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Klavier Gavin's earliest memory is from Kristoph's thirteenth birthday. He remembers confetti and smiles - balloons and cupcakes - presents and laughs - and best of all, Kristoph's warm arms as he hugs Klavier at the end of the day, after the festivities have calmed down.
"You're ser-teen years old?"
"That's correct."
"You're more busy now?"
"I suppose."
He remembers frowns and sorrow - rubbing and fidgeting - uncomfort and confusion.
"Are you going to leave me?"
And Kristoph smirks at him and ruffles his hair and laughs and says, "I will never leave you, Klavier, not in a thousand years."
Years pass, and Kristoph studies more and more. But he always finds time for Klavier. Always finds time for them to laugh and play games and squabble and for Kristoph to ruffle Klavier's hair and give that lopsided smile that lets Klavier know yes, I am special, my brother loves me, I love him too.
And in his graduation from law school, Klavier does not frown.
He remembers joy and respect - admiration and awe - he remembers Klavier's glasses being raised just slightly as he took the stage with that little quirk in his lips as he spotted Klavier.
"You came."
"Of course I came. You dork,"
Klavier remembers chuckles and ruffles - flowers and hugs - fleeting jokes and the pure joy in Kristoph's eyes that makes something warm bloom in Klavier's chest.
Kristoph is packing for his apartment when he notices Klavier strumming on an old violin. He remembers gasps and embarrasment - faraway strums and Kristoph's footsteps - ruffles and such undeniable love.
"Is that a violin?"
"Uhm. Yeah. It was in the attic."
Yet another hair ruffle. Kristoph's hands are calloused, but they are so soft as they weave through Klavier's bangs.
"You sounded nice."
"O- Oh. Thanks, Bruder."
"Well, I have to get going. Keep practicing, ja? I know you'll get better. You always do."
Kristoph goes to Klavier's first concerts. He remembers stage lights and cue reminders - nervousness and butterflies - strumming and nail bites - he remembers Kristoph's face and that lopsided smile and that flushed face and how everything seemed to get better.
Klavier goes to Kristoph's first trials. He remembers gavel hammering and desk slams - 'Objection's and 'Hold it's - fidgeting witnesses and a nodding judge - he remembers the prosecution shaking their head and a 'Not Guilty' and that self-assured smile and Gott, when did his brother become so admirable?
All his life, he knows.
Always.
Zak Gramarye.
The name flits around Klavier's mind once, twice. Kristoph's hands are shaking as he tells him about that notebook page.
He remembers snaps and annoyance - surprise and apologetic smiles - Kristoph's calloused hands and that notebook page - worry. Worry.
And no hair ruffle.
…
Was this truly okay?
…
He looks at his hands and he remembers just one thing. He remembers cupcakes and video game controllers and an old violin gathering dust in his storage. He remembers clapping until his hands stung, he remembers Kristoph doing the same.
He remembers, as blindly blatant as every other memory, Phoenix's eyes widening as he realized what he had accidentally done. And, he remembers a sick sort of satisfaction at that. Not because of Herr Wright getting what he deserved, but because he had done what Kristoph had wanted from him.
Kristoph was going to like this.
A few years pass, and he remembers a distinct hairstyle, brown and rabbit-like, passing occasionally when he visited his brother. He remembers seeing Herr Wright from the corner of his eye, so defeated, and he feels a twisted coil of nothing. He ignores him.
He remembers trial records - Kristoph taking the stand, arms crossed - That brown-haired man pointing and Herr Wright filled with passion - he remembers his brother being taken away by baliffs, and he feels cold.
"That can't be right."
"Don't worry, Klavier. I got what I deserved."
"Bruder, you can't be serious-"
He remembers faraway smirks and piercing glares - arms crossed and a blocked off figure - nail polish and airy dialogue.
He remembers an unclaimed seat in the audience he can't unsee.
He remembers the defense's stand never feeling quite as empty.
He remembers -
He remembers clutching his head, right where Kristoph used to ruffle, when Daryan admits to the murder. He remembers darkness and late nights - silent sobs and a tight grip around his Gavinner's necklace - imaginary comfort and a calloused hand - and he remembers silence.
…
He remembers fighting back such desperate tears as he points at Kristoph.
He remembers looking anywhere but his brother's eyes. He doesn't want to seem weak, even now.
He remembers -
He remembers cupcakes and video game controllers and an old violin and graduation caps and flowers and Kristoph's lopsided smile and his calloused hands and his laugh and his comfort and the notebook page and the way Herr Wright's face fell and the way Kristoph congratulated him and the way he knew that Kristoph had meant every last word.
Where did it all go wrong?
He remembers…
He remembers…
He remembers nothing inside of him. A pit where Kristoph used to be. A pit that he used to be able to turn to no matter what. A pit that doesn't even give him enough energy to cry. A pit that Herr Forehead keeps trying to reach toward because he cares, and Kristoph cared, and how did that end?
When will this end?
When will the smiles and the chuckles and the dry humour and the reaching out and the invitations end? When will he turn and tilt his head and go cold and taunt?
When?
When?
Gott, just let it happen. He wants this to end but at the same time, in some cold, twisted way, he does not.
End. Please. Show me you aren't this kind. Show me. I can't take this. Why can't you just skip to the end? Why make me respect you? Why make me laugh at your jokes? Why make me fall in love? Are you so cruel that this is all too make it worse when it all ends?
There has to be a catch.
He remembers soft hands and a soft hug and a soft smile and a soft laugh and soft lips and he remembers, so quietly it is more like a thought - I will never leave you, Klavier, not in a million years.
He remembers pushing - he remembers Apollo's wide eyes and a hurried apology - he remembers everything growing too claustrophobic - he remembers I will never leave you, I will never leave you, WHY DID YOU LIE?
Why is he lying?
Why…
He remembers tears. Familiar. He remembers the thorns around the pit in his gut being washed off by Apollo's warm arms.
He remembers everything getting just a bit better.