“Does he think he’s cool or something?”

It had been five minutes since the sound of a strummed guitar had started to drift up from the quad below. Apollo raised his head from his homework, glaring out the window above his desk, not bothering to crane his neck so he could actually see the musician—he knew who it was, anyway.

Clay, on the other side of the room, didn’t look up from his computer screen. “He’s surrounded by a crowd of girls, so, probably,” he replied. He paused, typed a couple words, backspaced nearly as many—he was working on an essay, Apollo guessed—before correcting himself: “Sorry, fräuleins.”

Apollo scoffed. It had been like this for nearly a month since the semester started—late afternoon rolled around, and Klavier Gavin installed himself on the picnic bench in the quad formed by three student dorms and took up his guitar to serenade whoever might be passing by. He usually attracted a small crowd as classes wound down for the day and students made their way back to their rooms and the dining hall, and his appearance had become so consistent that Apollo could nearly forecast it when he checked the weather in the morning—sunny, 70 degrees, 100% chance of Gavin.

Klavier’s chosen stage was positioned directly below the window of Apollo and Clay’s second-story room, so the distraction from his homework was at the top of Apollo’s list of grievances, but Clay had also been told of such crimes as “egotistical jewelry,” “improbable hair,” and “a weird obsession with Germany.” At the time, Clay had pointed out that it was a bit hypocritical for Apollo to accuse anyone of improbable hair, given the amount of styling gel he used daily, but Apollo hadn’t relented.

“Look at it,” he’d hissed, gesturing towards their windows. “You could kill someone with that hair.”

Now, he resolutely set his gaze back to his computer and jabbed bitterly at his trackpad to open a fifteenth tab in his web browser.

“We have a test next week,” he grumbled. “And a paper due right after that. When does he work?”

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Clay suggested. “Some of his groupies are guys—you wouldn’t be alone.”

Apollo shot him a glare and Clay laughed. “Honestly, though. Didn’t you say he’s doing well in that class? Maybe he’s cheating…”

“He’s not cheating,” Apollo admitted resentfully. “He’s just a genius.”

At first, Apollo had wondered about Klavier’s ability to clearly excel in Preston Dent’s notoriously challenging class while simultaneously appearing to do little to no work at all, but he had since dismissed those suspicions. Cheating on tests and homework would be one thing—responding to Dent’s in-class questions was another. And it wasn’t as if he flaunted it, either; he was an active participant in class without being a know-it-all, and he was overwhelmingly gracious when answering questions that left everyone else at a loss.

Not that his academic prowess was a shock to anyone; Klavier Gavin had practically grown up with the law, with his famous older brother and his diploma from Themis Law Academy. It made sense that he wouldn’t have any trouble in a class full of beginners.

Apollo knew all this, but it was so at odds with the guy’s personality that he had a hard time processing it. Klavier practically glittered with jewelry wherever he went. His otherwise impeccable arguments in class were peppered with foreign turns of phrase and weighted with a touch of affected accent, and he spent hours of study time perched on the picnic table instead, plucking at his guitar. Then there was the band, which was named after him and which was, against all odds, actually popular. All of Ivy knew who Klavier Gavin was.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Here Apollo was, working his butt off to keep Dent’s class from sinking his GPA, and Klavier just seemed to breeze through it all effortlessly, with a swish of his platinum bangs and a flash of that blinding grin.

In a valiant attempt to let go of his irritation, Apollo exhaled heavily and dragged his attention back to the stacks of papers flanking his laptop—which reminded him why he had lost focus long enough to be distracted by Klavier’s guitar in the first place.

“Clay?” he ventured.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna go to the library for me?”

“Are you being serious right now?” Clay did look up from his screen now, to fix Apollo with a blank stare. “You really don’t want to walk across the quad just because he’s down there?”

Apollo grumbled an unintelligible response and hauled himself to his feet. “Yeah, fine.”

He knew it was ridiculous to let Klavier irritate him so much. Aside from his long list of complaints, Apollo couldn’t really explain why the guy rubbed him the wrong way. There was some jealousy there, Apollo supposed as he trudged down the cement stairs—if he’d had the opportunities Klavier had, he certainly wouldn’t be wasting his time strumming out acoustic covers of his own music and flirting with everyone who walked within earshot.

Or maybe he would be, if he looked like Klavier. But that was beside the point.

Either way, he had a few more books to dig out of the stacks to add to his bibliography, and he wasn’t going to let an impromptu concert in the quad prevent him from working on his research paper.

A paper that Klavier should also be working on, Apollo reflected darkly as he emerged from the building and started across the quad, deliberately choosing the route furthest from the group of girls—and guys, Clay wasn’t wrong—surrounding Klavier’s picnic table.

When Apollo got halfway across the quad, the singing and strumming abruptly stopped.

Apollo almost looked, curious despite himself, but he stopped himself and kept walking. Figures that he decides he’s done as soon as I’m leaving.

He was almost to the gap between the two dorms that would funnel him towards the main academic quad when—

“Apollo!”

This time, he couldn’t prevent himself from turning instinctively towards the voice that had called his name, even if, while he did so, he was recognizing it as the same one that had stopped singing just moments before.

Klavier had hopped up from the picnic table, swinging his guitar around on its strap to rest it against his back, and he was striding across the grass in Apollo’s direction. His audience was peering after him curiously.

Is there another Apollo here?

But Klavier’s bright blue eyes were fixed on him, so Apollo had no choice but to wait until he approached, eyeing him warily the whole time.

“Yeah?” he asked when Klavier was within speaking distance. Immediately, he regretted not taking a couple steps back to stand on the concrete sidewalk edging the lawn—he had to look up slightly to meet Klavier’s eyes.

Klavier, meanwhile, was smiling that obnoxious little grin of his, the one that made it look like he thought of you like a dear friend, like he was intensely curious about what you had to say. Apollo had once briefly considered the possibility that Klavier actually did care about what everyone had to say, but he wasn’t in the mood now for giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“I was going to email you, but this is better,” Klavier began, hooking a thumb through the belt loop of his absurdly skinny jeans. “I have, ah, something of a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Apollo echoed, not bothering to moderate the doubt in his voice.

Klavier’s gaze flickered, just a little, and Apollo almost felt bad about it. Almost.

“Ah, ja,” Klavier went on. “I suppose I should get right to the point. I was wondering if you would be interested in starting a pre-law society with me.”

Apollo, who had been busy irritably pondering the little G-shaped pendant hanging from a thin chain around Klavier’s neck, blinked and snapped his eyes back to Klavier’s face. “A what?”

Klavier shifted his weight. “A pre-law society. A club for students planning to go to law school after Ivy.”

Apollo gaped at him for a moment—to the point where Klavier was starting to look a bit concerned—before finally asking, “You want my help?”

A small crease appeared between Klavier’s brows. “You are planning to go to law school, ja?” Apollo nodded. “And you seem very passionate about it. Law, that is. Am I wrong?”

“Uh…no.” He thinks I’m passionate? Apollo shook himself slightly and let his eyebrows crunch back into a skeptical scowl. “But…”

“I was just hoping we could talk about it,” Klavier cut in, before Apollo could pick a question to ask. “If you’re at all interested.”

“I…” He was interested, he totally was. Now that the idea was sinking in, Apollo was honestly surprised that he hadn’t noticed before that Ivy was lacking exactly what Klavier was suggesting. Academically, Ivy’s pre-law program was solid, but that didn’t mean there weren’t gaps to address. Networking, LSAT prep, internship resources…Apollo’s mind was spinning through the potential benefits before he could stop himself.

It was just…

His eye caught on the guitar sticking out from behind Klavier’s back, and he glanced past him, to his abandoned audience.

Starting a club…with Klavier Gavin?

He imagined Clay kicking him for turning down such an opportunity just because the person suggesting it played the guitar and wore too many rings, and he chewed on his lip.

“Um,” he said finally, and Klavier’s face, which had started to fall slightly, snapped back to attention. “…can I think about it? It’s just, I have a lot on my plate, and…”

Klavier was already nodding. “Of course,” he said easily. “I can’t say it won’t be a time commitment, especially starting off. That’s why I can’t do it alone, ja?”

The touch of an accent on that last syllable almost changed Apollo’s mind, but he steeled himself against the impulse. “Okay,” he said instead. “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

Klavier’s ensuing smile was…Apollo didn’t want to think dazzling, but he squinted a little as the sunny afternoon seemed to brighten another shade.

“Take your time,” Klavier urged. “And I’m sorry for ambushing you,” he added. “I’ll see you in class?”

“Uh, yeah. See ya.”

Klavier’s expression flashed bright again, and with a wave, he turned around and loped back across the quad to his waiting fans. Apollo could faintly hear him apologizing.

Apollo stayed where he was a moment longer, until a buzz from his phone shocked him out of his thoughts.

            Clay [5:02 pm]: dude what did klavier want????

I’ll tell you later, Apollo typed back quickly, then tucked his phone away and started on his way to the library, leaving the sound of guitar chords behind him. He was out of earshot before Klavier started singing again.

~~~~~

Dear Klavier-

Apollo frowned and deleted the “dear.”

Hello Klavier-

Also weirdly formal. He was just another student, there was no reason for this to be so hard. He pressed a finger to his forehead and sighed.

Yesterday, Clay had reacted predictably to the news, forcing Apollo to confront that a club like this, no matter who wanted to start it, was exactly what he wanted to see on campus. Apollo had pointed out that he could just join the club after Klavier started it with someone else, but he knew even without Clay’s skeptical raised eyebrows that if he was going to be a part of this, it wasn’t just going to be as a member. Klavier was right, somehow: Apollo was passionate about law, and a leadership position in something like this wouldn’t just help him in the future, it would be something he would enjoy. And he liked to think he would do a good job, too.

Klavier-

I’m really interested in your idea, and I was wondering what kinds of ideas you—

That had “idea” twice.

I’m really interested in your idea. Maybe we could meet to discuss what you had in mind?

-Apollo

Good enough. Apollo glanced over the message three more times, then clicked send.

He leaned back in his chair and noticed the sound of a strummed guitar just in time to hear it break off.

Apollo, halfway to opening a homework assignment, paused. He hadn’t even noticed Klavier playing, which as far as he could remember was unprecedented for him—the sound always had a way of drilling straight through whatever he was trying to focus on. Pushing back his desk chair, he nudged the blinds apart with one finger to better see the grassy area below.

Sure enough, Klavier Gavin was perched on a picnic table, alone for once. His guitar rested in his lap, ignored for the moment as he read something on his phone. Apollo realized belatedly that it might be his email, and, suddenly self-conscious, started to withdraw from the window when something stopped him.

Klavier was smiling at his phone, but it was a different smile than Apollo was used to. It wasn’t the flashy grin, or that indulgent smirk—this was softer, the barest curve of lips that was somehow more sincere than any expression Apollo had ever seen on him. It a secret sort of smile, shared between Klavier and whatever he was reading on his phone.

Definitely not my email, then, Apollo reflected, stepping back from the window and feeling faintly like he had just intruded on something.

Then his computer dinged with a new message alert, and the guitar playing in the quad resumed.

Apollo stood in line at Ivy’s campus coffee shop—the Vine—staring blankly at the menu even though he always ordered the same thing. He wasn’t thinking about his coffee—he was brainstorming. There was a good chance, he thought, that this meeting was a terrible mistake.

Klavier’s idea sounded nice in theory, but could Apollo really count on that German wannabe to have a serious plan in place? For all he knew, Apollo could be walking into some sort of disguised Gavinners fanclub.

A more charitable portion of his mind reminded him of what he had begrudgingly admitted to Clay the other day—that Klavier was legitimately smart, frustratingly well-spoken, and definitely earning his grades in Dent’s class by his own merits. Even so…Apollo stared at the words Maple Cinnamon Latte and chewed on his lip.

If he’s not here in two more minutes…

“Apollo.”

The sound of his name startled him, and he turned to see that Klavier Gavin had stepped into line behind him. Apollo had expected his arrival to be heralded by at least some degree of clinking jewelry, but the Klavier was wearing only a single thin chain with a modestly sized Gavinners pendant. Not that his outfit didn’t include plenty of things to grouse about—that is a seriously low-cut v-neck—but at least he wasn’t glittering.

“Oh. Hi.”

“I really appreciate you meeting with me,” Klavier went on. There was that over-earnest smile again. The line moved forward before he could say anything else, and he gestured for Apollo to step up to the counter. “Go ahead, and I’m paying.”

“Wha—you don’t need—”

“Consider it thanks for humoring my idea. Please, I insist.”

“…thanks,” Apollo said finally, before ordering his usual—a regular coffee, milk, no sugar. Klavier ordered something that sounded like it came with whipped cream, and they stepped to the side to wait for their drinks.

“I hope this time was okay,” Klavier said, leaning against the counter where the lids and stirrers were kept. “I didn’t want to tear you away from studying, but then again, I could use a break.”

Apollo looked up. “How’d you know I was studying?”

Klavier seemed surprised by the question. “We have an exam in three days. Isn’t everyone studying?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.” Apollo had been holing himself up in the library partly with the aim of avoiding the acoustic version of the Gavinners entire repertoire—it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe he didn’t need to go to such lengths.

Sighing heavily, Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs, but the motion was weary, not flashy. “Dar’s ready to kill me because I told him I’m skipping rehearsal tomorrow. He didn’t believe me when I said that if I went, I would only be able to sing about case precedents.”

“Would that really be too different?” Apollo said under his breath, before he could stop himself—the Gavinners were notorious for heavy-handed legal metaphors.

Klavier blinked, then let out a bright laugh. “I can’t argue with you on that one.” His smile turned sly. “Does this mean I can assume that Herr Justice has heard some of our music?”

“I can’t exactly avoid it,” Apollo replied. “I’m stuck with front-row seats.”

For an instant, Klavier’s smile faltered. “What?”

“Your favorite picnic table is literally right next to my window,” Apollo clarified.

Klavier’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth and closed it again before drawing the smile back to his lips, although it seemed a touch forced this time. On his wrist, Apollo’s bracelet quivered.

“Ah,” Klavier said at last. “So you must be one of our biggest fans, ja?”

“Not so sure about that,” Apollo returned. What was that about?

To Apollo’s surprise, Klavier just laughed good-naturedly, apparently recovered from his momentary uncertainty. “Well, I still have almost an entire semester to change your mind, ja?”

Their names were called, and they collected their drinks and claimed one of the tables against the wall of the café. Klavier set down his backpack and pulled out a sizeable stack of papers, which Apollo eyed with some apprehension.

“Alright, let’s rock.” He snapped his fingers, drawing Apollo’s eyes away from the papers, and grinned. “Don’t worry about the forms, we’ll take care of that later. Do you want to hear my pitch?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow and blew lightly on his drink. “You have a pitch?”

“My ‘opening statement,’ if you will,” Klavier amended, smiling wryly.

“Am I the judge or the defense in this analogy?”

“Probably both,” Klavier said, after considering this for a moment. “But I’m pretty confident I can make my case.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Apollo said. To be honest, another reason he had always looked askance at Klavier Gavin was that he could hardly picture him as a lawyer. After all, he knew about Klavier’s brother Kristoph, an established attorney whose personal style could hardly be more different from his brother’s—Kristoph looked like a lawyer. Klavier, with his necklaces and skinny jeans and occasional touches of eye makeup, looked like someone a teenage girl would have a poster of in her bedroom. Apollo knew Klavier was smart, but it hardly mattered if no one could take him seriously.

Klavier idly adjusted his stack of forms so the corners lined up, then drew a breath before speaking. “Of course you know that the success of certain alums has made Ivy a popular choice for aspiring lawyers lately,” he began.

Certain alums meant Phoenix Wright—Apollo himself had considered Ivy in the first place because of him, too.

“Unfortunately,” Klavier went on, “the university isn’t quite keeping up—there’s no student organization, and helpful resources are scattered. I propose a Pre-Law society to both prepare students for what comes after Ivy, gather resources in one place, and provide networking opportunities at Ivy and in the wider legal community.” Klavier looked up. “I have a few outlines with details on how to get this done, but that’s the general idea.”

Apollo blinked. Was this really the same guy who called girls fräuleins and could occasionally be spotted rocking out on air guitar?

 “So, any thoughts?” Klavier prompted when Apollo didn’t say anything right away.

“Yeah, uh—it sounds great. Really. Like, I know exactly what you mean about scattered resources, and with a lot of people spread out over different majors, I’m not even sure I know all the other pre-law students, except the ones in the same classes as me.” Apollo paused. He could feel himself getting excited about this, and part of him wondered why he hadn’t thought of the same thing. “I’m sure a lot of people would be interested.”

“So…you’re in?” Klavier asked.

“Yeah, definitely,” Apollo responded, before he could even consider how odd it was that he had been complaining about this guy only days before. But it was difficult to remember the irritating guitar melodies floating up from the quad when he was faced with whatever version of Klavier Gavin this was.

“Wunderbar,” Klavier said, threatening to diminish Apollo’s sudden good opinion of him by slipping into German. “Let’s get to business.”

He tapped his stack of papers with one knuckle. “We have to fill these out and hand them in to Student Activities, but that can wait. I’d rather talk about our first meeting.”

“Okay, sure,” Apollo agreed. “Do we need to pick a regular meeting room, or…?”

Klavier nodded. “Ja, but not for the first meeting. I wanted to start off with a bang.” He snapped his fingers to accent his point. “Something that’s sure to make people come.”

“Won’t people just come because they’re pre-laws?” Apollo was pretty much sold just based on Klavier’s short speech—he didn’t see why any sort of “bang” was necessary. Then Klavier leaned forward and a glimmer of light off the pendant around his neck caught Apollo’s eye. He suddenly remembered just who he was talking to.

Wait, he can’t mean…

“Not a concert,” he blurted out. Klavier raised an eyebrow.

“What? Oh, no.” He laughed, glancing down at his necklace. “I thought about it, but it’s not enough. We’re popular, but people wouldn’t come to a law club concert when there’s a regular concert happening next month.” He brushed his fingers through his bangs, but a moment later his expression turned contemplative. “It wouldn’t be a bad fundraiser once we’re more established…”

He took a small notebook from his bag and jotted down a sentence.

“So not a concert,” Apollo prompted, trying not to sound too relieved.

“Better.” He paused, and Apollo was certain it was for dramatic effect and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “A Q&A with Phoenix Wright would get people’s attention, don’t you think?”

Apollo gaped for a moment before recovering. “Well, yeah, sure, but how would we manage a Q&A with Phoenix Wright?”

Klavier shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. He and my bro are associates.”

Of course—being Kristoph Gavin’s brother, Klavier probably had all sorts of connections with famous lawyers already. Apollo wondered faintly why exactly Klavier needed his help to start this club.

“I want to get started as soon as possible,” Klavier was saying. “The forms might take a while to go through, but we can advertise the event before the club is approved—it doesn’t have to be an official club event, because I’m sure a lot of non-pre-laws will want to come, too. Then we can just put in a plug for the club at the end. What do you think?”

“That…sounds great,” Apollo said, somewhat dazedly, wondering again how he was supposed to be of any use here. Maybe Klavier wanted him to fill out that monstrous stack of forms while he was busy rubbing shoulders with prominent attorneys.

“Excellent. Now, since I know how the whole room reservation process works, I’ll take care of the location and advertising.” Klavier flipped a page in his notebook and wrote down a couple things. “And these forms are terrible, so I won’t put that on you.”

So what exactly am I doing here?

“Could you take care of contacting our guest of honor?”

For a moment, Apollo wasn’t sure he heard right.

“Wh—me?”

Klavier tore the page from his notebook and passed it across the table. “If that’s alright with you? Here’s Wright’s email address, and Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth’s, as well. The Chief Prosecutor is busy, so he might be harder to get in touch with, but if you can get Wright, then Edgeworth is a little easier, ja?”

Apollo hoped that was true; the two lawyers had sent the legal world into a bit of an uproar when they had announced their marriage a little less than a year ago—even if no one was really surprised—so maybe it wasn’t unreasonable to hope that they might be a package deal.

Still, he took the piece of paper somewhat reverently, even though a couple email addresses were hardly privileged information. “But you’re the one who knows them…”

“Ja, but not that well. It won’t make much of a difference. Besides, it will be good for you to establish a connection, especially with Mr. Wright. You want to be a defense attorney, right?” Klavier met his eyes.

“Well, yeah…” How’d you know that? “Are you sure…”

“Absolutely. Besides, room reservation is a mess. I have to do it all the time for Gavinners concerts, so I know the tricks. As soon as I find something available, I’ll give you a date so you can pass it along to Wright and Edgeworth.” Klavier snapped his notebook shut and took a sip of his coffee, which had been entirely neglected up until now. “I’m really glad you liked this idea, Apollo,” he added.

“Oh. Yeah.” Apollo said. He rubbed his neck a little uncertainly. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he was bringing to the table, but Klavier sounded so sincere. “Uh…thanks for letting me get involved.”

“Nein, you had to be involved,” Klavier said earnestly. “I wouldn’t get anything done on my own, believe me.”

Apollo must have looked like he absolutely did not believe him, because Klavier gave a small laugh.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he said. “Before college, actually. But…it’s hard for me to get started on things sometimes, especially if I really want to do it right…I get caught up in the details, ja? Like with the Gavinners…I wanted to have a whole album planned out before we even went advertising around for a drummer. I need someone to tell me it’s okay to jump into things without a plan for every issue, you know?” Klavier looked up with a wry smile. “And an aspiring defense attorney who looks up to Phoenix Wright seemed like just the kind of person.”

There it was again, the defense attorney thing. “Okay how do you know that?” Apollo asked. “About what I want to do. Because…we’ve never really talked.” It sounded harsh when he put it that way, but he supposed it wasn’t as harsh as “because until a few days ago I was pretty sure I hated you.”

Klavier looked surprised. “Beginning of last semester? Case had us introduce ourselves and explain why we wanted to take her class. You talked about State v. Engarde.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess I did. Almost forgot about that.” Apollo scratched his chin. He had also entirely forgotten that Klavier had been in that class, too. He’d made less of an impression in Apollo’s thoughts when he hadn’t insisted on providing an unwelcome soundtrack to his homework.

“Some people think Wright made the wrong choice, abandoning his client for personal reasons,” Klavier was saying, while Apollo tried and failed to remember anything of note about Klavier from last semester.

Apollo frowned. “Well, it wasn’t really—” he began.

“Ja, I know,” Klavier rushed to say. “And I agree with you. It was more than personal reasons—it was justice. Court isn’t a competition—it’s a collaboration to reach the truth at the heart of a case. That’s what I’ve always thought, anyway, so it stuck with me when it seemed like you felt the same.”

Apollo nodded slowly. “And…you want to be a prosecutor?”

“That’s what my Themis diploma says,” Klavier confirmed.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Just…not following in your brother’s footsteps?”

Klavier’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s…well. They’re big footsteps.”

 “Hm.” A strange silence fell over the table, and Apollo fiddled with his drink lid, unsure of how to break it.

Klavier looked at his watch. “Anyway. Unfortunately, I have to leave you—I have another meeting before it’s time to get back to studying.” He tucked his papers away in his bag and downed a good portion of his drink in one gulp. “Danke, Apollo. For meeting me.”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah, I’m looking forward to this.”

“And good luck with Herr Wright,” Klavier said, flashing a smile as he stood. Apollo’s nervousness sprung to life again—he had momentarily forgotten his assigned task.

“Right…”

“Don’t worry, there are ways to get on Herr Wright’s bad side, but I’m fairly certain most of them involve threatening his friends.”

“Darn, there goes my number one strategy,” Apollo deadpanned.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with a Plan B,” Klavier told him. He shouldered his bag, took his coffee in one hand, and gave a little wave. “I’ll be in touch!”

“Okay—oh, wait.” Klavier paused, and Apollo dug his phone out of his pocket. “Uh, email’s fine, but it might be easier to text each other?”

“Oh! Ja, good idea.” Klavier took the offered device and entered his number one-handedly. “There you are.”

When he handed the phone back, Apollo saw that his new contact was “Klavier,” accompanied by a tiny guitar emoji. He raised an eyebrow but sent Klavier a text with his name anyway, and Klavier pulled his own phone out of his back pocket to check the screen.

“Perfect,” he said, tapping a few keys with his thumb. Apollo’s phone lit up with a reply to his message—a little text smiley face. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate. Good luck with your studying!”

“Yeah, same. See you.”

Apollo stayed at the table, folding and unfolding the corner of the paper with Phoenix Wright’s email address as he finished his coffee. He could count the number of times he had spoken to Klavier Gavin on one hand, and aside from trading arguments and discussion points in class, most of those conversations had been short and unmemorable. But right now, he was finding himself wishing Klavier hadn’t had to leave so quickly. There was so much more he wanted to talk about…he considered the little emoji smiling at him from his messages for a moment, then locked the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket.

It was disconcerting, to say the least. Apollo comforted himself with the thought that when Dent’s test was finished and Klavier resumed his picnic table concert series, at least he might still find the guy a little bit irritating.

 ~~~~~~~~

Late that evening, Apollo was staring at his pages of notes, willing the information to imprint itself on his brain, when his phone vibrated from under a stack of loose papers and notebooks. He excavated it from his study materials and checked the screen.

            Klavier 🎸[10:04 pm]: can i assume herr justice is somewhere in this library wrestling with this study guide?

The text was accompanied by a photo of the same piece of paper that Apollo had come very close to ripping apart multiple times in the past ten minutes.

            Apollo [10:04 pm]: you can assume that

            Klavier 🎸[10:05 pm]: any thoughts?

Klavier Gavin having trouble with one of Dent’s questions? Apollo would have laughed if he wasn’t so miserable—it was hard to gloat when he couldn’t piece together an answer himself.

            Apollo [10:05 pm]: murder, mostly

            Klavier 🎸[10:05 pm]: careful, you’re talking to a future officer of the law here

            Apollo: [10:06 pm]: i meant the study guide

            Klavier 🎸[10:06 pm]: ahaha in that case, I think you might have an accomplice ;)

Of course Klavier Gavin is the kind of person who uses the wink emoji.

He wondered where Klavier was studying—the library always felt so still at this hour, but it was kind of comforting to think that, in some other nook among the stacks, someone else was staring wearily at the same textbook and contemplating a defection to the other side of the law (sort of).

Maybe we’d get more done if we worked on it together.

The thought surprised him, even if it did make sense. He contemplated the short thread of messages, wondering if there was a way to ask without sounding too desperate…

Another message appeared before he could type anything.

            Klavier 🎸[10:07 pm]: maybe you just need some appropriate study music.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=visRMohDgmU

Apollo frowned at the link for a moment, sighed, and tapped to open it. And then immediately closed it.

I don’t know what I was expecting, he thought ruefully. Recalling a certain incident that had occurred at a Gavinners concert last year and gained the attention of the entire university, he sent another text.

            Apollo [10:08 pm]: 🔥 🎸 🔥

            Klavier 🎸[10:08 pm]: >:(

 “Apollo?”

Clay crossed the room to where Apollo was sitting on the edge of his bed and snapped his fingers in front of his roommate’s face.

“Earth to Apollo…come in Apollo…Apollo, this is Houston, do you have a problem?”

“I’m meeting Phoenix Wright in forty-five minutes,” Apollo said faintly.

Just emailing Phoenix Wright had been stressful enough—about two weeks ago, he had spent almost an hour on a thoughtfully crafted paragraph only to receive an “Apollo—sounds like a great idea. Keep me updated. Best, Phoenix” in response. Apollo couldn’t help but feel a tad disappointed, but he wasn’t about to let a short email reply dim his opinion of the defense attorney. They exchanged several more emails after that to get everything set up, and Apollo almost got used to the idea that he was emailing Phoenix Wright, but none of that prepared Apollo for actually seeing the man.

“He’s that lawyer, right? The one who interrogates birds?” Clay was frowning thoughtfully.

“It was a cross-examination, and it revealed critical evidence that incarcerated one of the most corrupt prosecutors in history,” Apollo corrected, suddenly alert.

“Ah, I knew that would get you,” Clay said, grinning. “You’ll be fine, he’s just your idol, no biggie.”

Apollo turned a distressed expression on him and Clay slapped him on the back.

“Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? You make a fool of yourself? He does that all the time, right? Maybe he’ll see it as a sign of promise and offer you a job.”

“Oh my god, don’t even joke about that,” Apollo said gravely. “You’ll jinx it.”

With that, he finally slid off his bed and stood up straight. “I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine.”

“Damn right you are,” Clay agreed. “Go show that bird guy that you’re lawyer material.”

“His name is Phoenix—”

“I know his name, just go get ready,” Clay interrupted, pushing him out of the room.

~~~~~

Apollo fussed with his tie as he approached the lecture hall. He and Klavier were supposed to be mediating the event, so he had dressed nicely, but was the tie too much? Or was it too red? Prosecutor Edgeworth usually wore red…what if it clashed? Oh god, he hadn’t even thought that much about Edgeworth…he had been so busy mentally preparing for the presence of Phoenix Wright that he had almost forgotten the Chief Prosecutor.

But it was too late to worry about it, because he had arrived.

He was early—there was a good chance they weren’t even here yet. Either way, he steeled himself before pulling open the door.

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that only Klavier stood by the chalkboard on the lecture hall’s lower level. He was tapping at a microphone and frowning, but at the sound of the door opening, he looked up at Apollo and smiled.

Apollo blinked, surprised.

The surprise was mostly at himself, because for a moment, he could have sworn he thought to himself that Klavier looked good.

It was a fact of life, of course, that Klavier Gavin was attractive. Apollo had known it was true objectively, the same way he knew that the guy was in a band and had a fixation on Germany—the evidence behind Klavier’s good looks would probably hold up in court. But he had never really dwelt on it before—mostly because he was too busy wondering exactly what it was about Gavinners songs that brought out the worst in acoustic guitar.

But he was thinking about it now, although he still wasn’t certain what brought it on. Klavier’s hair swept over his shoulder in that same ridiculous twist as usual, settling next to the open collar of his black dress shirt—would it kill him to wear a tie?—which was tucked into a pair of deep purple pants that were probably more fitted than they needed to be. A few rings glittered on his fingers, but otherwise he had forgone his omnipresent jewelry.

Oh right, Apollo remembered faintly. I’m gay. And a sucker for business casual, apparently.

“Hey, Apollo,” Klavier greeted him. He spoke into the microphone next. “Any chance this is working back there?”

Apollo shook his head, taking a moment to scold his thoughts back to the matter at hand. It didn’t take long—Phoenix Wright is going to be here any minute holy shit…

Klavier frowned irritably at the microphone then went to fiddle with a few buttons on the podium.

“How about now?” Klavier’s voice was projected through the room and Apollo gave him a thumbs-up. “Test, test…your words are like a bullet shot straight—”

Apollo’s thumbs-up changed to a thumbs-down and Klavier’s singing broke off with a laugh.

“Well, everything’s all set. That’s a nice tie.”

The compliment was so sudden Apollo almost missed it. He paused halfway down the stairs to the front of the room. “Huh? Oh. Thanks.”

Klavier smiled. “They should be here soon. Ready?”

“Uh. I hope so.” He added an I’m fine under his breath as he joined Klavier by the blackboard.

They both fell silent as the door creaked.

“Wright, are you absolutely positive that you attended this school?”

“Hey, it was a long time ago! I’m allowed to forget where some of the rooms are…and look, I found it! Third try isn’t too bad. And we only interrupted one class.”

Apollo didn’t hear what the Chief Prosecutor had to say to this. He stared up at the blue-suited attorney entering the room with something like awe, even though Wright’s sheepish grin under the glower of his companion was hardly the face one might expect to see on their idol.

“Hey, Klavier, it’s been a while,” Wright said, making his way down the stairs to shake Klavier’s hand. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s doing well,” Klavier replied, smiling. “Good to see you again, Herr Wright.”

“And you must be Apollo Justice?” Wright said next, turning to Apollo.

Apollo somehow coordinated his limbs enough to hold out one hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wright,” he said, thankful that he had practiced that phrase at least twenty times in the mirror before he came, much to Clay’s chagrin.

“You too, Chief Prosecutor,” he added as Edgeworth followed Wright down the stairs. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Wright returned, grinning. “A pre-law society is a great idea. I could’ve used something like that when I was here.”

“Oh, well that was actually Klavier’s idea,” Apollo rushed to clarify. He couldn’t exactly take the credit for the club, no matter how impressed Wright looked.

“And I wouldn’t be able to do it without Apollo,” Klavier said immediately, his hand coming to rest on Apollo’s shoulder for just the briefest moment. Wright smiled at the two of them.

“Ah, the next generation,” he sighed. “Doesn’t this make you feel old, Miles?”

“We are thirty, Phoenix,” Edgeworth replied.

“Yeah, old. That’s why they want us to impart our wisdom.” Edgeworth rolled his eyes.

Students started trickling in, and it wasn’t long before the lecture hall was full. Actually full. Apollo was a little surprised—there were even some professors scattered throughout the audience.

Klavier leaned down to speak in his ear. “Good turnout, ja?”

“Yeah,” Apollo agreed. Did this many people at school even know who Phoenix Wright was? He had been fairly certain his interest in the legal world was pretty…niche. Narrowing his eyes at Klavier, he asked, “How did you advertise this thing, anyway?”

Klavier looked aggrieved. “Apollo, your insinuations wound me. I assure you that everyone here is here for our guests.”

Apollo said nothing, just pointedly turned to eye a group in the front row, all wearing matching purple-and-black shirts boasting the same emblem that usually hung from a chain around Klavier’s neck. Following his gaze, Klavier sighed, and Apollo could have sworn he saw him redden just the slightest bit. Before Apollo could comment, however, Klavier brushed back his bangs and glanced over at Wright and Edgeworth to see if they were ready. Upon receiving a thumbs-up from Wright, he lifted the microphone and smiled out at the crowd.

“Achtung, baby!” Klavier said into the mic, earning some cheers and whistles from the Gavinners fans in the audience and an eye-roll from Apollo. When the chatter in the room subsided, Klavier went on. “Nein, nein, today we have a different kind of show for you—although I promise it will rock just as hard as any Gavinners concert.” He paused to allow a few stray whoops. “Before I hand the mic over to Apollo, though, I want to give a brief introduction—and a shameless plug. For those who don’t know me, my name is Klavier Gavin, and I’m a junior in the legal course here at Ivy. Law has always been one of my passions, and for a while now I’ve been hoping to start a club to gather up any like-minded individuals. So, if you’re pursuing a career in law now, or if hearing from our guests inspires you, be sure to join us next week at the first meeting of the Ivy Pre-Law Society. Keep an eye out for the meeting details this week.”

Did he just…wink…? Apollo thought, but he didn’t have much time to consider or be exasperated by the possibility because Klavier was handing the microphone to him.

“Uh, hey, everyone,” Apollo began. There was a whine of feedback from the speaker, and the audience shrank back slightly—Apollo remembered, too late, that projecting his voice wasn’t exactly necessary with the microphone. He continued in a quieter tone. “Sorry. Hi, everyone. I’m Apollo Justice, a junior in the legal course like Klavier. Like he said—really consider joining the club if you have any interest. We’ll have study groups for some of the required classes, and we’re thinking of setting up some mock trials and other events like this.” He paused and glanced over at where Wright and Edgeworth were seated. “Okay! And without further ado, I’ll introduce our guests.”

As Apollo read off the brief introductions he had prepared for each of the lawyers, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. He had spent the majority of his teenage years following the careers of these two men—once he realized that law was something he was interested in, he had become enthralled by the story of the rookie lawyer who stood up for the wrongly accused and won against all odds, and the so-called demon prosecutor who transformed into the greatest force against corruption the LA courts had ever seen.

It sounded dramatic, but in some ways, they were giants in his eyes. He could hardly believe he was standing here introducing them to a bunch of college students—he had hoped, maybe, that someday he would encounter them in the courthouse, if he was lucky, but this was more than he had ever dared wish for, at least not realistically.

“So, we’ll open this up to questions…” Apollo said when he finished the introductions. At least a dozen hands shot up. Apollo picked at random and handed the mic to a girl in the second row.

“My question is for Mr. Wright,” she began. “So…did you really cross-examine a bird?”

Many odd questions and even odder answers later, Klavier finally told the audience that they had already gone twenty minutes over their room reservation and needed to wrap up. The room emptied, and Apollo and Klavier were left alone with the two lawyers again.

“Call or email me any time,” Wright said, handing Apollo a business card as the audience filed out. “Career advice, the answers for Dent’s final, a criminal defense…you name it.”

“Likewise,” Edgeworth added, offering his card as well. “Except for the last two,” he added, raising an eyebrow at Wright, who only grinned.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Apollo said, for probably the fifth time that afternoon.

“No problem,” Wright said. “Like I said—the club’s a great idea. Although I have to say, I didn’t realize we’d be so popular…”

“You’re one of Ivy’s distinguished alums, nein?” Klavier pointed out. He was still at the podium, switching off the mics and putting them away. “As the university so enjoys pointing out.”

“Universities do tend to have a rather selective memory when their graduates turn out to be successful,” Edgeworth said, looking sideways at Wright with an amused smile.

“Anyway,” Phoenix said. “I told Preston Dent we would stop by after this, so we should probably get going.”

“If we’re going to have any chance of you finding his office before he leaves for the day, you mean?” Edgeworth asked. Wright only shot him a sour look, then held out his hand to Apollo again.

“It was good to meet you, Apollo,” Wright said as they shook hands. “And nice to see you, Klavier. Say hi to your brother for me.”

“You might see him before I do,” Klavier remarked. “But ja, I will. Thanks for coming.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and the two lawyers left. Apollo thought he heard Wright grumble something about how he knew “exactly where Dent’s office was, thank you very much” as they disappeared through the door, followed by the light chuckle from Edgeworth.

“Whoa,” Apollo breathed as the door fell closed. “I can’t believe I have business cards from Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth.”

“They are pretty incredible people,” Klavier agreed.

Apollo glanced at him. “You’ve met both of them before, haven’t you.”

“Well, ja, but I know how you feel. I was very star-struck when my brother first introduced me, as well.”

“Hm. Well…thanks a lot. For putting this together.”

“Me? I believe you’re the one who secured our illustrious guests,” Klavier replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but—” Apollo stammered.

“Don’t give me too much credit,” Klavier said. “We had an excellent turnout, ja? How many do you think will come to the meeting?”

Apollo frowned thoughtfully. “A decent amount, I hope. I don’t want to get too optimistic, though.”

“Even if there are only a few, I think it will be worth it,” Klavier said. He held out his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Apollo.”

“Yeah,” Apollo replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “You, too.”

~~~~~

As they saw more and more of each other, Apollo was slowly coming to accept that Klavier Gavin had some—if not several—redeeming qualities. That said, all those other things that he had spent months complaining to Clay about hadn’t just disappeared now that the two of them were better acquainted.

“So…did you grow up in Germany?” Apollo asked one day. They had met at the Vine again to finish some preparations for their upcoming inaugural meeting, and Klavier had uttered some sort of German idiom a few minutes previously. Or at least it sounded like an idiom, but Apollo couldn’t be entirely sure, given that it was in German. Not that a childhood in a foreign country was any excuse—you didn’t catch Apollo greeting everyone he met with “Hap’piraki!”

Klavier looked up. “Hm? Oh, nein. I spent two years there as part of a foreign exchange in high school. What about it?”

Apollo honestly couldn’t tell if Klavier was feigning obliviousness, or if he really just wasn’t self-aware at all. But given the lyrics to some of the Gavinners original songs, he suspected the latter.

Lyrics that Apollo continued to hear a lot of, because it seemed that whenever Klavier wasn’t in class or busy planning for their meeting, he was in the dorm quad, serenading passerby. Apollo had thought—hoped—that Klavier’s strange reaction to finding out that Apollo’s room was directly adjacent to his preferred concert venue might lead to a change in this habit, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Whatever it was that had caught Klavier off guard then, he seemed to have gotten over it, and idle guitar playing continued to be the soundtrack to Apollo’s homework.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Apollo called across the quad as he approached Klavier one evening. Klavier was alone at the picnic table now, picking out chords on his guitar and jotting things down in the notebook that rested beside him. He glanced up, saw Apollo, and snapped the notebook shut.

“Don’t you?” Klavier returned, smiling easily. “Since you said you lived here, I figured I would wait for you.” He stood and slung his guitar over his shoulder so it rested against his back, then picked up his bookbag and glanced at his watch. “Cutting it a little close, nein?”

“We have fifteen minutes! I’m fine!” Apollo protested. It wasn’t like they had anything to set up, anyway. The first meeting would mostly consist of taking down email addresses and doing some introductions—if anyone showed up.

Klavier laughed lightly as they left the quad and headed in the direction of the academic buildings.

“How did you do on Dent’s test?” he asked as they walked. Apollo sighed—the exams had been turned back yesterday.

“Mostly okay. The last one tripped me up a bit.”

Klavier hummed in the noncommittal way of someone who had decidedly not struggled with the last question but who didn’t want to say as much.

“Don’t rub it in,” Apollo grumbled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Klavier paused, then eyed him wryly. “Maybe you should have given my study music rec a chance.”

“Har, har.”

The classroom was empty when they arrived. Klavier shrugged his guitar off his shoulder and put it down in the corner, while Apollo watched with some suspicion.

“You look as though you worry I might burst into song at any moment,” Klavier noted, glancing at him and raising an eyebrow in amusement.  

“I think that’s justified,” Apollo replied.

“What can I say? It’s one of my passions,” Klavier said, sweeping back his bangs. “And you know, some of our future club members may want an impromptu concert.”

Apollo sighed, but that reminded him of something. “Speaking of which…are your band members coming?”

“Hm?”

“Well, they’re all going into law, too, right?” Apollo was a little uncertain about this. He had definitely heard something to that effect before—the entire theme of the Gavinners seemed to suggest as much—but he hadn’t ever seen another Gavinners member in any of his classes. Although to be fair, he wasn’t sure he would recognize the others in the first place, considering none of them spent all their free time rehearsing outside his window.

“Ach, yes, but they don’t plan to be lawyers. Daryan and Erik want to be detectives, and Sam is a policy studies major.”

Apollo raised one eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

Klavier shrugged. “They’re a good drummer.”

“Fair enough.”

Klavier turned to write IVY PRE-LAW SOCIETY on the chalkboard, while Apollo set out the sign-up sheet. Unfortunately, that task took him about two seconds, so left with nothing else to do but wait, he took to pacing in front of the classroom.

“We still have a few minutes, you know,” Klavier pointed out. He was leaning against the wall next to the chalkboard, completely relaxed.  “You can’t expect college students to be perfectly punctual.”

“I know,” Apollo sighed. “It’s just—”

He broke off when girl with brown hair tied back into thick braids poked her head through the doorway. “Um…is this the pre-law society?”

“Yes!” Apollo answered, perhaps a few decibels too loudly, because the girl jumped.

“You’re in the right place, fräulein,” Klavier added smoothly. “Could you sign in, please?”

She nodded, but ducked back out the door for a moment and called out, “Thena! It’s here!”

A redhead with a long ponytail suddenly appeared beside the first girl. “Coulda sworn 320 was down the other hallway,” she muttered, then looked up to grin brightly at Apollo and Klavier. “Heya! I’m Athena Cykes and this is Juniper Woods! We’re freshmen!”

Athena and Juniper filled out the sign-in sheet and took seats in the front.

“So, what brings you fräuleins here?” Klavier asked. “Lifelong interest in law, or was my advertising particularly effective?”

Apollo wanted to roll his eyes, but he was just happy they had a few prospective members already.

“I’ve always wanted to be a defense attorney!” Athena told him. “And Junie here—oh! Simon!”

Athena looked to the doorway, where a tall, black-clad student stood. Apollo realized that he recognized him; Simon Blackquill was a senior in the legal course. Apollo had never really spoken to him, but he was pretty sure they shared a few classes.

Athena seemed to know him, though, and after a moment of consideration, Simon silently took the desk next to her.

And as the clock over the door ticked past the posted meeting time, more students began to arrive. Some of them Apollo recognized, like Sebastian, a junior he knew from classes (and who he was pretty sure lived in his building) and, of course, his foster-brother Nahyuta (who was studying in the States for the year), who greeted him with a solemn nod before taking a seat in the second row. There were a few more freshmen who appeared to be friends with Juniper and Athena, and they chatted excitedly amongst themselves as the room filled up.

At about five past, and the trickle of people through the door slowed. There were only a few free desks left, and the sign-up sheet was almost completely full.

Apollo glanced at Klavier, wondering if he was going to start the meeting, but Klavier just met his eyes with a smile and a small nod. Go ahead, he seemed to say. Okay then.

Clearing his throat, Apollo turned to face the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

“Hey, everyone!” he said, his voice carrying over the chatter with ease. Everyone in the room turned to face him. “Uh. Hi, I’m Apollo Justice, and thanks so much for your interest in the Ivy Pre-law society! Since this is just the first meeting, we’ll mostly just give an overview…”

Apollo was busy addressing the assembled students, nervous enough that he wasn’t focused on anything else, so he didn’t notice Klavier off to his left, watching him speak and doing a poor job of concealing the small, fond smile on his lips.

Apollo wasn’t sure how it happened, but it came to be that somehow, he was starting to spend a lot of time with Klavier Gavin.

There were regular club meetings, of course, and then their weekly planning meetings, and they saw each other in class, but that wasn’t all. After they ran into each other in the library twice in one week, Klavier proposed they start studying together for their shared classes, and that became a Tuesday-Thursday tradition. Somehow, that had led to them both eating dinner together in the dining hall on those nights before walking over to the library together.

Clay took note, obviously, since at this point he was the only one left who had a greater share of Apollo’s time than Klavier did.

“Are you going to the Gavinners concert on Friday?” he asked one morning as they headed down to breakfast.

Apollo looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Why would I do that?”

“I dunno, kinda thought you guys were friends now? You hang out constantly.”

“That’s just because of the club,” Apollo said. “And class.” And…all those other times that weren’t either of those. Wait.

Clay smiled knowingly. “Yeah, okay. Well, I’m going to the concert, so let me know if you want to come with.”

 Apollo had brushed him off doubtfully, but here he was, winding through the library stacks in search of a particular book for a project, still thinking about that concert.

I don’t like the Gavinners’ music, so I shouldn’t go. Right? Right. Apollo knelt down to peer at the spines of the books near the floor, only to find he was still in the wrong aisle. But…

He felt…guilty? Was that it? Because he and Klavier had been hanging out a lot…but could he really admit to Clay, after months of complaining about Klavier’s guitar, that he was voluntarily going to a Gavinners concert?

He straightened up and was about to head off to another row of shelves when…

“Guten tag, Herr Forehead.” Apollo heard the lightly accented voice from somewhere in his vicinity and jumped.

“Over here, Apollo,” Klavier added, and finally Apollo could trace the voice to the other side of the shelf, where Klavier stood, leaning down so he could look through the space over the tops of the books.

“What did you call me?” Apollo asked.

Klavier chuckled. “All I could see from over here was your expansive forehead, Herr Forehead,” he explained.

Apollo poked his forehead with one finger and frowned, as if evaluating its expansiveness. “I thought you had class now.”

“Usually, ja. But the prof cancelled today, and I wondered if I could find you here.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?” Apollo asked, raising an eyebrow. He then realized that the motion might have an unfavorable effect on his “expansive forehead” and clamped it back down with effort.

“It wasn’t urgent,” Klavier responded. He straightened up and rounded the end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to peer through the stacks, then looked curiously at the section Apollo had been perusing. “Khura’inese?”

“I have to write a paper for my lit class,” Apollo explained.

“I didn’t realize you spoke Khura’inese.”

“Yep. Notice I don’t start breaking it out in conversations for no reason, Herr German.”

Klavier laughed. “Maybe you should. The fräuleins think it’s sexy.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to impress any fräuleins.”

Klavier shrugged, then met Apollo’s eye mischievously. “Sometimes it’s not just the fräuleins.”

Responding with only a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Apollo rounded the corner of the shelf and continued scanning the numbers.

Klavier laughed lightly. “Can I help you find your book?”

“Might as well,” Apollo grumbled. He read off the title and call number, and Klavier followed him around the corner.

“Ah, this one?”

Seriously? Apollo had been here for almost fifteen minutes. He turned around to see Klavier snagging a book from the top shelf, and was somewhat reluctant to admit that it was, indeed, the correct one.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the volume.

“Not at all,” Klavier responded. “And…are you free now? I had some ideas I wanted to run by you. They can wait til next week, but…”

Apollo looked down at his book. He had been planning to at least get a little reading done before class later, but…that could wait, couldn’t it?

“Sure. Just need to check this out.”

Klavier nodded and loped after him to the elevator.

“So…” Apollo began slowly as the elevator descended, wondering if he was making a mistake. “You have a concert on Friday, right?”

“Hm? Oh, ja. Our annual outdoor event. Quite the extravaganza.” Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs.

“I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned it.” Apollo would have expected that Klavier would have been busier than usual, but he had made every one of their formal and informal meetings so far that week.

Klavier looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I had reason to believe you wouldn’t be particularly interested.”

Okay, that made Apollo feel a little bad. “Oh. Um.”

Noticing his discomfort, Klavier just chuckled. “It’s okay, Herr Forehead. I know the Gavinners aren’t for everyone.”

“Well, it’s not…” The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, and Apollo was about to step out when he paused. “Wait, hold it. Are you making that a nickname now?”

“Whatever do you mean, Forehead?” Klavier stepped around him and turned to grace him with an innocent smile.

Following him off the elevator, Apollo scowled. “If I promise to come to your concert, will you stop calling me that?”

“Calling you what, exactly?” Klavier asked sweetly.

They had reached the front desk, so Apollo could only shoot him a look until he had finished checking out his book.

“What did you want to talk about?” Apollo asked as they left the library. Klavier held the door, then fell into step beside him as the two of them turned down the path towards the Vine.

“Our next big event,” Klavier said. “I have ideas.”

“Surprised you have time to think about that,” Apollo said, then elaborated when Klavier gave him a questioning look: “With the concert coming up and all. I would’ve thought you’d be busy.”

Klavier snapped his fingers. “Never too busy to spend time on my true passion. Music is but my mistress, Apollo.”

“…right.”

 “Anyway, I want to get the ball rolling as soon as possible, so our big event of the year can really rock.”

“And this big event is…?”

“A mock trial, of course,” Klavier told him, with another finger snap. “It probably won’t happen until next semester, but it will take a lot of preparations, so I would like to start brainstorming early.”

Apollo nodded, already thinking about the sorts of things they would need to prepare. “Good idea.”

They had arrived at the Vine, so they paused their conversation to order drinks and find a table.

“I want to set up a basic structure before we bring the rest of the club in,” Klavier said once they were seated. “After that, we can all work together to fill in the blanks.”

“Sounds good. I’m guessing you’ve done this kind of thing before, at Themis?”

Klavier nodded. “Ja, but we’re on a different level now. I want to make this as educational and entertaining as possible.”

“Entertaining?” Apollo started to say doubtfully, but he was interrupted when—

“Apollo!”

Apollo jumped in his seat as Clay crashed into the seat next to him.

“You have a basic understanding of organic chemistry, right?”

“What? No! I definitely don’t!”

“Great. Well consider—” Clay launched into a brief lecture consisting of seventy percent words Apollo didn’t know and frankly never wanted to hear again—“and I think that’s a perfectly valid way to build the molecule, but Ema…”

Apollo realized that there was someone standing behind Clay, shaking her head as she listened to his rant.

“Fräulein Skye, it’s been a while,” Klavier piped up, and she started.

“Fop. What are you doing here?”

“Well, as far as I’ve been made aware, the Vine is open for any student to patronize, nein?” he asked. Ema only rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Clay had snagged one of Apollo’s napkins and was drawing furiously. He flipped the series of benzene rings around so Ema could see it.

“Okay, but what is wrong with this?”

“Nothing,” Ema sighed. “But it isn’t feasible. The reaction coefficient is huge, it would take a century.”

Clay’s eyes widened. “Oh! Okay! So what about…” He scribbled out a few steps of the synthesis and redrew them. “…like this!”

Ema considered it. “Yeah…yeah that would work. Huh.”

“Yes!” Clay pumped his fist. “Thanks for your help, Apollo.”

“What?”

“Ughhhh I’m so ready to be done with this class,” Clay moaned, draping himself over the table.

“We’re only halfway through the semester,” Apollo pointed out. He noticed that Klavier was smiling amusedly from behind his coffee mug and decided he should probably explain the loud addition to their table. “This is my roommate. Clay Terran.”

“I figured as much,” Klavier laughed.

“Oh! Klav Gav!” Clay exclaimed suddenly, bursting up from the table. “You need to help me get Pollo to come to your concert with me.”

“Already on it, Herr Terran,” Klavier replied with a little salute.

“Wait, so you do want me to come? You weren’t even going to bring it up!” Apollo protested.

“I won’t deny that I would be glad for your presence, Forehead.”

“Forehead?” Clay cut in. “Is that—”

“Oh, no,” Apollo said.

“No, it’s perfect though! You’re always doing that thing…” Clay poked his forehead with one finger and scowled in what Apollo hoped was an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. But Klavier laughed out loud, which wasn’t encouraging.

“Oh, Ema!” Klavier said suddenly. Ema had started to sidle away from the table; now she paused and narrowed her eyes.

“No ‘fräulein’? You must want a favor.”

“Nothing you won’t enjoy, I promise. But we can discuss later, I’ll send you an email.”

Ema sighed resignedly. “Whatever.”

“How do you know Ema?” Clay asked, once Ema had made her escape.

“We had a few classes together, one of the years I spent in Germany,” Klavier explained.

“Oh, cool. She’s my lab partner,” Clay said, for Apollo’s benefit as well, since he didn’t know Ema. “And she’s really smart! But she does not stop talking about forensic science? Like the other day in lab, we were supposed to be making this compound—lidoquinine—and she kept mentioning how there’s a more toxic analogue, atri…afro…”

“Atroquinine?” Klavier guessed. “We wrote a song about it,” he explained, when Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Right! Yeah!” Clay said. “Atroquinine. But I guess there’s a sort of reaction you can use to detect it, so she was wondering if it was the same with the compound we were making…it was interesting, but like…we have a time limit, you know?”

“I take it you are not going into forensic science?” Klavier asked.

“Oh, no. I’m going to space.” He always said it like that, like he was in fact headed there imminently.

“Was forensic science what you wanted to ask her about?” Apollo asked Klavier.

Klavier nodded. “She’s an expert in evidence. Could give our trial some added realism.”

Apollo nodded in agreement, and Clay looked between the two of them curiously. “Trial?”

“A mock trial,” Apollo explained. “For the club.”

“Ohh, cool, so you guys are gonna face off? Like that bird guy and the Kleenex guy do in court?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that his name is Phoenix Wright?” Apollo asked in exasperation. Klavier, for his part, was stifling laughter. “And Kleenex guy? Really?”

“It’s a lot more fun to see your reaction when I call him bird guy,” Clay said. Apollo sighed.

“And, no, not necessarily,” he added, glancing at Klavier. “I’m not sure how we’ll decide who’s actually going to defend and prosecute.”

“A vote, probably,” Klavier put in. “That’s something else we’ll need to figure out.”

“Sounds cool! Let me know if you need any space expertise. Oh! Or someone to play the victim! I could totally be a dead guy.” Clay got a distant look in his eye, as if he considered that acting as a murder victim might really be his calling.

“We’ll let you know,” Apollo said doubtfully.

They chatted for a few more minutes, Clay regaling them with the grisly details of his hypothetical murder, until he and Klavier both had classes to get to.

“We will find a way to get you to that concert, Apollo,” Clay threatened as his parting words, and Apollo couldn’t help feel a little worried at the sight of him and Klavier walking off in the same direction conspiratorially.

With another hour before his next class, Apollo stayed at the table and took out his book. If he didn’t get started on reading soon, his essay would provide him quite the reasonable excuse to not attend the concert, but he didn’t really want to let his procrastination get to that point.

~~~~

Apollo was starting to feel cornered. Clay and Klavier were bad enough, but when he sat down next to Nahyuta in Khura’inese lit that afternoon, the first thing his foster brother asked him was whether or not he was going to the Gavinners concert on Friday.

“Yeah, I might,” Apollo admitted. Nahyuta looked puzzled.

“Why are you pretending you don’t want to go? You and Klavier seem to get along very well.”

His voice was as neutral as it always was, but you don’t spend ten formative years of your life with someone without learning how to tell when they’re teasing you.

“Are you going?” Apollo asked, deflecting, and Nahyuta chuckled.

“I think it would be a valuable cultural experience,” Nahyuta said, looking at him sideways. Apollo almost snorted.

“Valuable cultural experience, sure. Don’t let Klavier hear you say that.”

Nahyuta only smiled. “From what I can tell, you will be quite in the minority if you don’t go.”

“No kidding,” Apollo sighed. Maybe it was just the illusion of frequency, but Apollo felt like he was overhearing conversations about the concert everywhere he went lately. How did a college band get this popular in the first place, anyway? “Yeah, I’ll probably go. If only to avoid whatever plans Clay has to drag me there.”

So, in the interest of nipping any elaborate schemes in the bud, on Friday afternoon Apollo told his roommate that he would be attending the concert after all. Clay was pleased, but Apollo caught a faint sense of disappointment that assured him he had made the right decision.

The concert was being held in one of the open fields next to the rec center—Clay and Apollo only had to follow the stream of students on their way there. The sun was low in the sky, but it wasn’t dark yet—Apollo wondered faintly how late the concert would go.

When Apollo saw the stage, decorated with an enormous stylized G, he started having second thoughts.

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “He’s smart? He’s a perfectly pleasant, normal person most of the time, so why? Why is his band named after him? Why do they use so many legal metaphors? Why are they so popular?”

“You know you’re saying all that out loud, right?” Clay asked. Apollo scowled. “Come on, they’re good. The songs are all really catchy, you just don’t know that because you only ever hear the acoustic versions.”

Apollo only frowned doubtfully, looking sideways at a fan walking by. The guy was sporting a Gavinners t-shirt.

“And where do they get all this merch, anyway?” Apollo grumbled. He could do without Klavier’s face smirking at him from the chests of passersby, thank you very much. “It’s so…gaudy.”

Clay laughed. “Don’t be jealous, I’ll buy you one before we leave.”

“You will not,” Apollo replied sternly.

“You can even get Klavier Gavin to sign it for you.”

“Stop calling him by his full name.”

“Hey, since you and Klavier Gavin are friends do you think we can get backstage?”

“There’s no backstage! This is the intramural sports field!”

Clay only laughed. “Come on, let’s try to get close.”

“Clay…” Apollo complained, eyeing the dense crowd that was already forming near the stage, but when Clay heedlessly plunged into the throng, Apollo could do little else but grab hold of his friend’s sleeve to avoid getting left behind.

“Perfect!” Clay proclaimed once they had elbowed their way to the front, a bit to the right of center stage. Apollo, mournfully noting the enormous speaker only a few feet away from them, wasn’t sure he agreed.

It was already loud here, with the people pressing in around them, and Apollo was starting to wonder if he should have just used his essay as an excuse all along. Just as he was thinking there might be a way he could somehow slip away and watch the concert from a safe distance, the speakers crackled and the crowd’s incoherent babbling turned into cheering.

“ACHTUNG, BABY!” Klavier’s voice assaulted Apollo’s eardrums from the nearby speaker, but the stage was still, at this moment, empty. “IVY, ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?”

The cheers grew in volume, and the Gavinners stepped out onto the stage.

They launched into their first song immediately, but the resigned sigh that Apollo had prepared died somewhere in his throat.

The chains and rings, he was used to that. The hair twist, gelled and sprayed to perfection, was nothing new. Klavier was wearing a little more eyeliner than usual, fine.

But the crop top…

 “I told you you’d want to be here,” Clay said in his ear, nudging him and snapping him out of his thoughts, which had started to prominently feature Klavier’s abs.

Apollo went red. “Wha…I…”

Clay made an expression that was probably supposed to be a wink, but they both knew he couldn’t wink, so it was more of an exaggerated closing of both eyes. Apollo elbowed him and made a valiant effort to look anywhere but the rectangle of skin between the hem of Klavier’s shirt and his ridiculous chain belt.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Klavier said as the first song finished, and the crowd erupted in cheers. He grinned and his eyes swept over the field, and for a moment, his gaze landed on Apollo. Their eyes met, and Klavier’s widened the slightest bit. Then, just for a second, his lips spread into a smile that was different than the thousand-watt grin he was projecting to the crowd—something genuine and pleasantly surprised.

He ruined it almost immediately with a conspiratorial wink, then launched into the rest of his introduction, mentioning the university and the charities that any merch sales would support, and thanking the volunteers who helped set everything up.

“Achtung! Let’s keep this party going!” Klavier called at the end of his short speech. “This one goes out to any aspiring forensic scientists out there!”

The band launched into what Apollo assumed was the aforementioned song about atroquinine, and Apollo wondered, doubtfully, if Ema was in attendance to hear it.

The sky darkened as the concert really got started, and purple and white spotlights flashed to life on the stage. Clay was dancing and singing along, so Apollo was often treated to a strange duet of Klavier’s voice from the speaker on his right and Clay belting out lyrics on his left. Sometimes, Apollo noted, the two didn’t match up, which was unsurprising; Clay was notorious for unintentionally rewriting songs. Apollo felt a bit out of place not knowing any of the words, but he had to admit that he wasn’t having a terrible time. He just might have preferred some control over the volume.

But Klavier—Klavier looked like he was having the time of his life. When he wasn’t singing or focusing on a complicated guitar riff, he was positively beaming out at the crowd, and that mood was infectious. Everyone was having a good time because he was, and even Apollo, Professional Grump, found it difficult to not get caught up in the atmosphere. Not quite to the point that he joined in when Klavier held the mic out for the audience during the final chorus of Guilty Love, but he had to smile a little, just at seeing how thrilled Klavier was.

Guilty Love concluded with a flurry of drumbeats and a screech of guitars. As the applause and cheers mounted, Klavier bowed and waved, soaking up the attention. Apollo clapped modestly.

“Stay cool, Ivy!!” Klavier called. Then, as he turned to leave the stage, his eyes fell to Apollo’s—he nodded his head towards backstage, invitingly.

“Cl—” Apollo began, only to realize that his friend had disappeared. When had that happened? He checked his phone, but there weren’t any messages; shrugging, he pushed through the crowd to a line of yellow tape, which marked out the edges of the audience. Glancing around but seeing no one who might yell at him—for what? Trespassing on the intramural sports field?—he ducked under it.

As Apollo had predicted, there wasn’t much of a backstage, just some stacked equipment boxes and trampled grass. But he still didn’t see Klavier right away—there were a number of people in EVENT STAFF shirts milling around, and Apollo saw the Gavinners drummer, but—

“Forehead!! You came!”

An arm was thrown around Apollo’s shoulder, and suddenly he found himself pressed up against a very sweaty Klavier Gavin.

“Hey,” Apollo said uncertainly, stumbling a little under the weight of the exuberant musician. “Good job.”

“Danke—”

“…you managed to keep all your guitars intact,” Apollo finished, side-eying him. Klavier gasped.

“Herr Forehead is too cruel!” he cried. He leaned a little more on Apollo, miming a dramatic swoon.

Automatically, Apollo raised an arm to Klavier’s back to steady the two of them—his brain caught up a second later, but by that point his hand was already clasping Klavier’s waist. His bare, slightly sweaty, waist. Um.

A brief internal debate ensued—is this weird? Are we at this point?—but Klavier didn’t seem to mind, and indeed he was the one currently draping himself over Apollo, so Apollo tried to ignore the sensation of Klavier’s hip shifting under his fingers, and resorted to the simplest way to continue the conversation—making fun of the Gavinners.

He turned his head slightly. “Sorry, could you talk into this ear? I think that one went a bit deaf.”

“Oh, shush,” Klavier replied, but he laughed. “Can I make it up to you by inviting you to the afterparty?”

“Afterparty?”

“Ja! Give me a minute, I need to grab my things.” Klavier squeezed Apollo briefly and released him, heading back towards the stage.

Apollo took the moment to text Clay, who had apparently ended up by the merch booth—Apollo hoped he wouldn’t return to their room to find Gavinners posters plastering the walls. He mentioned the party, but Clay told him to go ahead without him.

A few minutes turned into five, then ten. Apollo watched as Klavier moved from picking up his guitar case to subsequently putting it back down again, then to helping one of the event staff put away some sound equipment, and when that was done, he got caught up in steadying a ladder for someone, and on and on with various tasks until it had been nearly half an hour.

“Sorry!” Klavier said, finally breaking away from the bustle around the stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean for that to take so long. Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Apollo said. A note of hesitation must have snuck into his voice, because Klavier’s brows drew together.

“Something wrong?”

“No, just…I probably won’t know anyone.” Apollo wasn’t a big partier, and usually Clay was around when he did go out.

“You know me,” Klavier countered.

“Yeah, but all your friends…”

Klavier didn’t answer right away, and Apollo looked up to see that he looked a little confused.

“Apollo…” he said slowly, “outside of Gavinners rehearsals, I really spend more time with you than anyone else.”

Apollo blinked. He knew that he spent a lot of time with Klavier, but he didn’t have a huge friend group in the first place. For some reason, despite the fact that Klavier spent exactly as much time with him as he spent with Klavier, he had assumed that Klavier had a huge circle of friends, or fans…something. He was popular, right?

“Oh.”

“So, party? I promise I won’t fly off to my adoring fans as soon as we arrive.”

“Yeah, okay.” Apollo rolled his eyes. “Where is it?” he asked as they walked, crossing the empty part of the field and

“The Gavinners’ house,” Klavier replied, as if it was obvious.

“The Gavinners’…house?”

“We all split the rent of a house right off campus,” Klavier said.

Apollo frowned. “Wait, you don’t live in the dorms?”

“Hm? Nein, why?”

“…you’re always in our quad!”

“Ah, it’s a good venue, shall I say?”

“So you walk all the way to our quad just to play the guitar?” Apollo asked, skeptical.

“You can’t beat good acoustics,” Klavier said, brushing his fingers through his bangs.

Apollo’s steps faltered. “What was that?”

“Good acoustics? The way the buildings are arranged…”

Klavier was saying something about how the dorms made a sort of amphitheater, but Apollo was only half listening. For some reason, he had felt a slight twinge from the bracelet on his left wrist. He had never quite understood it, but that always seemed to happen when someone was hiding something from him, and it had been doing so long enough and reliably enough that he was reasonably certain it wasn't his imagination.

Besides, what could Klavier be hiding in a discussion about acoustics? Shrugging, Apollo chalked the feeling up to a weird cramp and followed Klavier the rest of the way to the Gavinners’ house.

The Gavinners’ house was just across the street from campus, so Apollo and Klavier weren’t walking for long before they arrived. It was a small house, two stories but narrow, tucked in next to other similar buildings that were largely rented by students. It was, however, set apart by the purple-and-black Gavinners flag hanging over the door. Apollo wondered how Klavier didn’t get tired of seeing that logo on everything he owned. 

He could hear a faint thrum of bass from inside, so apparently, the party had started without them. Swallowing a faint pang of nervousness, Apollo followed Klavier inside—big parties really weren’t his thing, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

The house was dimly lit, and the music got louder when they stepped inside, but it wasn’t exactly the rave that Apollo was half-expecting. A handful of people seemed to be dancing in the living room, but otherwise, students were scattered throughout the rooms and hallways, chatting or bobbing to the music, red cups in their hands. Apollo thought he recognized a few of them from his classes.

“What held you up, dude?” said a voice, and Apollo turned to see the Gavinners guitarist—Daryan, he recalled.

“Just helping out with a few things,” Klavier responded. “There are a lot of people here, are you guys checking IDs?”

Daryan rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Dar—”

“Erik’s got it under control, relax.” Daryan punched his arm.

“You’re…carding people at your house party?” Apollo asked.

“Ja?” Klavier responded as if this should be obvious. Daryan snorted into his drink.

“Anyway, you’re Apollo, right?” he asked. “Daryan Crescend. Klav never shuts up about you, I was wondering when I’d actually see you in real life.”

Klavier laughed nervously. “Dar…”

“Anyway, bro, I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Ja…”

Apollo dearly wanted to ask, but couldn’t quite find the right words. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“So, uh. Daryan’s…exaggerating,” Klavier said, tugging on his earring. He was so obviously lying that Apollo could have laughed, if he wasn’t so distracted by what the lie meant. He talks about me?? “Anyway, I wanted to give you something, come on.”

They edged around a few groups of people and started up the stairs. At the top, Apollo didn’t have to guess which door led to Klavier’s room—it was decorated with a silver-painted Gavinners G.

Klavier’s small room was a study in organized clutter. There were books everywhere, overflowing from a tiny shelf and stacked up on the floors. A strange box—on closer inspection, a record player—sat somewhat precariously on the top of the short bookshelf, accompanied by a stack of records. The desk had two large monitors, along with a recording mic. And of course, there were guitars, three of them, set aside from the rest of the clutter—Klavier placed his case next to them.  The walls were obscured by album covers, a Gavinners pennant, and scattered photographs. Apollo realized he recognized Kristoph Gavin in some of them.

Klavier told him he could sit, but the only available chair was stacked with books, so Apollo leaned gingerly against the charcoal gray bedspread instead. An enormous Blue Badger plush smiled down at him.

Kneeling down, Klavier started digging through a bin on the floor, emerging with a plastic CD case. He held it out to Apollo.

“Consider it your reward for enduring an hour of the Gavinners,” he said. “I think you might like it.”

Apollo took the case and raised an eyebrow at the red lettering on the cover. “Jangly Jove?”

“Quite the stage name, ja? But he’s good, trust me. I’d offer you the vinyl, but…”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to point out that you had the vinyl.”

Klavier laughed. “You got me.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll check it out.”

Klavier nodded in satisfaction. “Great.” He paused. “Um, I’m kind of gross, so I’m going to change, but if you want to go grab a drink I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Apollo turned to go, but his eye caught on one of the pictures on the wall.

“What is it?” Klavier asked.

“Oh, sorry. Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a casual picture of Kristoph Gavin before.”

“Ahaha, he can relax sometimes,” Klavier said, coming closer to see the picture Apollo was talking about. “Or he pretends to. There’s a very subtle difference.”

“Huh.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Klavier asked, turning to look at Apollo instead of the picture.

“Not any biological ones,” Apollo responded. “Just Yuty.”

Klavier’s brow creased. “Yuty…?”

“You know him as Nahyuta,” Apollo clarified. He used to be somewhat embarrassed to reveal his whole, weird, convoluted, definitely-not-normal life story to people, but he had learned over the years to accept it for what it was and find some amusement in people’s reactions instead. “He’s my foster brother.”

“But he’s from…”

“The Kingdom of Khura’in, yeah. I grew up there.”

“And here I was wondering how it seemed you two knew each other so well,” Klavier said, his laugh touched with disbelief. “Now the Khura’inese lit makes more sense.”

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” Apollo said, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe one for a time when you’re not supposed to be enjoying your afterparty.” He didn’t really want to get into the details now—revealing the childhood in Khura’in could be fun, but addressing the events that lead to that circumstance, less so. Dead, mysterious parents tended to bring down the mood, and Apollo couldn’t stand the look of pity that revealing that information tended to elicit.

Klavier blinked, as if he had completely forgotten about the party downstairs. “Right. I was going to change.”

“See you down there,” Apollo said, closing the door behind him.

He made his way down the stairs, but only got a little ways down the hallway before he ran into someone he recognized.

“Ema?”

The woman turned. “Oh, hey. Apollo, right?”

“Yeah. What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?” He had gotten the impression that she wasn’t Klavier’s biggest fan.

She laughed. “I’m friends with Sam.” The drummer, Apollo recalled. “Plus, free Snackoos.” She tilted her cup to reveal that instead of a drink, it was filled with snacks.

“So, you and Klavier, huh?” Ema went on. “I have to say, I’m impressed with the fop. You don’t seem like the type to be so easily seduced.”

Apollo blinked. “What? Oh! Um. We’re not—I mean, we’re just—”

“Oh, really? Clay sort of implied you were. Huh.”

Embarrassment forgotten, now Apollo was just suspicious. He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you guys do in those four-hour labs? Gossip?”

She shrugged. “Distillation takes a while. But really, you’re not together? Coulda fooled me.”

Apollo’s brow creased. Sure, he had entertained notions of—well, Klavier was attractive. He was pleasant to be around, despite Apollo’s initial apprehensions. But even if Apollo thought that, Klavier was an entirely different matter. He had never done anything to suggest to Apollo that he thoughts of him as anything more than a friend. Apollo wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Did he?

“Ah, fräulein, what a pleasure!” an unmistakable voice interrupted. Ema sighed.

“Don’t get any ideas, fop. I’m not here to see you.”

“Ja, I know. Sam and Snackoos, right?” Klavier said. “Hey, we didn’t really get a chance to catch up earlier, though. Kay’s still abroad, right?”

Ema nodded. “Zheng Fa this semester. Hope you weren’t counting on Little Thief to kick your mock trial up a notch.”

 “The thought had crossed my mind,” Klavier admitted. “Have you thought about the trial, then?’

“Yeah, I think I can help you out. Just let me know what you need.”

“Will do. Danke, fräulein.”

“Actually,” Ema amended. “I can help you out on the condition that you stop calling me that.”

Klavier laughed. “Understood, Ema.”

“And save the fluttering eyelashes for”—her eyes glanced to Apollo—“someone else.”

“Ach, I’m not sure I can promise to control my fluttering eyelashes,” Klavier said easily. “They have a mind of their own, you see.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go find Sam.”

“I believe I saw them in the living room,” Klavier told her, and she nodded and walked off.

“I see Ema managed to intercept you before you found your way to the drinks,” Klavier noted, turning to Apollo. He was wearing one of his regular V-neck shirts now, and he seemed to have fixed up his hair a bit. “Shall we?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Apollo was still a little distracted by Ema’s insinuations, especially now that Klavier had returned. He tried to force the thought out of his mind as he presented his driver’s license (“Klavier you know I’m 21—”) in exchange for a beer.

For a while, Apollo just followed Klavier as he made his rounds of the party. But with Ema’s hypotheses swimming in his head—buoyed along, perhaps, by a tide of alcohol—Apollo found himself overthinking Klavier’s tiniest actions. The arm thrown around his shoulder when Klavier introduced him to someone—that was just because he was a tactile person, right? The same went for when he grasped Apollo’s arm when he laughed, and when he leaned a little closer than necessary to be heard over the volume of the music. It wasn’t like they were holding hands.

And Apollo wasn’t disappointed about that, he told himself. How could he be? He hadn’t even thought about Klavier that way before Ema mentioned it. Or he had, but not seriously. Not for more than a few minutes. And that didn’t mean anything—Klavier was gorgeous, of course he had thought about…well, it would be weirder if he hadn’t, right?

“Having fun?”

Klavier’s voice was close to his ear. Apollo jumped.

“Uh…yeah?” Apollo replied. A strand of Klavier’s hair tickled his neck.

“You do not sound very sure, Herr Forehead.”

“I…” Apollo tried to think of a something to say that would make him sound sure, but he came up blank.

“Maybe you want to dance?” Klavier waggled his eyebrows and swayed a little to the beat of the music.

Apollo cast a dubious glance towards the small crowd occupying the middle of the living room, moving in time with the music blaring from the speakers in the corner. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on, I saw you at the concert.” There was an amused glimmer in Klavier’s eyes. “I can’t blame you—Atroquinine My Love has quite the infectious beat.”

Apollo held up a finger in objection. “I wasn’t dancing—everyone else was. I was trying not to get elbowed.”

“Ah, I see. So if there were some elbows to dodge…”

“No one’s stopping you from dancing,” Apollo pointed out, edging out of elbowing range.

“You’re very right,” Klavier said, and promptly started moving with the music.

“I didn’t mean here,” Apollo added. They were a good fifteen feet from the impromptu dance floor that had formed in the center of the living room.

“Ah, Herr Forehead, you’re forgetting,” Klavier said, leaning closer for a moment. “This is my party—the dancing will come to me.”

Sure enough, within minutes the cluster in the living room had not only migrated to where Klavier and Apollo stood, but it had also grown. And someone had switched the playlist over to the Gavinners.

Apollo didn’t consider himself to be good at dancing, but somehow, Klavier made it easy. He seemed to be having so much fun, and, much like at the concert, it was nearly impossible not to get swept up in it. Of course, he was much closer than he had been at the concert, so it was much easier to notice the strands of blond hair that started to unravel from Klavier’s twist as he moved, and the pink flush that rose to his cheeks…not that Apollo was really focused on those things, or on the way Klavier would briefly clasp his waist, or touch his shoulder, in a way that didn’t quite imply they were dancing together, but which also didn’t exclude the possibility.

And if anyone asked, the alcohol Apollo had consumed was entirely to blame for the warm tingle he felt in his chest when Klavier leaned in to sing some lyrics in his ear, thank you very much.

~~~

By three a.m. the party had thinned, and the music had turned to something quieter and New Wave-y. Apollo found himself on the lumpy couch in the living room, staring contemplatively at his empty Solo cup.

“Tired?” Klavier plopped down beside him, rocking Apollo slightly. “You can crash here if you want.”

“Nah, I’ll go back. It’s not too far.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Apollo turned to look at him. Klavier was lounging in the corner of the couch, one arm thrown over the back of it.

“You really don’t have to.”

Klavier shrugged. “I still have a lot of energy. It’ll probably help me calm down.”

“Whatever you want to do,” Apollo said. He took a deep breath and heaved himself off the couch. “Okay. I should go.”

The two of them walked in silence for a while, until they made it back to the campus proper and cut between some buildings to reach Apollo’s dorm.

“So, uh…see you tomorrow?” Apollo said, pausing by the card reader.

“Today,” Klavier pointed out, tapping his watch.

“Ah, right.” Apollo rubbed his neck and was about to say good night when Klavier spoke again.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “To the concert, and the party. I really…I really enjoyed your company.”

“Oh.” It took Apollo a moment to realized that the tiny exclamation was probably not a suitable response. “I mean. Um. I had a good time. Really. And thanks for the CD.”

Klavier smiled. “I hope you like it. Gute Nacht, Apollo.”

“Goodnight, Klavier.”

When Apollo returned to the room, it was dark except for the bluish glow of a computer screen.

“You’re still up?” he asked Clay, surprised.

“Huh?” Clay pulled off his headphones and looked up. Tilting his head to see the screen, Apollo saw the words: QUIZ: WHICH POTENTIALLY LIFE-SUPPORTING EXTRASOLAR PLANET ARE YOU? “Oh, hey! How was the afterparty?”

Apollo shrugged. “It was good. A party. Kinda surprised you didn’t want to come.”

Clay shrugged. “Well, I know I’m a good wingman, but I didn’t want to step over the line into third-wheeling, y’know?”

Apollo, about to collapse into his bed, paused. “Uh, no. I don’t know. What have you been telling Ema about me and Klavier?”

“I haven’t been telling her anything. We’ve been mutually developing theories. Hypotheses, if you will, in the spirit of organic chemistry lab.”

“Well, cut it out. Klavier and I are friends.” Now that Klavier wasn’t in the same room and the buzz of alcohol had faded, Apollo found it much easier to say this with confidence.

Clay turned away from his computer to look Apollo in the eye. “Come on, Apollo. You couldn’t take your eyes off him tonight.”

“That doesn’t—I—it’s a concert! You’re supposed to watch the performers!” Apollo sputtered.

“Hm, okay,” Clay said airily. Apollo narrowed his eyes, but he was too tired to really protest.  

“We’re just friends,” he repeated, as much to himself as to Clay.

“Mmhm.”

Thankfully, Apollo was spared further interrogation when Clay returned his gaze to his computer and got the results to his quiz.

“What!?” Clay threw his hands up in the air with a gasp of exasperation. “1-d? I’m totally TRAPPIST-1f. Apollo you need to take this, too…”

By the end of the weekend, Apollo had thoroughly reassured himself that all his confused thoughts about Klavier had entirely been the product of beer and the meddling of Clay and Ema. He and Klavier were friends, Apollo told himself, and that wasn’t about to change just because Klavier had worn a crop top one time.

Klavier himself helped convince him, though indirectly. Apollo spent Sunday afternoon doing homework to a soundtrack of acoustic Gavinners songs.

“It’s been two hours,” he moaned finally, laying his head down on his desk. “How does he even have enough material to play for two hours.”

Clay, lounging on his bed with a physics textbook, looked up. “Just text him, Pollo.”

“If I tell him to stop, he’ll be all mopey tomorrow,” Apollo sighed, without lifting his head. “And I’d like at least one of my study sessions before Thursday to be productive.”

Thursday, the day of Dent’s midterm exam. Apollo also had other tests that week, but none were looming quite as ominously as that one. He and Klavier had already agreed to spend a lot of time in the library—Apollo made a mental note to ask how Klavier even found time for two hours of guitar strumming.

And given the circumstances—midterms week—the executive members of the Ivy Pre-Law Society decided, not unselfishly, that it would be best to hold a group study session instead of their regular meeting.

