Chapter Text
Klavier Gavin woke up slowly at 7:23 am on a Saturday morning, in the middle of his two weeks off from work and he knew he couldn’t face another day of being cooped up in his apartment.
He sat up, listening to the same old noises- his elderly neighbour upstairs thudding around like he had cinderblocks tied to his feet, the birds singing outside his window. It’s utterly domestic, a slice of his life and it’s driving him insane. He smoothed a hand over his face, and exhaled heavily. He was tired, all the way to his heavy bones and he greeted the day without a smile.
It was all nothing new. All of his days were merging together into one, into a dull cycle of sleeping and watching TV, waiting until he was allowed back in the office. He hadn’t expected a day when he would be escorted off premises if he turned up to work anyway. He hadn’t wanted the time off. It kept him busy and most importantly distracted but the Chief Prosecutor himself had come to him personally- and no one refused Edgeworth.
Klavier had laughed him off at first, assuming some kind of early April Fools, but he had never known Edgeworth to be one for jokes, and his expression was deadly serious. They argued bitterly after that for a long while, until Edgeworth ended it with a forceful you will take this time off. You will recover, and you will come back to us rested. There will be no use for you if you run yourself in to the ground.
Klavier had been stung by the hypocrisy. He may have left the office late most nights, but so did Edgeworth- more often than not, they walked together in a companionable silence. He knew how stupid it would have been but Klavier wanted to rage, who do you think you are, how dare you?
What do you know of betrayal, Klavier almost asked him, but then he thought of Phoenix Wright and a bullet kept secret for fifteen years.
Klavier had pictures of friends framed on the walls, set on his desk. The one that held the picture of his brother with Vongole had been turned face down, set in one corner of the room as far away as possible. Klavier hadn’t the heart to throw it out, even months after State v Misham. Edgeworth had no pictures in his office at all.
He had willingly left after that, twisted up inside with guilt. It still lingered alongside the anger, and it had been left to simmer. Klavier had nothing to do, and plenty of time to do it in. He was completely alone in his silent fury, and that was how he wanted it.
He got up and dressed himself, a vague plan for his day coming together in his mind as he put on his usual mask- the stylish clothes, the attention stealing chains, the plastic smile. He did his best to disguise every imperfection, although he could do nothing about the deep shadows under his eyes and the downturn of his lips. He supposed it didn’t matter. No one would be around to ask.
The sun came up as he sat in his kitchen, watching his TV with disinterested eyes. There was very little on that interested him, especially at this time in the morning. He could only manage a small breakfast again, baby bites of half a ham sandwich as he listened to the TV in a daze. It was the news report. He didn’t watch much else anymore- nothing can keep his attention for long enough. His productivity was at an all-time low, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to write music, his usual comfort. His guitars had gathered a layer of dust, and he hadn’t stepped inside his personal recording booth in months.
He zoned in and out for the next half an hour, hearing something about the opening of a new hospital clinic and then disappearing into his own daydream, before re-emerging to find the reporter asking a series of strange questions that finally caught his attention, something about procedures, morals- Doctor, have you considered the moral stance of these procedures? How can you do such a thing when memories are what makes us who we are? It drew Klavier’s interest, for a few moments at least.
There was a woman on the screen, aged and serious and Klavier knew her. It took him a moment to work through the haze, to place her, and then Klavier put down his sandwich. His stomach was too queasy to continue. On screen the woman, Doctor Munin spoke with a calm voice, her words sure and low. It was a doctor’s voice through and through, the kind that could tell you the worst diagnosis with the steadiest of words. They don’t soothe Klavier in the slightest, and he speed read the text at the bottom of the screen- QUESTIONS REGARDING MUNIN MEMORY CLINIC.
“I have considered this for some time,” She said. “Don’t think I take this lightly. I understand the worries that have come from such a development, but I have been doing this procedures for many years now, in practise and professionalism and I have had no complaints, and such a belief in the importance of memory is purely relativistic. My work is not for everyone, but I provide it for those who deem it necessary.”
The reporter listened respectfully, waiting until she was done, but the way her lips pursed would be obvious to the legally blind. Klavier watched as she leapt. Her voice was firm. “But there are those who say that if we erase our memories, we erase ourselves. Don’t you think that’s true?”
The doctor arched her silvery, well plucked brows. She smiled with tight lips. “I don’t.”
The reporter clearly wasn’t expecting such a blunt response- blustering, she spluttered. “But-“
Klavier turned off the TV before he could hear her argument or the doctor’s response. The sickness had only intensified, and he pushed the plate away. He shouldn’t have bothered with it.
It was a brave new world they lived in, he thought, one he wondered if he wanted to be part of. He could understand development, a change for good, but perhaps the good Fraulien Doctor was taking it too far. He couldn’t imagine ever doing such a thing- having his memories taken away for a fee. He couldn’t comprehend why anyone would, what could have been so bad they would have a part of their life taken away permanently. He had things he would rather have not experienced, lessons he wished he hadn’t learnt so harshly but those experiences made Klavier who he was. He wasn’t ashamed of that.
He thought of having Kristoph removed, the prospect of being the sole Gavin son- and he shook his head, chasing the thoughts away. Never, in a million torturous years, but he laughed at himself. I’m not ashamed, he said while hiding away in his apartment like his pain was a dirty little secret.
