Words Come Fluently

Klavier wasn't going to watch the video. He wasn't.

Guilty Love was going to go platinum. The tour had sold out fourteen stadiums across the country. He'd done the major press stuff to kick it all off -- every talk show, SNL, GMA, and dozens of radio interviews. Did anyone even listen to the radio anymore? He'd gained millions more followers on instagram, some of his interviews were trending on youtube. His media blitz was working and it was amazing.

So he wasn't going to watch Mikeko's video.

They'd done so much New York press, then had flown back to LA for a few talk shows, then back to New York for the first stop of the tour. He was safely ensconced in his hotel room, the first few free hours he'd had in days, and tomorrow would be more press and then the first show. It was all awesome.

Daryan and the rest of the band were out partying. Of course they were -- Daryan was always partying, and the rest of the band -- Zephyr, Vance, and Kevin -- usually went with him. They'd all done plenty of press too, but not nearly as much as Klavier had. The band wasn't called The Crescends, after all, a fact Daryan periodically reminded him of in a very snide voice. But he hadn't been snide tonight, everyone was in too good of a mood, delighted by the album launch.

Klavier was, too, but he was dead exhausted after days of the endless media blitz. Instead of a party, all he really wanted was a bath in his luxury suite and a fancy dinner delivered right to him, and then to get eight whole hours of sleep.

So he was alone in his hotel room. He'd taken his bath. He'd had his dinner and most of a bottle of wine and a very rich chocolate cake dessert -- he'd need to work that off in the gym tomorrow. Now he was full and warm and sleepy and a little tipsy.

He wasn't going to watch the video.

He clicked play.

The thing was, Mikeko wasn't even a real music critic. He was a Youtuber. Of course, he was a youtuber with nearly a million subscribers whose views on each video were even higher. But still, it wasn't like he wrote for Rolling Stone (which had, of course, loved Guilty Love). No, he was just some guy who made videos and didn't even show his face. He was always represented by a cartoon cat. It had a few poses, each with a few frames of animation. It was cute. But it wasn't serious.

And yet Klavier always watched his reviews and they always felt like a knife in his ribs.

On his laptop, the cartoon cat sighed heavily.

"Okay. Okay. You all asked -- I mean all of you. I've never had an album review requested this much. And I hate reviewing Gavinners stuff. But there's no way around it. The Gavinners are somehow still the biggest band in the world so here I am again, wondering what the hell I'm missing."

That did not sound good. The cartoon cat lay down and began licking its paws.

"I don't like reviewing Gavinners stuff because I end up feeling so mean and gross in retrospect. They bring out my nasty side. And then you all reward my nasty side because one thing about this website is that it really rewards rants. And nothing makes me want to rant like the Gavinners. So... here we go again."

Klavier braced himself.

"First let me dispense with the stupid disclaimer stuff. When I was way younger I made a lot of videos about hating the Gavinners that were really stupid and shallow. I was a teenage boy and they were popular with teenage girls which meant all boys were required to think they were stupid and gay and prissy and whatever, and that's all toxic bullshit. I don't think that anymore. I mean, I am gay. I had to do a lot of thinking about my internalized bullshit and all, and I'm sorry I made such a name for myself off those videos because they were mean-spirited and shitty and wrong. So Gavinners stans, I'm sorry for that. You all were right. I was a total dick."

Klavier's heartbeat sped up. There was no way Mikeko had actually liked the album. He hated the Gavinners. He was infamous for hating the Gavinners. But that was already the nicest thing he'd ever said about the band.

"So that's the first thing. This is not going to be a video of me trashing Guilty Love because that's what everyone comes to my channel for. Sorry, but there are dozens of other channels you can watch if that's what you want. I'm going to review it, like an actual music critic, and evaluate it on its own merits. As fairly and objectively as I can. And so, without further ado…"

Klavier turned the volume on his laptop up, while the cartoon cat gestured with one paw.

"I hated it."

He groaned.

Mikeko launched into the review, track by track, dissecting every chord progression, every lyric, every single moment of the album. Klavier knew he should just turn it off -- he never should have turned it on. And it wasn't like it mattered. The album was likely to hit platinum status sometime tomorrow, and there were indeed plenty of other critics who'd panned it. This one shouldn't matter.