The freshmen were all clustered around a table strewn with notes and flashcards, quizzing each other and posing frantic questions to Sebastian, who had been roped in as an impromptu TA. Nahyuta and Simon were apparently partners for a project in one of their shared classes, so they were huddled together at a table in the corner, debating the merits of legal systems in different countries both out loud and in the Google Doc that they were editing simultaneously. This left Apollo and Klavier, for whom the meeting was now just like one of their regular study sessions, if not a little noisier.

“Hey, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said suddenly, looking up from his computer screen.

“Hm?”

“Need a job?” Klavier turned his laptop around so Apollo could see the screen, which showed an open email.

Klavier, it read, I am looking to hire a part-time assistant for paperwork around the office. A good experience for an aspiring lawyer. Please forward the opportunity to your club. Regards,

Kristoph Gavin had allowed his automatic email signature to fill in the rest. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Does he always end his emails with ‘regards’?”

“Only if he’s in a good mood. But what do you think? Would you like to work for the Coolest Defense in the West?”

Is that even a question?! Apollo opened his mouth to answer, then paused. “Don’t you think you should let everyone know?” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

“Ah, you’re right, of course,” Klavier replied. He turned his computer back around and typed out a brief message, and a moment later, Apollo’s computer alerted him that he had a new email from the IPLS listserv.

It took great self-control to keep focusing on studying after that, instead of starting to polish up his resume immediately. And on Thursday evening, with Dent’s test and this round of midterms finally behind him, Apollo pushed aside his exhaustion and started composing a cover letter.

            Apollo: hey can you look over this? File attached.

            Klavier: is that really fair, forehead? using your inside connections? ;)

          Apollo: …i’m asking for proofreading, not your ringing endorsement

Klavier didn’t respond for a few minutes, and it occurred to Apollo that it was pretty late for a weekday—just a little past one. Maybe Klavier had fallen asleep—

            Klavier: looks great! …except for the typo in the third line.

Oops. Apollo hurriedly corrected the mistake.

            Apollo: clay missed that one… thanks

            Klavier: you’re welcome. and for the record, i would give that ringing endorsement, but i’m positive you don’t need it. best of luck, 4head~

            Apollo: Nope. No. forehead is bad enough. but thanks.

            Klavier: fair enough. it already comes up in autocomplete anyway…

Apollo was beyond tired now, but there was something he had been wondering, and since he and Klavier were already talking…

            Apollo: did you ever work for kristoph?

            Klavier: ha. no, you know i don’t want to be a defense attorney.

            Apollo: yeah, but paperwork is paperwork. it’s experience, anyway.

            Klavier: i just can’t imagine working for him. as his brother, you know?

            Klavier: can you imagine working for nahyuta?

            Apollo: yeah i guess not…idk i guess i’m just trying to imagine what he’s like in person.

There was something else, too. Klavier mentioned his brother easily enough, but never in more than just a passing remark. He never seemed eager to dwell on the subject, or at least that was the impression Apollo got. Apollo wouldn’t go so far as to say he thought there was any animosity between the brothers, but they didn’t exactly seem to be best friends.

Then again, he couldn’t exactly say he and Nahyuta were close, either—they had been, but the intervening years and oceans had dampened that relationship somewhat. It was nice to have him around this year, but Nahyuta was making his own friends at Ivy, and he and Apollo didn’t hang out much outside of classes and club meetings.

Still, he was curious. He had been nervous to meet Phoenix Wright in person, but looking back, the famous lawyer’s personality outside of the courtroom wasn’t too far off from how it was at the bench. But if the same held true for Kristoph Gavin…well, Apollo was more than a little apprehensive at the prospect of working for the Coolest Defense in the West. 

But he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even sent the resume yet.

He ended up sending the email the next morning, not trusting himself to catch any stray typos at 2 a.m. He didn’t really expect to hear back right away, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it, and anxiously checking his phone for missed messages and new emails after every class.

But as 6 p.m. drew closer, Apollo resigned himself to the fact that he probably wouldn’t hear anything until next week, at the earliest. Until, at quarter of, his phone rang.

“Apollo Justice,” he answered, after almost dropping his phone in his rush to answer.

“Mr. Justice, this is Reese from Gavin Law Offices. I’m calling to see if you would be able to interview…”

When Apollo got off the phone a few minutes later, he didn’t feel capable of much of anything besides collapsing on his bed and staying there for a minute. He had an interview with Gavin Law Offices.

Then his stomach grumbled, and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Hauling himself out of bed, he grabbed his keys and phone and headed out to the dining hall, texting Clay on the way down the stairs to see if he was out of his afternoon lab.

It was a testament to how preoccupied Apollo’s potential future employment had made him that he hadn’t even noticed that someone was playing guitar in the quad until he stepped out the door and saw Klavier there on his usual picnic table.

“Klavier!” he called, without even meaning to. Klavier looked up and nodded a greeting, bringing his song to a premature end. Apollo started across the quad.

“I got an interview!” he exclaimed when he was still a few yards away, unable to hold the news in. Klavier’s eyes lit up.

“I’m not surprised,” he said, when Apollo reached the picnic table. “But congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Apollo still couldn’t really believe it, and he was trying not to get ahead of himself. The anxiety over the actual interview would set in soon enough, he was sure.

“In fact, I think I should play a little something to congrat—” Klavier began, raising his guitar.

“Not necessary,” Apollo rushed to say, pushing the guitar back down into Klavier’s lap. “Wanna grab dinner? I think Clay’s on his way back from lab.”

“Ja, of course.” Klavier stood and bid farewell to his little circle of fans (whom Apollo had almost forgotten about in his excitement) and followed Apollo out of the quad.

“Okay, but now I need tips,” Apollo said as they walked. It was too much to hope that nervousness about the interview could wait until at least after dinner. “How do I ace an interview with your brother?”

“What’s this about an interview?” a voice asked, and Clay fell into step beside him. Apollo realized that in his excitement, he had completely forgotten to include the news in his texts to his roommate.

“Awesome!” Clay exclaimed after Apollo told him, throwing an arm around Apollo’s shoulder to pull him into a half-hug. “I knew you were a shoe-in.”

“Still have to do the interview,” Apollo reminded him.

“Eh, you’ll ace it,” Clay said. Apollo rolled his eyes.

“I agree,” Klavier piped up. Clay turned to him.

“Oh, but you’ve gotta have some secret cheats or something, right?” he said. “Like, Kristoph Gavin buzzwords that would guarantee Pollo the job or something.”

Klavier laughed. “Not sure about cheats, but if you can talk knowledgeably about Golden Retriever breeding, that wouldn’t hurt.”

“Wait, what?” Apollo asked. “Golden Retrievers?”

“Ja, but I’m serious about ‘knowledgeably’,” Klavier warned. “If you just look over the Wikipedia page the night before, he will know.”

“I…don’t think I’ll risk it,” Apollo said. “So, you guys have dogs?”

“Kris would object to me claiming any ownership of Vongole, but yes,” Klavier replied.

“Wait, Vongole? Like, ‘clams’ in Italian?” Clay asked, raising an eyebrow. Apollo turned to him.

“How do you know what ‘clams’ is in Italian?” he asked.

Clay looked indignant. “Can’t a man know how to talk about seafood in another language without an interrogation?”

Apollo didn’t know what to say to that, so Clay went on.

“Anyway, the more important question is…do you have pictures of Clams?”

Klavier was already taking out his phone. “Oh, do I have pictures.”

~~~

In the end, Klavier did give him a few tips, although they ended up being more like general interview advice than anything.

“Err on the side of formal,” he suggested, as they sat at their usual table in the library, the day before Apollo’s interview. “Kristoph can get very particular about that. Strong handshake, eye contact, all of that. Oh, and…”

He reached across the table, took Apollo’s hand in one of his, and examined it. “It’s a small thing, but…let me do your nails.”

“…what?”

“While it probably won’t make a difference, like I said, he can be very particular. But it’s up to you, of course.”

“Let’s do it,” Apollo said, starting to gather his belongings. “If I don’t, and then I don’t get the job, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if I missed my first big career opportunity because of bad nails.”

Which is how they ended up back at the Gavinners house, sitting cross-legged on the floor of Klavier’s room, Klavier filing Apollo’s nails into shape and Apollo noting with some relief that the only polish Klavier had taken out was clear.

“You know what you’re doing,” Apollo observed, as Klavier switched to his other hand.

“Kris and I had some unusual brotherly bonding activities,” Klavier said. “And I was less inclined to play catch with him after he kept blaming me for breaking things.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Did he do that a lot?”

“Eh, I don’t know. It probably was my fault a handful of times, anyway. You know how siblings are.” Klavier laughed lightly. “But manicures were much less risky.”

Apollo had never noticed before, but Klavier did have pretty nice nails. He wondered if they were hard to maintain, with all the guitar playing.

“Finished,” Klavier said, once he finished brushing on a second coat of clear polish. “Now just wait for them to dry.”

Apollo nodded, sitting back and looking around the bedroom as he waited. His eyes fell on the stack of records.

“Oh, I still have your CD,” he recalled suddenly. It was sitting on his desk. “The Jangly one.”

“What did you think of it?”  

“I liked it. It was cool. But…” Apollo paused. “I looked him up, to see if he had more music, and…he doesn’t exist?”

Klavier nodded knowingly. “Ja…it’s a strange story, actually.”

Apollo waited, interest piqued.

“He wasn’t ever very popular,” Klavier began. “He was just starting out, and then…he disappeared. Just vanished after that one album. And this was maybe twenty years ago—I only know because I did some digging after I found the album by chance. It took some sleuthing to even uncover that much—I couldn’t even find a photo. He’s like some sort of musical cryptid.”

“Huh,” Apollo said. “That’s…do you think he’s…okay?”

Klavier grimaced. “I hate to say it, but it’s been twenty years, so…”

“Yeah,” Apollo agreed. “That’s so weird.”

“Mm. He was about our age when he disappeared, too. A bit younger, actually.”

“Wow.” The two of them were quiet for a moment, pondering the mysterious fate of Jangly Jove.

“Anyway,” Klavier said finally. “That polish dries pretty fast, so you’re probably all set.”

“Oh, right.” Apollo had almost forgotten about his nails. “Thanks. I should probably go practice my interview questions like fifty more times.”

“Ah, wait.” Klavier shifted slightly, bowing his head for a moment before looking up at Apollo with a severe expression on his face. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and his eyes had a cold edge to them. “Pretend I’m Kristoph.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Uh…okay?”

Klavier gave a very small smile. “Have a seat, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the floor he was already sitting on. Klavier’s act broke for a moment as he stifled a chuckle.

He cleared his throat. “Hm. Now, we will discuss your suitability for this position, but first, something more important.” He paused. “You will notice that, around my office, there is not a single picture of my younger brother, but there are approximately fifty photographs of my dog, which I named after a seafood—”

Apollo snorted. “I thought you were going to be serious!”

“This is extremely ser—” A giggle escaped Klavier’s lips and he gave up, the thin-lipped expression collapsing. “Sorry,” he said, between laughs. “He just has so many pictures of Vongole.”

“Fifty, though?” Apollo said, also unable to hold back a laugh.

“Ja, okay, maybe not fifty. But seriously. You should count.” Klavier managed to get his laughter under control. “But if really you do want to practice, I can help. For real this time, I promise.”

Apollo shook his head. “Thanks, but honestly I’ve probably rehearsed my answers to death. I should probably just try to relax and turn in early.”

“Are you actually going to do that?” Klavier asked doubtfully.

“No, I’ll probably just keep bothering Clay. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier laughed.

“Thanks for the nails,” Apollo said, waggling his fingers as he stood to leave. “Should I do something with my hair, too? Maybe like this…” He experimentally began to wind the tufts of hair projecting from his forehead into a spiral.

Klavier gasped, affronted, his hand flying to the twist of hair resting over his shoulder. “I’ll tell him you made fun of our hair. You’ll never get the job now.”

~~~

“Hi, I’m Apollo Justice. I have an appointment…”

Gavin Law Offices was located halfway up a tall office building close to the center of the city. The reception area was furnished with dark wood and a handful of upholstered chairs, an unexpected contrast to the modern minimalism of the rest of the building.

“Yes, of course. Please have a seat.” The receptionist—Reese—gestured to a cushioned chair beside a table on which a stack of magazines was arrayed like a hand of cards. Most of them were legal periodicals, and Kristoph Gavin was featured on the cover of no fewer than two.

There were also a couple magazines featuring dog breeding, and Apollo paged through one idly as he waited. He had half-thought that Klavier was kidding about the Golden Retrievers.

“Mr. Gavin is ready for you,” Reese told him a few minutes later, and Apollo jumped, having become engrossed in an article about setter pedigrees. He took a deep breath and made his way down the hall to the second door on the right.

He muttered a brief “I’m fine” under his breath before stepping over the threshold.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Justice.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Apollo replied. For some reason, he felt like Mr. Gavin was the kind of person he should refer to as sir.

Kristoph stood and held out his hand, which Apollo shook. His grip was dry and unexpectedly cold.

“Have a seat.”

Apollo did so, and Kristoph returned to his desk chair.

“So, not very much experience…” he began, adjusting a paper on his desk with two fingers—Apollo recognized his resume. “Of course, that would be why you want the job, I imagine.”

Apollo wasn’t sure if Kristoph wanted a reply to that statement, but he answered with a hasty “yes, sir” regardless.

“And you’re hoping to become a defense attorney,” Kristoph continued. “Why is that?”

Now the older Gavin looked up and met Apollo’s gaze. His eyes were the same color as Klavier’s, but there was something sharper about them, glinting like steel behind Kristoph’s silver-framed glasses.

I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine, Apollo reminded himself.

“W-well, it’s a bit of a long story,” he began. It was—he had rehearsed this answer, and his first attempt had taken almost five minutes and had included far too much bizarre family history. So he had elected to keep it simple. “My father was actually a defense attorney”—operative word “was,” but he didn’t really want to get into Khura’in’s legal woes—“and he was always telling us how much he loved his job. I didn’t really understand why until I moved here, though. I saw the coverage for some of Phoenix Wright’s earlier trials and…it just clicked. I knew what I wanted to do with my life.”

“Which trials?” Kristoph asked. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips—he almost looked amused.

Apollo considered this. “State v. Edgeworth, first. Wright taking down von Karma made me realize that defense attorneys can do more than just make excuses for criminals. State v. Engarde was another.”

“State v. Engarde?” Kristoph asked, a note of surprise in his voice.

“I know it doesn’t really look like Wright’s finest moment,” Apollo conceded.

“I would agree,” Kristoph said coolly. “Although perhaps not for the reasons you think. Go on.”

Apollo paused to collect his thoughts. “Well, he was defending someone who was obviously guilty,” he began. “And that was one of the things that used to confuse me about defense attorneys—it’s why lawyers get a bad rap, right? Because sometimes, it looks like they’re trying to prevent justice from being served. But Wright…he could have gotten Engarde off, but he chose not to, despite everything that he was up against.” Apollo paused, trying to remember the explanation he had rehearsed last night. “Wright helped me realize that lawyers are essential to justice, not just an obstacle to it, and that’s why I want to be a defense attorney,” he concluded.

“Interesting,” Kristoph said, and Apollo couldn’t help but feel a shiver of apprehension. “You say Engarde was ‘obviously guilty.’ But perhaps if Wright had been more experienced, then the court would not have felt so convinced of Engarde’s guilt.” Kristoph leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “There was no decisive evidence, after all. He rather let that trial get away with him.”

“But Engarde was guilty,” Apollo pointed out. He had to stick to his position—even if debating with Kristoph Gavin was one of the most terrifying things he had ever done. It wouldn’t help his case to just roll over and admit defeat. “That was the truth of the case. Convincing him to take a guilty plea…I think it was the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do…” Kristoph mused. “Attorneys must defend all manner of clients. Do you think it will always feel like ‘the right thing to do?’ Remember, the lives of your dear friends are not likely to be on the line to motivate you.”

Apollo gulped. “Well…”

“I am of the opinion that this perspective is somewhat naïve. Although, I suppose it is to be expected of someone who admires Phoenix Wright…” Kristoph’s glasses glinted in the light. “I believe it is the duty of an attorney to utilize the law to the advantage of his client, to the best of his ability, regardless of what he believes to be the ‘truth’. In court, evidence is everything, Mr. Justice. The existence of evidence, or the lack thereof, carries much more weight than your—or the gallery’s—arbitrary judgement call. That is, after all, why we have trials, is it not?”

Apollo tried not to cringe too visibly. Well, had he really expected to win an argument against the Coolest Defense in the West?

Even so…

“But ultimately,” he began, and Kristoph’s eyebrows rose incrementally, as if he was surprised. “I think the truth is what matters the most. And if we have any doubts that the verdict passed by the judge isn’t the truth, then it’s our responsibility to address that doubt, together with the prosecution.”

That was right, wasn’t it? If that truth resulted in a guilty verdict, maybe it wasn’t the best outcome for one’s reputation as a lawyer, but it was justice.

“I see.” Kristoph fell quiet, and Apollo braced himself for the inevitable dismissal, wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“When are you available?”

“Huh?”

Kristoph smiled, an expression which was barely more than a slightly bowing of his lips. “You are not here to join my legal team, Mr. Justice. You are here because you wish to learn, to experience the law outside of the bubble of the classroom. That is an opportunity I can certainly provide. To be quite honest, your tasks here will be very menial, and could frankly be covered by a little extra work on the part of my current employees. But I see this as an investment—the experience you gain here will serve to better our legal system in the future.”

Apollo wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but Kristoph had asked him a question, so he decided to focus on that.

“I’m free afternoons on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and mornings on Tuesday,” he answered.

“Excellent.” Kristoph went on to discuss Apollo’s hours, then sent him back to the receptionist to fill out some forms.

In half an hour, he was back outside the office, unlocking his bike and picking up his phone to reply to Klavier’s five text messages.

On second thought…he dialed Klavier’s number instead, then started walking his bike down the sidewalk as the phone connected. Apollo was pretty sure he wasn’t in class…

Klavier picked up almost immediately. “Forehead! How did it go?”

“Uh, good.” Apollo still couldn’t really believe it. “I start Wednesday.”

“Wunderbar!!” Klavier exclaimed. “What was the interview like?”

Apollo shook his head even though Klavier couldn’t see him. “I dunno, kind of weird? He was talking about how hiring me was an investment into the future of the legal system.”

Klavier laughed. “Ja, I know that spiel. Imagine bringing home an 89 on a test and being told that the fate of the law as we know it is suddenly imperiled because I forgot who defended in SN-18.”

~~~

As Kristoph had promised, Apollo’s work at Gavin Law Offices was very menial—it consisted largely of organizing files and data entry. That said, Apollo was still absolutely thrilled to be there—the office was handling a number of high-profile cases, and even though Apollo was directly involved in exactly none of them, he was still fascinated by his glimpse behind the bench, as it were.

It was only Apollo’s third day when Kristoph stepped out of his office with a sense of urgency, cast his eyes around the desks of his subordinates, and finally settled his gaze on Apollo.

“Mr. Justice, have you finished with the Parker files?”

“Um, yes, sir, I was just about to start—”

“That can wait. Come with me. Bring something to take notes.” Kristoph was already striding towards the reception area, and Apollo scrambled to grab a notepad and a pen just in time to catch up to his boss as he swept out the door.

They were outside the building before Apollo finally managed to ask where they were going.

“The police station,” Kristoph answered simply, turning in that direction. The courthouse and police station were only a couple blocks from their office building.

Apollo was reluctant to ask too many pestering questions, so he stayed quiet as he followed Kristoph down the sidewalk. Besides, it didn’t take a detective to figure out that Kristoph was intending to meet a potential client—the only real mystery was why he had chosen Apollo to come with him. It was a job that usually went to one of the more senior employees—Apollo could only guess that everyone else had been too busy on other important cases.

When they arrived at the detention center, Kristoph handed his ID to the officer on duty and motioned for Apollo to do the same.

“Kristoph Gavin,” he introduced himself, although it was only a formality, as the officer clearly recognized him. “I am here to see Zak Gramarye.”

Gramarye…Gramarye…The name sounded familiar to Apollo, but he wasn’t quite able to place it until he followed Kristoph into the visiting room and saw the man behind the glass.

He was tall, even when seated, and he was made even taller by the pastel pink top hat perched on his head. Together with the pink cape and the blue brooch in the shape of a club, he was unmistakable as a member of Troupe Gramarye, the performing magicians.

He looked up when they entered, and he seemed unsurprised to see Kristoph. However, when his eyes fell on Apollo, a crease formed between his brows—something like recognition lit up in his eyes. Apollo met his gaze briefly, then quickly looked elsewhere. Gramarye had a very intense stare.

“Mr. Gramarye,” Kristoph was saying. “My name is Kristoph Gavin, and I am a defense attorney. I was hoping to discuss the opportunity to represent you in your upcoming trial.”

Gramarye nodded, his gaze finally returning to Kristoph. “You have an impressive reputation, Mr. Gavin.”

“You flatter me,” Kristoph replied modestly, a smile flickering on his lips. “And in this case, I can guarantee—”

Gramarye waved a hand dismissively. “Save the speech. Who is this?”

“Ah, of course. Apollo Justice, an intern at my law office. He’s just here to take down a few notes.”

Apollo was sure this time—when Kristoph introduced him, Gramarye’s eyes flashed with not only perplexed recognition, but something else, too, something like…hostility? Apollo gulped and busied himself with writing the date on his notepad. He had no idea why Gramarye would have that reaction—as far as Apollo could remember, his only interaction with the magician until today had been through the colorful posters he saw plastered all over bus stops and billboards.

But Gramarye said nothing, only nodded a vague greeting and returned his attention to Kristoph. “I don’t want to hear your pitch,” he said, then turned around to look over his should. “Guard! Everything is ready in my cell, yes?”

The guard nodded and motioned for Kristoph and Apollo to wait. He led Gramarye out of the visiting room, and a few minutes later returned for the two of them. They passed through a secure door and followed the guard to one of the detention center cells.

Inside, Zak Gramarye sat at folding table with two chairs. A deck of cards and a few stacks of chips rested in front of him. Kristoph looked over the setup and frowned.

As they approached, Gramarye turned to them. “Your perfect win record is not important to me,” he told Kristoph. “I have my own test. Let’s play a few rounds of poker, and then I’ll decide if I want to put my life in your hands.”

“This is certainly unorthodox,” Apollo heard Kristoph mutter under his breath, and when he glanced at his boss, he felt his bracelet tighten slightly around his wrist. Kristoph was acting cool, but the turn of events seemed to have truly caught him off guard.

The cell door was opened, and Apollo followed Kristoph inside. Gramarye gestured for Kristoph to take the chair across from him, and Apollo was left standing off to the side.

“Mr…Justice,” Gramarye said, turning to him. “If you wouldn’t mind dealing for us…?”

“Uh, sure.” Apollo took the deck, shuffled it a few times, and laid out cards for the players.

As Gramarye and Kristoph played, Apollo looked back and forth between them, watching.

Kristoph was not a very confident poker player. He was holding his own thanks to some fortunate hands, but he was betting conservatively, and at this rate, wouldn’t be able to pull ahead. The entire situation seemed to have him shaken, and every so often, his eyebrow twitched. He was, in short, losing his cool.

Gramarye, on the other hand, exuded confidence. They played a few hands, but Kristoph only managed to call Gramarye’s bluff once. He recovered a modest stack of chips, but it wasn’t enough.

Gramarye leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “One more hand, I think. Try and redeem yourself, Mr. Gavin.”

 Apollo shuffled and dealt another hand. He watched Gramarye more closely this time, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist as he did so. It was only after the players started exchanging cards with the deck that he realized his bracelet was tightening around his wrist.

He's bluffing, Apollo realized with a start. Gramarye had made a sizeable bet, his smile as confident as ever, but Apollo was certain that he was disappointed with his hand.

It was a test. Overall, Gramarye would have ended up with more chips even if he folded on this hand, but he was bluffing instead. He wanted to see how Kristoph would react—Apollo guessed that even if Kristoph’s hand did turn out to be worse, Gramarye would look more favorably on a bold play.

 But Kristoph was too distracted by the game to be thinking like that. He stared intently at his cards, but he didn’t look particularly worried. Even so, he probably wouldn’t raise. If it came to a showdown, he might win, but Gramarye wouldn’t hire him.

Kristoph needed to raise his bet. If only there was some way Apollo could tell him…

Apollo glanced at Gramarye out of the corner of his eye. The magician was watching Kristoph, not him.

Nonchalantly, Apollo raised one hand to his mouth, angled slightly so Gramarye wouldn’t be able to see his lips. Then, he coughed.

With the tension building between the two players, the sound was enough to make them both flinch. They glanced at him, only for a moment.

As distinctly as he could manage, Apollo mouthed, “Bluff.”

He thought he saw understanding light up in Kristoph’s eyes, but Kristoph returned his gaze to the cards almost immediately, so he couldn’t be sure.

Apollo fell into another bought of coughs to make the act a little more convincing, and decided that was the best he was going to be able to do.

Gramarye had already made his bet. For a long moment, Kristoph stared at his hand, glancing up at the chips on the table and at Gramarye every so often.

Finally, he pushed a stack of chips into the center of the table, and uncertainty flared in Gramarye’s eyes, visible only by a slight deepening of the creases at the corners. Apollo could have cheered. Either Kristoph had understood him, or he had gained a newfound confidence. Either way, Gramarye had a decision to make. He had to match the bet or fold.

With a short laugh, he slid a matched pile of chips into the center of the table, then tossed down his cards. Kristoph placed his down as well.

It was as Apollo has predicted—Gramarye only had one pair. Kristoph, however, had a straight. Silently, he swept the chips in the center of the table to his side.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Gramarye said, holding his hand out across the table for Kristoph to shake. “Quite the turnabout. You’re hired, Mr. Gavin.”

Apollo carefully stole a glance at the magician, but Gramarye wasn’t looking at him—it seemed he hadn’t noticed Apollo’s interference.

Some paperwork was exchanged, and ten minutes later, Apollo and Kristoph were back outside, strolling down the sidewalk in the direction of Gavin Law Offices. Kristoph was making a phone call, but halfway to the office he hung up and looked at Apollo out of the corner of his eye.

“That was well done, Mr. Justice. I must admit that poker is not my game of choice.”

No kidding, Apollo thought, but kept it to himself.

“I’m guessing that’s not how most clients choose their attorneys,” he said instead.

“No. I had been hoping to provide you with an educational experience, but I suppose one cannot always expect clients to cooperate.” Kristoph paused. “How did you know he was bluffing, if I may ask?”

Apollo shrugged. “I’m usually pretty good at knowing when people are hiding something.” Best to leave it at that—he resisted the urge to twist his bracelet.

“Fascinating. I’m sure that particular skill will serve you very well.” Kristoph adjusted his glasses. He still looked irritated, and Apollo decided that it would be wise to avoid any further discussion of card games on their walk back to the office.

~~~

As expected, it did not take long for the IPLS meeting that week to turn to the topic of the upcoming Gramarye trial.

In fact, it only took a single minute—Apollo had barely finished greeting the group when Athena’s hand shot into the air. It was more of a warning than a request—she was talking before Apollo even had a chance to acknowledge her.

“We’re going to the Gramarye trial, right?” she asked. “I mean, I’m going, but we can go as a club, right?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the club. With the murder of someone as famous as Magnifi Gramarye, everyone was talking about the upcoming trial, not just those interested in law.

Apollo laughed. “I was just about to suggest it, actually. We just have to work out a few logistics. How many of you have actually been to the courthouse?”

A few of the upperclassmen’s hands went up, which was as Apollo had anticipated. He had been planning to take the bus to the courthouse as a group, but he had a quiz the next morning that he couldn’t skip, so, as loathe as he was to miss the beginning of the trial, he would have to go late. After some discussion, it was found that Simon, Nahyuta, and a handful of other students were in the same boat, so it was decided that Klavier and Sebastian would meet the freshmen at the bus stop in the morning to help them find their way to the courthouse. The rest would catch up later—Apollo was hoping that, if the buses cooperated, they would make it for the tail end of the first cross-examination.

One of the other freshmen, Robin Newman, leaned across her desk eagerly. “Hey, Apollo, you got that internship at Gavin Law Offices, didn’t you? Got any inside info?”

Apollo hesitated. He hadn’t even mentioned his trip to the detention center to Klavier, because he couldn’t imagine that Kristoph would be particularly pleased if he found out. So he just smiled and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m mostly on administrative stuff. Nothing major like that.”

“Aw, too bad…”

As the club members fell to chatting about the case, Klavier stepped up beside Apollo.

“Really, no details? Are you sure my bro is actually teaching you anything?”

“He is, but…he’s not actually around that much, lately.” Once Gramarye had been secured as a client, it seemed Kristoph was hardly ever in the office, or if he was, he had his door shut tight.

“It is certainly going to be an interesting trial,” Klavier mused. “And it’s just the kind of gig Kris loves.”

Apollo glanced at him curiously, and Klavier elaborated.

“High profile murder. He’ll be all over the papers when he wins.”

Apollo elected not to question the “when.” Klavier’s casual assumption of victory was shared by his coworkers at Gavin Law Offices; no one seemed to consider the alternative a possibility.

With only a day of preparations remaining, Apollo didn’t expect to see Kristoph when he reported for work that afternoon, and sure enough, his office was empty when Apollo arrived. On Apollo’s desk was a stack of paperwork and a note—instructions to leave the finished work on Kristoph’s desk before he left that day.

The paperwork didn’t take him very long, but Apollo dawdled somewhat, hoping that Kristoph might return before he left—despite himself, he really was curious to see if he could learn anything new about the trial, particularly after his unusual encounter with the defendant. But as the afternoon stretched into evening, and Apollo’s stomach started complaining about the delay of his dinner, he resigned himself to waiting until court the next day. Gathering up his papers, he stood to bring them to Kristoph’s office.

He placed the files on his boss’s desk and searched around for something he could use to leave a note. There was one entry he wanted to double check with Kristoph once he wasn’t so busy.

There was an organizer on the other side of the desk with a pad of notes. But when Apollo moved to take one, his foot caught on the rug on the floor and he tripped, sending the organizer toppling off the desk and spraying paper clips across the office.

Dammit. Apollo steadied himself and glanced out of the office, but it seemed that none of the other employees had noticed the commotion. Walking around the desk, Apollo began to scoop up paper clips and other various office supplies and replace them in the organizer.

As he set it back on the desk, his eye caught on something else on the floor, something small and colorful. Whoops, almost missed that. He snagged the item from the floor—a book of commemorative stamps, it looked like—and dropped it back into the organizer. Then, thanking his lucky stars that Kristoph hadn’t decided to return during that little fiasco, he grabbed a sticky note and wrote a quick explanation, leaving it with his paperwork for his boss.

~~~

Apollo had never been more thankful for his relative fluency in Khura’inese than he was during his quiz the next morning. He had done plenty of studying, but it was nearly impossible to focus on the questions when he knew the Gramarye trial was starting downtown.

He finished quickly, but Nahyuta still beat him. He was waiting outside in the hallway when Apollo rushed out, idly scrolling through his phone.

“Simon says he’ll meet us at the bus stop,” he informed Apollo. He glanced up, the corners of his lips lifting into a smug smile. “What took you so long?”

“Shut up. Let’s go.”

He walked more quickly than usual on the way to the bus stop, forcing Nahyuta out of his usual, statelier, stride, but his hurry turned out to be for nothing; neither Simon nor the bus had arrived. Fortunately, Simon didn’t keep them waiting long—he had been meeting with a professor—and the bus pulled up soon after.

They were approaching downtown at what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace when Simon looked up from his phone.

“Athena says the judge just called a recess,” he said, just as Apollo’s phone buzzed with a text from Klavier saying the same thing. “We might make it before it ends.”

The bus, to Apollo’s chagrin, seemed to have other ideas as it limped along the streets. Even so, after it finally dumped them out in front of the courthouse, and they walked to the proper courtroom as quickly as could be considered appropriate, they managed to locate the rest of the club just as the judge was taking his seat again.

Klavier slid over on the bench to make room for Apollo, nodding a greeting before returning his attention to the trial.

Below, Kristoph stood at his bench, leafing through some of the papers on his desk. He looked serious, but unworried. From Klavier’s texts, Apollo had gathered that so far, only the detective on the case had given testimony, and they were now waiting on the prosecution’s “decisive witness.”

At the opposing bench, Miles Edgeworth did not look quite as confident as one who claimed a “decisive witness” would be expected to look. Ostensibly, he was also sorting his files, but Apollo noticed that, every so often, he would glance up and watch Kristoph for a moment with a calculating stare. Apollo had been somewhat surprised to hear that Edgeworth would be prosecuting this case himself, but given the public attention that Magnifi’s murder had attracted, he supposed it was only natural. The prosecutors’ office was said to be somewhat short-staffed lately, and perhaps the Chief Prosecutor hadn’t considered any of his subordinates fit to go up against Kristoph Gavin.

The prosecution’s witness turned out to be Valant Gramarye, another student of Magnifi’s. Edgeworth and Kristoph went back and forth over how Valant could have committed the crime just as easily as Zak could have. As an employee of Gavin Law Offices, Apollo wanted to believe that Kristoph’s theory, that Valant had framed Zak, was the correct one, but Edgeworth did not seem swayed. Apollo realized why when the prosecutor brought out a new piece of evidence.

Magnifi Gramarye’s diary was a thin, leather-bound book, embossed with an image of a top hat. It seemed somewhat out of place with the rest of Edgeworth’s files. Edgeworth described how Gramarye had been recording his memoirs, and how he had written an entry on the day of his death.

 As Edgeworth explained the diary’s final entry, Apollo watched Kristoph. The defense attorney seemed unfazed. He waited patiently for Edgeworth to finish, arms folded and with a small smile on his lips.

 “Prosecutor Edgeworth, I am afraid I don’t see the problem,” Kristoph said, once the judge had accepted the diary as evidence. “There are clear signs of a page having been torn out. As far as I can tell, Valant has removed the true final entry in order to frame my client.”

Edgeworth clicked his tongue. “And after all his careful work with the IV bag, he did a rather sloppy job here, did he not? It is entirely possible that the defendant himself tore out a blank page, after realizing that his teacher’s diary would betray his actions.”

The judge looked confused. “This seems far from decisive, Chief Prosecutor,” he pointed out.

“Indeed,” Edgeworth conceded. “But it is a simple enough matter to resolve. If anything was written on that page, as the defense claims, there should be impressions left on the following page. It would be a simple matter to—”

“Unfortunately for your case, Chief Prosecutor, that will not be necessary,” Kristoph interrupted. “We need not resort to craft projects when I have the final page right here.”

Edgeworth’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Shall I read it?” Kristoph asked, his eyes glittering. He held up a single sheet of paper, torn along one edge.

Edgeworth leaned on his desk, his expression stormy. “O-Objection. That’s impossible.”

“I’m sure you will find that this page matches those tear marks exactly.” Kristoph smiled.

The gallery had burst into surprised chattering. The judge quieted the courtroom with a few taps of his gavel.

“Mr. Gavin. Please share the diary entry with the court.”

“Gladly, Your Honor.”

As Apollo watched Kristoph read aloud, he realized that he had started massaging his wrist under his bracelet, which was starting to ache. The feeling faded after a moment, and Apollo decided he must have been imagining it.

Kristoph finished reading Magnifi’s final words and handed the notebook page over to the judge, who examined it closely.

“Well, this is certainly what I would call decisive,” the judge admitted, putting down the page.

“Objection,” Edgeworth called, this time with more confidence. “Your Honor, with all due respect, this evidence cannot be considered admissible, let alone decisive, until it can be verified.”

The judge nodded sagely. “The Chief Prosecutor is right, of course. I am calling a recess for the examination of the defense’s new evidence.”

He tapped his gavel. Kristoph appeared unbothered.

The following recess was longer than any of the previous ones, but Apollo and Klavier stayed in their seats, unwilling to risk missing even a second of the trial.

Finally, the judge took his seat again and court resumed. A forensic expert came to the stand and explained that the handwriting on the newly presented evidence was a perfect match to the rest of the diary, as was the tear at the edge of the page. In response to Edgeworth’s query about impressions on the following page, the scientist replied that the paper was too thick for conclusive marks to be made.

“Well,” the judge said, once Edgeworth had run out of questions. “I believe the defense’s evidence has indeed been proven to be decisive. Bailiff, if you would call in the defendant?”

The bailiff disappeared, and the courtroom waited. Thirty seconds passed—Apollo wondered what was causing the delay.

And it seemed that he wasn’t alone. At the defense bench, Kristoph appeared composed, his arms crossed as he waited, but his fingers, gripping his arm and causing the fabric of his suit to bunch slightly, betrayed him.

What’s he so nervous about?

“Your Honor,” Edgeworth began, as thirty seconds turned into a minute and the defendant still had not made an appearance. His brow was creased—he cast one more piercing look at Kristoph before turning to the judge. “I have further questions regarding this new evidence. I would like to know—”

As he spoke, a bailiff burst into the room. He appeared frazzled.

“Your Honor,” he interrupted, after taking a moment to catch his breath. “We, um, we can’t find the defendant.”

For just a second, the courtroom was silent. Then the gallery burst into confused babbling.

“Can’t find him?” “What does that mean?” “He’s a magician—is this some kind of joke?”

The judge’s eyebrows rose to his nonexistent hairline. “What?!”

The bailiff made a hopeless sort of a gesture. “He seems to have…disappeared. A few bailiffs followed a man in a top hat down a hallway, but when they turned the corner…”

The judge was shaking his head, brow furrowed. “Is there security footage?”

“We’re checking it now, Your Honor. But it doesn’t look good.”

The judge looked utterly baffled. “Why would…the defense’s new evidence could have acquitted him, so why…?”

Another bailiff rushed in, and the entire courtroom turned to her expectantly.

“No sign of him,” she said, breathing heavily. “But we found this note.”

She held up a small rectangle of paper, then read aloud: “Tricks are best left to the magicians.”

“Where was this found?” the judge was asking, but Apollo’s attention was snagged by a movement in the corner of his vision, at the defense bench.

When Apollo looked at Kristoph, he appeared composed, but it was easy enough for Apollo to notice the tightness in his jaw and anger alight in his eyes. But it was only a moment—Kristoph dropped his gaze and the glare off his glasses obscured his eyes.

“Mr. Gavin,” the judge said, and when Kristoph looked up, the strange expression had vanished, replaced with a puzzled frown to match the rest of the courtroom. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I have no idea, Your Honor,” Kristoph told him. “I certainly did not advise my client to make use of his unique skill set.”

“Indeed.” The judge thought for a moment. “Then I have no choice. I cannot pass down a verdict, guilty or otherwise, on a defendant who is not present. Bailiffs, continue to search the building. But for today”—he tapped his gavel—“court is adjourned.”

As soon as the trial concluded (such as it was) Klavier jumped to his feet. He grabbed Apollo’s wrist with a grip that rivaled that of Apollo’s bracelet and pulled him up, too.

“Come on, quickly.”

“Where—”

“Defendant lobby,” Klavier said shortly as they fought through the crowds leaving the courtroom. “I need to speak to Kris.”

Apollo had some questions for his boss, as well. That notebook had been critical evidence, so why hadn’t Kristoph revealed it earlier?

They were in the hallway now, this particular corridor deserted, but Klavier hadn’t released his wrist.

“Uh, Klavier?” He looked down at their hands. “That kind of hurts.”

“Huh? Oh!” Klavier let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“No prob—”

Ahead of them, the doors to the defendant lobby were thrown open, and the very man they were looking for emerged, trailed closely by a teenage girl in a pink cloak.

“Wait, Mr. Gavin!” the girl cried frantically. “Do you know where my father—”

But Kristoph had already strode around the corner, and the girl was left standing alone in the doorway. Klavier’s brows drew together as he seemed to debate following Kristoph, but he stopped by the doors to the lobby instead.

“Fräulein, I’m sorry—you said Zak Gramarye was your father?”

The girl looked between Klavier and the hallway down which Kristoph had disappeared in confusion.

“Um…?”

“Mr. Gavin is my brother.” Klavier briefly explained why the girl was seeing double. “The police are looking for your father now, if I heard correctly.”

“They won’t find him,” the girl said quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. “He’s too good. He’s a Gramarye, he’s…he’s gone…”

A sort of rage welled up in Apollo, directed at the missing magician. He reached out to put a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder, and to his surprise, she all but collapsed into his arms and started sobbing.

“Um…”

“Klavier!” a familiar voice rang out, and Apollo and Klavier looked up to see Phoenix Wright burst through the doors of the defendant lobby. “Your brother—where’d he go?”

Klavier shook his head. “He left a few minutes ago. Before I could talk to him.”

Phoenix pursed his lips. “Hm.” Then, he seemed to notice the girl still sniffling in Apollo’s arms. “Wait, aren’t you…”

“I believe this is Zak Gramarye’s daughter,” Klavier explained.

Wright nodded. “Yeah, I ran into her at the detention center the other night…”

The girl shrugged out of Apollo’s hug and wiped her eyes. “I’m Trucy,” she said. She bit her lip and looked at Apollo. “Sorry about that, …?”

“Apollo,” he introduced himself. “And no problem. I, uh…sort of know how you feel.”

Wright looked like he was thinking hard. “Uh, Trucy. Your dad…”

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Wright nodded. “That’s okay. I’m thirteen now! I can take care of myself! I’m almost as good at magic as my dad was, so I’ll be fine!”

Apollo’s bracelet constricted, but he tried to ignore it.

“Wright!” Another voice rang out from down the hallway, and everyone turned to see the Chief Prosecutor striding in their direction.

“Edgeworth,” Wright greeted him. “What did the judge have to say?”

Edgeworth shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “He was also curious about Gavin’s new evidence, but with the defendant missing, he said that it was not a priority right now.”

“Hm.” Phoenix trailed off, rubbing his chin. Edgeworth seemed to just notice the rest of the assembled group.

“Wright, who…?” he began, his gaze falling on Trucy.

“I’m Trucy Gramarye,” Trucy piped up. She put a special emphasis on Gramarye, as if she wanted to point out her parentage to Edgeworth in particular, and eyed him with some hostility.

Edgeworth’s brows drew together. “Miss Gramarye, I was not aware…” He glanced at Wright. “The police—”

“I thought maybe she could wait in your office,” Wright interrupted. “A bit more comfortable than the police station, but still close by.” Without waiting for Edgeworth’s response, he turned to Trucy. “Does that sound okay? My name is Phoenix Wright, by the way. I’m a lawyer like Mr. Gavin. Mr. Edgeworth’s office is close by—and Apollo and Klavier can come, too,” he added, looking up at them.

Trucy narrowed her eyes at him, then at Edgeworth. “My dad isn’t a murderer,” she told him, glaring.

Edgeworth looked somewhat taken aback, but he recovered after a moment. “In time, the trial may have proven that, Miss Gramarye, had it been allowed to continue,” he said, his voice even.

Trucy didn’t seem to have a response to that. She hmphed and returned her attention to Wright, fixing him with an appraising stare for a moment before bouncing on her toes and nodding.

“Okay,” she chirped. “I’ll go with you guys.”

The walk to the prosecutors’ office was a quiet one. Wright and Edgeworth spoke in hushed tones until they reached the elevator lobby and Edgeworth said he would meet them upstairs. In the elevator, Klavier kept looking at his phone, waiting for Kristoph to return his calls.

Trucy had fallen silent, too. Apollo kept an eye on her as the elevator rose. Having had some experiences with absent father figures, he could imagine how she must be feeling right now. Perhaps Dhurke hadn’t quite vanished into thin air, but Apollo remembered all too well what it was like to have been left alone in what was, to him at the time, a foreign country. It had taken years to heal the wounds from that abandonment.

When they reconvened in Edgeworth’s office, the Chief Prosecutor offered Trucy his couch and started making some tea. They had only just arrived when Klavier’s phone buzzed.

“Kris,” he said shortly, holding it up, and stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Wright and Edgeworth were using the noise of the kettle to cover the hushed conversation they were having by the window, so Apollo joined Trucy on the couch.

“So, you’re a magician, too?” he asked. The outfit seemed to suggest as much, anyway.

Trucy had been gazing at the floor, seemingly lost in thought, but at the mention of magic, she perked right up. Apollo only had to inquire a little further, and soon Trucy was talking animatedly about the tricks she could do. Apollo laughed as she enthusiastically described how she had just mastered rabbits and hats, but his smile faded when Klavier reentered the room, his expression serious.

“Your tea, Miss Gramarye,” Edgeworth said, appearing by the couch and handing Trucy a cup and saucer. “Please make yourself comfortable, we will just be a moment.”

Trucy looked like she knew very well that they were excluding her from conversations about her father, but she nodded reluctantly and didn’t protest when Edgeworth gestured for Wright, Apollo, and Klavier to follow him into the hallway.

“You were able to reach your brother?” Edgeworth asked once the door closed behind them. Klavier nodded.

“He’s back at his office. He doesn’t have any idea what happened to Gramarye.” Klavier paused, looking at the ground. “He’s furious.”

“No doubt,” Edgeworth said neutrally.

“So he really doesn’t have any leads?” Wright asked.

“Apparently, he and his client were not on the best of terms,” Klavier said. “I believe Gramarye actually considered finding a new attorney last minute, but there was no time.”

That was news to Apollo. He wondered what Gramarye and Kristoph had disagreed on—maybe the magician had realized the truth of Kristoph’s poker victory?

But that was a question for another day. Right now, there were more pressing matters.

“Where does that leave Trucy?” he asked. “If they can’t find him.”

Edgeworth looked grim. “If she has any living relatives, she will be placed in their care. But it will take some time…”

“I’ll look out for her,” Wright piped up.

Edgeworth turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Wright shrugged. “I feel sorta responsible, actually. Gramarye called my office yesterday, asking if I could take over his defense, but I have another client for a trial starting tomorrow. I can’t help but wonder if that would have changed anything.” He scratched his neck sheepishly and glanced towards the door of Edgeworth’s office. “But it’s up to her, obviously. We probably don’t need to leave her out of this part of the conversation.”

They returned to the office. Wright spoke with Trucy while Apollo answered a few confused texts from club members who were wondering where he and Klavier had disappeared to.

When he tuned back in to the conversation, Wright was talking about how he had actually run into Trucy at the detention center because he had been there on Gramarye’s request. They had discussed Gramarye’s case over a game of poker, but Wright had ultimately been unable to represent the magician due to the possibility that the trial would run into another day and leave him caught between clients.

Trucy had been listening quietly, her brow furrowed as she considered Wright’s offer.

“Did you win?” she piped up suddenly. Wright paused.

“Oh, the game? Yeah, I won.” He laughed. “I’m pretty good at poker, actually. Bluffing is kind of my strong suit.”

Trucy nodded seriously after this new information. After another moment’s thought, she looked up at Wright.

“Okay! I’ll go with you, then.”

“What? Just because I won?”

“Yep. And my dad said you were trustworthy.”

Wright tilted his head, confused. “Gramarye said that…?”

“Mmhm. And I think he’s right. So where do you live? Is your office fancy like this?” She looked around at Edgeworth’s dark wooden bookshelves and deep red carpet.

Edgeworth stifled a chuckle. Wright elbowed him.

With that matter settled for the time being, the five of them returned to the ground floor. A police officer approached Edgeworth and gave him a quick report, but it contained nothing new—there was still no sign of Gramarye.

Klavier and Apollo bid farewell to Trucy, who thanked them and said she was “sorry for crying on you, Polly!” before starting their walk to the bus stop.

“I just don’t get it,” Apollo mused, once they were seated on the bus heading back to Ivy. “Why would he just vanish? That notebook page was practically decisive. I mean…hey, Klavier?”

Klavier had been very quiet since they left Edgeworth’s office. Apollo nudged him gently when he didn’t respond to his name.

“Sorry. I guess…I guess he wanted a mistrial. Or…I don’t know. Part of me thinks he did it just to piss Kris off.” Klavier frowned at the back of the seat in front of him.

“But…why?” Vengeance for cheating at poker? It seemed a little far-fetched. He considered mentioning the game to Klavier, but decided against it.

“I don’t know.” Klavier shook his head. “Anyway, he succeeded.”

“Ugh.” A thought had occurred to Apollo. “I have work tomorrow.”

Klavier gave a short laugh. “As long as you don’t bring up Gramaryes, you should be okay,” he said.

“Noted.”

And Klavier was right. The atmosphere at Gavin Law Offices was tense the next day, but by some unspoken rule, no one mentioned the Gramarye trial, and business carried on as usual. Kristoph was occupied most of the day—in his office with the door closed in the morning, and out in the afternoon. Apollo didn’t even see him.

And as the semester went on, Apollo had more important things to worry about than Zak Gramarye’s vanishing act. Finals were fast approaching, and most of Apollo’s energy went into studying. In a few weeks, the incident had faded into the background, just another unusual trial at the bottom of a long list of the peculiar cases that this particular courthouse had seen.

       Apollo:  I’m headed to the library to work on dent’s study guide, want to come with?

       Klavier: I would, but I’m in finals mode….come to the house instead?

Apollo raised an eyebrow at the text message, but agreed anyway and turned on his heel in the direction of the Gavinners house.

Daryan met him at the door. “Careful, he’s in finals mode.”

“Uh…okay?” Was this a thing? Apollo made his way uncertainly up the stairs and knocked on the door emblazoned with the silver G. There was no response.

“He probably has headphones on, just go in,” Daryan called from downstairs. Apollo slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Oh. Finals mode.

Klavier’s room was always full of books to begin with, but now they were everywhere, stacked on the floor and every other flat surface, many of them marked with swarms of sticky notes. A laptop rested precariously on one stack, and the two monitors on the desk were both on, one displaying a case record and the other a copy of Dent’s study guide. A notebook was perched atop another stack of books, accompanied by a veritable army of highlighters. Apollo had to stop short to avoid disturbing any of this.

And amidst the studious chaos was Klavier, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a textbook in his lap and leaning towards his laptop screen. He was, indeed, wearing headphones, huge ones with Gavinners logos over the ears, and his hair was piled into a messy bun. A pair of thick-framed glasses rested on his nose.

“Oh, hey,” Klavier said, glancing up briefly from whatever he was reading on his screen. Apollo returned the greeting and lingered in the doorway.

“Oh…” Klavier looked around the room somewhat helplessly. “Perhaps I didn’t think this through. You can take the desk? Or…the bed, maybe? Hm.”

“So this is ‘finals mode,’” Apollo said faintly.

Klavier laughed. “I should have warned you.”

“I think Daryan tried to,” Apollo recalled. He elected to claim the bed as his study area, since it was the only available space not cluttered with books. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Ja, my vision is worse than Kris’s,” Klavier said. “But I prefer contacts.”

“Huh.” Apollo settled on the bed, next to the enormous plush Blue Badger that occupied a good portion of the space. He started taking out his books, but couldn’t help but glance up at Klavier often enough that it was no surprise when he noticed.

Klavier looked at him over his glasses. “Is something wrong?”

Apollo reddened slightly. “No, it’s just…I’ve never seen you look…casual?”

It wasn’t as though Klavier dressed to the nines on a daily basis, but even in a t-shirt, he usually exuded the effortless glamour of celebrity photo shoot, or at the very least the appearance of having just stepped out of an advertisement for a sale on V-neck shirts.

Klavier laughed. “Ja, this is a rare sight.” He ran his fingers through his bangs and grinned up at Apollo.  “Finals week is one of the few things that trumps my natural instinct to be beautiful.”

“What a tragedy,” Apollo deadpanned, and Klavier gave him a brilliant grin and snapped his fingers.

For a while, studying together was no different from an evening at the library, excepting the moment when Klavier’s Blue Badger plush toppled over and startled Apollo so badly that he sent a few of his notebooks spilling to the floor. The badger was temporarily banished to the opposite corner of the room, its head bowed shamefacedly, and their quiet work resumed.

“Ughhh,” Apollo sighed an hour later, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. “This practice test is a nightmare. I don’t even know if what I’m writing makes sense anymore.”

“For which one?”

“All of them,” Apollo groaned, without opening his eyes. “But fourteen, specifically.” He was pretty sure his answer to the question was just legal word salad.

Beneath him, the bed shifted, and Apollo opened his eyes with a start.

“Let me see,” Klavier said, hopping onto the mattress and settling beside him.

Apollo hardly had a chance to react before Klavier was leaning across him, bracing himself with one hand on the mattress behind Apollo’s back in order to see his computer screen.

He was very close. Not that this was particularly unusual for Klavier, but in this moment, sitting on Klavier’s bed with barely an inch between them, with Klavier practically poised to tumble into Apollo’s lap, Apollo was acutely aware of it.

Distantly, Apollo knew he was staring, and he hoped that his answer on the practice test was convoluted enough to require Klavier’s full attention for the moment.

Klavier had freckles across his nose. They were faint, but Apollo was suddenly thankful for the entire concept of finals, for persuading Klavier to lapse on his makeup routine.

His eyes trailed from Klavier’s freckles to his lips, which were bowed in a familiar thoughtful pout. They looked very soft—a theory Apollo had evidence to support, since Klavier always had a stick of lip balm on hand. Swallowing, Apollo wrenched his attention elsewhere, and found his gaze settling on Klavier’s eyes instead.

Klavier was focused intently on the screen, reading through Apollo’s response with more attention than Apollo thought it really deserved. But, of course he was. Klavier didn’t do things halfheartedly.

Apollo had seen many sides to Klavier over the last few months, but he thought that this one was his favorite—the one where he could see, just beneath the surface, what Klavier was going to become. Really, it was wrong to call it a “side” of him—it was at the heart of who he was, a passionate dedication to everything he cared about that gave color and dimension to the genius law student and the frivolous wannabe rock star who Apollo had once found so irritating.

He was going to be an amazing lawyer. Not because of his grades, not because of his brother’s shining reputation, but because he truly believed in the importance of the job. It was an idealism that reminded him of all the people he had grown up admiring, regardless of what side of the courtroom they stood on.

After a long minute, Klavier finished reading and turned, and Apollo was startled out of his daze.

“Your answer is solid,” Klavier told him, then gave him an amused smile. “But you could have said the same thing in half as many words.”

“R-right,” Apollo stammered, struggling to untangle his thoughts from Klavier’s features. “Yeah. Thanks.”

A crease formed between Klavier’s eyebrows. He was still sitting rather close. “Is something wrong?”

Apollo quickly shook his head. “No, nothing. Just, uh, tired.”

Klavier smiled. “Then perhaps a study break is in order. We’ve been at this for a while. Wouldn’t want to put any permanent creases in that forehead of yours.” He tapped Apollo’s forehead with one finger, then slid off the bed.

“Hey!” Apollo protested, rubbing his forehead, but Klavier only snickered and crossed the room to where his guitars were lined up against the wall. He plucked one from its stand and settled back into his spot on the floor, but he had only strummed a few notes before he stopped abruptly and placed a hand over the strings to quiet them. His shoulders slouched somewhat.

“Ach, sorry. I forgot you aren’t a fan. This is my usual study break, but…”

“It’s fine,” Apollo said. “You can play.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m pretty used to it now anyway. I think I started suffering withdrawals this week, since you weren’t in the quad.”

“Then my diabolical plan is working,” Klavier mused, as he started picking out a melody that Apollo thought sounded familiar.

“Is that one of the Gavinners’?” he asked. He couldn’t recall if he had heard it at the concert, but he was sure he recognized it.

Klavier didn’t look up. “Nein, just something I’m working on.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Do you like it?” Now Klavier looked up, meeting Apollo’s eyes from under his bangs.

“It seems kind of different from the usual Gavinners stuff. It’s nice.”

Klavier grimaced. “A bit of a backhanded compliment there, Forehead.”

Apollo had to concede this. “Sorry. It’s nice. Reminds me a little of…what’s his name. Jingly Jove.”

Klavier snorted. “Jangly Jove.”

“That’s it. Reminds me of him.” Apollo realized Klavier was still laughing, and pouted. “Hey, it’s a weird name, okay? Jingly…jangly…”

“Jingly Jove is the Christmas album,” Klavier said, between giggles.

“Really?”

“Pfft. Nein, but it should be.” His laughter finally subsided, and he sighed. “I’m impressed you could hear that, though. Glad you made use of that CD.”

“Oh, jeez, I still haven’t given that back, have I?” Apollo recalled. “Sorry. Yeah, I don’t know. It’s relaxing? Something about his music is really…comforting.”

“You can keep the CD,” Klavier said. “And, in that case…”

He returned his attention to his guitar and started plucking out the melody to what happened to be one of Apollo’s favorites from the album.

When Klavier reached the chords of the first verse, Apollo was half-humming, half-singing before he realized what he was doing. He stopped abruptly once he noticed, and Klavier looked up.

“Go on,” he prompted. “You sounded good.”

Apollo shook his head. “I’m not a singer.”

“Oh, come on.” Klavier started back at the top of the song, eying Apollo encouragingly. “I’ll harmonize.”

Apollo shook his head, but Klavier kept up his entreating stare, playing the notes of the intro ever slower as he approached the beginning of the first verse. He strummed the last three chords in an exaggerated manner, his eyes still on Apollo, and as he took one last deep breath, Apollo finally relented.

The song was called Magic. It was about a woman the singer loved, and although the lyrics were simple, it stirred something in Apollo’s heart that he couldn’t quite explain.

He fell short of a few notes in the verse, but he remembered the chorus better, and managed to carry the tune even with Klavier singing a harmony. Even so, his heart was pounding with an unfamiliar nervousness. Singing wasn’t a common pastime of his, and he was sure that his inexperience was evident to someone as skilled as Klavier.

Apollo trailed off after the chorus—he couldn’t recall how the second verse started—and Klavier brought the song to a premature end with a strum of a chord.

“You have a nice voice,” Klavier told him, with an appraising look in his eye. Apollo scoffed and Klavier shook his head. “No, I mean it. Untrained, ja, but the timbre…it’s actually quite similar to Jove.”

“Sure,” Apollo said, dismissive. His face still felt flushed, and he was pretty sure Klavier was messing with him. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, Klavier went on.

“I’m not kidding,” he said earnestly, tilting his head to catch Apollo’s eyes. “Quite honestly, it’s a bit eerie.”

Apollo let out a short, disbelieving laugh and looked away. He was blushing again, but for a different reason.

“Well, you don’t have to believe me,” Klavier said, idly strumming a few chords. “But if you ever want voice lessons…”

Trailing off, Klavier resumed playing, his fingers drifting back to his original song. Not quite willing to get back to studying, Apollo just leaned against the wall and watched him. At first, Klavier just played snatches of the melody Apollo recognized from outside his window, but after a while, he seemed to get more serious, and Apollo got the sense he was being treated to an impromptu performance.

But it wasn’t a performance like Apollo was used to. At the concert, and when he played on the picnic bench in the quad, Klavier was putting on a show—glancing up frequently, grinning at his audience…in all, he was playing the entertainer. Now, his head remained bowed over his guitar, his hands expertly roving over the strings, and for the second time that day, Apollo found himself unable to look away.

This is bad. Despite Clay’s pestering throughout the semester, Apollo had remained fully convinced that he didn’t hold any particular feelings for Klavier beyond friendship and respect. Now, he had to wonder when exactly he had started lying to himself—his bracelet didn’t help him pick out his own tells.

Klavier, oblivious to Apollo’s internal turmoil, finished his song with an arpeggiated chord, letting the sound hang in the room for a moment before putting a hand over the strings.

“And that’s all I have for now,” he said, looking up once the notes had faded. “Thoughts?”

Your existence is unfair and irrationally hating you was a lot easier than whatever this is, Apollo’s brain suggested. He kept that to himself.

“I like it,” he said instead. Klavier smiled, and Apollo thought he saw something like relief in the expression.

“I might play it at a concert, if Daryan lets me do a solo,” Klavier told him.

“Does it have words?”

Klavier fiddled with his bangs, and something about the action struck Apollo as odd. “Nein, not yet.”

“It would be cool just as an instrumental piece,” Apollo mused. “Although I’m not sure how that would fit into your concert.”

Klavier let out a short laugh. “Mm, perhaps not.”

“I’d like to hear it if you ever finish it, though,” Apollo added, somewhat hesitantly.

Klavier didn’t quite look at him, but the expression on his face was one Apollo realized he recognized, a soft, secret smile.

“You’ll be the first to know,” Klavier assured him.

After that, they decided they had better get back to their study guides. Apollo, eager for an excuse to escape his thoughts, threw himself wholeheartedly into the next question, and, after a while, his confused feelings where momentarily lost under a flood of legal terminology, much to his relief.

~~~

When Apollo returned to his room, Clay was at his desk for once, surrounded by a number of empty coffee cups and notebooks filled with scientific equations written in his tiny scrawl. Some of the coffee cups were also covered in notes. In place of his visor, a crown made from the pieces of his organic chemistry model kit adorned his head. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“How was studying?” Clay asked, turning when he heard Apollo come in.

“It was…” Halfway through the sentence, Apollo was struck with a memory of Klavier’s profile, inches away as they sat beside each other on the bed. “…fine.”

His tone betrayed him. A spark of understanding lit up in Clay’s eyes.

“Ohoho, do tell.” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, the circlet of carbon molecules on his head sliding forward dangerously.

“There’s nothing to tell!” Apollo protested, but it was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, so you’re disappointed,” Clay said, nodding. “Fair enough. Well, about time you realized.”

“There’s nothing to realize!” Apollo realized a second too late that he was starting to sound like a broken, and somewhat squeaky, record.

“Oh, Pollo,” Clay sighed. “How will you ever hope to find the truth in court if you can’t see the truth in your own heart?”

For a moment, Apollo was truly thrown. His faced screwed up in confusion. “What are you even saying?”

Clay paused a moment, considering. “I don’t know. I watched a really dramatic movie yesterday at like 3 a.m. and I’ve had a lot of coffee. But seriously. Can you at least admit that you have a crush on Klavier? It would make my life a thousand times easier.”

“Your life?”

“Yes. You know how hard it is to give you dating advice when you won’t admit you want to date someone?”

“I don’t—”

“Apollo. Apollo. I can’t do this with you right now. I have been synthesizing molecules all day. If I have to try to convince you now, I will literally start using Sn2 reactions as metaphors. No one wants that.” He leveled a grim stare at Apollo. “Also! I lost my last oxygen molecule. So don’t test me.”

A red ball was sticking up from one of the chemical bonds adorning Clay’s head. Wordlessly, Apollo pointed to his own head, and Clay imitated the action, his face lighting up when he touched the plastic pieces of the model kit.

“My oxygen molecule!” he exclaimed, once he had disentangled the pieces from his hair. After a brief reunion, he pointed at Apollo severely. “Do not think that this gets you off the hook.”

Apollo sighed and put down his book bag. He settled resignedly on his bed.

“Everyone has a crush on him,” he said finally. Clay looked up from the model he was building.

“Yeah, and now you have to include yourself with ‘everyone.’ I never knew my best friend was so mainstream.” Clay sighed mournfully. “What was it that did you in? Was it the German? The guitar? That sultry voice? That luscious hair?”

“Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Apollo grumbled.

“Well, as you said, everyone has a crush on him, so…”

“I d—”

Clay whirled around and glared at him, brandishing a half-finished molecule. “From now on, every time you say that, you owe me twenty additional dollars when you start dating.”

Apollo closed his mouth.

“That’s better.”

With a heavy sigh, Apollo let himself fall backwards onto his bed. “I can’t date Klavier.”

“Oh, so are you admitting you want to, now?” Apollo just lifted his head to glare and Clay laughed. “Sorry. Why not?”

“I don’t know…he’s Klavier Gavin? He’s probably dated like a million people.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Clay mused. “What is that, like…”—Clay did some calculations on his fingers—“…a hundred and thirty people a day? Since birth?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, but seriously. I’ve never seen him with anyone. I don’t think he dates much. I mean, wouldn’t you know?”

Apollo had to concede that he had never heard Klavier mention a significant other, which seemed…significant…given that they saw so much of each other.

 “Yeah, but…”

“And why would that even matter? He spends a ton of his time with you.”

“That’s because we’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re running a club, you’re in the same classes, I know. But he—” Clay sighed. “Okay, you know what? I’ll be happy today if you just admit you like him. That is all I need to rescue me from the dark, cold depths of organic chemistry.”

Apollo lifted his head again to raise an eyebrow at him. Clay stared right back.

“Fine.” Apollo’s voice was quiet. “I like him.”

“You like who?”

“I like Klavier.”

“Now, do you just like him, or do you like like him?”

“Clay, I swear—”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Thank you. Now I can return to my studies with renewed strength.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Apollo dragged himself into an upright position. “I’m gonna get dinner. Want to come?”

“I’m good.” Clay gestured vaguely at his coffee cups.

Apollo thought about protesting his roommate’s questionable diet, but decided against it, grabbing his ID and leaving Clay alone with his organic chemistry.

~~~

Finals began in earnest the next day, and since they didn’t share all of their classes, Apollo only saw Klavier briefly, in passing and during certain exams. Klavier told him he could come by to study again, but Apollo made excuses not to. He wasn’t sure his studies would be served by another few hours alone with Klavier.

There was a reason Apollo had been denying his feelings so long. With all the time he spent in Klavier’s company, it was much less stressful to convince himself he was perfectly satisfied with their current relationship than it was to admit that he might want something else. Because if he admitted there was something else, then he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it, especially when they were together.

The holidays would be a good break, he decided. If he didn’t see Klavier every day, it would be easier to remind himself that no matter how he felt about his friend, there was absolutely no evidence that Klavier felt the same. And, as Klavier’s own brother was in the habit of reminding him, evidence was everything.

Dent’s exam was Apollo’s last. It was a blessing and a curse—he appreciated the extra study time, but he was really ready for a break.

When he finally handed in his test and stepped out into the slight December chill, Klavier was waiting for him.

“Oh, hey.” Apollo hadn’t noticed exactly when Klavier had finished his test—he hoped it hadn’t been too much earlier than him. “You didn’t need to wait.”

Klavier shrugged. “You’re leaving this afternoon, ja? I wanted to make sure I caught you before then.”

“I’ll still be in the city,” Apollo pointed out, then noticed that Klavier looked surprised. “Where did you think I was going?”

Now Klavier seemed embarrassed. “I…Khura’in, maybe? I know Nahyuta is going back…”

Apollo chuckled. “Nah, I usually stay with Clay and his dad over the holidays. Going back to Khura’in would be…well, I dunno. It’s been a while since I visited.”

“Ah.” Klavier shuffled his feet. “Well. Then I suppose this does not need to be the grand farewell I was anticipating.”

“Haha, not really. I’ll still be working for Kristoph, too. What are you doing for the holidays?”

More students were finishing the exam, so Apollo and Klavier started walking across the main quad to avoid the throng leaving the classroom.

“I’m staying at the Gavinners house,” Klavier said. “Since we have a lease, there’s no reason for me to bother Kris by occupying one of his extra bedrooms.”

“Oh, so we’ll both be around.”

Klavier nodded. “We’ll have to make plans to hang out.”

It wasn’t a question, but the way Klavier glanced at him, sideways out of the corner of his eye, made it seem like one.

Apollo hesitated just a moment. “Yeah. Definitely.”

They reached Apollo’s dorm and stopped near the door.

“Uh, I think Mr. Terran’s on his way, so…” Apollo began. The excuse sounded awkward to his ears. This was another reason he had been avoiding his feelings—nothing had really changed, but now Apollo suddenly felt the need to glance at his reflection in a nearby window, to make sure he wasn’t blushing.

“Of course,” Klavier said. “I won’t keep you.”

Suddenly, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Apollo in a brief hug.

“Have an excellent holiday, Apollo,” he said. His voice was normal, but he spoke directly into Apollo’s ear, and the sound made Apollo shiver.

Apollo was so surprised that he didn’t even had a chance to lift his arms and return the embrace before Klavier was releasing him.

“Uh, you too.” Now, Apollo didn’t need the window reflection to tell him he was blushing. “I’ll, um. See you around?”

Klavier smiled and nodded. “I hope so.”

With that, he gave a small wave and turned, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the edge of campus. Apollo watched him go.

“…oh Pollo.”

Apollo jumped. Clay stepped around the corner of the building.

“Shut up,” Apollo said immediately.

Clay held up his hands defensively. “Okay, first I need you to know that I was here first and I didn’t mean to spy, but oh Pollo.”

“Shut up.”

“Pollooooooo...”

“Stop! No! Objection!”

Clay held up a finger. “Okay, fine. But we are not done talking about this.”

Apollo made a show of glancing around their vicinity. “Have you seen Nahyuta? Suddenly I think I should go to Khura’in after all…”

Living with the Terrans was always an experience. Clay’s father was a professor of geology at another university in the city, and as a result, the apartment was cluttered with rocks collected from various field trips around the world. Peter Terran himself was an eccentric man from whom Clay had inherited his untamable dark hair, contagious friendliness, and passion for science. The fact that Clay was obsessed with other planets, while Peter was obsessed with this one, was just a detail.

The apartment had three bedrooms, but Apollo and Clay always slept on Clay’s bunk beds. Clay was an only child, but he had always had bunk beds, although the lower bunk remained unoccupied except when Apollo was around. The third bedroom was Dr. Terran’s study, and contained an even higher concentration of rock samples than the rest of the home, so it wasn’t exactly available for guests.

For the first couple days of break, Apollo was so occupied with settling in at the Terran household that he barely thought about Klavier, aside from fending off Clay’s questions about the goodbye he had witnessed. Maybe, he told himself, his crush really had been a result of spending too much time together after all.

Or so he thought. But then Clay found him late Sunday evening, lying on his back in his bunk, staring up at his phone in his hands and repeatedly opening, and then closing, the messaging app.

“Just text him, Pollo,” Clay sighed, scrambling up the bedposts onto his own bunk.

Apollo flinched and almost dropped his phone on his face. “I’m not--!”

“Oh, come on. You see him almost every day for a semester, and then suddenly you don’t have any excuses to run into him, so now you’re staring at your phone wondering how to start a conversation when you can’t use going to the library as an opening line.”

Apollo muttered something about giving Klavier some space.

“Okay, fine.” Apollo could practically hear Clay rolling his eyes. “But if you do this for the entire break, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

That was a threat if there ever was one. But for now, Apollo put down his phone and tried to get to sleep.

~~~

Apollo’s next day started early at Gavin Law Offices. Kristoph had granted him a week off for finals, but they had both agreed that Apollo would benefit from longer hours during the time he didn’t have class, to get a better sense of what it was really like to work at a busy law office.

Kristoph’s office door was closed when he arrived, so Apollo set upon sorting some of the files that had accumulated on his desk in his absence. As he worked, he thought he heard voices drifting down the hall from Kristoph’s office. That was unusual; the door was pretty thick, so whoever was in the office had to be speaking loudly.

Then the door cracked open, and Apollo quickly returned his attention to his desk, not eager to appear as though he had been eavesdropping. Footsteps came down the hall, and just as Apollo started to glance up to get a peek at whoever Kristoph had been meeting—

“Oh! Herr Forehead!”

The footsteps stopped in front of Apollo’s desk, and Apollo looked up to see Klavier.

He looked faintly winded, but that made sense—he would have had to have been nearly shouting, for Apollo to have heard him from his desk. Of course, that explained nothing of why he was here in the first place. Apollo glanced over him—while trying to appear as if he wasn’t—on the off chance Klavier’s appearance would offer any clues. He was still wrapped up in a dark purple coat, so Apollo doubted he had been here long, but other than that, and the slight flush on his cheeks that could have been from either the seasonal cold, or a recent argument, Apollo could ascertain nothing.

“Klavier,” he said, unable to keep the note of surprise from his voice. “Hey.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Klavier leaned over Apollo’s desk and spoke in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Are you doing anything for lunch?”

“Uh, not really.” Something about Klavier’s tone made Apollo glance towards Kristoph’s office.

“Meet me at the ramen place down the street around noon?”

“Oh. Sure.” Internally, Apollo was actually a little uncertain. He only ever worked afternoons during school, and he wasn’t sure what Kristoph thought of long lunch breaks.

Kristoph’s voice drifted from the office. “Justice, do you have the Cassidy records?”

Apollo raised his voice. “Yes, sir. I’ll get those right away!”

“Thank you. And Klavier? I don’t recall hiring you to lurk in my hallway. Please be on your way.”

Klavier didn’t answer his brother, just shot a glare in the direction of his office and rolled his eyes.

“I suppose I had better be on my way,” he said. “See you soon.”

Klavier clasped Apollo’s shoulder briefly, then stepped past him and strode down the hall to the reception area.

“Uh, yeah—” Apollo said faintly, several seconds too late. The front door opened and shut.

Apollo shook himself, located the files Kristoph had asked for, and brought them to his boss’s office.

“Here you go, sir.”

Kristoph accepted the records. “Thank you. And Justice?”

“Yes, sir?” Apprehension prickled in Apollo’s stomach.

“You’re pragmatic. I like that about you.”

“Um. Thank you…?”

“Don’t let my younger brother ruin that,” Kristoph went on. Apollo gulped.

“Oh. Um. Yes, sir.”

~~~

Apparently, most of the employees at Gavin Law Offices took a thirty-minute lunch. Apollo had planned to leave the office at noon, but thanks to a number of small tasks that Kristoph had assigned him, he didn’t make it out until twelve-thirty. He couldn’t help but wonder if the delay was intentional, given Kristoph’s earlier comments.

When he arrived, Klavier was still there, waiting at a table and sipping an iced tea.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Apollo said breathlessly—he had practically run to the restaurant. “Kristoph—”

“Ja, I know,” Klavier said. “Don’t worry, I just got here. I know Kris too well.”

Apollo blinked. “Oh.” He caught his breath. “Wait, what?”

“I told you noon, but I knew we were within earshot, and I knew he would keep you late.” Klavier shrugged. “One learns to plan around these things.”

Apollo processed this, then frowned. “You could have told me.”

Klavier, who had been brushing his fingers through his bangs in a self-satisfied sort of way, froze. “Ach. Ja, I could have. I’m sorry, Forehead. I did not intend to add stress to your lunch break.”

“It’s fine.” Apollo waved a hand. “Okay, I’m starving.”

A few minutes later, they had received their food, and any irritation Apollo had felt towards the Gavin brothers evaporated with the fragrant steam rising from his bowl. He blew on his noodles, waiting for them to cool, and debated asking Klavier why he had heard raised voices from Kristoph’s office that morning. The question seemed a little rude, so he opted for something safer.

“What brought you to the office this morning?” he asked mildly.

Klavier shrugged. “Just had to give something to Kris.” He paused, glancing up at Apollo without raising his head. “But you heard us, didn’t you?”

Apollo shook his head hurriedly. “It’s none of my business—”

“No, it’s okay,” Klavier assured him. “We just had a bit of an argument. Happens a lot.”

Apollo was determined not to pry, but he must have looked curious, because Klavier went on without prompting.

“There was an opportunity to do a few weeks of work at the prosecutor’s office over break. Kristoph wanted me to do it. And so did I, but Daryan and I have been planning to use this break to record a few songs for months now.” Klavier sighed. “So, I chose the band this time. For once. And Kris won’t let it go.” Klavier paused to irritably slurp some noodles. “It’s as if an entire summer internship and all my classes mean nothing now that I’ve decided to focus on music for all of two weeks.”

“Ah.” Now, Kristoph’s comment made more sense. Klavier looked up, one eyebrow raised knowingly.

“What did he say to you?”

“Oh, just…not to let you make me less pragmatic,” Apollo said, grimacing.

Klavier scoffed. “Pragmatic. It isn’t pragmatism, or a lack thereof. He’s just never been passionate about a single thing in his life.”

“Vongole?” Apollo suggested.

Klavier let out a breath. “Ja, okay. I’ll give him that. But he never seems to understand…” Klavier trailed off, arranging his words. “There is apparently nothing I can do to convince him that I can be serious about my career and about my music. For him, the band is hard evidence that I’m not dedicated to law. I just want to—” Klavier’s voice dropped, and for a moment Apollo thought he was muttering gibberish until he realized that Klavier was simply finishing the sentence in German.

“…what was that?”

Klavier looked up. “Sorry. It is wonderfully satisfying to be angry in German—the most expressive of all languages, ja?” He took a breath, then enunciated more clearly in English: “I just want to get my badge, face him in court, and be the first to destroy that perfect record of his.”

“Ah.”

Klavier suddenly looked worried. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Do you think we spend our time in his office gossiping?”

“Nein. But apparently he spends it moralizing.” Klavier grumbled into his noodles. “Pragmatic.”

“Now I’m a little concerned that he thinks I’m pragmatic,” Apollo admitted.

Shaking his head, Klavier put down his chopsticks with a decisive click. “He’s wrong. Not to say you aren’t a sensible person, but it’s like I was saying when we first met to talk about the club.”

Apollo thought back. That meeting at the Vine seemed like forever ago.

“You care about justice,” Klavier continued. “Not winning, not renown, not money. Justice, and the truth. And if Kris thinks you’re just like him, or that he can twist you into something just like him, he’s wrong.”

Apollo stared at him for a moment, openmouthed. The noodles he held halfway to his mouth slipped off his chopsticks with a quiet plop.

“I thought you looked up to your brother,” he said faintly.

Klavier frowned. “I do. He’s an incredibly skilled lawyer. I’m proud to call him my brother, and I hope to stand in court as his equal one day.” Klavier took a breath. “However. I realized a long time ago that he and I see things differently. I see passion, and heart, and music in the law. He sees evidence and absolutes.” Klavier sighed, his anger fading. “I would be perfectly content to agree to disagree. I just wish that he was, as well.”

“Evidence is everything,” Apollo recited, almost without thinking, before fishing his noodles back out of his bowl.

“Ah, he’s gotten to you, too,” Klavier laughed. “It’s catchy, isn’t it? But…blinkered, I believe. The law is too complex to be reduced to a memorable motto. People are too complex. But as long as it works for him, he will never change.”

“And that’s why you need to beat him,” Apollo said.

“Exactly.” Klavier smiled.

“Is that why you want to be a prosecutor?”

Klavier thought about this for a moment. “Would you think me petty if I said yes?”

“Hm…” Apollo frowned. “Maybe if that was your only reason.”

“Ah ha ha. Not my only reason, no. There’s plenty of the typical ‘finding the truth and putting rightful criminals behind bars’ mixed in, too. Someone has to keep those pesky defense attorneys in check, ja?” He winked.

“Right,” Apollo said, rolling his eyes to disguise his smile.

Klavier glanced at his watch. “And now I have consumed your entire lunch break with my brother drama,” he apologized. “My apologies, Forehead.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s…I mean, I don’t mind listening. It’s kind of nice knowing that other families have issues, too.”

In truth, he felt like he had learned something important about Klavier in the past few minutes. The slight tension that he had noticed between the Gavin brothers made a lot more sense now. Not to mention…

It really wasn’t fair for someone to be that attractive while talking about the law, of all things. Although, Apollo was perhaps biased.

Klavier laughed. “Ach, I keep forgetting. Herr Khura’in has his own family complications. I shouldn’t complain.”

Apollo grimaced. He knew Klavier meant “Herr Khura’in” jokingly, but given that Apollo’s foster father really had married into the royal Khura’in family, he danced closer to the truth than he realized. Apollo didn’t even want to get into that.

“No, please, complain away,” he told Klavier. “It’s refreshing, honestly. And Nahyuta went through that phase where he hated the entire concept of defense attorneys, so I sorta understand.”

That gave Klavier pause. “…what?”

“It’s a long story. How up-to-date are you on Khura’inese current events?”

“Not very,” Klavier admitted.

“Well, in short, he has this awful aunt…basically, he sent me a scathing email. He’s still kind of nasty about it, but now he at least understands that Khura’in is in the minority when it comes to their opinions on how trials work.” Apollo realized he was about to go on a long tangent and reigned himself in. “Anyway, maybe Kristoph will change his opinions, too.”

“Ja, perhaps,” Klavier said, though his tone was doubtful. “But beating him in court certainly won’t hurt.”

Apollo had to agree with that. With his lunch break running short, the two of them finished their food quickly, and on the walk back to the office, Apollo tried to summarize the current state of the conflict in Khura’in. He was pretty sure he only made Klavier more confused, but he could see the interest in his eyes, and he suspected that he had better brush up on the issue before he spoke to Klavier next.

And he was thankful for the distraction, because he could more easily push his thoughts regarding Klavier himself to the back of his mind for now. He was sure they wouldn’t stay there, but at least, when he returned to Gavin Law Offices, he could count on Kristoph to give him enough work to prevent his mind from wandering back to his boss’s younger brother.

~~~

Klavier met him for lunch a couple more times that week, but not every day, as the Gavinners were trying to squeeze in a lot of recording before everyone scattered for the holidays. As Apollo predicted, Klavier did come to their next lunch armed with a more thorough understanding of the Kingdom of Khura’in, and their discussion about the brewing revolution occupied their entire half-hour. The third day, they talked about the Gavinners, and Klavier explained how the band had come together at Themis. Apollo hadn’t realized it before—and recalling their first lunch conversation, he felt a little guilty about it—but Klavier really was serious about his band. It hadn’t occurred to Apollo that he had goals beyond playing college concerts and selling CDs in the student center.