He scraped his sandwich away and washed up the plate without another thought. He would go to the coastline, he thought. It was where he always went when life was rough, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. He had very few opportunities to go with a schedule like his, but his work burden was nonexistence. Now was the time, if ever. He remembered going to the beach alone when his vader died, complaining until the Gavviners tour bus driver would make a stop at the nearest coastline when he fought with his mother about his career choices. The peace of the water was special to him- the way the sand felt so soft underneath his bare feet, the gentle rush of waves. The other members of his band hadn’t quite understood, but Daryan had kept them distracted and away as Klavier dipped his toes in the water, letting it part around his feet. Klavier had appreciated it, especially when Daryan thought he had been cheered enough and shoved their annoying, hungover drummer into the water. He had laughed almost until he cried, and then Daryan had turned up to be different that Klavier thought. He supposed even retrospect didn’t make those memories bad, but it cast them in another light, gave him a sour taste on his tongue.
He wanted the waves again. He wanted that moment of quiet. He would never reach the level of isolation in California than he did in Germany, with almost every beach crowded with gossiping people who would likely recognise him in a heartbeat- but after a life of fame, Klavier knew how to avoid the crowds. He knew a little place, a little further from reach where few ever went. It was too rocky for children, too unsafe for families on holiday but as long as Klavier was alone by the seaside surrounded by the noises of nature it was perfect.
He would be fine. Even if it took a long time, he would be fine.
He shrugged on his jacket, patting his pockets to check for his keys and wallet, and before he knew it he was out on the road on his hog, flying past the cars at a speed just a little over the limit.
There was something missing.
He just didn’t know it yet.
-
The office of the Wright Anything Agency was too loud, too crowded, and Apollo slipped away without a word when he thought no one was looking. They all saw, all noted his absence almost immediately, but none of them said a word. They all knew he needed the time to himself.
The city was still brimming with smiling people. Cars still went by, blaring music sometimes with their roofs down. There were still children laughing and clinging to their parent’s hands. The world was still spinning on, but Apollo felt like it was being yanked out from underneath his feet.
Everything he saw reminded him of Clay.
At night when he couldn’t sleep, he would shift to one side, staring out the window and he would see the stars high above. It had always made him think of Clay, but it once made him excited, filled with hope and joy that his best friend was on the path to achieving his dream, doing what he wanted to do-
And now, he was gone and Apollo couldn’t feel anything.
The others at the Agency didn’t understand. He wasn’t idiotic enough to think they didn’t understand loss, they knew it all too well, but they didn’t understand that it was something he had to do for himself. He had found Clay’s killer, and thought it would help. It did to an extent, but it hadn’t filled the gaping hole. It only felt like it had been ripped wider, a pitch black void. In an attempt to justify his leaving, he had brought a suitcase filled with some paperwork he had been putting off. He didn’t think he was going to get it done.
The healing burns on his arms itched beneath their bandages, and he willed the sensation away. He had been told not to rub at them, so he crossed his arms and distracted himself by gathering a pinch of the skin of his mouth with his teeth and sinking in. It hurt, but it made the itching sensation go away.
Apollo looked to the station’s time table. He had already bought his ticket for the day, and his train would come in ten minutes. It wouldn’t take him far, but it wasn’t about the distance. It was about the destination.
He remembered when he and Clay were kids, when sometimes his guardians at the orphanage would let him be taken out by Clay’s father for the day. Those were some of the best days of his life, especially the hot summer days when they would be unleashed on the outdoors rather than trapped indoors. Clay’s father was still deeply in mourning after his wife’s passing as was Clay, but he could always spare a smile for the kids no matter how hard it got. He would always make Apollo feel welcome, like he was part of the family and take them to the park, the zoo, anywhere the adults at the orphanage rarely took Apollo.
But Apollo’s favourite place was the beach.
Clay’s father would linger behind, leaning over the metal fence and calling warnings to them below not to go too far even as they ran full pelt towards the waves. Their feet would slip over seaweed and the shells would sometimes cut into their feet, but they never complained. They would splash in the waves even though they were never brave enough to swim and build sandcastles. Apollo would collect the prettiest shells he could find for his few friends back in the orphanage while Clay would deep as deeply as he could before he got bored. They would spend the entire day there.
Clay’s father would sometimes build with them but he mostly lay back and rest, with one eye on the mischievous boys. Impressively they never got into too much trouble, and he always rewarded them with ice cream that melted too quickly and dripped all over their hands, leaving the skin sticky. The days would always end too quickly for Apollo’s liking, though. He had a strict curfew of six thirty, and when the sun dropped in the sky and heat slipped away Clay’s father would drive him back, and although Clay would always protest through yawns by the time Apollo was dropped off they would both be exhausted, almost dead on their feet.
Apollo had spoken to Clay’s father on the phone one past his death. He had yet to meet with him in person. Neither of them had adjusted enough to spend a meeting staring into each other’s faces, not seeing the best friend of their son, or the father of their best friend- only Clay. Neither could yet face an afternoon of talking about the dearly departed, not yet.
The train had five more minutes to go. It would take him to the beach, the same one he had always visited, but he knew there was a part of it where not many families went. Hopefully it would bring him some form of peace, no matter how temporary. Apollo knew it wouldn’t be the same, but he had to go back there. One more time, at least, to see if it quelled the pain or anger.
He didn’t have high hopes.
The minutes went by unbearably slow, but finally the train pulled in and he claimed a seat by the window, one that had a table. The only few other people boarding it with him stepped into different carriages, and he appreciated the silence. As the train set off, he gazed out at the city and watched other people go about their business. It was only early in the morning, and people were travelling around for work. He hadn’t lasted long in the Agency.
Eventually, the sight of whatever passed by bored him. There was a paper lying on the table in front of him, neatly folded, and he had many stops to go. He picked it up and flipped through it, with no interest. He didn’t care for housing, job posts or sports and almost went straight through to the comics even if they didn’t make him smile the way he used to.
A huge two paper spread caught his attention, and his paused, halfway through thumbing through the pages. He tilted it back, and there was a picture of a huge, sleek white building that just screamed clinic- he could already smell the medicine and latex- with a tall, intimidating looking woman in a doctor’s coat standing outside. She wasn’t smiling, and looked like the kind of person who never did.