It was just that he liked so much of Mikeko's content.

He'd stumbled on it by accident a year ago. A video called bands I'm not cool enough to listen to. It had practically been a playlist of Klavier's favorite current music. He'd checked out the rest of the channel's content and had found a playlist of videos about influential albums, tracing their cultural impact through the decades. There were videos about the music that meant the most to Mikeko. And then there were the reviews.

Like the video intro had said, Mikeko's popularity had been launched off the back of a particularly nasty review of the Gavinners' third album. It had been harsh and cruel and biting and, unfortunately, hilarious. It had hurt.

Klavier didn't usually care about bad reviews. He made music he loved and it made many, many people happy, so why listen to the haters? But he'd binged hours of Mikeko's content and had immediately come to respect the man's -- the cat's -- opinion. It had been crushing.

Every subsequent album, same thing. Mikeko's taste was good, his reviews were smart, he was interesting and talented and Klavier loved everything he posted… but Mikeko always hated his work. Always. It was a running joke in the comments of his videos, on his twitter, everywhere else.

He finished his bottle of wine as he listened to the cartoon cat with such good taste explain why he was a hack (what's with the law and order theme, it's tacky and cringey and there's no real emotion in it), why his vocals sucked (such good potential, a strong instrument in his voice, but he needs to stop shouting and learn to put across a song, what if he tried singing about something he actually cared about), and why his production was bad (too flashy, all sizzle and no substance).

The video ended with the cat sighing, "I know it's gonna go platinum and I know I have to lock down all my other accounts for at least a week because I'm going to get death threats. But I promised I'd always be honest and this is how I honestly feel. I think there's so much raw potential in the Gavinners, I always get my hopes up that maybe the next album is the one where they'll actually try to make something good, and I'm always disappointed. Well, here's to disappointment. Now I've gotta go before someone laces my coffee with atroquinine. Anyway, here's the real Mikeko."

His videos always ended with a snippet of a very real cat, a fat calico who seemed to be asleep in almost every shot. In this one it opened one lazy eye, let out a grumpy meow, and licked its paw.

The video ended.

Maybe Klavier was drunk, maybe he was just feeling masochistic and disappointed. He let himself indulge, clicked over to twitter, ignored his endless notifications, and looked at @MikekoMusic to see what additional stinging commentary was over there.

It was not, as the cat had joked about, locked down. Thankfully, there weren't any further thoughts on the music. But the tweet that linked to the video had thousands of replies. Klavier clicked it, bracing himself, and --

It was endless. Most of it was mindless abuse, stupid childish insults, but there were some threats in there, some awful, bloody graphics. A handful of people tweeted their support of the video, but most of it was pure vitriol.

His stomach churned. Maybe he shouldn't have had so much to drink.

These people were Klavier's own fans. They were coming to his defense. But this was all so nasty, so awful. Klavier had been devastated by the video, but it had never occurred to him just how much abuse a video like that would bring about. He respected Mikeko's opinion and the man did not deserve all of this.

He clicked the button to send a DM, but couldn't -- Mikeko didn't allow DMs from people who weren't mutual followers. Probably a good idea, considering all the hate he was getting. He clicked the follow button but of course Mikeko didn't follow him so it didn't matter.

No, he'd have to do this another way. He opened the box and tweeted:

He had to sign all of his own tweets. His management used the account to send updates and messages about all of their concerts and appearances and nearly everything lately had been part of the media blitz. But his fans were all assured, when that --kg signature was attached, it was directly from him.

He typed another tweet.

And then, even though he suspected it would be a little weird but he was too tipsy to think of why, he continued.

Apollo groaned and groped for his phone. His alarm had just gone off and he'd hit snooze, only to be inundated with texts.

Clay used caps more than any human ought to, but Apollo was used to that. And if Clay was telling him to check twitter, there had to be a reason, because Clay was the one who looked through his replies and comments for him and reported anything that looked actually serious. Not that he usually got the kind of shit he was getting right now. But Gavinners fans were completely crazy, in his experience. Crazy and very defensive of their band.