They texted each other throughout the week, too, so Clay didn’t need to intervene as he had threatened. However, that didn’t stop him from needling Apollo about the status of his and Klavier’s relationship. Clay insisted that now was the time to make a move, but Apollo ignored him. For now, he was just happy that he and Klavier had moved past studying and the club being their only common ground. They had been friends before, of course, but the time they had spent together was largely due to their similar class schedules and their shared club obligations. Their lunches were separate from both of those things, and now Apollo was starting to feel like they had something that he was loathe to ruin by rocking the boat.

So he was content to let things be. Clay had other plans.

“Hey, Pollo, we have a problem,” Clay told him when Apollo returned to their room the following Sunday, after spending the morning window shopping. He had big plans for his first sizeable paycheck, namely, an actual suit. Clay, who had been busy that morning, forbade him from buying anything without his input, but Apollo had his eye on something, and Clay would have to break out his best arguments if he wanted to talk Apollo out of it.

Now, Clay was lying on his back on his bunk, his head hanging off the edge and his visor only supported by the bristly mess that was his hair. His expression was grave, although the effect was diminished by the fact that it was upside-down.

“What…?” Apollo was almost scared to ask. Clay’s “problem” could be anything from “I lost my favorite spaceship eraser” to “I accidentally set all your belongings on fire trying to make a grilled cheese.”

“I was bored and I kept thinking about what you said about Klavier Gavin dating one-hundred and thirty people per day since birth—”

“That’s not what I said,” Apollo interjected.

“It’s equivalent to what you said. Anyway, you left your laptop up here last night, so I used your account to look for evidence of these multitudes of significant others on Insta and I accidentally liked a picture from last year’s homecoming formal while logged in as you.”

Apollo stared at him as this information processed. “What.”

“But on the bright side, I only saw like two pictures that were remotely couple-y and they were both him and Daryan. So! I was right! He doesn’t date much.” Clay beamed.

“You hacked into my computer instead of using your own.”

“I didn’t hack it. Your passwords are like, the most obvious in the world. And you left it up here, which is practically permission.”

“Clay!” Apollo was unable to keep a note of desperation from his tone.

“Don’t worry. Here, look. At least it’s a good pic.” Clay sat up and slid Apollo’s laptop towards him across the bed.

“You didn’t un-like it?!” Apollo asked incredulously, noting the red heart under the image before anything else.

“The damage was done, Pollo. Come on, look. Isn’t his hair, like, goals?”

Apollo looked at him sideways. “Did you even brush your hair this morning?”

“Beside the point. You’re not looking.”

Apollo sighed heavily and directed his attention to the photo.

“…oh.”

“Right?? Like, damn.”

This isn’t fair, Apollo thought. On the screen, Klavier was clad in a deep purple tux (unsurprising) with one arm thrown around Daryan. He head was turned to the side (because he was pressing a kiss to Daryan’s temple--surprising) so the camera had a clear view of the intricate updo into which his platinum locks were wound.

“Are you going to admit you want to date him now?” Clay asked.

“Are you?” Apollo returned, but it was a weak comeback. He was so envious of the Daryan in the picture that it hurt.

Clay was grinning at him in a satisfied way that Apollo did not appreciate, so he swiftly closed the window and snapped his laptop shut, placing it far out of reach on his own bunk. He realized too late that he had also neglected to un-like the picture, but Clay was probably right. The damage was done.

“You did that on purpose,” Apollo accused.

“Do you have evidence, Herr Forehead?” Clay shot back.

Apollo pointed at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? Because it’s Klavier’s name for you?”

Apollo opened his mouth, then closed it again, scowling. “Yes,” he said finally, in a voice that was barely audible.

“Mm-hm.”

With an aggrieved expression, Apollo collapsed onto his bunk, his face buried in the pillow.

“Claaaaaay,” he moaned mournfully.

“Apollooooooo,” Clay mimicked. “Has he texted you this afternoon?”

“No,” Apollo replied, his voice muffled. “When did you commit this heinous crime?”

“I thought Klavier was the dramatic one,” Clay remarked. “It was like an hour ago.”

And no contact from Klavier since. The logical part of Apollo’s brain tried to tell him that this wasn’t exactly an emergency, and he could just tell Klavier the truth and laugh it off, but he also did not want to be the one to bring it up.

And why did it have to be that picture? Why not just a picture of Klavier alone? Why the one with him kissing Daryan?

The answer, of course, was because Clay Terran was a scheming mastermind, and the world would be a safer place when he was up in space where he couldn’t perpetrate any villainy.

~~~

Klavier didn’t text him that evening, and Apollo wondered if it was too much to hope that the notification would go unnoticed. Sure, he would be left with the question of whether or not Daryan and Klavier had ever dated, and a vivid mental image of what Klavier looked like while kissing someone on the forehead, but Apollo could survive those things. Maybe. If he could put them out of his mind long enough to get some work done.

A shadow appeared over Apollo’s desk and he flinched, expecting Kristoph to demand the case file he had requested half an hour ago.

Instead, Klavier stood over him, and Apollo found himself actually wishing that it was the older Gavin after all.

Just as Apollo opened his mouth to greet him, Klavier leaned closer and gently placed his index finger against Apollo’s lips. He cast a meaningful glare towards the open door of Kristoph’s office. Then he grabbed a chair and sat across the desk from Apollo, who raised a questioning eyebrow.

Klavier snagged a legal pad from the corner of Apollo’s desk and turned to a blank page. He wrote something on the first line and flipped the pad around so Apollo could see.

Guten tag ~

Apollo only returned an exasperated stare. Klavier pouted. He turned the pad to himself again and wrote another line.

How are you?

Apollo’s expression didn’t change. Sighing dramatically (but silently), Klavier wrote one more line.

I’m flattered by your interest in my formal pictures ~

Apollo flinched and reddened. Of course it was too much to hope that Klavier would fail to notice the notification. Klavier, for his part, seemed immensely entertained.

That was Clay, Apollo scribbled back furiously. Klavier stifled a laugh.

But my look—it did rock, nein?

Apollo didn’t bother to answer that one, but something in his expression must have caught Klavier’s eye.

You have a question…?

Apollo considered the pad for a long moment before sighing decisively and pulling the pad towards him. He hesitated with his pen above the page before finally writing:

Were you and Daryan together?

Klavier’s eyes glinted.

We weren’t NOT together, he wrote back, then added, we work better as friends.

Apollo wasn’t exactly sure what sort of information he had been hoping to gain from that question. He gazed at Klavier’s loopy handwriting thoughtfully, until Klavier pulled the page back towards himself.

Why do you ask? Klavier wrote. He watched Apollo intently, his expression neutral.

Just curious, Apollo scrawled back, ducking his head so his blush would be less visible. Klavier looked like he wanted to add something more, but suddenly the phone on Apollo’s desk rang, and they both jumped.

Apollo never got calls—the handset was covered in a fine layer of dust. Frowning, he reached to answer, but Klavier beat him to it.

“Wait—” Apollo started to say, but Klavier held up a hand and began speaking.

“Ja, bro, I’m leaving. No need to get cross.”

Apollo was perplexed for a moment, but then he heard the faint sound of Kristoph’s voice coming from the office, doubled tinnily through the phone. Klavier hung up without listening to what his brother had to say.

“How did he…?” Apollo mouthed. “And how did you—”

Klavier just gave a noncommittal shrug and looked sourly towards Kris’s office. He stood, then leaned down to scrawl one more line on the legal pad. With an exaggerated wink, he swept out the door.

Apollo was about to turn the pad around when he heard the floorboards creak from the direction of Kristoph’s office. He slid a book on top of the incriminating evidence just as his boss emerged.

“Please file these,” Kristoph said, placing a thick stack of manila folders on Apollo’s desk. “And Justice?”

“Sir?”

“I’m not paying you to flirt with my brother.”

Apollo reddened. “I wasn’t…we weren’t…”

With one long finger, Kristoph tugged the notepad out from under its hiding place and regarded it coolly. Apollo felt very much like imploding.

“Sir, I—”

Kristoph released the notepad and stepped back, placing another stack of papers on Apollo’s desk.

“Reese is out this week, so these need to be addressed.” Kristoph handed Apollo a stack of envelopes and a book of stamps.

“Okay. Yes.” Apollo picked up the stamps. “Huh. Regular stamps,” he remarked, without thinking.

Kristoph, halfway through turning towards his office, paused. “What was that?”

Apollo blinked. It took him a moment to even remember why he might have considered the stamps particularly uninteresting. “Oh. Sorry, I remembered seeing a Troupe Gramarye stamp on your desk a while back, and…well, nothing is wrong with these, obviously.”

Apollo scratched his head, embarrassed, and glanced at his boss. When he did so, his bracelet suddenly constricted on his wrist like a vice.

“Ow!” he yelped. The feeling was so distracting—and unexpected—that he didn’t even have a chance to search Kristoph’s features to see what might have caused it.

“…Justice?” Kristoph was frowning with concern now, and Apollo’s bracelet relaxed again.

“Sorry. Just…a cramp. My hand. I’m fine. I’ll start with those envelopes, sir. And the files. And the Jensen records from earlier.”

Kristoph’s eyes lingered on him for a moment. “Yes. Please do.”

Turning on his heel, Kristoph returned to his office, and Apollo heaved a sigh of relief.

But as he stepped around his desk to get to the filing cabinets, he noticed his legal pad still resting on his desk, half-obscured by the new files that Kristoph had deposited there. Slowly, as if Kristoph would somehow hear the sound of shifting paper, he freed the page just enough to see Klavier’s final message.

To his chagrin (but not to his surprise), the three words Klavier had left were in German.

It wasn’t until nearly half an hour later, when Kristoph was occupied with a phone call, that Apollo gathered the courage to surreptitiously open Google Translate.

Auf Wiedersehen, Schatz ~

He was pretty certain about “Auf Wiedersehen,” but “schatz”…

For a moment, Apollo forgot to listen for Kristoph’s voice to make sure he was still on the phone, because the internet was informing him that Klavier had just called him “treasure.”

~~~

For the rest of the day, Apollo had a very hard time focusing.

His hand kept drifting to his phone, with the object of texting Klavier, but every time he unlocked the screen, he realized he had no idea what to say and determinedly returned his attention to his work.

He was overthinking this. Klavier was just being Klavier, and he didn’t mean anything by the German endearment. Or maybe Google was…wrong? Maybe it didn’t have the same connotation in German? Apollo pulled up Google again and entered the entire phrase this time, only to be faced with the translation “Goodbye, darling,” instead. That was pretty unambiguous, but maybe—

At the end of the day, Apollo packed his things and, after a glance towards Kristoph’s office, slid the notepad out from under a stack of books. He debated internally for a moment, then quickly ripped out the page and stuffed it in his pocket.

Clay would be thrilled to be asked for advice for once.

~~~

When Apollo presented the notebook page to Clay (and explained the translation), his friend immediately snatched it up, made a show of handling it only by one corner through the sleeve of his shirt, stuffed it in a plastic sandwich bag, and scrawled EXHIBIT A on the outside with a marker.

Apollo shook his head. “I should have known you wouldn’t be normal about this.”

“Your Honor,” Clay announced, although they were the only two people present in his bedroom. “I have some evidence to present to the court.”

“Clay…”

“If you will turn your attention to Exhibit A, I believe the facts are clear.” Clay held up the evidence bag. “Klavier Gavin is flirting with my client.”

“That’s what Kristoph said,” Apollo muttered.

“What?!” Clay practically exploded. “Your boss told you his brother was flirting with you? Apollo, how much more do you need?”

“No, no, that’s not…it wasn’t like that, it was when he was mad at me for not working because Klavier was there.”

“I literally do not care what the context is, your famous lawyer boss called whatever you and Klavier were doing ‘flirting’ and somehow you aren’t convinced?” Clay scanned Apollo’s face, as if searching for a sign he was joking. “And, if that wasn’t enough, during this aforementioned flirting, Klavier called you his ‘treasure’ and/or ‘darling,’ and you’re just blowing this off??”

“He didn’t say his treasure, just treasure,” Apollo pointed out.

“The his is implied! Whose side are you on?”

“The side of…logic and reason!” Apollo spluttered. “The side of not driving myself insane thinking about this!”

“He is practically begging you to ask him out,” Clay argued. “He could not possibly be any clearer.”

“Then why doesn’t he do it?” Apollo returned.

“Because you’re not the one giving him pet names and making excuses to be close to him!” Clay exclaimed. “Apollo, you are the worst at projecting romantic signals. What’s he supposed to do with that?” Clay sighed. “At the very least, you could make it obvious that you’re interested. Then maybe he’ll be kind enough to pick up the slack.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” Apollo asked. “He’s like this with everyone.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’s out there dropping in on everyone at work during his vacation, right?” Clay argued. “Apollo, I am not getting spontaneous visits from Klavier Gavin, in case you were wondering. He is not leaving me notes calling me darling.”

Apollo had to concede that this was true. He sighed and settled onto his bunk. “I just…we have all these classes together, and the club, it’s…I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Clay raised a finger. “First of all, I’m ninety-nine percent sure the club has a betting pool going for you guys, because you’re that obvious. Second.” He raised a second finger, and his voice softened. “You won’t mess it up, Apollo. I promise. You both care about each other, and honestly that’s all there is to it.” He met Apollo’s eyes. “Okay. Say it with me.”

Apollo scowled. “We don’t need to—”

“Say it. ‘I’m Apollo Justice…’” Clay began slowly, waving his hand in an encouraging manner.

“I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine,” Apollo mumbled. Clay frowned at him.

“If that was how you said that to me in middle school, I literally would have started crying.”

“You were already crying,” Apollo reminded him.

“Then I would have started wailing. Now come on. Your face is depressing me. No scowling when you say that, it’s an insult to this hallowed ritual.” Clay glared at him. “I’m Apollo Justice…” he began again.

Apollo sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists.

“I’m Apollo Justice,” he said firmly, then opened his eyes. “And I’m fine.”

“There it is!” Clay crowed, victorious. “See? Don’t you feel better now?”

“No,” he grumbled, but the effect was ruined by the smile struggling beneath his forced scowl.

“Perjury,” Clay accused. “Okay. So you promise, right? You’re gonna do this?”

“I’ll…try,” Apollo agreed.

“Good enough for now,” Clay said. “Here’s your love letter,” he added, returning the evidence bag.

Apollo’s eyes fell to Klavier’s last message. Auf Wiedersehen, Schatz ~ His heart fluttered.

But Klavier didn’t show up at Gavin Law Offices again that week. He didn’t ask if Apollo wanted to join him for lunch, and all of his text messages were brief and delayed.

The week after, Apollo was occupied with the Terran family Christmas, but in the days following, Klavier remained distant. Apollo tried not to read too much into it, but he couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened.

~~~

“God, it’s cold.”

“Apollo,” Dr. Terran called from further up the path, “did you happen to check the weather in Khura’in before we left?”

He hadn’t, but Nahyuta had sent him a Snapchat to wish him a happy new year earlier that afternoon, and he had been kind enough to include a temperature filter to save Apollo the trouble. In the mountains of Khura’in, it was just shy of freezing. Here, it hadn’t even dipped below forty.

He grumbled something inaudible in response to Dr. Terran’s teasing, and Clay laughed.

The three of them were currently participating in a Terran family tradition. Leaving the light pollution of the city far behind, they drove out into the desert, hiked halfway up a rocky slope in the dark, and sat looking over the horizon to watch the stars as the Earth spun into the new year.

It was a tradition Apollo enjoyed, in theory. But he wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, and he had a low tolerance for the desert chill.

“Almost there,” Dr. Terran told him, as they crested the ridge. “Here, Apollo, hold this.”

The professor handed over his backpack, and Apollo staggered under its weight.

“What’s in here? Ro—” Apollo broke off as Dr. Terran raised an eyebrow at him by the light of his flashlight. “Of course. Rocks.”

“You’ve been doing this with us for how many years, again?” Clay asked. He was setting up a tripod, as his father removed a telescope from a padded case. “The answer is always rocks.”

Apollo scowled at him and placed the backpack down on the sandy ground, after determining that the spot was cactus-free. After last year’s incident, he had a particular wariness for cacti.

Once the telescope was set up, they took turns looking at planets to pass the time until midnight. Apollo may not have been an expert in the field, but he had enough amateur interest in space that he knew what he was looking at, and could appreciate the wonder in it. And, now that he had had a chance to extract the thick blanket from his backpack, he was significantly less grumpy.

As midnight grew nearer, the three of them settled on a rock, wrapped in their blankets, and simply watched the sky. Dr. Terran kept an eye on his watch.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

Clay and Apollo joined in. “…six, five, four, three, two…”

“…one! Happy new year!”

The three of them bellowed it across the desert, disturbing the silence of the night just for a moment, their voices echoing down the hillside.

“Hey, shooting star!” Clay exclaimed, just as Apollo saw the light streak across the sky. They marveled at it together, then Clay nudged him.

“Did you wish for anything special?” he asked, his expression sly.

He had, but he wasn’t going to give Clay the satisfaction of knowing as much.

The start of the new semester left Apollo feeling strangely off-balance. His communication with Klavier had been so limited for the past week that he wasn’t even sure what classes they shared (although he could make some guesses). He expected to run into him during his first afternoon class, and decided that, instead of texting him, he would just wait and see.

But instead, Klavier flagged him down in the dining hall at lunch. Apollo scanned his face for any sign that something had changed between them, any explanation for the peculiar radio silence of the past week, but he noticed nothing. Klavier was as pleasant as always, and Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, he had just been imagining things.

And Klavier addressed his lingering concerns almost right away.

“Sorry I’ve been so quiet,” he said, as soon as they sat down at a small table near the windows. “The holidays are a weird time of year. I was staying with Kris for a couple of days, and there were all these cousins…and then Kris was working, so he had me stay and entertain them.” Klavier paused. “Although I suspect he did that on purpose. He was not very happy with me for dropping in on you at work.”

“Yeah, so I gathered,” Apollo said carefully. Clay’s pep talk over vacation was all very encouraging, but those assurances had faded somewhat over the past week, leaving Apollo uncertain again. “How did all your recording go?”

Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs. “Ach, as well as could be expected, I suppose. We plan to do another session, but it’s likely that we won’t be able to schedule it for another couple of months.”

Apollo’s bracelet felt just a hair too tight. Band tensions, maybe?

“Anyway,” Klavier went on breezily, “now I don’t need to brave my brother’s wrath to hang out with you again. You have class with Case this afternoon, ja?”

And so, they quickly settled back into routine. They studied together, shared the occasional meal, and chatted in the quad when Klavier stopped by to play—which was less frequently, now, because even a winter in LA was just chilly enough that no one wanted to spend too much time just sitting outside. At club meetings, they started to prepare for the upcoming mock trial in earnest.

Everything was just as it had been before winter break, with some minor schedule adjustments. And Apollo found himself disappointed by this, although he was irritated at himself for feeling that way.

But he felt as though a moment had passed. Maybe he could have made some sort of gesture over winter break, but now he felt as though he had lost his footing. It was easiest to settle back into their natural routine.

Clay wasn’t so complacent. Sometimes Apollo went to the Gavinners’ house to study, but one notable time, Klavier came to Clay and Apollo’s room instead, and Apollo nearly had to wrestle Clay to the floor before he could dig into Apollo’s desk and reveal that Apollo had been keeping “Exhibit A” in his drawer since the beginning of the semester.

“Klavier’s trying to serenade you again,” Clay said another day, when the sounds of an acoustic guitar started to drift up from the quad.

“No, he’s not,” Apollo returned, although he couldn’t deny that the quad was entirely empty save the lone guitarist. He sighed and grabbed his jacket.

“You finished the reading already?” he asked Klavier as he approached. Klavier’s playing continued on uninterrupted when he glanced up.

“Naturally,” he responded. “Are you procrastinating on the reading?”

“Naturally,” Apollo mimicked. “Nah, I’m almost done. Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s pleasant today. LA winters are nothing compared to German ones,” Klavier said as Apollo hopped up on the picnic bench beside him.

“Fair enough. But your usual audience doesn’t seem to agree.”

Klavier shrugged. “Herr Forehead more than makes up for it.” The Gavinners song he was playing transitioned smoothly down a few chords into something from Jangly Jove’s album. “Did you bring your textbook?”

Apollo was already opening it. “Do you mind?”

“I appreciate the company.”

They sat back-to-back on the picnic table, Apollo slogging through his reading while Klavier played quiet background music.

As Apollo finished the chapter, Klavier was playing through something that sounded familiar, but took Apollo a moment to place.

“That’s the song you’re writing, right?” he asked, when he finally recognized it.

“Mmhm,” Klavier responded.

“Does it have lyrics yet?”

For just a moment, the melody paused, then resumed. “The beginnings of them, ja.”

“What’s it about?” Apollo closed his book and turned around halfway, so he could watch Klavier play over his shoulder.

Klavier picked through the melody at half speed. “Hm. What would be your guess?”

Apollo thought about the Gavinners songs he knew. “Something about the law?”

Klavier chuckled. “Ja, something like that.”

“You ever consider that maybe you’re pandering to a niche audience?”

“I seem to attract enough fans regardless,” Klavier pointed out. His song came to an end, and he set his guitar aside. “Ah, I almost forgot.”

“Hm?”

“I actually came here to show you something.” Klavier rummaged in his backpack. “You remember Trucy Gramarye, ja?”

Apollo looked up. “Of course.” He felt a prickle of apprehension settle in his stomach. “Why? Is she okay?”

“Ja, ja. Here.” Klavier handed him a piece of paper, and Apollo realized that it was a slightly crumpled pamphlet listing a number of campus events. “Thought you might be interested.”

Halfway down the page, a whimsical font announced, Trucy Gramarye Presents: An Evening Spectacular of Mind-Bending Illusions and Awe-Inspiring Magic! The “T” of “Trucy” was adorned with a blue top hat.

“A magic show?”

“She is a Gramarye, after all. Would you like to go?”

Apollo was already nodding. “Yeah, totally.”

For the past few months, Apollo had kept Trucy in the back of his mind. He chalked it up to their similar circumstances—he was worried about her. He had even considered calling Mr. Wright to see how she was doing, but he had never been quite sure how he would bring it up.

So, he was relieved to hear that she was doing well. As the semester started to get busier, the performance fell to the back of Apollo’s mind, but that just made it even more of a relief when, in early March, he finished giving a presentation in his sociology class only to remember that he actually had something to look forward to that evening.

The show was taking place in one of the university’s performing arts theaters, which was occasionally used for community events as well. Apollo was surprised Trucy had been able to secure such a venue; while the theater was no Sunshine Coliseum, it was a pretty impressive place for a thirteen-year-old girl to hold her first performance.

But, as Klavier had said, she was a Gramarye.

And, as it was, the theater was packed. Despite seeing the Troupe on posters around the city, Apollo had never realized how many fans the Gramaryes really had. And although this wasn’t being marketed as a Troupe Gramarye performance—there were, as Apollo understood it, some legal complications, tied up with Zak’s disappearance—Trucy couldn’t exactly prevent the public from recognizing her last name. Apollo was glad that he and Klavier had arrived early.

And, in arriving early, it was easier to spot some familiar faces.

“Apollo! Klavier!” Wright called from a seat in the front row. “I was wondering if we would see you here. Come on, grab a seat.”

“We” was Wright and Edgeworth. The Chief Prosecutor nodded a greeting as Klavier and Apollo sat beside Wright.

“So, you’re still looking after Trucy?” Apollo asked Wright.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s kinda crazy, actually. At first, I really did just want to give her somewhere to stay while social services looked for family members, but…well, they didn’t find any, and we sorta clicked. We’re going through an official adoption process now, actually.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “Wow, congratulations.”

Wright nodded. “It’s been wild. But Maya’s been a big help, when she gets the chance to visit. And Miles, has been, ah...understanding.” He glanced at the Chief Prosecutor, smiling slightly. 

“The request surprised me,” Edgeworth said with a sigh. "You act as though I wasn't entirely in favor of the whole arrangement." Wright laughed.

“I think this took us all by surprise,” he admitted. "But in a good way, for sure." He looked up at the stage, his eyes shining with pride. “And she’s already performing by herself! She wants me to turn Wright and Co. into a talent agency, says we’d get more business.” He laughed.

The four of them chatted as the audience filled up, but they fell silent when the lights began to dim and a few roving spotlights danced across the stage, accompanied by a sparkling musical fanfare.

The show was absolutely delightful. Despite the absence of the complex tricks for which the Gramaryes were known, Trucy was a marvel. Even Apollo, focusing hard, couldn’t always identify the sleight of hand, and eventually he gave up in favor of enjoying himself. Beside him, Wright clapped enthusiastically after each of Trucy’s bows, and even Edgeworth cracked a genuine smile.

“She is an excellent performer,” Klavier said, once Trucy had given her last bow and skipped off the stage, to thunderous applause. “Truly a natural.”

“No kidding,” Apollo said, standing up and stretching. Wright and Edgeworth had already vanished, presumably to meet Trucy backstage and congratulate her. “Should we go say hi?”

“Ja, let’s—” Klavier froze. “Wait, is that—?”

Apollo looked up. “What?”

“I’ll be right back.” Klavier was standing on his toes, craning his neck towards the back of the auditorium.

“Klavier?”

But Klavier was already making his way towards the exit with long strides. Apollo hurried after him, but Klavier only spared him a glance.

“Or come with me. But hurry.”

“Klavier, what’s going on?”

Klavier rounded a corner and started down a hallway that led towards a back exit. There were still a fair amount of people around, some of whom seemed to be waiting here to see Trucy after the show.

Klavier smoothly swerved around a group of young teens—Trucy’s classmates?—but, in doing so, promptly ran into another teenage girl. He stopped short.

“Fräulein, my deepest apologies,” he said, instinctively reaching out a hand to catch the girl before she stumbled. Her hair was an unusual dark indigo color, tied back with a bright bandana.

“You dropped this,” Apollo said when he caught up, reaching down to pick up a notebook that had fallen to the floor in the collision. No, not a notebook—a sketchbook. He returned it to the indigo-haired girl, and she clutched it to her chest.

“Are you all right?” Klavier asked. His voice was sincere, but Apollo’s bracelet tightened slightly on his wrist. He was confused, until he realized that it wasn’t that Klavier wasn’t concerned—he was simply very impatient to get wherever it was he was going.

The girl gave a small nod, which seemed like enough for Klavier. He gave another apologetic smile and hurried on his way, Apollo trailing behind him.

“Klavier…” he began, glancing back at the girl. She was staring after them, wide-eyed, and had lifted one hand to her lips to absently chew at her nails. Beside her, a mustached man who Apollo hadn’t noticed before took her shoulder and leaned down to speak to her.

“I’m sorry, but this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Klavier said from further down the hall. “I just hope I didn’t lose her.”

Who?

They burst out the back doors, and Klavier stopped, scanning the parking lot with sharp eyes.

“Ah!” he cried, then jogged down the sidewalk to where a woman in a long, flowing dress was making her way to the edge of campus. The dress was dark blue and otherwise nondescript, but even from a distance, the woman appeared to walk with an almost surreal grace.

“Lamiroir!” Klavier called, and the woman turned.

To Apollo’s surprise, half of her face was covered by a delicate blue veil. But her eyes struck Apollo as staggeringly familiar, although he could not imagine why.

Klavier slowed now, approaching the woman at a more reasonable pace.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he caught his breath. “I thought I saw you inside, and I…”

The woman spoke a string of words in a language Apollo didn’t understand. Klavier paused, then replied in kind.

After thirty seconds of this, during which Apollo watched, perplexed, as Klavier conversed with this mysterious and beautiful stranger, Klavier finally turned to him.

“Forehead, I’m sorry,” he began. “This is Lamiroir. She is a Borginian singer who I encountered on a short trip to the country, and whose voice has absolutely haunted me ever since. It’s divine.”

“You are too kind,” the woman said, and Klavier looked up.

“Oh! I didn’t know you spoke English.” He flushed. “I could have avoided embarrassing myself with my Borginian.”

She shook her head, a smile in her eyes. “I am not Borginian by birth—I understand the difficulties of the language, so do not worry.” She looked at Klavier. “You are the student who played with me a few years ago.”

“Yes!” Klavier gasped. His entire face lit up. “You remember!”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“When I saw you, I thought I must have been imagining it,” Klavier gushed. “I dragged Forehead all the way out here just to make sure.”

Lamiroir’s eyes fell on Apollo. Unable to see her mouth under the veil, Apollo couldn’t read her expression, but her gray eyes were piercing and filled with an emotion he was unable to identify. “Forehead?” she echoed.

“Ah, I’m sorry. This is my friend, Apollo Justice. I am ashamed to say I have not yet had the chance to introduce him to your music.”

“Nice to meet you—” Apollo started to say, but he broke off when Lamiroir’s eyes widened. Her veil shifted as she drew a sharp breath.

“Apollo…Justice?” she repeated.

“Uh, that’s me,” Apollo confirmed. He found himself unable to look away from Lamiroir’s eyes.

“I…I’m sorry,” she stammered, after what felt like ages. She dropped her gaze. “You…” She muttered something in Borginian, but apparently spoke too quickly for Klavier to understand or translate. “I am sorry. I really must go…”

Frowning, Klavier looked back and forth between Lamiroir and Apollo. “W-wait!”

Lamiroir paused, halfway turned to leave, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if…would it be possible for me to play for you again?” Klavier’s voice was hesitant, and Apollo realized he had never heard him sound quite so uncertain. He held his breath as Lamiroir considered the request.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. For the briefest of moments, her eyes flickered to Apollo. “I do not think that would be wise.”

With that, she turned and hurried down the sidewalk, her skirts swirling around her.

Klavier stared after her, his mouth hanging open slightly, utter disappointment painted across his features.

“Klavier…” Apollo said slowly, after a long moment of silence. “If that was because of me—”

Klavier waved a hand, dismissing the idea. “No, of course not. It was presumptuous for me to ask.”

But Apollo wasn’t so sure. Lamiroir had looked at him, unmistakably, before giving Klavier her decision. It was just a glance, but Apollo felt somehow certain that his presence had been the reason for her refusal, as absurd as that sounded.

And Klavier was too polite to say it, but he thought so, too. As the two of them turned to go back to the theater, he looked sideways at Apollo.

“Did you…know her from somewhere, perhaps?” The question was casual, but Apollo’s bracelet squeezed just the slightest bit.

“I don’t think so,” Apollo said honestly. “But…I dunno. Something about her seemed a little familiar?”

“Hm.” Klavier fell silent. Apollo felt like he should try to apologize again, but he knew Klavier would just brush it off.

The back hallway was still crowded with people; Trucy had finally emerged from backstage and was gleefully posing for pictures and greeting fans. Wright hovered nearby, beaming proudly, while Edgeworth leaned against the wall and watched both of them with a more subdued smile. As Apollo and Klavier approached, Trucy was accepting something from the indigo-haired girl Klavier had bumped into earlier.

“It’s amazing!” she was saying, as the girl gave a nervous smile. “Thank you so much!” She looked up and noticed Apollo and Klavier. “Polly! And Klavier! You came!”

“You were spectacular, fräulein,” Klavier said, smiling. Trucy bounced on her toes and gave a small bow.

“Oh, and look at this!” Trucy held up the gift she had just received. It was a drawing of Troupe Gramarye, with Trucy prominently featured front-and-center. “Vera drew it! Isn’t it great?”

Apollo assumed the indigo-haired girl was Vera. “It’s incredible,” he said, to both of them.

But Vera didn’t look at him; her eyes were fixed on Klavier instead, and she had started chewing on her thumbnail.

“Fräulein Vera, please allow me to apologize again,” Klavier said, noticing her gaze. “I was extremely careless. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Vera didn’t answer. Instead, she shrank closer to the mustached man by her side—Apollo guessed he was her father.

“Ah. I’m sorry,” the father said. “It seems we should be going. Come on, Vera…Thank you again, Miss Gramarye.”

Vera allowed herself to be guided away down the hallway, but she paused a moment to glance back at Klavier, her eyes wide.

“Bye, Vera!” Trucy called, waving. “Thanks for coming!”

Trucy moved on to some of her other fans, and Apollo sidled up to Klavier, who looked troubled.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he said quietly.

“She was staring daggers at me.” Klavier frowned towards the lobby, though Vera and her father were already out of sight. “But I suppose there’s nothing to be done.” He sighed.

A few minutes passed. Klavier struck up a conversation with Edgeworth, and Apollo listened in for a while until Wright tapped him on the shoulder.

“So, still working for Kristoph Gavin?” he asked. “It must be a busy place—I imagine he gets lots of clients.”

“Yeah—plenty of filing for me to do,” Apollo replied.

“Eh, any experience is good experience. Keeping up with files is part of the job.” Wright laughed. “I keep meaning to stop by Gavin’s office, actually,” he went on, a little more quietly. “He hasn’t happened to mention anything about Zak Gramarye, has he?”

Apollo shook his head. “No one at the office really talks about him.”

Wright sighed. “Well, it was a long shot. It’s been great having Trucy, but something like this…it’s a loose end, you know? That can be hard on a kid.”

Apollo definitely knew. He looked towards Trucy, who was posing for a selfie with the kids he thought were probably her classmates. He thought she looked like she was doing a little better than he had been at her age, but appearances could be deceiving.

“She’s strong,” Wright went on. “But putting on a brave face is natural for her. So, if you do hear anything…”

Apollo nodded. “Of course.”

The crowd in the hall finally started to thin, and Apollo and Klavier walked with Trucy, Wright, and Edgeworth back towards the lobby, while Trucy chattered about the show.

“I was a little worried about the birds,” she was saying. “They told me I couldn’t have live ones, and I had to do all sorts of improvising—” She broke off as a siren blared outside. “That sounded really close, huh?”

“It did…” Wright agreed. He and Edgeworth wore matching frowns as they rounded the corner to the lobby.

From outside the glass doors of the theater, the flashing lights of an ambulance painted the walls in alternating shades of red and blue. People gathered around the edge of the room, leaving an open space in the middle around a man kneeling beside a frail body on the floor. Tears were streaming down his face.

With a start, Apollo noticed the indigo hair and recognized Vera.

“Oh my god,” Klavier murmured from beside him, as he came to the same realization.

Around them, the crowd spoke in hushed whispers.

“What happened?” “Is she okay?” “She just collapsed.” “They said she’s still breathing.”

It seemed that the paramedics had just arrived. One of them guided Vera’s father out of the way, while two others loaded her onto a stretcher, covered her face with an oxygen mask, and took her from the theater. The father trailed behind them.

“Truce, stay here,” Phoenix said, and he and Edgeworth pushed through the crowd and out the front doors. A campus police car had pulled up the curb as well, and Edgeworth fell into conversation with one of the officers. Outside the glass doors, the scene seemed to play out like a silent movie. Vera was efficiently loaded into the ambulance—her father paced anxiously nearby, until someone gestured towards the ambulance and allowed him to join her. One of the paramedics tapped Edgeworth on the shoulder, and the two of them exchanged hurried words. Edgeworth’s expression grew more and more grim. He cast a glance towards the theater, confirmed something with the paramedic, and took out his phone.

The ambulance departed, the wail of the siren shattering the illusion of the silence outside. Edgeworth was pacing now, speaking heatedly into his phone. Another siren heralded the arrival of a city police car. 

In the lobby, the remaining audience members were getting antsy.

“Why are the police here?” “I thought she just fainted or something?” “Is anyone gonna tell us what’s going on?”

Finally, Edgeworth seemed to conclude his conversation with the newly arrived police officers. He shared a brief word with Wright, and both of them returned to the lobby, followed by a few officers and the campus police.

The group of them was almost immediately accosted by curious audience members. Apollo lost sight of Edgeworth’s maroon suit in the crowd, but before he could look around, Wright was already reappearing by Trucy’s side.

“What’s going on?” Trucy asked, as soon as he was within earshot. “What happened to her?”

Wright looked grave.

“One of the paramedics had sharp eyes,” he said. “Apparently, Vera’s symptoms were consistent with atroquinine poisoning.”

“Atroquinine?” Apollo and Klavier repeated simultaneously.

“Yeah. It’s potent stuff, and rare. Not the kind of thing that could be an accident.” He glanced towards the crowd. “Hence the police officers. I think Edgeworth wants to try to get statements, see if anyone saw anything.”

“That is going to be quite the task,” Klavier noted. His voice was steady, but Apollo noticed that he had gone pale under his tan.

Wright nodded. “It certainly will.

Just then, Edgeworth’s voice rose above the crowd. “Excuse me,” he called. “I have just been informed that we have a suspect in custody and will no longer need audience statements. Thank you for your patience, and you are free to go.”

Another tide of questions rose around the room, but Edgeworth ignored them, pushing his way through the crowd back to the corner where Apollo, Klavier, Trucy, and Wright were gathered. He looked rather frazzled.

“They arrested someone? That was fast,” Wright remarked. Apollo and Klavier also turned expectantly towards the Chief Prosecutor.

“Yes,” Edgeworth said, after taking a moment to smooth down his cravat. “They found atroquinine in high concentrations on her fingernails. Given the circumstance, they have arrested the father. Drew Misham.”

“The father?” Wright gasped. “There’s no way. He was beside himself!”

Edgeworth frowned. “Perhaps it was only a performance. But I imagine you’ll be visiting him.”

Wright gave a decisive nod. Beside him, Trucy looked equally determined.

“And Vera? Is she okay?” she demanded.

“She will be placed in intensive care,” Edgeworth told her. “But the fact that she has survived this long is already historic, given the record of the poison.”

“So it’s an attempted murder charge, then,” Wright said.

Edgeworth nodded. “And hopefully it will stay that way.”

“Are you heading up the case?”

“That depends on Misham's choice of defense, doesn't it?” He arched one eyebrow. “Either way, get your questions in now.”

Apollo was tempted to listen in to Wright and Edgeworth’s conversation, but then he noticed Trucy. She was looking down at the drawing in her hands, blinking hard to keep tears from falling.

“Hey,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She sniffled.

“This is really well done,” she said, voice shaking. “It’s…there’s this stamp they put out, with Troupe Gramarye on it, but I’m not in it because I wasn’t part of the Troupe yet. But she added me in…I like it a lot.”

Apollo nodded. “I’ve seen that stamp,” he said. “She did do a good job.”

“Her dad said she was such a big fan that she framed it,” Trucy said, with a small laugh. “The stamp, that is. I’m gonna frame this, too. I really hope she gets better.”

“She will,” Apollo said, with more certainty than he felt.

Soon after, Wright excused himself to go to the detention center. Trucy departed with Edgeworth, and Klavier and Apollo were left with the dwindling crowd in the theater lobby.

Their walk back across campus was naturally a quiet one. The two of them were lost in their thoughts, which is why it took Apollo longer than it might have otherwise to notice that Klavier was still rather paler than usual.

“Klavier?” he asked, with mild alarm. “Are you okay?”

Klavier started at the sound of his name, his eyes coming back into focus. He ran a hand through his bangs tiredly.

“Ja, sorry.” He took a deep breath. “It’s just…you noticed, too, yes?”

Apollo’s eyebrows drew together. “Noticed what?”

“Vera,” Klavier said. His voice was quiet. “After I bumped into her. She was…biting her nails.”

“Oh, yeah, she…” Apollo trailed off as he realized the significance of Klavier’s words—the poison had been found on Vera’s nails. “Oh.”

“If I hadn’t…” Klavier’s voice shook. “If I hadn’t been in so much of a hurry…for something so stupid…”

“Klavier, this isn’t your fault,” Apollo rushed to interrupt him. “It was a mistake, anyone could have—”

“She could die, Apollo,” Klavier said, turning to him. “No one has ever survived atroquinine poisoning. I should know,” he said, his tone turning cruelly self-deprecating, “I wrote a song about it.”

“But that’s not on you,” Apollo said. “If she has a habit of biting her nails, it could have been anything at the show. This is all on the person who put the poison in her nail polish in the first place.”

Klavier sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I know,” he said finally, exhaling. “I just wish I could do something.”

“Me, too,” Apollo agreed. “…Do you really think it was her father?”

“I don’t know.” Klavier frowned. “But whoever it was…” He trailed off, his eyes blazing.

“Yeah,” Apollo said, his expression grim. “I know.”

~~~

 The next morning, Apollo woke to some surprising news.

He ended up getting up before his alarm, because he hadn’t been sleeping well. His dreams had featured a confused combination of Vera, sprawled unmoving on the floor, and Lamiroir, who he followed through endless corridors of the theater, only to lose her around a corner time and time again. He tossed and turned all night, and he was relieved when a news alert on his phone gave him an excuse to get up.

Attorney Kristoph Gavin to Represent Drew Misham, Charged with Attempted Murder of His Daughter, the headline read.

“Kristoph?!” Apollo said aloud. Across the room, Clay stirred in his sleep.

Apollo immediately sent the link to Klavier.

            Apollo [8:01 AM]: did you see this????

He realized too late that it was still pretty early in the morning. But Klavier responded nearly right away.

            Klavier [8:01 AM]: just now. I have no idea how he made it there before wright

Apollo was wondering the same thing. Wright had been at the theater when the arrest took place; he could have made it to the detention center before the news even broke, and as far as Apollo knew, he had gone straight there. So how on earth had Kristoph beaten him?

Scrolling through the article, Apollo didn’t find out much more than he already knew. The police were searching Misham’s residence for signs that he had purchased atroquinine. Drew himself was an artist who had done a few illustrations in the past but who, if the article was to be believed, did not do nearly enough legitimate business to sustain himself and his daughter. Arrested artist has suspicious income, end quote.

Apollo was relieved to see that at least Vera’s condition had not worsened overnight; the article said she was in a coma, and hers was the first recorded case where acute atroquinine poisoning had not resulted in immediate death.

Apollo’s phone beeped with another message alert, and, expecting to find a text from Klavier, Apollo was surprised to see an email from Wright instead.

Apollo-

Miles and I are pretty tied up this morning with everything that’s going on, but Trucy is anxious to visit Vera at the hospital. Any chance you can go with her? She’s upset and I don’t want her going alone.

Thanks- Phoenix

Apollo replied—of course he would go—and was out the door ten minutes later. It was only after he passed the street to the Gavinners’ house that he wondered if Klavier might be interested in visiting, too.

He vacillated on the street corner, debating whether it would be better to send a text or not, and eventually decided to just knock on the door. He knew Klavier was awake, at least.

And sure enough, the door opened only a dozen seconds after Apollo knocked. Klavier’s eyebrows drew together.

“Apollo? Hey.”

“Hi, sorry to drop in.” Klavier gestured for him to come inside, but Apollo shook his head. “I’m on my way to the hospital, actually. Trucy wanted to see Vera, but Mr. Wright couldn’t go…I thought you might want to come too?”

“Yes. Of course. One moment.” Klavier disappeared from the doorway and returned seconds later with his jacket. He paused on the threshold to finish putting on his shoes, then followed Apollo down the front steps.

“Wait,” he said, once they reached the sidewalk. “Were you going to take the bus?”

Apollo frowned—he didn’t exactly have other options, and he didn’t think Klavier did, either. “Uh, yeah?”

“Want to take my hog instead?”

“Your what?”

Klavier nodded to a covered vehicle parked against the curb. “My motorcycle,” he clarified. “It will be much faster.”

He must have noticed Apollo’s apprehensive expression, because he laughed. “It’s not as scary as it looks. Hold on, I’ll get the helmets.”

Klavier returned from the house a minute later with two motorcycle helmets, one deep purple, and the other plain black. He tossed the black one to Apollo, then started removing the cover from his “hog.”

At this point, Apollo really should not have been surprised to find that the bike was painted the same deep purple as the helmet, and that it was emblazoned with a metallic Gavinners logo on each side.

“Does that really carry two people?” The motorcycle was all shining metal and smooth leather and splashes of purple paint. Apollo eyed it nervously and fiddled with the helmet in his hand.

“Of course. Now come on. Does Herr Forehead mean to keep the fräuleins waiting?” Klavier put on his helmet, then easily swung one leg over the motorcycle and patted the seat behind him.

Apollo grimaced and secured his own helmet. He approached the bike warily, as if it might growl to life at any second.

“Where do I…?”

“Put your feet here. And you can hold on to me.”

Awkwardly, Apollo positioned himself on the motorcycle and gingerly placed his hands on Klavier’s waist.

“Ready?”

“Uh…”

Klavier snapped his helmet shut. “Achtung, baby!”

That was the only warning Apollo got before the motor revved and the bike sprung forward. He yelped and clung to Klavier.

“We aren’t even going twenty miles an hour, Forehead,” Klavier said, raising his voice to be heard over the growl of the engine. “And I regret to inform you that I will need to go a little faster.”

“I’m fine,” Apollo mumbled. He realized, belatedly, that he now had his arms wrapped entirely around Klavier’s midsection, but he wasn’t feeling confident enough to relax his grip just yet.

He could feel Klavier laughing better than he could hear it. “It isn’t far too the hospital,” Klavier said. “We’ll be there before you know it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Apollo said, but his voice was lost to the sound of the engine as Klavier steered out into the traffic bound for downtown.

~~~

Trucy was waiting for them. Apollo was surprised to see her outside the hospital, sitting on a bench and staring at the ground.

“Hey, Trucy,” he said when he was close enough. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I brought Klavier, too.”

Trucy shook her head. “I just got here. But…I didn’t really want to be alone in there,” she admitted, glancing towards the hospital. “Thanks for coming.”

They got their visitor badges and took the elevator up to Vera’s ward. Apollo chatted with Trucy about random things—the weather, the great turnout at her show—but it didn’t escape his notice that Klavier was very quiet.

“She just looks like she’s asleep,” Trucy remarked once they were standing around Vera’s bed. “If it wasn’t for all this stuff.” A heart monitor beeped persistently beside the bed, and Vera had an IV sticking out of her pale arm.

Apollo looked around the room. In contrast to some of the other rooms they had passed, which were decked out with bouquets, get-well-soon balloons, and stuffed animals, Vera’s room seemed starkly empty. It made sense—the article he had read this morning painted the Mishams as extremely reclusive. With Vera’s father in jail, there was no one to visit her or leave her gifts.

Trucy seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I should have brought something,” she said regretfully. “I wouldn’t want to wake up in a room like this. It’s too sad.”

Apollo nodded. “Next time.”

They couldn’t stay very long—Trucy was already missing her morning class. She managed to catch a city bus just as it arrived, leaving Klavier and Apollo to walk back to where Klavier had parked.

“Kristoph’s office is on the way back, right?” Apollo asked, as Klavier handed him a helmet.

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “Ja. Why?”

“I think I might skip Khura’inese. Can you drop me off there?”

Klavier agreed, and Apollo was too preoccupied to even remember to be nervous as he hopped up on the motorcycle behind him. If Klavier was surprised, he didn’t say anything.

Outside the office building which housed Gavin Law Offices, Klavier hesitated.

“I haven’t had a chance to ask him about this yet,” he said, nodding up at the building. “I have a meeting I need to get back for. But let me know what he says.”

Apollo promised he would and hurried into the building.

It turned out that he was right to rush; he ran into Kristoph as he was coming out of the elevator.

“Oh—Mr. Gavin!”

Kristoph paused. “Justice. I don’t recall assigning you hours today.”

“Uh, no, you didn’t. But…are you going to Misham’s studio?” The trial was tomorrow, and with the police investigating Misham’s history, he expected Kristoph would be stopping by his client’s home as well.

“I am,” Kristoph confirmed. “Why?”

“I was wondering if I could…come with you?” Apollo paused, and rushed to continue when Kristoph did not answer right away. “I mean, I understand if it’s inappropriate, but…well, I was interested to see how an investigation would work, and…”

“Come along.”

“What?”

“You can come, Justice. Provided you don’t dawdle.”

“No, sir!” Apollo turned on his heel and followed Kristoph out the front doors.

“Was there another reason, Justice?” Kristoph asked as he rounded a corner and started down the stairs to an underground parking garage. It occurred to Apollo that he had never actually seen Kristoph arrive at work, and he had never thought about whether the attorney had a car or not.

“Hm?”

“Another reason why you want to visit the studio,” Kristoph clarified.

“Oh. Um…” Apollo absently played with his hair spikes. “Well, Vera’s still in the hospital, and I thought…it might be nice for her to have something from home. When she wakes up, that is.”

“Ah. You know this Vera girl well?” Kristoph asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not exactly, but…well, you know Trucy Gramarye? This all happened at her show, and she’s pretty upset.”

“I see.” Kristoph paused. “I suppose that will not be an issue, providing the detectives at the scene don’t complain.” He took out a key fob, and the lights of an expensive-looking sedan flashed to life.

To Apollo, it seemed like Kristoph’s car was the polar opposite of his brother’s preferred form of transportation. It was sleek and dark gray, and from inside, the sound of the engine was almost inaudible.

“Mr. Gavin?” Apollo ventured, after a few minutes. “Is there any reason you decided to defend Misham?”

Misham was a reclusive, unsuccessful artist—hardly the kind of client that Kristoph generally sought out. This was about as far from a high-profile case as one could get.

“I’m surprised you would ask, Justice,” Kristoph said, with a small smile. “Is the desire to defend an innocent client not reason enough?”

If you were Phoenix Wright, maybe, Apollo thought. “Well, sure. But why Misham in particular?”

Kristoph kept his eyes on the road. “Sometimes an unexpected case falls into your lap, and to take it seems like the right thing to do. There is nothing more to it than that.”

“Hm.” Apollo rubbed his wrist.

They arrived at Drew Studio twenty minutes later, since traffic was light. A few patrol cars were parked outside the building, but no one questioned Kristoph as he slipped through the open door and entered the dwelling, Apollo close behind him.

Initially, Drew Studio was exactly what Apollo was expecting of a reclusive artist’s domain. It was well lit by skylight windows from one side, and easels around the room supported large, half-finished canvases. Paint-stained palettes and cups stuffed with brushes cluttered the available surfaces, and a chemical smell lingered in the air.

But Apollo wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the other side of the room. There, a large desk was cluttered with unfamiliar machines and monitors. The space seemed out of place beside the airy studio.

A few police officers were gathered on the far side of the room, talking, and they turned around when Kristoph entered. Kristoph approached them with a genial greeting, but Apollo hung back, glancing around curiously.

His eyes settled on desk set near the middle of the room. It was decorated with a couple frames, one of them unusually small. Apollo absently picked it up to get a better look.

“Hey, pal!”

Apollo jumped. One of the police officers, a large man in a patchy green trench coat, was glaring at him.

“You can’t just go around touching things!” the man went on.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. But, um…” Apollo looked down at the frame in his hand, which held a familiar commemorative stamp. “I was hoping to take this for the victim.”

The detective pause, his glare softening somewhat. “The victim? That girl?”

Apollo nodded. “She really likes this stamp, I guess. So I was hoping to leave it in her hospital room, for when she wakes up…”

The detective’s eyes were wide now—Apollo faintly wondered if he might start crying. Instead, he sniffed loudly, then turned over his shoulder to confer with his colleagues.

“Do we need this picture for anything?” One of the officers shrugged, while the other shook her head. The detective turned around. “Okay, pal. You can give it to her.”

“Detective Gumshoe,” Kristoph interrupted coldly. “You were telling me something about my client.”

The detective quailed. “Well, pal, what I was telling you was that I can’t tell you anything about your client,” he said. “Mr. Edgeworth said—”

“It eludes me how this district ever manages to convict a single criminal,” Kristoph went on. “It appears to me that you have absolutely no reason to suspect Mr. Misham of wrongdoing.”

“But this guy is shady, pal!” Gumshoe protested. “One of my crime scene guys told me that those paintings over there are forgeries!”

“Forgeries?” Kristoph raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Gumshoe nodded enthusiastically. “And then there’s this letter, pal.” The detective brandished a red envelope. “Mr. Drew Misham,” he read, “I've deposited the $100,000 in the designated account. Please send a receipt once you've confirmed the transfer. Sign the papers and send in the enclosed envelope with the enclosed stamp within 3 days. I need not remind you to speak of this to no one.”

“That is certainly intriguing,” Kristoph admitted, but he smiled slightly. “May I see that?”

Kristoph looked over the contents of the envelope, then returned it to Gumshoe.

“Well,” he said finally. “It seems I must speak to my client.”

“I think we’re the ones who will be speaking to your client, pal!” Gumshoe returned, but Kristoph was already on his way out the door, motioning for Apollo to follow.

“That’s all you needed to see, sir?” Apollo asked as they returned to the car.

Kristoph smiled slightly. “I was already aware of the forgeries; Misham told me last night. But I thought it best to see what the prosecution might have determined, and the good Detective Gumshoe is always easy to provoke.”

“Do you think one of the clients poisoned Vera?”

“It’s quite possible,” Kristoph replied. “But the evidence is so far lacking. An anonymous letter will not be much help.” He glanced at Apollo out of the corner of his eye. “What is it that you picked up for Ms. Misham?”

“Oh, just this stamp.” Apollo held it up to look at it—three magicians smiled back at him, although he only recognized Zak and Valant. “I guess she really likes Troupe Gramarye. You had one like this too, didn’t you?”

“I may have picked one up somewhere,” Kristoph replied. “To be honest, I don’t recall. Are you a fan as well?”

“Not really,” Apollo replied. His bracelet felt tight, but he supposed that was understandable. This was the closest he had come to discussing Zak Gramarye with his boss, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the missing magician was still a touchy suspect even so many months later.

Traffic had sprung up even during their short visit, so the ride back to Gavin Law Offices took longer than Apollo expected, and then he had to stop by the hospital to drop off the stamp before catching a bus back to Ivy. He returned to campus just in time to make it to his afternoon class with Dr. Case.

“Where have you been?” Klavier whispered as Apollo slid into his seat beside him. “I expected to see you at lunch.”

Apollo was painfully aware that he had missed lunch—he just hoped his stomach stayed quiet for the next hour.

Case’s class was a breeze compared to Dent’s, though, so Apollo thought he could get away with filling Klavier in. He turned his notebook to a blank page, wrote a line, and angled the page so Klavier could see.

Drew was an art forger.

Klavier’s eyes widened. He picked up his pen but couldn’t seem to decide on a question to ask, so Apollo went on.

Police found evidence of money exchanges. No purchase records for poison though.

Klavier took the notebook. Clients have motive.

Apollo nodded. Kristoph is looking into it.

With the essentials conveyed for now, Apollo tuned in to Case’s lecture, but it wasn’t long before his mind was wandering again.

Why poison Vera? he wrote, glancing at Klavier. Drew seems like a more likely target.

Klavier considered the page for a moment. Maybe he is, he wrote finally. He might be glad to be in police custody.

The thought was chilling. Apollo’s mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of atroquinine slipped past unobservant guards, of Vera waking up only to find that her only family member had died…

“Mr. Justice,” Dr. Case called, and Apollo flinched. “I’m sure that you and Mr. Gavin are engaging in a heated correspondence regarding our subject matter, so you will have no trouble explaining the concept behind the hypothetical Jurist System?”

“Uh, sure,” Apollo replied as the class tittered. Klavier flushed slightly, and Apollo wondered if this was a first for him—growing up with Clay, Apollo was used to being scolded for letting his attention wander in class. He was just thankful that he had forced himself to do last night’s reading assignment before going to the magic show. “So, the Jurist System…”

Apollo’s unexcused absence in Khura’inese had cost him—he couldn’t afford to skip the next class to attend Drew Misham’s trial. Nahyuta eyed him archly as he sat down.

“As if you don’t want to be there, too,” Apollo muttered irritably, as class started. He strategically placed his phone behind a book and waited for updates from Klavier.

Halfway through the class, a text message arrived.

            Klavier [10:27 AM]: call me when you get out of class

Apollo frowned and surreptitiously put his phone away. Nahyuta looked at him sideways and raised an eyebrow.

When class was dismissed, Apollo was already dialing Klavier’s number on his way out the door.

“Apollo, hey,” Klavier answered. “I just got back to campus, I’ll meet you.”

He just got back?  “Wait, what happened?”

Klavier didn’t answer right away. “I…it’s…I would rather tell you in person. I’m passing the Vine right now, are you—oh, I see you.”

Klavier hung up. Apollo stared at his phone for a moment before turning towards the Vine and catching sight of Klavier.

Even from a distance, Apollo could see the grim expression on Klavier’s face. His brow creased.

“What happened?” Apollo asked once they were close enough to speak. “Why are you back already?”

Klavier took a deep breath and stepped off the sidewalk to get out of the way of the passing foot traffic. He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.

“Misham was discovered dead in his cell right before the trial started,” Klavier said.

Apollo looked up sharply. “What?!”

“He appears to have poisoned himself,” Klavier went on, talking over Apollo as though he simply wanted to get the information out as quickly as possible. “And in his note, he admitted his guilt and implied that his remorse drove him to take his own life.”

Apollo sucked in a breath. “…no way…”

“There were no indications that the suicide wasn’t genuine, and the police took the note as a confession, so since there are no other suspects in Vera’s poisoning, the matter is considered resolved for now.” As Klavier finished his report, the life seemed to drain out of him, leaving his expression gray and hollow. “Vera still shows no signs of improvement, as of yet.”

“My god…” Apollo breathed. He shook his head slowly, processing this. “I really didn’t think Misham did it.”

Klavier nodded his agreement. “I’m as shocked as you are.”

“And Kristoph?”

Klavier’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Furious. He can’t believe that the guards would let something like this happen.”

“This is ridiculous,” Apollo said. “First Gramarye, and now this.”

“I know.” Klavier glanced towards the Vine. “Do you want to grab a coffee? It’s only ten o’clock, but after this morning I feel like I’m ready to get right back into bed.”

Since many students had class at this hour, Apollo and Klavier were able to snag one of the secluded tables in the corner of the coffee shop. Apollo blew the steam off his green tea, and Klavier stirred his coffee pensively.

“Does Trucy know?” Apollo asked suddenly, as the thought occurred to him.

“Wright was there, but I don’t know if he told her.”

“I should go see Vera again.” He knew it wouldn’t do any good, realistically, to stand by the sleeping girl’s bed, but he thought it might make him feel a little better.

Klavier made no reply. He was simply staring into his coffee, fingers laced around his cup, and he looked even more haggard than before.

“You don’t have to come,” Apollo added gently.

Klavier bit his lip. “I know it’s not my fault, but I just…I keep seeing her biting her nails, and if she doesn’t wake up—”

“I know.” Before Apollo realized what he was doing, he had reached out to lay a hand on Klavier’s forearm. “It’s okay.”

Klavier’s eyes fell to Apollo’s hand. He gave a small nod.

At that moment, Apollo resolved that he needed to find something to cheer Klavier up. Vera’s condition was weighing on him, and Apollo was pretty sure he was the only one who knew about it.

Then it occurred to him that he didn’t really know what to do with his hand on Klavier’s arm. How long was a comforting gesture like this supposed to last, anyway?

But before he could fabricate some excuse to pull away, Klavier took one hand from his coffee cup and ran a finger over Apollo’s bracelet.

“Such a strange bracelet,” he murmured. “And yet, I swear I’ve seen one like it somewhere.”

“Really?” Apollo asked, thoroughly surprised. “Where?”

Klavier shook his head. “I can’t remember.” He lifted the arm that lay under Apollo’s hand, but before Apollo could pull his hand back, he took it in both of his, narrowing his eyes at the thick golden bangle. “How do you take it off?”

“Uh, I don’t, usually,” Apollo said. He was glad Klavier’s attention was focused on the bracelet, because he could feel a blush rising quickly to his cheeks. Klavier’s grip on his hand was loose, but even that gentle pressure was enough to send Apollo’s heart racing.

“It’s tight.” Klavier noted, rubbing one thumb over Apollo’s wrist, right where skin met metal. “Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

Apollo might have remarked that, in fact, he could barely feel the bracelet right now, and it was only when something caught his eye that the jewelry became noticeable, but he was presently incapable of stringing together coherent words. Klavier’s fingers felt like they were leaving sparks dancing across his skin.

“N-not really,” he managed at last. “I’m used to it.”

Klavier looked up suddenly, and Apollo had to scramble to arrange his features into something neutral.

“Where did you get it?” he asked. His expression only revealed honest interest, as if he was entirely unaware of what he was currently putting Apollo through.

“I’ve, uh, always had it,” Apollo told him. “I think my parents…”

“In Khura’in?”

Apollo shook his head. “No, my real parents. It’s from them.”

“You never did tell me what happened,” Klavier said quietly. He ran his thumb across Apollo’s wrist again, but absently now, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. It was strangely comforting, and Apollo found himself wanting to tell the story.

“I don’t know much,” Apollo admitted. “Dhurke—Nahyuta’s dad—met my father in Khura’in, but there was some sort of accident, and he passed away. But I guess Dhurke only met him briefly, so he didn’t know anything about him, and he ended up raising me.” Apollo paused. “As for my mother…she never tried to find me, so I always assumed—”

Klavier drew a breath. “Ach, I’m sorry, Apollo, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay, I mean…I was an infant, y’know? I never knew them.” He looked down at the bracelet. “This is all I have.”

Sometime during Apollo’s story, Klavier’s hands had shifted; now they just clasped Apollo’s, without any pretense of examining his bracelet. Apollo was glad for the contact. Although it was true that he never knew his parents, and that he had come to terms with that fact a long time ago, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain when he thought about his mother. His father was dead—he knew that for certain. But his mother…he could never quite decide what hurt more: to imagine that she was also dead, or to think that she was alive, and had just never sought him out.

“I’m sorry, Apollo,” Klavier said again. The two of them gazed at Apollo’s bracelet. “But what a cryptic heirloom.”

Apollo let out a short laugh, breaking the tension. “Yeah, you don’t know the half of it.”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I dare ask—there’s more?”

“Ha, yeah.” He (somewhat reluctantly) lifted his hand from Klavier’s grasp and ran his fingers over the etched designs. “It helps me notice when people are hiding things.”

Klavier’s brows drew together. “…what?”

“I don’t really know how it works, and it took me a long time to really get the hang of it, but it’s kinda like this.” Apollo paused. “Most people give themselves away when they lie, even in tiny ways. But I sort of have a sense for it, and when I notice subconsciously, the bracelet gets a little tighter on my wrist, so I can notice consciously, too.”

Klavier’s confused frown only grew more pronounced. “That’s…what?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It took Clay, like, three years until he actually believed me.” Apollo smiled. “I mean, he said he believed me right away, but”—he held up his bracelet—“I could tell he was lying.”

Klavier was trying to hide his disbelief, but Apollo didn’t exactly need his bracelet to tell him that. “But how…?”

Apollo shrugged. “Well, look…got any secrets, Klavier?” He grinned and rubbed his wrist.

“I…no, not particularly.” Klavier’s face was more composed now, back to an intrigued frown, but Apollo’s bracelet tightened nonetheless.

Not that Apollo really needed it for Klavier’s tells—he knew them all pretty well by now. Right now, he was fiddling with the end of his braid.

“Gotcha,” Apollo said with a smirk, pointing across the table. “But, see?”

He held out his wrist, so Klavier could see how the bracelet pressed ever so slightly into his skin.

“Oh. Hm.”

“It’s okay if you still don’t totally believe me, I know it’s really weird,” Apollo reassured him. Then his smile turned mischievous. “So, secrets, huh?”

As if drawn by a magnet, Klavier’s hand strayed back to the end of his braid. He caught himself a second later, then frowned, as if irritated with himself.

“It’s fine, don’t tell me,” Apollo laughed. “I try not to abuse my superpowers. Besides, people are always hiding things. I’ve learned to ignore everyone’s baseline dishonesty.”

“Surprisingly cynical of you, Forehead,” Klavier said, seemingly recovered.

“Eh. Just practical, honestly.”

“Hm.” Klavier pondered the bracelet for a moment. “Apollo, I believe you have the strangest life story of anyone I have ever met.”

Apollo laughed. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it.”

Their conversation drifted to less weighty matters as they finished their drinks, but Apollo couldn’t help but notice that Klavier seemed somewhat on edge. He tried not to focus on it too much—he really did make a point not to pry into whatever people might be hiding—but he started to wonder if he had made a mistake, telling Klavier about the bracelet. The last thing he wanted was for Klavier to be uncomfortable around him, especially when he had just resolved to try and cheer him up. It was partly thanks to the bracelet that Apollo could realize how much Klavier was affected by Vera’s condition—he didn’t want his own abilities to backfire on him.

Unfortunately, his bracelet was no help at all when it came to thinking of something he could actually do to help take Klavier’s mind off of Vera.

A solution came to him entirely by coincidence. There was a local band that Clay wanted to see playing at a nearby music club later in the semester, and Clay was already demanding that Apollo mark his calendar. Apollo did so, but as he scrolled through the rest of the club’s events, another act caught his eye.

Perfect.

He picked up his phone, then paused, listening. Sure enough, the sounds of a guitar drifted up from the quad—one of the Gavinners’ two slower songs, but a Gavinners song nonetheless.

Klavier didn’t notice him approach; he was bent over his guitar, seemingly wholly focused on the music. A few other people studied nearby, but otherwise Klavier was unbothered by his usual fans.

“Hey,” Apollo said quietly, hopping up on the table beside him. “You know, you can just text me if you want to chat.”

Klavier broke off playing with a rather unmusical chord and looked up sharply, his eyes wide. “I—” he started to protest, until he realized Apollo was smiling.

“I was joking,” Apollo said, “but hey, if that’s what you were going for, then I guess it worked.”

“I learned months ago that I could simply irritate Herr Forehead into coming to see me,” Klavier said, recovering.

“It’s not irritating,” Apollo said. “I’m used to it now.”

“Ah, don’t worry. Daryan and I are working on new music. Soon I’ll have an entire new repertoire to which you are not yet immune.”

Klavier started picking at his guitar again, and for a minute, Apollo just sat with him, watching his fingers dance over the strings.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” Apollo said, when the music lulled. “I saw something that you might be interested in.”

Klavier looked at him sideways, through his bangs. “Oh?”

“Yeah, totally by chance, honestly,” he admitted. “But that woman you saw at Trucy’s show—Lamiroir? She’s singing at a small music club in a couple weeks. I know it was sort of…awkward…when you talked to her, but…thought you might be interested anyway?”

Apollo had avoided meeting Klavier’s eyes through this entire proposal, opting instead to fiddle with his hair spikes. He was a little worried that he might just make Klavier feel worse by reminding him of Lamiroir’s refusal, but the way he had sounded when he spoke about her…

“I would love to go.”

When Apollo glanced up, he didn’t expect Klavier to be looking at him so intently. But to Apollo’s relief, he could see the light in his eyes that had been so clouded over that morning. “Yeah?”

“It’s not on a Monday, is it?” he asked, and for a moment, Apollo couldn’t even remember why he would ask.

“Oh, right, club. No, it’s a Saturday.”

“Wunderbar. While I do trust our future legal professionals to handle themselves for one night, it’s probably better not to miss any meetings with the mock trial coming up.”

“Yeah, agreed.” The trial was scheduled for mid-April, leaving them just about a month and a half to finish their preparations. Apollo was learning that there was a lot to go into an event like this, especially when Klavier wanted it to be such a production.

Klavier had taken out his phone and was scrolling through his calendar. “When is this concert?”

Apollo told him, and Klavier entered the information, then looked up at Apollo and smiled.

“Okay—It’s a date!” He winked.

~~~

Two weeks suddenly seemed like a very long time to wait. Apollo tried to keep busy—he always had studying to do, and he took a couple trips downtown to visit Vera again, along with Trucy. Her condition remained unchanged, although he hoped, every time, that she might wake up and transform his invitation to Klavier from a distraction to a celebration.

And of course, Kristoph gave him plenty to do. Apollo wasn’t really sure what to expect when he reported to work the day after Drew Misham’s suicide—would it the same as after Zak Gramarye’s disappearance, where the incident simply wasn’t mentioned?

He certainly didn’t expect to run into Miles Edgeworth in the lobby.

“Mr. Edgeworth?”

The Chief Prosecutor turned. “Justice. Good afternoon.”

“What brings you here?” Apollo started towards the elevators, then remembered that Edgeworth wouldn’t be joining him if he went that way, and instead elected to follow him up the stairs.

“I need to speak with Mr. Gavin,” Edgeworth said.

“About yesterday?” Apollo asked. He wasn’t sure if it as appropriate to ask, but he couldn’t help himself.

Edgeworth seemed to slow in his climb up the stairs for a moment before answering. “Yes, about yesterday.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard,” Apollo remarked.

“Nor could I,” Edgeworth said, and it took Apollo a moment to process the meaning behind that phrase.

“Wait, do you…” Apollo wasn’t sure how to phrase his question. The official consensus had been that Misham killed himself to atone for his crimes. Was Edgeworth implying that he doubted that conclusion?

Edgeworth stopped suddenly, on the landing between two floors.

“Mr. Justice,” he said slowly. “Did you have any involvement in the investigation into Vera’s poisoning?”

“You mean before the trial?” Edgeworth nodded. “Not really. I mean, I went to the studio with Mr. Gavin, but that’s it.”

“Did anything strike you as odd?”

Apollo frowned. “…odd? Not really, besides all the forgery stuff, I guess.”

“You didn’t meet with Misham?”

“No, not after he was arrested.”

“Vera was poisoned because the nail polish she was using contained atroquinine. When questioned, Misham said he had never seen the nail polish before. However, when asked where Vera might have gotten such a dangerous accessory, he refused to answer.” Miles produced a photograph from the folder he was carrying. “Have you seen a bottle like this before?”

The bottle was glass, with a delicately sculpted hand adorning the stopper. Apollo frowned.

“I…don’t remember,” he admitted. “It looks expensive.”

“It is,” Edgeworth confirmed. “Drew Misham did not appear to recognize it, either, although he was quite distraught when he learned it was poisoned.”

“Mr. Gavin was going to argue that a client of Misham’s might have poisoned Vera,” Apollo said. “Could the nail polish have come from them?”

“That would explain Misham’s reticence, certainly,” Edgeworth agreed. “He may have still felt he was in danger.”

Klavier said something like that, too. He might be glad to be in police custody.

“And that client could have—” Apollo paused, brow furrowed. “Wait. Weren’t you going to argue that Misham was the one who poisoned her?”

Edgeworth met his eyes. “It is very important, in this line of work, to be capable of admitting when one’s conclusions may be wrong.”

“So if it was a client…” Apollo began, thinking fast. “Oh, but the note…”

“It appeared genuine,” Edgeworth told him. “Although that is not to say it was not written under some sort of coercion.”

“Did Misham have any visitors?”

“None, on the night of his death. But Vera’s poisoning did not require direct interaction with the killer, remember.”

Apollo pressed a finger to his forehead. “Did they find any poison in his cell?”

Edgeworth shook his head. “His symptoms were consistent with atroquinine poisoning, but none was left at the scene.”

“Hmm…” Suddenly, a thought occurred to Apollo. “Wait, Prosecutor Edgeworth—why are you telling me all of this?”

Edgeworth gave a small shrug. “I thought it might be a good exercise. Everyone has a different way of thinking; I was curious what conclusions you might come to, given all the information.”

“Hm.” Apollo looked up. “…what did the note say?”

“Misham’s note? I believe I have that here, too.” He paged through his organizer. “Here you are.”

He handed Apollo a scanned copy of a handwritten page.

             My dearest Vera—I’m sorry. I cannot go on living knowing what I have done. I have many regrets, but at least I can say I made my mark.

                      Drew Misham

Apollo found himself poking his forehead again. “That’s…a little vague, actually.”

“I am inclined to agree. However, with no further suspects to pursue…”

“Yeah…I wonder what he means by ‘made my mark’…” Apollo frowned. “I didn’t think he was very successful.”

“Not by most metrics, no,” Edgeworth agreed. “But we all measure success in different ways.”

“Sure…” Apollo frowned at the page, until a door slamming in some distant part of the stairwell snapped him out of his thoughts. “Oh, shoot, I’m going to be late—”

Edgeworth took back the copy of the note. “I’m sorry, Mr. Justice. I didn’t mean to keep you. Please, carry on.”

When they arrived at Gavin Law Offices, Apollo went to his desk while Edgeworth announced his presence to Reese. He was directed to Kristoph’s office nearly right away. Apollo watched curiously as he passed and was disappointed when he heard Kristoph’s office door click shut. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to eavesdrop on a conversation in that office more than he did now.

Edgeworth didn’t stay long—it was maybe ten minutes before he passed Apollo’s desk again. Or, almost passed it; he paused and turned to Apollo, an inscrutable expression on his features.

“Mr. Justice,” he began. “I trust your experience here has been educational?”

Apollo frowned at him. What was with this professional small talk when they had just spoken in the stairwell? “Um. Yes, of course.”

Edgeworth nodded approvingly. “Good. Stay sharp.”

With that, Edgeworth swept on down the hallway, his black trench coat rustling behind him. Apollo watched him go, perplexed.

Stay sharp?

It was almost an innocuous phrase, but something about the gravity in Edgeworth’s eyes and the way Apollo’s bracelet squeezed on his wrist made it seem like anything but. Stay sharp…for what?

“Justice!”

Kristoph’s voice carried from down the hall, and Apollo jumped up, shoving his thoughts to the side. It was probably nothing.

“Yes, sir?” he asked, stepping into Kristoph’s office.

 Kristoph’s voice carried a note of faint curiosity. “How do you know the Chief Prosecutor?”

It wasn’t really the question Apollo was expecting. “Oh! He talked at Ivy last semester. For the, uh, club Klavier and I—”

“Ah, of course. One of my brother’s few bright ideas.”

Apollo wanted to object to the “few,” but decided it was better not to.

“What did he have to say?”

“Huh?”

“Prosecutor Edgeworth,” Kristoph clarified.

 “Um, he just asked if I was learning a lot.”

Kristoph’s eyebrows went up just a fraction. “And are you? I seem to recall saying something about making an investment in you. Perhaps it is time for a bit of a performance review.”

Regarding what? My filing expertise?

“O-okay.” Apollo had to try hard to keep himself from making the word a question.

“Have a seat.”

Apollo did so.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, actually,” Kristoph said. “You are a junior, yes? You must be starting to think about law school applications.” Apollo nodded. “Do you have your sights set on any schools in particular?”

“I wasn’t thinking of going too far away,” Apollo began. He didn’t have the money for it. “And it depends on what scholarships I can get.”

“Sensible,” Kristoph agreed. “Would you be interested in staying on here, during law school? Of course, once you have your degree from Ivy, I can give you more responsibilities, as well as a higher rate of pay.”

Apollo blinked. He hadn’t actually thought about it all that much, where this stint at Gavin Law Offices was taking him. “I—that would be great, sir. Thank you.”

“And further down the road, there is likely to be a place for you here as an attorney, once you pass the Bar.”

The thought was overwhelming. To be honest, even just the thought of law school was overwhelming, but to imagine that he might have a job as an actual, practicing attorney right after? At Gavin Law Offices?

“Sir, I—”

Kristoph waved a hand. “This isn’t charity, Justice. As I have said: you are an investment, and one I am not eager to lose, say, to the Prosecutor’s Office.”

Apollo blinked. He supposed that was one explanation for why Kristoph was curious about Edgeworth, but it didn’t ring quite true; Apollo’s bracelet was slowly constricting around his wrist.

“No need for concern, there, sir,” he rushed to say.

“Good to hear.” Moving on from the topic of education, Kristoph proceeded to ask him a few questions about recent cases handled by the office, ones that had Apollo had been tangentially involved in; it was not unlike an oral pop quiz, one that Apollo wished he could have studied for. His mind had been pretty occupied the past few days.

Even so, his answers seemed to satisfy Kristoph well enough. When Apollo finished describing the mistake made by one of the firm’s rookie lawyers in his most recent trial, Kristoph nodded his approval. “Well put. You may go, Justice.”

Apollo started to stand, then paused. I probably shouldn’t ask this, but… “Actually, Mr. Gavin?”

“Yes?”

“Drew Misham.” Kristoph said nothing, but a small shift of his head made his glasses glint. “Would you have won the case?”

It was a loaded question—Misham had confessed, after all. He was ostensibly guilty.

“As with all my clients,” Kristoph began, “I would have defended him to the best of my abilities. I am inclined to say that he would have walked away from the trial a free man.”

“Right. Of course.” Apollo started to stand.

“Is that all, Justice?” Kristoph sounded surprised now. “I half-expected you to engage me in another debate. You’ve only been here a few months—has Phoenix Wright’s idealism already started to dull?”

“That must be it, sir,” Apollo agreed, forcing a smile. “I’m a pretty quick learner.”

Apollo excused himself soon after, and as soon as he was out of view, he mouthed a silent curse and started vigorously shaking out his left hand. The tips of his fingers were tingling.

His bracelet seemed to beat along with his pulse as it finally relaxed.

But why would Kristoph lie about his intention to defend Misham?

Edgeworth’s words echoed in his ears as he sat down at his desk again.

Stay sharp.

~~~

As two weeks went by, Apollo very determinedly put the phrase “it’s a date” out of his mind—that was just something people said. It was especially something Klavier said, and it meant absolutely nothing. Nope, Apollo wasn’t going to think about it.

Even so, when the evening of the concert finally came, Apollo stood half-dressed beside his bed, looking over the articles of clothing he had pulled from his closet, frowning at his options with a glare that Klavier certainly would have poked fun at, had he been there to see it.

The door opened, and Clay walked in, glancing Apollo over as he passed.

“What are you up to?”

“Trying to pick something to wear.”

“Got a hot date?” he asked. Then he paused. “Wait, do you have a hot date?”

“No,” Apollo shot back, then reconsidered. It’s a date echoed in his head. “Well. I don’t know, actually.”

Clay’s expression turned exasperated. “Is Klavier involved?” Apollo nodded reluctantly. “Then it’s a date.”

“But I didn’t say it was a date,” Apollo protested.

Clay stopped and faced him. “Where are you going?”

“…to that bar you were talking about, to see a musician.”

“With Klavier? That’s a date,” Clay said. “Congratulations.”

Apollo cast him an aggrieved expression. “Just help me pick something to wear, will you?”

“How about my Christmas present?” Clay asked, grinning.

“No.” Apollo’s new Gavinners shirt was strictly pajamas-only.

“Okay, fine. Then that flannel you just got…over the Gavinners shirt?”

“Now you’re just giving me bad advice,” Apollo told him, selecting a different t-shirt and pulling it on. The flannel would work, though; he shrugged it on, then grabbed his hair gel and started working on his bangs.

Once his hair was spiked to perfection, he wasted a few more minutes puttering around the room, checking that he had his phone and wallet, and plucking imaginary pieces of dust from his clothes. He didn’t want to show up at Klavier’s door too early.

But his restless pacing soon started to irritate Clay, who ended up grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him out the door before he could wear a rut in their floor.

“Go get ‘im, tiger,” he said, then firmly closed the door.

Apollo scowled, then took out his phone, checked on his hair spikes with the front camera, and, once he was satisfied, made his way to the Gavinners’ house.

The Gavinners’ drummer, Sam, met him at the door.

“Klavier’s upstairs,” they told him. “You should probably just go get him, or he’ll be there all night.”

“Daryan!” Apollo heard Klavier’s raised voice when he was halfway up the stairs. “Where the hell are my earrings?”

“What?”

“My earrings,” Klavier repeated. “The black studs you borrowed a week ago.”

“I don’t have them.”

“Well, neither do I!”

“Look again!”

“You were the last one to wear them!”

Daryan’s head finally poked out from one of the bedrooms. “I didn’t steal your fucking earrings, Klav!”

Klavier burst out of his room. “Well they hardly walked aw—oh.” He stopped short. “Apollo.”

Apollo gave a small wave. “Sorry, I’m a little early.”

“Just in time,” Daryan cut in. “Prosecutor Diva was just about ready to bring me to court.”

“Daryan—” Klavier snapped, then seemed to think better of it. He let out his breath in a short huff, then turned to Apollo. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said, then disappeared into his room.

Daryan snorted and retreated into his bedroom as well, leaving Apollo alone at the top of the stairs.

It was nearly two minutes before Klavier re-emerged, shrugging into a leather jacket and starting down the stairs, Apollo trailing after him.

“Sorry about that,” Klavier muttered, casting a dark look back towards Daryan’s room.

“Those earrings are nice,” Apollo remarked lightly, noting the silver hoops in his ears.

“I like the other ones better,” Klavier grumbled. Then he glanced to his side, noticed Apollo’s raised eyebrows, and sighed. “Sorry. Thank you.”

The bar was only a short distance from campus, through a park and down a couple blocks, so they decided to take advantage of the pleasant evening and walk. But Klavier’s sour mood seemed reluctant to wear off. Apollo tried to think of a way to break the tension, but eventually he just decided to ask the question bouncing around in his head.

“You and Daryan really dated?”

Klavier laughed out loud. “Ja, for almost six months. Sam and Erik might have killed us had it gone on any longer.”

“That bad?”

“What you saw was fairly representative of one of our good days, towards the end,” Klavier admitted. “We clash easily, and we mistook those feelings for something like romance, I suppose.”