MUNIN’S MEMORY MIRACLE CLINIC, the headline screamed in bold letters. Apollo arched an eyebrow, and smoothed the pages out against the table. He had heard of it. There were few who hadn’t. There were adverts on the television, billboards, and a ridiculous amount of public outcry. Apollo remembered that the place had been picketed and there were countless attempted break-ins and sabotage. He didn’t think he would ever be seeing something displayed so brazenly, but here they were and here the Munin Clinic was.
He read it as the train thundered on.
MUNIN’S MEMORY MIRACLE CLINIC
By Lotta Hart
The first memory erasure clinic stands in California quite boldly, and if Doctor Losa Munin’s plans are achieved there will be another on the East Coast by the year’s end. The first clinic, run by Munin herself and a dedicated hardworking team whose names have not been released after the reaction of the public upon it’s opening, for fears for their safety, work each day to remove the memory of those who require their services.
Despite many organizations who stand against Munin’s company, there is little information that can be found and entry is denied unless you have proof of an appointment. The secrecy have set some on edge, but a source from inside is adamant that it is for good reason. For reasons set by the clinic, we cannot reveal the insider’s name, but they tell us that “We only do it for the good of the people who come to us. We don’t want their business sprayed over the Internet for all to find. It’s on a strictly need to know basis, and if anyone is considering having their memories removed I can assure you none of this information will be told to anyone you don’t want to know about it.”
“We allow people to move on,” Munin had previously said in a statement to journalists who attempted to follow her home. “We take the things people want to forget and let them live on, without fear or upset. I think we’re doing some good, and those who stand against us have moral basis that they shouldn’t be forcing onto anyone else.”
The article went on, detailing the privacy rules, Munin’s history and the many strikes against the company, but Apollo skipped over the paragraphs lifelessly and then went to the comics. He didn’t smile.
He put the paper to one side, bored, and stared back out of the window. The scenery went past too quickly to take it all in, a blur of grey and green.
The clinic lingered in his thoughts. It amazed him really, even if he didn’t know the details of the process. He didn’t know how memory erasure, or memory extraction worked. He wondered if it was reversible. Probably not.
It didn’t bear thinking about, all the people who had a little or large section of their life missing, and people who came home to their loved ones to find they chose to have them taken away.
Apollo sighed.
There was something missing.
He just didn’t know it yet.
-
The beach is almost completely empty. Klavier can feel the little satisfied curl on the end of his lips as he parked his motorcycle, swinging his leg off. The sun was shy, ducking between thick clouds now and again but the day was still promising, and Klavier knew all the families were miles down the stretch, appreciating their happiness.
There’s one lone figure far down the end of the concrete path, standing still and leaning over the fence, but it meant little to Klavier. If they stayed away from him, he would stay away from them. He wasn’t in the mood for company.
It was therefore safe to leave his bike behind for the moment, and he took the steps down to the sand almost jauntily. He kicked off his shoes and rolled off his socks, and the first touch of sand against his soles made him sigh. It was the closes to contentment he had been for a long time. He took of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to feel the sunshine on his skin, and listened to the sound of gulls and crashing water. The tide was out, and there was a long stretch of damp, tightly packed sand.
He walked all the way down, and with each step he took he felt more at peace. The wind ruffled through his hair, no longer as irritating when it used to be, back when he wore it long. He walked over sand and stone, pulling a face when his feet brushed slick seaweed. Klavier’s feet padded against the wet sand and he stopped just short of the water, wiggling his toes into it.
It made him feel a little younger again, like he would turn around and see Daryan watching him from the concrete. It made him feel like he was back in better times.
He wasn’t, but the stress was melting away bit by bit, and he could think about work and everything nasty when he returned to his apartment. Now was his time to relax and forget it all.
He settled down with an exhale, sitting and watching the water rush towards him, slowing and stopping a few feet away before receding. The ritual was soothing. He had been absent for so long, caught up in the drama of his brother’s crimes and daily battles in the courtroom and the offices with few friends to meet up with, no one to talk with personally, outside of work.
Klavier wished he had someone like that. He didn’t quite understand what it was with prosecutors and solitude- he didn’t think Edgeworth had anyone either. Someone who knew what he was going through, someone who knew loss the way he did. It wasn’t easy to find someone with shared life experiences.
He sat there for a long time. He didn’t know how long for, letting himself be drawn in by the soft sounds but the sun shifted in the sky and the tide was creeping closer, coming back in. The water was warm against his toes, and he got up before it could soak his clothes.
He turned, ready to walk a little further up the beach and maybe lay back, take in the sun for a little longer when he saw the figure, much closer than before. Klavier could see now it was a man, walking slowly up the path approaching his motorcycle. He held a briefcase in one hand, papers in the other and Klavier frowned. What kind of person brought work to a beach?
He watched him go. The stranger was reading while he walked and he was too far away to see his expression- but he could hear the man shout out in surprise when the wind picked up, and forced the papers out of his hand. They fluttered free and Klavier watched with faint amusement as he dropped his case and grabbed for the ones in the air, just escaping his reaching fingers.
“Fuck,” He heard the man say as they fell over the fence, flying across the ground in the wind. Ready to help Klavier stepped forward quickly before they could escape. The papers whispered to the sand, and Klavier swept them up one by one. He held them to his chest, and he looked up and he could see the stranger smiling a little at him, looking relieved.