So it was a little surprising that Clay would urge him back on to twitter instead of remind him to avoid it. But he trusted Clay, so he opened twitter and --

He'd expected the rush of notifications, too many to ever keep up with. It took a second for him to figure out what was happening. Some were vitriolic but a lot were just weird, comments to him and Klavier freaking Gavin both, which meant someone had snitchtagged. Which he'd figured, it always happened, but it still seemed rude.

But no, there was something weird to this. People saying he was so gracious and sweet?

No. Not him. Gavin. What?

He was trending. Not locally, but nationally. Mikeko Music, related to Klavier Gavin and Gavinners and Guilty Love.

What?

Trepidation building, he clicked the topic. Read the headline. Then thought maybe he'd blacked out or something and read it again. But no, there it was.

He texted Clay.

Clay sent him back a link to Klavier Gavin's official account, and there it was.

And oh yeah, the little twitter flag that specified "follows you."

Screw it. This called for more than texts. He hit call next to Clay's name and Clay answered with hysterical laughter. Apollo put the call on speaker and went back to twitter.

"Dude! Klavier Gavin is a huge fan of yours! Holy shit, you're big time!"

"It can't be true," Apollo said. "He can't -- how would he even know who I am? I'm just some Youtuber! I don't even show my face in videos! He thinks I'm a cat!"

"I don't think he really thinks that."

"So?! He -- Clay." Apollo stared at his follower count on twitter, which had gone up by several thousand, and then youtube, which had gone up by thousands more. "Clay, what do I do? I just gained like a gajillion subscribers because a guy I hate just told everyone to be nice to me."

"I don't know, dude. I think you have to say something."

"Like what?"

"Well, what do you think?" Clay returned.

"I don't know what to think! I don't know. He's always seemed like such a plastic fake to me, how do I even know if he really meant this?"

"Does it matter if he meant it? He told his fans to back off you and the number of shitty comments dropped immediately. And yeah now you're mostly getting people telling you how great he is, but still."

Apollo stared at twitter, at the replies that were still coming in. He couldn't just stare for long, though. He had a job interview in a little while and he had to get dressed and ready. He had to prepare, to really focus, so maybe that was for the best. He'd just put something quick out and then turn his freak-out toward the job interview instead.

Okay. Okay. He could do something normal, here. He opened the box and began to type.

Approximately half a second after he posted it, replies started pouring in, mostly people laughing. Good. That was good.

"Aww, sweet," Clay said in his ear. "You could amp up the flirting, though."

"What? I'm not flirting."

"Right, you're not flirting, but you could be."

"Why would I -- why -- you're so weird."

"I'm not weird, I'm trying to be a wingman, here," Clay said. "Okay, his album made your ears bleed, but Klavier Gavin is hot as hell and openly queer and filthy rich. You could do worse, I'm just sayin'."

"Yeah, he's all of those things, but he's like -- not even real. He probably won't even see this tweet."

"Why wouldn't he? He follows you now."

"He follows thousands of--"

"He watches your videos," Clay interrupted. "He's been a fan for years. You never thought that would happen, but it did. So why wouldn't he see you tweet-flirt with him?"

"Well for one thing because I'm not flirting with him!"

Clay laughed in his ear. "Okay, okay. Look, I have to get to training and you have to get ready for your interview, so let's get going. I'll check your accounts later and let you know if you have any more weird rockstar emergencies. Grab a beer tonight?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Apollo said. "Enjoy your centrifuge machine, try not to puke."

He hung up to Clay's laughter and glanced at his notifications. Hundreds already. So weird. He shut his laptop and got up to shower.

Apollo had prepared and prepared and prepared for this interview. He'd done a half-dozen just like it, but this was LA and entertainment lawyers were a dime a dozen but they all also had dozens of people begging to work for them. It was big money. Not what he'd initially planned when he'd gone to law school, but it really seemed like the best field for him.