“And you’re still friends?”

“We have been for a long time. It would have taken more than that to split us up,” Klavier said. “And we both care too much about the band to let a messy breakup ruin all our work. It may have my name on it, but it’s as much his as it is mine.”

“Huh.”

“That said—if you ever hear a Gavinners song that’s unusually angsty, there is a good chance it came out of that period,” Klavier told him, then looked at him sideways with a small grin. “Although we generally avoid playing them. You would find them particularly insufferable.”

Apollo laughed. “Thanks for sparing me.”

Klavier smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. “True emotions always lead to better music. Lately I’ve been—”

He broke off suddenly, and Apollo looked up.

“…Klavier?”

For a moment, Klavier just stared off into the middle distance, his eyes wide. Then he ducked his head and brushed one hand through his bangs, but in the second before he hid his face, Apollo was certain he saw a faint blush rise to Klavier’s cheeks.

“Ah…never mind.” Klavier shook himself, then turned to Apollo with a smile. “It’s a beautiful evening, ja?”

“Uh, yeah,” Apollo agreed, watching Klavier fiddle with the end of his braid.

It was another thirty seconds before his bracelet finally relaxed around his wrist again.

~~~

They arrived at the restaurant early enough to get a table near the front. A waitress came by to take their drink orders—a cherry sour for Apollo and one of the specialty drinks off the menu for Klavier. On the low stage, a few techs were arranging microphones and instruments. Klavier watched for a moment, then turned to Apollo.

“It was at a place a lot like this where I first saw her,” he said. “A quiet venue in Borginia’s capital. We were only there for a weekend—one of the short trips you have to take when you’re in Europe, simply because you’re there and everything is so close by. My friends and I had gotten separated, but I wasn’t lost, so I was just wandering the streets and enjoying the evening. And then I heard her.

“She was singing in a small jazz club, and the door was open to let in the night air. I don’t even recall going inside—suddenly I was just there, squeezed in near the back with all the other people who had been similarly entranced. Lamiroir means “siren” in Borginian, you know, and it is truly a fitting name.

“I only saw the end of her first act, but that was more than enough. It may surprise you, given the Gavinners’ tone”—he glanced up with a wry smile—“but I draw inspiration from all types of music, and I simply had to speak with her—I had never heard anything like her.

“Unfortunately, at the time I was under the impression that she only spoke Borginian—we could not have a particularly complex conversation. But I noticed some of the instruments her musicians had brought, and there was this guitar—mein Gott, this guitar…”

To be perfectly honest, Apollo didn’t understand half the things Klavier had to say about this guitar, but he couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“She was kind enough to let me play it,” he went on. “And we composed a short melody together. The whole experience was like a dream, and to be quite honest, there was a part of me that was certain it was a dream, until I saw her again at Trucy’s show.”

“Wow,” Apollo said. “She must really be something.”

Klavier was about to respond, but then the lights on the stage brightened. He broke off immediately and turned to the stage, where a woman had appeared at the microphone to announce Lamiroir’s act.

“We have a real treat for you today,” she said. “All the way from the Republic of Borginia, the landscape painter in sound herself, Lamiroir!”

Lamiroir stepped onto the stage, inclining her head graciously. Behind her, a blond boy in a flowing white shirt took his place at the piano.

“Machi Tobaye,” Klavier whispered in Apollo’s ear. “He is an absolute genius.”

Without further ado, Machi began to play.

With Lamiroir’s introduction, the restaurant had quieted, but there had still been a scattering of hushed conversations around the room—whispered remarks of excitement, drink orders relayed to waiters, a few louder words from people in the back who weren’t paying much attention—but when the pianist’s fingers touched the piano, the room fell completely silent.

Machi’s playing was effortless. In an instant, his fluid arpeggios seemed to transport Apollo elsewhere, first to somewhere warm and sunlit, and then, with a twist of a chord, elsewhere again, somewhere secluded and ancient, a secret, untouched place where one might expect an encounter with an elusive spirit. It was then that Lamiroir began to sing.

Klavier had not been exaggerating. In fact, his words had hardly done Lamiroir’s voice justice; but how could they? She was divine. Her voice breathed life into the scene that Machi’s piano had set, painting an image so vivid that Apollo felt he had left the bar, and indeed the entire city, far behind.

Her songs melted one into another, and there were smatterings of applause between each, but for the most part, the audience was quiet, held captive by the music. While some melodies carried Apollo to places distant and unfamiliar, others seemed to pluck memories directly from his heart. Lamiroir’s voice brought him sailing over the dark, cold desert, so clearly he could feel the chill in the air as the stars turned endlessly above. Later, he found himself transported to the edge of a rushing stream, flush with snowmelt and glittering in the fresh dawn of a Khura’inese springtime. Apollo was left breathless.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Lamiroir’s rambling songs came to an end. The audience remained frozen for a long moment, letting the final notes hang in the air and settle from it like motes of dust in the sunlight, before breaking out in applause.

Klavier reached across the table and lifted a hand to Apollo’s jaw, brushing his thumb over his cheek. Apollo started.

“You’re crying,” Klavier said quietly, holding up his damp thumb as evidence. “A perfectly understandable reaction.”

“I—” Apollo hadn’t even noticed his tears, but he wasn’t surprised—he felt like something in his heart was overflowing. The audience applause was fading now, and Apollo realized he had entirely forgotten to clap. “How…?”

“She is incredible, ja?” Klavier asked. “It is truly something you must hear to believe.”

“Yeah, that was…” He broke off as Klavier gently brushed a tear from his other cheek. Now, Apollo had regained enough of his senses that the intimacy of the action did not escape him. Klavier’s thumb trailed electricity in its wake, and Apollo found himself left breathless again, for an entirely different reason.

Then Klavier raised his eyes, too quickly for Apollo to look away. His fingers still cradled Apollo’s jaw, although his gaze alone would have been enough to hold Apollo in place.

Apollo knew he had been caught with an expression he had been so careful not to let Klavier see, where everything he felt might as well have been written in big black letters on his forehead. And Klavier’s eyes were piercing, shining with an intensity that almost would have been more appropriate in a courtroom than in this dim bar.

At the very least, the effect was similar. Apollo felt as though his heart had been cornered.

The next moment, Klavier let out a soft breath, and the force in his gaze melted. His lips parted, his fingers shifted slightly against Apollo’s skin, and he seemed to move incrementally closer—

Then there was a crackle of microphone feedback as someone on stage fumbled their equipment, and they both flinched. Klavier dropped his hand.

“I—” Klavier began to say, then seemed to realize that he didn’t know what he meant to say. His gaze fell on the empty glasses on their table. “I’ll get the next round,” he said finally, pushing back his chair. “What would you like?”

“Uh…surprise me?” In truth, Apollo could not currently recall the name of a single alcoholic beverage. His heart was pounding, and he was grateful that the dim lights at least helped to hide his blush. Klavier smiled and departed, not quite meeting Apollo’s eyes.

Left alone for the moment, Apollo’s thoughts eventually drifted back to Lamiroir—a true testament to her music if there ever was one, given the moment he and Klavier had just shared. The impressions left by her songs lingered in his head—particularly the melody that had transported him so vividly back to Khura’in. Although there was no program for the evening’s show, no song titles announced or listed, and the lyrics had been in another language, Apollo was certain that Lamiroir had been singing about a Khura’inese springtime. The frigid, frothing streams, the flowers bursting into bloom against a backdrop of mountains still capped in snow, sunlight warming the dark rocks and turning them into perfect basking spots for lizards and young boys alike…she had to have visited once, to capture it so perfectly.

“Excuse me?”

Lost in thought, Apollo jumped when a voice addressed him.

“Uh, yeah?”

Beside him, a woman with a small headset over her ear leaned closer to be heard over the ambient noise of the restaurant. She was the same woman who had announced Lamiroir’s act earlier.

“The man you were sitting with—where is he?”

“Klavier?” Apollo nodded towards the bar, where Klavier stood tapping his fingers idly against the tabletop as he waited.

The woman nodded. “Thank you.”

With that, she set off between the tables. Apollo watched her go, curious.

She approached Klavier—Apollo could practically hear the ensuing “Ja, fräulein?”—and they exchanged a few words. Then Klavier’s eyes widened, and a disbelieving smile started to spread on his lips. He nodded quickly, glanced towards the stage, and nodded again. When the woman departed, Klavier almost forgot to grab his drinks before returning to the table.

Apollo only had to give him a questioning look before Klavier explained.

“Lamiroir wants me to perform with her!” He was practically glowing with excitement.

“Wait, really?”

“Ja, she—” Klavier glanced up, nodding to someone behind Apollo. “I have to go. Do you mind?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Klavier grinned, then took a sip of his drink and clasped Apollo’s shoulder briefly as he passed him to head backstage.

Left by himself again, Apollo sipped his drink—Klavier had brought him some sort of fruity cocktail, different from his first but also adorned with a cherry—and congratulated himself for picking just about the perfect activity for cheering Klavier up. Not only was Lamiroir’s music more than enough to take anyone’s mind off their woes for one evening, Klavier was finally getting the wish that Apollo had worried he had cost him—the chance to play with Lamiroir again. Apollo still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lamiroir really had refused at the time because of Apollo’s presence, and he was glad for whatever had caused her to change her mind.

The same woman from before came up to announce the second act, and there were a few scattered cheers when she mentioned Klavier’s name—apparently some other Ivy students were among the audience members.

The musicians took the stage. Klavier and Machi shared a glance, and Machi began to play. The song was simpler than the preceding ones, but Apollo was convinced that Lamiroir’s voice could have made the alphabet song entrancing, so it hardly mattered. The audience was once again captivated.

The guitar came in on the second verse, and despite Lamiroir’s talents, Apollo’s gaze was drawn to Klavier now. To be honest, Apollo couldn’t tell the difference between this guitar and any other acoustic guitar, but Klavier plucked the strings almost reverently, his chords blending seamlessly with Machi’s arpeggios and Lamiroir’s soaring voice.

The song was short, but the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause at the end nonetheless. When Klavier looked up from the guitar, his eyes found Apollo’s immediately, and his ensuing smile caused Apollo’s heart to jump.

Klavier thanked Lamiroir graciously, then gave a short bow to the audience, returned the guitar to one of the other musicians, and hopped off the stage to join Apollo again.

“That was beautiful,” Apollo said sincerely, just as Klavier was taking his seat. Klavier looked up, sweeping back his bangs with one hand.

“Yes, Lamiroir—”

Apollo cut him off. “No—well, yeah, her, obviously—but you, too.”

Klavier froze mid-bang-sweep. His eyes widened.

“…what?” Apollo asked, because this time he wasn’t entirely sure why Klavier was staring at him like that.

Breaking out of his daze, Klavier laughed slightly and shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just that Herr Forehead’s compliments on my music are few and far between.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “Oh! I—I mean…well I don’t—” But he couldn’t exactly deny it—he could probably count on one hand the number of times he had sincerely praised Klavier’s playing. While it didn’t irritate him nearly as much as it had months ago, he rarely admitted as much to Klavier.

“I take no offense, Forehead,” Klavier told him, smiling. “I suppose this just means I had better incorporate the Guitar’s Serenade into my regular set. Although my solo version is not nearly so exquisite.”

“I think it would sound nice,” Apollo said. He dropped his gaze into his drink. “With your voice, that is.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” Klavier said, but when Apollo peeked up at him, he could tell Klavier was pleased.

Lamiroir performed a couple more songs, but her performance wrapped up soon after that, and she left the stage to applause that rattled the tables.

Apollo and Klavier stayed for nearly two hours after that, ordering another round of drinks. Apollo was perhaps a little too tipsy himself to make note of what effects this amount of alcohol had on Klavier, but as the evening went on, he learned to treasure a particularly wide, goofy smile he had never seen on Klavier’s face before, and the way their legs tangled together under the table.

Eventually, they decided that they had better start making their way back to campus. Apollo paid the bill—he was able to get Klavier to agree by pointing out that the money ultimately came from Kristoph—and they stepped out into the night, a little unsteadily at first, but the slight chill of the night helped bring them back to their senses.

As they wound their way through the park, Klavier hummed the song he and Lamiroir had performed. The sound was soothing, and buzzed as he was, Apollo felt like he could just close his eyes and let the melody carry him back to his dorm room.

His shoulder bumped Klavier’s every few steps, but neither of them made a move to step away.

I could hold his hand.

It was the least he could do, really—that moment they had shared earlier, he hadn’t just been imagining that, right?

Their knuckles brushed again by accident. It would be so easy to just—

Before Apollo could muster his courage, Klavier pulled back his hand. For an instant, Apollo was confused, until Klavier draped his arm around Apollo’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

“I’m fairly certain,” Klavier said, his voice frank, “that that was the best night I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

Apollo nodded his agreement. “Me, too.”

With his arm now pressed awkwardly between them, Apollo had no choice but to wrap his arm around Klavier’s waist. Which he did. But to his surprise, Klavier squirmed slightly.

“What’s…” he began, twisting to see Apollo’s hand. “Oh—ha. Your bracelet.”

“Sorry, is it—”

“Nein, nein, I was just confused.” Klavier resumed humming idly, then paused. “Hm. Bracelet.”

Apollo turned his head. “What?”

“I remembered where I saw it before. Or, I saw it again, rather.”

“Whe—” Apollo began, but he was interrupted when they reached the end of the park and had to jog to catch the signal to cross the road back to campus.

“Where?” Apollo asked, slightly breathless now.

“Hm?”

“My bracelet,” Apollo said, unable to keep a note of impatience from his voice.

“Ah, right.” Klavier slipped his arm from around Apollo and took hold of his left hand instead, lifting it to examine the jewelry. “Hm. Ja, Lamiroir. She had the same one.”

Apollo froze, the last remains of his tipsiness draining away. “Wait—what?”

Klavier was still walking, so Apollo found himself tugged along by his hand now. But, unfortunately for Apollo, Klavier still seemed to be floating on the combined high of the cocktails he had consumed and the thrill of playing with Lamiroir again, and he was slow to clarify.

“Ja, ja,” he said. “Just like yours. I forgot to ask…”

He trailed off, and Apollo felt a sudden surge of irritation. You forgot? he wanted to retort, but he caught himself in time. He was being unfair. Klavier hadn’t spent his entire life pondering the mystery of that thick bangle of gold. Of course he would forget, in his excitement over the performance.

So he said nothing, and Klavier started humming again, the matter already far from his mind.

Apollo was so lost in his thoughts, in what Klavier’s observation could possibly mean, that he didn’t even notice that Klavier had threaded their fingers together.

A few minutes later, they reached the point where they usually separated, Apollo to his dorm and Klavier back to the Gavinners house. Klavier turned to face him, his fingers still loosely entwined with Apollo’s.

“Do you know how they say goodbye in Borginia?” he said.

The question was unexpected enough that Apollo was finally shaken from the confused tangle of his thoughts. “Uh, no?”

Klavier reached out to grasp Apollo’s shoulder, then pressed a kiss first to his right cheek, then his left, and then his right again.

His lips lingered against Apollo’s skin longer than Apollo thought was probably customary.

“I had a wonderful night,” Klavier said, still leaning close enough that Apollo could feel his breath. “Gute nacht, Apollo.”

Some snarky part of Apollo’s brain would have remarked on the cultural mismatch, if it had been working properly at the moment. As it was, he was frozen. His head felt so full, fogged with alcohol and Klavier’s closeness and a whole mess of questions that Klavier had unwittingly dumped on him.

There was a part of him that was screaming at him to simply turn his head and claim Klavier’s lips with his, to thread his fingers through that blond twist and pull Klavier even closer. And Klavier seemed to hover there, for a moment, as if he hoped Apollo might do just that, but Apollo was just so overwhelmed—

Klavier straightened, and if Apollo had been paying attention, he would have found it impossible to miss the way his brows crunched together in disappointment.

It was only when Apollo was halfway up the stairs to the second floor that he truly realized his mistake. The moment played back in his head in slow motion—Klavier seemed to lean close for an eternity, their lips inches apart, and Apollo had just done nothing.

Apollo stopped on the landing, leaning against the cinderblock walls and burying his face in his hands. Now, in retrospect, he noticed the look on Klavier’s face—a heartbreaking mixture of confusion, disappointment, and embarrassment, an expression that clearly wondered, Did we just go on the same date?

“Shit,” Apollo muttered, and wearily made his way up the rest of the stairs.

Of course, it was too much to hope that Clay wasn’t waiting up on him.

“How was your date?” The question came before the door had even fallen closed behind him.

Apollo paused. There was so much to say, but he didn’t have the energy required to describe even half of it. He sighed.

“I should have kissed him.”

Clay threw a pillow at him.

Of the members of the Ivy Pre-Law Society, Klavier, Sebastian, and four of the freshmen were all Themis alums, and were therefore the most familiar with the operation of a mock trial. Nearly all of them had participated in some way, with Juniper perhaps having the most experience, having served both as script writer and judge one year.

Despite having been in the same club with her for months, Apollo didn’t know Juniper very well. She struck him as rather quiet, but that may have just been because he almost never saw her without Athena, and Athena was anything but quiet. In fact, Apollo felt like he hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know any of the freshmen very well, despite seeing them nearly every week for club meetings. The Themis graduates in particular were a tight-knit group, constantly exchanging inside jokes and memories from high school, and, quite honestly, Apollo was a little intimidated by them.

But the mock trial was approaching, and like some sort of gigantic group project, it gave Apollo a chance to get to know his other club members a little better. He was particularly glad for this now, since things had suddenly become uncomfortably awkward between him and Klavier. Apollo could just imagine how this seemed to him: they went on a fantastic date, and at the end of the night, after sharing at least three significant stares and many more charged touches, Apollo just hadn’t kissed him.

Apollo had no idea how to explain to Klavier that his hesitation had nothing to do with Klavier himself, and everything to do with the bomb Klavier had accidentally dropped on him. How was he supposed to bring it up? He couldn’t even tell if Klavier remembered the remark that had sent Apollo’s thoughts into a tailspin. And it didn’t help that Klavier seemed determined to avoid him.

And if Klavier was weighing on his thoughts, Apollo’s bracelet was doing the same. Apollo had tried to talk to Clay about it the next morning, but they hadn’t come to any conclusions. Klavier could have been mistaken—he was occupied at the time, and Apollo wasn’t sure he could trust the claim “just like yours.” It had to be a coincidence—because what was the alternative? That Lamiroir, celebrated Borginian singer, was his long-lost mother?

The conversation ended with him nearly in tears, with Clay comforting him. It was like a reflection of their first meeting, all the way back in middle school. Apollo wished his shouting strategy worked just as well now.

The problem was, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was ridiculous—Lamiroir, his mother?—but his mind kept going back to their first meeting, after Trucy’s show. That gaze of hers that seemed to pierce straight through him, that flicker of recognition…but if that was the case, and she was by some miracle his mother…then why had she run away? The thought tapped into all the pain that Apollo had been pushing deeper inside himself for so long: the idea that his mother simply did not want anything to do with him.

He didn’t have the first idea of how to explain this to Klavier, not when he hardly saw him for the rest of weekend. For Sunday, that wasn’t too unusual, but Monday was a different story. He got a text before lunch, a terse message informing him that Klavier had a meeting to attend and wouldn’t be joining him. Then he saw him in class, but Klavier arrived just on time and left as soon as the professor was finished, hardly even giving Apollo an opportunity for polite greetings, let alone explanations. A part of him wanted to be angry that Klavier seemed so unwilling to just talk to him, but then he took a step back and remembered that, from Klavier’s perspective, Klavier was the one who had license to at least be a little frustrated. And if the situation had been reversed, Apollo imagined that he would have been left feeling very foolish that night.

Klavier was probably mortified. Maybe he considered Apollo’s inaction something of a rejection. Maybe he thought Apollo was uncomfortable with his advances. Both were equally distant from the truth—Apollo was literally dreaming about how he wished that night had ended. But of course, Klavier had no way of knowing that.

Apollo walked to the Pre-Law Society meeting alone that evening, since Klavier didn’t meet him in the quad like he usually did. When he arrived at the classroom, Klavier was already there, chatting with Nahyuta.

“…but you can only get it Khura’in,” Nahyuta was saying. “I had to bring a semester’s worth back with me.”

“A pity,” Klavier said. “Perhaps I will have to visit someday.”

“Now is perhaps not the best time,” Nahyuta admitted. “But…” He glanced up, noticed Apollo in the doorway, and nodded a greeting.

Klavier turned, but when he saw Apollo, he tensed slightly.

“Herr Forehead,” he said. The full nickname sounded strangely formal. “Ema just told me she will be able to attend tonight, so we can start thinking about evidence.”

“Oh! Great,” Apollo replied. “Um, Juniper told me that she’ll have a first draft of the script ready soon.”

“Good.” Klavier flipped through his club notebook. “And we’ll need a treasury report tonight, too.”

“Uh, yeah. Got it covered.”

Simon arrived while they were talking. He glanced between Klavier and Apollo, then took a seat next to Nahyuta.

“What happened with those two?” he asked quietly, but not quite quietly enough.

“I have no idea,” Nahyuta replied. He caught Apollo’s gaze. “What indeed.”

Now Simon’s eyes turned on Apollo, too, and Apollo gulped. He realized suddenly that the two of them would be the stuff of nightmares for future defense attorneys.

Finally, Simon looked away and leaned close to Nahyuta to whisper something in his ear. Apollo’s eyes caught the words domestic spat. Nahyuta chuckled.

To Apollo’s relief, the group of freshmen arrived just then, with Sebastian trailing behind them. With everyone accounted for, Apollo went over some general club matters (including the treasury report Klavier requested) while they waited for Ema to arrive.

Which she did, just as he was finishing up. She brought with her a large forensic science kit and an unexpected guest.

“Hey, Pollo!” Clay exclaimed brightly. “We just got out of lab, so Ema said I could come.”

Ema shot him a look. “I literally only said that this is where I was going, there was no invitation attached.”

Clay sighed. “Okay, fine. I was just curious. And I thought maybe you still need a murder victim?”

“Well, we do,” Juniper piped up. “I think I have enough written that we could start thinking about crime scene photos today.”

Clay grinned. “Perfect! Can I die on the moon?”

Juniper faltered. “Um…”

“Ignore him,” Apollo told her, then turned to Clay. “You’re not going to die on the moon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo saw Klavier giving him a somewhat inscrutable look, and decided that he better get this meeting on track before he gave the club president another reason to be upset with him.

“First things first,” he said, addressing the whole group. “Ema’s here to show us some different forensic science techniques that we can use to make up the evidence. We don’t need to actually make everything, but it will add to the realism of the trial if we can get some decent-looking crime scene photographs and a few props. We also need to pick our prosecution and defense soon, because at some point, it will be difficult for them to be involved in the preparations without gaining unrealistic knowledge of the case. We’re just going to do that by a simple vote, so if everyone who wants to be considered could write their name down along with their preferred side, we can get that going.”

“I’ll take care of the vote!” Athena said. She took out a piece of paper and started making a list.

“Okay, thanks.” Apollo turned to her left. “Juniper, you said the script is almost done?”

“Almost,” she said. “I left a few ends loose on purpose, but someone should probably read it over before we start on evidence.”

Sebastian raised a hand. “I can do that.”

“Great.” Reluctantly, Apollo turned to Klavier. “Anything else?”

“Nein, I believe that’s everything for now.” He turned to Ema with a smile. “Fräulein Sk—” he broke off as Ema’s expression turned stormy. “…I’m sorry. Ema?”

“You almost lost me, fop,” she said, and started taking things out of her kit. As she got set up, Athena leaned over to Simon.

“Hey, what’s with them?” Athena’s whispering ability was on par with Clay’s winking ability, so Apollo didn’t have to try to overhear. She fiddled with the large pendant she always wore.

Simon was capable of keeping his voice down, so Apollo didn’t hear his response, but whatever it was made Athena narrow her eyes at him and Klavier.

Is it really so obvious that something’s going on?

Fortunately, Ema had begun her presentation, so the club members couldn’t keep whispering amongst themselves. Apollo watched with interest until a vibration from his pocket made him jump.

He took out his phone and glanced at it, expecting to see an unfamiliar number and ready to ignore it, but instead, Phoenix Wright’s name was glowing on the screen.

Huh? He excused himself quickly and stepped out into the hallway.

“Hello?”

“Apollo, this is Phoenix.”

“Yeah, hi, Mr. Wright. What’s up?”

“Well, I was actually hoping to enlist your help.”

“My…help?” Although his work at Gavin Law Offices didn’t take up all his free time, he wasn’t sure he could manage paperwork at two firms at once.

“Yes. It’s a little bit of a strange request, but…I have an important meeting to attend this weekend, and I was wondering if you would be able to watch Trucy while I’m gone.”

Apollo frowned, confused. “Watch her? Isn’t she a little old to need a babysitter?”

“Ah, yeah, she is, but…” Phoenix paused. “She’ll be finishing up a show a few blocks from the office and I won’t be around to pick her up. So I was hoping maybe you could walk her back to the office and hang out with her there til I get back? Saturday night?”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks a lot, Apollo,” Phoenix said. He gave Apollo the time and address of Trucy’s show, then hung up. As an afterthought, Apollo wondered if Phoenix intended to pay him.

He lingered in the hallway for a minute longer, frowning at his phone. It wasn’t that the request was particularly odd—it was understandable for Phoenix not to want his young daughter to walk home alone at night—but something in his voice had caught Apollo’s attention. He almost wished he been speaking to Phoenix in person, so he could have watched him.

When he returned to the classroom, Klavier cast him a curious look, then immediately looked away, as if he hadn’t meant to show interest in the first place. Apollo sighed.

Even in the few short minutes he had been gone, the meeting had devolved somewhat. The freshmen were sprinkling fingerprint powder on the desks (with Ema encouraging them), while Clay examined a bottle of fake blood, which Ema explained would leave positive results with Luminol. Nahyuta and Simon were chatting, and Sebastian seemed like the only one who was interested in Ema actually continuing her presentation.

Apollo was surprised that Klavier had let things get to this point. He sidled up next to him.

“Um…”

Klavier jumped. “Ach, sorry. What is it?”

His expression was carefully neutral, but Apollo’s bracelet was tightening.

“Well, uh…” He cast a look over the classroom. “I was gone for two minutes.”

“Ema is demonstrating fingerprinting technique—” Klavier blinked, as if he was seeing the chaos for the first time. “Oh. Sorry.”

Klavier took responsibility for getting the meeting back on track, and by the end, Apollo was pretty sure everyone had learned something about forensic science. At the very least, Robin and Athena (and Clay) were all very excited about taking crime scene photos with fake blood.

Klavier ducked out soon after Ema finished, muttering something about Gavinners rehearsal. As soon as he was gone, every eye in the room went to Apollo.

“What’s going on with you two?” Athena demanded.

“W-what? Nothing!”

“I’ve never heard Klavier so unhappy at one of our meetings,” she added. Her frown dared him to deny it.

“You should probably follow him,” Simon recommended. “It’s not healthy to let these things stew.”

“There are no things—” Apollo started to say, glancing around in the hopes that someone might take his side—and made the mistake of looking at Clay, who just nodded pointedly towards the door. Apollo sighed.

“I’ll…see you guys next week,” he grumbled, then headed for the door.

Klavier was halfway to the main quad before Apollo caught up with him.

“Klavier,” he called, and Klavier turned. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which he appeared to be trying very hard to damp down.

“Herr Forehead,” he greeted, reluctantly, and slowed. Apollo fell into step beside him.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Apollo began.

“Ask away.”

There was a detached note in Klavier’s tone that reminded Apollo very distinctly of Kristoph. Internally, he winced.

“Saturday night.” Klavier stiffened slightly. “You said Lamiroir had the same bracelet as me.”

Klavier let out a short sigh. A short, disappointed sigh. Clearly, he had hoped for a different topic of conversation. “Ah. Yes, it was quite the same.”

“You’re sure?” Apollo asked.

“Ja, I…” He broke off. “Ach. Apollo.”

“…what?” Klavier had stopped walking. His eyes were squeezed shut in an uncomfortable grimace.

“Your parents,” he sighed, opening his eyes. “I didn’t forget, exactly, but I—” He let out a short huff of frustration. “I did mean to ask her, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Apollo rushed to say. “You were having a good time. I’m glad.”

Klavier looked at him through his bangs, hesitant.

“And…” Apollo went on. He wanted to add something, but how could he say, I can’t stop thinking about how much I wish I had kissed you, without saying…that?

“I had a really good time, too,” he said finally. “I was just…distracted.”

Klavier looked like he had been holding his breath. He exhaled, then started walking down the sidewalk again, but less purposefully than before, so Apollo didn’t need to make a particular effort to keep up.

“Of course you were,” Klavier said as they left the quad behind. “What do you think it means?”

“Huh?”

“The bracelet,” Klavier clarified.

“Oh. I…don’t know. The last thing I want to do is jump to conclusions, you know?” Apollo was glad he had already talked this through with Clay, so he could speak about it more calmly now. “It could be a more common thing than I thought. Or it’s just something she picked up somewhere.”

“Hm.” Klavier looked thoughtful. “Are you going to try to find out? I’m sure there is some way to contact her.”

Honestly, Apollo hadn’t even thought about it. “I…I don’t know. What would I even say?”

Klavier conceded this.

“It’s probably nothing,” Apollo went on. “I mean, realistically. It’s just a bracelet.”

“Yours hardly is,” Klavier pointed out. He reached out and caught hold of Apollo’s fingers, slowing his pace so he could give the bracelet another look. When he noticed that the metal was pressed ever so slightly into Apollo’s skin, his brows drew together, and he frowned and released Apollo’s hand very quickly. Apollo thought he heard a very quiet “Ach.”

If Klavier had forgotten about Apollo’s supernatural ability, he was remembering now.

“I really should get going,” he said quickly, making a show of glancing at his watch. “I’ll see you in class, Herr Forehead.”

“See you,” Apollo sighed, but Klavier was already waving and picking up his pace again. Trying to keep up to his long strides would just be exhausting, so Apollo let him go and counted the seconds until his bracelet’s squeeze finally subsided.

~~~

Over the next few days, Apollo began to realize that, against all odds, Klavier Gavin was a skittish creature.

Apollo didn’t think that his hesitation after their date had caused any sort of irreparable harm, but lately, Klavier seemed careful not to do anything around Apollo that could be construed as romantic in any way. For anyone else, this change might not have been noticeable, but for Klavier—tactile, indulgently smiling, winking Klavier—the absence was obvious. And it was hard for Apollo to ignore the continuous, subtle press of his bracelet against his wrist that now accompanied Klavier’s presence at all times.

“Apollo,” Clay sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation, when Apollo described this to him. “He’s acting like you.”

Apollo shook his head. “…what?”

“Projecting zero romantic signals? That’s what you do.”

Apollo blinked. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah, no kidding. How’s it feel?”

“Bad,” Apollo said, sighing and falling backwards into his bed. “It’s horrible. God, I suck.”

Clay didn’t say anything to refute that, and Apollo sat up again to shoot him a look.

“Hey, I’m not gonna argue with the truth,” he said.

Apollo groaned. “But I told him why I was distracted…” he protested.

“Yeah, but now he probably just thinks you didn’t even notice when he wanted you to kiss him. So, good news! He’s probably not embarrassed anymore, he just thinks it’s literally pointless to flirt with you because you’re so unbelievably oblivious.”

Apollo made a face. “I have to flirt with him now, don’t I,” he said.

“As I’ve been saying for like four months, yeah,” Clay agreed. “Scowling and making sarcastic comments doesn’t count.”

“I know that,” Apollo retorted. “Give me some credit.”

“I will give credit where credit is due,” Clay replied. “So, what’s your game plan?”

“Game plan…” Apollo murmured. “No plan. I’ll just…” He waved his hands vaguely.

“Yeah, okay. That’s great.” Clay nodded. “If you were my lawyer, I would have full confidence in you right now, totally.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying.”

Apollo lay back on his bed again. Wooing Klavier Gavin, campus heartthrob. Piece of cake.

Not like he had thought of Klavier like that in a long time. Klavier wasn’t some abstract idea anymore, he was a real person with whom Apollo suspected he might be in love. Apollo wasn’t sure if that made this easier, or more difficult.

But he would try. If there was anything he could do to coax Klavier back around to being comfortable around him—short of a legitimate confession, because that thought still terrified him—he would do it.

He was a little unclear on how effective flirting would be in class, though, so he figured maybe another date was in order.

“Hey, Klavier.” Apollo cornered him after class Friday afternoon. “I was wondering, uh, you know that bakery that just opened up down the block? Kitaki Cakes, or something…?”

“I do,” Klavier confirmed, and Apollo really had to wonder if he was copying Kristoph’s tone on purpose, because jeez that was eerie.

“Do you want to stop by there tomorrow night?”

Klavier paused. Apollo could practically see him formulating possible excuses. Studying? We do that together. Gavinners rehearsal? He knows that’s usually during the week. In fact, I thought I might pay Kristoph a visit, so we can argue to our hearts’ content? He wouldn’t even need his lie-detecting bracelet for that one. “I…believe that could be arranged.”

He trailed off, as if reluctant to express positive interest, but Apollo decided to infer.

“Great, so…when are you free?”

Eventually he managed to extract a solid time from Klavier—8:30, because Klavier realized belatedly that he did have an actual excuse in the form of dinner with his bandmates, and he wouldn’t be free until after.

Apollo was so distracted by his success that it wasn’t until his phone vibrated with a reminder Saturday evening that he realized his mistake, halfway through doing his hair. He leaned away from the mirror to look at the notification.

Pick up Trucy – 9:00 PM

“Shit,” he muttered.

He took longer than usual to finish with his spikes (he couldn’t exactly leave them half-done), then reluctantly opened his message thread with Klavier.

            Apollo [8:02 PM]: hey klavier I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to cancel tonight

            Apollo [8:02 PM]: I totally forgot I’m supposed to pick trucy up and watch her for a bit

Of course it was already too late to reschedule to an earlier time; Apollo had to catch the bus in fifteen minutes. He might actually miss it if he didn’t hurry, and he typed a third message as he rushed down the stairs.

            Apollo [8:05 PM]: maybe we can do this tomorrow?

Klavier’s reply didn’t come until Apollo was already on the bus.

            Klavier [8:10 PM]: can’t do tomorrow, I’m afraid. extra gavinners rehearsal for our session on monday

Apollo groaned. He sent another apology and took to staring irritably out the window.

Trucy’s show was at a small establishment downtown known as the Wonder Bar, a sort of restaurant that put on small talent performances. Apollo caught the end of it, and it was almost enough to lift him out of his gloom.

“Hi Polly!” Trucy said when she found him after the show.

“Hey, Trucy. Nice work.”

“Thanks! So we’re going to the office?”

“Yep. Lead the way.” He paused. “You have a key, right?”

“Mmhm. And I could pick the lock if I didn’t.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

Apollo had never been to Wright and Co. Law Offices. He had always wondered a bit at the name; as far as he knew, there was no “and Co.” to speak of. Phoenix was successful, but his practice was just about as different from Kristoph’s as one could get.

Especially now that he had a magician for a daughter. The waiting room was scattered with an assortment of magic props, and it was hard to even recognize the law office under the mess. Apollo wondered if that cost Phoenix potential clients, but then decided that anyone who knew something of Phoenix’s reputation wouldn’t be dissuaded by something like this.

It was comical, though—scarves, hats, coins, and other miscellaneous props scattered around looked well-used, while a shelf of law textbooks was covered in a thick layer of dust. Apollo cringed at the sight and wondered if there was someplace he could find a rag.

Trucy settled down on the couch in front of the TV (Apollo had wondered if she would start practicing her act, but apparently, she was all magicked out after the performance) while Apollo puttered around the office. He couldn’t deny he was somewhat fascinated by the place—this was Wright and Co. Law Offices, formerly Fey and Co…so much had happened here.

Eventually, he did find a rag and some cleaning supplies in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.

“Polly?” Trucy asked, peering at him over the couch. “Did Phoenix hire you to clean, too?”

“Uh…no…” he admitted, halfway through freeing the law textbooks from their mantle of dust. Not to mention that he wasn’t sure he had been “hired” in the first place. “But…nothing like the gleam of clean books, you know?”

Trucy raised an eyebrow, but left Apollo to his dusting.

Apollo finished with the books, then with the rest of the shelf. Then the TV stand. Eventually, there weren’t any more flat surfaces for him to dust, except presumably in Mr. Wright’s office, which was locked. He eyed some crumbs in the couch and wondered if he could find a vacuum.

All the while, Trucy watched him with something like dubious amusement.

“You don’t…need to do that…” she told him uncertainly.

Apollo finished removing dead leaves from a potted plant and looked up. He looked at the scattered magic props, the blinds that he hadn’t dusted, the rug…and realized that this office was probably a lost cause with his current tools.

He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got the urge to clean, I guess.”

A certain amount of it was nervous energy, too. He kept thinking about Klavier.

It was stupid, this miscommunication. They should just—Apollo let out his breath in a determined huff and opened a new text message.

            Apollo: hey can we talk?

He backspaced that one immediately. Way too ominous, way too easily misconstrued.

            Apollo: btw is something wrong? you’ve been

He deleted that one halfway through. He already knew there was something wrong, and Klavier knew he knew, thanks to his telltale bracelet. Klavier would just brush him off.

After a few more aborted attempts, Apollo decided that remedying the situation over text message was probably as futile as his attempts to clean this office. He just needed a chance to talk to him.

He wondered if maybe he should have invited Klavier along tonight, but ultimately decided he was glad he hadn’t. If the entire club had seen through them, then Trucy would in an instant. The awkwardness would have been stifling.

On the TV, a sudden commercial break (a few notches louder than whatever Trucy had been watching) startled him out of his daze. A bouncy tune accompanied the swirl of a yellow cape as Valant Gramarye spun into view, waving a wand as the title of his new magic act appeared onscreen.

“Are you ever going to do shows like that?” Apollo asked Trucy. Her magic was amazing, but if he remembered correctly, Troupe Gramarye tricks had more of a stunt element that wasn’t quite appropriate for small venues.

Trucy sighed. “I don’t know. Phoenix probably wouldn’t let me, even if I could do them.”

Apollo, misinterpreting the sentence for an expression of self-doubt, frowned. “I’m sure you could pull it off—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s the legal issues.” She looked down. “Uncle Valant doesn’t have the performance rights for Granddaddy’s magic. He’s trying, but…” She trailed off and looked at the screen. Valant was levitating high above a stage, but Apollo realized he could see the glint of the strings in the stage lights. “…it’s not actually going very well for him. And he was a real part of Troupe Gramarye, while I only ever watched.”

“Oh,” Apollo said. “So neither of you can do Magnifi’s tricks.”

“Right. Not unless my real daddy…comes back.” Trucy looked down.

Apollo felt a familiar rush of anger. “I still don’t get it. He had no reason to disappear. Kristoph would have gotten him acquitted.”

“Maybe,” Trucy said. “But I think there was more to it than wanting to avoid a conviction. You remember Granddaddy’s letters, right?”

Apollo thought back. “You cannot refuse, or something like that, right? Some kind of…blackmail?”

Trucy nodded. “There was a lot going on in the Troupe, behind the scenes,” she said softly. “I didn’t really start to notice til I got older. Daddy disappearing…I think he just wanted to be done with it all.”

And that included his teenage daughter? Apollo thought angrily.

Trucy smiled slightly, as if she could see what he was thinking. “I’m not mad at him, not really,” she said. “I’m happy with how things are now, with Phoenix and Miles. Maya and Pearls, too,” she added, smiling. “It hasn’t been that long, but they made me feel so welcome, even though they didn’t know me. So, I’m sad sometimes, but…maybe Daddy disappeared not just for himself, but for me, too, in a way.”

Apollo supposed it could be thought of that way. He never really had a chance to feel so charitable towards the parental figures that had left him.

Trucy’s show had come back on a few minutes ago by now, so they both settled down to watch in comfortable silence.

But as the documentary about big cats transitioned into the documentary about black holes, Apollo started to get a little antsy.

He glanced at his watch. It was already past eleven. “Did Mr. Wright tell you what kind of meeting he had?”

Trucy looked up. “Hm? No, he didn’t say anything. Just that it was important.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think it might have had something to do with that guy who came by, the one who smelled like mint.”

“Mint?”

Trucy shrugged. “I was only just getting back from school when he was leaving. Otherwise I would’ve eavesdropped.”

Apollo elected to ignore this flippant breach of filial respect. “It’s getting pretty late,” he remarked.

“Yeah…hm.” Trucy took out her cell phone. “He hasn’t texted me or anything.”

Apollo checked his phone, too. “Yeah, me nei—ah!”

Trucy jumped about a foot in the air. “What? What?”

“Sorry, it just started ringing.” The vibration had startled him. “Oh, it’s Mr. Wright. Hello?”

“Apollo.”

Phoenix’s voice was grave. Apollo frowned.

“Uh, yes? What is it?”

“I’m about to be arrested.”

Apollo jumped up from the couch. “What?!”

“Don’t panic,” Phoenix went on. “I have everything under control.”

Apollo was pretty certain that being arrested was the opposite of “having everything under control.”

“But…what happened?” Apollo noticed Trucy looking at him curiously and realized he should probably choose his words carefully—he didn’t want her to panic, either.

“Well, first of all, I didn’t do it,” Phoenix said. “Although it may be difficult to prove as much.”

“But what, uh…” Apollo glanced at Trucy, then lowered his voice. “What didn’t you do?”

“The charge will be for murder.”

Apollo sucked in a breath.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Phoenix went on. “Like I said, I have this under control. But can I count on you to tell Trucy something?”

“Something?” Apollo echoed.

“Well…the truth. No point in hiding it from her, she’ll catch on right away.”

Apollo, glancing at Trucy’s inquisitive expression, knew he really didn’t have a choice. “Uh, yeah, but…”

“Miles will be around to pick her up,” Phoenix added. “It might end up being pretty late, though.”

“That’s fine,” Apollo said. He wasn’t about to leave Trucy here alone after something like this. “But Mr. Wright…are you going to defend yourself?”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “I believe I might hire your boss, actually.”

“…Kristoph?”

“The Coolest Defense in the West, right? We’ll see. It all depends on his prices, really…” There was the sound of movement. “Apollo, I have to go. Sorry for dumping this on you. But don’t worry. And try to keep Trucy from worrying too much, too.”

“Okay…uh, bye, Mr. Wright.”

The line went quiet. Apollo slowly took his phone from his ear and turned to look at Trucy. Her expression was grave.

“He’s not on his way home, is he?”

Apollo shook his head. “Trucy…uh, Mr. Wright…he’s been arrested.”

As Apollo explained, Trucy’s eyes widened, but by the end of his story, she didn’t look quite as shocked as he had expected her to. Instead, her brow furrowed thoughtfully.

“Are you okay?” Apollo asked, once he had finished telling her what happened.

Slowly, she nodded. “I…I’m not actually that surprised.”

“…really?”

“Phoenix…he’s been really busy with something lately. Not just clients, something else. He and Miles have been having a lot of meetings.” She paused, then amended, “Serious meetings, not their usual meetings.”

“And you think that has something to do with the arrest?”

“I don’t know. But this meeting tonight…he wouldn’t really tell me what it was about. I don’t know who he went to see—unless it was that minty guy. But he was acting like he had a secret.”

“…a good secret?” Doesn’t hurt to hope, right?

Trucy considered this. “You know…I’m not really sure. I don’t think a bad secret, though.”

Helpful.

Trucy and Apollo went back and forth guessing what kind of situation Phoenix might have gotten himself involved in, but with no data to go on, their hypotheses started tending into the ridiculous—although it was hard to get too ridiculous when Phoenix Wright was involved. Apollo was glad to see that at least Trucy didn’t seem to be too anxious over the matter, or maybe she was just hiding it well.

Apollo tried to comfort himself by reminding himself that Phoenix had definitely made it through worse unscathed. The detention center had to at least be a little better than a frozen ravine in the mountains, right?

~~~

An hour passed before a key turned in the lock and Edgeworth stepped into the office. Trucy had fallen asleep on one of the couches, and Apollo was nodding off, too.

“Hello, Mr. Justice,” Edgeworth greeted him. “Wright and I really appreciate your help tonight.”

“Sure, no problem,” Apollo began, then paused. He glanced at Trucy, who was still snoozing on the couch. “Mr. Edgeworth…what happened? Who was…”

The crease between Edgeworth’s brows deepened ever so slightly, and he glanced to Trucy. “You remember Zak Gramarye, yes?”

“Wait, you mean—”

“Wright’s meeting was with him, yes. And he was the victim tonight, although his ID says otherwise.”

“But…what?”

“I do not have all the details, I’m afraid. Wright and I only spoke briefly. But I will be visiting him later. The detention center cannot cry ‘visiting hours’ to me.”

No, I suppose they can’t.

“Will Trucy be okay?”

Edgeworth smiled slightly at that, as he bent down to shake her awake. “Thank you for your concern, Justice. She won’t be alone. Our other babysitter is quite the night owl. Perhaps you know Kay Faraday?”

The name stirred a faint recollection. “Back from Zheng Fa?” he guessed.

“Yes, that’s right.” Trucy stirred awake as he spoke.

“Oh, I fell asleep…” She sounded surprised at herself. “Hi, Miles.”

Apollo had only ever heard Phoenix call the Chief Prosecutor by his first name to his face—it looked to him like Edgeworth was still getting used to it himself.

“Trucy,” he greeted her. “Ready to go home?”

She nodded and gathered up her things, and soon the three of them were descending the stairs to where Edgeworth’s car was parked in the alley. Edgeworth offered him a ride back to Ivy, which Apollo gratefully accepted.

Apollo expected Trucy to be full of questions, but their drive to Ivy was quiet. Apollo was sure Edgeworth had more details about Phoenix’s arrest, but the prosecutor’s habitually severe expression had an unusually grim edge to it, so he decided not to press the subject.

When they arrived at campus, Trucy stopped Apollo as he was getting out of the car.

“Polly?” Her eyes were wide. “Visit Vera with me tomorrow?”

Apollo nodded. “Of course, Trucy.”

He bid the both of them a sober goodnight and started a slow walk back to his dorm.

It was a pleasant evening, cool but with breaths of spring in the air, and he couldn’t help but wish he was sharing it with Klavier on their way back from the bakery, instead of walking alone in the dead of night after the arrest of one of his biggest role models.

Speaking of which…he took out his phone.

            Apollo [12:04 AM]: hey, sorry again about earlier. but something happened, so if you have the chance to talk…

To his surprise, Klavier’s response came before Apollo could even replace his phone in his pocket.

            Klavier [12:04 AM]: is trucy ok???????

            Apollo [12:05 AM]: sorry, trucy’s fine. but mr wright…it’s hard to explain

More of a delay, this time. Apollo dawdled on the sidewalk, phone in hand.

            Klavier [12:07 AM]: do you want to come over?

Apollo stared at his screen. It was just past midnight—he had been planning to go back to his room, crawl into bed, and deal with the evening’s events in the morning. Clay had an early start tomorrow—a shift at the Gyaxa Space Center—and was probably already asleep…suddenly the idea of having someone just to be around was extremely appealing.

            Apollo [12:08 AM]: yeah actually. omw

When Klavier answered the door, he was dressed in purple flannel pants and a t-shirt, and he had already switched out his contacts for glasses.

“Come on in,” he said, as Apollo glanced him over.

“Sorry,” Apollo began. “Were you getting ready for bed?”

Klavier shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m boiling some water—do you want tea?”

“That sounds great, actually.”

He followed Klavier inside to the kitchen, where an electric kettle was bubbling. Klavier leaned against the counter. Apollo wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself.

“Hey, Klavier…” he said after a moment, and his tone must have carried enough of his intended apology that Klavier interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it. Pastries will be there another day, ja?”

Apollo glanced up, met Klavier’s eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Definitely.”

They lapsed into silence again, but more comfortably this time. As the water boiled, Klavier made no attempt to ask Apollo what had happened, and Apollo was glad for it. He still needed a few minutes to organize his thoughts.

Instead, Klavier offered his tea selection, and they spent a minute sifting through their options. Klavier filled a Themis Academy mug with hot water, handed it to Apollo, and took another mug for himself. Apollo noticed that it was emblazoned with the words GAVIN LAW OFFICES.

“Ha,” he said. “Didn’t realize Kristoph had his own mugs.”

“It was a company Christmas gift a while back,” Klavier said, holding it up to look at it. “Not even sure how it ended up here, actually.”

He filled his mug and nodded towards the living room, from which Apollo could hear the faint babble of the TV. “Sam is watching a documentary, if you want to join them. Or we can go upstairs.”

“Um. Upstairs is good.” Klavier led the way.

There was music playing quietly in Klavier’s room; after a moment, Apollo recognized the Jangly Jove album, and he appreciated the gesture, if that was what it was. Klavier closed the door behind him, set his mug down on his bedside table, and hopped up on the bed. After a moment of hesitation, Apollo did the same, sitting cross-legged on one end while Klavier leaned against his huge Blue Badger plush.

“So…what happened?”

Apollo had decided there was no point in beating around the bush. “Mr. Wright was arrested.”

Klavier sucked in a breath. “What?!” He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. “For…for what?”

Apollo felt his lips twist into an ironic smile. “Is Phoenix Wright ever involved in a case that isn’t a murder?”

“Mein Gott,” Klavier muttered, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Apollo cupped his hands around his mug and watched his tea steep. “He didn’t do it. I know he didn’t do it. But…”

“Trucy,” Klavier finished.

Apollo nodded. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s already been through so much. And the victim…”

Klavier glanced at him. “There’s more?”

“Zak Gramarye was the one who was killed.”

Klavier could only stare. “That’s…”

“He disappears for nearly six months then shows up only to be murdered, yeah,” Apollo said. “I don’t know the circumstances beyond that. But I’m sure it will be in the news tomorrow.”

“Will Wright defend himself?” Klavier looked thoughtful now.

“He actually said he might hire Kristoph.”

Klavier’s eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

“I was surprised, too,” Apollo said. He glanced to his left, at the photographs taped to the wall. A handful of younger Kristophs smiled serenely back at him.

“Well,” Klavier said, following his gaze, “he is the best.”

“Hm.” Apollo stared into his tea again. His thoughts were drifting back to Trucy. Maybe Kristoph was the best, but anything could happen. And Trucy could be left without a family again.

“Do you want to watch something?” Klavier said, and Apollo looked up. “Unless you would rather just go home and go to sleep…but I believe Netflix just added some of the old Steel Samurai series.”

“The one with the bad special effects?” Apollo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The one with the uniquely terrible special effects,” Klavier corrected. He slid off the bed and went to retrieve his laptop, switching off the room lights and turning on a smaller lamp as he did so. “Interested?”

“Oh, definitely,” Apollo said. He was tired, but despite that, he had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep very well. Marathoning a low-budget TV show was probably a better use of his time than tossing and turning.

Klavier moved so he and Apollo sat side-by-side leaning against the wall, with the laptop halfway in each of their laps.

“Have you ever seen any of this?” Klavier asked, looking at him sideways as the theme music started up.

“Only clips,” Apollo said.

“Me, too. Kris hated it, he always made me turn it off.”

The two of them laughed as the theme song finished with the Steel Samurai posing against a poorly rendered backdrop of Neo Olde Tokyo. But as the episode started, Apollo realized he was more exhausted than he thought.

Klavier kept up enough of an amused commentary to keep him awake for the first episode, but halfway through the second, Apollo’s eyelids started to droop in earnest.

Klavier’s shoulder didn’t make the best pillow, but Apollo didn’t have any objections.

~~~

Apollo woke to bright sunlight.

He was comfortable, though, and he woke sluggishly, the last threads of his dreams mixing confusingly with his lucid thoughts. He breathed in, and something smelled distinctly like Klavier, a subtle touch of cologne that Apollo had never quite consciously recognized; the scent collected the lingering wisps of his dreams into the shape of the man himself, pulling Apollo closer, pressing their lips together—

“Mmmghm,” Apollo grumbled, and rolled over.

Suddenly, he found himself smothered by something large, soft, and blue.

He flailed frantically, and Klavier’s Blue Badger plush went toppling to the floor. Apollo sat bolt upright.

Wait. …what?

He was in Klavier’s room. In Klavier’s bed. Having just launched Klavier’s ridiculous stuffed animal (if the Blue Badger could be called such) halfway across the room to narrowly miss his row of expensive guitars.

Klavier himself was nowhere to be seen. For a solid minute, Apollo just sat in the middle of the bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to figure out what was going on.

It was easy enough to do, once he was fully awake. He remembered watching the Steel Samurai with Klavier, but he very significantly did not remember walking back to his dorm. Which explained why he was here. In Klavier’s bed.

A fragment of his dream drifted into Apollo’s thoughts and his breath caught. That didn’t really happen, did it?

Apollo quickly decided that no, the only thing he remembered was leaning on Klavier’s shoulder then presumably falling asleep. Even so, he indulged in the dream-memory for a moment, then shook himself, pushed back the covers, and hesitantly opened the door of the bedroom.

The upstairs hallway was empty, but Apollo could hear voices downstairs. Feeling more than a little apprehensive, he padded down the stairs in his socks and slowly approached the kitchen.

Daryan and Klavier sat at the kitchen table. They both had mugs of coffee, and Daryan was laughing at something. Klavier looked up first.

“Forehead! Guten Morgen.”

Klavier smiled at him. He was already dressed, his glasses were gone, and his hair was done—Apollo wondered faintly how much longer he had been awake.

But behind his smile…Apollo’s bracelet tensed slightly. He might have made nothing of it, but Klavier’s hand drifted not to the end of his hair, but to the intersection of his neck and shoulder instead. Apollo had to resist the instinct to focus more closely.

“Uh…morning. Um…” He paused, not entirely sure how to address the circumstances that had led to this moment. “Sorry for taking your bed?”

Klavier dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “Not at all. Did you sleep well? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah, I did. And sure, thanks.”

He took a seat in one of the free chairs while Klavier prepared him another mug. Across the table, Daryan sipped his coffee with an amused glint in his eye. Apollo greeted him with a hesitant nod—he still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Daryan.

The Gavinners guitarist wore his hair down for once, and Apollo was faintly surprised by how long it was. He brushed a strand of it behind his ear and met Apollo’s eyes for a second before turning in his chair to address Klavier.

“So, where’d you sleep, Klav?”

“The couch,” Klavier said lightly.

Apollo’s bracelet squeezed. Although Klavier was facing away from him, Apollo couldn’t help but notice him rubbing that spot on his neck again. This time, Apollo let himself focus on it.

As Klavier’s fingers brushed over his skin, something seemed to…smudge? What was that? Makeup? But why would he have makeup on his neck—

Wait.

Apollo glanced back to Daryan, at the lazy smile on his face and the sharp glint in his eyes.

Wait.

“It’s more comfortable than it looks,” Klavier went on, turning around with a mug of coffee in his hand, which he placed in front of Apollo. Meanwhile, Apollo’s bracelet felt about ready to amputate his hand.

Did they…?

As the pieces fell together in his head, Daryan caught Apollo’s eyes. He held them for a moment before turning to Klavier again. “Really? Sure you won’t be sore?”

Klavier’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine,” he muttered, then took a sip of his coffee.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Daryan snorted a laugh. He pushed back his chair and stood, but took a moment to stoop next to Klavier and murmur something in his ear. Klavier flushed and shot him a sour look.

“See you later, Spikes,” Daryan called, giving Apollo a halfhearted wave as he walked out of the kitchen.

Klavier’s expression was a potent mixture of embarrassment and irritation. He glared down at his mug, his bangs hiding his eyes.

Apollo didn’t want to believe the conclusions his brain was forming, but there hardly seemed like an alternative. But maybe his intuition was wrong for once? Maybe there was a perfectly innocent reason for Klavier to have a small purplish mark covered by makeup on his neck??

An awkward silence was fast forming in Daryan’s wake. Apollo was immensely relieved when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He dug it out, glanced at the screen, and grimaced.

            Clay [7:00 AM]: hey did you come back last night

            Clay [7:30 AM]: just let me know that you’re not dead k

            Clay [8:15 AM]: pollo

            Clay [8:20 AM]: wait holy shit if you’re with klavier ignore all of this fucking FINALLY

            Clay [9:05 AM]: holy fucking shit I just saw the news

            Clay [9:06 AM]: POLLO TEXT ME

The messages continued on like that for a while, culminating in:

            Clay [10:06 AM]: sol’s confiscating my phone but TEXT ME

“Crap,” he muttered, and shot Clay a quick message, heavy on the apology but light on the explanation, promising to give him more details later.

But the messages had reminded him why he had ended up at the Gavinners’ house last night in the first place—for the briefest moment, he was actually thankful that Mr. Wright had gotten involved in some huge scandal, because at least it was something to talk about. He pulled up a search engine and quickly found an article covering Phoenix Wright’s arrest.

“So he did hire Kristoph,” he muttered. Klavier looked up.

“Yes,” he said. “But if you read further, none of the articles identify the victim. You said Edgeworth said it was Gramarye?”

“Yeah, he did…” Apollo told him. He scrolled through the article. “He was killed with a bottle? Jeez…”

Unfortunately, the article didn’t have enough details to last Apollo through his entire cup of coffee. He put his phone down and just barely caught sight of Klavier watching him before he averted his gaze.

What am I even supposed to say? ‘Hey, thought we sort of had a thing going, so I’m just a little curious about that bruise on your neck, what’s the deal?’

He and Daryan had broken up, right? We work better as friends, Klavier had said. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything—Apollo had just thought—

I can’t really be mad when I’m the one who still hasn’t asked him out.

Apollo stared down at his mug, mind racing, and he might have stayed that way indefinitely had a quiet laugh not interrupted his thoughts.

When Apollo looked up, Klavier was trying not to smile.

“What?”

“For once I can’t see Herr Forehead’s forehead.”

Apollo’s hair had persevered valiantly through the night, and he had managed to brush it back with his fingers that morning, but with his head bowed over the table, his bangs had succumbed to gravity at last and had fallen across his face.

“Yeah, yeah—” Apollo began sourly, but broke off when Klavier reached over and brushed his bangs to the side.

“It looks cute like this, too,” Klavier said, his expression appraising. “Why do you always wear it up?”

The word cute bounced around Apollo’s head. He stared.

A week ago, he might have blushed and stammered an answer, and it would have been just one of many similar moments. But this was the first affectionate gesture Klavier had made all week, and it was the morning after someone had left a small bruise on Klavier’s neck that he was trying to hide, and all of this together with the fact that Apollo’s role model was currently in jail was just entirely too much.

“Um. I should go. I have…stuff.” Apollo abruptly pushed back his chair, out of Klavier’s reach. “Thanks for the coffee,” he muttered as he stood up.

Klavier’s hand hovered in midair for a moment, then he shook himself and stood, trailing after Apollo as he left the kitchen. He lingered awkwardly in the front hall as Apollo put on his shoes.

“Apollo,” he said, just as Apollo was about to open the door.

“…yeah?”

“Um.” Klavier stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze. “I…please pass on my sympathies to Trucy.”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

The morning was sunny, but Apollo’s walk back to his dorm felt particularly bleak.

There’s always something.

Klavier knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at Apollo, for canceling on him. They could have gone out any number of times throughout the week, if Klavier himself hadn’t been so stubborn about it. And it certainly wasn’t fair to be mad at Phoenix Wright, for getting accused of murder, but even so…

Klavier stepped out into the hall, closed his bedroom door behind him, and leaned against it wearily.

I should have just kept my mouth shut about the stupid bracelet.

It wasn’t fair to be upset with Apollo for that, either. It was all he had left of his parents—of course he had been distracted.

But even as Klavier acknowledged all this, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

When Apollo had nodded off against his shoulder, he had been very tempted to just…stay. To fall asleep with him, to wake up with arms and legs tangled in Klavier’s narrow bed…come morning, maybe he would see that look in Apollo’s eyes again, the one that had made him so certain, for just a moment, that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. Maybe this time he would have the courage to say something about it.

But he couldn’t. He had needed to get up to put his computer away, and after that, it would have been dishonest to settle in beside the sleeping Apollo and pretend the situation had just arisen naturally. So Klavier had tucked a blanket around him and left him alone, and now he was facing a restless few hours of sleep on the lumpy couch downstairs.  

He sighed and tried to push images of Apollo curled in his bed out of his mind.

“Hey.”

Klavier paused on the top of the stairs and turned. Behind him, Daryan was leaning out of his bedroom, one eyebrow raised.

“C’mere.”

Klavier bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, then followed.

Daryan shut his door behind them, then hopped up on his bed and patted the spot next to him. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of Daryan’s screensaver from the laptop on his desk.

“Thought I heard your boyfriend,” Daryan began as Klavier settled beside him. “What happened?”

Klavier sighed. “Nothing.”

“Well, clearly,” Daryan scoffed. “But why are you here while he’s in there?”

“We were just watching TV. He fell asleep.”

“Ah, and Klavier Gavin, ever the gentleman, sacrificed his bed,” Daryan said, nodding.

“Of course I did,” Klavier shot back. “He’s had a long night.”

“Mm.” Daryan shifted closer. “You gonna sleep on the couch?”

Klavier gave a small nod. “Ja.”

“You know how uncomfortable that thing is, right?”

“It’s fine—”

“I don’t mind if you stay here.”

Klavier sucked in a breath. Daryan’s tone was casual enough, but he was watching Klavier intently out of the corner of his eye.

“Dar…” he sighed.

“Yeah?” Daryan’s voice was lower now, and his hand had found Klavier’s thigh.

“We can’t…keep doing this.” Even so, he didn’t move.

“You say that every time.” Daryan leaned closer. “And then a month later you end up here.”

It had been nearly three months, actually, although he suspected Daryan would just laugh if he corrected him. He had regretted their last such encounter over winter break almost as soon as it happened. Things had been going so well with Apollo, but then Kristoph had practically threatened to rescind his tuition assistance if he caught Klavier lurking around Gavin Law Offices again. He hated that his dependence on his brother forced him to comply, but he had no choice, even if he was ninety-percent sure Kristoph was making empty threats.

Not that he could entirely blame his brother—he could have easily met up with Apollo elsewhere, and he had fully intended to, once he finished with the daily Gavinners rehearsals. But working on recording meant that he and Daryan found plenty to argue over, which recreated a climate so similar to the previous year that he wasn’t exactly surprised when he found himself in Daryan’s bed again.

Not surprised, but definitely disappointed in himself. After that, the parade of family members that Kristoph was entertaining was just a convenient excuse to avoid Apollo.  

Now, Klavier grumbled something unintelligible and slumped forward slightly, and Daryan took the opportunity to pull him into his arms. Klavier didn’t resist, mostly because Daryan actually gave very good hugs. He rested his head in the crook of Daryan’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Then Daryan pressed a soft kiss to corner of Klavier’s jaw, right below his ear. The action was tentative—he waited a moment, to see if Klavier would move away.

Klavier engaged in a brief internal debate with himself, then sighed and relaxed into Daryan’s arms.

Daryan kissed him again, and his hands slipped under the hem of Klavier’s t-shirt and roved over his torso.

“I just don’t get it, Klav,” he murmured against Klavier’s skin. “Half the reason we broke up was because you had a crush on a guy you’d never even talked to. But a year later, you’re still here.”

Klavier sighed. He didn’t have a response for Daryan, because nothing he said was wrong.

They had broken up over Apollo. Klavier’s pining may have been invisible to the object of his affection—especially so long ago—but to Daryan it was obvious enough. He had been angry at first—hence the explosive break-up—but as time went on and Klavier made it obvious that he had no clue how to approach Apollo with his feelings…he fell into old habits, as it were.

Things were easy with Daryan, and uncomplicated now that they acknowledged that there was no romance in their occasional trysts. And Apollo was driving Klavier crazy—he had thought for so long that the aspiring lawyer was the type to charge headfirst into things, leaving the thinking for later, but as much as Klavier wanted to believe that Apollo was interested in him, everything between them still seemed so uncertain. Not only that, whenever Klavier thought he might be able to gather the courage to finally make a move no matter how unsure he was of Apollo’s feelings, something seemed to happen that got in the way. And Klavier was left wanting.

So, with a resigned sigh, he turned to Daryan, and let himself be pushed back against the mattress as Daryan rained open-mouthed kisses down his neck and slipped a hand under the waistband of his pajamas.