Three things hit him in quick succession- firstly, the man was oddly adorable. He was short, with a baby face and considering the briefcase he was likely much older than he looked, or at least pretending to be. It led to the second thing that hit him- he had a sweet smile, no matter how small it was. He looked shy, almost abashed, but he was probably just embarrassed about the papers. The third was his suit, a bright red and a touch too big around the shoulders- he was someone important, and he seemed to be skipping work.
A quick glance down at the paper while the man called out a thank you confirmed it. The papers were immediately familiar to him- the man was a lawyer. They didn’t contain sensitive information, and he couldn’t tell if he was a defence or a prosecutor. The man was a complete stranger, though- he had never seen him around his offices. He had to work elsewhere. Klavier wondered what the chances were.
He looked back up. “You’re welcome.” He jogged back up the stairs to the path, and walked up to the stranger. Face to face, he was even cuter with brown eyes and dimples. “You should be a little more careful.”
Klavier expected him to duck his head and flush, as usually someone so young with such a smile would do. He didn’t. The eyes hardened like polished stone, but his expression remained open. The man could act, but the talent didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll try to control the wind next time,” He said, dryly, and Klavier let out a small laugh.
“See to it that you do,” He told him. “I might not be around to save you next time.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up, and Klavier could tell he was thinking the same thing. Might? He cursed himself inwardly. He hadn’t even meant to flirt. It had just become so engrained in him, such a large part of his default personality it just slipped out.
“Right,” The man said slowly. He looked torn between confusion and amusement. “Thank you again. Have a good day.” He was still holding firmly onto the papers as he stepped around Klavier, brushing past just an inch. His fingers were creasing around the paper, and the grip on his briefcase was tight.
“You’re a lawyer,” Klavier said quickly, before he could get too far. He had no idea why. He should have just let him go- but he didn’t want to. He watched as the man suddenly stopped, looking back with a frown. “I saw your papers.”
The man drew them closer, as if worried he might snatch for them. The idea was ridiculous, and Klavier tried not to be too judgmental. “Right?”
“I’m one too,” He explained, and the man’s wary eyes softened a little in understanding. “I’m a prosecutor.”
The man’s smile had since died, but he did again, a little wider. This time it didn’t look so charming. It felt forced. “You might not want to talk to me,” He sounded amused, but wry and not genuine. “I’m a defence attorney.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a moment. It lingered long enough to become awkward. Klavier tried to break the tension with a joke. “Seems I’m fraternizing with the enemy, then.”
“Something like that.” He crossed his arms against his chest, planting his feet firmly against the floor. It was a brave stance for someone so short. He looked almost like he should still be in school. “My employer said I should never talk to the mean old prosecutors,” He said, appearing only half joking.
“Ja, we do have a habit of teasing our court rivals,” Klavier hummed. He had no such court rival- he was the only prosecutor in the office who got along fairly well with most of the defence attorneys, and by that he meant he didn’t glare daggers at any of them when they met. Maybe if they met again this man could be his. It was almost exciting.
There was silence for a beat.
The stranger then pulled a face, nose wrinkling for a split second, and he waved his arm to gesture at the empty stretch of beach around them. There wasn’t a single soul, only a boat that was a speck in the distance. Klavier’s motorcycle was the only vehicle around. “I’m sorry, I-I wanted to be alone. I’m dealing with,” He paused, for a long while, and shifted where he stood. “Some things.”
Guilt bubbled up inside- he had been bothering him, he wanted to be alone and here he was nattering away- but there was disappointment alongside it, overpowering it. He had wanted to be alone too, left to deal with things in his own way but not anymore. He wanted to know his name. He didn’t want him to go.
Maybe he could do something with that.
“I wanted to be alone too,” Klavier admitted. “But maybe I can help with what’s bothering you.” And maybe you could help me. He felt like an idiot, bothering a stranger, but he wasn’t going to ask anyone he knew for help. The shame of that would follow him for the rest of his life, like his brother’s shadow.
The man shrugged his shoulders, lifelessly. Klavier knew he was probably just annoying him more. “I don’t know. I lost someone. If we go back far enough, I lost people. Pretty special circumstances.”
“I’ve lost people,” Klavier told him. “Talking with people who have shared life experiences helps. Apparently. I can’t say I know many people with my problems.”
The man shifted where he stood, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know…”
“I won’t force you. I’d just like to know you’re okay. You don’t look well.”
He looked away for the moment, ducking his head, and Klavier could hear the gears in his head spinning. He was silent for a long moment, looking to the floor, out to the ocean and then Klavier’s feet. Klavier waited patiently- he knew if he pressed him, he would bolt.
He eventually looked back up to him and tilted his head to one side, and squinted his eyes a little as if suspicious before saying, “Have I met you before?”
Klavier frowned, confused. He didn’t recall ever meeting him before this day. “Hm?”
“I feel like we’ve met before- or seen each other at least.” The man was still peering at him, directly at his face. Klavier had that uncomfortable, creeping crawling feeling of being surveyed. “I’m Apollo- Have you ever been into the Wright Law- sorry, the Wright Anything Agency?”
“No,” He replied honestly. It would have taken a special circumstance indeed for him to step inside the offices of the man whose life he had torn apart, but he- Apollo- didn’t need to know that. He guided the conversation along another path with a smile, leaning forward with his hands on his hips. “With a face as lovely as yours, I’d remember meeting you.”
That caught Apollo off guard- he flushed and dropped his gaze, drawing back. Klavier didn’t blame him- he didn’t often flirt with men ten seconds after learning their name. Apollo stumbled over his words, “Sorry, I just thought I’d seen your face.”
“You probably have,” Klavier shrugged dismissively. “In the papers, perhaps.”
“Your cases get covered widely?”