He could blame Youtube for that. He was, by every measure, an extremely successful creator. It had been slow to start but now his Patreon and ad money and the occasional sponsorship was enough for him to live on, and thanks to his law degree he could handle his own contracts, deal with his own takedown notices, and was generally surprisingly prepared for the legal and business side of things. Plus he figured he could work primarily with musicians -- his music stuff was really just a nerdy hobby, but when he got nerdy about something he went all in. He absolutely knew what was happening in music, and even when, like the Gavinners, he thought the zeitgeist was stupid, he still knew plenty about it.

So yeah, entertainment law. He figured he'd aim for a job at one of the big talent agencies. But he didn't want to put the Youtube stuff on his resume. Sure, it was good, but it was… weird. He'd never been one to put himself out there, he was much more comfortable keeping that all anonymous, especially when it started actually garnering attention.

Like it was right now.

He shoved that thought aside. But without it, his resume was a little sparse -- yeah, great grades, great letters of recommendation, but in an industry that relied on who you know, he didn't know anyone. Thankfully his finances were okay. He made a surprising amount from his videos, all told, but most of it was eaten up by student debt and the cost of living in LA. He'd be way more comfortable if he had a day job.

So here he was. He'd been passed over by the big companies, so he'd looked smaller, and found an opening for an entry-level jack-of-all-trades assistant gig, legal background required, reporting to the CEO of a company called KG Entertainment. They were "boutique" which apparently meant "tiny." But legit -- it was only a few people, and they only had a few clients, but they were so elite that they were the kind of company that didn't actually name their clients. Don't call them, they'll call you.

So yeah, he was curious about it. Personal assistant was not his ultimate goal, but it was a stepping-stone type job, and he was willing to pay his dues. He could always quit and fall back on his Youtube stuff if it really sucked. At this point, he figured, anything that would pad his resume was good.

KG Entertainment was located on the sixteenth floor of a high rise. He craned his neck looking up and the sun glistened off a jillion windows. He had a good feeling about this. Inside, a security guard gave him a temporary pass and directed him to an elevator bank, and up on the floor the office turned out to be a small suite. Someone let him in and he waited on an uncomfortable couch, drank a bottle of water, and looked around.

The walls were painted a soothing blue with a lot of fascinating framed art prints hung up. The windows were large and the sun poured in. There were magazines stacked on a table by the couch, and a few plants in large pots. There weren't any cubicles, just a few desks where people were buried in their computers and only periodically glanced up. A few doors to conference rooms or single offices. It was all very tasteful, quiet, professional.

One of the doors opened and a man swept out. He was wearing a powder blue suit and well shined shoes, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a blond ponytail that was… familiar. Shockingly familiar.

In fact, everything about him was.

Apollo swallowed. That wasn't Klavier Gavin. It couldn't be. But damn, it looked like him, and the company's name -- the company's name was KG Entertainment. Klavier Gavin?

But no. He had to just be losing his mind after that morning's weird twitter thing.

"Ah, Mr. Justice, I presume? It's nice to meet you. I'm Kristoph Gavin."

Kristoph Gavin. Okay. They had to be related. Apollo stood and shook his hand and said, "Hi, uh, Mr. Gavin. It's nice to meet you, too."

Mr. Gavin gave him a bland smile. "Let's chat in my office."

Apollo followed him past a few desks, including one that sat empty and clearly unused, right outside the office door. Inside the office, Mr. Gavin gestured him to a chair and took a seat behind the desk. Apollo glanced around. Floor-to-ceiling windows, fancy furniture, another beautiful painting, and yeah, a photo that was definitely Mr. Gavin standing next to Klavier Gavin, back when his hair had been short. It looked like they were on vacation somewhere tropical, all easy smiles and tanned skin, and they looked so much alike. Related, for sure. In fact, they had to be brothers. Apollo would bet on it.

"Thank you for having me in, Mr. Gavin," Apollo said, trying to take some initiative. "I'm looking for a role exactly like this. My specialty is in contracts and I'm really excited for--"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Gavin interrupted, sounding amused. "I read your CV, of course. I'm already aware of your background. So tell me something I don't know, Mr. Justice. Let me pose you a question. With so many big agencies out there, why would a client choose to sign with KG?"