And if Klavier gasped the wrong name once or twice, Daryan didn’t seem to mind.

~~~

“Morning, sunshine.”

Klavier groaned. He was too warm—he and Daryan were squeezed too close together in Daryan’s twin bed, and it took Klavier a moment to remember why he hadn’t simply returned to his own room.

When he did remember, his eyes popped open.

“Don’t worry, it’s still early,” Daryan assured him. “Your boyfriend isn’t awake yet.”

Klavier relaxed, but only slightly. “Stop calling him that,” he muttered. Maybe it was almost effectively true—that night at Lamiroir’s concert had been a date, right?—but the phrasing made Klavier feel much worse about what had happened last night.

Daryan rolled his eyes and started to sit up. “You can shower first,” he said.

Klavier nodded but didn’t move. He was already wishing he wasn’t here, wishing he had just pushed Daryan away and gone to sleep on the couch.

Or…that wasn’t quite right. Truly, he was wishing that he had woken up in his own bed, in someone else’s arms. The thought that that someone else was actually in his bed right now made his stomach do a flip.

He looked up at Daryan, who was sweeping his hair out of his face and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. It was an extremely familiar sight—and Klavier was so, so tired of it.

“I’m going to tell him,” Klavier said softly. Daryan turned his head.

“Hm?”

“Apollo. I’m going to tell him how I feel.”

Daryan raised an eyebrow. “Right now?” he asked dubiously.

“No,” Klavier said. This was the wrong moment—but there would never be an absolutely right moment. “But soon.”

“Okay.” Daryan still sounded doubtful.

Klavier sat up. He looked Daryan in the eyes. “And this isn’t happening again.”

Daryan was quiet for a moment before answering. “Sure,” he said, but there was a glint in his eye that made Klavier worry.

“Dar…”

“Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes,” Daryan said. He leaned down and picked Klavier’s flannel pants up off the floor and tossed them at Klavier’s chest. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“Don’t try to make this into some kind of break-up when we weren’t even dating,” Daryan interrupted. “We did that shit already. I knew you’d grow a spine eventually—that’s why I ended things.”

“I’m…”

“And don’t apologize, either. I’m fine.” He paused, then dropped his gaze. “It was fun while it lasted, you know? But that was all it was. Fun.”

Klavier bit his lip. He knew Daryan wasn’t lying, but even so…

He pulled on his pants, then leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Daryan’s cheek.

“Still friends, ja?”

Daryan rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears reddened. “Ja,” he shot back, then gave Klavier a once-over. “Now hurry up and take a shower before your boyfriend wakes up and sees you looking like that.”

Klavier shook himself. “Right.”

He hopped out of bed, then caught sight of his reflection in the mirror over Daryan’s nightstand. A purple mark blossomed at the intersection of his neck and shoulder.

“Seriously, Dar?” he groaned, shooting him an irritated look. Daryan just licked his lips and gave him a languid smile.

“Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t look particularly remorseful. “Just something to remember me by.”

Klavier took probably the fastest shower he had taken in over a year, then started on his hair and make-up, all the while keeping an ear out for the sound of his bedroom door opening. Thankfully, Apollo must have been really tired, because the door was still closed when Klavier finally emerged, hair styled to perfection and concealer applied carefully to the mark on his neck.

Daryan still looked like a disaster when Klavier joined him in the kitchen, but at least he had put a shirt on. Klavier scanned his face for any sign that his friend was upset with him, but Daryan just gestured to a fresh mug of coffee, so Klavier took the invitation to join him at the table.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Klavier took the chance to check the news on his phone, skimming through an article about Phoenix Wright’s arrest.

“By the way,” Daryan said suddenly, and Klavier tensed. “I still think we should do ‘My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness’ tomorrow.”

Klavier relaxed. If Daryan was ready to squabble about band things, then everything was probably okay between them, at least. “It’s not ready,” he replied immediately, not even looking up.

“It’s the best new song we have. It’ll catch people’s attention.”

“You just want your guitar solo on the EP.”

“Hell yeah I want my guitar solo on the EP! It’ll be fine. We always nail it eventually.”

“Eventually,” Klavier repeated. “We have limited time. I don’t want to waste it rehearsing.”

“Guilty Love can’t carry the EP on its own.”

“Guilty Love is polished. Witness isn’t.”

“We’re a rock band, we don’t need to be polished.” He met Klavier’s eyes. “Sometimes you just gotta jump in.”

Klavier suspected they weren’t only talking about the song. He was about to reply with something about how he wasn’t quite satisfied with the lyrics, but before he could, he heard the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs.

He froze. “That was Sam’s,” he said, slowly.

Daryan smirked. “Nope, totally yours.”

“Do not say anything.”

“About what?” Daryan said airily, but his grin made Klavier worry.

“Daryan…”

Daryan cackled, just as footsteps came down the hall and Apollo appeared in the kitchen.

“Forehead! Guten Morgen,” Klavier said brightly. He kicked Daryan under the table.

“Uh…morning. Um…” Apollo paused. His hair had wilted somewhat, so it was flat against his head, and there was a pillow crease on his cheek. He blinked tiredly, and Klavier found it unbearably endearing. “Sorry for taking your bed?”

Klavier dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “Not at all. Did you sleep well? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah, I did. And sure, thanks.”

Apollo took a seat, and Klavier realized belatedly that getting up to pour the coffee meant leaving Daryan and Apollo at the table together.

Halfway through filling Apollo’s mug, Klavier heard the scrape of Daryan’s chair as he turned.

“So, where’d you sleep, Klav?”

I’m going to kill him.

“The couch,” Klavier replied, without turning around. He scratched his neck. “It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

He finished making Apollo’s coffee and set it down in front of him. As he returned to his seat, he caught Daryan’s eyes and gave him a warning look.

Daryan’s smirk only grew. He glanced at Apollo, then back to Klavier.

“Really? Sure you won’t be sore?”

 If he stomped on Daryan’s foot under the table now, Apollo would definitely notice, so he settled for a venomous glare instead. Too late, he realized he probably could have bought Daryan’s silence by agreeing to record the song he wanted at their session tomorrow.  “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, and took a sip of his coffee.

Daryan was completely unfazed—after all, he had had more than enough time to build up immunity to even Klavier’s most severe glares. But to Klavier’s immense relief, he pushed back his chair and stood.

But as he started to leave, he paused behind Klavier’s chair.

“He totally knows, but you’ll thank me later, sunshine,” he whispered. “See you later, Spikes,” he added, as he sauntered out of the kitchen.

Klavier couldn’t bring himself to look up from his coffee. He could feel Apollo’s eyes on him.

If only he had thought to consider this moment last night.

Thankfully, Apollo was soon distracted by his phone, and Klavier was relieved of his scrutiny for a moment.

“So he did hire Kristoph,” Apollo muttered.

Right, Klavier recalled. Wright.

“Yes,” he said. “But if you read further, none of the articles identify the victim. You said Edgeworth said it was Gramarye?”

“Yeah, he did…” Apollo told him. “He was killed with a bottle? Jeez…”

With Apollo’s attention elsewhere, Klavier could watch him safely for a minute. Apollo scrolled through the article on his phone, brow furrowed and lips turned down in a contemplative pout. His hair, though it had been combed back, started to shift slowly, before finally springing free and falling over his forehead. Despite himself, Klavier chuckled.

Apollo looked up, and it was strangely amusing to Klavier, to only be able to see half of his usual scowl.

“What?” Apollo demanded.

“For once I can’t see Herr Forehead’s forehead.”

“Yeah, yeah—” Apollo began sourly.

Sometimes you just gotta jump in, Klavier thought, and reached across the table to brush the hair away from Apollo’s eyes.

“It looks cute like this, too,” he said honestly, although he had yet to determine if Apollo ever didn’t look cute.  “Why do you always wear it up?”

Klavier had grown to appreciate the spikes (and he couldn’t exactly say anything about unconventional hairstyles) but he had to wonder why Apollo was so dedicated to such a high-maintenance look.

But instead of providing an answer, Apollo just gaped at him. Klavier felt dread drip into his stomach.

“Um. I should go. I have…stuff.” Apollo’s excuse was hurried, and he seemed determined to look at anything but Klavier. “Thanks for the coffee,” he added as he retreated from Klavier’s touch.

For a moment, Klavier was frozen, his hand stuck in midair, reaching towards the man who was now making a hasty exit from the kitchen.

You can’t just call him cute and expect that to fix everything, he told himself, but even so…couldn’t this just be easy, for once?

At the very least, Apollo was delayed somewhat by the task of putting on his shoes, so Klavier had another chance…

“Apollo,” he began.

What now? An extravagant romantic gesture in the front hall? A confession? An apology?

Apollo looked up, his eyes hard, and doubt clenched around Klavier’s heart again.

“Um.” Klavier stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze. “I…please pass on my sympathies to Trucy.”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

And he was gone. Klavier gazed sightlessly at the door, then closed his eyes for a long moment. A void of self-pity yawned before him, and it looked ever so inviting.

Then he thought about Apollo’s sleepy-eyed morning face, and that stubborn lock of hair that he would very much like to have the chance to brush off Apollo’s forehead one more time.

He opened his eyes. He took a deep breath.

Very determinedly, he put Daryan, Phoenix Wright, and every other distraction out of his mind, then turned on his heel and started up the stairs.

Back in his room, he plucked a guitar from its stand, took out a notebook, and settled on his bed. The journal easily fell open to a page dark with words crossed-out and scrawled in margins, criss-crossed with arrows and shorthand notes. Klavier chewed on his lip, considering a particularly messy section critically.

His hands found a chord, and he strummed it experimentally. Satisfied, he moved on to the next one, muttering lyrics under his breath.

Across the room, his phone buzzed with an email notification, but he ignored it. He had a song to finish, and he wasn’t going to rest until it was done.

With Clay’s phone confiscated by his Gyaxa boss, Apollo knew he wouldn’t be able to get in touch with him until he got off his shift in the middle of the afternoon. Trying to push thoughts of Klavier aside, Apollo took out his phone and texted Trucy instead.

She had asked him to visit Vera with her, but that was before she could have known the identity of last night’s murder victim. Apollo wouldn’t be surprised if the revelation changed her plans.

But Trucy responded with a thumbs-up and a time. Apollo had time to shower and grab some lunch before getting on the bus to the hospital.

Unfortunately, the bus offered very few distractions from his thoughts. He couldn’t stop thinking about that picture Clay had “accidentally” liked, months ago, with Klavier pressing a kiss to Daryan’s temple. He tried to think if there was some way he was misinterpreting the morning’s events, but no matter how many ways he turned the evidence over in his head, he came to the same conclusion.

But then there was cute.

Klavier may have been tense all morning, but Apollo’s bracelet had given no extra twinge after cute.

Your Honor, as you can see, there's a contradiction here. Could I please ask that the disarmingly attractive witness add that statement to his testimony—

He shook himself. He would start composing an entire trial if he wasn’t careful.

“Hey, Polly,” Trucy greeted him when he arrived at Vera’s room. Her voice was subdued, but she still smiled, and Apollo’s bracelet only reacted a little.

“Hey,” he said, returning the smile. But when he did so, Trucy frowned.

“Are you okay?” she asked as he sat down in the chair next to hers. In front of them, Vera slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths.

Apollo looked up. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Trucy shook her head slightly. “I’m okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I believe in Phoenix.”

Apollo frowned. “What about…?”

Now Trucy’s eyes fell on the stamp beside Vera’s bed. They clouded over just a little.

“My real daddy was already gone,” she said finally. “He told me as much. I already…” She sniffed. “I already did all that crying, you know?”

That made a certain sort of sense, although Apollo knew from experience that that wasn’t really how it worked. Trucy seemed to sense his doubt.

“Well, okay,” she admitted, “I did ruin one of Miles’ cravats last night, too. But I’m okay now.” She turned to him, her expression determined. “But you’re not.”

“I…” Apollo couldn’t exactly argue. With everything that had happened in the past few days, he could hardly keep the questions in his head straight. Klavier. Lamiroir’s bracelet. Mr. Wright’s arrest. Klavier and Daryan.

Not to mention Vera, asleep in her hospital bed. Apollo still wasn’t satisfied with the official explanation for her poisoning. There was so much he wanted to know.

He dropped his head into his hands. “Nngh.”

Trucy snickered. “Yeah, I thought so. Wanna talk about it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” Some of it, maybe, but he wasn’t about to tell an eighth-grader that he was ninety-percent sure his crush had slept with someone else last night.

He felt faintly guilty that, of all things, this was the issue his brain couldn’t let go of right now. Surely he should be preoccupied with more important things, like the fact that Phoenix Wright was going to be tried for murder this week?

Maybe it would be better just to not think about any of it. He lifted his head and looked at Trucy. “Do you have any magic tricks to show me?”

Her face lit up. “Do you have any coins?”

“Uh…” Apollo really didn’t want his bus fare to disappear. “How about something else?”

“Hmm…” Trucy tapped her chin, her eyes glancing around the room. “Ah!”

She snatched the framed stamp from beside Vera’s bed. Taking off her hat, she held out the hat and the stamp, then dropped the stamp inside.

“The stamp is in the hat, yes?” she asked, holding it out for Apollo to see. He nodded in agreement.

She took the hat back, then reached inside. “Vera probably wants it back, though, so I’ll get it for her.” Her hand emerged, but instead of a stamp, she was holding a scarf. “Hm.” She reached in again and came out with a flower. A stuffed rabbit. A handful of marbles. Apollo’s student ID.

“Hey!”

Trucy gave an exaggerated frown. “Well, I just can’t seem to get it,” she said. “How about you try, Apollo?”

She held out the hat to him again. The stamp still rested at the bottom. Glancing at Trucy skeptically, he reached inside, closed his fingers around the frame, and pulled it out.

But when his hand emerged from the hat, he was holding a silk butterfly instead.

“…what?” He leaned over the hat again. It was empty save the stamp. He tried again and came back with a Steel Samurai trading card.

“You’re no good at this either, Polly!” Trucy exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. She pulled her hat back. “I suppose I’ll have to resort to magic then, or Vera won’t be happy when she wakes up.” She produced a wand from her cape, then tapped the hat once, twice, three times.

Nothing seemed to happen, and for a second, Trucy’s performer’s smile faded. “The hospital banned me from using smoke,” she grumbled to Apollo. “But! Allakazam!”

She turned the hat upside down, but nothing fell out. When she held it out to Apollo, it was empty.

“Where…?”

Trucy pouted at him, the expression exaggerated again. “Polly, that’s cheating!”

“What? What?”

She tapped the pocket of his jacket with her wand. “Did you have it the whole time?”

Apollo reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny frame. “How…?”

“Nope! Don’t ask!” Trucy cried gleefully. “How was that?”

“It was great,” Apollo said sincerely. The smile on his face was genuine, and he already felt better.

“Good,” Trucy said, falling back into her chair. “I can’t wait to show Vera more tricks.”

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” Apollo told her. He turned the stamp over in his hands, then stood to replace it on Vera’s bedside table.

“They’re pretty rare,” Trucy said suddenly, and Apollo turned to her. “I wonder where she got it, since she didn’t go out much.”

“The stamps? They’re rare?” Apollo asked.

“Yeah,” Trucy said. “They only sold them for one day, and they were in limited supply…I was surprised that you said you had seen one, actually.”

“Oh,” Apollo said. “Yeah…my boss had one.”

Unexpectedly, Trucy laughed, although Apollo thought he heard some sadness behind it. “Oh, duh. I gave that to him. I saw him at the detention center, so I gave it to him as a thank you for representing Daddy.” She sighed. “Maybe I should have just kept it…”

Apollo considered the stamp again.

“By the way,” he said. “Who’s that woman in the middle? I know Zak and Valant, but…”

The stamp was small, so it was a difficult for Apollo to see the details, but the woman seemed familiar somehow.

He pondered this for a moment, then realized Trucy hadn’t answered him. Her eyes were downcast, and she clutched the brooch on her chest.

“Um…Trucy?”

Trucy took a deep breath. “That’s my mother. Thalassa Gramarye.”

“Your…mother?”

Trucy must have heard the question in his voice, because she elaborated. “Daddy was a Gramarye by marriage. My mom is Magnifi’s daughter.”

“Oh.” Apollo fell quiet. He already knew that Trucy had no living family members—he didn’t exactly need to ask where Thalassa Gramarye was now. And he was kicking himself, for bringing something like that up now, when Trucy’s new family was in so much peril. “I’m sorry, Trucy.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I was really little, y’know? There was an accident. Daddy never really gave me all the details.”

Apollo sucked in a breath. Ever since meeting her on the day of Zak’s disappearance, he had felt a sort of connection to Trucy—her circumstances reminded him of his own past, and he couldn’t help but empathize. But to find out that she not only had a parent who had left her, but also a deceased one—who died in mysterious circumstances, no less—was almost too much. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes.

“But I’m okay. Besides, I have Phoen—” Trucy looked up, and her eyes widened. “Polly?! Are you okay?”

He hadn’t really noticed when the tears started leaking from his eyes. When Trucy looked at him, he sniffed loudly and tried to hide them, but it was too late.

“Yeah, s-sorry, Trucy, I…” He took a deep breath and made a valiant effort to compose himself, steadying himself on the bedside table. “It’s just…I’m the same. I mean, my parents…”

Trucy’s mouth fell open slightly. “Oh, no, Polly…”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s…I’m fine. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for me.”

“No, no, don’t say that,” she rushed to say. “I’m…I mean…that’s…”

Trucy’s eye were damp now, too. She struggled with words for a moment, then just stood up, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Apollo, burying her face in his chest.

Apollo returned the hug wordlessly.

“I thought we were supposed to be cheering each other up,” he said shakily, after a moment.

“You did cheer me up,” Trucy said, stepping back. “It’s hard, you know? Because not that many people understand, but now I know you.”

That did help—it was the basis of his and Clay’s entire friendship, after all.

“I’m glad,” he said. He glanced back down at the stamp, at those familiar eyes. “Do you happen to have any other pictures of—” He broke off, glancing to Vera. “Wait, did she just move?”

Trucy leapt to the side of the bed. “I saw it, too.”

In truth, Apollo’s bracelet had reacted, drawing his eyes to the barest twitch of Vera’s eyelids. He had no idea how Trucy had noticed it.

But he didn’t stop to wonder about that now. He rushed to join Trucy.

Then it happened again, but more obvious this time. Vera’s eyelids fluttered. And then…her fingers twitched.

“Oh my god,” Trucy gasped. “We need to call the doctors, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Apollo said distantly, but his eyes were fixed on Vera.

It almost seemed to happen too quickly. Her eyes cracked open, then widened as she noticed Apollo and Trucy standing over her. She raised one hand feebly.

“Hi, Vera,” Trucy said slowly. “Um, just stay calm, okay? The doctors are on their way—”

Vera’s lips moved. She spoke a word, too quiet for them to hear.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Apollo soothed. In truth, he had no idea what to do until the doctors arrived.

Vera’s eyes flashed. “Sk…sketch,” she rasped, more clearly this time.

“Sketch?” Apollo echoed.

“Does she mean her sketchbook?” Trucy looked around the room, until she spotted it resting on one of the bedside tables. “Here, Vera. But don’t try to exert yourself…”

Vera ignored her. Weakly, she extracted a pencil from the spiral binding, and Trucy helped her flip to a blank page.

Her hand moved across the paper with surprising ease. In seconds, a strange face had taken shape. It was somewhat gruesome, with hollow eyes and a thin, pinched mouth.

Vera tapped the drawing weakly with her pencil. “Devil,” she murmured, and then her eyes fell closed.

The doctor arrived only a second later. Apollo grabbed the sketchbook and got out of their way, while Trucy explained what had happened. There was a whirlwind of medical activity, but at the center of it, Vera looked very still. If not for the beeping heart rate monitor, Apollo might have thought she had finally succumbed.

After a few minutes, the flurry ceased. One of the nurses explained that Vera had only emerged from the coma temporarily, but that this was a good sign. Trucy and Apollo hung on to every word, and it was only after the doctors left that Apollo remembered the sketchbook in his hand.

Devil. The face on the page stared up at him, its eyes like empty voids.

“Was she trying to tell us something?” Trucy asked. Her voice was shaky, and Apollo realized that the last few minutes must have scared her.

“I don’t know,” Apollo admitted, but he was reluctant to just dismiss the drawing outright. Carefully, he tore it from the sketchbook. “Maybe we should show this to someone.”

Trucy nodded, then took out her phone and snapped a picture. “I’ll send it to Miles.”

“Good idea.” Apollo forced himself to take a deep breath. He absently folded the drawing and placed it in his pocket. “I should…”

“You should tell Klavier about Vera,” Trucy interrupted, and it was like she plucked the words out of his thoughts. “He’s been really worried, hasn’t he? When he was here with us he seemed really upset.”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. They said this is good news, right?”

He said it almost to convince himself. It was good news, if it meant that Vera really was working her way out of the coma. But that drawing—something about it was nagging him. Maybe it was just because those unsettling, empty eyes, but he couldn’t shrug off a queasy sense of unease.

But Klavier would want to know. Apollo wouldn’t deny him this just because of how they had left things that morning.

The elevator was crowded, so Apollo opted to take the stairs instead. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost collided with someone rounding the landing.

For a second, he almost thought it was Klavier coming up the stairs, until he registered the glasses.

“Mr. Gavin?”

Kristoph stopped in his tracks. “Justice. What are you doing here?”

I could ask you the same thing, Apollo thought. “Just visiting Vera.”

“Ah, I was about to do the same. I fear I have neglected doing so, after what happened with her father.”

“She…probably doesn’t mind,” Apollo pointed out, but his reply was somewhat automatic. Around his wrist, his bracelet was slowly tightening.

“Hm.” Kristoph nodded something like a farewell. “Well. Good day, Justice.”

Apollo blinked—he had wanted to ask Kristoph if he had met with Phoenix yet, but Kristoph was already stepping around him to continue up the stairs.

“Uh, yeah. You, too.” Apollo stepped aside to let Kristoph by, but glanced after him as he did so.

For a second, everything seemed to freeze. Kristoph raised one hand to his face to adjust his glasses, but the movement was comically slow. And as he pressed a finger against the bridge of his glasses, the tendons on the back of his hand tensed. There was a scar there that Apollo had never noticed before, a thick white line that looked like it had once needed stitches. Above it, the muscles of Kristoph’s hand seemed to form two peculiar indentations, much like vacant eye sockets.

The moment passed. Kristoph fixed his glasses and turned to continue up the stairs. He didn’t notice Apollo behind him on the landing, staring after him with eyes wide and heart pounding.

Devil.

Vera’s drawing had been an exact replica of the back of Kristoph’s right hand.

But when did Vera ever meet Kristoph? Apollo’s thoughts were racing. What do they even have in common?

The stamp.

The colorful square of paper popped into his mind, thanks to his and Trucy’s recent conversation. Where had Vera gotten such a rare item? And where had Kristoph’s gone…

But why?

I have deposited $100,000 in the designated account…the enclosed stamp...

Apollo nearly staggered as the pieces fell together in his head.

If Vera’s and Kristoph’s stamp are one and the same, then…

If Vera wasn’t poisoned by her father, Kristoph had intended to argue that a client of Misham’s criminal business was to blame. He was saved the trouble by Misham’s death, but that didn’t mean he was wrong—the easiest lie to tell is one that is only a step removed from the truth.

But why would Kristoph want a forgery?

Apollo was pacing on the landing now. He had seen that stamp months ago, when he was in Kristoph’s office leaving a note because his boss was busy with the Gramarye trial—

The Gramarye trial, which had almost been resolved when the defense presented a critical piece of evidence, but which had actually concluded with a vanishing magician and a cryptic note—

Tricks are best left to the magicians.

Zak Gramarye was found dead in a restaurant basement. Zak Gramarye, the only person in the world who knew for certain what Magnifi Gramarye had or had not written the night of his death…

Paintings aren’t the only things that can be forged.

Apollo stopped pacing.

It wasn’t evidence, not even close. But there was a very real possibility that Kristoph Gavin had commissioned forged evidence from Vera Misham, and then tried to kill her for the trouble.

But Vera hadn’t died, and Kristoph was on his way to see her right now.

Apollo climbed the stairs two at a time, nearly collided with a nurse in the hallway, and burst into Vera’s room, breathing hard.

“Apollo!” Trucy looked up, surprised. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I…was.” Apollo looked around the room. Trucy and Vera were alone. “I, uh…thought I forgot my phone. But it’s right here!”

He laughed weakly and patted his pocket. Trucy didn’t look fooled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Trucy tilted her head, her lips forming a concerned pout.

“I…yeah. Um…was Kristoph here?”

“Mr. Gavin?” Trucy shook her head. “No. No one’s been here since you left.”

“Right. Okay. Sorry.” Apollo took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. “Alright. I should go.”

Just as he was about to turn to leave, his eyes caught on the frame by the bed.

“Actually,” he said slowly. “Do you think it’s okay if I…borrow this? Just for a little while?”

Trucy shrugged. “You brought it here, didn’t you?”

“Well…yeah. Okay. I’ll make sure to give it back.”

Trucy nodded, but she still looked worried. Apollo bid her a hasty goodbye and left the hospital as quickly as he could.

Maybe he was overreacting. But…he recalled the drawing in his pocket. He knew what he had seen. Vera had met Kristoph before. There was no other explanation for how she could have copied that peculiar tic so exactly.

Vera and Kristoph had met. Vera’s father (and perhaps Vera herself) were expert forgers. Vera was in possession of a rare stamp that Kristoph also had, and one of Misham’s clients had sent him a stamp to use as return postage.

Not only that…how many times, now, had Apollo’s bracelet reacted to something seemingly innocuous that Kristoph had said? Mentioning stamps, mentioning Drew Misham’s defense…it wasn’t clear then what Kristoph could have possibly been hiding, but now…

Waiting at the bus stop, Apollo was almost tempted to just start jogging back towards campus, he was that impatient. When the bus finally appeared, Apollo spent the entire ride anxiously bouncing his legs, clutching the framed stamp in his pocket as if worried it might disappear. He took out his phone and started typing a message one-handed.

            Apollo [2:24 PM]: hey ema i need a favor

            Ema [2:25 PM]: is it something the fop is putting you up to

            Apollo [2:25 PM]: no it’s a forensics thing

            Ema [2:25 PM]: well why didn’t you say so? i’m at your dorm right now actually, clay and I are studying downstairs

            Apollo [2:26 PM]: ok great i’ll be there in ten

Apollo practically ran to the study room on the first floor, throwing the door open and only considering in retrospect that Clay and Ema might not be the only two people there. He was lucky, though—the two of them were alone, with their notes spread out over one of the large tables.

“Apollo?” Clay asked, looking up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Ema?”

She rubbed her hands together gleefully. “So you need forensic science, huh? More mock trial stuff?”

“No, actually.” Apollo took the small frame from his pocket and was inordinately relieved to find the stamp still inside—after Trucy’s magic trick, he had half-expected it to have turned into a coin or a marble. “This is sort of…real.”

“Real?” she echoed. “Like, there’s a crime involved?”

“Uh, sorta. Maybe.” He put the frame down on the table. “I need to know if there are any fingerprints on that. Not the frame, but the stamp inside.”

“Ooooh, fingerprint analysis.” Apollo expected Ema to tell him to wait while she left to retrieve supplies, but instead she just reached into her backpack and pulled out a jar of white powder and a brush. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, then picked up the frame. “Just the stamp inside?” she asked, and Apollo nodded his confirmation. “Anyone you need to compare it to?”

“Me.”

Clay and Ema both looked up.

“Uh, Pollo? Anything you want to tell us?” Clay asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When she’s done,” Apollo promised. “It’s probably nothing, I just…I need to see.”

Apollo knew that on some level, he was being unreasonable. It had been months since he touched the stamp that afternoon in Kristoph’s office. If he had even left a clear print to begin with, it would likely be long gone.

And even if Ema did find something, the evidence would hardly be admissible. But that was getting ahead of himself.

“Okay, well, I should take your prints first, then.” The polished surface of the table worked well enough for their purposes—Apollo left his fingerprints, and Ema dusted her powder over them, then snapped pictures with her phone. “It’s an app,” she explained. “Cool, right?”

Apollo nodded distractedly. He held his breath as Ema removed the glass from the frame and extracted the stamp. He and Clay watched as she performed the same dusting. The stamp seemed to have a number of partial prints. Ema frowned.

“Here goes,” she said, collecting the pictures. She tapped a few buttons, then waited as the app processed the images. Apollo felt like his heart was beating in his throat.

“No match on the big one in the middle,” Ema said. She waited a few more seconds. “No match for this partial on the left…” Her phone beeped suddenly, and the three of them jumped.

“What is it?” Clay asked urgently, caught up in the tension of the moment even though he didn’t know what was happening.

“Well…” Ema’s brow was creased. “Partial prints are tricky. You need a certain number of features to match for it to be considered a positive match in court, so obviously with a partial, you aren’t going to get as many no matter what.”

“And?” Apollo prompted.

“And this one on the bottom here is just two features shy of being a match for your thumb, Apollo,” Ema finished.

Apollo let out his breath in a rush. “What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “It’s useless in court, if that’s where you were going with this. But the odds…I don’t know, is it likely that you touched this at some point?”

Apollo could barely hear her. Was it likely? Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. After all, the evidence was inconclusive—

Then he thought back to his bracelet’s reactions to Kristoph, to Vera’s sketch, to Zak Gramarye dying and Drew Misham dying…his mind reeled.

Clay and Ema were waiting on his answer, expectant and more than a little concerned. Apollo shook himself.

“It’s…it’s possible. I…don’t know. It could just be a mistake, but…”

Ema’s eyes glinted. “Any more analyses you want to do? I have Luminol…”

“Oh, how about this!” Clay pulled a small spray bottle from his backpack. “The fruits of our labor in lab last week!”

“You had that?” Ema burst out.

“I meant to give it to you, I just kept forgetting,” Clay said, holding it out of her reach. “But the TA said the mass spec checks out, so it should work.”

Ema scoffed. “Not like this will help us find out. The chances—”

“I want to try!” Clay protested.

Ema scowled. “That stuff is precious! I need it for my kit, come on—”

“What is it?” Apollo tried to ask, but his question was lost in Clay and Ema’s squabbling.

“Just once, come on—”

“Clay—”

Pshht!

“Oops!” Clay said, grinning. The spray bottle was pointed at the empty frame.

“Seriously?” Ema snatched the bottle from his hands. “What a waste of—”

Ema broke off. She was staring at the frame, her eyes wide.

Where the stamp had been stuck, a faint blue stain was appearing. When Clay noticed it, he went white as a sheet.

“What is that stuff?” Apollo finally managed to ask in the silence. Ema found her voice first.

“It’s atroquinine detection solution,” she said. “And it’s testing positive.”

Once everyone calmed down, it took Apollo nearly twenty minutes to explain the story behind the framed stamp to Clay and Ema. He actually appreciated the opportunity—his thoughts had been churning in overdrive since he saw Kristoph at the hospital, and outlining his suspicions aloud helped him work through them in his own mind, too.

“So…” Clay said slowly. “You think your boss, the ice lawyer or whatever—”

“Coolest Defense in the West,” Apollo corrected automatically.

“Yeah, okay, him…you think he killed two people?”

Apollo bit his lip. “At least one person,” he said.

“Drew Misham, the forger,” Ema stated, and Apollo nodded.

“It’s a little too much to ignore,” he said. “Someone commissioned a forgery from the Mishams—we know that much for sure, because there was that envelope at the crime scene. The envelope said it included return postage. Then we have this stamp—found at Drew Studio. It’s poisoned with atroquinine—probably a trap for Misham, but since Vera likes the Gramaryes so much, he let her keep it, and used a different one. So whoever wanted him dead is probably getting worried.

“Then the Mishams go to Trucy’s show. Vera is poisoned—someone gave her nail polish laced with atroquinine, so that must have been a trap, too. Drew is accused, and who shows up to take his defense?”

“Kristoph Gavin,” Ema said.

“Right. And I even remember thinking it was weird at the time—Mr. Wright knew about Misham right away, and he was on his way to the detention center that evening. But Kristoph beat him to it.”

“Suspicious,” Clay agreed.

“And then Misham dies. Suicide by atroquinine, supposedly, after writing a note confessing to Vera’s poisoning. Even if we ignore Kristoph for the moment, we know that the forger is very happy with this scenario—they’ve avoided a trial, and the police aren’t looking for any new suspects. That just leaves Vera, in the hospital in a coma.”

Apollo took a deep breath. “Now we look at Kristoph—thanks to Vera herself. She woke up for just a minute to give Trucy and me a message: this drawing.” Apollo tapped the sketch, which he had placed on the table earlier. “Then I run into Kristoph on the stairs—he’s acting weird, and then I see this same marking on his hand. That’s one connection between Vera and Kristoph.

“Then there’s the stamp.” Apollo turned his attention to the frame, still bright with blue residue, and the stamp covered in fingerprint powder. “I saw—and touched—a stamp like that in Kristoph’s office. The forger who commissioned Vera sent her a stamp. Vera had a Gramarye stamp on her desk—poisoned with atroquinine and with my fingerprint—maybe—on it. That’s another connection between Vera and Kristoph.”

Clay and Ema nodded along.

“And then one more thing. The big one that ties everything together.” Apollo paused. “Zak Gramarye’s trial, where Kristoph almost got Gramarye acquitted based on a piece of evidence that the prosecution was convinced shouldn’t exist.”

“Forged evidence,” Ema said. “Commissioned from the Mishams.”

“Right. Which means that in addition to Vera, there’s one other person who knows Kristoph’s secret—Zak Gramarye, his former client, who vanished without a trace after his trial and was found dead in the basement of a restaurant last night.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Clay asked. “Go to the police?”

Apollo paused. What did he have, really? A drawing and a stamp. Sure, a stamp covered in atroquinine would interest the police, but it was connected to Kristoph only through a partial print and Apollo’s unverifiable testimony. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t evidence.

He shook his head. “No,” he said slowly. “I’m going to talk to Phoenix Wright.”

~~~

By the time Apollo made it downtown again, he was cutting very close to the end of visiting hours at the detention center.

When he arrived, the officer on duty informed him that Phoenix was currently meeting with someone else, but if he finished in time, Apollo would be able to see him.

Hearing this, a chill settled in Apollo’s gut. If Phoenix was meeting Kristoph…

But when someone finally emerged from the visiting room, it wasn’t his boss, but a strange, poorly shaved man, bald save for a tuft of hair at the top of his scalp. As he walked, he was scribbling something on his arm—which was already dark with ink—but he looked up when he almost walked into Apollo.

“Oh!” the man exclaimed. “You’re Justice, aren’t you?”

Apollo shrank back as he was assaulted by a strong waft of mint. “Uh, yes? Who are you?”

“Brushel. Spark Brushel. But if you’re here to see Wright, you’d better hurry. ‘Detention Center Keeps Strict Visiting Hours,’ end quote.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks.”

Brushel let him pass, and Apollo hurried to the visiting room.

Phoenix was talking to the guard when Apollo entered.

“Another visitor? Is it…oh! Apollo, hello.” Phoenix gave him a cheery smile, rather at odds with his surroundings. “Have a seat.”

Apollo did so. “Hi, Mr. Wright.”

How was he even supposed to start this conversation? Mr. Wright, I think your defense attorney and my boss is a murderer?

But Phoenix’s expression had turned serious. He laced his fingers together and looked at Apollo.

“You’ve figured it out, right, Apollo?”

Apollo blinked, surprised. “I…” He swallowed. “You…know?”

“Miles and I have been working on this for a few months now, ever since the Gramarye trial,” Phoenix said. “I just wish we could have done something before…” He took a deep breath. “Vera’s poisoning caught us off guard. And Drew…” A shadow passed over his brow.

Apollo was still catching up. “Wait, Mr. Wright. So you…?”

Suddenly, Edgeworth’s pointed questions after Misham’s death made much more sense. Not to mention stay sharp.

Phoenix nodded. “It all starts with the impossible diary page, right? Last night, I was able to confirm with Zak Enigmar—or Gramarye, rather—that evidence presented by his defense could not have existed. We were at least able to discuss that much before he was killed.”

It seemed to Apollo that Phoenix was intentionally avoiding Kristoph’s name. Apollo nodded slowly.

“But I’m surprised,” Phoenix said, looking at him. “What clued you in?”

Apollo took a deep breath. “It was this, first.” He took out Vera’s drawing and turned it so Phoenix could see. “Vera woke up from her coma for just a few minutes to draw this.”

Phoenix frowned. “I’m not totally sure what I’m looking at here.”

“You might not believe me,” Apollo said, “but this afternoon, at the hospital…I noticed a mark that looked just like this on…his hand.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened, then he let out a short laugh. “You noticed it, did you? Brushel wasn’t kidding.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” He frowned at the drawing. “Hmm…”

“And then there’s this.” Apollo took two plastic bags out of his backpack, one holding the blue-stained frame, and the other holding the stamp, along with the lifted prints preserved in tape. “It’s Vera’s.”

“Ah, the Gramarye stamp Trucy was so excited about,” Phoenix said. “Whose prints are those?”

“One of them might be mine.”

Phoenix frowned, but a moment later, he seemed to understand. “Of course…” he murmured. “You saw it at work.”

Apollo nodded. “Right around the time of the Gramarye trial.”

Phoenix turned his attention to the frame. “And this?”

“That’s where the stamp was kept. The residue is from atroquinine detection solution.”

Phoenix sucked in a breath. “Is that so?” He looked up at Apollo. “You’ve been careful with that, right? It’s very potent—”

Apollo nodded. Ema had approved the use of her precious testing fluid to ensure that Apollo’s hands were clean.

“It’s not evidence,” Apollo said slowly. “Not really.”

Phoenix shook his head. “You’re right. But we might not need evidence.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow’s trial is going to be a little different,” Phoenix told him. “Something else Miles and I have been working on—even before all of this, actually.” He paused. “You’ve heard of the Jurist System, right?”

“We’ve talked about it in class…” Apollo said. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“We’re testing it out. Tomorrow.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “With your trial?”

“It seemed best. If anything goes wrong, it would be my responsibility, after all.”

“Yeah, but—!” Apollo thought of Trucy, losing family members more quickly than anyone should have to.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Phoenix said. “After all, I trust my defense.”

“You…do?” Apollo suddenly wondered if he and Phoenix had in fact been on entirely different pages this whole time.

Phoenix tilted his head. “Well, not to defend me, exactly—pretty sure he’s already tried to poison me twice, but fortunately he’s not the only one with friends here. But to incriminate himself? I think I can make that happen. That’s why I hired him, after all. I needed him to be on hand.”

“But…but…”

Phoenix sighed. “It’s a dangerous game, I know.”

“Not just for you!” Apollo burst out. “Vera, and Trucy—”

“And you,” Phoenix added. “Don’t forget that.”

Apollo inhaled sharply.

“And you’re right,” Phoenix went on. “But I know who I’m dealing with. You ran into him at the hospital today, right?”

Apollo nodded.

“Incidentally, I’m told there was no one by his name in the visitor records—he signed in under an alias. But between running into you and being stopped for a chat by the guards posted around Vera’s room…he never went to see her. Those officers were watching Trucy, too, until Miles could pick her up. As for you…I’m trusting you to take care of yourself.” Phoenix paused. “Be careful around Klavier.”

 Apollo froze. “…what?”

“We already know that our quarry will go to great lengths to protect his secret,” Phoenix said. “Poisoned nail polish, poisoned stamps…it’s not crazy to think Klavier could unwittingly play a part in a trap like that, especially since you’re a potential target.”

“But…”

Phoenix smiled sympathetically. “I’m not saying it will happen. Just be on your guard. Both of you.”

Apollo could only stare at him. His heart was pounding.

The guard on Phoenix’s side of the glass said something, and Phoenix’s expression turned serious again.

“Visiting hours are just about over,” he said. He looked down at the items Apollo had brought with him. “Would you mind handing those things to the guard for me? Miles can take them to the police when he comes by later.”

“Sure,” Apollo said faintly. He was still thinking about what Phoenix had said about Klavier. It was true—he wouldn’t put it past Kristoph to try to use Klavier that way. But more importantly…

Klavier doesn’t know about any of this.

“Don’t worry, Apollo,” Phoenix said. “The truth will come out in the end. I’ll make sure of it.”

Apollo nodded, and absently wished Phoenix good luck as the guard took him back to his cell. He wandered out of the detention center in daze.

He trusted Phoenix—the truth would come out, one way or another. But that truth…what would it do to Klavier?

The bus got caught in traffic and the trip back to campus took nearly twice as long as usual, but Apollo barely noticed, his thoughts swirling with everything he had learned that day. Walking back to his dorm on autopilot, it took him longer than it might have otherwise to notice that, despite the darkening skies, the quad wasn’t empty when he returned. Nor was it silent.

“I almost thought Herr Forehead was ignoring me,” Klavier joked, idly strumming his guitar.

The sentence made Apollo’s bracelet squeeze. Klavier sounded like he was kidding, but no doubt he really had been worried that Apollo was avoiding him, thanks to how they had parted ways that morning.

Was that really just this morning? Apollo could barely muster the energy to be upset about it now. In light of the fact that his crush’s brother might be a murderer, it hardly mattered that said crush was also maybe sleeping with his fellow band member, right?

But Apollo’s heart still twisted at the thought, so maybe it did still matter. Some priorities he had.

“Sorry.” Apollo scratched his head. He couldn’t tell Klavier about Kristoph, not now, so he was thankful for the dim light, for giving him a little longer to arrange his features before approaching the musician perched on the picnic table. “A little late to be practicing, don’t you think?”

“Ja, perhaps.” Klavier stood and slung his guitar over his shoulder. “Come with me?”

Apollo frowned. “Where?”

“A better concert venue.”

“Why?”

Klavier fiddled with his bangs. “Because I finished my song, and I believe I promised that you would be the first to hear it.”

“Oh. Now?” Don’t you have another guitarist you should be practicing with?

“Unless you’re too terribly busy, Forehead,” Klavier said.

Busy? Not exactly. Honestly, he was tired. He felt like the afternoon had lasted a lifetime.

But regardless, he shook his head. “Lead the way.”

They were quiet as they walked. Klavier seemed preoccupied, but Apollo was too distracted by his own thoughts to even wonder why. There was no benefit to telling Klavier about his and Phoenix’s suspicions, he told himself. Besides, what would he even say? Oh, by the way, Klavier, you know that girl who’s in a coma, who you’ve been worrying about for weeks? Turns out your brother might have poisoned her to keep her quiet after he paid her to forge evidence! Who’d’ve thought, right?

As that thought crossed his mind, Apollo inhaled sharply. Klavier felt guilty about bumping into Vera and triggering her nervous habit of biting her nails. But now, Apollo realized it was worse than that. Klavier had made Vera nervous, all right—but only because he looked so similar to the other Gavin, the one she called devil.

No, he really couldn’t tell Klavier any of that.

Klavier brought him to a quiet grove tucked between some of the older academic buildings, which were dark and silent at this time of night. A few benches were arranged in a small courtyard there, screened from the sidewalk by neatly trimmed hedge. Klavier sat on one of these benches, and Apollo joined him.

With no further introduction, Klavier settled his guitar in his lap and started to play.

Apollo remembered something of Klavier’s song from the last time he had heard it, but it had changed a little since then. The warmth of the tune still reminded him of Jangly Jove, but a few dancing arpeggios brought Lamiroir to mind, too.

Then Klavier started to sing, gently but in a way such that his words still carried on the night air. At first, Apollo thought to himself that the lyrics were evidence of the Gavinners’ influence—Klavier started off with something of a legal metaphor. But then Apollo considered—belatedly—the alternative and more personal meaning of the word “justice,” and caught more than one reference to the light of the sun, and something about a muse and having no defense and…oh.

The sound of the guitar faded out with the breeze, and the two of them were silent.

“You know,” Apollo said finally, not quite meeting Klavier’s eyes, “I think your obsession with the law is getting out of hand.”

 Klavier, who had tensed up when Apollo started to speak, now relaxed with an exasperated sigh. “Apollo…”

“No, I know,” Apollo assured him. “I…um…”

Now that he was out of snark, he wasn’t really sure what to say. He had had a roller coaster of a day—there was a part of him that kind of wanted to start crying, and another part that wanted to say something very, very bitter.

But Klavier looked…well, terrified, honestly. Like he knew exactly what Apollo was thinking—minus the parts featuring his brother—and he expected anything from another lukewarm rejection to outright insults.

But as Apollo let the silence stretch longer, Klavier seemed to gather his courage.

“Apollo,” he said slowly, his voice more tentative than Apollo had ever heard it, “would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

And suddenly, it all just seemed so ridiculous. Everything that had been piling up in Apollo’s thoughts all day—Daryan Vera Kristoph Phoenix Trucy Kristoph—seemed absurdly, monumentally unimportant. The only thing that mattered in the world was the man sitting next to him, cradling his guitar like a shield and waiting for Apollo’s response.

Apollo shook himself slightly and let out a breath. “Of course,” he said finally, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course I will, Klavier.”

He was glad he looked up to catch Klavier’s reaction, because he was pretty sure it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It started as a light sparking in Klavier’s blue eyes, then grew to overtake his entire expression, until he was positively radiant with it.

Then Klavier let out a short laugh. “You say that as though it should have been obvious.”

Ouch. But, fair. “Not all of us know how to flirt like it’s second nature,” Apollo grumbled.

“Ah ha ha, don’t be fooled. It takes a great deal of effort to be this charming.” Klavier grinned and set his guitar aside. “Doubly so when Herr Forehead seems to resist being charmed.”

Apollo ducked his head. “With that song you can consider me thoroughly charmed.”

“I’m glad you liked it," Klavier said, and his smile had a touch of relief in it. "...heavy-handed metaphors and all.”

Apollo snorted. “So you admit it!”

“Schatzi, this is my brand.” Klavier flipped his bangs with a toss of his head.

“Sure, sure.” Apollo chuckled. God, it felt good to be able to laugh with Klavier again; in the past week, he hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed it. The sight of Klavier’s smile, his genuine smile, seemed to unlock something in Apollo’s heart, a bright, electric sensation that overflowed through his veins to the tips of his fingers.

Boyfriend, he thought, looking at Klavier and turning the word over in his head. It seemed so natural—what took us so long?

He realized suddenly that two of them were sort of just staring at each other with goofy grins on their faces, and that they probably would stay that way indefinitely if no action was taken, so, with effort, he managed to snag a train of thought that had occurred to him partway through Klavier’s song.

“So…how long have you been working on that song, exactly?”

He had realized somewhere in the second verse, why the tune had sounded so familiar not just this time, but the first time Klavier had played it, too—Apollo had been hearing it outside his window, mixed in with Gavinners songs, since September.

Klavier flushed. “Ah. Ja. Quite a while. It’s…a little embarrassing, maybe.” He looked down and started winding and unwinding the end of his hair around one finger. "It was always meant to be a song for you, though."

Apollo's heart fluttered. Always?  “So all that stuff about wanting to start a club with me because of my dedication to the law or whatever…?” He raised an eyebrow.

Klavier shook his head vigorously. “Nein! All of that was true. And I love our club.”

“I know. Me, too.” Apollo paused. He’s really liked me that long?  “Man, I almost feel bad now.”

“Hm?”

Grimacing, Apollo brought to mind the countless grievances he had held against Klavier at the beginning of last semester. “Well, I mean…I kind of hated you? Clay was probably sick of how much I complained about you before we actually talked.”

Klavier looked alarmed. “R-really?”

“Yeah…just before the club, though. Obviously I don’t feel that way now.”

Now Klavier had a mischievous glint in his eye. He leaned a little closer. “Nein, Herr Forehead? And I am just supposed to believe these baseless claims, I suppose?”

On any other day, Apollo might have blushed, elbowed him, and laughed it off. But today…

Apollo had no idea what tomorrow would bring. He had spent more time today thinking about Kristoph than he had about the man he had slowly been falling in love with since the beginning of the school year.

Whatever happened in tomorrow’s trial, they would have to face it. But they didn’t have to face it right now.

So Apollo turned his head and met Klavier’s eyes.

“Baseless claims, huh?” he repeated.

They were already sitting close, but Apollo leaned closer, until their faces were only inches apart. Klavier’s chin tipped forward hesitantly, not quite enough to close the gap.

Apollo paused, when he was close enough that their breath mingled between them. “What was it again?” he murmured, making a show of thinking hard. “Goodbye in Borginia?”

Klavier rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up,” he sighed, then hooked his hand around the back of Apollo’s neck and pressed their lips together, cutting Apollo off mid-laugh.

Apollo steadied himself with a hand on Klavier’s shoulder and kissed him back, hard.

And for a little while, it was very easy to forget everything else. Nothing existed except the warmth of Klavier’s lips on his, a faint taste of fruity lip balm, and Klavier’s fingers brushing through the hair at the back of Apollo’s neck.

When they finally parted, they did so slowly, their lips just-touching, before Apollo closed the distance with another quick kiss. Klavier’s hand had moved to cup his jaw, and for a moment they just sat with foreheads touching, basking in each other’s closeness.

But when Klavier moved to kiss him again, Apollo hesitated.

“Just…one thing.”

Apollo hated to ask, but the question would keep bothering him if he didn’t. Klavier waited, shifting back slightly so he could meet Apollo’s eyes.

“Um. You and Daryan.” Klavier inhaled sharply. “Is that…over?”

Klavier’s hand went to his neck, then he paused, his eyes falling to Apollo’s bracelet and lighting up with understanding. “Ah. So you did notice.”

“I don’t want to pry, but…”

“Nein, you have every right,” Klavier interrupted. His expression twisted. “It’s over. Last night was…stupid.”

Apollo nodded. “Okay. Um. Good.”

Klavier must have sensed the note of discomfort, or envy, in his voice, because his next words came out in a rush.

“I love you, Apollo. I’ve loved you for so long. But I was…nervous, and Daryan was…there,” he finished simply. Then his brain seemed to catch up with his words, and he stopped, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Ach. That was too—”

“I love you, too,” Apollo interrupted, catching Klavier’s hand before it could stray to the end of his braid. The words felt absolutely right for the moment—Apollo had known how he felt for months now, and there was no point in holding them back. Not when—he irritably pushed thoughts of tomorrow’s trial out of his mind, and gently pressed his lips to Klavier’s knuckles instead. “I love you,” he murmured again.

Klavier’s eyes were wide, doubtful. “Even though…?”

“I really should have kissed you that night after the concert,” Apollo blurted. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t think straight, not after you mentioned the bracelet.”

Klavier looked down. “And I knew that, but I…” He let out a huff of frustration. “As I’ve told you, jumping headfirst into the unknown is not my forte. I tend to return to the familiar.” Klavier paused to smile wryly. “Fortunately, ‘familiar’ told me that he was done playing second guitar, as it were.”

“That’s not the impression I got,” Apollo muttered, remembering Daryan’s self-satisfied smirk.

“Ach.” Klavier grimaced. “I believe that was his way of, ah…giving me a push? I may not have found the courage for this had I spent the night on the couch convincing myself you only saw me as a friend.” He looked up carefully, timid again.

“Oh, well when you put it that way…” Apollo conceded.

“My heart belongs to you, liebling,” Klavier assured him, his expression sincere. The words sent warmth radiating through Apollo’s limbs, but he also couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Who even says stuff like that?” he asked, as Klavier’s brows drew together.

“I do,” Klavier protested, his lips forming the beginnings of an affronted pout. “Don’t pretend you don’t find it endearing.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Apollo muttered, and pulled him closer for another kiss.

This time, Klavier parted his lips, and Apollo didn’t need any more invitation than that to kiss him more deeply. He wound his fingers into Klavier’s hair and was rewarded with a quiet noise of approval as Klavier shifted on the bench, trying to make the angle less awkward. Eventually, he ended up nearly halfway in Apollo’s lap, supporting himself on one arm, but after a minute he sighed and rested his head on Apollo’s shoulder with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah,” Apollo said. “I don’t think these benches are really meant for this.”

Klavier moved so he was just sitting beside Apollo again. “The price I pay for trying to pick somewhere more romantic,” he sighed, looking out at the dark trees. He reached out to pick up his guitar. “Would you like to walk?”

“Sure.”

As they strolled through the dark campus, hands linked, Apollo wondered if there was some way he could get time to freeze. He wished he could just stay here in an eternal springtime twilight, wandering between pools of lamplight with Klavier beside him. Klavier—his boyfriend, Apollo amended, with a thrill—looked absolutely giddy, the smile rarely leaving his face as he swung their clasped hands between them. He was dazzling like this; Apollo found himself committing to memory the sparkle in his eyes, the exact curve of his lips as he smiled, the melody of his laugh. Looking at him was almost enough to banish all of Apollo’s fears.

But the impending crack of the judge’s gavel kept echoing in his thoughts. Apollo tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he remembered, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

He wondered if Klavier noticed how his grip tightened on his hand.

I don’t know how to protect you from this.

“So,” Klavier said, looking at him sideways after a lull in their conversation. His tone was casual, but Apollo got the sense that he had been waiting to bring this up since they began their meander through campus. “You really hated me?”

Apollo sighed—he should have known. “I didn’t hate you, I just…”

“…found me insufferable?” Klavier guessed.

Grimacing, Apollo looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Something like that. But it wasn’t just that,” he admitted. “I was kinda envious, too.”

“Envious?” Klavier blinked at him, looking completely baffled.

“Yeah, I mean, you made Dent’s class look effortless.” Apollo frowned, remembering the resentments he had nursed those first couple months of the semester. “And every time I answered a question, you would always add something that sounded way smarter.”

Klavier’s eyes were wide. “B-but…we were having a discussion!”

“Maybe you were,” Apollo returned. He glanced at Klavier, who still appeared to be mildly devastated, and smiled gently. “Klavier, it’s fine. That was forever ago.”

“I just wanted to impress you,” he mumbled, his tone apologetic.

“And you did such a good job that I thought you were my rival. Congratulations.” Klavier still looked morose, so Apollo released his hand and caught him around the waist instead, turning so they were face-to-face. He looked up and met Klavier’s eyes.

“Klavier. It was stupid.” He paused, then his lips quirked up in a small smile. “Once we started hanging out, I realized you were much more useful to me as a study partner.”

Klavier gave an affronted gasp, and Apollo narrowly dodged a flick to his forehead as he laughed.

“No, seriously, though,” he said. He looked down. Speaking his heart had never been easy for him—years of unsteady family situations and having only one close friend had taught him to hold his feelings close. But Klavier deserved better than that, especially now. “It seems crazy to me, now that I know you. You’re…” He lifted his gaze, met Klavier’s eyes—and immediately forgot what he had meant to say, if he had had any plan at all. He bit his lip. “Um. Way better at this kind of stuff than me, apparently.” How did Klavier always know what to say? “Erm…”

He rested his head against Klavier’s shoulder, suddenly embarrassed, and Klavier chuckled and wrapped him in his arms.

“It’s okay, schatzi, I just needed to know that I didn’t have any lingering offenses,” he said.

Apollo’s ensuing laugh was muffled in Klavier’s shirt. “See, that’s the thing,” he said, looking up. “You still do all the stuff that used to piss me off.”

Klavier’s smile vanished and he drew back slightly. “…what?”

“I mean, you were playing guitar in the quad less than an hour ago,” Apollo pointed out. “But I guess…I dunno, I used to think you just wanted attention or whatever. But you’re…you’re so sincere about all of it? You put so much of yourself into everything you do, and it’s impossible to hate you for that, so I just…fell in love with you, instead,” Apollo finished uncertainly, then frowned. “That might have sounded stupid,” he mumbled, ducking his head again.

For what seemed like a very long time, Klavier was quiet. Then Apollo heard his voice close to his ear.

“Apollo, liebling,” he murmured. “Please stop trying to hide behind my necklace. It makes it very difficult to kiss you.”

Apollo raised his head slowly, which gave Klavier the opportunity to press a kiss to his forehead, instead. When Apollo finally looked at him, he was grinning.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for ages,” he said, with a childish gleam in his eye.

“You’re…” Apollo began, shaking his head, “…such a dork,” he said finally, with an air of surprised realization.

“Ach, the secret is out,” Klavier sighed, pantomiming a dramatic swoon in Apollo’s arms. “Can’t get anything past you, Forehead.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, but when Klavier straightened, he didn’t miss the chance to slot their lips together again.

“So, you’re still gonna call me that?” Apollo asked when they parted.

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “Is that not one of the things you once hated about me but now find unbearably endearing…?”

Apollo pursed his lips, but he couldn’t exactly argue that the nickname hadn’t grown on him. Klavier noticed the smile that he was trying to conceal, and his own grin widened.

“I do have one correction for you, though,” Klavier said when they were walking again. He brushed a hand through his bangs and looked at Apollo sideways.

"What?"

“I absolutely do want attention.”

Apollo laughed. “Okay, fair enough. You definitely have mine.”

Klavier hummed happily, and at the next fork in the path, he pulled Apollo down the sidewalk that would lead them most circuitously back to Apollo’s dorm.

But they couldn’t walk forever. Eventually, they had wandered down nearly every path that Ivy had to offer, and they arrived back in front of the dorms, coming to a slow, reluctant stop near the door.

“Would you like to come over?” Klavier spoke carefully, meeting Apollo’s eyes from under his bangs.

Apollo bit his lip. “I…I can’t.” His exhaustion was really starting to catch up with him, and he needed to be at the courthouse early tomorrow. “I would just fall asleep again.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Klavier pointed out.

Apollo briefly entertained the thought of waking up in Klavier’s bed, not alone this time. No, it certainly wouldn’t, but still…

“Another time,” Apollo said finally, and he was relieved to see that Klavier didn’t look unduly disappointed. “Um. Are you going to the trial tomorrow?”

With everything that had happened since that morning, he hadn’t even had a chance to ask.

Klavier heaved a sigh. “I can’t, unfortunately,” he said. “Can you believe that tomorrow is the only day we were able to book for that recording studio I mentioned? I’m skipping all my morning classes.” He paused. “Don’t tell Kris, ja? He’d kill me.”

Apollo felt ice trickle down his spine. Don’t even joke about that, oh god.

“Y-yeah,” he managed to say. “Well, good luck then!”

He was counting on Klavier being too distracted to notice how forced his voice sounded.

“Danke, schatzi. Keep me updated, ja?”

Apollo nodded. He started to loosen his grip on Klavier’s hand, but Klavier took it and lifted it to his lips, instead.

“Gute Nacht, Apollo. Sleep well.”

As Klavier strolled down the sidewalk towards the edge of campus, Apollo watched him go, holding one hand in the other as if he could somehow preserve the heat of Klavier’s lips on his skin. But entropy was unsympathetic—as Klavier vanished into the night, the warmth that had flooded Apollo’s veins started to fade, replaced by a cold, creeping dread.

For the first time in his life, Apollo found himself fervently hoping that Phoenix Wright was wrong.

The freshmen of the Ivy Pre-Law Society all had a midterm exam the next morning, so, much to their dismay, they were unable to attend the trial. Apollo rode the bus to the courthouse with Nahyuta, Simon, and Sebastian.

Apollo was making a valiant effort to act normal, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely succeeding. Nahyuta kept casting shrewd looks in his direction, and Apollo didn’t think Simon nor Sebastian was fooled, either.

They found seats in the first row, behind the prosecutor’s bench. As the gallery filled up around them, Apollo listened to the wash of whispers expressing everything from disbelief to outrage over Phoenix Wright’s charges.

“All rise!”

There was a shuffling of feet as the court stood and sat down again, and the judge tapped his gavel. Apollo flinched at the sound.

“Ahem,” the judge began, coughing. He looked rather uncomfortable. “Erm. court is now in session for the trial of…well, it pains me to say it…Phoenix Wright.” He paused to allow a brief surge of chatter from the gallery. “Not only that, erm, today’s trial is unique in that it could potentially change the course of our legal system.” His eyes glanced to the corner of the room. “Today we will test the Jurist System, where the input of six jurists will influence the outcome of this trial.”

As the judge described the Jurist System, Apollo tuned him out. Despite his exhaustion last night, he had had a hard time falling asleep, and had spent nearly an hour reading articles about the Jurist System until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. In any other case, he would have been excited to witness such a piece of history in the making, but today, thinking about the consequences, he just felt sick.

 The judge finished his short speech to the jurists and turned to the prosecutor’s bench. “Is the prosecution ready?”

“Ready, your honor,” said Winston Payne. His smile stretched practically to his ears. “The day is finally here for me to take my revenge on—”

The judge ignored him. “And the defense?”

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

At the defense bench, both Kristoph and Phoenix stood, Phoenix with one hand on his hip, and Kristoph with his hands clasped demurely behind his back. They had spoken the phrase simultaneously. The judge blinked.

“Mr. Wright,” he said. “Although I was surprised to learn you were not planning to defend yourself, you did hire Mr. Gavin, did you not?”

“Ah, sorry, your Honor. Old habits, you know.” Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

Beside him, Kristoph adjusted his glasses, but Apollo didn’t miss the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“And, Mr. Wright…” the judge said. “You are the defendant, but…?”

“I’d like to stay here for the trial, if I may, your Honor,” Phoenix said. “I’m sure Mr. Gavin doesn’t need my co-counsel, but it would feel weird, watching from anywhere else, you know?”

“I suppose I can allow that,” the judge agreed. “Now, Prosecutor Payne, your opening statement, if you please.”

As Payne described the circumstances that lead to Phoenix’s arrest in the basement room of the Borst Bowl Club two days ago, Apollo watched Kristoph. His expression was neutral, but his jaw was tense. Apollo wondered if Phoenix’s plan was simply to annoy Kristoph into some kind of confession.

“The victim was apparently a traveler,” Payne went on. “According to his passport, his name was Shadi Smith.”

Payne went on to describe the murder weapon (a bottle of grape juice bearing the defendant’s fingerprints) and the motive (Phoenix had apparently been losing a game of poker). When the judge expressed that gambling was in itself a crime, Kristoph objected and explained that his client was simply participating in a long-held tradition at the Borst Bowl Club, which allowed customers to play hands of poker entirely for the sake of the game in the restaurant’s historic basement room.

Phoenix’s presence at the crime scene was corroborated by Payne’s witness, the waitress Olga Orly. Orly claimed to have seen the defendant strangling the victim, which prompted a cry of objection from the defense—or rather, from the defendant.

“Mr. Wright…” the judge began.

“Sorry, Your Honor.” Wright scratched his neck. “Take it away, Mr. Gavin.”

Kristoph sighed, then reminded the court that the cause of death had been blunt force trauma, not strangulation, and Orly adjusted her testimony. There was some confusion over a locket that Orly had supposedly seen around Smith’s neck, but which was missing from the crime scene photos. Apollo saw Phoenix’s hand drift to his pocket, from which a thin golden chain flashed, but no one else seemed to notice.

The cross-examination proceeded much in the same fashion. Every so often, Phoenix would object to a statement, and the judge would have to gently remind him that he was the defendant, not the defense. And every time, the irritation simmering in Kristoph’s eyes threatened to boil over.

It was genius, really. Kristoph was caught between his desire to see Phoenix pinned for this crime, and the desire to maintain his perfect win record with such a high-profile case. He was forced to refute some of the prosecution’s more general arguments, or else risk his reputation souring. And when Phoenix made an objection, Kristoph was obligated to follow up with whatever Wright had noticed.

With their combined (if not cooperative) efforts, it wasn’t long before the prosecution’s original claim for Wright’s motive had been easily dismantled. Even the fingerprints on the bottle had been shown to be far from decisive. And then Orly let slip that she had placed a card in Phoenix’s hand, and the defense (although, Apollo noted, not the defendant) jumped on the opportunity, arguing that Orly was the victim’s accomplice and had planned to help him cheat to beat Phoenix.

“However,” Kristoph went on. “She did not do a very good job of it. Her cheat failed, and therefore it is not difficult to imagine an altercation occurring between the victim and the witness. Perhaps a deadly one.”

The judge’s eyes were wide. “Mr. Gavin, do you mean to accuse the witness, Ms. Olga Orly…?”

Kristoph nodded. “I do, Your Honor. The defense accuses the witness, Mr. Olga Orly, of murder.”

The courtroom went into its usual uproar. The witness fainted, Payne was sweating, and Kristoph wore a smile as sharp as ice.

“Well,” the judge said, once he had managed to quiet the room. “It seems you have presented a new possibility to the court, Mr. Gavin. This connection between the victim and the witness, Ms. Olga Orly, cannot be ignored, and I cannot hand down a verdict for the defendant at this time.”

Payne made some sort of noise in protest, but the judge paid it no mind.

“As the prosecution will need to make further inquiries, I see no reason to prolong this trial today—”

“Objection!”

Apollo felt like Phoenix had taken the word right out of his mouth—had Phoenix not shouted it, Apollo almost felt like he might have. This trial couldn’t go another day. Apollo wasn’t sure he would be able to take it, knowing Kristoph would have another chance to hurt someone. And the thought of going to work this afternoon…

Of course, the rest of the court had no such thoughts. Payne gaped. The judge made a comment about Phoenix’s tendency to make trials ridiculous.

Phoenix raised a point about the hand of cards that had been examined earlier, the one that had prompted Orly to accidentally reveal the cheat. It was strange, he claimed, that the swapped card in his hand had been the wrong color.

Kristoph cleared his throat. “I am inclined to say the judge was right. You do seem to make trials ridiculous. However, as your defense, I maintain my position. It is only logical to name Olga Orly as the perpetrator.”

“Logical?” Phoenix returned. “How is it logical to assume that she swapped in the wrong color card? Might it be more logical to conclude that a fourth person was present in that room?”

Phoenix and Kristoph might have continued bickering between themselves had the judge not intervened. Phoenix’s claim called for further exploration, but that would take place after a twenty-minute recess, to allow the witness to recover. Court was suspended.

~~~

When the trial resumed, the tension in the air alone was enough to make Apollo’s bracelet just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Simon and Nahyuta had spent the recess debating the particulars of the case—both of them seemed quite certain that they could prosecute better than Payne—but Apollo had barely listened. He couldn’t help but feel like this was taking too long.

Orly had recovered, so she was brought to the stand again to give further testimony. Another strange joint cross-examination followed, and together Phoenix and Kristoph forced her to reveal her altercation with Smith.

Kristoph pressed on, arguing that Orly’s motive was now abundantly clear.

Orly was distraught. “Wait, hold on! I didn’t—someone’s trying to frame me!”

“Hm. I agree.”

A muscle in Kristoph’s jaw twitched before he turned to face Phoenix.

“Oh, really, Mr. Wright? And why is that?”

“I already told you.” Phoenix reminded the court of the possibility of a fourth person in the basement room.

“Could’ve been anyone,” he went on. “Could’ve even been you, Kristoph,” Phoenix said, shrugging.

“Stop being absurd,” Kristoph shot back.

“I just think that until we prove it isn’t possible, we really need to consider it,” Phoenix said. He glanced towards Payne. “Winston, any chance you’ve been offered an updated autopsy report?”

“What are you—no, of course not! What is there to update?” Payne scowled. “And that’s ‘Prosecutor Payne’ to you, Wright!”

“Really, Winston? After all this time?” Payne began to splutter something in response, but he was interrupted by a cry from the witness stand.

“Hold it!”

Detective Gumshoe careened to a stop at the witness stand, looking somewhat breathless.

“Sorry, sir,” he panted, addressing Payne. “Here it is! The updated autopsy report!”

He placed the file on Payne’s desk. Payne glanced back and forth between the report and Phoenix.

“What….how….?”

“Well, Prosecutor Payne?” the judge prompted. “Are you going to tell us what it says?”

“Er, yes. Right away.” Payne flipped open the folder, and collectively, the courtroom held its breath. “It says that the victim, Zak Gramarye, was hit—wait, Zak Gramarye?”

The judge’s brow furrowed. “Wasn’t that…the magician? The disappearing magician?”

A wave of conversation rose around the courtroom, and the judge insistently tapped his gavel.

“Prosecutor Payne, please clarify this matter!” he demanded, speaking louder to be heard over the voices that hadn’t yet subsided.

“Y-yes, Your Honor,” Payne replied. “Apparently, the dental records of the victim were a match to Shadi Enigmar, otherwise known as Zak Gramarye. Apparently.”

The babble of the courtroom couldn’t be quieted so easily now. All around Apollo, gallery members muttered their shock and confusion, while he alone watched Kristoph.

Beneath the glint of his lenses, Kristoph’s eyes were fixed on Phoenix, full of cold fury. Phoenix glanced at him, and the corner of his lips lifted into the smallest of smiles.

Finally, Apollo thought. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Hrm…” The judge looked thoughtful. “Well. This certainly adds a new dimension to the case, one that I do not believe can be fully explored over the course of a recess.”

Apollo stiffened. Wait, no—

“Wait, Your Honor—” Wright began, and the victorious glint in his eyes vanished in an instant. For the first time that day, he actually looked worried.

We can’t let this go another day!

But the judge shook his head. “It that was meant to be an objection, Mr. Wright, it would be overruled. We will resume this trial tomorrow. Court is adjourned!”

It all happened too quickly. The judge tapped his gavel, and the courtroom erupted into noisy conversation again. At the defense bench, Phoenix and Kristoph were engaged in a heated conversation—watching Kristoph, Apollo glimpsed the face of a demon emerging from the back of his right hand. On the other side of the courtroom, Payne pored over the new autopsy report, scratching his head and muttering to himself.

Apollo felt sick. Kristoph was still at large. The day’s trial hadn’t implicated him in the slightest.

Someone tapped Apollo on the shoulder, and he jumped.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said. “Um, are you ready to go?”

Apollo shook himself. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

On the bus, Simon, Nahyuta, and Sebastian discussed which dining hall they wanted to visit for lunch. Apollo wasn’t hungry. He took out his phone and texted Klavier, just a brief message to inform him that the trial had adjourned for the day. He couldn’t muster the energy to say anything else.

Back at Ivy, he parted ways with the other three and started walking aimlessly towards his dorm. He had class at one. Then work at Gavin Law Offices from three to six. Pre-Law Society had been moved to Tuesday this week thanks to a room scheduling conflict, so that was a small blessing.

It took everything he had to keep himself from getting back on the bus towards downtown. There were so many places he felt like he needed to be: at the hospital, by Vera’s side; at the detention center, making sure that Wright knew what he was doing, that this was just a setback; at Wright and Co., with Trucy…

His phone buzzed.

            Klavier [12:37 PM]: I’m reading through coverage now. Catch up with me after work, ja?

Apollo heaved a sigh and responded with a terse affirmative. He pocketed his phone, then stopped by his dorm to grab his notebooks and made his slow way to class.

He didn’t take a single note in class, and when he got on the bus to go to work, he was operating on autopilot. He wasn’t sure his wrist would be able to handle a conversation with Kristoph right now. With any luck, his boss would be busy elsewhere—but then, Apollo realized, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him, and he wouldn’t know that Trucy and Vera were safe—

So he wasn’t sure what to feel when he arrived at the office and saw that the light in Kristoph’s office was on. Relief, he supposed, but as Phoenix had pointed out, Apollo could be in danger, too.

Because I couldn’t shut up about it, Kristoph knows I know about the stamp.

Kristoph couldn’t know everything, of course. He didn’t know that Apollo also knew about the atroquinine. But Apollo couldn’t be sure what knowledge Kristoph might consider dangerous. As he sat down at his desk, he briefly wished he had asked Ema if he could hang on to her bottle of detection solution.

Apollo busied himself with some accumulated files for the better part of an hour. He moved more slowly than usual, reluctant to finish his tasks and be forced to go in search of more work from his superiors. He wondered if he could get away with just staying quietly on his desk, clicking around his computer—he also wanted to know what kind of trial coverage Klavier might have been reading—but after fifteen minutes of that, he started getting antsy. Reading about the trail wasn’t setting his mind at ease, and if Kristoph saw him, Apollo could not imagine that he would be very pleased.

Sighing, he visited the desks of the junior lawyers first, just in case any of them had any menial tasks for him. No luck—everyone just suggested that he ask Kristoph. Why was today the day that everyone was suddenly on top of their work?

As a last-ditch effort, he stopped by Reese’s desk—did she have any copying? Stapling? Mailing? Cleaning?—but she just thanked him for the offer and told him she had everything under control.

Kristoph’s office seemed to radiate an ominous energy. Apollo could already feel his bracelet tightening around his wrist.

He stood on the threshold and tapped lightly on the door. Kristoph looked up.

“Oh, Justice. I forgot you were here today.” He put down the stack of papers he had been leafing through.

“Um, yeah. Did you have anything you wanted me to do?”

Maybe he’ll just let me go home early?

“Hm. Not at the moment, but something will come to me.” Okay great I’ll just go twiddle my thumbs at my desk—“You were at the trial today, yes? Have a seat.”

Apollo tried not to look as abjectly dismayed as he felt. He settled in the chair and avoided Kristoph’s gaze.

“What did you think of this morning?” Kristoph asked. His voice was pleasant and expressed nothing more than mild interest. It was the voice he used when he intended the conversation to be an educational experience. Apollo did not want to have an educational experience.

“It was…interesting,” Apollo said. Kristoph waited, then made a quiet noise when he realized that was all Apollo was going to say.

“Just interesting, Justice? I would have expected a more in-depth response from someone nearly three-quarters of the way through their undergraduate education.”

“Um. Surprising?”

“Justice.” Apollo had to look up, now. Kristoph’s eyes glinted. “Are you worried about Mr. Wright? I would have expected you to have more faith in me than that.”

I’m worried about Mr. Wright, Trucy, Vera, and possibly me all succumbing to acute atroquinine poisoning sometime before tomorrow morning! Apollo’s brain provided. He pushed the thought aside.

“Of course not, sir. I just…wasn’t expecting it to take more than one day.”

Flattery—that was good, right?

Kristoph gave one of his slight smiles. “Ah, yes. But even the best of us can benefit from a little extra time.”

“Doesn’t this benefit the prosecution, though?”

“On the surface. I will certainly have a few more motives to dismantle.” Kristoph looked up. “Wright was in questioning when I went to the detention center earlier. But perhaps you can help me.”

“Me?” Apollo asked, trying to inject as much doubt as possible into his tone.

“You are familiar with Trucy Gramarye, yes? What do you know about the relationship between her father and Wright?”

“Uh, not much,” Apollo admitted. That, at least, was true, although he wasn’t sure there was much to know. “I think they only met once, aside from last night.”

“When?”

Apollo blinked. “Right before the trial. Gramarye’s trial.”

“Hm. Interesting. Why would they be meeting then, I wonder? Gramarye was not in need of an attorney.” Kristoph’s voice had an edge to it that made Apollo think he suspected the truth.

“Do you think he knew you cheated?”

He blurted his thoughts without meaning to. Kristoph’s jaw tensed, and Apollo’s bracelet swiftly attempted to amputate his hand.

“Cheated?” Kristoph echoed, glasses flashing.

“At poker,” Apollo clarified quickly, heart pounding. Not at trial law! Although he definitely knew that, too! “Maybe that’s why he wanted to talk to Wright. Because of his weird rules.”

“It may have been something like that, yes.” Kristoph relaxed. He examined his nails, then frowned slightly, pushed back his chair, and opened a drawer in his desk. “So, that’s all?” he went on, as he took a small glass bottle from the drawer. “If that is their only connection, tomorrow’s trial will not pose much of a challenge.”

Apollo’s breath caught as he recognized the delicate glass hand adorning the stopper of the bottle.

“W-well, that and Trucy,” he choked out, watching Kristoph quickly touch up the polish on one of his nails. The memory of Vera chewing on her fingernails surfaced in his mind, and fury burned in his stomach.

“Yes, of course. I imagine that will be the prosecution’s primary angle,” Kristoph said. “How would you counter it, Justice?”

“M-me? Uh…” Apollo felt like his mind had gone blank. “Well, I know he didn’t—”

“'My client is innocent because I said so’ doesn’t work in a court of law, Justice,” Kristoph cut him off. “Say I’m Prosecutor Payne, claiming that Gramarye wanted his daughter back, and Wright killed him because he felt threatened. What would be your rebuttal?”

Apollo bit back the impulse to say, “Mr. Wright wouldn’t do that!” and tried his best to distance his emotions from the case. Person A and Person B play poker, Person B ends up dead. Person C is a suspect.

Person D paints his nails and quizzes his intern about the facts of the murder he committed.

Okay, that wasn’t working.

Apollo floundered. “I’m not sure there’s any evidence—”

“No, quite right. So if you cannot counter the prosecution directly, what would you do next?”

An easier question. “Provide an alternative.”

“Yes. And that would be?”

“Orly.” He knew that was the answer Kristoph wanted, at least.

“Good to see you were paying attention,” Kristoph said. “Orly has motive and opportunity. How would you go about breaking her down?”

As they talked through this scenario, Apollo started to feel faintly ill. He hadn’t realized it before, but Kristoph was the kind of lawyer that had baffled Apollo when he was younger, before he realized that defense attorneys like Phoenix Wright existed. Kristoph guided him through the process of effectively pinning Orly for a crime she hadn’t committed, which would have been bad enough if it was their defendant they were lying for, but which was infinitely worse when Apollo knew he was speaking to the murderer himself.

But whenever Apollo considered mentioning the idea of a fourth person in the room, his eyes caught on the scar on Kristoph’s hand, and the bottle of nail polish resting on the desk, and he kept his mouth shut.

“And in the end, it will be in her best interest to confess,” Kristoph finished. “Simple, and effective. A one-day trial, if my client had been anyone else. Do you understand, Justice?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Well, I certainly have a lot to do before tomorrow. But this should occupy you until the end of the day.” He slid a stack of files across his desk, and Apollo gratefully accepted them.

He carried them back to his desk with his right arm, because his left hand was going a bit numb.

Kristoph left for the detention center again before Apollo was finished, so Apollo was spared any more encounters with his boss. Instead, he was left with the thought that he didn’t know exactly where Kristoph was, along with the faint and probably irrational fear that the files before him might all be laced with atroquinine.

When his phone buzzed close to the end of his shift, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

            Klavier [5:47 PM]: dinner at 7?

Apollo responded with a “sure,” and Klavier sent back a scattering of heart emoji. For a full ten seconds, Apollo just stared at them.

Right. Dating.

The previous night felt as distant as a dream. Apollo rested his head on his desk and closed his eyes, trying to remember the details—Klavier’s smile, his song, his kiss…it wasn’t fair, Apollo thought, that Kristoph be allowed to ruin this. To poison it.

He sent Klavier a heart emoji back, with a determined jab of his finger.

Fuck you, Kristoph.

~~~

When Apollo arrived at the dining hall, Klavier was already at a table with his food.

 “Guten Abend,” he greeted, smiling.

“Hey.” Apollo sat. “How was recording?” he asked quickly.

Klavier’s eyebrows rose. “Apollo, that is the furthest thing from my mind. Can you believe Phoenix Wright?”

Apollo stuffed some pasta in his mouth. “What about him?”

Klavier waved a hand. “Hijacking his own defense? Opposing Kris at every turn? Making jokes about accusing him? It was extremely unprofessional. I’m disappointed.”

“Hm.” Apollo occupied himself with chewing.

“The idea of a fourth person is ridiculous,” Klavier went on, incensed. “Orly has motive. The matter of the cards is trivial—she had just killed someone, of course she wasn’t thinking straight. If Wright had just allowed Kristoph to do his job, he would be a free man right now.”

“Hrm.” Exactly what Kristoph had said, in summary. The brothers were more similar than they thought.

Klavier frowned. “Do you not agree?”

Apollo, mouth still full, made another noncommittal sound.

“I know you admire him,” Klavier sighed. “But this is truly ridiculous. I don’t think he killed anyone, but it boggles the mind why he would act this way.”

“He’s just trying to find the truth,” Apollo said finally. “The fourth person is a possibility. The court needs to examine it.”

It was a relief to finally be able to say it without worrying that the statement could get him moved closer to the top of a hit list.

“Even so, he could try to find the truth without making a fool of his defense.” Klavier smiled slightly. “That is generally the prosecution’s job.”

Klavier also had some things to say about how he would have prosecuted better than Payne. It wasn’t too different from what Simon and Nahyuta had been saying, so Apollo let his mind wander.

He needed a way to keep Klavier away from tomorrow’s trial.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?” he tried, once Klavier had finished cataloguing all of Payne’s mistakes.

Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs. “Nothing I can’t miss. This is far more important.”

Apollo couldn’t exactly argue without being a hypocrite. He cast around for something else, anything else, that might convince Klavier to be anywhere but the courthouse tomorrow, but he came up entirely blank. His brain felt strained.

And for that reason, too, he made excuses when Klavier suggested getting some homework done at the library that evening. Not only did he doubt his ability to actually contribute to any useful studying, but keeping the truth from Klavier was already wearing him down. He debated the merits of just telling him every five minutes, and every time decided that he would probably do more harm than good, trying to arrange the story into something Klavier would believe. How would he even begin?

Apollo couldn’t help but notice Klavier’s puzzlement at his refusal, followed by the briefest crease of doubt in his brow. He made sure to pull him down into a proper kiss when they parted ways, as an apology he couldn’t offer with words, even though they were in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the library.

By the end of the day, Apollo was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Clay offered to distract him with some video games, which he gratefully accepted, but eventually, Clay did need to sleep, and the game wasn’t quite as much of a diversion on single-player.

He lay in his bed, willing sleep to come. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Vera’s drawing, Kristoph’s hand, the devil.

On his bedside table, Apollo’s phone buzzed. He sat up eagerly, relieved for an excuse to open his eyes.

            Trucy [12:54 AM]: hey polly. How are you doing?

Trucy. Despite everything, Apollo smiled slightly.

            Apollo [12:54 AM]: not great tbh. how about you? shouldn’t you be asleep?”

            Trucy [12:55 AM]: same :/ kay is here though, we’re watching movies. have you met kay?

            Apollo [12:56 AM]: no, but I know of her. does she try to clean the office too?’

            Trucy [12:56 AM]: haha no. besides miles keeps the house pretty clean.

            Apollo [12:57 AM]: I’m glad you’re safe

            Trucy [12:58 AM]: yep. Vera’s safe too. the ward is practically on lockdown. oh and they said she woke up again! just for a few minutes like before

For the first time that day, Apollo felt something like relief.

            Apollo [12:58 AM]: that’s great!

            Trucy [12:59 AM]: yeah! She drew something else too—does this mean anything to you?

An image was attached. It wasn’t exactly a sketch, like he was expecting—in fact, it seemed like nothing more than a loopy scribble, with maybe some suggestions of letters, like a cursory signature.

            Apollo [1:00 AM]: no, sorry, no idea

            Trucy [1:00 AM]: yeah me neither :( ok kay says it’s bedtime…try to get some sleep polly!

            Apollo [1:00 AM]: I will. You too, truce. Good night.

He stared at Vera’s scribble for a minute, until his eyes started to blur, then put his phone down, and soon, sleep finally claimed him. He had blissfully few dreams, and for one brief moment when he woke up, he forgot what the morning meant.

“You want me to come with you?” Clay asked, when Apollo was finished getting ready and was about to head out the door.

Apollo sighed and gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, but it’s okay. Go to class.”

Clay pulled him into a tight hug, then patted him on the shoulder as he went on his way.

Klavier was waiting in the quad, dangling a ring of keys from his finger.

“Morning, schatzi. You weren’t planning on taking the bus, were you?”

Anything to get me to the courthouse as slowly as possible, Apollo thought.

He had mostly overcome his fear of motorcycles, but when they got on the bike, Apollo clung to Klavier’s back regardless. Klavier tutted.

“Still don’t trust me, Forehead?”

“Can’t I hug my boyfriend?” Apollo shot back. Klavier laughed.

“Well, if that’s your excuse…” The motorcycle growled to life. Apollo tightened his grip.

He knew he couldn’t protect Klavier from this. The case would reach its inevitable conclusion. But Apollo just needed Klavier to know that he was here. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t prepare him for this, but he hoped that in the beating of his heart Klavier could feel, somehow, what Apollo desperately wanted him to know.

I’m here. I’m here. I love you, I’m sorry, we’ll get through this. I’m here.

The courthouse was much more crowded today—the revelation that the victim was none other than the missing magician Zak Gramarye had attracted a crowd on the scale of the previous Gramarye trial. Apollo and Klavier were early enough to find seats near the front again, but by the time the rest of the club arrived, they had to split up and find spots elsewhere. Even so, the two of them still ended up near some familiar faces, other early arrivals.

“Fräulein Faraday,” Klavier said warmly as they approached the seats. “Long time no see!”

Klavier was addressing a girl who looked to be around their age, with a thick black ponytail and bright green eyes. She turned at Klavier’s greeting, and her eyebrows went up.

“Klavier, hey!”

Ouch. Apollo rubbed his wrist. Kay was smiling, but there was worry behind her eyes.

Klavier turned to Apollo. “Have you met Kay?”

Apollo held out his hand. “No, but I’ve heard a bit about her.”

She met his eyes with a significant look as she shook his hand. “Same for you, Apollo,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Can we sit here?” Klavier asked.

“Just as long as you leave room for Trucy. She’s talking to her dad.”

Klavier and Kay started chatting about Kay’s recent trip to Zheng Fa, and Apollo half-listened. He didn’t realize he was spacing out until Trucy sat down beside him.

“Hey Polly.” Her voice was subdued, and she glanced around him at Klavier. “You couldn’t keep him away, huh?”

“I tried. But he was determined, after missing yesterday.”

Trucy sighed. “Maybe it’s better this way. If he sees it himself.”

She had a point, but the thought of Klavier going through this in any way made Apollo’s heart hurt. He glanced sideways at Klavier, who was laughing at a story Kay was telling.

“By the way,” Apollo asked Trucy, “why is Kay your…bodyguard?”

Trucy giggled. “You wouldn’t be asking if you knew her better. And Miles knows her from way back. Since he’s so busy, he wanted to leave me with someone he trusted.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Klavier said suddenly, leaning over and draping an arm around Apollo’s shoulders conspiratorially. “Guten Morgen, fräulein,” he added, his voice sobering. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” she assured him with a bright smile. “How about you?”

“I will be better once your dad stops meddling with my brother’s defense,” Klavier said. “Does he find it difficult to stop being a lawyer at home, too?”

“Tee hee. Sometimes. I can’t ever get away with avoiding my chores. Miles is worse, though.”

“Hm, I can imagine. Kris was much the same way when I was growing up.”

Trucy’s and Kay’s smiles turned wooden. Apollo winced. Klavier noticed nothing.

“All rise!”

The voice of the bailiff rising over the courtroom saved them from the awkwardness of the moment, but Apollo wasn’t sure he was actually thankful that court was beginning.

The players took their places, and the second day of the trial began.

The judge started off with a brief reminder that the jurist system was still in effect, and asked Prosecutor Payne to summarize where they had left off yesterday, particularly concerning the new information that had come to light.

“Gladly, Your Honor,” Payne said. It seemed he that he was eager to make use of the victim’s identity. His new angle pointed out that Phoenix had been taking care of Gramarye’s daughter since the magician’s disappearance, and with Gramarye’s return, Phoenix decided he needed to take Trucy’s real father out of the picture.

Phoenix admitted that he had known Gramarye’s identity all along, and the judge asked him to testify regarding the meeting he had had with the victim prior to the poker game—the one caught on camera by Olga Orly.

“Winston is right about one thing—I have been taking care of Trucy for the past few months,” Phoenix confirmed. “To my surprise, Gramarye got in touch with me about it a few weeks ago. He did not plan to come out of hiding, but he did have something he needed to give me, so we met. We talked about a lot of things,” Phoenix said. “The Gramaryes, Trucy…I was particularly interested in why Zak decided to disappear six months ago. He told me—”

 “Objection,” Kristoph said suddenly, and Phoenix turned to him, eyebrows raised.

The judge looked equally surprised. “Mr. Gavin, you…object to something your client has to say?”

Kristoph cleared his throat. “Gramarye’s disappearance is not relevant to the case at hand.”

Phoenix looked thoughtful. “We are trying to figure out why someone would want to murder him, right? His disappearance could reveal a motive, don’t you think? A motive other than mine, that is. Which is what again, Winston?”

“You were threatened! Gramarye wanted to take his daughter back!”

Wright shook his head. “He had no intention of doing anything of the sort. ‘Mr. Smith’ was quite committed to his disappearing act. He thanked me, actually, for looking after her.” His eyes flickered to the gallery, to Trucy, and he gave a small smile. “So I believe we’re still in need of a legitimate motive.”

“I agree,” the judge said. “Objection overruled. Carry on, Mr. Wright.”

“As I was saying. Gramarye left a note when he disappeared. ‘Tricks are better left to the magicians,’” Phoenix continued.

The judge nodded. “Ah, that’s right. Cryptic, wasn’t it…”

“Yes. As for what he meant by tricks—”

“Objection.”

“Again, Mr. Gavin?” The judge frowned.

“I do not believe we need look so far afield for a motive. There were three people in the basement room, after all.”

Kristoph tried to rehash his argument against Orly, but neither the prosecution nor the defendant was interested in listening. Even the judge seemed a little doubtful. He turned to Phoenix.

“Mr. Wright, was there still something you had to say regarding your meeting with the victim?”

Phoenix nodded. “If I may…?”

“Please.” He held up a hand when Kristoph opened his mouth. “I would like to hear this, Mr. Gavin.”

Kristoph’s lips pressed together in a thin line. It would have been easier, Apollo thought, for Phoenix to simply defend himself in this trial. Without Kristoph holding him back, he could have easily gotten around to Gramarye’s disappearance quickly enough that the court’s attention would have been piqued, relevance to the case aside. But Apollo couldn’t deny the drama of this scenario. Kristoph at the bench, trapped, seething but trying to hide it, while Phoenix slowly worked his way towards the true motive in Gramarye’s death. Apollo recalled suddenly that, prior to his legal career, Phoenix had majored in theater.

“Gramarye had two things to give me,” Phoenix went on. “The first, I believe, will overturn my supposed motive, Winston,” he added, glancing towards the prosecutor’s bench.

Payne grumbled something unintelligible.

“Gramarye intended to remain in hiding,” Phoenix said. “This can be proven by this document, here. It’s performance rights for Troupe Gramarye’s magic, granted to Trucy Wright. Signed by Zak Gramarye, and by two witnesses: myself, and a notary.”

Trucy leaned over to whisper in Apollo’s ear. “So it was a good secret, if you were wondering.”

Apollo recalled what Trucy had said about Phoenix acting strangely before his meeting. So that’s what he was up to.

“Gramarye intended to pass on the Troupe’s secrets to his daughter and retire from performing permanently. And you don’t need to take my word for it—there was another witness to the document, after all.” Phoenix turned to Payne expectantly.

Payne knew that calling the notary to the stand was exactly what Phoenix wanted, but he couldn’t exactly refuse. A brief recess was called while the witness was summoned.

“He’s incorrigible,” Klavier grumbled after the judge tapped his gavel. Clearly, he was still frustrated by Phoenix’s flippant treatment of his defense.

Apollo looked at him sideways. “Do you really still think it was Orly?”

Klavier pursed his lips, then sighed. “Nein, I suppose I don’t. But I’m not sure how this new witness will help anything. If there was a fourth person in the basement room, then statements should be collected from the restaurant staff in order to establish a list of suspects.”

When the trial resumed and Spark Brushel took the stand, Apollo was surprised to realize that he recognized him—he’d seen him at the detention center Sunday night.

Trucy leaned over. “The minty guy I told you about,” she said.

Brushel confirmed Phoenix’s testimony about the performance rights. He talked about how he and Gramarye had been friends for a long time, and he told the court that Gramarye’s intentions for the evening were twofold: he wished to pass along the Gramarye secrets, but he also wanted to best Phoenix at poker, after his loss six months ago.

“Six months ago?” the judge echoed. “When did the victim meet the defendant six months ago?”

Oh, Apollo thought faintly as Phoenix crossed the courtroom to the witness stand yet again. This is it.

Phoenix’s first poker game with Zak Gramarye was a connection to Gramarye’s trial. Gramarye’s trial was a connection to Kristoph. Now they were getting somewhere.

Apollo looked sideways at Klavier. He was sitting forward, his chin resting on his folded hands, watching Phoenix with sharp eyes.

“Gramarye called me to his cell the night before his trial,” Phoenix said. “He asked me to join him in a game of poker—no explanations, he just insisted I play. I won, and he told me he wanted me to represent him in the upcoming trial.”

The judge’s brow was furrowed. “But if I remember correctly, Mr. Gramarye already had a lawyer…”

Phoenix nodded. “That’s right.” He looked towards the defense bench. “Kristoph Gavin was Gramarye’s attorney.”

“Then why…?” the judge began.

“At the time, I had no idea. But I had to refuse. I had a trial that was scheduled to begin the day after Gramarye’s, and I couldn’t risk Gramarye’s trial extending into the second day.”

The judge nodded. “I see. But wait—you said, ‘at the time’…?”

“I believe I mentioned that Gramarye gave me two things the night he was murdered?”

“Yes, I do recall that. The performance rights, and…what was the other?”

At the defense bench, Kristoph stood with his arms folded, fingers digging into his sleeve. The devil winked at Apollo with each twitch of Kristoph’s muscles.

“I submitted this particular piece of evidence to the police at the time of my arrest, for safekeeping.” Phoenix turned to Prosecutor Payne. “Was there anything else in that folder from Detective Gumshoe?”

Payne looked like he wanted to object, but the judge gave him a look, and the prosecutor leafed through his files until he found what Phoenix meant. At the judge’s request, he handed it to a bailiff.

“This is…a notebook page?” the judge asked, holding up an evidence bag. “And…” His brow furrowed. “What’s all this? Scientific reports?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Phoenix said. “Now, if the court recalls, the trial of Zak Gramarye last fall hinged on a decisive piece of evidence submitted by the defense: the final page of Magnifi Gramarye’s diary. What you have in your hands is the true final page.”

“The ‘true’ page?” the judge echoed. “Meaning…”

“Meaning that the page submitted by Kristoph Gavin six months ago was a forgery, Your Honor.”

The gallery broke into a confused uproar. Beside Apollo, Klavier sucked in a breath. Apollo turned to him.

Klavier’s jaw was tense. His eyes were shining with anger, and that fury was directed solely at the man at the witness stand.

“How dare he,” he breathed. Apollo bit his lip.

Once the judge restored order, he stared at Phoenix. “Mr. Wright, what is the meaning of this?”

“Just trying to get to the truth, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Wright,” Kristoph interjected coldly. “If you wanted to handle your own defense, you should not have hired me.”

“Sorry, Gavin,” Phoenix said. He was smiling slightly. “But we can’t ignore this now, can we? Two diary pages—one of which gives someone else a motive for the murder I’m accused of?”

“You are correct to say one page must be fake,” Kristoph agreed. “The question here is who exactly is stooping to forged evidence to prove his point?”

Phoenix nodded. “Exactly. It’s you or me, isn’t it?”

“I am certain you will find that there is nothing out of place with the evidence I presented last fall,” Kristoph said evenly. “It is Magnifi Gramarye’s last entry, which proves my former late client was not guilty of killing his mentor.”

“Hm,” Phoenix scratched his chin. “You’re right about one thing—there really isn’t anything out of place here. The prosecutor in charge of that case ordered every possible test performed, and there was nothing to suggest that the page really didn’t come out of Magnifi’s diary.”

“So I see no reason to continue—”

“The thing is, the same is true for this page,” Phoenix went on. “Your Honor, what you have in front of you are the results of the tests for both pages.”

“The court accepts these records into evidence,” the judge said. “But Mr. Wright, if both are supposedly genuine—”

“Then we can’t rely on scientific evidence to resolve this contradiction,” Phoenix said. “Permission to approach the case from another angle?”

“Objection,” Kristoph called. “Your Honor, may I remind you that I am the defense attorney assigned to this case?”

“Hmm.” The judge frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “While Mr. Gavin is correct, I believe this is a matter this court must resolve. Permission granted, Mr. Wright.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Phoenix paused. “Now, I’m afraid I must draw the court’s attention to yet another recent case with a peculiar conclusion.”

Apollo kept his eyes on Kristoph. The attorney was adjusting his glasses, but beneath the glint of his lenses, his eyes were ice-cold and fixed on Phoenix.

“A case in which forgery was also a point of interest, although this court never had the chance to explore it, as the defendant was found dead in his cell the morning of his trial.”

The judge blinked. “That was…the artist, yes? Draw…no, Drew Misham.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. To review, Misham was suspected of poisoning his daughter with atroquinine, and after his arrest, he allegedly committed suicide in his cell. His suicide note was taken as a confession. However, the investigation into Misham prior to the trial uncovered some interesting facts.”

Phoenix held up a print-out containing a few colorful images. “First, these paintings discovered in Misham’s studio. Analysis revealed them to be forgeries. Not only that, the sophisticated instruments present in Misham’s studio were also likely to be used in the pursuit of making extremely accurate copies. Second, this letter”—Phoenix placed down a red envelope—“suggesting that Misham was paid a sum of $100,000 for a certain job. The postmark is for the day of Zak Gramarye’s trial.

“Unfortunately, neither Drew nor Vera Misham are available to testify regarding this letter. Of course, that is almost certainly by design.”

From the bench, Kristoph laughed. “Is that what you have, Wright? An unsigned letter? I didn’t realize you had such a grudge against me, to go through so much trouble.”

“I have a little more than that,” Phoenix said. He placed a bag on the table. “Your Honor, you will observe that the letter sent from one of Misham’s clients mentions an enclosed stamp.”

“How kind of this client to include return postage,” the judge remarked.