Klavier hesitated. “Something like that.” He looked to Apollo, and his expression was clear. The man didn’t know him. The arrogant side of him that ruled during his teenage years was insulted- he thought everyone had heard his music, Gavviner’s or solo- but the softer side of him, the quiet said that he rarely showed was glad. He didn’t want Apollo to already know him and judge him preemptively. If they were going to talk, he couldn’t hide this part of him.
Apollo latched on. “Something like that?”
“I’m not just known for my cases,” He said, after a moment. The spot of silence was filled with the shrieking of gulls. “I’m Klavier Gavin. I’m a musician, used to be in a band. It’s only a hobby, but the band- the Gavviners- got big. We’re not together anymore, but…” He had no idea why he was openly telling him in this detail. Judging by Apollo’s look, he wasn’t sure either. He looked almost startled.
“Aren’t you worried I’m going to sell everything you said to the press?”
Klavier was confident he wouldn’t. “They won’t believe you,” He said instead.
Apollo laughed. The sound warmed his heart. “Fair enough. I have no idea who you are anyway. Maybe I’ll google you later, Klavier.” He said the name as if testing it out, letting it fall clumsily from his tongue with pronunciation a little off. It was endearing.
“Maybe you can go on a date with me and find out who I am when all of your friends lose their shit about you stepping out with Klavier Gavin.”
Klavier liked seeing Apollo caught off guard. It was amusing and adorable in equal measure, but he would never tell Apollo that. He would kill him. Apollo was spluttering and he looked surprised- but pleasantly. “I don’t think anyone would believe me.”
It wasn’t a refusal, or a deflection. Chances were good he would say yes, and Klavier didn’t want to let him go just yet. Apollo was clearly settling, less likely to bolt, and Klavier knew that now was the time to press him.
“Shall we find out?”
Apollo pulled a face again, but was no longer squirming. He shot Klavier a dirty look. “Stop flirting with me,” He said, strictly. “I won’t tell you my problems if you’re flirting with me.”
Klavier laughed, and lifted his hands. He showed his palms in supplication. “I’ll stop. Do you want to sit over on the sand?”
Apollo did. He followed Klavier down the stairs grudgingly with slow and heavy footfalls, swinging his briefcase against his leg. They didn’t venture far down, only walking a couple of feet. The water was coming in quickly. Klavier settled down and crossed his legs and waited for Apollo to take the spot next to him. He did so, hesitantly, and dug the heels of his work shoes into the sand. There was a quiet for a while as Apollo avoided Klavier’s eyes, and they listened to the sound of the waves creeping up towards them.
“Apollo’s a bit of a strange name,” Klavier eventually said, and Apollo rolled his eyes.
“I’ve never been told that,” He said, mockingly. “Not once in my entire life. It’s not like Klavier’s a particularly common name.”
“But I’m German,” Klavier pointed out, noting the man had a surprising amount of bite for someone who had seemed so withdrawn. He wondered just how many snarky comments were trapped in that head of his- Apollo had a large forehead, presumably to keep them in. “It doesn’t make sense for you to be called Apollo. I’m going to call you Herr Forehead instead.”
Apollo spluttered, outraged. “Herr Forehead?!”
“You have a big forehead. But it’s okay, you’re still very cute and I’d like to flirt with you still.”
“Call me Herr Forehead again and I definitely won’t be going out with you,” Apollo said darkly.
“Ach,” Klavier leant back, pretending to be stung. He grinned. “That’s a terrible threat, schatzi. You’re cruel.”
Apollo ducked his head towards his knees, but he wasn’t fast enough to hide his own smile. Victorious, Klavier’s own grin widened. He had forgotten how much fun flirting was. He had been caught up in his work for so long he had isolated himself.
“You start,” Apollo mumbled into his knees after a moment of recovery, barely audible, and frankly Klavier wasn’t sure where to begin. It took him a long while to get the words together, and eventually Apollo turned his head and watched him, eyes alight with concern.
“I lost my brother,” Klavier eventually managed. He felt the beginning was always a good place to begin, with no detail given- but added later. “He influenced my life since I was very young, and he turned out to be a murderer.” Apollo sucked in a breath, but let him continue. “Not long after, one of my best friends turned out to be a killer too. I was the prosecutor for that case. I had to listen to his testimony, see him break down- I felt betrayed, you know? He was one of my bandmates and I thought I knew him. Turns out I didn’t.” He took a breath, gazing out at the ocean, and Apollo must have sensed he wasn’t finished- he gave Klavier the moment to breathe without interrupting. “A couple of months after that, if it wasn’t already enough, my brother got called back on stand and found guilty of another murder and it was proved that I massively screwed some innocent guy over a couple of years ago.”
That had probably been the worst part of it. The fact Kristoph was a killer was bad enough, but to find out Kristoph had gotten the forged evidence out of some ridiculous fear that Klavier might best him, that his own brother had used him to tear down Wright’s legacy- that stung. That and his hysterical laughter was what used to keep him up at night. His brother was never kind. Sometimes, when he shouted and grabbed Klavier’s wrists when he stimmed and forced them down to his sides he was cruel, but Klavier never thought he would be a liar and a killer.
Sometimes, he could feel the bruises still lingering from years before.
“That’s kind of shit,” Apollo said, his voice faux light and Klavier huffed out a laugh.
“Understatement of the century.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair. He had it cut the way he had it as a teenager after looking into his mirror and seeing a ghost far too many times, but not long after that he had it styled into a long undercut for a reason he couldn’t quite recall- he assumed it was just a passing whim. He ran his palm along the buzzed part before running his fingers through his hair.
Apollo watched him, smiling a little. “I wasn’t completely convinced you were a lawyer. I don’t know any lawyers with a haircut like yours.”
“I could say the same,” Klavier eyed the man’s antenna. “You should have seen the way I used to have it, though. I looked ridiculous.”
