink open before he smiles sadly.
“I’ll never escape that name, will I?” He whispers brokenly.
Apollo, who’d been living in the visitor chair for the past night, and the nurse share a look.
By the time the nurse opened her mouth to respond, he had already drifted to sleep again.
It’s the fourth morning where Apollo wakes to Klavier softly singing, his unused voice cracking with gentle lyrics that he recognizes. Lyrics he didn’t expect to hear again. He drearily blinks, almost hypnotized into sleep again by Klavier’s voice.
♪
“Burn my love away, all away.
Like a bullet of love. Fire.”
♪
“That’s not funny, Klav,” Apollo grumbles into the bed, his neck aching badly from the awkward position of leaning next to Klavier from the cushioned chair. More than three full days of waiting, and he’s already baffling the attorney with his absurdity. “You did get shot by a bullet.”
The rockstar lets out a heavy wheezy laugh, which shakes Apollo. Klavier’s moving. Klavier’s alive.
“I sing of a bullet of love. Forgive me if I choose to be a little optimistic, Forehead,” he teases breathfully.
“You scared me,” Apollo confesses by mistake, ignoring the tease. His head is still hidden from Klavier’s view, but it can’t hide the emotion in his voice. “I thought that…” He trails off, swallowing. A hand brushes through Apollo’s hair.
“I am sorry for scaring you,” Klavier begins simply, “But I won’t apologize for moving you out of the way—for protecting you. I’ll never apologize for that, Apollo.” A serious tone lines his voice again, just like it did before Liyar showed up.
Apollo sits up, the crick in his back protesting yet unimportant all the same. He tries not to remember the look of a tube that had disappeared underneath the bedsheets—they’d removed his chest tube the day before. He stares at Klavier’s hand in his lap instead. “I didn’t ask you to take that bullet for me. I don’t expect that from you, Klavier. I can’t expect you to give your life for me.”
“You can’t expect me to watch you be taken away either.”
Apollo shifts his eyes to meet Klavier’s gaze. His blond hair is still perfectly combed, falling tamely at his shoulders. He looks beautiful. “I—”
“I can’t lose someone else, Apollo. Not again. Not you.” Klavier’s expression is rock-solid. No sign of humor or doubt. He moves his hands to take Apollo’s and squeezes them. “Kristoph. Daryan. I’ve been betrayed and manipulated. A puppet and an accomplice. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in life,” He says, shaking his head, “And yet, you’ve been steady. An anchor for me to hold onto. I know you’ve hurt too, Apollo. But you’ve remained good. I can’t help but admire you. I can’t help but…” Klavier leaves the sentence unfinished, his face turning slightly contrite.
Apollo can’t help the tears that well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He moves his hands away from Klavier’s warm hold and wipes at his face with his day-old sweater. “I’m sorry, Klavier. You didn’t deserve any of that… deserve this… deserve me…”
His hands now empty, Klavier moves one to cup Apollo’s face softly. He tilts his head down and meets the attorney’s eye level. “C’mon, Forehead. I think we’ve had enough bad in our lives, ja?” he speaks gently, wiping away a lone tear on Apollo’s cheek, “It’s time we accept more good.”
Apollo stares at Klavier and just studies him for a moment—the sharp turn of his eyebrows, his passionate blue eyes, the strong ridge to his nose, the soft smile of his…
Apollo pauses, gulping. “Like what?” He asks, his eyes unmoving from the sight of Klavier’s mouth.
Klavier smiles, the white of his teeth—because of course, a hospital visit isn’t enough to change that—sparkling with life. Klavier’s okay. “Why don’t you tell me, Forehead?” He teases, a flirtatious undertone obvious in his voice. Apollo rolls his eyes, but his mind is set on a singular goal in that moment. After all, the rockstar was right—he does need to start adding more happiness into his life. Apollo shifts closer, his hand sliding up Klavier’s abdomen.
He moves closer and closer. Apollo can already name one thing he’d love to do. Just when he’s inches away from paradise—
A hiss escapes Klavier’s mouth, and Apollo recoils instantly, frantic as he checks for danger and what could’ve possibly gone wrong. His face reddens when he realizes what happened: Apollo, trying to act smooth, squeezed his free hand over Klavier’s chest—yep, right over his wound. He can’t do anything right anymore, can he? He’s so caught up in his embarrassment that he doesn’t catch Klavier’s wheezy laughter.
Apollo flounders, apologizing profusely, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—I completely forgot about that, shit, do I need to call a nurse-?” He hovers over Klavier, now on his feet and trying to adjust the man’s pillow, because what the hell else is he supposed to do? “-God, I’m so embarrassing, just forget about it, I’m so sorr—Mffph!”