“Kindness had nothing to do with it, I’m afraid,” Phoenix said. “I submit into evidence this stamp, found in Misham’s studio. A commemorative stamp, placed in a frame because it featured Vera Misham’s favorite magicians, Troupe Gramarye.”

The judge took the bag and examined it. “Hm…what exactly is this blue stain, here?”

“That,” Phoenix said, “is residue from atroquinine detection spray.”

The judge’s eyes widened. “Atroquinine…?”

“This stamp, found in Drew Studio, was poisoned. A trap for Drew, from his client.”

Kristoph shook his head. “Quite a leap, Wright. The stamp was poisoned. So what? How can you say for sure it came from this hypothetical client?”

“In light of this evidence, I requested a few more tests be done on some of the other evidence left from Misham’s trial. This letter, for example. Note this blue residue, here?”

“Atroquinine again?” the judge cried.

“Yes, Your Honor. This letter contains an atroquinine trace matching that of the poisoned stamp. The chemical signature of the poison is also a match for the poison found on Vera Misham’s fingernails.”

“So this client—attempted to murder Mr. Misham?” Then the judge paused. “Wait. Mr. Misham committed suicide in his cell.”

“Yes.” Phoenix nodded. “Vera Misham had a particular affection for Troupe Gramarye, so she framed the stamp, and Drew Misham was able to avoid this trap. Only to fall into another one, when he made an unfortunate choice of defense attorney.”

“Objection,” Kristoph said immediately. “Your Honor, this is unfounded slander.”

“I have to agree, Mr. Wright,” the judge said. “If you wish to claim that…well, what are you claiming, exactly?”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “I am claiming that Kristoph Gavin commissioned forged evidence from Drew Misham for use in the trial of Zak Gramarye, then killed both Misham and Gramarye—and attempted to kill Vera Misham—to silence them.”

Apollo chanced a look at Klavier. His position hadn’t changed, but he had gone pale. Apollo nudged him gently, and he flinched.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, not even glancing at Apollo. “This is…absurd.”

It took the judge nearly a minute to quiet the ensuing uproar from the gallery. “Mr. Wright,” he said. “I will need to see some evidence connecting Mr. Gavin to this crime.”

Phoenix turned to Kristoph. “Maybe Mr. Gavin would be willing to testify…?”

“I refuse. I will not be dragged into this farce, Wright,” Kristoph responded crisply. “Is this your way of admitting that you have no evidence?”

Phoenix gave a thoughtful pout. “Your Honor, I have already presented the second diary page. The possibility of forgery is undeniable, and it gives Mr. Gavin clear motive.”

The judge deliberated a moment. “And there really is no way to tell which diary page is fake?”

“Not unless Vera Misham makes a convenient recovery,” Phoenix said. “And, as welcome as that would be, I don’t think we can count on it.”

“Hrm. This leaves me in a difficult position.” The judge looked between Kristoph and Phoenix. Then he turned to his right. “Prosecutor Payne? Do you have anything to say?”

Apollo had almost forgotten about Payne. The prosecutor had been standing at the bench in something like shock for the better part of the day’s trial.

“Y-yes, Your Honor!” Payne stammered. “Of course, the prosecution holds that the diary page presented today, by the defendant, is a forgery. A feeble attempt to pin the crime on his defense attorney!”

“Hrm. And what is your reasoning?”

“W-well…he only just presented it now!”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “The page has been in the possession of the police since Saturday night,” he said. “Enough time for a thorough forensic analysis to be completed, and certainly enough time for the prosecutor in charge of the case to be made aware of it.”

“Grk!” Payne winced. “In that case…erm…”

The judge sighed and turned back to his left. “Mr. Gavin, I believe I will request your testimony, to clear up a few points of confusion.”

“About what would you have me testify, Your Honor?”

“The diary page you presented at the trial of Zak Gramarye. How did you come by it?”

“It was given to me by my client. He ripped it from his mentor’s diary before he left his hospital room.”

“It was quite decisive evidence, if I recall,” the judge mused, looking over the page. “I was ready to declare a verdict immediately after.”

He took to staring at the two diary pages again, brow creased.

“Your Honor,” Kristoph said impatiently. “You will not determine which page is false by staring at them.”

The judge shook himself. “Hmph. No, of course not. Carry on, Mr. Gavin. When exactly did you receive the page from Mr. Gramarye?”

“My client and I only met once,” Kristoph began.

“Only once?” Phoenix interrupted. “That’s a little strange, isn’t it?”

Kristoph sighed. “I had rather bad luck with all my subsequent visits. The police and I were apparently operating on very similar schedules, and I do not have so much free time that I can loiter at the detention center all day.”

“No, no, of course not. So, that’s when you received the diary page?”

“Naturally,” Kristoph said smoothly.

Apollo frowned. Objection.

A second later, he realized he had spoken the word aloud, and somewhat loudly, too. The eyes of the courtroom shifted to him.

“Mr. Justice.” Phoenix was the first one to speak. “Is there something you want to add?”

“Young man,” the judge interrupted. “Members of the gallery should refrain from—”

“Apollo works at Gavin Law Offices, Your Honor,” Phoenix said. His eyes were glinting. “Can you perhaps corroborate Mr. Gavin’s story?”

“I…”

“Mr. Wright, I will not have testimony given from the gallery.”

“Then I propose we call Mr. Justice as a witness. Otherwise it’s just Mr. Gavin’s word alone that he got that page from Gramarye, right?”

The judge sighed. “I suppose you are correct, if it will help clear up this troubling matter. Mr. Justice, if you are willing…?”

“Um…” Apollo glanced to his right, and immediately regretted it. Klavier was staring at him with something like horror. Apollo gulped. But he couldn’t just stay quiet…

He stood and took hold of the railing to steady himself. The entire courtroom was staring at him, and he could practically feel Klavier’s eyes burning into his back.

It took him some time to make his way from the gallery to the lower floor, where a bailiff directed him to the witness stand. He took an oath, then looked up.

Oh. So this is what standing in court feels like.

The gallery loomed around him, a sea of curious eyes. The judge looked down at him impassively, and strangely, from this angle, he actually seemed very intimidating.

Of course, His Honor’s sage stare was nothing compared to the look on Kristoph’s face.

Kristoph’s arms were crossed, and his chin was tilted up slightly as he regarded Apollo. The angle cast his features in a strange light, and the expression was such a far cry from his usual polite smile that Apollo actually couldn’t bring the other expression to mind. He had the sense that Kristoph was literally looking down his nose at him, like he was some sort of distasteful insect.

But from beside Kristoph, Phoenix gave Apollo a reassuring nod. There was gratitude in his eyes.

“Name and occupation, please.” The judge’s voice startled Apollo out of his thoughts.

“Um. Apollo Justice. I’m a student, and an intern at Gavin Law Offices.”

“Thank you, Mr. Justice. Are we to assume that you were present when Mr. Gavin met with Zak Gramarye?”

Apollo nodded. “That’s right. Mr. Gavin brought me along to take notes.”

“Please describe the visit.”

“O-okay. Um, when we got there, Gramarye wanted to play a game of poker with Mr. Gavin, so we went to his cell. Mr. Gavin won, and Gramarye hired him.”

Was that a lie of omission? It was hard enough to talk about the actual point about which he was meant to testify—he couldn’t bring himself to mention the nature of Kristoph’s victory with his boss glaring at him like that.

“Then Gramarye filled out a defense request,” Apollo went on. “They didn’t exchange any other documents.”

“Perhaps you were not paying very close attention,” Kristoph suggested coldly.

Apollo took a deep breath. “I was paying attention, sir. It was a valuable experience. The only thing Gramarye gave you was a defense request form.”

Kristoph’s hand tensed—the devil grinned. “Mr. Justice. Do you recall the conversation we had a few weeks ago? Something about the job you would have at Gavin Law Offices after you graduated?”

Apollo suppressed a shiver. His bracelet squeezed his wrist, and his left hand felt numb. “And I appreciated the offer, Mr. Gavin, but I won’t lie under oath.”

Kristoph huffed. “Your Honor, this testimony is useless. Just because Justice didn’t notice Gramarye hand me the page does not mean it did not happen.”

“Mr. Gavin,” the judge said sternly. “May I remind you that you are still under suspicion of presenting forged evidence to this court last fall?”

Kristoph fell silent. But to Apollo’s surprise, Phoenix spoke next.

“Mr. Gavin, you’re right to say this isn’t exactly evidence,” he said. “But since we have Apollo here, there is one more piece of evidence I would like to explore.”

“What else can you possibly have, Wright?” Kristoph sighed.

“One more analysis that was done on that stamp.” Phoenix nodded towards Payne. “Prosecutor, if you would?”

“Wright, you are the defendant—” The judge glared. Payne grumbled and produced the paper.

“Wright,” Kristoph said as the new file made its way up to the judge via a bailiff, “you are aware, are you not, that this stamp you keep mentioning was taken from Drew Studio and remained out in the open for nearly two weeks, where any sort of tampering may have occurred?”

“Mr. Gavin makes a fair point, Mr. Wright…” the judge agreed.

“I am aware,” Phoenix told them. “But if you would hear me out, I think you’ll find that this analysis is sound.”

The judge accepted the file. “Go on.”

“The front of this stamp contains a number of fingerprints. We can assume that at least one of them belongs to Drew or Vera Misham, but unfortunately, the prints were obscured by an amateur analysis prior to the stamp’s arrival at the police crime lab.”

Apollo grimaced.

“However, the back of the stamp is a different story.” Phoenix looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, what you have is an enlarged image of the back of the stamp—the adhesive side—which has been tested with atroquinine detection solution in the crime lab.”

The back of the stamp? Apollo hadn’t even considered checking it. After Clay had sprayed the frame, the three of them had been in too much of a panic to examine the stamp further.

The judge peered at the print-out in front of him. “Why, that’s a fingerprint!”

The court murmured. Phoenix nodded.

“Yes. When Misham’s client prepared this stamp, they likely applied atroquinine to the adhesive. However, the oils left by this fingerprint prevented the poison from coating the stamp evenly.” Phoenix paused significantly. “So what we have here, Your Honor, is a fingerprint left prior to the application of the poison.”

“The killer’s fingerprint!” the judge gasped.

Phoenix grimaced. “Uh, not so fast, Your Honor. That is one possibility, of course, but to be more precise, the fingerprint may give us an indication of the stamp’s whereabouts when the poison was applied.”

The judge nodded. “Yes, quite right. But whose print is this?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Phoenix admitted. “There were no matches in the database. But, Mr. Justice—you’re not in the database.”

The test only took a few minutes. The match was made, the courtroom hummed, and the judge called for order. Kristoph glared at Apollo the entire time.

When the judge asked what this could possibly mean, Phoenix was the first to speak.

“I suppose that there is a possibility that Apollo Justice, a college student on a scholarship working as an intern, paid Drew Misham $100,000 to create a forgery,” he said. “But what seems far more likely is that Mr. Justice encountered this stamp elsewhere, perhaps at his place of work?”

Kristoph drew himself up. “Very well, Wright. I’ll humor you. Say that stamp was in my office, where my intern happened to touch it. Say I did commission a forgery from the Mishams. Say I did put poison on that stamp and include it in the letter.

“What evidence do you have to connect all of those things to the current trial—the murder of Zak Gramarye, if you’ve forgotten—in any way? Perhaps I desired a perfect copy of my favorite painting, and commissioned Drew Misham to make it for me. The Mishams forged art, did they not? How does this bear any relation to the final page of Magnifi Gramarye’s diary, or to my supposed ‘motive’ in killing Zak Gramarye?”

“Misham’s death—”

“Was a suicide.” Kristoph cut him off. “Wright, I can understand being nervous when one is accused of murder, but I would have appreciated you put a little more trust in me, instead of resorting to these extreme measures to exonerate yourself. The forgery you have produced is incredible, but I am here to clear you of one crime, and I can make no guarantees regarding the second.”

“Mr. Wright,” the judge said. “Mr. Gavin is correct. There have been some serious allegations made today, but I will need to see some evidence connecting the Mishams to this case, if you wish to pursue this angle any further.”

Phoenix glanced towards Apollo, and Apollo was chilled to see the plea in his eyes. He doesn’t have an answer.

A bluff wouldn’t work here. If they let this subject drop, Kristoph would never allow them to pick it up again. They would end up talking in circles about Olga Orly again, or whoever else Kristoph produced to take the blame.

And Apollo couldn’t help but feel like he was letting everyone down. Phoenix and Edgeworth, who had been trying to find the truth of this matter for months; Trucy, who was staying so strong through all of this despite how much she had to lose; and most of all Vera, who was laying trapped in her body and fighting so hard to tell them what she knew…

Oh. That’s it.

“Hold it!”

The eyes of the courtroom swiveled to Apollo.

“You have something to add, Mr. Justice?” the judge asked. “I would ask that you refrain from talking about anything but the matter at hand.”

“This is about the matter at hand, Your Honor.” Apollo took a deep breath. “There might be a way to figure out which of those pages is a forgery.”

“Hm. That would certainly help clear up this entire mess, yes. But what way is that?”

“Misham’s suicide note,” Apollo began. “If I remember right, it mentioned something about ‘leaving his mark.’ But…what if he didn’t mean a figurative mark? What if he meant…an actual mark?”

The judge frowned. “So we’re looking for someone named Mark…?”

“No, no! Like, a signature. On his work.”

Kristoph let out a short laugh. “That would certainly be convenient, Justice. But I have seen no evidence to suggest—”

“Well, it would help to know what the mark is,” Apollo interrupted. He looked up at the gallery, at Trucy, who met his eyes and gasped.

“Oh!” Immediately, she started rustling in her bag. “Here!”

A piece of paper sailed across the courtroom in the form of a paper airplane, landing gently beside the judge’s gavel.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Vera Misham has been in a coma for a few weeks,” Apollo said. “But she’s woken up a couple times, briefly. Both times, she drew something. The first—well, that’s not really important. But the second…” He looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, don’t you think that could be some kind of signature?”

“It certainly does look like one,” the judge agreed.

“‘Could be,’” Kristoph cut in acidly. “A scribble from a dying girl is hardly—”

“Objection,” Apollo said. Loudly. “Vera is not dying.” He met Kristoph’s eyes for a moment, then went on. “And it’s easy enough to see if I’m right. Just check if either note has that signature somewhere. And look at Misham’s other works, too, just to make sure.”

“Hrm…” The judge had taken to staring at the three pieces of paper in front of him again. “Very well!” he cried. “Court will adjourn for a short recess to examine Drew Misham’s forgeries!”

“Objection—” Kristoph began, but the judge was already tapping his gavel and calling over a few bailiffs.

Apollo was told he could return to his seat. He shared a hopeful glance with Phoenix before leaving the courtroom and starting up the stairs to the gallery.

“Good work, Polly!” Trucy cried when she saw him. “I knew Vera was trying to tell us something!”

Apollo gave her a small smile, but it disappeared when he noticed the empty seat next to her.

“Uh, Trucy? Where’s Klavier?”

She turned. “Huh?”

Apollo looked to Kay. “Did he leave?!”

“He said something about the bathroom.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

Apollo whirled around. “I’ll be back.”

He descended the stairs two at a time, then paused at the bottom, glancing right and left down the hallway. He could check the bathroom first, just in case.

But as he passed a hallway, a glint of platinum hair caught his eye. There!

Klavier hadn’t seen him.

“Kl—” Apollo started to say, then froze and ducked back around the corner.

“Kris!” Klavier called, just as the other Gavin emerged from the defense lobby.

“Klavier.” Kristoph’s voice was detached. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Klavier ignored him. “What’s the meaning of all this? What are they going to find?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Apollo peeked around the corner, through the leaves of a potted tree, to see Kristoph adjusting his glasses.

“But that evidence…the page you presented last fall, is it—”

“Klavier, what exactly are you asking me?” Kristoph’s eyes were cold.

“Did you present forged evidence to defend Zak Gramarye?”

“Of course not.” Apollo’s bracelet constricted. “Don’t tell me you’ve been taken in by Wright’s elaborate tale?”

“I…”

“Ah, but of course. It is not so much Wright as it is my traitorous little intern.” Kristoph stepped closer and dropped his voice. “You can do better than him, Klavier. He’ll never amount to anything more than a second-rate attorney like Wright. And if you’re not careful, he’ll drag you down, too. Is that what you want? To lose everything you’ve worked for?”

“Kris—”

“At some point, Klavier, you will need to get serious. I could forgive naïveté when you were younger, but I’m starting to worry now that you never intend to grow up.” Kristoph sighed. “Perhaps that was my mistake, letting our parents spoil you so.”

A bailiff emerged from the defendant lobby. “Mr. Gavin…”

“Yes, very well.” Kristoph met Klavier’s eyes one more time and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know I always have a good reason for everything I do, yes, dear brother? Even if it is a reason you are not yet capable of discerning?”

Klavier gave a shaky nod.

“What was that?” Kristoph leaned closer.

“Yes, Kristoph.”

“Very good.” He patted Klavier’s shoulder, then glanced him over with a frown. “Now, next time you are in the courthouse, please make yourself more presentable. This is not one of your rock concerts.”

“Yes, Kristoph,” Klavier repeated.

“Hm.” With that, Kristoph turned to follow the bailiff.

With his brother gone, Klavier let out a heavy sigh and tilted his head back, like he was staring at the plaster ceiling. He stood like that for several seconds, then shook himself and turned in Apollo’s direction.

Apollo immediately withdrew and retreated a few steps down the hallway, so when Klavier turned the corner, he appeared to have been walking towards him.

Klavier looked up. “Apollo—what are you doing out here? Court is about to resume.”

“I was looking for you.” Apollo searched Klavier’s face, but his features were arranged into a pleasant smile.

“Ah, I just had to use the restroom,” Klavier lied smoothly. “Shall we go?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Trucy gave Apollo a questioning look when they returned to their seats, but Apollo had no idea how to express what he had just seen.

When court resumed, “Anna Lyse, forensic scientist” took the stand. She was a severe-looking woman with dark hair tied into a practical ponytail and narrow glasses balanced on her nose, and she wore a lab coat with a few dubious stains on it. Her collar had a dusting of what Apollo thought might be fingerprint powder on it, and Apollo wondered faintly if he was looking at Ema twenty years from now.

“Two of Misham’s known forgeries were examined first,” she began. “The reference mark was found in the rough sketch beneath the paint on both works.”

The judge nodded. “And what about the diary pages?”

Apollo held his breath. If he was wrong, this was it. The tenuous connections between the three crimes would crumble, and Kristoph would slip away.

“No signature of any kind was found on the diary page presented today,” Lyse went on. Her voice was very even, almost devoid of feeling. “But under UV light, a mark matching the reference was found in the corner of the page presented as evidence last fall.”

Maybe it was Lyse’s unemotional delivery, but the courtroom was simply silent for a few long seconds after she finished speaking.

The judge stared. “So…”

“The diary page presented at the trial of Zak Gramarye contains a mark matching those on two pieces of forged artwork created by Drew Misham,” Lyse confirmed.

“That’s…” The judge turned very slowly towards the defense bench. “Mr. Gavin, this is very serious indeed.”

Kristoph had fixed Lyse with a murderous stare.

“This is ridiculous. I am being framed.”

“The evidence has been in lockup since last fall, except to perform forensic analysis,” Lyse added. She seemed entirely unperturbed by Kristoph’s glare.

“That’s…” Kristoph inhaled deeply, then turned to the judge. “Your Honor—”

“You are going to remind me of the case at hand, yes, Mr. Gavin?” the judge guessed, and Kristoph stiffened. “I’m sorry to say that I believe this can be considered a connection between yourself and the case at hand.”

Kristoph’s jaw twitched. “There is no evidence connecting me to the Borst Bowl Club the night of the murder. I regret to say it, but my client was present—”

“Really, Kristoph?” Phoenix interrupted. “Throwing away your perfect record just like that? We can still win this. After all, it’s a historic day.”

“…what?”

“You haven’t forgotten about the jurists, have you? They’ve heard quite a lot about your exploits these past six months…”

“Alleged exploits,” Kristoph growled. “I have admitted nothing.”

“Right, right,” Phoenix said placatingly. “But, I’m just saying, cheer up! Things are looking pretty good for our case. We’ve got a plausible alternative and everything!”

Apollo was fairly certain that if a grape juice bottle had been on hand, Kristoph might have added Phoenix to his list of victims right then and there.

The judge looked troubled. “It appears there are more dimensions to this case than previously thought. I am tempted to suspend this trial until tomorrow”—numerous gasps went up around the courtroom—“however, I am not entirely sure that will be necessary.” He turned to his right. “Prosecutor Payne. Do you have any other evidence against the defendant which this court has not yet discussed?”

“I…I…” Payne stammered. “W-well, he, erm…” He shuffled through his papers hastily, and his shoulders slumped. “No, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.”

“Hm. And the defense? Any remarks that do not involve blaming your own client?”

“This is…nonsense,” Kristoph hissed. “The evidence is all the matters here! There is no room in this court for the arbitrary judgements of common people! What’s next? Holding a vote in the gallery? The court is a place of law, not a forum for irrational mouth-breathers to air their opinions as they please!”

Kristoph whipped his head towards Phoenix, and a few strands of hair came loose from his braid.

“Wright, you intended this from the start! To set me up, for whatever reason—I cannot fathom what kind of grudge you must hold against me!” He looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, you should be ashamed! This is no court! The law cannot be subject to the whims of common citizens! The law is absolute!”

The judge’s expression was grave. “Mr. Gavin, I’m afraid I must disagree with you. I will be the first to admit that this system is far from perfect. It is a product of many years, of many trials and errors…but it is our duty, however, to work with it, and nurture it, into something that we can be proud of in our time.”

Apollo thought that, had this been any other trial, he might have been rather touched by the judge’s words. Today he just felt ill.

Kristoph seethed. “This is an absolute farce. All of the evidence implicates Wright. In what courtroom is it acceptable to simply ignore—”

“Kristoph.”

Apollo jumped. Beside him, Klavier was standing, staring blankly down at his brother. He gripped the railing with both hands, so hard that his knuckles were white, and his voice carried easily across the courtroom.

Kristoph looked up, fury in his eyes. “Sit down, Klavier.”

“You told me there was a reason,” Klavier went on, disregarding the command. “What was it?”

Kristoph’s lips twisted. “As if I could expect you to understand,” he spat.

Klavier’s grip relaxed. Before Apollo could stop him, he turned and swept towards the exit.

The judge cleared his throat. “If neither the prosecution nor defense has anything further to say, then I do not think this trial needs to be extended another day,” he said. “This began as the trial of Phoenix Wright, accused of murdering a traveler Shadi Smith, but the other incidents brought to light of the course of these past two days will certainly require further attention. However, I believe it is time for this court to reach a verdict for Mr. Wright. Jurists, please consider the information you have at your disposal, and answer this question: For the murder of Zak Gramarye, how do you consider the defendant, Phoenix Wright? Innocent? Or guilty?”

And so, with a tap of the judge’s gavel, the jurists began their deliberation. Apollo was already out of his seat, but the rest of the audience was rising, too, and it took him far too long to elbow through the crowd to follow Klavier.

Dammit!

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Klavier was nowhere to be seen. The hallway outside the defendant’s lobby was crowded, but Apollo saw no sign of a tall platinum blond.

Turning on his heel, he strode towards the main entrance instead, swerving around reporters and gallery members. He had his phone to one ear.

“Ja, you have reached Klavier Gav—"

He hung up and resisted the strong urge to just toss the phone aside. Directing his frustration towards the courthouse doors instead, he burst out onto the sidewalk and scanned the courtyard.

Where are you?

Nearby, an engine growled, and a second later, a purple motorcycle shot past the courthouse and disappeared down the street.

“Klavier!” Apollo shouted, uselessly. Shit!

A bus trundled by a moment later. Well, there goes my ride.

He remained outside the courthouse for several minutes, pacing frantically, until a hand caught his shoulder.

“Apollo.”

Nahyuta stood beside him, his eyes filled with more concern than Apollo could ever recall seeing from his foster brother.

“You knew.” Nahyuta’s stare is steady. Not unsympathetic, but firm.

Apollo nodded shortly and tried to take to pacing again, but Nahyuta didn’t release him.

“Klavier did not.” Another statement. Apollo didn’t even need to answer.

“It will be a while before the jurists reach a verdict,” Nahyuta said, “but you should see this through.” He tugged Apollo slightly towards the courthouse.

Apollo allowed himself to be guided back inside, and they stood near the top row of the gallery instead of trying to find seats again. It was a while—nearly an hour—but to Apollo the time seemed to pass strangely, and he hardly noticed the fatigue in his legs as he stood.

When the judge finally read the verdict, Apollo barely heard it. He only faintly registered the sprinkles of confetti raining from the ceiling.

What he did hear was Kristoph’s laugh. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard out of his boss’s (former boss’s?) mouth, a laugh that matched the ghoulish face on his hand better than the polite, eloquent Kristoph Gavin. Even after Kristoph was led away, the laugh wouldn’t leave Apollo’s head. He felt like he couldn’t hear over it, and when Trucy and Kay found him a few minutes later, Kay had to repeat herself twice before Apollo understood her.

“I can give you a ride back to campus,” she said gently. “Sound good?”

He nodded gratefully.

“You, too?” Kay asked Nahyuta, but he held up a hand and shook his head.

“Go. Simon and I will gather up the club,” he told Apollo.

It was a short walk to a parking garage across the street. “Do you know where—” Apollo began as he got into Kay’s car, a battered-looking black sedan.

She nodded. “Gavinners house, right?”

“Thanks.”

They rode in silence. Kay fiddled restlessly with the radio, while Apollo stared unseeingly at the taillights of the cars in front of them. When they arrived at the Gavinners house, he was immensely relived to see Klavier’s motorcycle parked by the curb. His mind had been conjuring horrific images of traffic accidents for the entire drive.

He thanked Kay again and got out. His first knock at the door received no immediate answer, so he started to push it open anyway.

Daryan stood in the entry, just about to let him in. His expression turned grim when he saw Apollo.

“He’s in his room,” he said, before Apollo could ask. “But he locked the door and won’t talk to anyone, so…”

Apollo pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time.

He knocked on the door, to the right of the silver G. “Klavier,” he began. “Klav. It’s me.”

Silence. Apollo rested his forehead on the door and closed his eyes. “Klavier, please let me in. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Please.”

There was a click from the door, and Apollo tried the knob. It turned, and he slowly pushed his way into the room.

Klavier was lying on his bed, his back to the door and his face buried in that enormous Blue Badger plush. His hair was starting to unravel, and a few wavy locks spilled over his shoulder. Apollo bit his lip.

Wordlessly, he sat on the edge of the bed so he and Klavier were back-to-back. From here, he could see the side of Klavier’s face—his eyes were squeezed shut and smudged with makeup, and his bangs were a mess. Gently, Apollo reached out and tucked one strand of hair behind Klavier’s ear.

In response, Klavier just made a quiet noise and curled further in on himself. Apollo paused.

“Klavier,” he said softly. “Do you want me here, or…?”

“Stay.” The word was spoken in a hoarse whisper, but Klavier’s voice was firm.

“Okay.”

For a minute, the two of them just sat in silence, Apollo ran fingers through Klavier’s hair, gently rearranging the loose strands back into some semblance of order. Klavier was still, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his shoulders with his breathing.

Finally, Klavier took a deep, shaky breath and shifted slightly. His eyes remained closed.

“Did you see him?” he murmured. “At the end.”

Apollo nodded, then remembered Klavier couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

Klavier had left too early to see Kristoph after the verdict, but Apollo imagined the pictures must have surfaced online not long after. The images lingered in Apollo’s mind—Kristoph being led from the courtroom, hair hanging loose and wild around his shoulders, muscles twitching with manic laughter.

“It doesn’t even…he looked…he looked…unhinged. I’ve never seen…he’s not…that isn’t…” Klavier’s eyes cracked open, and he loosened his hold on the Blue Badger in order to look up at Apollo, something of a plea in his expression. “That isn’t him. That isn’t Kris. It can’t…my brother…”

Apollo didn’t know what to say. He wished he could tell Klavier it was some sort of cruel joke, that Kristoph and Phoenix were out for coffee now, having a good laugh over it with the judge.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Klavier made a small choking sound and closed his eyes again. His shoulders shook.

Apollo extracted the Blue Badger from Klavier’s grip—he didn’t put up much resistance—then climbed over Klavier’s legs so they were facing each other, and pulled Klavier into his arms, rubbing circles into his back as Klavier sobbed soundlessly into his chest.

After a few minutes, Klavier’s quiet crying subsided. He pressed closer to Apollo, and even though he had six inches on him, he suddenly seemed very, very small.

“I just…I don’t…understand,” Klavier choked out, his words muffled in Apollo’s chest. “He was…Kris was…a good person, he…I looked up to him, I…I wanted to be a lawyer because of him and now…what does that mean for me if he’s…if it was all…”

 “Don’t think like that,” Apollo said firmly. “You’re not him, Klavier. You looked up to who you thought he was. I did, too.”

“But I should have…noticed or…or something, I should have been able to see that in him and…I could have stopped this or…” His voice broke with another gasping sob. “And if Vera dies it will be because of me, because I didn’t stop Kris and because I look like Kris and because I was stupid and in a hurry and—”

Apollo resumed steadily rubbing Klavier’s back. “No, no, shh, it’s okay. Hey, remember? Vera’s woken up twice. The doctors say it’s a good sign—she could wake up for good any day now.”

Klavier sucked in a breath and tried to steady his breathing. “R-really?”

“Yeah, yeah, they said it was really good news, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.” I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything, I’m sorry I couldn’t have prepared you for this. “She’ll be okay, Klav, she will.”

“B-but I—”

“This is not your fault,” Apollo interrupted. “None of it.”

Klavier clenched his teeth, but he didn’t protest this time. His tears seemed spent. As the minutes went on, his breathing became less shaky, and the tension in his frame gradually relaxed, but he appeared more exhausted than recovered.

Cradling Klavier in his arms, Apollo wondered if there was anything he could have done differently. He had decided over and over again that there would have been no good way to warn Klavier in advance, but what if he had been wrong? Was there anything he could have done to lessen the sting of this betrayal?

Suddenly, Klavier started.

“Shit, what time—I have class—” He shrugged out of Apollo’s embrace and sat up.

Apollo sat up too and grabbed his arm. “Klavier, you’re not going to class.”

“Yes, I am. Move, you’re sitting on my jacket—”

Apollo held him by the shoulder and smiled softly. “You cannot go to class looking like that.”

Klavier’s hand flew to his cheek, touching a streak of eye makeup, and his face fell. “Oh.”

His lower lip started to quiver again, and Apollo sighed, pulling him back into his arms.

But Klavier didn’t relax so easily this time. He shifted restlessly, then slipped out of Apollo’s grasp and sat back, wiping the tears from under his eyes.

Thinking back later, Apollo realized that at that moment, he was watching a wall go up.

It happened in stages. Klavier rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. He took a deep breath, brushed back the mess he had made of his bangs with one hand, then looked to Apollo and gave a small, polite smile.

“I’m going to take a shower.” His voice was steady now, or it seemed to be. “You don’t need to wait.”

Apollo blinked. “Wait, what?”

 Klavier’s voice dropped into a sultry register. “Unless you’d like to join me?”

“W…what?”

“Just kidding, schatzi.” He smirked and hopped off the bed. “Thanks for dropping by.”

Oh, no you don’t…

But Klavier was already opening his bedroom door. Apollo, feeling faintly whiplashed, trailed after him.

“Wait, Klav—”

“You have class, ja? You should probably get going.”

“But…”

“Hm?” Klavier paused in the doorway to the bathroom. “Oh, ja, almost forgot.” He stepped forward, leaned down, and pressed a quick kiss to Apollo’s lips, then stepped back and grinned. “I can do that now.”

Before Apollo could say another word, Klavier swept into the bathroom and shut the door. Apollo was left in the hallway, absentmindedly touching his lips.

“Yeah, that’s about what happened to me, too.”

Apollo started. Daryan was leaning in the doorway to his room. “Minus the kiss. Mine was on the cheek.”

Apollo frowned quizzically, and Daryan laughed, then gestured for Apollo to follow him downstairs. They sat at the kitchen table, and Apollo was reminded of suddenly of Sunday morning. The number of things that had changed since then was enough to make him feel faintly dizzy.

Daryan sighed. “I was kinda hoping you’d be able to prevent it.”

“Prevent what?”

Daryan gestured vaguely towards upstairs. “He’s always been like this. He thinks he needs to be perfect… ‘Klavier Gavin,’ you know? Das Wunderkind. Anytime something shitty happens he just…well, you saw. It’s just like when his parents died.”

Apollo looked up. “Wait, his parents…?”

Daryan nodded. “In middle school. Kristoph looked after him after that. Except for those two years in Germany, which he really should have cancelled after the accident, but…well. There’s a theme here, obviously.”

Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. Of all the things they could have in common, he wasn’t expecting ‘dead parents’ to show up on the list. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah. It’s like, his parents weren’t so bad, not overly strict or anything, but Kristoph…it’s the whole ‘calm, cool, and collected’ thing. Never lets anything bother him. And Klav looked up to him, but Klav is bothered by everything, so…” He shrugged. “He just piles stuff on top, instead, and presses it all down until that stuff becomes a part of him. Like the Germany thing.” Daryan looked down, and there was a small smile on his lips. “I had to buy a fucking dictionary just to understand him when he got back.”

“And then what?”

“And then nothing. Too much time passes, and you start to feel like an asshole for bringing it up.” Daryan let out a frustrated sigh.

The two of them were quiet for a moment as Apollo processed this new information. He wasn’t sure why he had never considered before that Klavier’s parents were deceased—Klavier never mentioned them, not even over the holidays, so it should have been an easy deduction. Klavier could have brought it up plenty of times, particularly when Apollo was discussing his own absent parents, but he hadn’t.  In retrospect, the omission seemed very intentional.

Apollo never really considered himself an extremely open person, so it was startling to realize that he knew far less about Klavier’s past than Klavier knew of his.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Daryan said, noticing the troubled expression growing on Apollo face. “Not many people know.”

“Everyone is going to know about this, though,” Apollo pointed out. “Whether Klavier says anything or not.”

Daryan nodded. “Yeah. But…I’m kinda glad all this happened, actually.” When Apollo made a face, he elaborated. “Because Klav thinks he’s not good enough, but this just proves what I’ve been telling him all along. That stuck-up prick’s got nothing on him.” He sighed. “It’ll be hard for him, obviously. But better, in the long run.”

Apollo looked at his hands. “Hm.”

“Or it will be, if he doesn’t just bury it again,” Daryan amended. “So…I dunno. Maybe you can do it. Pull all that darkness out of him. Since I couldn’t.”

Apollo’s bracelet tightened; Daryan was looking down at his hands, twisting one of his rings.

“Daryan…” Apollo said slowly. “Do you still—”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Daryan interrupted sourly. “He’s too good for me. The only reason I even had a chance with him is because he refuses to see his own worth.” He shook his head. “I’ve held on to him long enough. Longer than I had any right to.”

“But…”

Daryan looked up. “We broke up over you, you know? I was so pissed for the longest time, but…” He shrugged. “You’re good for him. Like, annoyingly good.”

Apollo tried not to let on that the statement had pleased him, but then something caught his attention. “Wait, hold on. When did you guys break up again?”

“Technically? Last year. February. You guys had, like, one class together.” Apollo stared at him, and Daryan laughed. “Yeah, see? You had no idea. He’s hopeless. Never thinks he’s good enough for the people he admires, so he psychs himself out.”

Daryan sighed. “And with Kristoph especially…well, it’s weird. Because sometimes I’d think, oh, he gets it. Because you can admire someone but also admit they’re wrong sometimes, and Klav was always fighting with him, so I figured maybe he realized that Kristoph wasn’t perfect. But I guess that’s kind of how siblings are. You can talk shit about them, but the second anyone else does…” He shook his head. “And maybe it was more extreme with them, because it was just them.”

Apollo, still (somewhat guiltily) trying to remember if he and Klavier had even interacted in any of their classes a year ago, shook himself. “I thought they had other family?” he asked.

“Yeah, they do, but they don’t live close. Kristoph only invites them for holidays to show off.” Daryan made a face. “And honestly? They’re all shitty, too. A whole family of competitive stuck-up assholes.”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah.” He let out an unexpected laugh. “Klav’s a weird guy, y’know? But he makes a lot more sense in context.”

Apollo nodded. “Thanks, Daryan.”

“Don’t mention it.” Daryan glanced at a clock on the wall. “Was Klav just trying to get you to leave, or do you actually have a class?”

Apollo followed his gaze. “Oh, shoot. Yeah.” He started to stand, then glanced towards the ceiling. “Um…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Daryan said.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and hey, Spikes.” Daryan stopped him as he turned to go.

“Yeah?”

Daryan made a face. “Sorry about boning your boyfriend.”

That was the last thing Apollo was expecting to hear. He reddened. “Uh…I mean…we weren’t actually—”

“Yeeeah, you kind of were, though. And I’ve been calling you his boyfriend for like half a year now, so I actually did feel bad.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Uh…thanks?” Completely at a loss for what to say next, Apollo glanced at the clock again. “Um, I have to—”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Outside the Gavinners house, Apollo paused. He felt wrong, leaving Klavier alone at a time like this, but there wasn’t much he could do if Klavier was just going to refuse his help.

Pull all that darkness out of him, Daryan had said. Not an easy task, when Klavier concealed the darkness behind a thousand-watt smile. Apollo thought that dragging a confession from an uncooperative witness would probably be less of a challenge.

But he had to try. Klavier wouldn’t fight this battle on his own, as much as he seemed determined to.

Besides, Apollo had to live up to his name at some point. And who better to banish a clinging darkness than the god of the sun?

Apollo went to class, if only to give himself something to do so he wouldn’t just fret over Klavier. He met up with Clay for dinner and caught him up on the day’s events.

As they were talking, a voice interrupted.

“Mind if I join you guys?”

Ema hovered next to the open chair at their table with her plate. At their invitation, she sat heavily and plopped a backpack down beside her.

“So, um…” Ema paused to take a bite of her pizza. “Is Klavier…okay?”

Apollo must have looked more surprised than he meant to, because Ema scowled.

“Just because I think he’s obnoxious doesn’t mean I don’t care,” she grumbled. “We’re friends. Sort of.”

Apollo smiled slightly. “He’s…kind of okay.”

Ema nodded knowingly. “So, acting like everything’s perfect?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“I met him in Germany, remember?”

Right after the deaths of Klavier’s parents, Apollo recalled. “Oh, right.”

Ema sighed and took another bite of her pizza. “Thank god this is all over,” she said, mouth full. “Kay got back like a week ago and I haven’t even seen her yet.”

“Oh, I met her today,” Apollo said. “She gave me a ride. You guys are friends?”

Ema raised an eyebrow. “Try girlfriends. We’ve been long-distance forever. The time difference with Zheng Fa is a bitch.”

“Oh.” Apollo frowned. “…I feel like I should have known that.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Pollo, I’ve decided that your gaydar is missing a few key features.”

Ema snickered. “Speaking of which…maybe not the right time to ask, but are you and Klavier dating yet, or what?”

Clay and Apollo exchanged a glance.

“Well…we are dating,” Apollo said slowly. Despite everything, it still gave him a bit of a thrill to say that.

“Oh, finally. Since when?” She glanced at Clay, as if surprised he hadn’t mentioned anything.

“He asked me out on Sunday night,” Apollo explained, and Ema’s eyes widened.

“After…?”

Apollo nodded.

“Well, that’s shit timing.” Ema frowned sympathetically. She held out a bag of Snackoos, and Apollo extracted one and munched it mournfully. “I kinda feel bad for complaining now.”

Apollo shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We all have good reasons to hate Kristoph Gavin.” He looked up suddenly. “And, thanks, by the way. Both of you. No one would have found the poisoned stamp if it wasn’t for your detection spray.”

If their wide eyes were any indication, Ema and Clay hadn’t even considered their role in uncovering Kristoph’s crimes. Ema looked particularly stunned—Apollo guessed that, as an aspiring forensic scientist, it was probably something special to have her analysis help an actual case.

Clay, for his part, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I wonder if we can get extra credit for that…”

~~~

Apollo lingered with Clay and Ema in the dining hall until it was time for the Pre-Law Society meeting. Both of them asked if they should come—Clay was still very determined to be a murder victim, and Ema was all on fire for forensics after learning how her detection solution had been useful—but Apollo dissuaded them. He was determined that this meeting be a short one, and they didn’t really need to start working on mock trial evidence quite yet.

When Apollo arrived, the chatter that had filled the classroom ceased right away. The entire club was already in attendance (minus Klavier) and everyone looked at Apollo, expectant.

“Not a word,” he said. “Not a word about Kristoph Gavin. Got it?”

Everyone nodded mutely, and Apollo let out a breath.

Simon spoke up from the first row. “Is Klavier alright?”

Apollo grimaced. “He’s…pretending he’s alright.”

“Can we help?” Athena piped up. “If he talks about it—”

Apollo shook his head. “Maybe sometime, but today…just pretend everything is okay, for now.”

“We just want him to know he’s not alone.” Apollo turned to see Sebastian and was surprised to see there were tears in his classmate’s eyes. “He’s really…not alone. We’re all here for him and…we understand.”

Sebastian especially, Apollo recalled. If anyone understood what it was like to be betrayed like this, it was him. 

“I know,” Apollo said. “I know you do, but right now…”

The door creaked, and he broke off.

“Guten Abend!” Klavier greeted them, with a smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

The room just stared at him. Athena actually winced.

Klavier ignored the tense silence. “Well, I hope you started without me. Lots to do today!”

Apollo took a deep breath and tried to ignore his bracelet’s stranglehold on his wrist. “Right. Um, Juniper? Sebastian made some edits to your script, so if you want to look over that…”

Apollo took the folder out of his bag and handed it over, and Klavier walked past him to discuss the props with Robin. Apollo did his best not to glance after him.

“Apollo,” Athena whispered, leaning over Juniper’s desk to get his attention. “I have the results of the vote.”

“Huh? Oh, our prosecution and defense…but why are you whisper—”

Apollo broke off when faced with two glares, Juniper’s somewhat despairing and Athena’s disappointed. Athena tilted her head meaningfully towards Klavier, then down at the paper in her hands.

“Ah.” Of course Klavier would win the vote. He lowered his voice as well. “Yeah, maybe now isn’t the best time—”

But Klavier had already heard. He looked up from the drawings Robin was showing him and smiled.  

“Ah, the stars of our show? Do tell, fräulein.”

Athena sighed, but she couldn’t exactly deny the request.

“The defense and prosecution in our mock trial, respectively, were voted as Apollo Justice and Klavier Gavin.”

Both of us? “Wait—”

“Almost unanimously,” Athena added. “Looks like everyone wants to see you two square off.”

“But the script…and the props, Klavier and I—”

“This is still a rough draft,” Juniper said. “I’ll throw in some twists for you guys.”

“And evidence isn’t always what it seems!” Robin pointed out. “This is going to be awesome—”

“Unless either of you don’t want—” Athena began.

“Well…” Apollo said, glancing at Klavier. “Maybe…”

He found an arm thrown over his shoulder before he could finish, and Klavier leaning in close.

“What is it, schatz? Worried you won’t be able to go all-out now that we’re dating?”

The room fell completely silent for two full seconds.

“You’re DATING?!?” Robin burst out finally. “Since when?!”

Klavier flipped a hand through his bangs. “Ach, I believe it was late Sunday night when Herr Forehead finally accepted my advances?”

“Oh, my,” Juniper said.

“About time,” Simon grumbled. Beside him, Nahyuta looked similarly unsurprised.

“I’m…happy for you guys?” Sebastian ventured. He looked bewildered, and Apollo couldn’t blame him.

“Klavier…” he protested. He cast his eyes around desperately and settled on Athena.

She gave him a helpless shrug and mouthed, “Congratulations?”

Apollo sighed. Klavier’s charm was irresistible—he had effectively distracted the club from one of the the district’s most shocking cases in recent memory with a smile and a wink. In any other circumstance, there was no way the club wouldn’t have spent the entire night talking about Phoenix Wright’s latest turnabout. But Klavier wouldn’t let them—or rather, Apollo could imagine that even if they did start talking about the day’s trial, he would join in as if it were any other, as if he had no personal stake in what had happened. And that would have been so painful to watch—literally, in Apollo’s case—that he was glad he had banned the topic.

As it was, even Apollo had to look very hard to see the shadow lurking behind his eyes.

It makes one wonder, he thought, how he got so good at this.

“Then it’s settled,” Klavier was saying. “Apollo and I will take care of logistics, and the rest of you can put together a case that will bring the house down.”

“Isn’t that a little unfair—” Apollo began.

“We did vote for you,” Sebastian pointed out somewhat uneasily. “Although that was before…”

“Right!” Athena interrupted. “We’ll take care of it, prez!”

When eight o’clock hit, everyone gathered up their papers and plans and filed out, wishing each other well on upcoming tests and promising to make study plans as they departed. Apollo and Klavier were left alone.

“Gotta run,” Klavier said. “Gavinners rehearsal.”

“No.”

Klavier paused in the doorway. “Hm?”

“I said, no.” Apollo met his eyes. “You’re not going to rehearsal.”

“Apollo, Daryan will—”

“Daryan will suck it up. Actually, Daryan will understand. Do you even have rehearsal? You were just recording yesterday.”

“We wanted to go over—” Klavier protested, but Apollo just held up his left wrist.

“Don’t try it,” he said.

Klavier huffed. “I’m fine, Apollo.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.” Klavier paused, and suddenly his shoulders slumped. “I have to be. I have to.”

Apollo took a step towards him. “Klavier, everyone understands—”

“He’s not taking this away from me,” Klavier interrupted. “I’ve worked so hard…for all of this. For Ivy, for the Gavinners, for this club, for you…I’m not letting him take it away.”

Apollo’s brow wrinkled. “He isn’t—nothing will change just because you take some time to—”

“No! If I…have a breakdown, or take a few days off, that’s just…that just means I couldn’t handle it. That just means he was right all along—”

“What do you mean—”

“I told you!” Klavier cried. “I was going to beat him one day, remember? In court, to prove I could do it. That I could have everything…the band, and law and whatever else…I needed to prove it and if I stop now, that means he was right, and how will I face him if—”

“Face him? You don’t need to face him!”

Klavier looked up sharply, his eyes blazing. “He’s my brother, Apollo. If he is to be tried, convicted, and executed, I will be going to see him. And it will not be as the sniveling wreck I was this afternoon.”

“Fine,” Apollo sighed. “But he’s not here right now, Klavier. I am.”

Klavier blinked, and something in his eyes seemed to sharpen.

“Yes. You are,” he said. His voice was startlingly detached. “But you know, Apollo, I’m actually pretty smart.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “What? Yeah, I know. What does—”

“How long have you known?”

Apollo froze. “What?”

Klavier’s eyes were like ice. “Ah, see, that was actually a bluff. But you did know, didn’t you?”

“Klavier, I…”

“How long?”

“Since Sunday,” Apollo replied. “Just…since Sunday.”

“Hm.” Klavier’s expression was unreadable. “Well, in that case, there is no need to carry on this charade, then, is there?”

Apollo’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

Klavier inspected his nails. “I can understand how it would be difficult to reject someone who was about to discover that his brother is a murderer.”

A chill settled in Apollo’s heart. “Wh…wait, Klavier, that doesn’t—that has nothing to do with this!” He wanted to be offended, but more than that, he was afraid of how empty Klavier’s voice sounded. “I didn’t agree to date you out of pity!”

“No?” Klavier laughed humorlessly. “Then why—” Klavier cut himself off, shaking his head. “No, never mind. It doesn’t matter. But please don’t feel obligated to stay just because—”

“Don’t pretend you believe what you’re saying,” Apollo cut in. When Klavier only stared, eyes burning, Apollo held up his left wrist, so Klavier could see how his bracelet pressed into the skin. “I know you don’t. This has been like this all night. My fingers are getting tingly.”

Klavier stared a moment longer, then dropped his gaze. “Then perhaps you should go elsewhere,” he said coldly.

Apollo shook his head helplessly. “Klavier, I don’t understand—”

“Why I’m upset? You kept from me—”

“No!” Apollo interrupted. “Not that. I don’t understand why you’re acting like him!”

Klavier went still. His expression was blank. For what seemed like an eternity, neither of them breathed.

“Good night, Apollo.” Klavier’s voice was crisp. He swept out the door.

For a moment, Apollo stood paralyzed.

“Shit.”

He pounded one fist on a desk. It hurt.

~~~

Apollo went back to his dorm room. Clay wasn’t around, so there was no one to stop him from pacing restlessly in the center of the floor.  

He had considered running after Klavier immediately, but he knew with certainty that his apologies wouldn’t be heard. Besides, he needed some time to cool down, himself. He wasn’t angry, exactly—well, that wasn’t right. He was angry—at Kristoph. Not just for the people he had killed, but for whatever he had done to convince Klavier that this cool, unruffled persona had some kind of inherent strength.

Apollo’s bracelet left a ring around his wrist once it finally relaxed. But as much as that hurt, he knew Klavier was hurting even more. Apollo couldn’t deny that there could be some merit to putting on a brave face, but it was one thing to acknowledge one’s problems and defy them with a shout of “I’m fine,” and quite another to refuse to admit the problems even existed.

Apollo didn’t want to push, but he didn’t want Klavier to deal with this alone, either.

He let an hour go by before starting the walk to the Gavinners house. Daryan met him at the door.

“I’m under strict orders not to let you in,” he said, as he opened the door and gestured Apollo inside. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

Daryan gave a humorless laugh as he shut the door behind him. “As a future detective, I figured I might as well get a head start at ignoring the prosecutor’s orders and giving meddling defense attorneys free reign.”

“Ha. Thanks, Daryan.”

“Don’t mention it. But, uh.” He led Apollo to the kitchen and they both sat at the table. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“Unghgh,” Apollo moaned. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. “I said he was acting like Kristoph,” he mumbled.

Daryan was silent for a moment. “Well, shit, man. What the fuck did you go saying that for?”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t rub it in.”

“That’s like, the biggest contradiction of Klavier’s life. You don’t just go mentioning it.”

“…what?”

“He puts all his effort into being different from Kristoph and then when he’s upset he turns into Kristoph.” Daryan elaborated. “I know it’s tempting, especially when Kristoph is the one he’s mad at, but, man, I thought you were smart.”

“I’m gonna fix it,” Apollo retorted. “…somehow.”

“Well, he’s upstairs,” Daryan said, leaning back in his chair. Apollo looked at him.

“What?”

Daryan raised an eyebrow. “You told him that he was acting like his murderer brother. You can’t just let that one sit.”

Apollo heaved a sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

He climbed the stairs with heavy steps. At Klavier’s door, he lifted a hand to knock, then decided to just go in. It wasn’t like he was about to listen if Klavier told him to go away.

Klavier was sitting on his bed, computer in his lap, leaning against his Blue Badger plush as he read something on his screen. He was wearing a Gavinners shirt—the same one that Apollo had received as a Christmas gift, with a purple-tinted rendering of his face on it. His hair was loose and fell around his shoulders in gentle waves.

Figures, Apollo couldn’t help but think, I end up with the prettiest boyfriend in the world and manage to screw it up within two days.

Klavier looked up at the sound of the door opening. He met Apollo’s eyes for a moment, his expression neutral.

“Ja?” he said at last.

It struck Apollo suddenly that this look was a carefully constructed rebellion. Hair down, no glasses, a band t-shirt with his own face on it, “ja?” with even more of a contrived accent than usual…it was all exactly the opposite of anything Kristoph Gavin would ever do. Apollo sighed.

“Fine,” he said, glancing over the entire ensemble. “You’re not like him.”

Klavier just blinked at him, slowly. Okay, not getting off the hook that easily, I guess.

Closing the door behind him, Apollo leaned against it. He looked down at his feet, gathering his thoughts.

“If I had stopped you on Sunday night, to tell you about him,” he said at last, “would you have believed me?”

Klavier was quiet for a moment. “What evidence did you have?”

“Intuition. A drawing. A stamp.”

He glanced to Klavier and caught his eyes. Klavier bit his lip and looked away.

“No,” he replied finally. “I wouldn’t have.”

Apollo looked down again and nodded. “Okay.”

“And I hate myself for that.”

Apollo held his breath.

“It wouldn’t have mattered what you had, or what you said. Even right until the end, I…” Klavier broke off with a sigh. “I think I still don’t believe it, not completely, even now…”

Apollo raised his eyes. Klavier had put his laptop to the side and was staring at his hands.

“To me, Kristoph was always the best,” he said. “Always. Even when we were arguing, even when I was furious with him, there was a part of me saying that he was right. That I would be a better lawyer without the band. That I would have to abandon any glimmer of idealism if I hoped to succeed in this career. After all, look at him—utterly devoted to his job, impeccable in every imaginable way…obviously, he’s right.”

Klavier twisted one of his rings. “Even when we argued, I could always come to understand his reasoning eventually, even if I didn’t agree. Sometimes, it took time—the first time I remember him getting a murderer off the hook, that took…years, before I could understand why. And I didn’t fault him for it, for doing his job well. And that’s what scares me. I can’t help but think there’s a reason, and maybe someday I’ll understand it and then I’ll—”

“No,” Apollo interrupted. “Don’t.”

“But—”

“No.” Apollo stepped away from the door and stood in front of Klavier. “Understanding him doesn’t make you the same as him. And honestly? I don’t think you will. Not this time.”

Klavier didn’t look up. “No…maybe not. But that…that scares me, too. To realize that maybe I never knew him at all.”

Apollo moved Klavier’s laptop out of the way so he could sit beside him, with just their shoulders touching.

“I’m sorry,” Apollo said. “For not telling you. And especially for what I said earlier. And…I want to be here for you, but I understand if you need space, or—”

“Oh, quiet,” Klavier sighed, resting his head on Apollo’s shoulder. “Liebling, I was being stupid. I’m sorry, too.”

Hesitantly, Apollo slipped an arm around his waist, and Klavier snuggled closer.

It was a huge relief that Klavier wasn’t angry at him. Apollo couldn’t imagine going through this knowing that he might have made things worse, and that Klavier was suffering alone.

“What’s ‘liebling’?” he asked, after a moment.

Klavier chuckled. “Darling, love.” He lifted his head so he could look at Apollo. “You never asked me about ‘schatz.’”

“I Googled that one.”

“Ah, after my note?”

“Mmhm.”

“And then dear Kris banned me from his office,” Klavier sighed.

“Banned you?”

“Ja, effectively. There were, ah…tuition threats.”

Apollo turned. “What? Seriously?”

“Empty ones, really. It wouldn’t do for me to drop out and become a true disappointment.” Klavier gave a bitter smile. “But, even so. It behooved me to listen.”

He sighed suddenly and squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head on Apollo’s shoulder again.

“Gott,” he muttered. “When will I start hating him? I should, already, but I…”

“Don’t worry,” Apollo assured him. “I hate him enough for the both of us right now.”

“Danke,” Klavier murmured.

They stayed like that for a while, Klavier with his head resting on Apollo’s shoulder, not saying anything.

After a few minutes, Klavier stirred. “Apollo, hand me my computer?”

The laptop still rested at the end of the bed. “Oh, sure.” Apollo glanced at the screen as he passed it over. “Were you doing homework?”

“It was a good distraction,” Klavier said simply, taking the computer, snapping it shut, and placing it on his bedside table. “But now I have a better one.”

A moment later, he was straddling Apollo’s lap and cupping his jaw in one hand. Apollo blinked.

“Klavier…” he began uncertainly, “we don’t have to…”

“Nonsense, schatz. I finally have you where I want you.” He smiled. “I appreciate your company more than I can express, but I would also very much like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

Apollo supposed it was.

It wasn’t long before the wall behind Apollo’s head started to get uncomfortable, and he nudged Klavier off his lap so Klavier was leaning back against his Blue Badger plush instead—the face of which Apollo kept glancing at out of the corner of his eye. The enormous eyes had a way of catching his attention against his will.

“Klavier,” he sighed finally, sitting back, “why do you have this thing?”

Klavier giggled. “I won it,” he said proudly.

“Okay, congratulations, but does it have to be here, now?” The badger stared down at Apollo vacantly.

“I suppose not,” Klavier laughed, pulling the toy out from behind him and placing it on the floor, where it toppled over face-down. Klavier leaned back against the rest of his pillows and stretched languidly, looking up at Apollo through half-closed eyes. “Better?”

The absence of the badger put them in a significantly more horizontal position. Apollo swallowed.

“You know, it’s tacky to wear shirts with your own face on them?” he managed to say, looking down at the winking Klavier on Klavier’s chest.

“Is it? Well, that’s another problem easily rectified.” Klavier pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor as well. “Any more criticisms, liebling?”

Okay, should’ve expected that one, Apollo admitted to himself. His eyes wandered Klavier’s bare torso without him entirely meaning them to, and when he finally met Klavier’s eyes again, Klavier was grinning.

“Shut up,” Apollo muttered, and leaned down to kiss him.

Apollo’s kiss was gentle, but Klavier seemed dissatisfied with this. He pressed back harder, capturing Apollo’s lower lip between his, coaxing Apollo’s mouth open and sliding their tongues against one another. His hands slipped beneath the hem of Apollo’s shirt and traced along his spine as he pulled him closer and ground their hips together. Apollo shivered.

“Klavier,” he murmured, breaking away for a moment. “Are you su—”

“I want to think only of you, schatzi,” Klavier interrupted. “Please.”

“But…”

Klavier rested his head back against the pillows and met Apollo’s eyes. “Unless you would rather not—I’m sorr—”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Heat was already racing through Apollo’s veins and settling low in his stomach. “I just want to make sure…”

“I told you. I’m not letting him take anything away from me,” Klavier said. He lifted a hand to Apollo’s cheek. “Least of all this. Distract me for a while, bitte?”

Apollo didn’t really need much convincing. Even so, he paused.

“Oh, so is that all I am to you?” he asked, with mock offense.

Klavier met his gaze. “Apollo, you are everything to me.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, give it a rest. I’m already charmed, remember?”

He kissed Klavier’s ensuing laughter from his lips, and Klavier pulled him closer.

“I’m going to hold you to that, though,” Apollo murmured when they broke apart for a breath.

“Hm?”

“Only think about me.”

Klavier exhaled shakily. “You all but guarantee it, talking like that,” he replied.

Apollo pressed a kiss to the crook of Klavier’s jaw, then to his neck. His hands traced the lines of Klavier’s torso, and after a moment, Klavier seemed to grow irritated with Apollo’s shirt for preventing him from doing the same, and it was clumsily removed. He trailed his hands over Apollo’s ribcage as Apollo lavished attention on his neck, relishing the way he could feel Klavier’s hum of approval under his lips.

He could have spent eternity like that, studying the topography of Klavier’s skin, noting the places that drew gasps from his lips, but Klavier interrupted him by fiddling with the button on Apollo’s jeans, and Apollo took the cue to send them to join the shirt on the floor. Klavier’s soon followed.

For a moment, Apollo was captivated by Klavier stretched out in front of him. His hair was in complete disarray, spilling over the pillows like a pale sunburst, and a pink flush was dusted over his cheeks and neck. Klavier looked up at him with similar awe, eyes wide and lips parted, and they met each other’s eyes for a long second before Klavier pulled him down into another wet kiss, and there wasn’t room in his head to think about anything but the liquid warmth of Klavier’s lips and the way his hips rocked up to meet Apollo’s. The friction was dazzling—Apollo gasped, then groaned as Klavier freed him of his boxers and maneuvered out of his own briefs, and the sensation of heated skin on skin overwhelmed him.

It wasn’t exactly elegant, when Apollo took both of them in one hand and stroked, but the arch of Klavier’s neck as he came, gasping Apollo’s name, more than made up for it, and Apollo quickly followed, the electricity in his veins cresting then dissolving to comfortable, tired warmth. He relaxed by Klavier’s side, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his face and pressing their lips together.

“Here,” Klavier murmured when they parted, reaching over to his bedside table for a few tissues to clean them up. Then he sat up reluctantly, smiling at Apollo’s grumbled protests. “Contacts,” he explained, gesturing to his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” He rooted around in a drawer for some sweatpants, then disappeared into the hallway.

Apollo burrowed into the warm sheets and readjusted his boxers, and it was only a minute before Klavier joined him again, slipping easily into his arms and resuming their kiss. It was cramped in Klavier’s bed, but Apollo couldn’t be bothered to care—he wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep tonight without Klavier too-close beside him, within his reach.

“I love you,” Apollo said, when the thought occurred to him that he hadn’t actually said as much that evening. “You know I’m not just saying that, right?”

Klavier sighed. “I know,” he replied. “I’m sorry for suggesting otherwise.”

“We both said some stupid things,” Apollo admitted. “I—”

“Shh,” Klavier interrupted. “It’s forgotten, schatzi.”

Apollo decided not to argue. He didn’t want to think about Kristoph at all right now, even in the context of an apology. Instead, he absently traced shapes on Klavier’s back, and Klavier tipped his head to kiss him again, softly. But there was an edge to it, something almost desperate, and when they parted, Klavier let out a breath that was caught between a laugh and a sob.

“This is so—gott, Apollo, I’m half-convinced I’m imagining this. Dreaming, trying to forget.”

Apollo tilted his head to catch Klavier’s eyes. “How can I convince you that you’re not?”

At that, and the small smirk on Apollo’s lips, Klavier seemed entirely caught off guard. He blinked. “Um.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Apollo remarked, nudging Klavier onto his back and hovering over him, brushing back an errant strand of his hair with one finger.

He could see Klavier’s blush even in the faint light coming from a streetlamp outside the window.

“Now I’m certain I’m imagining it,” Klavier said faintly. Apollo pouted.

“Rude,” he muttered. “I try to be smooth for once in my life…” He moved as if to roll away to the other side of the bed, but Klavier caught him.

“Nein, schatzi, please, I would love to be convinced.” His lips were curved in an amused smile, but his eyes were intense. “Although…are you sure you can outdo my imagination?”

“I guess I’ll just have to try,” Apollo returned, grinning, and leaned down to capture his lips.

~~~

When Apollo opened his eyes the next morning, Klavier was already awake. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and he looked exhausted.

Apollo lifted his head. “Did you sleep?” he asked softly, shifting closer. Klavier glanced in his direction, then resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.

“Not much,” he admitted. “I’ve been prosecuting my brother in my head.”

Apollo frowned. “Why?”

Klavier heaved a sigh. “Because I can’t turn off my brain, and because he’ll be out of police custody in a few days, at the most.”

Apollo, who had been in the process of wrapping his arms around Klavier again, froze. “What?”

“The suspicions against him were enough to get Wright cleared by the jurists, but there is still no evidence to directly implicate Kristoph in any murders or attempted murders. He’ll be disbarred for presenting forged evidence, but now I think I may have been optimistic when I spoke of him being convicted, let alone…executed.” His voice shook on the final word.

“But…they can’t just let him…”

“Apollo,” Klavier said, a sad smile on his face. “You are the second-best pre-law student in our year. You understand the rules.” He paused. “You’re lucky no one has arrested you, given what’s on that stamp.”

“But…that’s…” Impossible, he wanted to say. Kristoph was obviously guilty, he had killed two people and attempted to kill a third, there was no way they could just let him walk free—but he knew Klavier was right. The trial yesterday had only established Phoenix’s innocence, and it hadn’t even come close to cementing Kristoph’s guilt.

Klavier watched this realization dawn on Apollo’s face. “You see why sleep eluded me.”

“Fuck,” Apollo swore. “You should have woken me up!”

Klavier smiled and turned to face him. “And commit a criminal act? Nein, schatzi, I couldn’t. You’re adorable when you sleep.”

Apollo frowned skeptically—Klavier wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Can you even see me?”

Klavier chuckled. “You’re an adorable blur,” he amended, brushing Apollo’s bangs off his forehead.

Despite his visual impairment, his lips found Apollo’s, and Apollo let the morning’s unsettling revelation slip to the back of his mind for a moment.

“Are we going to class today?” Apollo asked when they reluctantly broke apart.

Klavier considered this. “Well, I did do all my homework.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Apollo, I am aghast.”

“Yeah, whatever. Well, if you’re gonna guilt me into going, then I need to go shower first.” He sat up and searched around the sheets for his shirt. Once he found it and put it on, he looked down at Klavier again. “Are you going to be okay?”

Klavier nodded. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Apollo gave him one last quick kiss, donned his jeans, and left.

Back in his room, Clay was halfway through his morning routine. He looked up when Apollo entered, his expression conflicted.

“I should be, like, high-fiving you for finally spending a night with Klavier,” he said. “Which I still want to do”—he held up a hand, which Apollo halfheartedly slapped—“but…how’s he doing?”

Apollo took a deep breath and sat on his bed. “It’s hard to tell.”

Clay patted him on the back and sat beside him. “And how are you?”

Apollo gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been running on adrenaline for the past three days and now…” He remembered his and Klavier’s topic of conversation that morning. “Now it’s all run out, but I still need it.”

“What?”

“Klavier doesn’t think the police will have enough to hold Kristoph.”

“You mean they might have to release him?!”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” Clay shook his head. “That stamp had atroquinine on it!”

“And that stamp had no concrete connection to Kristoph,” Apollo reminded him. “Just to me.”

“So…so, what? Is he just gonna be free to walk around?”

“He’ll be disbarred,” Apollo said. “But otherwise, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Apollo felt absolutely drained after the past few days, but the more he thought about the current situation, the angrier he got. In class, his notes were just brainstormed lists of everything he knew about the interconnected incidents of the past months, trying to find just one string that tied them all together and to Kristoph.

When he met Klavier at lunch, Klavier’s expression matched the furious determination that Apollo felt.

“Come to the detention center with me after lunch,” Klavier said. His voice was firm, but Apollo’s bracelet still twitched.

Even so, Apollo gave a decisive nod. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

The idea of seeing Kristoph face-to-face terrified him, and he bet that it terrified Klavier even more. But they weren’t finding answers in the evidence—and when evidence was lacking, testimony was the second-best thing.

The ride downtown was a little more harrowing for Apollo than his previous journeys on Klavier’s motorcycle had been—he wasn’t sure if this was how Klavier usually rode, or if he felt extra urgency today, but either way, Apollo was a little shaky when they arrived.

Klavier noticed and bit his lip. “Sorry, schatzi. I forgot…”

Apollo waved him off and took a moment to appreciate the feeling of solid ground before steeling himself and glancing at Klavier. Together, they started towards the front entrance of the police station.

But halfway through presenting their IDs to the guard on duty, they were interrupted by the appearance of Miles Edgeworth from the secure door leading to the detention center.  

He looked surprised and not entirely pleased to see them.

“Mr. Justice,” he said, eyes widening. “Mr. Gav—”

“Just Klavier, please, Chief Prosecutor,” Klavier interrupted. Edgeworth nodded.

“Klavier,” he amended, his voice grave. “If you are here to see Kristoph Gavin, then I’m afraid I will have to send you on your way.”

Klavier’s brows drew together. “And why is that?”

“Because he has specifically forbidden certain visitors,” Edgeworth said evenly. He adjusted his glasses, and Apollo’s bracelet squeezed.

“That’s not true,” Apollo burst out.

Edgeworth turned to him and gave him a searching look. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just…you’re lying. Sir,” he added hastily.

For a moment, Edgeworth just looked at him, his gray eyes inscrutable. Then the Chief Prosecutor sighed. “My apologies, Apollo. You’re right.”

Klavier shook his head. “Why—”

“Because, Klavier, I have been questioning him for two hours, and despite the trouble he has caused for a number of people I care about, I have found myself wondering, more than once, if he actually did any of it.” Edgeworth’s eyes were hard. “I have spent six months trying to get to the bottom of this case, and as of yet, I have nothing to show for it but two dead bodies and a girl in the hospital.”

Now Klavier just looked lost. “But…at the very least, the forged evidence…”

“…was received by Mr. Gavin in the mail. He made a mistake presenting it to the court, but he has no idea where it came from, or what well-intentioned individual commissioned it to prove Zak Gramarye innocent.” Edgeworth paused. “Or so he would have us believe.”

Klavier’s mouth fell open. “But that’s…”

“While I would refrain from claiming that evidence is everything,” Edgeworth went on, “I cannot deny that a certain amount of it is required to make a case. And as of yet, we have very little.” He sighed, and Apollo suddenly noticed the faint bags under his eyes. “And that is why I thought it best if you did not see him, Klavier.”

Apollo opened his mouth, but Edgeworth cut him off.

“As for you, Apollo, he has already called for your arrest. I sincerely hope it does not come to that, but the poisoned stamp does bear your fingerprint, and I do not want to give Gavin the opportunity to draw anything remotely resembling a motive from you.”

Dread settled in Apollo’s stomach. “Okay,” he agreed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I appreciate your cooperation.” Edgeworth’s brows scrunched together slightly. “And, erm, Klavier. If there is anything I can do—”

“Danke, Chief Prosecutor,” Klavier interrupted. “But I’m alright.”

 Edgeworth took a breath and nodded. “I’m sorry, both of you. I promise I will do everything I can.”

Klavier was quiet as they left the detention center. His brow was creased, and the expression disappeared beneath his helmet has he swung a leg over his motorcycle and started the engine. Apollo had to hop on quickly in order to avoid being left behind.

After a few minutes on the road, Apollo realized that they had diverged significantly from any route that would have led them back to campus.

When Klavier pulled to a stop at a red light, Apollo raised his voice and leaned forward to speak in his ear.

“Klavier, where are we going?”

“Home,” Klavier answered simply, and revved the engine.

Apollo didn’t realize what Klavier meant by “home” until they had left the city behind and were growling through the quiet, tree-lined streets of a well-manicured suburban neighborhood. They pulled up in front of a large cast-iron gate, and Klavier entered a code on a keypad.

Home.

“Don’t get too excited,” Klavier said as he parked in front of a garage and turned off the engine. “I didn’t grow up here. Kristoph bought this house after my parents passed, and I only lived here for a few years of high school.” He led Apollo up the front walk to a heavy wooden door. “So don’t expect to see any embarrassing baby pictures lying around.”

Klavier slid the key into the lock, and the door swung open. He took a moment to disarm the security system, then kicked off his boots and started down the hallway.

From further inside the house, there was a click of claws against the dark hardwood floors, followed by a low whine.

“Oh, Vongole, schatzi, you must be starving,” Klavier sighed, as a Golden Retriever mournfully stepped into view, tail wagging slowly.

“Should I be insulted that the dog and I have the same nickname?” Apollo asked. The dog had recognized Klavier, and her tail-wagging had kicked up a notch. She paced excitedly and let out a quiet boof.

“Oh, shush.” Klavier knelt and Vongole charged into his arms, sniffing him enthusiastically. “Ja, ja, let’s get you fed, come on.”

Klavier filled a dog bowl with food, and Vongole set upon her lunch with zeal.

“She’s really quiet,” Apollo noted. The Terrans had had a terrier when Clay was younger, and Apollo remembered the racket he made whenever anyone entered the apartment, familiar or otherwise.

“She’s very well-trained. Kris’s dog, after all.” He smiled. “She’s a sweetheart, though. Much too good for him.”

Vongole finished her meal and trotted over to them, and Klavier bent down to rub her ears.

“Ja, you are, aren’t you?”

Apollo knelt to pet her, as well, and now she took the time to investigate the newcomer, sniffing him all over and wagging her tail furiously, heedless of the way it whapped against the side of the kitchen counter.

“Is this why we’re here?” Apollo asked finally, once Vongole had collapsed at his feet and was blissfully accepting a tummy rub.

“In part,” Klavier said. “The other reason is probably pointless.”

“And that is…?”

“Well, as I already have a key to this house, I don’t exactly need a warrant to snoop around, do I?”

Vongole complained with a soft whine as Apollo paused his tummy rub. “Oh.”

“Like I said, it’s likely to be fruitless. But…no harm in looking.” He looked down at the dog. “But first, I think someone needs a walk.”

Walks apparently outranked tummy rubs, and Vongole clambered to her feet in a hurry, trotting after Klavier as he retrieved her leash from a closet.

“Do you mind?” Klavier asked, looking at Apollo, and Apollo shook his head and followed them back outside.

Vongole pulled them around the neighborhood on what Apollo guessed was her usual walk circuit. The two of them chatted, but not about anything serious—Klavier seemed unwilling to touch on any topics more weighty than classwork or the weather. Apollo didn’t mind, but his bracelet maintained a gentle hold around his wrist. Glancing at Klavier sideways, he reached out and snagged his hand, and the way Klavier gripped back made Apollo sure he had done the right thing.

Back at the house, Klavier hung Vongole’s leash back where it belonged, then paused, still facing the closet. His hands shook.

“Okay,” he said finally. He turned around and gave a sudden smile. “Let’s see what we can find, ja?”

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?” Apollo asked as Klavier left the kitchen.

Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs. “Well, I was hoping to find a letter from Drew Misham, something like, Mr. Kristoph Gavin, here’s the evidence I forged for you, please neglect to burn this so it can be found later by your meddling younger brother.” He paused. “Something like that.”

“So, you have no idea.”

“None.”

“What about you, Clams?” Apollo asked of the dog that had followed them into the next room, which appeared to be the den. A large, polished grand piano stood in one corner.

Vongole offered no response, save a wagging of her fluffy tail, and Apollo wandered over to the piano.

“Does Kristoph play?”

Klavier shook his head. “I do. That was our parents’. They…really liked the piano.”

Apollo frowned. “Why’d you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Klavier, who had been idly examining a bookshelf, turned around. “You…you do know what ‘klavier’ means, don’t you?”

Apollo stared. “Your name…means piano?”

“Oh, Forehead,” Klavier sighed. “And here I thought you were simply too kind to tease me about it.”

“I just…thought it was a pretty name.”

“Wait, schatzi, let me take it back. Pretend you didn’t hear that. It’s a pretty name and nothing more.”

“Piano…Gavin…”

“You see why I had to take up guitar,” Klavier grumbled.

“Piano…”

“You’ve made your point, Apollo.”

“Hey, you’ve been calling me Mr. Forehead for months, I think it’s high time I be given something to counter with.”

“…I suppose that’s fair.”

“At least Kristoph didn’t name you, right, Clams?” Vongole perked up. “She…actually responds to Clams?”

Klavier snickered. “That was my doing. Kris hates me for it.” A moment after he spoke, his face fell. “Ach…I almost forgot, for just a moment.”

Apollo’s smile disappeared, too. “Sorry—”

“No, no.” Klavier sunk into an armchair. “It isn’t your fault. It’s just…an adjustment.” He drew a shaky breath. “If we find anything here, he will hate me far more than he did after I instilled a new Pavlovian response in his dog.”

Apollo sighed and sat in another armchair, on the other side of a small table from the one Klavier occupied. He held out a hand across the table, and Klavier took it. Vongole, with a soft whine, rested her head on Klavier’s knee.

The three of them were quiet for a minute, as Klavier stroked Vongole’s head. Finally, he sighed.

“I wish it actually looked like everything changed,” he said. “I almost wanted to come here and find that there were spiderwebs on all the bookshelves and skeletons in the closet, something. But it’s just…the same. And Kris…it’s better that Herr Edgeworth turned us away. Because he would probably be the same, too.”

He cast his eyes around the room, at the oak bookshelves and the Persian rug, his eyes finally falling on the piano. “This place isn’t particularly nostalgic for me,” he admitted. “But Kristoph enjoyed it when I played. He would read, while I practiced…I still did recitals for piano, when I was in high school. Just classical music, so he liked it.

“It’s not a common arrangement, living only with your older brother,” he went on. “It was good that I went away after the accident, and we had some time apart. I think if we were left alone together, right after…I really might have ended up a perfect copy. But I had two years with a regular family, before coming to live here.”

“What were they like?”

“Kind,” Klavier said simply. “Not the warmest of people, but they never got angry when I tried to compose music with Daryan over video chat at ungodly hours of the night.”

Apollo laughed. “How did that work out?”

“Oh, terribly. The pre-Gavinners days are best forgotten.” He smiled slightly. “Those were good years, though.”

He looked up, around the dim library. “Kristoph was different when I got back, and so was I. We…diverged, I think. We argued a lot. But…I never stopped looking up to him.”

Apollo squeezed his hand, and Klavier took a deep breath.

“But we didn’t come here for me to reminisce.” He stood. “Shall we go upstairs?”

At the top of the dark wooden staircase, Klavier seemed to make a beeline for a door at the end at the hall, but Apollo looked around curiously. He paused in front of a door that was cracked open and pushed it. Klavier turned at the sound of the creak.

“Ah ha ha, ja. That’s mine.”

The room was pretty spare, but it made sense that Klavier would have most of his personal effects at the Gavinners house, not here. Even so, there were traces remaining—a guitar pick left on the desk, a stack of bound notebooks, a bookshelf that was half-full, with a couple of Sherlock Holmes volumes and a handful of battered Poirot paperbacks. There was also a purple sweatshirt resting over the back of a chair, which Klavier snatched up as soon as he saw it.

“I have been asking him for months if I left this here,” he snapped. “I guess he couldn’t be bothered to look.”

But the flash of anger in his eyes died in a moment. Apollo could see him remembering again, trying to reconcile normal brotherly squabbles with the reality of what Kristoph had done. Klavier’s hands tightened on the sweatshirt, and he cast his eyes around the room, as if looking for something to remark on that wasn’t tied to Kristoph in some way—but of course, they were in Kristoph’s house, and he seemed to come up blank.

Apollo’s eyes caught on a frame resting on a chest of drawers. He moved to take a closer look.

“Hey, you told me I wouldn’t get to see any embarrassing pictures,” Apollo said.

In the framed photograph, Klavier couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. He was smartly dressed in a button-down and a tie, but the teeth of his wide smile were crooked, and his hair was short—someone had made an effort to comb it, but a few stubborn pieces stuck up. The Kristoph sitting beside him was a teenager, with straight blond hair hanging to just above his shoulders—he wasn’t smiling, but his expression was more neutral than anything. The woman who stood with a hand on his shoulder had sandy hair and a slight smile that reminded Apollo of Kristoph now, while the man who stood behind Klavier looked strikingly like both Gavin brothers, down to the twist of his hair. His smile was like Klavier’s, though, wide and carefree.

“So that’s where the hair comes from,” Apollo mused, as Klavier moved to stand beside him.

“Yes,” Klavier said quietly. “We both grew ours out, after…entirely independently, too.”

“You look just like him.”

When Apollo turned, Klavier was swallowing thickly.

“That’s rare for me to hear that these days,” he said after a pause.

Apollo reflected that Klavier was probably told he looked like Kristoph far more often. But Kristoph really looked more like his mother, he thought.

Struck by an impulse, Apollo reached out and snagged Klavier’s waist, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You know if you ever want to talk about any of this, I’m here,” he said into Klavier’s shoulder. “I know what it’s like to bury things like this.”

Klavier clung to him. “Then you also know how difficult it is to dig them back up,” he replied softly. “But thank you, liebling. I will try. I am trying.”

And Apollo got the sense that he was. Even in just talking about Kristoph, Klavier was making a conscious effort to prevent his brother from sinking into the same dark corner of his mind as his parents.

“And the same goes for you, schatzi,” Klavier said after a pause, shifting slightly in Apollo’s arms. “For your buried things. I’m here to listen.”

Apollo bit back a reflexive I’m fine. It was a little hypocritical of him, wasn’t it? He nodded, and Klavier squeezed him tighter.

When they returned to the hallway, Klavier made straight for the door at the far end. Apollo followed more slowly—the door was dark wood, almost black in the dim hall light. It seemed strangely menacing. Even Vongole’s tail stopped wagging as they approached.

“What’s that?” Apollo asked, trying not to sound as apprehensive as he felt.

“Kris’s study. If there’s anything…it would be in here.”

For a moment, Klavier just stood before the door, steeling himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he reached out to turn the handle.

The knob rattled, but it didn’t move.

“Ah.” Klavier seemed to deflate. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the dark wood. “Locked.”

Of course it was. It would have been too easy, to be able sift through Kristoph’s belongings, to try to get the answers that the man himself wouldn’t give. Apollo almost felt stupid for having been hopeful.

“We should have brought Trucy,” he said.

Klavier looked at him sideways, still leaning against the wood. “What?”

“She knows how to pick locks. Or so she says.”

“Ah.”

They were quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry, Klavier.”

Klavier clenched his teeth and sucked in a breath. The next second, Apollo jumped as Klavier slammed a fist against the door.

Vongole, startled, let out one sharp bark.

“I’m so useless!” Klavier hissed, his fist clenched against the wood, knuckles white. His shoulders shook.

“Klavier…”

“If I was just…he had his own firm by the time he was twenty-four, you know? Was working for another lawyer a year before that, skipped a ton of grades just to make it to that point…and I could have, too, but I had friends and I wanted to travel and maybe if I hadn’t been so selfish, then I’d have a badge by now and I could do something.”

Apollo gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “The people with badges aren’t doing much better than we are, right now,” he pointed out, his voice quiet.

Klavier made a strangled sound. “But I…if I could just…”

“You can’t take responsibility for all of this,” Apollo said. “You can’t.”

He noticed one of Klavier’s hands was still resting on the doorknob, and carefully pried it away. It trembled in his grasp.

Klavier slumped. He turned, his back to the door now, and slid down to the floor, tugging his knees up to his chest and hiding his face.

“It’s just…I know it,” he said shakily. “I know this all another…goddamn test.”

Apollo, kneeling down beside him, felt a chill. “…what?”

“By now I should be better at this, I should know—there’s an answer, there has to be. There always is, even if I can’t—even if I’m too stupid to see it. And this time, it’s—I should have known, I should have known—” He inhaled through his teeth. “Stupid, stupid to think he would ever stop—”

Apollo felt like his heart was breaking. Klavier’s voice had an unstable quality to it, like a stretched elastic ready to snap, and it was terrifying Apollo to his core.

 “If I can just find it, he’ll—he’ll—” Klavier’s breath hitched. “Maybe he’ll come back and b-be my brother again, maybe—”

“Hey, Klavier,” Apollo said softly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fact that his heart was leaping in his throat. He rested a hand tentatively on Klavier’s back and kept it there when Klavier didn’t flinch away. “Try to breath, okay? It’s okay. I’m here.”

Apollo took a slow, steady breath for Klavier to imitate, but it took a lot of effort—internally, he was burning with white-hot fury. The fact that Kristoph could make Klavier feel this way made him want to jump on the motorcycle outside, return to the detention center, push past Miles Edgeworth and punch his former boss in the face. It was unforgivable, he thought, that Kristoph had ever made Klavier think he was anything less than he was.

Klavier’s broken rambling had quieted, and he shakily copied Apollo’s breathing. At long last, the tremors wracking his frame subsided, although it took a few minutes before his eyes seemed to focus again. Apollo stayed beside him, breathing evenly, rubbing slow circles on his back once he was sure Klavier was okay with the contact.

“I’m sorry,” Klavier said finally, his voice muffled. “I’m sorry, you didn’t need to see—”

“Shh, no,” Apollo quieted him. “I’m glad I was here. I’m so glad I was here, Klavier.”

Vongole whined and nosed her way between Klavier’s chest and his legs to rest her head on his lap. He gave a weak chuckle and scratched behind her ears, extending his legs out into the hallway to make room for her.

“Sorry for worrying you, schatzi,” he said.

“It’s ok—oh, you’re talking to the dog,” Apollo realized. Klavier sighed and leaned against his shoulder.

“Sorry for worrying you, schatzi,” he repeated. “Can I make you dinner to make up for it?”

Vongole perked up, and Apollo narrowed his eyes. “…are you still talking to the dog?”

“Nein, to you.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. “It’s getting late, but…I don’t really feel up to riding my bike right now.”

“Oh, okay. But, um…”

“I have been overcome by pettiness, Apollo,” Klavier said. “Let me treat to you a meal courtesy of my brother’s kitchen.”

And suddenly, that seemed like a great idea, if only because he knew Kristoph would hate it. He mustered a smile. “Okay. Yeah.”

It was dark downstairs, now, so Klavier flipped on lights in the kitchen, the den, and every other room, banishing the lingering gloom from the dark wood paneling. He plugged his phone into a stereo and soon the Gavinners filled the house. Apollo decided to let the music choice slide, this time.

Klavier sang along with himself as he cooked, searing some chicken in a pan while Apollo grated some cheese for a sauce. They didn’t talk much, except for Klavier to tell Apollo where he could find certain utensils and directing him to get the special occasion plates out of a cabinet in the dining room. Then they sat at the kitchen counter eating chicken alfredo off of fine china with Kristoph’s nice silverware, the dirty pans all stacked haphazardly in the sink, while Vongole, well-behaved as she was, sat obediently off to the side and watched. She didn’t beg, but Klavier slipped her a piece of chicken anyway.

It was all very petty, as Klavier had said, but it felt fantastic. Because Klavier had been right, earlier—they were useless. It was only luck and coincidence and his magic bracelet that had allowed Apollo to realize what was going on with Kristoph before the trial—now, they could do nothing but wait. So, with the situation slipping out of their control, it was comforting, somehow, to be able to mess up Kristoph’s belongings and spoil his dog, to make the walls of his house vibrate with the bass of what was probably his least favorite music. Childish, maybe, but Apollo couldn’t bring himself to care.

Later, Apollo was bouncing a tennis ball across the hardwood floor for Vongole to chase when he ended up back in the den again, where Vongole had slipped under the piano to retrieve her toy.

Apollo looked over the instrument as Klavier followed him into the room. “Do you still play at all?”

Klavier, after accepting the tennis ball from an eager Vongole, looked up. “Not often. Not unless I’m here, or if I borrow Erik’s keyboard.” He paused, considering the instrument. “I’m not sure where my books are, but I could probably remember…”

He settled on the bench, and Apollo stood beside him, interested.

Klavier lifted his hands to the keyboard, then paused, glancing at Apollo out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you mind sitting over there?” he asked.

“Why?”

Klavier bit his lip. “Because performing on this instrument makes me nervous as fuck.”

Apollo blinked. “Really?”

“Flubbed recitals are traumatic experiences when you’re ten,” Klavier elaborated. “I don’t mind so much if I can pretend you’re actually doing something else, but if you just stand there…”

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to—”

“Nein, nein, go sit. I have to live up to my name, after all.”

Apollo retreated to one of the armchairs and made of show of scratching Vongole behind her ears, pointedly not watching Klavier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Klavier close his eyes for a moment, take a deep breath, and rest his fingers on the keyboard.

The song began slowly and softly, with a methodical quality, as Klavier called the notes to mind. After a while, his muscle memory seemed to take over, and the crease in his brow faded somewhat as he settled into the music. It reappeared occasionally when a note didn’t fall quite right, but Apollo wouldn’t have noticed any mistakes if not for the visual cue.

As the song went on, Klavier did seem to become more comfortable, moving and breathing with the swells of the music, but his expression never lost an edge of intense focus that was absent when he played guitar.

When the final chord faded into silence, Apollo clapped enthusiastically, and Klavier gave an ironic bow with a flourish of one hand.

“That was pretty,” Apollo said. “What was it?”

“Beethoven. Sonata Pathétique, second movement.” Klavier paused, a small frown twisting his lips. “I mutilated the fast part.”

“Stop, it was great. You didn’t sound nervous at all.”

“Ha. Come here.” Apollo crossed the room, and Klavier reached out to take one of his hands, placing it over his chest. His heartbeat was frantic under his ribs. “See?”

“Oh.”

“I got over it with singing and guitar, for whatever reason,” he said. “But this is why the Gavinners don’t have any piano ballads.”

“A shame,” Apollo remarked.

“Hm.” Klavier considered the keys thoughtfully, then depressed an experimental chord, then another. “You know what else is a shame…”

With the third chord, accompanied this time by a few notes of a melody, Apollo recognized the song.

“Oh, no,” he said. “You’re not getting me to sing.”

“You have the perfect voice for it, though,” Klavier sighed. “I don’t do Jove justice.”

“I don’t remember the words to this one,” Apollo protested. ‘Sunlight’ was one of his favorites, but the verses always escaped him.

In response, Klavier dug his phone out of his pocket with one hand, unlocked it, and handed it over, while still vamping through the chords of the song with his other hand. “The internet is a wonderful invention,” he said, catching Apollo’s eye.

Apollo held his gaze for a moment, meeting Klavier’s hopeful expression with a stubborn one, before finally sighing, taking the phone, and navigating to the browser to find a lyrics site. Klavier’s eyes lit up.

Apollo’s heart was already beating a little faster when he found the correct song lyrics. He cleared his throat as Klavier sounded out the intro—Apollo guessed he had never played this on piano before, either, so at least they were on somewhat more even footing.

‘Sunlight’ was a difficult song for Apollo to pin down. It could have been about a lover, he supposed, but he got the sense that it was more generally about someone Jangly Jove simply loved, who he wanted to protect more than anything in the world. In the present moment, Apollo found it very applicable.

As he was unfamiliar with some of the lyrics, Apollo missed a few notes, but so did Klavier—once, they fell apart at the same time, so Klavier cycled back to the beginning of the verse with a quiet laugh and a “let’s try that again.” They nailed it on the second try, and Klavier even jumped in with a harmony for the bridge, cutting the piano part back to basic chords so he could manage it.

Their voices blending together over the simple, bittersweet chords gave Apollo chills. His experience with music was limited—there wasn’t much gratification to be found in a pared-down trumpet part prepared for sixth-grade band—but he could understand why Klavier would want to dedicate so much of his time and effort towards capturing this feeling, when notes and sounds fell into place like the tumblers of a lock and drew a rush of exhilaration from the center of his chest.

“Beautiful,” Klavier murmured, when his lifted his fingers from the keyboard and turned to Apollo. “Please, schatzi, promise you’ll humor me once in a while?”

Apollo was certain his cheeks were blazing red. He looked down at his hands. “I guess. Not in front of anyone, though.”

“I can’t help but think that’s a waste, but I suppose then it will be all the more special,” Klavier conceded. He leaned over to press a kiss to Apollo’s cheek. “One more?”

Unfortunately, ‘Magic’ went catastrophically. The two of them broke down in laughter when Klavier hit a spectacularly wrong chord at the same time that Apollo tried to sing two notes at once. Attempts to pick up the thread of the song again were met by abject failure, and even Vongole barked a protest.

“Well. They can’t all be home runs,” Klavier remarked with a grimace, plunking out a dejected little melody as Apollo coughed to clear out the effects of whatever it was his voice had attempted to do.

“Is this how your rehearsals go, too?” Apollo asked, once he recovered.

“More often than you would expect,” Klavier told him. “Sam is very good at keeping us together, but when they fall apart…”

They both decided that that was enough music for one evening, and later found themselves curled together in Klavier’s bed upstairs, Vongole at their feet, flipping through some of the notebooks that had been on Klavier’s desk. They were travel diaries, it turned out, of Klavier’s time in Germany—half of it a chronicle of the different places Klavier had been, the other half teenage angst and edgy song lyrics that made Klavier cringe but which Apollo found immensely entertaining.

“Oh, gott, this was a terrible idea,” Klavier sighed after Apollo broke out in giggles at another one of Klavier’s half-written songs. He buried his head in Apollo’s shoulder. “Who was I?”

“Oh, don’t worry, you haven’t gotten any less embarrassing,” Apollo told him, his laughter subsiding. “And I love you anyway.”

“Mmgh,” Klavier grumbled into Apollo’s neck, but Apollo could feel him smiling against his skin.

Apollo turned a page, and his eyebrows jumped. “Oh, you drew, too?”

Klavier’s head shot up. “Oh no.”

He snatched the journal, snapped it shut, and threw it across the room. Vongole lifted her head and looked between him and the fallen notebook, as if wondering if she was meant to fetch.

Apollo laughed throughout this entire display. “A little dramatic, Klav.”

“Not at all,” Klavier replied, settling back to Apollo’s shoulder. “That was a perfectly reasonable reaction.”

“Sure, okay.”

Klavier huffed, but Apollo was pretty sure it was to hide a smile.

They lay quietly for a while, and just as Apollo was starting to wonder if they should get back to campus soon, Klavier spoke up.                                                     

“Let’s stay here,” he murmured finally. “It’s late. I don’t want to move.”

Neither did Apollo, but… “Is that a good idea?”

“I’m sure someone will inform us if Kris is released,” Klavier said quietly. “Besides…” he looked at Vongole, snoozing with her head on Apollo’s lap, “it would be a crime for you to get up now.”

“That’s true.” Apollo took his phone out of his pocket and made sure the volume was as loud at it would go, then set it on the nightstand. If Phoenix or Trucy called, he didn’t want to miss it.

With these precautions taken, he replaced his arms around Klavier.

“Hey, Klavier,” he said, after several minutes, “do you want to talk about…what happened earlier? Outside the study?”

For a very long time, Klavier was silent, and Apollo wondered if he had made a mistake bringing it up. Then Klavier snuggled closer, squeezing his eyes shut. He let out a heavy sigh.

“He never said they were tests,” he started, his voice nearly a whisper. “But I…I figured it out, eventually. It was just…he wanted a certain answer. There was always a right answer. And when I didn’t know, he…” Klavier shook his head. “I’m making it sound…worse that it was, it wasn’t really…he wasn’t…he wasn’t bad, Kris wasn’t…” Klavier drew a shuddering breath, and Apollo stroked fingers through his hair, gently. “Things were just…more difficult, if I didn’t pass. Or if I was stubborn.”

Apollo truly didn’t know what to say. He wanted to know what Klavier meant by “more difficult,” but he was a little scared to ask.

“I’m making it sound worse,” Klavier assured him again, as if he could sense what Apollo was thinking. “He really wasn’t…I mean…it wasn’t—” His voice broke and dropped to a hoarse whisper. “It wasn’t like it was…abuse…or anything.” He forced the word out, like it was physically painful to say.

Apollo debated over his next words, but finally decided to voice them. “The people who love you shouldn’t test you, Klavier,” he said.

Klavier clenched his teeth. “I know that,” he choked out finally. “But…I just…I wanted him to acknowledge me. At least that, if he couldn’t…love me…”

Briefly, Apollo marveled over Kristoph Gavin’s ability to become even more detestable to him than he previously thought possible.

“I’m sorry, Klavier,” Apollo murmured. “You don’t deserve this.”

Klavier squirmed. “But—”

“No,” Apollo cut him off. “You don’t. Deserve. This.”

This time, Klavier didn’t protest, but Apollo wasn’t sure if his words had been taken to heart, or if Klavier just didn’t have the energy to argue. Apollo decided to let the subject drop for now—Klavier was probably exhausted, and Apollo didn’t actually know how much sleep he had gotten the night before.

He wasn’t sure if Klavier actually fell asleep or not, but eventually, Apollo had to extract himself from his boyfriend and Vongole so he could go use the bathroom. Klavier stirred when Apollo returned, and Apollo was struck suddenly by the amusing similarity between Klavier, golden hair mussed beyond repair as he lifted his head, and Vongole, who also looked up curiously when Apollo reentered the room. He hid a smile behind his hand. Cute.

“Oh,” Klavier said, once he had brushed his hair out of his face with one hand. “I’m being an awful host…I can get you something to wear. And a spare toothbrush.”

He hopped out of bed and started rummaging in a drawer, emerging with a spare pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for pajamas. Both were a little too big when Apollo put them on, and he might have been irritated to see Klavier’s amused smile, if he wasn’t so glad to see a smile on Klavier’s face in the first place.

“Shush,” he muttered, regardless, and Klavier’s grin only widened.

“I finally got you into a Gavinners shirt,” he said, a note of glee in his voice. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“I have one, you know,” he said, settling back in beside Klavier, who had also changed into something more comfortable, although his shirt didn’t have his own name on it.

Klavier’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yep. Christmas gift from Clay.”

Klavier stared, like he hardly dared believe this was true. “Do you…wear it…?”

“Just as pajamas,” Apollo grumbled. Klavier looked like he had been given an early Christmas present himself. He rolled over so he was supporting himself on one elbow, leaning over Apollo slightly.

“Which one?” he asked, eyes bright.

Apollo scowled up at him. “The one you were wearing last night,” he told him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, but it is, schatzi,” Klavier countered.

“You’re such a narcissist,” Apollo sighed, rolling his eyes. Klavier giggled.

“It’s just nice to know you might have been thinking about me,” he said.

“Of course I was thinking about you. I had a huge crush on you. The shirt had nothing to do with it.” Klavier pouted down at him, and after a moment, Apollo relented. “Besides, this one is better,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

Apollo met his eyes. “Because it’s yours.”

Klavier’s eyes widened slightly, and Apollo had a moment to relish catching him off guard before Klavier leaned in to kiss him.

“You’ll just have to keep it, then,” Klavier said against his lips.

“Already planning on it,” Apollo replied. “Still just pajamas, though,” he added.

“Ah, I knew it,” Klavier murmured, relaxing back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh. “Herr Forehead is ashamed of me.”

“Well, we’ve already established that you’re pretty embarrassing,” Apollo reminded him. “What was that drawing again? Your self-insert OC for which band?”

Klavier closed his eyes and did his best to hide his face. “I’m asleep. I can’t hear you.”

“Hm, okay,” Apollo chuckled. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, schatz.”

Klavier nodded off almost immediately—he really must have been exhausted. But Apollo stayed awake for a while longer, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to Klavier’s even breathing and trying not to think about how, at any moment, this all could shatter.

Another test, Klavier had said. Maybe it was, and Kristoph was sitting in his cell downtown, touching up his nail polish as he waited for them to fail. Just the thought of his smug smile made Apollo’s blood simmer.

What would his answer be? A cleverly chosen piece of forged evidence, constructed to make all the most convenient implications? A touch of deadly poison, slipped between the bars of a cell? If they accepted those solutions, the entire system that so many had struggled to improve would descend into darkness again. Their actions would only justify Kristoph’s, because how else was a defense attorney to succeed in such a world but to fight fire with fire?

Apollo shivered. Kristoph’s solution was unacceptable—it was a relic, a strategy to counter so-called Demon Prosecutors and a corrupt police force. But as long as a few like him remained, could they ever really shake off the shadows of the past?

Apollo’s thoughts circled, but a solution remained out of reach. When sleep finally claimed him, it brought with it a parade of his friends and loved ones, their lips stained a brilliant atroquinine-blue, and a pinched demon’s face that laughed and laughed and laughed.