“I’m sure you looked great.” Apollo said quickly, as if hoping he wouldn’t hear, and continued. “Where’s your brother now?”
“Dead,” Klavier told him, and Apollo winced.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” It had been difficult to deal with, all alone with his mother still not on speaking terms with him after everything, but it had been a long time now. The anniversary stung, and with no thought to the state of his voice he had drank himself unconscious on that day, but he hoped the next date would be better. “I wanted to find the man who bested my brother, and take him on myself. But I couldn’t find any information on him. I did some other cases while I looked for him- the one where I found out about my friend, for example- but I never found him. Not even when my brother was pulled out again during the later case.”
Apollo wrapped his arms around his legs, and pressed his face against his knee. “It must have been hard. I was on a trial once where the prosecutor found out his friend was the killer. I can’t even comprehend how terrible it must have been.”
Klavier tilted his head to one side. He wondered how someone had kept that quiet- news spread quickly in the offices, even if the prosecutor worked elsewhere. “Who was he?”
Apollo opened his mouth- and then closed it again. There was a flicker of a frown on his face, a small line appearing in between his eyebrows. “I,” He hesitated, for a long while. The words came out slowly. “I don’t remember. There was someone- but I don’t remember who.”
“Perhaps I will ask when I’m back at work. I’ve been forced to take some leave. I think they’re still worried about me, even though this happened a long time ago.”
Apollo hummed. “It must have been traumatic.”
Klavier paused. “It was.” He huffed out an exhale. Talking about it was bringing all the memories back to the surface, rushing like the blood in his veins. None of it were things he expressively wanted to remember, let alone think about, but he had constantly been told that talking about it would do him some good. Klavier would be the first Gavin to talk about his feelings. Look where keeping silent has gotten everyone else. “But enough about me. What about you, Herr Forehead?”
Apollo pulled a face at the name again, but let it slide.
“I lost my best friend too,” He started, and Klavier could see when the memories came flooding back. His eyes dulled a touch. “By the time I met him I hadn’t been adopted and I still lived in an orphanage. He lost his mom recently, and I didn’t have a mom, so…” He shrugged. He couldn’t quite meet Klavier’s eyes. “He died over half a year ago now, in a horrible way, and I didn’t react well. I’m still not reacting well- I wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“That can still change.”
“Maybe,” He didn’t sound convinced. “But I went too far.”
Klavier hummed, motioning for him to continue. “I got involved in,” Apollo paused for a long moment, and his hand went to his wrist. It was the arm that didn’t have a thick, golden bracelet, and he brushed his fingers along the skin. “An incident. I had to stay in the hospital for a while, and when I came out I wasn’t-” He shook his head, and fell silent.
He was toying with the cuffs at his wrist, toying with them in a way that made Klavier think he was simply nervous- but then he flicked the button undone and pulled back the sleeve, and Klavier could see bandages, wrapped tightly around Apollo’s forearm. Apollo’s pale wrist looked tiny compared to the thick material, and Klavier wondered what it was covering. Whatever it was, it was huge, spreading far up his arms.
“Burns,” Apollo replied to Klavier’s questioning look. “I was caught in an explosion. There are burns all up my arms and some on my shoulders and back. Bye-bye short sleeved shirts.” He rolled his sleeves back down and redid the cuffs with hands that trembled, just a little. “It wasn’t exactly the best thing to happen to me.”
“You can’t say you don’t live an exciting life,” Klavier tried, and Apollo’s laugh was sour.
“Wish my life was a little more normal,” He folded his arms across his stomach, as if to hide them away. He still averted his eyes, and everything about him screamed self-confidence issues. “This was after my friend died, and things kind of went shitty from there. I requested some time off work so I could hunt down his killer myself. It was the world’s most anticlimactic warpath. I found them, eventually, but this point I had already alienated myself. I went back to work and they welcomed me back, but… I’m still not dealing too well with it, and I can’t talk to anyone about it. They don’t get it.”
“Maybe they get it more than you think,” Klavier told him, budging a little closer. Apollo didn’t move away. “You should give them a chance.”
Apollo’s voice was very quiet, barely audible over the waves. The sun had shifted in the sky. Klavier had no idea how long they had been sitting there together. “Maybe. It’s just… I’ve been lied to a lot. Played around. I don’t want that to happen again, you know?”
Klavier knew, all too well. He felt that he and Apollo were more alike than they both knew. “I know,” He said, and they were both quiet for a long moment. Everything had been stretched out between them, laid bare between those who were close to strangers, and Klavier couldn’t help but feel there was more- something else that had gone unsaid.
“We should talk about this all again,” He said, a little louder as to jerk them both out of their melancholy. Apollo finally met his gaze. “At a nice restaurant maybe. Private booth, of course.”
A smile bloomed on Apollo’s face, and he rolled his eyes. “That just sounds like you want to take me out on a date.”
“Ach, I’ve been caught. Am I really that obvious?”
“You’re not as smooth as you think you are.” Apollo settled down, stretching his legs, and ran his fingers through the sand. “It’s almost endearing.”
“I’ll take what I can.” Klavier watched him for a moment, drawing his fingers and smoothing little patterns into the warm, pliable surface. Klavier did the same, grabbing a fistful and letting it fall from his fingers like through a sieve. They sat there, filling the noses with the smell of sea salt and feeling like something had changed.
“Let’s go into the ocean,” Klavier said suddenly with no warning, dropping his fistful of sand and Apollo stared at him. His fingers halted in the midst of making a figure eight. Klavier got up, long legs splaying everywhere, and dusted the sand off of his clothes. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Actually, it won’t.” Apollo protested, staring at him like he had a third eye. “I don’t have a change of clothes. And I have to get the train back.”