"Oh, um." Apollo had prepared for this kind of thing, actually. He always did his research. "I guess, I think about it like this. There are big, power agencies out there, and they can get an artist's foot in the door, sure, but if you aren't a top earner you get lost in the shuffle. Only a very few clients get all the time and attention and, well, budget. But a boutique agency, with a highly curated clientele, you can really make sure all of your talent gets everything they need."

"An excellent summary, you've done your homework," Mr. Gavin said, and Apollo flushed with pride. He didn't have much to judge from, but just based on Mr. Gavin's demeanor, he was betting the guy probably didn't hand out compliments very often. "But on a more personal level, why would you want to work here and not at one of those agencies?"

Apollo had prepared for this. The bottom line wouldn't do -- that he couldn't get past the second round of interviews at those agencies. But there was nuance to it, too.

"Well, at a group like this, it's so small that everyone does a little of everything, right?" He'd read that somewhere, that small companies let people try their hand at everything and do whatever they happened to be good at. "I'd really get to see all parts of the company, how it all works. That would be amazing, a real chance to learn the ropes."

"It's long hours," Mr. Gavin said. "And much of the assistant work is quite dull. You'd be managing my schedule, filing papers, replying to emails. Fetching lunch. Yes, there's quite a lot of opportunity to learn and advance, but it is not glamorous."

"If I wanted glamor, I'd be aiming for in front of the cameras, not behind them," Apollo said, which was honest. He had no interest in being famous.

"Good." Then he gave a slight chuckle. "Well, there's some vicarious glamor, I suppose." He gestured at the photo. "I suspect you recognize my younger brother, Klavier. He's on a first-name basis with the whole world."

"I, uh, yeah," Apollo said. "The resemblance is uncanny."

"So we've been told. Are you a fan?"

"Of the Gavinners?" He managed not to wince. "I… I've heard their stuff. I mean, everyone has, you'd have to be living under a rock not to. It's… it's not exactly my genre, but Guilty Love is probably gonna continue the platinum streak, right? So it must just be my taste that's off."

There. He'd managed it, to say he didn't really like them without being too insulting. He hoped.

Mr. Gavin laughed. "Oh, don't worry. We don't play that three-chord trash in the office. But there's no arguing with his success. The fact of the matter is, while we do have other clients, KG Entertainment exists primarily to handle Klavier and his band. Which means you will, inevitably, have to deal with him. That requires a bit of a steel in your spine -- he turns most people to jelly without even trying."

"I'll bet," Apollo said.

"You're a little awkward, but very few people would tell a prospective boss to his face that they don't like his main client's art -- especially when that client is a blood relation," Mr. Gavin said, and gave him an approving smile. "I think, with a little tempering, we just might find some steel inside you. Congratulations, Mr. Justice, the job is yours if you want it, and if you can start on Wednesday."

It was Monday, mid-morning. But it wasn't like Apollo had anything other than some video editing to wrap up. He nodded eagerly. "I sure can, and thank you, Mr. Gavin. You won't be disappointed."

The album hit platinum a little after 3 PM, while Klavier and the rest of the band were doing a long meet and greet line in MTV's studio. They mostly weren't on air, just meeting people and smiling for selfies and signing posters, but every now and then a producer would run in and tell everyone to get ready and they'd do a live bumper for going into commercials.

It was magical, when they hit platinum officially. The studio crew was ready to go, recording as the pretty MTV personality with a microphone announced it, and the whole crowd cheered. Cameras swooped in on the band's reactions and Klavier grabbed his phone, knowing a photo op when he saw one, spun and held it out so from the camera's perspective he was in front of the gathered crowd, and yelled, "Everyone say ‘platinum'!"

The crowd echoed back enthusiastically and he snapped the shot and had it up on his twitter in a matter of moments:

He slid his phone away after that, since there were plenty more fans to talk with, but he heard a round of laugh and cheers go up and he wondered if anyone else got the reference. If Mikeko would see it and laugh and appreciate it. He hoped so and he'd check later.

Not that he should be thinking about it. But he hadn't expected people to react so strongly to his overture -- he hadn't really thought about what people might do or think. But people really had appreciated that he'd done that. And most importantly, Mikeko had appreciated it.

Not that he'd checked. Not that Mikeko's reply had put a dopey grin on his face. Not that he'd memorized every word of that tweet to savor.