Klavier pulls Apollo in by his hand and kisses him—ignoring the awkward positioning and the discomfort he has to be feeling at the angle. But when the blond moves his mouth against Apollo’s so sweetly, pleasant honey fills the attorney’s mind, and instinct takes over. He moves his hands to cup Klavier’s face, careful not to have a repeat of his last attempt.
It’s soft, sybaritic, slow. Apollo will definitely admit he’s gone through this scenario a million times in his mind, each different with their energy. Sometimes, it was fleeting. Sometimes, it was desperate. But this… there was no rush nor no overwhelming thirst. They’d spent years dancing around each other, years of memories forgotten, memories that wouldn’t allow themselves to be forgotten. And now, they were simply enjoying the feeling of having one another close and remembering that it was real.
What was most likely a handful of seconds later, but felt like an eternity to Apollo, they finally broke away.
“I—Wow,” Apollo says dumbly. Klavier beams. “We needed to do that years ago.”
“Nein,” Klavier protests gently, “I think all those years were so we could do this now. Though, I’ll be sure to work hard to catch up, ja?” Klavier shyly smiles, tracing his hand along Apollo’s arm. Apollo can get used to that.
A knock sounds at the doorway, and the duo looks over to find their friends (or family, according to the hospital records now) standing. For a moment, Apollo’s embarrassed they caught them kissing, but it’s disproved when Trucy bounces over energetically—and too little for if she had seen the intimate moment earlier.
“Prosecutor Gavin! You’re awake!” She hops up excitedly by the hospital bed. “How are you feeling? I bought you flowers, but I accidentally turned them to doves. The hospital wouldn’t let me bring in the doves to make up for it.” She frowns, tugging at her cape.
Edgeworth walks forward, hand in hand with Wright. “Hello Gavin,” he greets with a nod, Klavier nodding back,“I’m pleased to see you’re doing well. We did in fact buy flowers, but the Wrights-”—he gives a stern glance to Phoenix—”-got to them before you could.” His partner gasps, placing an offended palm against his chest.
“Uh, how was it my fault?! Is it a crime to encourage your daughter’s passion for magic?”
Edgeworth grumbles, “It’s a matter of being impolite.”
“We did try to gift him the doves! Me and Daddy spent all that time trying to get them back in the bag,” Trucy chimes in. Edgeworth’s frown only deepens at that.
Klavier laughs breathlessly, careful not to strain his chest too much. “Danke, Fräulein Wright. I appreciate the gesture. I’m sure a lovely flock of doves would’ve been the perfect addition to my apartment.” Trucy’s eyes sparkle.
“Careful with your words. She’ll really try do it,” Apollo warns, raising an eyebrow at his sister’s mischievous face.
“We’ll keep it as a birthday surprise for now.” Ema enters the room, holding a bag of Snackroos and a card. “Hey fop. Don’t think too much about it.” Rolling her eyes, she moves around the group and tosses the gifts into the blond’s lap.
Klavier browses through the Get-Well card, except it’s pink and has “It’s a Baby Girl!” written across the front. He blinks, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again.
Ema moves her hair out of her face, visibly sheepish. She mutters, “It was all that was left on the shelf. It’s flu season, you know.” Klavier smirks at this.
“It’s the thought that counts, ja?” He teases. Opening it, Klavier is surprised to see actual messages written inside—tiny notes from each of his coworkers. Notable messages like an elegant “Get Back to Work, Fool” (from Von Karma), a simple “Be Well, Gavin-Dono” (from Blackquill), an enthusiastic “Heal up!” (from Cykes), and even a shaky “Congrats on the baby?” (signed by Payne, who apparently didn’t get the memo). The prosecutor goes silent for a moment, quietly reading through the rest of his wishes—flashes of past blank birthday cards and a familiar empty smile fading into oblivion. Nothing is thought of his silence for a moment until tears begin welling up in the blond’s eyes.
“W-what’s wrong?” Apollo rushes out, everybody else sharing worried looks. Klavier laughs.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He reassures, face lighter than it’s looked in years. He tilts his head back, letting out loud chuckles amidst his tears. “I am on so many drugs right now.”
Phoenix snorts. “Yep. I know the feeling, kid.”
Trucy laughs at that, bumping into her father’s side. Ema has the decency to look confused, and Edgeworth exasperatedly rubs the ridge between his eyes. Apollo feels fingers lace into his own and looks at Klavier. Believe it or not, the attorney’s heart rate doesn’t speed up. A wash of ease settles into his shoulders, and despite life and its trials, Apollo understands he’s probably more than a little in love with Klavier Gavin. The part-time rockstar, full-time prosecutor, all-time passionate imperfect man is looking back. He smiles in that all-knowing way.
“I never did thank you for that Danish, did I, Forehead?”
♤♤♤