“I can take you back on my bike,” Klavier offered, and Apollo recoiled. It was a no if Klavier had ever seen one. “Come on, we can roll up our pants. It’ll be fine.”
Apollo looked hesitant, but he got up very slowly, shorter legs folding beneath him. He patted at his legs to clean himself of sand. “Come on,” Klavier said, going as far as to offer Apollo his hand. His rings shone in the sun. “Come on.”
It took some time to coax him down, like a cat from a tree but with a few smiles and promises and a touch of flirting they were eventually together in the ocean with their pant legs rolled up to their knees. He flinched at the feel of the water at first, but then Apollo was laughing, eyes gleaming and it was a far cry from the distant man he had met not so long ago.
A bigger wave than expected had Klavier yelping, darting back as the water splashed him and Apollo was bent over with the force of his laughter. As punishment, Klavier ducked and attempted to splash him, cupping one hand and cutting it through the water. Apollo was quicker than expected- he darted out of the water and while some splashed on his waistcoat he went mostly untouched.
Klavier made a disappointed noise, ducking in an attempt to splash him again- but a large wave he didn’t notice came up behind him and Apollo was kind enough to shout a warning, one that came too late. The water soaked the end of his pants, and Klavier was sure his shoes would be ruined.
Klavier swore and Apollo laughed, and with the sun blazing down on them both and the water lapping at their feet he was the most beautiful and genuine thing Klavier had ever seen.
There was something missing.
They just didn’t know it yet.
-
They parted with numbers in their mobiles and matching pleased smiles.
“Text me tonight,” Klavier told Apollo as he straddled his motorcycle, with a grin that Apollo would never admit was dazzling. “Let me know when your employer won’t be missing you, ja?”
He agreed, something with came bizarrely easily and watched him as he drove away with a funny feeling in his chest that he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. It existed in stark contrast to his melancholy at the beginning of the day, and he hoped this was the sign that things were going to look up. He had done his duty, found Clay’s killer and walked away with satisfaction. All he had to do was keep walking.
It was easier said than done, but now Apollo was sure he could do it. He felt lighter than he had in years.
He got the train back and the time passed him by quickly- he tried to finish reading through his work but he couldn’t concentrate. His mobile was burning a hole in his pocket. Never before had he been so eager, and he spent the entire journey back buzzing.
He couldn’t help feeling he was done for.
Rather than head straight home to his apartment, he stopped by the office to see what had happened while he was away- perhaps there would be a case, or the office would be set alight at another disastrous attempt at showing off a magic trick. When he walked up the steps and along the corridors he felt embarrassed suddenly, regretting his departure. He felt like a child throwing a tantrum and storming away- and while that was not was he was, he still regretted leaving them. They were like his second family. They only wanted to help and surround him with the normality they didn’t often experience.
He knocked, once, and then tried the door. It opened, and the feeling magnified as he entered, peering around the room.
He saw Trucy first, with her legs slung across the sofa and her eyes closed. She lay back as if sleeping, but her eyes opened, and when she saw him she looked startled- but then her face bloomed into a smile. “Polly,” She greeted, sitting up and swinging her legs free.
There was a rustling from the other room, and Mr Wright poked his head around the door. Both of them appeared to be unharmed and there didn’t seem to be a disaster, but with them Apollo could never quite be sure. “Apollo,” He smiled at him in welcome, before ducking away again.
Apollo had no time to greet him, so he turned to Trucy. He dropped his case to the floor beside the door and crossed the room. “Budge up,” He said, and she shimmed to one side so he could take the spot next to her. She splayed her legs back over his, like he wasn’t there. “You okay?”
“Yup!” She said, chirpy as ever. “Athena’s gone out. Just me and Daddy, all alone…” She pouted playfully, as theatrical as ever, and the embarrassment was back tenfold. He shouldn’t have gone, but he couldn’t find the regret.
“I’m sorry I left.” Apollo told her, quietly, but she only waved it away.
“It’s no problem. Daddy doesn’t mind either. We didn’t have a busy day.”
They didn’t, often. There were usually long periods of silence and then multiple cases arriving on their doorsteps at once, and they were very rarely simple. The long periods of silence came more regular than Apollo remembered, and a majority of cases were dealt with by Athena and Wright, but Apollo didn’t mind too much. It would have been nice to have work to distract him, but he wasn’t rushed off his feet all the time. Apollo wouldn’t be surprised if Wright had a few hidden grey hairs, and Widget was often orange as Athena grew irritable and tired from stress. Apollo offered to take off the load a few times, but they always declined.
Sometimes, Apollo wondered why that was. It couldn’t have been to give Apollo time to settle again. Maybe it was something more, like they were afraid Apollo would starting acting strangely again.
Or maybe the very thought was ridiculous, and Apollo was being paranoid. Either way, he wasn’t going to fight for the work. He still got it fairly often.
Apollo realised Trucy was still talking, a dull roar he barely heard as he was lost in his own thoughts. He nodded along lest she notice, pretending, and she asked, “So what did you do today?”
“I went over to the coast,” He said, and she made a noise of outraged jealousy. She loved the beach almost as much as he did. “Sorry, I’ll take you next time. If it makes you feel any better, I made an idiot out of myself in front of someone cute.”
Trucy groaned. It was a pitiful sound. “That makes it worse. I want to see you make a fool out of yourself. What did you do? How cute were they?”
“I dropped my papers over the side and he had to catch them before they went all the way down the beach and into the water.” He explained, and even the memory brought the embarrassment back. He was grateful for their meeting, but it would have been nice if it wasn’t in a way that made him look like an idiot. “They were very, very cute. And famous, so they were like… movie star attractive.”
Trucy sat up, and her eyes were gleaming. “They were famous? Who was it? Who was it?”