~~~

Apollo woke to a shrill sound. The room was dim, but not dark—it must have been just around sunrise—and he was momentarily confused as to why a warm, breathing weight was resting on his arm, until he remembered Klavier.

The shrill noise continued, and Apollo finally registered it as his phone ringing. When he did, a shard of ice seemed to pierce his heart, shocking him into wakefulness.

He squinted at the screen.

Trucy Wright

Fumbling with the device, he managed to answer right before the call went to voicemail. Beside him, Klavier was stirring, since Apollo had somewhat abruptly wrenched his arm out from under his head.

“’pollo?” he mumbled, but Apollo was already occupied.

“Trucy?” he said into his phone. “What is it? Is—”

He wasn’t sure what he meant to ask. Is everything okay? Is Kristoph free?

“Apollo!” Trucy cried, and the joy apparent in her voice was, at this moment, extremely perplexing to Apollo. “Vera’s awake!”

Apollo truly thought his heart stopped for a moment. “What?”

“She’s awake! Like, for good, they think! It’s been a whole hour! Phoenix and I just got here, we can’t see her yet but she’s responding to the tests really well!”

“Oh my god, Trucy, that’s…” Apollo felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes. “That’s amazing. That’s…hold on, I’m putting you on speaker…”

“Huh? For who?”

Klavier was still half-asleep. He frowned sleepily when he heard Trucy’s voice project tinnily from the phone.

“Fräulein…?” he murmured. His morning voice was sleepy and nearly unrecognizable, but the German gave him away.

“Klavier!” Trucy exclaimed. “Vera woke up! She’s okay!”

Klavier’s expression went slack, and his mouth fell open slightly. For a moment he just stared at Apollo, his face saturated with disbelief. He let out his breath in a shaky sigh, and it seemed to Apollo like this was a breath he had been holding for weeks, ever since the night of Trucy’s show.

“She’s…okay?” he echoed finally, voice so soft that Apollo wasn’t even sure Trucy would hear.

But she responded with a bright, “Yep!” then paused. “Oh, wait, here’s one of the doctors…” There was the sound of movement and muffled conversation. Apollo and Klavier remained frozen, holding their breath.

“Oh my god,” Trucy said, not really into the phone but close enough that Apollo could hear. His own panicked expression was reflected by Klavier’s as they waited.

“Hold on, Polly, I’m sending you something,” Trucy went on. There was more rustling. Apollo’s heart was in his throat. “Okay, there.”

The volume on Apollo’s phone was still set extra-loud, so Apollo and Klavier both nearly jumped out of bed when it pinged with a new text message alert. Vongole, disturbed from her sleep, gave a soft whine.

Trucy’s message was a photograph. It was a little blurry, distorted not just by motion but by the fact that the object in the picture was enclosed in a clear evidence bag.

Beneath the transparent plastic was a page of a sketchbook. And staring up from that page, outlined in graphite, was Kristoph Gavin.

Vera was an excellent artist—even though her lines were a bit shaky (understandably), the likeness was undeniable. She had perfectly captured Kristoph’s slight smile and the glint of his cold eyes beneath his glasses.

“Did you get it?” Trucy asked urgently. Apollo had almost forgotten she was still on the line.

“Yeah, I did. Trucy, this is…”

“She’s not talking yet,” Trucy went on. “But she wanted to draw. And all the doctors saw her draw it, and Miles took it into evidence immediately, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Right?”

It seemed that Apollo had to make an actual effort to switch the law portion of his brain back on. This was better than a police sketch, and once Vera had fully recovered, there would be a chance to get proper testimony, too. And that could might lead to more evidence…

“R-right, Truce. Yeah. That’s…that’s amazing.” A strange sound welled up from his throat, something between a choked laugh and a sob. “I…thank god. Thank god.” He paused. “Can we see her?”

“Not yet,” Trucy said. “But probably soon? Like I said, it’s been a little while. So you two should come by!”

Apollo realized suddenly that Klavier hadn’t said anything since Trucy sent the picture. He was still staring at the screen, eyes wide and somewhat vacant.

“Okay, yeah,” Apollo said to Trucy. “Um, we’ll come by soon. Thanks for calling, Trucy.”

“Yep! See you soon!”

Apollo hung up and leaned closer to Klavier.

“Are you okay?”

Klavier flinched slightly and blinked. “Um.” His eyes were still fixed on the drawing.

Apollo waited.

Klavier sucked in a breath. “It…it really was him,” he said finally. “I think I still…I wanted to believe…”

Oh.

Apollo rested back on the pillows again, making a space for Klavier in his arms. After a moment, Klavier followed, shrinking into his chest as his shoulders shook with nearly-silent sobs that seemed to tear out of the very center of his being. Apollo felt like his embrace was the only thing keeping Klavier from shattering into pieces, and Vongole, determined to help, squeezed between them, whimpering quietly.

They stayed like that, curled together in the sheets, as the sun rose outside. The light slipping between the blinds caught and tangled in Klavier’s hair as he cried, and Apollo ran his fingers through the golden strands, soothing Klavier as his sobs turned to shaky hiccups and eventually subsided.

As shadows were slowly banished to the corners of the room, Apollo felt the tension in his bones finally start to dissolve. For the first time in days, he felt safe. This wasn’t over, not completely—there was still the trial, and that would undoubtedly be a nightmare of its own, but Apollo couldn’t muster the energy to be worried about it right now.

And maybe it never truly would be over—wounds this deep would always leave scars. Even so, Apollo wasn’t particularly worried for Klavier, not because of his uncanny ability to conceal his pain, but because he had lived so long with this darkness over him and still remained so genuinely bright. With nothing holding him back, he would be absolutely dazzling.

Morning flooded the bedroom, but when Klavier, eyes red-rimmed and hair spilling around his face, finally lifted his head and gave Apollo a tired, honest smile, it put the brilliant sunlight to shame.

Eager to avoid an awkward encounter with Edgeworth’s investigation team, Apollo and Klavier left Kristoph’s house soon after Trucy’s call. Apollo asked at least three times if Klavier was okay to ride his motorcycle, until Klavier turned to him with eyebrows raised and asked, “Would you rather drive, schatzi?”

Apollo gave it a rest after that.

They made it back to campus slowly and without incident, and when they arrived, Klavier pulled up in front of Apollo’s dorm.

Apollo pulled off his helmet. “Um…”

Klavier did the same and turned slightly in his seat. “I’m going to go home and shower,” he said. “I…think I need a moment alone. Not that you haven’t been—”

“No, I know,” Apollo interrupted as he slid off the bike. “It’s okay. I’ll see you…”

“In class,” Klavier finished. When he noticed that Apollo seemed ready to argue, he smiled slightly. “I can’t miss any more, schatzi, I have exams to consider.”

Apollo sighed. “Alright, nerd. Fine.” He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Klavier’s lips. “I love you.”

The words seemed to come so easily now; it was like he had been holding them back for months without even realizing, and now there was a backlog of them at the tip of his tongue. Klavier, for his part, didn’t seem quite used to hearing them yet. His eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly in surprise, and Apollo decided not to resist the impulse to kiss him again before turning towards the dorms with a wave.

A shower sounded like a good idea. Clay was still asleep when Apollo returned to their room—he didn’t have any morning classes—so Apollo grabbed a change of clothes and his soap and spent the next half-hour under a stream of hot water, trying to wash away four days’ worth of fear and uncertainty.

He was only partially successful—when he returned to his room and saw he had a text from Trucy, his heartrate skipped up a few beats and he almost dropped his soap in his hurry to unlock his phone. It still felt like anything could happen. If they lost Vera—

But Trucy just had a correction to make—Vera would be occupied with tests all day, so it would be evening before any outside visitors would be allowed to see her. Only Edgeworth, Trucy reported, was granted a few minutes with her for some critical questions—the rest would have to wait.

So, after taking a moment to recover from his unnecessary panic, Apollo got dressed and went to Khura’inese, where he informed Nahyuta of recent developments. When he got back to his room, Clay was awake, so he repeated the good news to him, and then again to Ema at lunch. But every time gave his brief update, he grew more and more dissatisfied with it. The sketch was decisive evidence against Kristoph—but only for the attempted murder of Vera. All afternoon, Apollo found himself distracted by what Edgeworth might have found in Kristoph’s house, or what Kristoph might have let slip in questioning now that he knew his plot had failed.

It was late afternoon before he got a text from Trucy, informing them that Vera was finished with her tests and questioning, and if they hurried, they would be able to see her before the end of the day. Apollo called Klavier, and half an hour later, they were downtown.

But outside the hospital, Klavier hesitated.

“You go ahead,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

Apollo tilted his head to try to catch Klavier’s eye. “You okay?”

“Ja, I just…” Klavier sighed. “You can say she won’t blame me as many times as you want, but I still…knowing that it was Kristoph, I can’t help but think there must be something I could have done.”

“Klavier…”

“I know,” Klavier said with a small smile. “I just need a minute, ja?”

Apollo squeezed his hand and left him on the sidewalk.

Vera had been moved to a different room—this one had far fewer beeping devices and monitors and was instead furnished with a number of stuffed toys and bouquets of flowers. Upon arriving, Apollo wondered faintly who had sent them all, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Trucy was responsible for the entire display.

On the bedside table, there was a stuffed rabbit wearing a Gramarye hat—a replacement, Apollo presumed, for the stamp that was most likely still in the possession of the police.

Vera sat with a sketchbook in her lap, drawing while she listened to Trucy chat. Every so often, she would reply to something Trucy was saying, but even then, her hand kept moving, as if she was reluctant to stop drawing after having been deprived of the opportunity for so long.

Both girls looked up when Apollo entered. He paused in the doorway, uncertain.

He was considering now how weird this might be for Vera—they had only chatted for a moment, after all, and it was only because of Trucy that he had started visiting her in the first place. Most of the time Apollo had spent with her had been while she was unconscious.

“Apollo!” Trucy greeted him and gestured for him to come in, patting the empty chair next to her.

Apollo sat and looked at Vera. “Hi, Vera. I’m not sure if you remember, we met—”

“At Trucy’s show,” Vera finished, smiling. Her voice was quiet and breathy, but steady—Apollo realized suddenly that he had never actually heard her speak. “Trucy said you helped figure out my drawings.” She met his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh. You’re welcome. Of course.” Apollo rubbed his neck. “I mean, I couldn’t let…well, I’m glad you’re okay. Really glad. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” He paused. “And…I’m really sorry about your dad.”

Vera sighed and looked down. “Me, too,” she said.

“Are you going to be okay? I mean, once you’re released…”

“I think so,” Vera said, mustering a small smile. “My father left me everything, and there’s a good amount I can sell.” When Apollo’s eyes widened, she rushed to clarify. “Not art, not his forgeries. But the equipment we used…I don’t think I’ll be needing them anymore.” She smiled slightly. “I think I might apply to college, actually. Mr. Wright said Ivy has a good art program.”

Apollo was surprised for a moment, but then he remembered that Vera was nineteen. Her timid nature had made her seem much younger when they first met.

“That’s great,” he said earnestly. “I really hope that works out.”

“I’m sure it will!” Trucy interjected. “Your art is amazing!”

Vera flushed at the compliment, then Trucy mentioned that she had Vera’s Gramarye sketch hanging in her room, and from there the two of them got on the topic of magic tricks. Vera continued to draw, every so often touching her pencil to the tip of her tongue, seemingly out of habit. On the page in front of her, a more realistic version of the stuffed rabbit by her bedside was taking shape.

For the most part, Apollo just listened, but he was pulled back into the conversation when Vera wanted to know more about Ivy and the admission process. He wished he knew more about any art scholarships that might be available, but Vera seemed happy enough just to learn about the basics.

As they were talking, there was a knock at the door, and a nurse poked her head it.

“Vera, honey, there’s another visitor for you. Should I tell him to wait, or are you okay with one more?”

Vera frowned. “Who…?”

The nurse opened the door slightly to reveal Klavier standing behind her, slouching slightly, with his eyes glued to the floor. Or at least one eye was; half of his face was hidden behind the enormous vase of flowers he was cradling in his arms.

Apollo couldn’t help but smile. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Klavier bit his lip. “The florist was busy,” he explained. “Vera, ah…would you allow me to apologize?”

But Vera was shaking her head. Klavier’s face fell, and he looked about ready to shuffle back into the hallway until Vera spoke.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” she said. She nodded to the nurse, who opened the door wider to allow Klavier to enter.

“But—”

“It was silly of me, really,” Vera went on. “I can tell, now that I’m actually looking at you. You’re not like him at all.”

“I—” The vase in Klavier’s arms looked heavy, but he seemed reluctant to put it down, instead holding it before him like a shield. “Vera, I should have—he—”

“It’s such a bad habit of mine,” Vera interrupted, looking down at her hands. She rubbed her thumb over the edge of one fingernail. “I never used to leave the studio very often, so whenever I do…it’s overwhelming. And he knew that.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Vera’s face was half-covered by a curtain of hair as she bowed her head. Her voice shook. “I should have spoken up, really. I knew, deep down, what my father was doing—what I was doing—wasn’t right. I owe all of you an apology, more than anything. My work was the cause of all these problems.” The paused, and her shoulders trembled. “The reason my father is dead. The reason Trucy’s father—”

Trucy, Apollo, and Klavier all rushed to protest, but Vera interrupted them, lifting her head and smiling slightly.

“But I’m grateful,” she said. “I don’t deserve it, but you have all been so kind. You didn’t know me, but you helped me.” Her eyes shone with the beginnings of tears. “I always thought I would be alone, if anything ever happened to my father. But now I know I don’t have to be.”

Vera’s tears started to fall in earnest, and the nurse from before appeared seemingly from nowhere, pushing between Apollo and Klavier to get to Vera’s bedside.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” she said, with a severe look at all the visitors. The three of them were just able to wish Vera a hasty farewell before being shooed out into the hallway.

“Do you think she’ll be okay at the trial?” Apollo asked as the they started towards the elevators.

“She will,” Trucy said confidently. “We talked about it a bit before you got here, actually. She’s scared, but she really wants to help. Edgeworth even offered to let her just write a statement, but she insisted on testifying in person.”

“Well, we’ll be there for her,” Apollo said. Beside him, Klavier nodded, but his expression was distant, and he was winding the end of his braid around his finger as they walked. Apollo reached out to take his hand.

Seeing Vera on the mend had put a lot of Apollo’s anxieties to rest, but, as much as he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t truly be capable of relaxing until after Kristoph’s trial. Klavier undoubtedly felt the same; Apollo could practically feel the tension in his shoulders as he settled behind him on the motorcycle.

And that was why, as nervous as he was, Apollo was trying very hard to be optimistic. Klavier had grown up with unwavering faith in his brother’s abilities; it was much more difficult for him to imagine a scenario where Edgeworth won this case. It therefore fell to Apollo to provide the opposite perspective—Kristoph would be up against the district’s most fearsome prosecutor, against whom he had only won once, and when his client was quiet clearly innocent. Apollo had actually spent half his sociology class researching the one case (aside from Zak Gramarye’s trial) on which Kristoph and Edgeworth had previously faced off, just so he would have a point to argue when Klavier inevitably drifted into dismal realism.

But for the most part, he tried to avoid the topic for the time being. There was nothing to be gained by debating it now, when they had so little information.

And Apollo had to admit that Klavier had had the right idea—studying made for a good distraction, even more so when it devolved into lazily making out on Klavier’s bed.

Apollo was more than willing to lose all his worries to the press of Klavier’s lips, but reality had to intrude again eventually, this time in the form of a call from none other than the Chief Prosecutor. Klavier’s eyebrows jumped when he dug Apollo’s ringing phone from where it had somehow ended up under the small of his back, and he passed it along to Apollo wordlessly, that tension seeping into his posture again.

Edgeworth called with a threefold purpose: he had a request, some information, and an offer.

First, Edgeworth was insistent that neither Klavier nor Apollo visit Kristoph before the trial. Vera’s testimony would be decisive, but right now it was the prosecution’s only such evidence. He couldn’t permit anything that might give Kristoph more advantage than he already had.

From that, Apollo could have guessed what Edgeworth told him next: nothing incriminating had been found in Kristoph’s home, not even in his locked study. No traces of atroquinine, not a single scrap of a shredded letter from Misham…Apollo wasn’t sure if it was a relief or not, to learn that his and Klavier’s attempts to help the case had been futile from the start.

Finally, Edgeworth’s offer was preceded by a faint bark on the other end of the line—he was more than willing to take custody of Vongole if needed, but he could also provide her with a ride to her new home, if one was available for her.

So Vongole was chauffeured in style to the Gavinners’ house, nose poking out of the back window of Edgeworth’s red sports car as he pulled up to the curb. The dog seemed entirely unfazed by the mysterious absence of her master—in fact, as Apollo watched her nearly bowl Klavier over upon her arrival, he thought she seemed significantly more rambunctious than before, as if a mere two days without Kristoph was enough to forget her strict training. The thought gave him hope as he watched Klavier, sitting on the floor of the entryway with Vongole in his lap, face scrunched up at he dodged the gleeful Golden’s kisses.

With Klavier distracted, Apollo caught up to Edgeworth as he was returning to his car. The Chief Prosecutor’s expression was already growing grim, and he answered Apollo’s question before Apollo could ask it.

“There isn’t much I can tell you, Apollo,” he said. “But I do have considerably more hope than I did yesterday. He won’t be able to weasel out of attempted murder, I can give you my guarantee.”

To be honest, Apollo expected nothing less, and that, at least, was a small blessing. “And Misham?”

“Misham is a puzzle,” Edgeworth admitted. Then the corner of his mouth turned upward into a small smile, and he regarded Apollo appraisingly. “But no puzzle is without a solution. You worked out the note, after all—any further insights?”

Apollo frowned. “No atroquinine on the note?” At this point, it seemed wise to douse anything that might have come in contact with Kristoph with detection solution.

“None,” Edgeworth confirmed. 

“When did he actually die?”

“The coroner estimates between midnight and one. Long after Gavin’s last visit. He appeared to have been drawing at the time.”

Apollo’s brow furrowed. “Is there poison on the drawings?”

Edgeworth blinked. “I’m not sure. Why?”

Apollo pressed a finger to his forehead. There was something he had noticed that afternoon—a long shot maybe, but no more peculiar than a poisoned postage stamp. “Vera sometimes licks her pencils before she draws. It’s kind of an old-fashioned habit, isn’t it?”

Edgeworth stared at him. “It is indeed. And there’s only one place she could have picked it up.”

“There wouldn’t be anything left on the pencil...”

“...but there may be traces on the sketch,” Edgeworth finished, eyes wide. “Apollo, are you sure you won’t consider a career at the prosecutor's office?”

“Uh…”

“I need to look into this immediately,” Edgeworth said, opening the door to his car. He paused just a moment as he ducked inside. “And I’m not joking, Justice. I’m extremely impressed. Good night.”

Apollo stammered a farewell that was lost to the rev of the engine, then rejoined the Gavinners on the front lawn, where they were all occupied with lavishing attention on their new household mascot. Vongole looked like she had never been happier.

Apollo stayed up late that night. He knew it was unreasonable to demand that the district Chief Prosecutor keep him in the loop, but he couldn't help but hope Edgeworth might reach out again with the results of the tests on Misham’s sketchbook. But come morning, Apollo was forced to accept that Edgeworth probably had higher priorities, and he resigned himself to waiting until the trial.

State v. Gavin was set for the following Monday, which meant Apollo had six days to fret over it. Fortunately for his sanity, he was able to get snippets of information from Trucy, who had the advantage of being able to overhear Edgeworth’s and Wright’s conversations during the few hours that Edgeworth spent at home. However, these weren’t the most direct of updates, since Edgeworth didn’t seem willing to recite the details of his entire investigation during his brief moments of rest.

            Trucy [10:03 P.M.]: miles is having a glass of wine but he didn’t take out the case files, I THINK that means things are going well

Two of Apollo’s professors were kind enough to give exams on Friday, so Apollo was at least able to keep himself occupied for the remainder of the week, but the weekend was a different story. Without studying to distract him, Klavier turned his nervous energy to music, and Apollo spent a lot of time at the Gavinners’ house playing with Vongole while the band rehearsed.

And if Klavier was a little touchier than usual, his band members seemed willing enough to excuse it, although Apollo noticed Daryan biting his tongue and taking a deep breath after a few of Klavier’s more unreasonable demands.

On Monday, they took the bus to the courthouse.

They were joined by a good portion of the pre-law society. In the seat behind them, Nahyuta and Simon were quietly discussing the decision to suspend the implementation of the jurist system—another test trial would take place the following month, but Kristoph would be tried according to the system he was accustomed to. The freshmen were chatting about one of their professors, but their usual energy seemed subdued.

Beside Apollo, Klavier was silent, staring down at his hands in his lap and twisting one of his rings. He was dressed somewhat more formally than usual; Apollo couldn’t help but remember the scolding he had overheard at the courthouse last week.

The trial was one of the most normal Apollo had attended in recent memory. Edgeworth and Kristoph were surprisingly civil as they argued about the murders of which Kristoph was accused—Apollo hardly even caught sight of the devil on Kristoph’s hand. Edgeworth’s prosecution was methodical, but unrelenting—he built his case brick by brick, establishing each scrap of evidence and sentence of testimony clearly and precisely until he had a veritable fortress that Kristoph would be hard-pressed to dismantle. It was artful, really, with maybe a touch more of the Demon Prosecutor than the district had grown used to. Kristoph reaped what he sowed.

Vera gave her testimony flawlessly, and Edgeworth didn’t allow Kristoph an inch of slack in his cross-examination; every time it seemed like the defense’s questions were tending towards badgering, a clear Objection! rang out across the courtroom. And although she was clearly nervous, Vera never once brought her fingernails to her lips.

Misham’s final drawings came up about halfway through the trial, and Apollo was immensely gratified to see the touch of electric blue in the lines of the sketch. The expression on Kristoph’s face was even more satisfying—in adjusting his glasses, he wasn’t quite fast enough to hide the flash of fear in his eyes.

But even with those victories, it was a long, tense battle—one of the longest single-day trials the courthouse had seen in years. Klavier was almost completely silent for the duration, eyes darting between Kristoph and Edgeworth as their arguments flew back-and-forth across the courtroom. Apollo wondered if there was still a part of him that was hoping this was all some huge misunderstanding.

But in the end, the entire courtroom—and most importantly, the judge—was convinced: Kristoph Gavin had attempted to poison Vera Misham and had succeeded in poisoning Drew. Not for lack of trying, Edgeworth had not quite managed to solidify the charge for Zak Gramarye’s murder, but it was clear he still considered the trial a victory; there was a bright glint in his eyes and a satisfied curve to his lips as he watched Kristoph taken from the courtroom.

For a while after the verdict was read, Klavier sat still, gaze fixed unseeingly on the empty defense bench. The rest of the club filed out with the other gallery members, leaving just Klavier and Apollo in the empty courtroom.

Neither of them spoke. Klavier was pale, but he didn’t appear upset—the small crease in his brow seemed more thoughtful than troubled. Apollo followed his gaze to the empty defense bench and wondered what was going through his boyfriend’s head.

The conclusion of the trial was a relief, but Apollo couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy, too. Maybe he hadn’t admired Kristoph nearly as much as Klavier had, but the Coolest Defense in the West had been his first real mentor in his chosen field. Despite everything, he had learned a lot during his short time at Gavin Law Offices.

Lost in thought, he and Klavier both jumped when they heard a floorboard creak nearby. They looked up to see Edgeworth standing at the end of the row.

“Klavier,” he said, “I appreciate your patience. You should be able to see him tomorrow, if you so choose.”

Klavier nodded. “Thank you, Herr Edgeworth.”

“And Apollo.” Edgeworth turned to him with a small smile. “Your hunch was right, as I’m sure you noticed. Don’t forget what I said.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth. For everything,” Apollo added.

Edgeworth nodded, and left them alone again. Klavier turned to Apollo, one eyebrow raised.

“What was that about?” he asked. “Your ‘hunch’?”

Apollo quickly explained about the sketches and how he had noticed Vera’s habit. “And then Edgeworth told me to consider changing my career path,” he finished. 

Klavier’s eyebrows rose. “When was this?”

“Uh, you were busy petting Vongole.”

“Ach, seriously? I spend two months as an intern at the prosecutor’s office without so much as a ‘good work’ from Herr Edgeworth, and you’re already getting job offers?” Klavier shook his head mournfully. “So it was my career opportunities you were after all along, eh, Forehead?”

Apollo rolled his eyes, but he was glad to see Klavier making jokes, even if Klavier couldn’t quite conceal the shadow that lingered in his eyes. “You got me. Vongole and I are in cahoots.”

“I suspected as much.” With one last look across the courtroom, Klavier let out a heavy sigh and stood. “Shall we get dinner on our way back?”

“Sure,” Apollo said, following him towards the aisle.

At the top of the stairs, Klavier paused, his back still to Apollo.

“And…tomorrow,” he began. “I…would you…”

“I’ll go with you,” Apollo assured him. “If you want me there.”

“Ja. Thank you.” Klavier’s hand gripped the railing; wordlessly, Apollo took his other hand, and they started down the stairs.

When they returned to campus after dinner, Klavier was already stifling yawns, so Apollo wasn’t surprised when he said he wanted to go back to his house and sleep. They parted ways in front of Apollo’s dorm.

Climbing the stairs alone, Apollo noted, in a distant sort of way, that he felt strangely empty. He unlocked the door to his room in a mechanical fashion and was relieved to find that Clay was home.

“If you want to know what happened, you’ll have to look online,” Apollo said preemptively as he entered the room. He had nowhere near enough energy to describe the trial.

“Already did,” Clay told him. He was sitting on his desk with his computer, doing homework. “How’s Klavier?”

Apollo settled on the edge of his bed. “He’s okay. Tired.” He paused. “We’re going to see Kristoph tomorrow.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Pollo,” Clay began slowly, starting to get up from his chair. “You’re shaking.”

“What?” Apollo looked down at his hands, and realized they were indeed trembling slightly. He took a deep breath, but a violent shudder wracked his shoulders as he exhaled. “Huh.”

Clay stood and rushed to his side. “Do you want water, or something?” Alarm was apparent in his voice.

“No, I’m…I’m fine.” Except he felt a little off-kilter, like he wasn’t settled in his body quite right…

Fine.  He was supposed to be, now, wasn’t he? Kristoph had received his sentence. They had won.

But that didn’t explain why he felt like his insides had turned to jelly. He leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands, while Clay rubbed circles on his back.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “I just—” Oh.

When he realized the problem, another wave of nausea washed over him.

“Pollo?”

Apollo drew a breath and tried to ignore the pounding of his pulse in his ears. “Uh. It just sorta hit me that he… he really could have killed me.”

It seemed that without Klavier beside him now—Klavier, for whom this situation was so much worse, for whom Apollo had to be strong and supportive—Apollo was at last able to realize, quite suddenly, just how bad this situation could have been for him.

Beside him, Clay sucked in a breath. “You’re okay now,” he soothed, after a moment, but Apollo knew him well enough to hear the poorly concealed anger in his voice.

“I know, I just…shit.  He was probably thinking about it. Like…weighing it, trying to figure out if it was…worth his trouble, or something.” Apollo shuddered. “And now he probably wishes he had.”

Clay put an arm around his shoulder. “Are you sure you’ll be okay seeing him?”

“I can’t let Klavier go alone,” Apollo replied immediately. “I’ll be fine. I just…god, I really hate him.”

Clay nodded in agreement. “Ema and I were thinking of starting a club, actually. T-shirts and everything.”

Apollo gave a weak laugh. “If you come back here with a t-shirt with Kristoph Gavin’s face on it I will not hesitate to burn it.”

“Yeah, I think those were the plans for the first meeting. Then we’ll just go get ice cream or something.”

“How about we just skip straight to the ice cream?” Apollo suggested.

Clay considered it. “You wanna go now? If you’re feeling up to it.”

Apollo took a deep breath, willing his tremors to settle. Very deliberately, he put thoughts of Kristoph aside. He was tired, but he hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Clay lately, and he knew there was no one better to cheer him up and make him feel ready to face the next day.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

~~~

“What a pleasant surprise,” said a dry, insincere voice. “I was beginning to think my dear brother would never condescend to visit my gloomy quarters.”

Kristoph had yet to be moved to the nearby prison, so Klavier and Apollo took a bus to the detention center the following afternoon. A guard led them to the holding cells, and they found Kristoph seated at the small desk in the corner, apparently perusing a book.

“Although, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Kristoph went on. “Mr. Edgeworth was so very worried about the two of you.” His gaze turned on Apollo. “I should have noticed his meddling months ago. It’s so hard to find good help these days…” he mused, with a significant look at his former employee.

Apollo shivered, but Kristoph was already glancing away from him, looking at Klavier instead.

“So, Klavier, to what do I owe the pleasure? I suppose you must have a rent payment coming up, but that will have to wait. My finances are a bit tied up at the moment.”

Klavier let out a breath. “I’m not here for money.”

Kristoph waited, his expression neutral. Klavier met his brother’s eyes. 

“I just don’t understand, Kris.”

Kristoph looked away. “Well, that’s hardly a surprise.”

Apollo clenched his teeth. He hoped Kristoph realized how lucky he was, that there were bars between him and Apollo’s fists.

But Klavier didn’t even flinch, like the comment was expected. “How many others?” he said, after a pause. “Your previous trials, how many—”

“Did you come here hoping to add years to my sentence?” Kristoph interrupted.

“No!” Klavier burst out. “I’m just trying to understand.” His voice dropped quieter. “I want to know what I was looking up to, all those years.”

“And what good will that do you?” Kristoph pressed. “If I were to say all my victories were ill-won, would that make you feel better, Klavier? Will it soothe your ego, to know I wasn’t as good as you thought I was?”

Klavier shook his head. “I know you were,” he said. “That’s what I don’t understand, Kris. You were the best. I studied so many of your trials, trying to figure out how I would go about beating you when the time came…I’ve been wracking my brain, looking for signs that anything was amiss. Maybe you didn’t win those trials fairly, but you never broke the law. So why that trial? What made you think you couldn’t win?”

For a long moment, Kristoph was quiet, as if he was actually considering his answer. Then he smiled slightly, and Apollo’s bracelet tightened around his wrist.

“Perhaps I am just an evil human being,” he mused, meeting Klavier’s gaze. “Did you consider that possibility, Klavier?”

Klavier stared back at him, his expression pleading, but Kristoph only pursed his lips and looked away.

“You’ve been rather quiet over there, Justice,” he remarked, turning his icy gaze on Apollo.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Apollo retorted. “I’m here for him.”

“How sweet,” Kristoph sneered. “Should I expect a Save-the-Date in my mail presently?”

Apollo elected to ignore the comment. “Actually, Mr. Gavin, I’ve been wondering,” he said instead. “What’s that scar from?”

Klavier frowned, glancing between Apollo and Kristoph. “What scar?”

“On his hand,” Apollo said, pointing out the spot on his own hand. “That’s how I first figured it out, actually.” He turned to Kristoph, and he wasn’t able to keep a small, victorious smile from his lips. “Vera drew that little face that pops up on your hand when you’re tense. Like now.”

With his arms crossed, Kristoph was digging the fingers of his right hand into his sleeve, and the devil’s face shifted in and out of existence.

“I do believe that is none of your business,” Kristoph replied.

Honestly, Apollo hadn’t even been that curious—he had been trying to think of something to say, and the scar came to mind. Now, however, with Kristoph being so evasive…

Klavier just looked quizzical. He narrowed his eyes at Kristoph’s hand. “Wait, that scar? I thought that was from cooking or something.”

Turning to Apollo, Kristoph smiled mildly. “Ah, yes. That was it. A mishap with a knife.”

But Apollo just shook his head. “You’re lying,” he said immediately. “But why…”

Kristoph’s left hand had drifted up to the back of his neck—that was a new one. Apollo let himself instinctively focus further, really putting his eyes to work.

It only took him a moment.

“There’s another one,” he said. “Another scar, under your hair.”

Kristoph’s eyes flashed. Klavier looked from him to Apollo, confused.

“Another…?” A moment later, something seemed to occur to him. “Wait. Are those…” He looked up, meeting Kristoph’s eyes. “Are those from the accident?”

Kristoph’s jaw tightened.

“Accident?” Apollo echoed, but Klavier didn’t seem to hear him. He was shaking his head, brow furrowed.

“But I don’t…I don’t remember you being hurt…”

“Well, naturally,” Kristoph cut in. “You were fast asleep. Who knows what would have happened, if I hadn’t—”

He broke off suddenly, eyes wide as he clamped his jaw shut. Klavier stared at him.

“If you hadn’t…what?”

Kristoph looked away, eyes hidden in the shadow of his bangs. “It’s nothing. I believe I’ve had enough of this visit. Guard, if you would…?”

“Wait, Kris—” Klavier protested. “What happened, I don’t—”

But Kristoph was already turning away, and a guard was motioning for Klavier and Apollo to follow her back down the hallway.

“…remember,” Klavier finished faintly, staring back towards the cell as he reluctantly walked away.

“Are you okay?” Apollo asked quietly once they were back in the lobby.

Klavier barely seemed to hear him. Outside, Apollo found a bench where they could wait for the bus, and Klavier settled beside him, his expression distant.

“I don’t…it’s all so foggy,” he was saying. “Because he’s right, I was asleep. It was…such a long drive…”

Apollo frowned as he put the pieces together. “When you say accident…”

“A traffic accident. The one that killed my parents,” Klavier finished, nodding slightly.

“You were in the car?” Apollo gasped.

“All four of us, yes,” Klavier said. “A reckless driver clipped us on the highway and sent the car into oncoming traffic. My father was killed instantly, and my mother didn’t last until the EMTs arrived.”

Apollo couldn’t find words to reply to that.

“And I was asleep.” Klavier paused. “Sometimes it still feels like it was all a dream. A nightmare I never woke up from. It’s so blurry…I wasn’t even hurt, but I barely remember any of it, even their funeral, I…I should remember their funeral, but it’s all just…”

Apollo put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

Klavier let out a shaky breath. “But I remember after…my aunt was staying with us. And we spent all this time at the hospital, because Kris was—” He broke off, lifting his head with sudden realization. “Because Kris was hurt. He was hurt, there was a surgery and my aunt kept pestering him, saying if he had just kept his seatbelt—”

Klavier fell quiet, eyes wide and staring at nothing.

Apollo broke the silence. “You think…he got hurt trying to protect you?”

Klavier seemed to snap out of his daze. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know…but it doesn’t make sense, if he had really…saved my life, or…I never would have heard the end of it. If he actually hurt himself, for my sake…”

“Maybe that seemed like too much?” Apollo said—albeit a bit uncertainly, given what he knew about Kristoph.

And Klavier echoed his thoughts right away. “He’s killed people!”

“I’m not trying to defend him,” Apollo assured him. “Really. Just…you’re still his kid brother. Maybe he didn’t want you feeling guilty about it.”

“Oh, but everything else was fair game?” Klavier returned acidly. His voice turned colder, an imitation of the older Gavin. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, Klavier, imagine what they would think, Klavier, how dare you treat everything they’ve done for you with such disregard, Klavier—” Klavier broke off with a derisive huff. “To be fair, he only dragged them into it for big things, but that didn’t always work. I got Germany, the Gavinners, the prosecutor’s course…but if I had known—if he really—I mean, why draw the line there? Why not point out that I might owe him my life?”

Apollo wasn’t really sure what to say to that. Klavier glanced at him sideways, and the fervor seemed to leave him as quickly as it had come.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It doesn’t even matter. Just a missed opportunity on his part.” He leaned back on the bench, face tilted skyward. “I’m sure he regrets it, anyway. After all, without me—”

Mid-sentence, Klavier froze.

“…Klavier?” Apollo ventured.

“Without me…” Klavier repeated, almost inaudibly. He had gone pale, and without warning, he leapt to his feet.

“I need to talk to him again.”

Apollo stood and grabbed Klavier’s arm. “Hold on. Not right now. You know he won’t see you anyway.”

Klavier tugged against Apollo grasp. “I’ll make him. I need to know.”

Shaking his head, Apollo held his ground. “Even if he did get hurt because of you, what difference does it make? It was years ago.”

Shaking his head, Klavier took a half-step back towards the doors. “I need to know if I’m why.”

Apollo frowned. “What?”

Klavier wasn’t looking at him—he was facing the building, but his eyes were somewhat unfocused. “It wasn’t always about winning for him, I know it wasn’t, but winning…has certain benefits, and…it’s expensive to put a teenager through Themis and Ivy…”

As Apollo realized his point, he started shaking his head. “Klavier, that’s not—”

“If he hadn’t had to deal with me, maybe he wouldn’t have had to resort to…to what he did, to win, maybe—” Klavier’s words came in a rush, tumbling over each other as if he was speaking them as soon as they came to mind. “Maybe if I had just d—”

Apollo drew himself up. “Klavier I-don’t-know-your-middle-name Gavin,” he interrupted. Loudly. A few pigeons nearby flinched and hopped away to a safe distance.

The volume, at least, seemed to have thrown Klavier off.

“Kyouya,” he supplied mechanically.

“Oh. That’s pretty.”

“I’ve never understood why ‘piano’ won out over Mom’s cultural heritage,” Klavier said, but the response seemed automatic, like he had used this line before. He was still staring at the detention center, like he was trying to see past the walls.

“Well, anyway. Klavier Kyouya Gavin. You are not about to blame yourself for two murders and a poisoning just because you survived a car accident.”

Klavier’s jaw tightened.

“And…” Apollo hesitated before his next words. He believed them to be true, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit as much—with everything he knew about Kristoph, it was difficult to reconcile. “…he doesn’t regret it. Protecting you.”

“How can you possibly—”

“Because he didn’t want you to know,” Apollo said. “Because he didn’t hold it over your head.”

Because he’s not quite as evil as he wants you to think he is, he thought, remembering the way his bracelet had reacted at Kristoph’s words.

Klavier swayed back and forth, as if debating whether to pull his arm from Apollo’s grasp and march back inside. Apollo looked past him, towards the street.

“The bus is almost here,” he observed.

For another few seconds, Klavier stood looking towards the detention center, every muscle tensed. Finally, he heaved a sigh and relaxed.

“Ja. I’m coming.”

Klavier turned towards the street without even looking at Apollo, and his eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he boarded the bus and took a seat by a window, where he took to gazing blankly out at the passing cars.

Carefully, Apollo reached out and slipped his hand into Klavier’s. Klavier barely reacted, but he didn’t pull away, either.

“I don’t know what the truth is,” Apollo said softly as the bus lurched forward. “I don’t know why he did it. But whatever the reason—he was wrong. It was his choice, and he was wrong.”

Klavier bit his lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his head against the window. He stayed like that for a while, as the bus pulled away from the curb and trundled through the city.

“I just…” he choked out finally, “I miss my brother. My family.”

Apollo squeezed his hand. “I know.”

“He was all I had, why would he…”

“I know,” Apollo repeated, leaning closer. Klavier’s words touched something deep his in heart, scratching at his own scars of abandonment that still hadn’t quite healed over. He rested his head on Klavier’s shoulder, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence.

~~~

For a few days after their visit to the detention center, Klavier was somewhat distant. Apollo wasn’t too worried—now that all the turmoil of the trial was over, it was understandable that Klavier needed some time just to process what had happened—but it was hard to keep himself from fretting over him a little. His anxiety didn’t go unnoticed; after class that Friday, Simon leaned over from his desk in the next row to talk to him.

“He’ll be alright,” he said quietly, so Klavier, who was packing up his bag, wouldn’t hear. “This is just a part of grieving.”

Apollo refrained from pointing out that one did not exactly need to be pursuing a psychology major to realize as much.

He was a little surprised that Simon had started a conversation with him, though. The senior usually kept to himself, and it was uncharacteristic for him to offer unsolicited comfort.

Simon’s motives began to reveal themselves the next moment.

“That aside: Apollo,” Simon said, his expression growing serious. “I have a question for you.”

“Sure, what?” The intensity in Simon’s eyes was actually making Apollo kind of nervous.

Simon paused a moment before asking, “Do you happen to know how Nahyuta feels about soba?”

Apollo blinked. “…what?”

Now, his classmate looked irritated. “Soba, it’s a Japanese—”

“No, I know what soba is, I meant—well, whatever. I don’t know if he’s ever had it, but he likes trying new foods, so…”

“Hmmm…” Simon returned to his seat without another word and began packing up his things. Apollo regarded him quizzically for a moment, then grabbed his backpack and went to follow Klavier.

“Is Simon hoping to make me his next subject in his psych thesis?” Klavier asked once they were outside.

“I don’t think so,” Apollo said uncertainly. “He was asking me about Nahyuta, actually.”

“Ah.” Klavier paused thoughtfully. “They’ll be an interesting couple.”

“Huh?”

Klavier turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Apollo. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Apollo ran back over Simon’s question in his head. “…oh.”

“Mein Gott, schatzi. Tell me, exactly how far did I need to get in that song of mine before you realized I was confessing?”

Apollo held up a finger. “Okay, listen—”

Klavier just laughed, while Apollo wondered if he should maybe take some time to check in with his foster brother. When was the last time he had really sat down with Nahyuta, anyway?

“But, speaking of Simon,” Klavier said, his laughter fading. A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Or rather, of his chosen field…it was, ah…suggested to me that I make an appointment with someone at the health center.” Klavier looked down at his feet. “Just…to talk, I suppose.”

Apollo glanced at him. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Mm. And yet…” Klavier paused, his brows drawing together. “It feels like admitting defeat. He was always so…dismissive…of that kind of thing,” he went on, more quietly.

“All the more reason to do it,” Apollo pointed out. Klavier gave a reluctant nod.

“Ja, you’re right, of course,” Klavier said. He was still staring at the ground, his expression conflicted.

“It doesn’t have to be right now,” Apollo added. “Just…when you feel up to it.”

Klavier didn’t answer, but he nodded again.

“And Klavier? It’s not defeat.” They were walking through a quieter portion of campus now, a tree-lined path that cut between two academic buildings, and Apollo slowed their pace so they could remain in the relative privacy of the grove for a few moments longer. “Recovering from this would be like…the biggest victory. Even more than beating him in court.” Apollo looked up at him, smiling slightly.

Klavier bit his lip, but he was almost smiling, too. “I can’t help but think a guilty verdict would be far more satisfying,” he said, “but I suppose you might be right.”

And if Klavier was craving a guilty verdict, he would have his opportunity soon enough—the mock trial was fast approaching, and the following Monday, Klavier and Apollo arrived at the classroom for their club meeting only to find Athena barring the door.

“Nope, top secret preparations today,” she said, one hand on either side of the doorframe. She grinned. “You two go on a date or something.”

Apollo frowned. “But…”

“Treasury report, schmeasury report,” Athena interrupted. “We’re already making evidence. No lawyers allowed.”

Peering past her, Apollo could see Clay energetically explaining something to Juniper, while Ema pulled seemingly endless forensic equipment out of her bag.

Klavier looked over Apollo’s shoulder. “Our STEM majors have replaced us,” he observed, then sighed. “I suppose we have no choice, then.”

“Oh, but before you go, there’s actually one thing we need to decide,” Athena said. “For the trial, do you guys want to do it the regular way, or the Phoenix Wright way?”

Apollo and Klavier frowned at her blankly. “If you could elaborate, fräulein…?” Klavier requested.

“The regular way is you guys get a brief investigation report in advance and you can prepare using that,” she explained. Then she grinned. “The Phoenix Wright way is going in blind.”

Before Apollo could even open his mouth, Klavier was answering. “The Phoenix Wright way, then,” he said. “As long as it does not involve being ambushed with fire extinguishers.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Apollo interrupted, looking at Klavier. “I kinda like the regular way.”

“Ah, but improvising will be so much more fun, don’t you think?” Klavier said.

Apollo turned to Athena. “We both go in blind, right? This isn’t just about giving the defense a huge handicap?”

Athena nodded. “Right. Neither of you gets to prepare.”

Klavier’s brows drew together. “Well, now, that’s just unrealistic.”

Apollo rounded on him. “Hold it! You really thought it was just me who wouldn’t get to prepare?”

Klavier brushed a hand through his bangs. “You have to admit, it doesn’t make much sense for the prosecution to know nothing about the case…”

“Still!”

Athena held up her hands, placatingly. “Well, I’ll let you guys fight over that…just get back to me when you decide!” With that, she stepped back into the classroom and closed the door firmly behind her.

“Klavier!”

“I’m teasing, schatzi,” Klavier said, smiling and taking his hand as they turned to walk back out of the building. “But I do think improvising will be more fun. And more entertaining, nein?”

“I think that depends on your definition of entertaining,” Apollo replied. “But fine. It’s just a mock trial, anyway.”

“Apollo, with that attitude you all but guarantee my victory,” Klavier said, a note of complaint in his voice. “Where’s your competitive spirit?”

“I’m saving it,” Apollo grumbled. “So, should we just go do homework, or what?”

“Hm, no, I think Athena had the right idea,” Klavier mused. “You mentioned something about pastries a few weeks ago, ja?”

So, a twenty-minute walk later, they found themselves at Kitaki Cakes, appraising the selection of fox-themed baked goods. The teenager behind the counter recommended the matcha cupcakes, so they each ordered one, then found seats at a small table under a flowering cherry tree.

“So, I finally started editing our album last night,” Klavier said.

Apollo looked up. As far as he had known, the Gavinners album had been put on hold indefinitely after Kristoph’s arrest interrupted the production process. He was glad to hear that Klavier felt up to the task of picking up where he left off.

“How’s it going?”

Klavier tilted his head back and forth. “Okay, so far. It’s strange, having waited so long after the recording—I feel I’m a little more critical of the errors now.”

“Is that good or bad?” Apollo asked.

“Both.” Klavier grimaced. “I’m up to four nearly-identical versions of the opening track now.”

“Ah.”

Klavier let out a little self-deprecating laugh. “But that’s when I send them over to Daryan, who probably flips a coin, then comes up with a thoughtful reason for his decision to spare my sanity.”

“Where would we be without Daryan,” Apollo remarked.

“Where indeed,” Klavier agreed. “We should have a finished product by the start of summer. Perfect timing, since we do a few shows over the break.” He paused. “You’ll be around town, ja?”

Apollo nodded. “Clay wants to try to find an apartment closer to Gyaxa, so I’ll probably split the rent with him. If I can find a job,” he added.

“Ah.” Klavier paused. “And if you can’t?”

“Khura’in,” Apollo said grimly. After a moment of watching Klavier attempt to not look abjectly disappointed, he laughed. “Nah, I’m just kidding. I’ll find something. I mean, apparently I’m desperately needed at the prosecutor’s office…”

Klavier frowned. “Good thing I have a back-up career,” he grumbled.

Apollo patted his hand consolingly. “Hey, I’ll put in a good word to Edgeworth for you.”

Klavier was trying very hard to look supportive, but there was still a trace of a pout on his lips. He took a dejected bite of his cupcake, and Apollo sighed.

“Still kidding, Klav,” he assured him. “If internships don’t pan out, it’ll just be another retail summer.” With Kristoph’s promises of future employment, Apollo had missed a lot of deadlines for most internships in the area; while it was minor in comparison to Kristoph’s actual crimes, Apollo was still a little miffed at the timing. “If I’m lucky, I’ll have enough left over to afford a ticket to one of my boyfriend’s shows,” he added.

“Nonsense, you get VIP access,” Klavier said, looking considerably cheerier now. “A signed album and everything. All for half price.” He winked.

“Wow. How charitable. I’m feeling so loved right now.”

Klavier tossed his bangs, grinning. “And who says chivalry is dead?”

~~~

As the mock trial drew closer, Apollo thought Klavier might be regretting his decision to do things “the Phoenix Wright way.”

It was a week before the event when he caught sight of Klavier talking to Athena in the courtyard outside the student center, leaning conspiratorially close. Apollo was able to overhear a little of their conversation as he got approached.

“…an autopsy report at least, don’t you think? It would be more realist—” Klavier broke off with a strangled sound as Apollo sidled up next to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Hey, guys, what’re we talking about?”

“Schatzi—” Klavier began, eyes wide.

“You know, I thought the years of corruption in the prosecutor’s office were behind us,” Apollo mused. “What a shame. Maybe we’re in the dark age of the law after all.” He turned to Athena. “Athena, I expected better of you,” he added, with mock disappointment.

“My lips are sealed,” Athena assured him. She glanced at Klavier, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “But you know this is entirely up to you guys, right?”

Klavier chewed on his lip, looking pained. “Nein,” he said finally. “Nein, we’ll do it the way we decided.”

“Okay…” Athena said doubtfully. “But just know you’re running out of time to change your mind!”

“Getting nervous, Prosecutor Gavin?” Apollo asked with a grin as Athena left. Klavier sighed.

“It was a moment of weakness,” he said, rubbing his temple. “There’s a lot on my plate.”

Apollo was busy, too—final projects were starting to rear their heads, and despite his initial objections, he was actually relieved to have an excuse to completely ignore the mock trial until the actual event. Klavier, facing the same projects, along with his continued work on the Gavinners album, should have had even more reason to leave the trial in the hands of the rest of the club, but Apollo knew by now that Klavier didn’t really work like that.

He also knew that Klavier had gone back to see Kristoph at least once since the older Gavin had been transferred to a solitary cell at the nearby prison. Klavier hadn’t seemed particularly interested in discussing it, but as far as Apollo could tell, the visit had been a practical one—Klavier’s way of life was largely dependent on his brother’s finances. And since Klavier still appeared to be signing up for classes and planning for the next semester as usual, Apollo could only assume the conversation had gone favorably for Klavier, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had been easy.

If Klavier had obtained any answers to the questions he had been left with after his last visit, he didn’t say as much to Apollo. But for a few days following the encounter, Klavier became withdrawn again, and his smile made Apollo’s bracelet constrict ever so slightly around his wrist.

Apollo let it be, but that didn’t keep him from worrying that maybe Klavier was taking on too much, with his brother’s conviction still so fresh. He recalled what Daryan had said about Klavier piling things on top of his pain.

Some of Apollo’s concerns must have started to show on his face, because Klavier glanced at him sideways and gave a small smile.

“This is my natural state, schatzi,” he said reassuringly. “I’m at a loss when I only have a reasonable amount of work to do.”

Apollo wasn’t sure that was entirely healthy, but at least Klavier didn’t seem to be lying—Apollo would be worried if he was hiding something, but if Klavier was just happily occupied, he supposed he couldn’t complain. His concerns were further assuaged when Klavier told him that he had booked an appointment at the health center for the week after the mock trial.

“I was inclined to use studying as an excuse to put it off,” he admitted, when he showed Apollo the appointment card as evidence, “but then I realized I would always be able to find another excuse, so…”

“Proud of you,” Apollo said honestly. Klavier flushed slightly and tucked the card back in his wallet.

But while Apollo was fairly certain that Klavier was coping with the events of the past month, he did have a sneaking suspicion, supplemented by his bracelet, that there was something Klavier wasn’t telling him. It was little things—Klavier rescheduling a date because of “a meeting with a professor,” but the “professor” part didn’t quite ring true, and one phone call that Klavier had hastily concluded when he noticed Apollo approaching from across the quad. Apollo trusted Klavier too much to be worried that something truly nefarious was going on, but he couldn’t entirely let it go.

They were studying in the library one evening when Klavier’s phone, resting on the table between them, buzzed with a new email alert, and Klavier practically leapt to conceal the screen before Apollo could see it.

Apollo narrowed his eyes—Klavier looked back at him with an expression of forced nonchalance.

“Ja, Forehead?”

Apollo held up his left wrist, and Klavier’s eyes flickered to the bracelet pressing into Apollo’s skin.

“Should I be concerned?” Apollo asked. Klavier let out a breath.

“Nein, not at all,” he said after a pause. “But can I impose upon your patience for just a little while longer? It’s not exactly my secret to share.”

Now Apollo was just more intrigued. “It doesn’t really sound like I have a choice,” he replied, somewhat reluctantly. Klavier grimaced.

“Soon, schatzi, I promise.” Klavier’s eyes implored him, and after a moment, Apollo sighed.

“Okay. Just as long as, y’know, you’re good. And we’re good,” he added.

“Of course,” Klavier assured him, and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. Then he returned his attention to his textbooks, humming idly as he took down notes.

The tune was familiar, and later, Apollo found himself humming it too, although he didn’t remember why he knew it until he was lying in bed that night, about to fall asleep.

The Guitar’s Serenade, he recalled, fondly thinking back on his and Klavier’s first date as he nodded off. But when he dreamed, it wasn’t Klavier he saw, but Lamiroir, standing by a Khura’inese spring with her dress billowing in the breeze, watching him with unreadable eyes and vanishing ghost-like into the wind just as Apollo got close.  

“Pollo…” Clay began, “you really should’ve gotten that thing tailored.”

Apollo scowled at his reflection in the mirror. The sleeves of his new suit jacket hung a good inch over his palms. “I forgoooot,” he groaned piteously.

Months ago, he just hadn’t wanted to spend all his savings on buying the suit and getting the adjustments done—at the time, he couldn’t have predicted all the distractions that would come up in the following weeks.

“Well, you can’t show up in that. You’ll get laughed at.”

Apollo cast an agonized expression in his direction. “But what do I do?”

He was supposed to be at the auditorium in five minutes to meet with Juniper and go over the rules. He would have arrived in plenty of time, had this unexpected obstacle not arisen.

“Hm.” Clay scratched his chin. “Okay, okay, take the jacket off, because that’s definitely not happening.”

Apollo followed his instructions and was left standing in his dress shirt, slacks, and tie. “Okay.”

“Now…oh, I know! Doesn’t this thing have a vest? Why aren’t you wearing the vest?”

“I thought I would be too warm with both…” Apollo was saying, but Clay was already digging through the closet.

“Okay, here,” he said, emerging with the matching red vest. “Put that on.”

Apollo did so. “Hm…”

The left sleeve of his shirt was bunched up awkwardly over his bracelet, so he idly rolled it up, watching his reflection as he did so. Clay, watching him, started to smile.

“Oh, yeah. That’s a look.”

Apollo turned to face the mirror, straightening his shoulders and considering his reflection. The vest fit him well, thankfully, and in fact, Apollo thought it looked even better with the teal tie than the jacket had. He had been a little wary about the tie, and had originally gravitated towards something more neutral, but the guy at the store had insisted on adding a pop of contrasting color. “If you’re going to be bold,” he had said, “you might as well go all the way, right?”

And, straightening the tie, Apollo was definitely not regretting his final decision. He smirked at his reflection.

“I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine.”

“Damn right you are,” Clay agreed, shooting a pair of finger guns. “But you’re also gonna be late if you keep staring at yourself, c’mon.”

Apollo took another moment to ensure that his hair was in order, then followed Clay out the door. They made it to the bottom of the stairs, then stopped short. Outside, a steady rain was soaking the campus. Preoccupied as he was, Apollo hadn’t even noticed the clouds roll in.

Clay grimaced. “Do you have an umbrella?” he asked, in a tone that clearly implied that he did not.

Apollo faintly remembered his umbrella disappearing after a trip to the library one or two semesters ago. “Uh…”

“Well, here.” Clay shrugged out of his Gyaxa jacket and handed it to Apollo. “You’re running late, so use this. I’ll grab another jacket and see you there.”

So Apollo made his way to the auditorium by holding Clay’s jacket over his head and dashing from overhangs to covered walkways to sheltered doorways. When he finally arrived at the auditorium, the hems of his pants were a little damp, but his hair had made it through the ordeal intact. He shrugged the jacket over his shoulders and glanced around the lobby. Juniper had instructed him to meet her backstage…

“Oh, Apollo!”

Apollo turned to see Phoenix pulling open the door behind him. Trucy and Edgeworth trailed after him, and Edgeworth was shaking out a large black umbrella.

“Mr. Wright, hi,” Apollo said, surprised. He had mentioned the event to Trucy—who now caught sight of him and waved—but he hadn’t expected her to pass the information on.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Phoenix was saying as he brushed an errant strand of damp hair off of his forehead. “I have a proposition for you.”

“…okay?”

“How would you feel about making this mock trial your job interview?”

“My…job interview?” Apollo echoed.

Phoenix nodded. “After what happened…I kinda feel bad. Working at Gavin Law Offices could have been a really good experience for you, career-wise, but…well. So I took a look into my finances and it turns out I could probably afford to hire an assistant, at least for the summer, if you’re interested?”

For a moment, Apollo just stared at him, hesitant to believe what Phoenix was telling him. “At…Wright and Co.?” he asked finally.

“The only business I own, as far as I know,” Phoenix replied. “So, what’d’ya say?”

Apollo shook himself. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Definitely. Thank you.”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. “Ah, don’t get too excited. It won’t be anything like Gavin’s office, you know.”

“I’m counting on it, honestly,” Apollo said. Phoenix just laughed.

“Alright, it’s deal, then. Win this trial, and you’ve got yourself a job.”

Apollo clenched his fists. “You got it, Mr. Wright!”

“You can do it, Polly!” Trucy interjected.

But he was really running late now, so he bid the three of them a hasty farewell and made his way backstage. It took him a couple tries to find the right doorway, and when he finally made it, Juniper was pacing a circle on the floor, while Klavier lounged on a stool, the picture of unruffled idleness—except for the way he twisted a ring around one finger, giving away his anxiety.

“There you are,” Juniper sighed when she noticed Apollo. “We have a few rules to go over. Then you need to go wait with Athena, stage left.”

Apollo nodded, and Juniper launched into her explanation.

“Each of you have a laptop on your bench,” she began. “That will contain all your evidence and the witnesses you can call, and it will update as the trial goes on. Klavier, as the prosecution, will start with all the evidence collected during the police investigation. Apollo will only have a brief case summary.”

Apollo frowned at that, but he supposed it made sense.

“Further evidence can be obtained by asking the right questions. And remember that everyone participating is working from the script—you can press their statements, but at a certain point, they won’t tell you anything more, so try not to get too caught up in your cross-examination. Aside from that—and the time limit—you should be able to treat this as a normal trial. Got it?”

The two mock-lawyers replied in the affirmative.

“Good. We’ll be starting in a few minutes. Good luck.”

When Juniper disappeared into the curtains, Apollo rounded on Klavier.

“Okay, what are you wearing?”

The blazer was okay, despite the unorthodox color—nothing more eye-catching than Miles Edgeworth would wear, and with his firetruck-red ensemble, Apollo couldn’t really protest. But the black button-down (with far too many buttons left unfastened), the thick, glinting chains, and the Gavinners pendant flashing on Klavier’s chest were another matter entirely.

Klavier shrugged, a smiled playing around the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t decide if I wanted to dress for court or for a concert.”

“Why would dressing for a concert even be an option?” Apollo sighed.

“We are on a stage,” Klavier pointed out, nodding towards the dark curtains. “Besides, what’s this?” Klavier tapped Clay’s Gyaxa jacket.

“Oh, it was my umbrella.” Apollo took the jacket off and laid it over a chair. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, then looked up at Klavier with a determined smile.

“You ready for this?”

“Naturally,” Klavier replied, returning the smile. He leaned closer and lifted a hand to slide his fingers under Apollo’s lapel, running his thumb over the fabric. “But something is missing here, I think.”

“You’re one to talk,” Apollo shot back.

“Nein, we prosecutors find it gauche to display our badges on our persons,” Klavier told him, sniffing airily.

“Oh, but none of this is gauche?” Apollo asked, looking Klavier up and down. Klavier only grinned and tossed his bangs.

“This is style, baby,” he replied.

Then, with one hand still gripping Apollo’s lapel, he leaned down and pressed their lips together.

“For luck,” he said when they parted.

“Thank—”

“Because you’re going to need it,” Klavier interrupted. He released Apollo’s vest and straightened with a smirk.

“Hey!”

“No holds barred, ja?” Klavier snapped his fingers. “Let’s rock!”

~~~

“Whoa, that’s some suit,” Athena said as soon as Apollo found his way to the wings on the opposite side of the stage.

“At least you can’t see my navel,” Apollo grumbled.

“…what?”

“Never mind. Are you ready?”

Athena punched one fist into the palm of her other hand. “We’re gonna ace this!”

“You mean I’m gonna ace this,” Apollo corrected. “How many people are out there?”

He couldn’t imagine it was very many; maybe some law students, and people who had friends in the club…

But Athena was avoiding his gaze. “Well…we managed to convince pretty much all the law professors to offer extra credit in all their classes for attending, so…”

Apollo stared at her. “Even Dent?”

“Even Dent.”

“So every single student in those classes is here, then.”

“Yep, pretty much.”

 “Ah.” Apollo hadn’t been feeling particularly nervous about improvising on a stage, but that was when he assumed they would have an audience of maybe a few dozen. But some of the introductory law classes counted as Gen Ed credits—if all of those students were here, plus every pre-law student…

 “You’ll be fine,” Athena assured him. “You’ve already done the courtroom thing, anyway!”

True, but at least during Phoenix’s trial, he hadn’t stepped up to the witness stand entirely clueless. “You’re innocent, right?”

“Of course I am!” Athena cried. “But Junie is smart, so there will be plenty of evidence to say I’m not, too.”

“Right…” If Juniper had written her script properly (which Apollo was sure she had), then he and Klavier would have an equal chance at their desired verdict. Unlike a regular trial, there was no objective truth.

He peered between the curtains, across the stage to the dark wings on the opposite side. Klavier was invisible in the gloom, but Apollo had the feeling he was looking right back.

No holds barred, huh? Well, you asked for it, Gavin.

Sebastian had apparently been charged with introducing the event; the audience fell quiet as he stepped out only the stage. Apollo had always thought of his peer as somewhat timid—he was hardworking and quiet, and, although Apollo only knew the public details of the scandal surrounding his father, he had a sense that had something to do with it. But as Sebastian gave a brief overview of the pre-law society and the mock trial, Apollo felt like he was watching an entirely different person. He was all smiles and sweeping gestures, and Apollo was almost too distracted by the transformation to notice that Sebastian had announced his name. Athena nudged him, and he stepped out onto the stage as the audience clapped.

Apollo’s first thought upon arriving at the impromptu defense bench was that this was nothing like standing in a real courtroom.

It was rather less nerve-wracking, actually, because he could barely see more than the first row of audience members past the glare of the stage lights, and Juniper, taking her seat in the center of the stage on a little raised platform, did not quite have the gravitas of a seasoned judge.

At the opposing bench, Klavier looked right at home in glow of the lights. He didn’t even squint, just beamed out at the audience like he could see each and every one of them. There were a few stray whoops from the crowd, and Apollo wondered how many students were in attendance simply because they were Gavinners fans.

The crack of a gavel echoed through the auditorium, and the applause died down.

“Court is now in session for the trial of Athena Cykes,” Juniper began. “Is the defense ready?”

Apollo straightened his shoulders. “The defense is ready, Your Honor!”

“And the prosecution?”

Klavier smirked. “Achtung, baby! The prosecution is ready to rock.”

Apollo caught Klavier’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Klavier winked back.

Juniper, well on her way to becoming a capable judge, hardly even reacted to Klavier’s theatrics. “Prosecutor Gavin, your opening statement, please?”

“Of course, Fräulein Judge.” Klavier snapped his fingers and turned his attention to the case summary, which Apollo was quickly scanning through on the screen in front of him as Klavier spoke. “At 3:05 p.m., an explosion occurred at the Gyaxa Space Center in the rocket launch pad. Space center employee Clay Terran and the defendant were in the launch pad at the time of the explosion. Video footage shows the defendant and Terran evacuating the launch pad. However, when police came to investigate the explosion, Terran was discovered dead in the boarding lounge. As you can see in these crime scene photographs, he was stabbed in the chest with a sharp implement, although the weapon has yet to be found.”