Before Apollo had the chance to tell her, she was twisting in her seat, leaning towards the door that Wright had disappeared down. “Daddy! Apollo met someone famous today!”
There was an ominous sound of thudding, several objects hitting the floor and the sound of Wright cursing as PG as possible before they heard footfalls, and he poked his head back around the door with an expectant look.
“He said he was cute as well!”
Wright pretended to perk up at that. “I love cute boys,” He said, and Trucy pulled a face at him.
“That’s a lie. Mr Edgeworth isn’t cute.”
Wright pretended to bluster theatrically as Apollo leaned back his head and laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that,” He threatened. “Maybe next time he goes away he won’t bring you back any of that German chocolate you like so much.” He turned to Apollo as Trucy gasped, kicking out her legs like a child younger than her as Wright grinned. “So. Cute famous guy? Anyone we know?”
“I don’t think so,” Apollo shook his head. Trucy listened raptly at his side. “He seemed pretty famous, said he used to be in a band of some kind that had a large fan base. I’ve never heard of them though, nor him.”
Phoenix pursed his lips. He looked oddly hesitant. He had never shown any concern for Apollo’s love life, or lack thereof before. “Used to be in a band?” If he sounded any different, Apollo didn’t notice. “What kind?”
“Something called the Gavviners,” He said, and for a moment he kept talking, blissfully ignorant of the dramatic shift in mood and the sharp look father and daughter exchanged. “I’m guessing the singer. He said something about a solo career.” He pressed his index finger into the skin between his eyebrows, casting his mind back. “I’m pretty sure, anyway. His name’s Klavier Gavin.”
The sound of Trucy sucking in a sharp breath was unmistakeable. He looked over to her, and her lips were parted with shock. “You know him.”
Her mouth worked uselessly for a long while. Eventually, she could only nod, and Apollo laughed. “Wow, star struck much? He must be famous then. I have to do out on a date with him.”
She recoiled. “He asked you out on a date?!”
“Thank you, Trucy, your surprise that anyone would be interested in me is touching. Just because I haven’t dated anyone since we met doesn’t mean I haven’t seen anyone in my entire life.” His dates tended to be few and far between, men and women, but it didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy dating. He just happened to prefer getting to know people before any physical touch came into it. “Having a celebrity ask me out is a surprise, though.”
“Are you going to agree?” Wright’s voice was unusually sharp. Apollo thought about how terrifying Wright would be if Trucy was approached by a celebrity, and tried to supress the quiver of fear that ran through him. “You don’t know anything about him, do you?”
“Not a thing,” Apollo confirmed.
“But…” Trucy looked uncertainly between the two of them. “That’s…. I don’t…”
“Don’t worry, Trucy. I really doubt anything will come of it. I think he won’t be so interested when he realises how dreadfully boring I am.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” She said in a strange voice, lightly discordant, but before she could continue her father spoke up, his voice prominent amongst theirs.
“Anyway,” Wright said, a touch forcefully, and changed the subject to something much less interesting but less strange- the lack of clients. He made the usual joke about making Apollo redundant that no one laughed at again, and their expressions barely even flickered. Trucy usually smiled in a patronizing manner, but now she averted her eyes and her lips didn’t even twitch. Apollo would have guessed she was jealous if he was a complete idiot.
None of them brought up Klavier again, and neither Wright nor Trucy lost the strange look in their eye. Weirdness aside, Apollo sat comfortably among them and conversation flowed as freely as it always did.
Apollo rest at the office for another hour, waiting to see if anything exciting happened. Predictably, the building was as lifeless as it was when he left that morning, and Wright gave the order to pack up and head home. It was only five but it had only very recently turned spring, and the cold bite of the evening was coming as the sun made it’s slow decent downwards.
He parted from them with a smile and a goodbye, and cycled all the way home. He made plans in his head to make his dinner, feed Mikeko and shower before he got too into relaxing, and tried to think of as many things he could do as possible to avoiding texting Klavier and appearing too eager. He didn’t want to feed the man’s ego anymore, even if he did want to contact him immediately.
He did all of these things slowly, making food with Mikeko winding around his legs and meowing even though he fed her first and watching television after his shower with her curled up beside him. All the while, his phone was still and silent in his pocket. Klavier was waiting for him to text first, and Apollo liked to kid himself it was with bated breath.
He watched an hour of mind numbingly bad television before picking up his phone and tapping out a message, slowly, letter by letter. He scratched Mikeko’s belly and he reread it almost a dozen times to make sure it was perfect- not too interested, not too flippant. What was the guide on texting an alleged celebrity, anyway?
Hi, got in a bit ago. Cat demanded attention. Have fun with the stupid drivers who don’t look for motorcycles? - Apollo
It felt stupid and the casual manner felt forced, but he sent in anyway. He tried not to think about it too hard- if he did, he would drive himself mad. He focused on the television again and cast the thoughts away.
The reply came two minutes later.
I was hoping you hadn’t given me a fake number, it read with a little smiley face. I know I came on a little weird today. I don’t often have heart to hearts with strangers on beaches. You’ll be glad to know I’m not texting from behind the grave. It was followed with a little smiley face.
Apollo smiled, and Mikeko meowed, bumping her head against his palm. He rubbed her ears absentmindedly as he replied, just as slow as before.
While it would have been amazing to say I gave a celebrity a fake number, I do actually want to see what someone like you does in their free time.
The reply came just as quickly. Hey, I’m as human as the rest of you mortals- I mean, you guys. I’ll prove it to you. Date night. Soon.
Soon?
Soooooon, Klavier’s reply read, with a little smiley of a person wearing sunglasses, and Apollo laughed.
There was something missing.
The pieces were at risk of coming together.