The autopsy report appeared on Apollo’s screen, and his breath caught. He had to hand it to the underclassmen—those crime scene photos were extremely convincing. He actually had to do a double take, to check that Clay was alive and unbloodied in his seat in the front row, before returning his attention to Klavier’s opening statement.

“The defendant—ah, Fräulein Cykes, was it?—was the last person to see Herr Terran alive, and was therefore the only person with the opportunity to commit this crime.” Klavier finished his statement in a decisive tone, and leveled his gaze at Apollo across the stage.

“Fräulein Cykes, was it?” Athena mimicked under her breath, with an eerily accurate impression of Klavier’s faint affected accent. She leaned closer to Apollo. “Your boyfriend’s an asshole.”

Apollo nodded ruefully. “Yeah, I know,” he whispered back.

“To prove it, I would like to call the lead forensic investigator to the stand,” Klavier told the court. Juniper nodded.

“Ema?” Apollo said, as Ema stepped out from the wings, clad in her lab coat and sporting an armband with FORENSICS emblazoned across it. He hadn’t expected her to actually be involved in the trial.

“That’s ‘Forensic Investigator Skye,’ to you,” she corrected with a grin. She took her spot at the witness stand and looked at Klavier. “So, fop—”

“That’s ‘Prosecutor Gavin,’ to you,” Klavier shot back. “Please explain the details of the case to the court, if you would.”

“Sure thing,” Ema replied.

Behind Juniper, on a large projector screen, an image flickered into view. Apollo recognized it as a diagram of the Cosmos Space Center—he had been there plenty of times with Clay.

“As Prosecutor Gavin said, the explosion occurred just after 3 p.m., here.” She pointed to the launch pad with a laser pointer. “Security footage at the launch pad entrance shows Ms. Cykes supporting Mr. Terran as they evacuated the scene—but Mr. Terran was clearly alive at the time.”

Apollo leaned close to Athena. “Isn’t Ema just being the detective?” he whispered.

“Well, yeah, that’s how Junie wrote it originally,” Athena said, “but Ema really wanted to be called a forensic investigator.”

Ema was still giving her testimony, and Apollo figured he should probably be paying attention. “When the police responded to reports of an explosion, Mr. Terran was discovered in the boarding lounge. He was stabbed in the chest, as can be seen in this photo. The wound is consistent with a sharp, long object, like a knife.”

Now the crime scene photo was displayed on the screen. Apollo grimaced. How’d they get Clay to look so pale? He resisted the impulse to turn around and check on his friend again.

“Your witness, Mr. Justice,” Juniper said. Apollo nodded.

“Ms. Skye—”

“Forensic Investigator Skye,” Ema interrupted.

“Kind of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Justice,” Juniper piped up, “is that really what you want to ask Forensic Investigator Skye about?”

“Uh, no, Your Honor.” Apollo took a breath. “Forensic Investigator Skye,” he said resignedly, “how do you know no one else was in the boarding lounge between the explosion and the arrival of the police? Is there surveillance footage of the lounge?”

Ema shook her head. “There’s no video footage in the lounge, but the room can only be accessed by two doors aside from the launch pad entrance, both of which are locked with fingerprint scanners. If you look at the logs, the only people to enter the lounge after the explosion and before the police arrived were Mr. Terran and the defendant.”

Apollo frowned, scanning over the boarding room entry log on his laptop. “What about before the explosion?”

“Hm?”

“Couldn’t someone have entered the room before the explosion and waited there?”

Ema tapped her chin. “I suppose that’s possible…”

“Objection!”

Apollo didn’t mean to flinch—he just hadn’t expected Klavier to object to anything so quickly. Beside him, Athena snickered.

“Yes, Prosecutor Gavin?” Juniper prompted.

“If Herr Justice would look a little more closely at the court record, he will see himself where his error lies.”

“What?” Apollo frowned down at his screen, then realized…oh. The door logs had a second page—and no one who entered the room had failed to leave it, aside from Clay, and the surveillance footage showed no one else leaving the launch pad before the explosion. “Ack.”

Apollo continued his cross examination, but there was little else to discover. Once he had pressed as much as he thought prudent, Athena spoke up.

“Your Honor,” she said. “I’d like to testify, if I could?”

Juniper looked to Klavier, and Klavier motioned graciously towards the stand.

Athena’s side of the story was simple. Clay had offered to give her a tour of the launch pad. They were to meet outside the boarding lounge and go in together, since Athena didn’t have access. There was an explosion, and she and Clay managed to return to the lounge before Clay collapsed from smoke inhalation. Athena went to get help, but when the police found Clay’s body and checked the surveillance footage, she was arrested.

Apollo poked his forehead. “If you didn’t have access, how did you get into the boarding lounge again?”

Athena shrugged. “Simple. There’s no lock on the inside—otherwise it’s a safety hazard.”

“Right…so, theoretically, someone else could have come in from the launch pad?”

“There wasn’t anyone else. It was just Clay and me.”

“Hmm…” Apollo frowned, and scrolled through the court record. Finally, something caught his eye.

“Objection!” Apollo flung out his finger in a practiced gesture—not that he would ever admit that he had practiced it.

This time, everyone jumped—Apollo realized belatedly that he probably hadn’t needed to object when no one had actually been saying anything.

Juniper turned to him. “Yes, Mr. Justice?”

“Ms. Cykes,” Apollo said, tapping the screen in front of him, “if Clay was the one showing you the launch pad, as you claim, then why does the security footage show him entering the launch pad alone?”

Athena’s eyes widened. “Apollo!” she hissed.

“…what?”

But Athena just shot him a despairing look.

Suddenly, there was a screech of electric guitar. Apollo looked across to the prosecutor’s bench to see Klavier…

…please tell me he is not air guitaring right now.

But Klavier was indeed miming his instrument to the Gavinners tune blaring over the speakers. When he finished, he grinned victoriously across the stage.

“I must thank you, Herr Forehead, for doing my job for me.”

“Huh?”

Klavier snapped his fingers. “You are correct. Fräulein Cykes did not enter the launch pad with Herr Terran. In fact, if you look further into the footage, you will find that she entered several minutes previously.”

Apollo felt his stomach sink.

“So, if Fräulein Cykes was not being given a tour as she claims, then what exactly was she doing in the launch pad, alone, only minutes before an explosion occurred, destroying millions of dollars of important launch equipment?”

“Er…” Apollo slumped. I was so excited about the contradiction I forgot that not all the contradictions are good.

“One is tempted to conclude that the explosion may have been set by Fräulein Cykes, nein?”

Apollo winced. Then he shook himself—this was a setback, but not one he couldn’t handle. Instead of floundering, he smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Interesting theory, Prosecutor Gavin, but as I’m sure you know, in court, evidence is ev—”

Apollo caught himself, but it was too late. Klavier’s self-satisfied smile vanished in an instant, and his eyes widened. Apollo caught his gaze across the stage.

“I…I mean,” Apollo stammered. “Erm. Do you have evidence?” he finished, with somewhat less emphasis than he had intended. Internally, he was kicking himself. Only a few months with Kristoph, and he had internalized his aphorisms that easily?

For what seemed like many moments, but was probably only a second, Klavier seemed frozen. Then he shook himself, brushed a hand through his bangs, and his smug smile reappeared, although it looked a little forced.

“Of course I do, Herr Justice. Here is a photograph of the scene of the explosion.” The image appeared both on Apollo’s screen and on the projection on the stage. “As you can see, the fragments marked here by the Fräulein Forensic Investigator are not a part of the original rocket booster, indicating that the explosion itself was the result of foul play.”

Apollo sucked in a breath, but distantly, he was appreciating the photograph—the club members had clearly just put together a diorama of the scene, but the details were all there, including the scattered fragments of asteroid samples that had been on display.

Okay, there has to be something to use here…

“Hold it!”

Engrossed as he was in examining the picture, Apollo hadn’t noticed Simon step up to the witness stand.

Simon quickly explained how Athena hadn’t been alone in the launch pad—he had let her in, because he had been there running tests with one of the new robots produced in his sister’s lab. Clay had met them later.

Apollo chewed on his lip. “Objection,” he said at last, scrolling through the video evidence. “There’s no footage of you leaving the launch pad.”

“That is because I didn’t leave. The smoke was blocking my path—I took shelter behind some equipment until the sprinklers turned on and the flames died down.”

Apollo chewed on his lip. “And why exactly did Ms. Cykes feel inclined to lie about your presence at the scene, do you think?”

But Simon only shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

Given that this trial had a time limit, Apollo knew the solution couldn’t be too complicated. So if the culprit wasn’t Athena, then that left Simon. Apollo mentally set his sights and requested Simon’s testimony, which Klavier graciously allowed.

“As I said, I was running tests with a new robot developed in my sister’s laboratory,” Simon began. “The robot—Bonco, as she calls it—is designed to locate and collect geological samples of interest. In this case, Bonco was searching for asteroid samples.”

The rest of the testimony provided probably more details than Apollo ever needed or wanted regarding extraterrestrial geology, artificial intelligence, and upcoming Gyaxa missions. In short, it was mostly useless.

Instinctively, Apollo rubbed at his wrist under his bracelet, hoping for a breakthrough, but his abilities wouldn’t do him any good today—Simon was technically lying no matter what, so Apollo could only pick up on mild stage fright.

“And you were showing this robot test to Ms. Cykes?” Apollo asked. Not a particularly pointed question, but he had to find a foothold somewhere.

“She was there, yes,” Simon said. “Ms. Cykes’ mother is involved in the robot program as well.”

“Right...Mr. Blackquill, why didn’t you try to escape the launch pad?”

“I believe I already mentioned that there was too much smoke. Some equipment had fallen in my path, and I thought it would be too dangerous to try to find a way around it.” He paused. “I also hoped to find Bonco before evacuating. The robots my sister produces are extremely valuable pieces of equipment.”

Apollo frowned. “You prioritized a robot over your own safety? That isn't a very good excuse...how do we know you didn't just use the cover of smoke to follow Ms. Cykes and Mr. Terran into the boarding lounge?”

Predictably, Klavier objected to that little bit of speculation, and Apollo was back to square one. But he felt like Simon might be cracking, just a little—his bracelet felt a little tighter than it had a moment ago. If Simon was nervous, then maybe Apollo was getting closer.

He had no choice but to keep trying, but something about the whole situation was rubbing him the wrong way. When he realized what it was, his stomach turned.

This reminded him of that conversation he had had with Kristoph, going over all the ways they could get Olga Orly to confess simply because she had been there.

But who else was there? The comparison to Gramarye’s murder wasn’t helping Apollo’s morale—after all, that case was still technically unsolved.

Not to mention that the audience was getting impatient—Apollo could almost feel people losing focus. Klavier would never forgive him for making this event boring. Glancing up at him, Apollo grimaced when he noticed that Klavier’s ever-present smirk had turned down into a familiar pout.

“Herr Forehead, stop grasping. Maybe Herr Blackquill had an opportunity—a slim opportunity—but he has no motive.” He met Apollo’s eyes, and Apollo could practically hear him—is that all you have, Forehead?

“Maybe he wanted to frame Athena? If he held some kind of grudge…”

“Maybe doesn’t hold up in a court of law,” Klavier reminded him. Apollo scowled and flipped through the evidence, but he had to admit he couldn’t find anything to suggest that Athena and Simon weren’t on good terms within the fiction they had constructed. In fact, their testimonies implied the opposite—Klavier could easily suggest that Simon was actually covering for Athena.

It had to be Simon, but Apollo was running up against dead ends with this testimony. He could practically see the word “badgering” on the tip of Klavier’s tongue. Maybe Athena had something to add? Or…

He scrolled through the witness profiles. It was a tragically short list: Ema, Athena, Simon, Bonco…

Wait.

The robot is on the witness list?

Glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen, Apollo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was running out of time—a wild goose chase would lose him the case. But if it wasn’t Athena, and it wasn’t Simon…

It was a gamble, but Apollo didn’t have a choice.

His eyes popped open, and he urgently turned to Juniper.

“Your Honor,” he said slowly. “Can I call…Bonco to the stand?”

There were a few scattered laughs from the crowd, but when Apollo looked at Juniper, she had a very small smile on her lips.

“You can, Mr. Justice.” She turned. “Mr. Blackquill?”

Klavier sucked in a breath. “Objection,” he called. “Fräulein, you said—”

“I said anyone in the witness list could be called to the stand,” Juniper told him. “And Bonco is on the list.”

“But—”

“Objection overruled, Prosecutor Gavin,” Juniper interrupted. Klavier clenched his teeth, leaning one elbow on the bench and making a fist.

From the wings of the stage, Apollo heard a faint whirring sound. Moments later, a mechanical device about three and a half feet tall trundled out into the lights, waving two claw-like hands.

Surprised, Apollo just stared at Bonco for a moment—he had half-expected the “robot” to just be an underclassman in a costume. Klavier looked equally taken aback, and Apollo had to stifle a laugh. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen his boyfriend look so thoroughly bewildered.

“Name and occupation?” Juniper asked, unfazed, as Bonco arrived at the witness stand.

“B-0NCO IS A SAMPLE COLLECTION ROVER DEVELOPED THROUGH GYAXA GRANT 065937,” the robot announced. Juniper nodded.

“Your witness, Mr. Justice,” she said.

“Er, right.” He looked at the robot, which had swiveled its head to regard him with a blank gaze. “Uh…Bonco.”

“HOW CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?”

How does one interrogate a robot??? “Um…where were you on April 17^th?”

“I WAS PERFORMING A LEARNING EXERCISE WITH UNCLE BLACKQUILL.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow and turned to Simon, whose expression had turned irritated. “Uncle…?”

“They call my sister ‘Mama’,” he explained with a sigh.

“Okay…anyway.” Apollo looked down at his notes. “And during this exercise, you were collecting asteroid samples?”

“I WAS DIRECTED TO LOCATE AND RETRIEVE SAMPLES MATCHING A CERTAIN GEOLOGICAL PROFILE,” Bonco confirmed.

Okay, and what does that have to do with Clay? Apollo wondered. The asteroid samples had been found at the scene, but it wasn’t as if Clay had been trying to run off with them…

Apollo narrowed his eyes.

Or maybe he had.

Bonco was idly rotating its arms, and the metallic appendages gave Apollo the beginnings of an idea—the murder weapon hadn’t been found, after all, and those sample collection devices were certainly knife-like. But it wasn't as though the robot would have murdered a man just because he had stolen a sample...and why would Clay have taken an asteroid sample from the scene anyway, if he was supposed to be evacuating?

Unless Clay hadn’t meant to take a sample from the scene.

The part of Apollo’s brain that had absorbed every single one of Phoenix Wright’s trials over the years drew a parallel—Manfred von Karma, removing evidence from the scene of a crime simply because he hadn't had a choice.

Apollo glanced at the timer in the corner of his screen. No use beating around the bush—this was the only theory he had. “And did you find one of these samples in Clay’s body?”

 “NO CLAY MINERALS WERE PRESENT NEAR THE SAMPLE. WOULD YOU LIKE A GEOCHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF THE COLLECTED SAMPLES?”

Apollo sighed. “Uh, no, that’s fine. What I meant was—”

“Bonco’s AI is not as sophisticated as some of the other robots in the lab,” Simon interrupted. “It doesn’t understand your question.”

“Right…” Apollo pressed his index finger to his forehead. “Okay, so…Bonco, the last sample that you collected…when you found it…were there signs of life?”

“I AM NOT PROGRAMMED TO DETECT BIOLOGICAL SIGNATURES.”

Simon spoke up again. “Bonco isn’t programmed to—”

“Yeah, I heard him.” Okay, so maybe cross-examining the robot wasn’t a good idea…

Across the stage, Klavier snapped his fingers. “Achtung! It looks like your little gamble might not pay off, Herr Forehead.”

Apollo shot him a sour look (which earned him a smirk in response) but otherwise ignored Klavier. Instead, he focused on Bonco. If the robot wasn’t meant to be a witness…

…maybe the robot is evidence.

“Ema!” he exclaimed, slamming his fists on the bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few audience members jump.

Ema, lounging in her chair, just made a show of examining her nails.

“…Ema?” Apollo tried again. Then he remembered. “Sorry—Forensic Investigator Skye?”

Ema straightened up immediately. “Yes, Mr. Justice?”

“Is it possible to do some additional forensic tests?”

A grin spread across Ema’s lips. “What would you like to test?”

Apollo looked at Bonco and smiled. “Let’s test that robot’s sample collection device…with luminol.”

Ema was already taking out a spray bottle and a UV light. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said.

“Hold it!”

Simon had come to stand between Ema and the robot. “This is a valuable scientific instrument—you cannot just go spraying it with chemicals.”

“It may be a valuable scientific instrument, but it also might be a murder weapon,” Ema told him, ducking around his outstretched arm.

“Not to mention that this test could get you off the hook, Mr. Blackquill,” Apollo pointed out. “Unless…you already know what she’s going to find…?”

Simon sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. To be perfectly honest, Apollo thought he overacted the part a little, but he decided to ignore it.

“I imagine it went something like this,” Apollo went on. “The explosion scattered the asteroid samples, and one of them struck Mr. Terran. However, the injury was not fatal, and Mr. Terran made it to the boarding lounge before collapsing from oxygen deprivation. Meanwhile, Bonco’s sample collection protocol was still running—noticing that a sample had moved, the robot went to the boarding lounge to retrieve it. In extracting the sample, the robot nicked Clay’s heart, and by the time Athena returned, he was dead.”

Ema seemed to have finished spraying Bonco’s claw-like hands. She looked at Apollo. “Ready?”

“When you are, Forensic Investigator.”

Ema turned on her UV light with a flourish. Immediately, Bonco’s claws began to glow, and numerous other splotches lit up on its body as well, painting a grisly image of Clay’s death. Apollo grimaced, but pressed on.

“Of course, Bonco wasn’t found covered in blood. Someone had to have cleaned him off, and that someone probably had an interest in covering up the fact that a ‘valuable scientific instrument’ had killed a man by mistake.” He turned to Simon. “Right, Mr. Blackquill?”

Simon clenched his teeth. “This program is of crucial importance to the HAT-2 mission. A setback like this—”

Leaning back and crossing his arms, Apollo grinned. “And I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. Simon glared.

“Well, Prosecutor Gavin?” Juniper spoke up. “We’re running out of time. Do you have any response to the defense’s claims?”

Klavier met Apollo’s eyes across the stage. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were piercing—Apollo could practically see him evaluating possible retorts and discarding them.

Then Klavier dropped his gaze, let out a little laugh, and relaxed, straightening up and hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

“Nein, Fräulein Judge,” he said at last, with a small smile. “The prosecution rests.”

“Very well. In that case, I will issue my verdict.” Juniper gave the mock-courtroom a sweeping look, then went on. “For the murder of Clay Terran, I pronounce the defendant, Athena Cykes, not guilty.”

And just like that, it was over. There was a roar of applause from the audience, and Apollo only heard a faint pop to warn him before a rain of confetti was showering the stage.

“Nice work, Apollo!” Athena said, punching him on the shoulder. “I really didn’t think we’d get to do that ending!”

“I really didn’t think that would actually work,” Apollo replied. His heart was racing—he hadn’t even noticed until now. He took a deep breath and felt his lips spread into a smile. “Okay, that was fun.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Klavier brushing a piece of confetti out of his bangs. He looked up and met Apollo’s eyes, shaking his head with amused disbelief.

Sebastian reappeared to thank the audience, and the crowd started filing out—although a few people came up to the stage to get a closer look at Bonco. A real Gyaxa robot…Apollo hadn’t doubted that the club would put together a good show, but he never expected they would go this far.

The stage lights and overlapping conversations were starting to feel a little overwhelming, so Apollo retreated into the wings, running a hand through his hair to dislodge a few pieces of confetti. But he couldn’t shake the smile from his lips as he wandered towards the backstage hallway. Maybe none of this had been real, but Apollo felt a warm glow blossoming in his chest nonetheless—part of it was just the lingering thrill of his victory, but the rest was a comfortable reassurance.

This is what I want to do with my life.

He knew from experience that real trials were more difficult, messier. But that was a challenge he couldn’t wait to take on. He was getting fired up again just thinking about it.

At the far end of the backstage corridor, Klavier rounded the corner, caught sight of Apollo, and started striding towards him. Apollo smiled triumphantly.

“So, what was all that about me needing luck—” he began as Klavier approached, but he was interrupted when Klavier leaned down, slipped an arm around Apollo’s waist, and crashed their lips together.

“Klavier, what—” Apollo managed to say once Klavier pulled back for a breath.

“I was not prepared,” Klavier said, voice low.

“What, are you making excuses now?” Apollo leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

“I was not prepared for what you would look like behind that bench,” Klavier clarified. “It is absurd that someone can look so good while saying the most ridiculous things.”

Apollo scowled. “Hey, those ridiculous things turned out to be right!”

“Ja, ja, I know,” Klavier murmured, before pressing his lips to Apollo’s again. “You’re gorgeous, did I say that already? I did not properly appreciate this vest before.”

“Uh, it was Clay's idea..." Apollo stammered, flushing.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky, schatzi.”

The fact that Klavier Gavin, objectively the most attractive person on campus, was babbling about Apollo’s looks was making Apollo’s head spin. Not to mention that Klavier had abandoned his lips to mouth kisses against his jaw, his neck, instead, while one hand snuck into Apollo’s back pocket and the other moved to loosen his tie.

“Klavier…” Apollo began reluctantly, even as his fingers trailed up under the hem of Klavier’s shirt, seemingly of their own volition. “We’re supposed to be going out for pizza with everyone.”

“Must we?” Klavier whined, his lips brushing Apollo’s neck. Apollo could feel his resolve cracking, but…

“Someone is going to come looking for us any minute,” he reminded Klavier.

Klavier heaved a sigh. “Fine.” He ran his fingers along Apollo’s jaw and captured his lips in one more searing kiss. “Later, then,” he said, with a glint in his eye.

Apollo shivered.

But sure enough, seconds later, Athena appeared at the far end of the backstage area. “What are you guys still doing back here?” she asked. “We’re ready to go!”

Apollo adjusted his vest self-consciously—he could still feel Klavier’s hands dancing over the fabric. “We’re coming!” he called.  

The rest of the club was assembled in the lobby, along with Clay and Ema. Clay rushed up to him first.

“Ghost high-five!” he exclaimed. “Thanks for avenging my murder, Pollo!”

“Anytime,” Apollo told him, slapping Clay’s hand. “Was the robot your idea?”

“Nope!” Clay said. “Murder by space rock was, though.”

“The robot was Simon’s,” Athena told him. “He got his sister’s help and everything.”

“Huh. And…you did the makeup?” he guessed, turning to Robin.

She beamed. “Yep! Ema made the blood spatters realistic, though.”

“Just in case you wanted to analyze them,” Ema put in, appearing next to Clay. She sounded faintly disappointed that such an analysis hadn’t come up.

“Well, spectacular job, everyone,” Klavier said, looking around the group. “I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out—well, excepting the situation where I won.”

“Thanks, prez!” Athena replied, shooting a peace sign. Juniper, standing beside her, looked pleased.

“Apollo,” said a voice, and Apollo turned away from the club to see Phoenix—he hadn’t noticed him, Trucy, and Edgeworth standing off to the side of the lobby. Leaving Klavier to further compliment the underclassmen’s efforts, Apollo went to join them.

Phoenix was holding out his hand. For a few seconds, Apollo just stared—in all the excitement, he had almost forgotten about Phoenix’s deal.

“Welcome aboard,” Phoenix said with a smile, once Apollo finally took his hand.

“Yay, Polly!” Trucy cheered, pushing past Phoenix to give Apollo a hug, and nearly knocking him over in the process. “Congrats on being the newest member of the Wright Anything Agency!”

Apollo’s brow furrowed, and he looked at Phoenix. “Wright…Anything Agency?”

“Ah…it’s still Wright and Co…for now,” he said, glancing at Trucy.

Trucy bounced on the balls of her feet. “But a law office is so limited!” she argued. “I think we should be recruiting all types of talent. Then even Vera could work for us!”

Apollo looked around. “Did Vera come today?” He hadn’t seen her since the day she had woken up.

Trucy giggled, and there was a quiet cough from Apollo’s right. He turned towards the sound and jumped.

“Oh! Vera, hi.”

The young artist didn’t seem upset that she had gone unnoticed. Carefully, she tore a page from the sketchbook in her arms and handed it to Apollo.

Turning the page over, Apollo found a pencil sketch of a vest-clad figure flinging out one arm in an objecting pose, rendered in sketchy action lines that made it look like something out of a comic book. His eyes widened.

“Oh, wow, Vera, thank you,” he said, and she gave a small smile.

“It’s not much compared to what you did for me,” she told him, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “But…”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he interrupted seriously. “But thank you, anyway.” Still looking at the sketch, he leaned closer to Trucy. “Did I really look that cool?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “At points.”

“Your form could use a little work,” Phoenix put in.

Apollo spun towards him, eyes wide. “Really? But—”

“And your volume,” Trucy added, wincing.

“Yeah, we decided pretty early on that we weren’t going to give him a mic,” a voice interjected, and Athena appeared by Apollo’s shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Athena just laughed and turned from him to Phoenix. “Anyway, Mr. Wright!” she said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Athena Cykes, aspiring defense attorney!”

Phoenix took her hand, wincing slightly at Athena’s unexpectedly firm grip. “Nice work today,” he told her.

“Thanks! We’re all honored that you and the Chief Prosecutor came,” she told him. “That Q&A you did last semester was amazing.”

“Yeah, that was a lot of fun,” Phoenix replied. “We’d love to do another, I’m sure we have more stories to tell.”

Athena’s eyes lit up. “Well, if that’s the case…we’re all going out for pizza now, if you guys want to join us?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. Can’t blame her for networking, I guess.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Trucy interjected, and that was all it took.

The pizza restaurant was only a block away, so they walked there as a group. The rain had let up, leaving the evening pleasantly cool, and Apollo appreciated the gentle breeze on his face—the stage had started to get a little stifling with all the lights. Their group was large, so they trailed out along nearly half the block, and Klavier took a few moments finding his way from where he had been talking to the underclassmen to Apollo’s side.

He slipped their hands together in an innocent enough gesture, but Apollo still felt a thrill when Klavier rubbed his thumb over Apollo’s.

“Klavier,” Apollo heard from Klavier’s other side. Edgeworth had appeared there, leaving Phoenix and Trucy with Athena towards the back of the group. “It occurs to me that I may have been remiss.”

With a small frown, Klavier turned to him. “How so?”

“I was operating under the assumption that you would be returning to the prosecutor’s office this summer, but I don’t believe I ever asked. I would be very glad to have you back, if you’re interested.”

Klavier’s eyes widened. “I…ja, of course. But I think I missed the application deadline, after—”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Edgeworth interrupted. “And besides, since you are a returning intern, so the application process is more of a formality.”

Klavier released Apollo’s hand for a moment to shake the Chief Prosecutor’s. “Danke, Herr Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth gave one of his slight smiles, which Apollo was started to think was nearly the equivalent of a full-on grin in his book. “Bitte,” he replied. “There are a few forms to complete, and I will send them your way in the next few days.” His gaze shifted to Apollo. “And excellent work today, Apollo—my offer still stands, but Wright’s work will no doubt be more beneficial to you.”

With that, he nodded to the two of them and slowed his pace to join Phoenix and Trucy again.

The hostess at the pizza restaurant paled when the entire pre-law society (and then some) crowded into her foyer, but she seemed relieved to hear they had a reservation. Even so, the tables that had been pushed together to accommodate the group didn’t have quite enough seats—Apollo wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but he and Klavier ended up at an extra booth across from Edgeworth and Phoenix.

Didn’t Athena want to talk to them?? Apollo wondered, trying to catch her eye, but she was happily chatting with Trucy, Vera, and Ema.

Not that having dinner with the district’s finest legal minds was a problem, exactly, it was just that, catching sight of the rings on Phoenix’s and Edgeworth’s left hands, Apollo was getting a weird dinner-with-the-parents sort of vibe.

Well, either that, or the situation felt like a very unlikely double date, which was…worse. Apollo exchanged a glance with Klavier, who just returned a bemused shrug.

But a waitress came for their drink orders, and by the time she returned, Phoenix had started asking Klavier about how the afternoon’s event had compared to mock trials at Themis, and Apollo wondered if his worries had been unfounded.

Then, after a lull in the conversation, Phoenix glanced between Klavier and Apollo.

“So, I hear you two are dating now,” he said conversationally. He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. “Am I going to have to give you the Talk?”

Klavier inhaled sharply and started choking on his soda. Apollo nearly dropped his menu, his face flushing as red as his suit.

“Uh—”

“He means the ‘how to maintain an ethical relationship with the opposing counsel’ talk,” Edgeworth interposed, shooting Phoenix an exasperated look. “The entirety of which is, ‘Don’t. Pick one.’”

“R-right,” Apollo stammered. Klavier was still coughing soda out of his lungs. Phoenix looked incredibly amused.

“What’d you think I meant?” he asked, grinning. “But yeah, Miles is right. Just something to keep in mind.”

Apollo stared at him, feeling like he might now be permanently scarred by the mental image Phoenix had placed in his head, featuring Famous Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright detailing the birds and the bees. “Uh. …thanks.”

Klavier finally recovered, although his face was still a little pink. “Do you ever miss it?” he asked the two lawyers. “Facing off in court?”

Phoenix and Edgeworth exchanged a glance.

“I deal with just as much of his nonsense outside of the courtroom as I did in it,” Edgeworth said finally.

“And there you have it,” Phoenix said with an unabashed smile, leaning to one side to knock his shoulder against Edgeworth’s. Edgeworth looked down at his menu, but Apollo didn’t miss the tiny upturn of his lips.

Their dinner proceeded much in the same manner, at time excruciatingly uncomfortable and at other unexpectedly educational. It was later, when they were mostly done eating and Apollo was engaged in a discussion about the state of Khura’in with Edgeworth, when Apollo felt Klavier’s hand settle on his thigh under the table. Apollo had to exert a great deal of willpower not to fumble with the point he was trying to explain—he shot a glance at Klavier, but his boyfriend ignored him. For all the world, he looked as though he was just listening intently to Edgeworth’s response, as his fingers shifted against Apollo’s thigh unseen. But it was a good thing that Klavier was listening, because when Edgeworth stopped talking, Apollo realized he hadn’t heard a word of what had been said, and Klavier inserted himself into the conversation before Apollo’s distraction could be noticed.

But with the contact, Apollo thoughts drifted back to the way Klavier had kissed him in the backstage hallway. And then he couldn’t stop thinking about it, as they settled the check and the left the restaurant. The heat of Klavier’s lips, the pressure of his hands… a jumble of imagined sensations crowded his thoughts, and it took a great deal of effort to force them back so he could give the club another proper congratulating as they all parted ways.

Klavier was no doubt entertaining a similar line of thought, as he took Apollo’s hand and leaned close. “My place?” he murmured in Apollo’s ear, as the group dispersed along various routes back to campus.

“No objections here,” Apollo replied, and Klavier smiled and tugged him closer as they walked.

They were so caught up in each other that they didn’t notice the two veteran lawyers watching them go.

“Ah, youth,” Phoenix sighed. “We were like that during our honeymoon phase?”

“What would you consider to be our honeymoon phase, exactly?” Edgeworth inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I dunno. I guess our…honeymoon?” he said doubtfully.

“Such as it was.” Edgeworth had taken them to Germany. A man had been murdered, the concierge at their hotel had been framed for it, and Phoenix had been given a chance to flex his defending muscles in another country. Phoenix always remarked that they couldn’t really have expected it to go any differently.

“You keep comparing them to us,” Edgeworth went on, a small crease appearing between his brows, “but they’re really quite different, I think.”

“Oh, definitely,” Phoenix agreed. “They’re way more put-together than we were at that age.”

“Hm.” Edgeworth let out a short huff of a laugh. “I think we can still find something to offer them, out of all our years of experience.”

“For sure,” Phoenix laughed. “They haven’t seen anything yet.”

~~~

The Gavinners house was empty when Klavier and Apollo returned, save Vongole, who burst up from her bed in the living room upon their arrival and skidded across the floor to greet them. After taking an obligatory few minutes to scratch behind her ears and remind her what a good dog she was, they started up the stairs.

“Where’s your band?” Apollo wondered aloud as he followed Klavier to his room.

Klavier shrugged. “I think Daryan and Erik had…something? Sam could be anywhere.” Apollo raised an eyebrow at his flippancy. “Quite honestly, I do not care,” Klavier went on, and Apollo found that he didn’t, either, as Klavier placed his hands on Apollo’s hips and backed him up a few steps until he was leaning against the bed. He leaned close, so their foreheads were almost touching, and just stayed there for a moment, eyes half-closed.

“You were amazing today,” Klavier said at last, his voice low.

Apollo was about to reply in kind, but then he reconsidered. “You were kind of an asshole, honestly.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Klavier decided, grinning. “I had to go hard on you—we wouldn’t want to be accused of collusion.”

Apollo shifted his hands over Klavier’s chest and started to slowly undo his top button (really, his fourth button, since half of them were already open). “No, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

With a chuckle, Klavier moved so his lips were just millimeters from Apollo’s. Apollo stayed where he was, just appreciating the closeness and the electricity that seemed to vibrate between them.

Klavier’s voice dropped even quieter, and Apollo could feel the words whispered against his lips.

“Apollo Justice,” Klavier said, with sudden formality. “I cannot wait to see what you become.”

Apollo only had time to draw a breath before Klavier closed the distance between them.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, but one that was taut with expectation, both for what Apollo anticipated in the following minutes, and for the more distant future promised in Klavier’s words. Apollo wanted to return the sentiment, but for now he settled for kissing back, trusting that Klavier would understand.

The moment stretched longer than the seconds which contained it—then, with a quiet sigh, Klavier parted his lips and pressed closer, and time seemed to snap back to its usual pace. He snuck a finger under Apollo’s tie to loosen it, and Apollo moved to continue his slow unfastening of Klavier’s shirt.

There were only a few buttons left, so it wasn’t long before Apollo was pushing the shirt off Klavier’s shoulders. Klavier made more efficient work of Apollo’s vest and shirt, then wrapped his arms around him to pull him closer.

Something cold and pointed touched Apollo’s bare chest, and Apollo realized he hadn’t removed Klavier’s necklace. He broke away from Klavier’s lips and took the pendant in one hand.

“Where on earth did you even get this?” Apollo asked him. “It’s so…”

“You know you can take off my clothes without criticizing them, ja, schatzi?” Klavier put in.

“Are you wearing stupid accessories just to motivate me to take them off faster?”

“It’s a welcome side effect,” Klavier told him, grinning shamelessly before leaning in to kiss him again. Reluctant to part from him, Apollo struggled a bit with the necklace, but he finally managed to remove it and drop it a safe distance away where it wouldn’t end up stabbing anybody.

He intended to do the same with the equally offensive belt, but Klavier distracted him for a time, with his tongue exploring Apollo’s mouth and the way his hips pinned Apollo against the edge of the bed. And when Apollo finally found the clasp of the chain, Klavier was faster—he undid the buckle of Apollo’s belt, and the chains links slipped from Apollo’s fingers as Klavier dropped to his knees.

“If I may?” he purred, looking up at Apollo from under dark lashes, with a smile that was both polite and incredibly mischievous. Apollo wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t quite manage to even pretend to be exasperated, not when Klavier was ridding him of his pants and hooking a finger under the waistband of his boxers.

At this point, Apollo wasn’t exactly a stranger to Klavier’s multitalented mouth, but that didn’t make the sensation of his tongue on his skin any less dazzling. Apollo threaded his fingers through platinum hair, Klavier’s name escaping his lips in something between a sigh and a groan. 

Apollo required a moment to recover once Klavier sat back on his haunches, his lips turned up in a satisfied smirk and strands of hair starting to unwind from its twist. But soon enough, he was pulling Klavier to his feet again and fumbling with the links of his belt.

“This,” he said decisively, “is coming off now.”

Klavier just laughed, and moments later, the chains fell heavily to the floor along with Klavier’s jeans, and Apollo pushed Klavier back towards the bed, following closely after him.

Even months ago, when Apollo had been making excuses to avoid the quad simply because of Klavier’s presence, there was one thing that Apollo hadn’t been able to deny, and that was the fact that Klavier had an amazing voice. At the time, Klavier’s vocal skill had actually been another point against him—it was somehow especially frustrating that the pretentious genius who so bothered Apollo in class also had legitimate musical talent.

But while Klavier’s singing voice was the envy of theater students and smaller campus bands alike, Apollo thought that the quiet gasps and hums that fell from his lips as he scattered kisses over his skin were some of the most musical sounds Apollo had ever heard from him.

And Apollo made it his mission to coax more of these sounds from Klavier now. It wasn’t difficult—a hand slipped under the waistband of Klavier’s briefs had him breathily gasping Apollo’s name, and although Apollo had intended to draw things out a little longer, the sound was addicting, and he found it too difficult to resist stroking Klavier to completion.

They had plenty of time, anyway, Apollo reflected as Klavier shuddered beneath him and the arch of his back finally relaxed, reaching up after a moment to pull Apollo down into another kiss—although not before murmuring a quiet “I love you” against his lips.

Apollo wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, in quiet closeness, with occasional words of affection exchanged between lingering touches and slow kisses.  It could have been days, for all he cared.

He was dedicating himself to the tanned skin at the junction of Klavier’s neck and shoulder, with the aim of leaving a mark there similar to the one that had triggered so much anxiety a few weeks before, when Klavier suddenly started to sit up, almost knocking his jaw against Apollo’s forehead in the process.

“Ah!”

“Wh—?” Apollo began, not without a trace of alarm, but Klavier was talking over him.

“The grant rejection,” he gasped, clapping a hand to his forehead as he fell back to the pillows. “I should have presented the grant rejection.”

Apollo blinked at him, supporting himself on one elbow as he tried to catch on to Klavier's train of thought. “...the what?”

Klavier didn’t seem to hear him. He rubbed his temple with one hand, his eyes squeezed shut. “Verdammt. I was on the right track with the explosion, but then Simon’s testimony got away from me—although even then, I could have—”

Apollo placed a finger over Klavier’s lips, and he fell quiet, glancing up at Apollo as though he was just now realizing that he was still there.

“Were you really thinking about the trial while I was making out with you?” Apollo asked, raising one eyebrow.

Klavier looked away. “I…in the back of my mind, you know…”

“…wow.”

“Schatzi, it’s like when you can’t remember a song title and it comes to you out of the blue, that’s all.” Klavier’s expression was apologetic.

“Hm.” Apollo sat back so he was settled in Klavier’s lap and crossed his arms. “So, was that not very good, or—”

“Liebling, you’re perfect,” Klavier sighed, with an exasperated smile. He reached out and tugged on Apollo’s arm. “Come back here.”

Apollo didn’t move. “Sure there’s nothing else you want to say?”

Klavier bit his lip. “…if I had pressed Athena on the explosion, how would you have countered?”

For a moment, Apollo just stared at him, reluctant to drag his thoughts back to the trial, but then he sighed, defeated. “Motive. Athena’s mom was involved in that mission, why would Athena sabotage it?”

Klavier’s eyes sparkled. “But that’s just it—the grant rejection is the motive.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t remember that evidence.”

Klavier huffed. “I didn’t get around to presenting it. But funding was tight with the space program in general. They were working with outdated equipment that they couldn’t replace because it technically still worked. But if something were to happen to that equipment…”

“You’re saying that Athena set the explosion to help the program?” Apollo poked his forehead. “But even if that was the case, Clay was still killed because of the asteroid shard and Bonco, right? It’d be a stretch to say Athena was guilty of murder, even if the explosion set those events in motion.”

“Nein, that’s where you’re wrong.” Klavier crossed his arms over his bare chest. “This isn’t a real case, remember? What you ‘proved’ today isn’t necessarily true. Imagine this scenario, instead: Athena—perhaps with Simon’s help—set the explosion, but Clay caught her in the act. The asteroid shard may or may not have come up—either way, Athena could have killed him and easily disposed of the murder weapon before the police arrived.”

Apollo frowned. “That’s a nice theory, Prosecutor Gavin…”

“Well, Herr Forehead, excuse me for not absconding with the entire court record when I had the chance,” Klavier shot back, pouting. “The motives are all there, and so is the evidence. If I’d had more time to prepare, there’s no doubt Athena would have been found guilt—”

As Klavier spoke, Apollo had been slowly running his hands along Klavier’s torso as he bent down to resume the kisses he had been trailing down his neck. He pressed his thigh between Klavier’s legs, and the would-be prosecutor broke off with a gasp, reflexively rolling his hips.

“Cheap tricks, Forehead,” he murmured as Apollo’s tongue found his collarbone. “You just don’t want to admit I’m—mm—right…”

“I’ll admit you’re right as much as you want—tomorrow,” Apollo told him, as he reached over the bedside table in search of some imminent necessities. “For now, I kinda want to enjoy my victory.”

Apollo kissed him on the lips again, slow and deep, and Klavier’s eyes fluttered closed as he finally gave in.

“Ja, okay,” he murmured, sighing as he leaned into Apollo’s touch. “The prosecution rests.”

It wasn’t until study days, the week before finals, that Apollo was finally able to coordinate a time to get lunch with Nahyuta. The Khura’inese visitor had apparently acclimatized to American culture well; the restaurant he suggested was a burger joint.

Despite seeing each other every week at club meetings and in class, Apollo realized that he hadn’t ever asked Nahyuta how he was liking his year abroad. The subject of cultural differences distracted them for a while as they got their food and settled at their table, and they were both almost finished with their meals by the time Apollo remembered what he had actually wanted to talk to his brother about.

“So, when exactly are you going back?”

It was a simple enough question, so Apollo was surprised when Nahyuta hesitated, a french fry halfway to his mouth.

“Ah…not until September, actually,” he said, after a pause. “I found an internship for the summer, so I can stay a little longer.”

Apollo raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Where?”

Nahyuta had stuffed a few fries in his mouth in an evasive sort of way. “…New York,” he said when he finally finished chewing, avoiding Apollo’s gaze. “Simon will be attending law school there, so…we’ll be sharing an apartment.”

“Yuty,” Apollo gasped with mock astonishment, “what would the Holy Mother think?”

Nahyuta shot him a withering glare, but Apollo had also seen the same glare on a ten-year-old version of his brother, so it did not have much effect.

“I’m just taking his extra bedroom,” Nahyuta said stiffly. “He was having difficulty finding a roommate who would tolerate a pet hawk.”

“I see…” Apollo said, but he wasn’t going to let Nahyuta off the hook that easily. That said, teasing would only serve to irritate him, so he let his tone turn serious. “Nahyuta,” he began, “how do you feel about him?”

Nahyuta scoffed. “I would not subject myself to living with him if I did not—”

“You know what I mean,” Apollo sighed. “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

But Nahyuta’s glare didn’t soften. “I know,” he replied testily. “And I—” He let out his breath in a huff. “The situation is a little more complicated than that.”

Apollo wanted to reply with something like, “More complicated than suspecting his brother of murder?” but he got the sense that Nahyuta was slowly opening up, so he waited, instead.

“I cannot keep running,” Nahyuta said, looking down at his french fries. “I will have to return to Khura’in eventually, and when I do…”

“Lots of couples are long distance,” Apollo pointed out.

“It is not just the distance.” Nahyuta pressed his thumb into his palm. “There are…circumstances…Simon wouldn’t—”

“I’m sure if you talked to him—”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” Nahyuta burst out, and Apollo flinched, surprised. Nahyuta’s eyes flashed, but settled back to their serene jade an instant later, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Apollo. Perhaps he would understand, but I do not want to drag him into this.” He looked up and met Apollo’s eyes. “And I do not want to drag you into it, either.”

Apollo’s brow creased. “But what if I want to be dragged into it? You guys are the closest thing I have to family.”

Nahyuta gave a sad smile. “Quite honestly, I think the Terrans deserve that title more than we do,” he said.

Apollo wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t quite find the words. With the years he spent being bumped between different foster families, his only constant throughout grade school and high school had been Clay and his dad.

“It has put my mind at rest, seeing you here,” Nahyuta went on. “You’ve done well for yourself without us. I’m glad you…got out, as it were. That’s all our father wanted for you, you know.”

Apollo frowned. “And what about for you?”

“I’m part of this, no matter what,” Nahyuta told him, and there was something suddenly regal in his faint smile, as if to remind Apollo why.

Apollo sighed. “You’re always welcome here, you know.”

Nahyuta inclined his head. “Thank you. And I hope you know the same goes for you. I know the situation is difficult, but Father—” Nahyuta broke off. “Oh, Holy Mother.”

From his tone, Apollo recognized the outburst for the oath that it was.

“What?”

“Apollo, you will have to forgive me,” Nahyuta said. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and started rummaging around in his bag, eventually coming up with his wallet. “When I told Father I would be coming here, he asked me to pass this along to you, and I entirely forgot…” Nahyuta tugged something out of his wallet, then passed it across the table. “Here.”

Nahyuta had handed him a folded piece of paper. Written on it in faded pencil were the words Justice performing. Apollo frowned.

“Open it,” Nahyuta prompted.

Apollo did so, and his breath caught in his throat.

The paper was a folded photograph. It showed a dim-lit scene, maybe a bar, but the focal point was a seated man, holding a guitar in his lap and caught mid-song. He was wearing a hat, but two familiar-looking locks of hair stuck out from under it.

Apollo found himself unable to lift his eyes from the photograph. It shook slightly before his gaze—his hands were trembling. “…Nahyuta, what…?”

“He has been trying to find this for years,” Nahyuta said. “The only picture he has of your father.”

“My…” Of course it was his father. The man in the photograph looked exactly like him—a little younger, even. Younger…I’ve outlived my father?

“They only knew each other briefly,” Nahyuta continued. “I did not get all the details. I think Father was hoping you would…reach out,” he finished quietly.

Apollo clenched his jaw, and the motion didn’t go unnoticed.

“He really does miss you,” Nahyuta added, even more quietly. “Surely now you understand why he—”

“Just because I understand doesn’t mean I have to agree,” Apollo shot back. “What, he sends me a cryptic photo just so I’ll call him? I don’t think so.”

But even to him, the words felt hollow. It wasn’t exactly that he disagreed with what Dhurke had done to protect him from the darkness at the heart of Khura’in, but there was still a part of him that was stuck in the past. Twelve years ago, on a plane for the first time—alone. Arriving in a foreign country—alone. Meeting judges and lawyers, fidgeting through hearings and interviews as officials tried to figure out where his citizenship stood—alone.

He had been ten. Maybe now he could understand why Dhurke couldn’t have at least come with him, but back then, he hadn’t, and that hurt had balled up into a heavy stone at the center of his chest and stayed there.

But even that old ache was far from his thoughts as he looked down at the photograph in his hands. Justice performing. Performing where? Singing what? Why had he been in Khura’in, anyway? Questions Apollo hadn’t even realized he’d been collecting all crowded to the forefront of his mind at once, each vying for attention.

“That’s not—” Nahyuta began, but he seemed to think better of it. He let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Apollo, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” Apollo cut him off. “Thanks for passing this along,” he added shortly.

“I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” Nahyuta said apologetically, his tone earnest. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” Apollo muttered again, looking down at his remaining fries. His appetite had vanished. Nahyuta seemed similarly disinterested in the last few bites of his burger, and he started to gather up their trash, leaving Apollo alone for a moment to discard it.

When Nahyuta returned, Apollo was staring at the photo again.

“Did, um…did Dhurke tell you his name?” he ventured after a moment.

He didn’t look up, but he could see Nahyuta shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “He only knew him as Justice, I believe.”

Apollo tried not to feel disappointed. “Oh.”

Part of him wanted to pore over every detail of the picture in his hands, as if he could somehow discern more information just by staring at it, but his emotions felt too volatile at the moment, and he didn’t want to start crying in the middle of the restaurant. He folded the photo and placed it carefully in his wallet.

“Should we go?” Nahyuta asked, carefully.

Apollo nodded, and they were both silent as they left the restaurant.

Nahyuta wouldn’t have answers to any of the questions swirling in Apollo’s head, so Apollo made an effort to ignore them for the time being. They had been talking about something else, hadn’t they? It took him a moment to even remember.

Simon Blackquill. Right.

 “So, uh…” Apollo began as they started down the sidewalk back towards campus, “when do you leave? For New York.”

If Nahyuta was surprised by the subject change, he hid it well. “Ah, well, Simon has to graduate, so after commencement.”

“Oh, right.” Apollo looked at his feet. “So I’ll…see you before then, probably.”

“Yes, at our exam, at least,” Nahyuta reminded him, with a small smile.

“Yeah…well, we should try to get together again, aside from that.” As conflicted as Apollo felt about Dhurke at the moment, it was unfair to take any of that out on Nahyuta. He really had enjoyed seeing his brother again, even if they perhaps hadn’t made the most of their time.

Nahyuta’s smile widened just slightly. “I would like that.”

Apollo glanced at him and did his best to muster a sly expression. “I still can’t believe you’re moving in with Simon.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Nahyuta sighed, his smile instantly disappearing. “We will be roommates, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure…”

“Apollo…”

“How was your soba date, by the way?” Apollo asked, recalling Simon’s inquiry from a few weeks back.

“It was not a date! It was dinner!”

“You know, that’s kind of what I said about my first date with Klavier…”

Nahyuta covered his face with one hand. “Why do I tell you anything.”

~~~

“What’s wrong?”

Klavier didn’t even bother saying hello, when he met up with Apollo in the main academic quad after Apollo and Nahyuta had parted ways. Without the topic of Nahyuta’s love life to distract him, Apollo’s thoughts had quickly drifted back to the photograph in his pocket, and his preoccupation was no doubt evident in his expression.

Klavier’s eyes were narrowed in concern, and he reached for Apollo’s hand like it was instinct.

Apollo let out a breath. “Well, ah…Nahyuta had something for me.”

He dug out his wallet and wordlessly handed over the photo, and Klavier took it from him with an interested frown. His eyes moved from the picture, to Apollo, and then to the picture again, and his mouth fell open.

“Your…father?” he guessed.

Without lifting his head, Apollo looked up at him. “…is it that obvious?”

Klavier reached out and brushed his fingers through Apollo’s hair, arranging the spikes so they rested over his forehead instead. “You’re his spitting image.”

Apollo felt an unfamiliar warm tightness in his chest. He had never had any family to be compared to before.

Slowing to a stop, Klavier peered at him more closely. “Apollo…”

“Dhurke didn’t even know his full name,” Apollo said quickly. “But…he was a musician, I guess, which is…interesting? Cool? I don’t even know, it’s just—it’s so—”

It was no more appropriate to cry here in the quad than it had been at the restaurant, but Apollo felt even closer to tears now. For years, he had known nothing about his dad, and he thought that he didn’t need to know. But now that he had this photograph, it suddenly wasn’t enough.

“Apollo.” Klavier was handing the photo back to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…” He couldn’t quite muster a “fine.”

But they were outside Apollo’s dorm now, so Klavier suggested they go upstairs. Clay was already in the room, sprawled on his bed reading a comic book. He looked up when they entered, and immediately caught on to Apollo’s expression.

“Hey, Pollo, what’s wrong?” he asked, putting his book aside. Apollo held out the photo.

Clay took it with a quizzical expression, shaking his head. “Since when do you play guitar—oh, wait.” He looked up, eyes wide. “Is this your dad?!”

Apollo didn’t really need to answer. He sank onto the edge of his bed, and Clay followed him, listening intently as Apollo repeated the story.

“Is there any way to find out more?” Clay asked when he finished.

“I’d have to talk to Dhurke,” Apollo said. “And…it’s been nice, seeing Nahyuta this year, but…”

“I know,” Clay told him, rubbing his back.

Klavier was lingering by Apollo’s nightstand, and Apollo glanced at him, raising one eyebrow.

“What you are doing all the way over there?” he asked, with as much of a smile as he could manage.

Klavier flushed slightly. “I didn’t want to…intrude?” he said uncertainly.

“After I stomped all over your family stuff?” Apollo asked. “Come here.”

Klavier settled on the bed beside him, and Apollo leaned his head on his shoulder. On Apollo’s other side, Clay gave an exaggerated sigh.

“I knew it. I’m being replaced.”

Klavier immediately looked across at him with a troubled expression. “That’s precisely what I was trying to avoid—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I always knew this day would come.” Clay wiped an imaginary tear. “My little Pollo, all—”

Apollo, without lifting his head from Klavier’s shoulder, reached out to punch Clay in the arm. “Shut up.”

Klavier chuckled. “Well, today might not be that day,” he said, with a glance at his watch.

Apollo sat up. “Oh, shoot, you have an interview, don’t you,” he recalled. “Are you going to be late?”

“Only a little. It’s just a formality, anyway. Herr Edgeworth probably just wants some details about my future plans.” He stood. “But I should get going, regardless. I’ll come by later?”

“Yeah, I want to know how it goes.” Apollo followed him to the door and tilted his head up to press a quick kiss to Klavier’s lips, but Klavier took his face in one hand and kissed him back more slowly, almost tenderly.

“You’re going to be okay?” he said quietly.

Apollo offered a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

With an answering smile, Klavier rubbed his thumb over Apollo’s cheek, then released him and departed.

“Ew, gross, get a room,” Clay complained dryly, as Apollo came to sit next to him on the bed again.

“This is my room,” Apollo shot back. He leaned back against the wall and absently rubbed his wrist, and Clay turned to look at him.

“What’s up?” He paused. “Besides the whole dad thing,” he amended. “You look like something’s bugging you.”

Apollo frowned. “Klavier’s hiding something from me.”

He had been too distracted by the photograph to notice at first, but his bracelet had been maintaining a firm hold on his wrist for the past several minutes, and the warm metal was only just now relaxing. Apollo was starting to get used to it now, but that didn’t make the entire situation any less perplexing.

“What?” Clay gasped.

“Nothing bad,” Apollo assured him. “It’s kinda like that time you and your dad tried to throw me a surprise party.” He paused, contemplating his bracelet. “I’m trying not to push.”

“Your birthday isn’t for a while…”

“Yeah.” Apollo sighed. “It’s not a big deal. I just can’t decide whether to be worried or excited.”

“Hm.”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?”

“Nope. Kinda rules out a party, huh?”

“Unless he just didn’t want to invite you,” Apollo pointed out, glancing at him.

“Hey!” Clay pouted. “I’m pretty sure that would be illegal.”

“Well, then that really rules it out,” Apollo laughed, but his expression sobered again quickly, and he looked down at his bracelet. “I just feel like it must be something serious, but I have no idea what it could be.”

Clay scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s gonna propose.”

Apollo’s head shot up. “WHAT.”

“What other serious-but-good surprises are there?” Clay shrugged.

“W—we’ve been dating two months!” Apollo stammered. He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

“Would you guys hyphenate your names, do y’think?”

“Two!! Months!!”

Clay snickered, no doubt amused by the violent shade of red that Apollo’s faced had turned. “You’ve totally thought about it though. Am I gonna find little hearts with ‘Mr. Apollo Justice-Gavin’ if I look in your notebooks?”

“You will not! Clay, that’s ridiculous, he’s not going to—”

“I bet his notebooks have hearts with ‘Mr. Klavier Justice-Gavin,’ he seems like that kind of person…” Clay mused heedlessly. “And I dunno, he’s a musician, aren’t they the romantic type?”

Apollo had given up on protesting, instead dropping his head into his hands.

“You know it’s like my job to tease you about this, right?” Clay asked.

“Who hired you?” Apollo grumbled into his palms.

“Well, okay, I’m a volunteer.” He sighed and moved to lean against the wall next to Apollo. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Maybe he just has a really nice month-iversary date planned.”

“Maybe...” One that involved multiple mysterious meetings and secretive phone calls?

Suddenly, Clay let out a short laugh.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Just imagine if I’d said that while Klavier was still here.”

Apollo snorted. “I honestly think he would have died on the spot.” He paused. “We’d have to have another trial.”

Clay’s eyes lit up. “Oooh, and I can be the murderer this time!”

“Remind me to never defend you in actual court.”

“Mean!”

They fell to bickering about the possible circumstances that would lead to Apollo agreeing to stand as Clay’s defense, while the photo of Justice performing lay almost-forgotten on the bedspread next to Clay. Apollo let himself be distracted. He wanted to know more about his father so badly he could practically feel it as physical ache in his chest, but there was only so much he could glean from a photograph, and he would need some time before he would consider reaching out to Dhurke. Maybe if he talked to Nahyuta again…

That night, his dreams were confusing. They bordered on nightmares—he was caught in a labyrinthine structure, and the air tasted of panic and smoke with every breath he drew. He woke the next morning with snatches of a melody caught in his ears, something familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the notes once he was fully awake. But when he started studying after breakfast, he found himself gravitating towards Jangly Jove as background music, and the familiar songs helped calm his lingering shakiness somewhat.

Most of Apollo’s finals were research papers, but he had a few exams to endure, too. Plenty of the time in between was spent studying at the library or in Klavier’s room, but without classes, he was left with a lot of free time. He and Klavier organized one last get-together for the club—at a game night at the Gavinners house, which culminated in one of the most competitive games of Clue Apollo had ever experienced—and Apollo grabbed coffee with Nahyuta after their Khura’inese exam, which turned into a bit more of a heart-to-heart than either of them were expecting—mostly about the past, since Nahyuta still seemed reluctant to explain what exactly awaited him upon his return to Khura’in.

Apollo had one exam inconveniently scheduled in the last slot of the week, but there was only so much studying he could really do for sociology. He spent the last few days of the semester packing up his belongings to bring to the apartment he and Clay would be renting, and killed a fair amount of time playing video games with Clay and taking long walks around the nearby neighborhoods with Klavier and Vongole.

When Apollo returned to his dorm after his exam, a spring in his step as the weight of a semester’s work officially lifted, he was greeted by the sound of a guitar drifting from the quad. Klavier had been courteous enough to refrain from using his favorite venue all week while everyone was studying, but with the last of finals behind them, the lead singer of the Gavinners had apparently deemed it appropriate to herald the start of summer break with one of his impromptu concerts.

He was sitting on a picnic table, and there were a couple dozen student scattered around the quad, chatting, listening to the music, or otherwise enjoying the summer sun. Apollo hung back, leaning against a concrete pillar, and just watched until Klavier finished his song, caught his eye, and nodded him over. Sitting next to his boyfriend and listening to him play seemed like a decent enough way to unwind after his exam, so Apollo happily joined him.

Klavier only greeted him with a smile, and his fingers found the chords of a song Apollo knew well. He settled back to listen, but then caught sight of Klavier looking at him expectantly as he strummed through the intro to Sunlight.

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Oh, no.”

Klavier pouted, and Apollo wondered if he was taking puppy-dog-eyes pointers from Vongole.

“I’m not singing!” Apollo mouthed. Klavier’s shoulders slumped, and he settled dejectedly over his guitar as he played the last few notes before the verse.

Apollo sighed.

Around the quad, a few people lifted their heads at the sound of an unexpected voice.

Klavier perked up immediately, a grin spreading across his lips. Apollo decided it was best to focus on him—he didn’t want to know who else was watching him sing. He could already feel his heart jumping in his throat, threatening to destabilize his voice and send him tripping over the words. Fortunately, projecting his voice came relatively naturally to him.

When Klavier came in with the harmony on the chorus, that helped a little—Apollo didn’t feel quite so exposed. They had the attention of the whole quad now; Apollo could feel the eyes on him, even if he was keeping his own gaze focused on Klavier. He felt like he would freeze up completely if he looked away.

Testifying in court has nothing on this.

But they made it through the whole song with barely a hiccup, save one point where Klavier had to pick up the slack when Apollo forgot a few words, and they were rewarded with an actual round of applause and even a couple whistles from the students in the quad.

“Danke,” Klavier called out, with one of his brilliant performer’s smiles. “Keep it up and maybe we’ll convince him to join the band, ja?”

There were a couple more whoops, and Apollo felt a flush rise to his cheeks—his heart was racing, but not entirely in a bad way.

“I thought I told you not to make me sing in front of people,” he grumbled to Klavier, once the clapping had faded and everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing.

“I didn’t make you do anything, schatzi,” Klavier pointed out. “Music is just in your blood, ja?”

Apollo frowned at that, thinking of the photograph tucked in his wallet. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I’m not gonna join your band, you know.”

Klavier laughed. “One can dream,” he sighed. But fortunately, he didn’t put Apollo on the spot again, and his playing devolved into quiet chord progressions before he eventually set his guitar aside.

“How was sociology?” he asked, leaning back on his palms and turning to Apollo.

Apollo shrugged. “Not bad. Finally over.”

“You’re moving tomorrow, ja?”

“Yep,” Apollo confirmed. He and Clay didn’t have much stuff left, and Dr. Terran would be bringing his car by to help them transport the last of their things the next morning. Apollo was a little reluctant about moving—he and Clay had found an affordable apartment, but the location favored Clay’s job at the space center a little more than it did Apollo’s job downtown. It also wasn’t particularly close to campus—or to Klavier, who was renewing his lease on the Gavinners house. Apollo sighed. “My commute is going to be a nightmare.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay at my place,” Klavier told him, with a small smirk. “I’m sure I can make some room for you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a recipe for being well-rested,” Apollo said, glancing at him. Klavier chuckled.

“Maybe not. You can sleep on the couch.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “With Vongole?”

“Nein, Vongole sleeps with me.”

“Oh does she? This is an interesting arrangement you’re proposing here, Klavier.”

Klavier shrugged and smiled, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Well, she was ‘schatzi’ first, after all…”

“Right, of course.” Apollo rolled his eyes.

With a light laugh, Klavier slipped an arm around Apollo’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “But you’re the only ‘liebling,’ so I suppose that grants you bed privileges.”

“Gee, thanks. Love you, too.”

Klavier just chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. Apollo flushed, glancing around the quad, but no one was paying them any attention.

“Are you free this afternoon?” Klavier asked suddenly, and Apollo frowned as his bracelet twitched slightly.

“I have a weird feeling that you already know that I am,” Apollo replied. “What’s up?”

Klavier hesitated. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you quite yet.”

Apollo’s bracelet tightened in earnest now, and he felt a rush of anticipation, albeit tempered with caution. “Is this about…?” He didn’t really know how to finish his question, but Klavier caught his meaning.

“It is,” Klavier confirmed, but provided no further details. He started to stand, grabbing his guitar and slinging it over his shoulder. “We can go get Vongole, then head over?”

“Over where?” Apollo asked, following him.

“The park,” Klavier told him simply. Apollo’s bracelet maintained a steady grip on his wrist as Klavier fiddled with his guitar strap.

“And you really can’t tell me anything?” Apollo pestered as they left the quad. Klavier chewed on his lip.

“I…would rather not.”

“…okay.”

Klavier didn’t respond, but he reached out and took Apollo’s hand as they walked.

Vongole nearly barreled them down at the door, as if she could sense that they were headed for her favorite destination. She tugged them along the sidewalk eagerly, but Apollo wasn’t sure he shared her enthusiasm. He couldn’t shake a faint sense of unease—and Klavier wasn’t helping. He was quiet for much of their walk, and there was a small wrinkle between his brows that generally indicated he was worried about something. Apollo was so caught up wondering what could possibly have him so anxious that he didn’t even notice the figure approaching them on the path until she called out to them.

“Polly!”

“Trucy?” Apollo’s brows drew together as the young magician skipped towards them. “What are you doing here?”

To his surprise, Trucy pulled him into a brief hug, which Apollo returned with one arm. Her smile seemed even brighter than usual, and she linked arms with Apollo as they walked.

“You’ll see,” she teased.

“I’ll see…?”

“Don’t worry, it’s a good surprise.”

“Surprise?” Apollo frowned. “I didn’t realize I was being surprised today.”

“Well, that is the nature of a surprise, nein?” Klavier pointed out. He was smiling, but the crease in his brow hadn’t smoothed away. Apollo peered at him closely, then turned to his right to look at Trucy.

“You’re in on this?”

She tilted her head. “Well, kinda. But it was mostly Klavier and Dad.”

“Mr. Wright…?” This was getting more perplexing by the second.

They rounded a bend in the sidewalk and came up on a grassy area scattered with picnic benches. Apollo recognized Phoenix and Edgeworth at one table, but they were accompanied by someone he couldn’t quite make out—she appeared to be a woman, though.

“Dad!” Trucy called, and Phoenix turned and waved. Vongole let out a sudden bark, which was answered by a much higher-pitched yip as a tiny Pomeranian leapt up on to the picnic table—although he hopped right back down when Edgeworth fixed him with a severe glare and a quietly displeased “Pess…”—and instead dashed across the grass to investigate Vongole. 

The dogs distracted him, so it was another moment before Apollo looked up again and realized who the third person at the table was.

It was a strange feeling—he recognized her twofold.

“Wait,” he said, stopping when they were still half a dozen paces away. Trucy looked up at him. “That’s…”

He didn’t know what name to say first. Lamiroir. Thalassa Gramarye. This was the woman he had watched perform with Klavier, and the woman he had seen on a postage stamp. They were one and the same.

And that means…

He turned to Trucy, eyes widening. “Lamiroir is…your mother?”

Trucy bounced on her heels, beaming, but there was something in her eyes that told Apollo this wasn’t The Surprise. She tugged on his arm, pulling him forward.

 At the picnic table, Thalassa stood. Her eyes were shining—and fixed on Apollo. He was reminded of the first time they had met, after Trucy’s show.

“Dad told me yesterday,” Trucy said to Apollo. “I always thought she died, but she just had to go away for a while.”

“That’s…great,” Apollo said faintly. It was great, but as Thalassa slowly approached them, his heart did a sort of inexplicable flip, and there was a rushing in his ears that seemed to drown out anything else Trucy might have said. He noticed distantly that Klavier had released his hand.

Thalassa was only an arm’s length away now. She held out her right hand, and her long sleeve slipped up to reveal the bangle around her wrist. As Apollo lifted his own hand, mirroring her, he realized that Klavier had been right.

Just like yours.

Thalassa caught hold of his hand, her eyes on the bracelet.

“I never thought I would see it again.”

“Again?” Apollo echoed. He looked at her, then shook his head. “No. No, that’s…”

“I was so shocked when I saw you,” Thalassa went on. She met Apollo’s eyes, entreating. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Forgive…?”

In some part of his brain, he was drawing conclusions that he knew were the correct ones. But they were locked behind a wall, one he had been carefully constructing since his childhood.

“You’ve grown so much.” Thalassa’s grip on his fingers tightened. Apollo felt frozen.

“What—”

“Apollo, I…” She took a deep breath, like she was steeling herself, and met his eyes. “I am your mother.”

That wall cracked, but not quite enough to break. But the way she said his name…Apollo’s heart lurched. He shook his head, stepping back and letting his hand fall from her grasp.

“No, that’s…this is some kind of…” He looked between Klavier and Trucy and Edgeworth and Phoenix. “This is…you can’t…”

“Am I lying?” Her eyes fell to his wrist, where his bracelet rested loose against his skin.

“N…but…how? Wh…where have you been?”

He couldn’t keep the venom from his tone, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Thalassa’s eyes glistened, but Apollo couldn’t let himself be moved by it.

“Apollo, dearest. I looked for you. But in Khura’in, they didn’t know how to find me, there was so much chaos after the fire…I lost you, and I couldn’t stay, they wouldn’t let me stay—”

Apollo was shaking his head. “You ran away from me.” He hated how his voice cracked.

“Apollo…” Klavier wrapped an arm around his shoulder, but Apollo shrugged it off.

This was too much. It was true, Apollo knew it was true, but it was a truth he had needed two decades ago. And everyone was looking at him. What did they want? For him to break down in tears and run to embrace her? This…this…stranger?

She left me. She was here now, but that didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t been.

Without a word, he shook his arm out of Trucy’s grasp, turned, and stalked across the grass.

He ignored the first tree he passed—it was still too close by—and dropped down next to the second, leaning against the trunk and pulling his knees to his chest.

My mother?

He didn’t want to hear her excuses. No, he wouldn’t. He was fine without her, he had built his entire life without her, he wasn’t going to let her show up now and claim some kind of relationship with him.

The problem was, his “I’m fines” were being drowned out by “whys”.

Mom…why??

~~~

“Apollo.”

It was a few minutes before Klavier joined him. Apollo didn’t move, but he also didn’t resist when Klavier sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Apollo made a noise that wasn’t quite a yes or a no. Klavier sighed.

“I didn’t know how best to tell you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Apollo grumbled something, and Klavier leaned closer.

“Didn’t quite catch that, liebling.”

“Don’t apologize,” Apollo repeated more clearly. “It’s just…”

“A lot. I know.” Klavier leaned into him. “But once you understand the circumstances…”

“I don’t care about the circumstances,” Apollo growled, but it was an automatic response. His mind was swirling with questions. He wasn’t quite ready to admit he wanted to ask them yet, so he peered sideways at Klavier, instead. “How did you…” he began, his voice barely audible.

Klavier let out a breath. “The bracelet…it was bothering me. It didn’t seem like you were going to try to reach out to her, so I got in touch with her manager last month. Thalassa agreed to meet me, and we talked. She told me about Trucy, too, and I got in touch with Herr Wright, who had almost the whole puzzle, minus Thalassa’s whereabouts.”

“Wait, so Mr. Wright…?”

“He knew about you and Trucy since before…” Klavier paused. “Well, Spark Brushel told him.”

“Oh.” Apollo’s brain knocked a few more pieces together. “Me and…Trucy…”

“She’s your half-sister, yes,” Klavier said.

Apollo let out a shaky sort of sob. “That’s—”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No! No, it’s…I have a sister. Trucy’s my sister. That…”

“Makes a lot of sense, I thought,” Klavier said.

Apollo laughed weakly. “Yeah, actually. This is…crazy.”

“Mm.” Klavier was quiet for a moment. “Was Trucy right?”

“Huh?”

“She said this would be a good surprise.”

Finally, Apollo lifted his head. Klavier’s expression was hesitant.

Apollo sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s a good surprise.”

They were quiet for a moment as Apollo worked through his thoughts.

“Wait,” he said suddenly. “How’s that going to work, if Mr. Wright adopted Trucy…”

“I think they worked something out,” Klavier said. “Thalassa is still a musician, after all, and her tours bring her around the world. It would be a difficult way for Trucy to grow up. And I don’t believe Thalassa wishes to return to the Gramarye lifestyle.”

“So she’ll just be…Lamiroir?”

“Or…Thalassa Justice, perhaps.”

“Justice…” Apollo mused. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, removing the photograph of Justice performing.

Unexpectedly, Klavier laughed, looking over his shoulder at the photograph. “Oh, just wait. You won’t believe that part.”

“Huh?”

“I should allow her to tell you.”

“Klavierrr,” Apollo complained, looking back and forth between him and the photograph.

“That one is a good surprise, I promise.” He leaned over and kissed Apollo’s forehead. “Ready to go back, now that I’ve piqued your interest?”

Apollo took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. I’m fine.”

When they walked back to the table, Trucy was busy conjuring scarves into various shapes while Vongole and Pess watched, seemingly enthralled. Edgeworth, Phoenix, and Thalassa were talking, but as Apollo and Klavier got closer, all eyes went to Apollo.

“Um.” He looked at Thalassa, whose expression was carefully composed, although her eyes betrayed her. “Can you…explain?”

She gave a reserved nod and glanced to the spot on the bench beside her. Apollo sat, but not too close.

And she explained. She talked about how she left Troupe Gramarye when she met his father, and how they traveled the world together. She talked about how their travels landed them in Khura’in, where tragedy struck—Apollo had never realized how closely involved he had been with the events that had started the country’s era of instability.

She talked about losing Apollo, and being forced to return home, alone. She married Zak, had Trucy, but was only granted a few short years with her daughter before her luck soured again. Zak and Valant’s Quick Draw Shoot-Em had left her blind and without her memories—she still didn’t know how exactly she came to live in Borginia, and she had missed her chance to demand answers from her father—and she started her new life entirely unaware of her past or her two children, with nothing but her bracelet left to remind her that there had even been a past.

But as her music career grew, it became more difficult to conceal her blindness. Finally, she decided to undergo a surgery to restore her sight, and when she did so, the memories came flooding back.

She was able to locate Trucy right away—the Gramaryes stood out, especially during Zak’s trial, and it wasn’t difficult to arrange a tour to the States to give Thalassa an excuse to see her daughter.

Apollo, despite his name, wasn’t as easy to find. Which was why it was such a shock when he found her, instead.

“With Trucy, I had a picture,” she explained. “I knew how she had grown, but you…” She reached out, hesitantly, to brush an escaped strand of hair from his forehead. “I was not prepared for how much you would look like him.”

Apollo’s breath caught, and he reached into his pocket again to pull out his wallet, extracting the photo with unsteady fingers. “I…Dhurke…” he began, unfolding it and handing it over.

Thalassa’s eyes widened. “Jove,” she gasped, her eyes suddenly bright with tears. She took the photo in her hands carefully, as though she was afraid it might disintegrate before her eyes.

But Apollo frowned. “Wait. His name was…Jove?”

Thalassa nodded, her gaze fixed on the photograph. “Your father, he was…”

Thalassa was talking about her first husband, but Apollo could barely hear her. Jove. Jove, a musician. Jove, a musician, who died twenty years ago and never made any new music.

There’s no way.

But then he happened to glance at Klavier, who was doing a very poor job of hiding a smile, and certainty settled in his heart.

“W-wait,” Apollo said, interrupting Thalassa. “Jove. Not Jangly—”

Thalassa looked up from the photograph. “You know his stage name?”

Apollo just stared at her.

“Jangly Jove. My dad is Jangly Jove.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation, just whirled around to face Klavier. “How long have you known?”

Klavier bit his lip, sheepish. “Since before the picture,” he confessed. “…are you upset?”

“N…no, I just…I…”

“Sunlight is about you,” Klavier said quietly. He glanced at Thalassa. “I’m right, ja?”

“Our little ray of sunlight.” Thalassa gave a sad smile. “He loved you so, so much.”

Now Apollo felt the tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He had barely any warning before they were falling, blurring his vision despite his best efforts to wipe them away. In front of him, Thalassa lifted her arms, then hesitated, but after a moment she reached out to gently pull Apollo into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry.”

After some time, Apollo’s tears slowed, and he began to feel a little awkward about sobbing his eyes out in the middle of the park while his future boss stood nearby—although to be fair to them, Phoenix and Edgeworth were keeping a polite distance from the whole scene. Trucy, however, appeared by Apollo’s shoulder as he was lifting his head and rubbing his eyes.

“I’m so happy!” she cried, pulling him and Thalassa into a hug. “I got a mom and a big brother all in one week!”

Apollo laughed shakily and returned the hug as best as he could manage, still recovering from his tears. He wasn’t sure if whatever he was in this moment could be called ‘happy’; the word was a little too simple for the myriad emotions tangled in his heart, and it was going to take him a while to work through years of heartbreak to arrive at ‘happy’. But Trucy’s joy was irresistibly contagious, so he smiled back, and Thalassa did, too.

Then Apollo caught his mother’s eye, and a shadow crossed her brow. She opened her mouth to speak, but she seemed unsure of what to say.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Apollo spoke up instead, once Trucy had released them. “A lot to…figure out, I guess. But maybe today we just…”

“It is a lovely day for a picnic,” Thalassa suggested, with a small, hopeful smile.

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s kind of what I was thinking, too.”

At the end of the table, Phoenix was already digging into a cooler that he had brought along, passing out sandwiches and sodas as everyone took a seat. Klavier settled close next to Apollo, and the way their shoulders and knees bumped together felt familiar and comforting, something to ground him after the emotional turmoil of the past half-hour.

After they ate, Trucy dragged her mother, Phoenix, and Edgeworth into a netless game of badminton with some racquets that the Wrights had brought along—a game which became very intense very quickly, especially with two dogs chasing after any errant shuttlecocks—while Klavier and Apollo hung back at the picnic table. Klavier had taken out his guitar, but he wasn’t really playing anything, just plucking out chords at random.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“You and Jangly Jove. I told you, you do him justice.” Klavier was looking at him sideways, a smile on his lips.

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “I already sung for you once today.”

Klavier gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fair enough. I’m sure she would love to hear you sing, though.” He nodded towards Thalassa.

“I…” Apollo took a breath. “Maybe sometime.”

Klavier hummed and continued to aimlessly strum his guitar. As Apollo listened, he thought he caught the melody of The Guitar’s Serenade scattered in the notes, and he remembered all the times he had caught Klavier humming the same tune over the past few weeks.

“You’ve been dying to tell me,” he realized, glancing at his boyfriend. Klavier looked guilty.

“I…” His fingers slowed on the strings for a moment. “I wanted to do something for you,” he said finally. “After Kristoph, I…I don’t think you realize how much you helped me through that. How much you are helping me. ‘Repay’ isn’t exactly the right word, but…I wanted to do what I could.”

“Doesn’t really seem like a fair trade,” Apollo observed quietly. He looked down at his hands. You lost your family. I found mine.

“I don’t think of it like that,” Klavier replied, shaking his head. “It’s more…the truths we needed, ja? Even if we didn’t know we needed them.”

Apollo considered those words for a moment, looking across the grass at Trucy and Thalassa. His sister and his mother. He had been telling himself all his life that he didn’t need them, that he was a whole, complete person even if he had no idea where he had come from. And he hadn’t been wrong about that, exactly, but maybe Klavier was right, too. No matter how well he could stand on his own, that yearning would have always been there—he had made sure of that himself, by burying it deep instead of confronting it head-on. Apollo hadn’t wanted to let go, as much as he told himself he already had.

He suddenly found himself thinking of Dhurke, too. With Thalassa around, he didn’t exactly need to call his foster father to learn more about Jove, but…maybe he would, anyway. Maybe it was time to face the rest of his past, too.

A bark from Vongole pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up in time to see the retriever snatch a badminton racquet from Phoenix and abscond with it to Trucy’s side of the improvised court.

“Oh dear,” Klavier sighed. “She’s really forgotten all her manners, hasn’t she.”

Apollo laughed, watching as the badminton game devolved into something like a cross between keep-away and fetch. Edgeworth hung back, adjusting his glasses to hide an amused smile, and Thalassa laughed aloud as Trucy succeeded in reclaiming the racquet, only to be bowled over by Vongole. She sprawled out on the grass, giggling as Vongole licked her face and Pess sniffed at her with confused concern.

“Huh,” Apollo said to himself, suddenly struck by the entire scene. Klavier turned to him.

“What is it?”

“I dunno. Just…is this what my family get-togethers are gonna be from now on?” He shook his head bemusedly as he made a tally. “Two renowned lawyers, a Gramarye magician, a famous Borginian singer …”

He glanced at Klavier, who met his eyes with an unexpected intensity, and Apollo trailed off.

“…what?” he asked slowly.

“I…” Klavier took a breath and glanced away, then exhaled in a determined sort of way and lifted his head to make eye contact again. “I…certainly hope so.”

Apollo blinked, then realized he needed to adjust his list.

Two renowned lawyers, a Gramarye magician, a famous Borginian singer…

…and a future rock-star prosecutor.

It was clear that Klavier could tell when Apollo understood him, because a pink flush immediately spread across his cheekbones, and he dropped his gaze back to his guitar, hiding his face behind a lock of his bangs.  

“Klavier…” Apollo said faintly.

Klavier refused to look up.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered.

“Klavier,” Apollo repeated insistently, leaning closer. When Klavier continued avoid him, Apollo maneuvered to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I hope so, too,” he murmured in his ear, counting on Klavier’s embarrassment to keep him from noticing how red Apollo’s own face had become. His heart was pounding from the admission—it seemed somehow more weighty than the “I love you”s they had exchanged so easily two months ago. Apollo wondered if it was okay to feel so sure about someone so quickly, so naturally.

But his vague concerns evaporated when Klavier turned to him, his lips parted slightly and his eyes bright with emotion as they caught the afternoon sun, and he looked so beautiful in that instant that Apollo had to sternly remind himself that his mom, his sister, his future boss, and the district chief prosecutor were all assembled nearby, because he really, really wanted to kiss his boyfriend.

For now, Apollo settled for smiling at him, instead. “Dork,” he laughed, brushing a lock of Klavier’s hair out of his face. “You can’t say smooth stuff like that and then go getting embarrassed about it.”

Klavier pouted, but his blush didn’t fade, and he looked down at his guitar in a futile attempt to conceal it. His rambling fingers gained more purpose as he strummed out the chords to a song that Apollo could have recognized two semesters ago, one he’d caught himself humming in the shower (much to his chagrin) simply because he used to hear it almost daily outside his window as eager Gavinners fans requested their favorites from the quad’s resident musician.

Personally, Apollo wasn’t sure that he felt any differently about this particular song now than he had months ago…but he liked the musician well enough, even if said musician was currently trying to salvage his cool by playing one of his law-themed rock songs. Dork.

“Anyway,” Klavier said as he played the final chords of the intro. He grinned and tossed his hair, catching Apollo’s eye in the process, and winked. Apollo rolled his eyes in response, but he couldn't keep a smile from spreading across his lips. 

 “…here’s Guilty Love.”