It would be ridiculous if he did that. It would be crazy to think about a cat avatar and smile, and to wonder what the man behind it looked like. If he was as cute as his cat. To mentally compose a mix-tape for him, one which would walk the subtle line between flirty and thoughtful and also introduce him to some new music he might like, maybe. Things Klavier loved and was sure he'd appreciate.

It would be ridiculous to do any of that, because it would mean Klavier had a total crush on him. An anonymous critic who didn't even like him. That would be insane.

Klavier made a mental note to call Kristoph and see what he could find out, if maybe they could get Mikeko's contact information or something and set up an interview. It would be good for both of them -- for his reputation as a nice guy and for Mikeko's subscriber count, surely -- and Kris was good at arranging things like that.

With a ridiculous smile, he turned back to his adoring public and got back to work.

"Oh my god, this is perfect, though," Clay said, three beers deep. Clay wasn't really a lightweight -- that was Apollo -- but Clay always seemed a little drunk on joie de'vivre. He loved life more than anyone else Apollo had ever met. "Because okay, let's be real: Klavier is so into you."

"Yeah, right," Apollo snorted. "That's… stupid. Spurious conclusions! You need evidence!"

"And here you didn't want to be a courtroom attorney," Clay laughed. "But okay, his platinum tweet. It was a very obvious reply to you. Right?"

"That could all be coincidence."

"It's not! He used your words exactly."

"That doesn't mean he's into me, it just means he read my tweet. You're exaggerating and it's weird! Because now his brother is my boss! I'm going to be dealing with him at work! But he doesn't know I'm me, and anyway, it's probably just -- just a joke! He did a nice thing, but like, why would he care? The whole thing is insane! And -- and look at this!"

He slammed his phone down on the table in front of Clay, who glanced at his email. "Requests for statements? From… shit, like, half the internet?"

"Gossip sites!" Apollo half-yelled, and okay, maybe he was kind of drunk. But he was allowed. He was celebrating his new job and also whatever the hell Klavier Gavin was doing. "What is there to gossip about? It was three tweets from him, two from me, the end! I don't even like his album!"

Clay was laughing hysterically now. "Well, four tweets if you count the platinum thing. You have to make a statement!"

"Sure, okay, I'll do that." Apollo grabbed his phone back. Typed. Sent. Clay grabbed it.

"I didn't mean right now! You're drunk! What did you do?"

"I, uh." Apollo blinked. "Shit."

Clay laughed and read it outloud: "‘People keep asking for a statement but I don't have one and also I'm drunk. I'm glad it was a good day!' With three exclamation points. Oh, Polly. You are so wasted."

"Oh, fuck," Apollo said, but he couldn't stop laughing.

"At least if he replies you'll know if he's really reading or not!"

"What should I wear?" Klavier asked, staring at the clothing rack in despair. He was sticky and frankly a little gross, having just finished the main set of their first show. There wasn't enough time to shower before going out for the encore so he'd mopped as much sweat off with a towel as he could, changed out of his leather pants into some ripped jeans, and was clutching a mostly-finished mug of tea with lemon and honey in one hand. It was good for his throat.

Hmm. Maybe Mikeko was right, and he got kind of shouty on some songs. But then again, maybe Mikeko just didn't understand drama. How else was he supposed to keep up with Daryan's power chords?

"First concert," put in Zephyr, the drummer. "Gotta look sexy."

"Ja, gotta, and it's got to look good on twitter, too. There will be pictures."

"Oh my fucking god, is this about that stupid fucking catboy?" Daryan put in, then downed an entire bottle of water. "What the fuck, dude, you have got to stop stalking this loser."

"He's not a loser! And I'm not stalking. I'm just… interested."

A stagehand waved at them, giving the two-minute signal. Klavier frowned at the clothes rack. They'd pulled together dozens of options for each band member to choose from but he was stuck between a top that was just silver mesh, and one that was a ripped and faded t-shirt. Both would look hot.

"Hey," Vance, the bassist, laughed, "just don't wear a shirt, maybe that will impress your catboy."

"Good idea!"

"Don't encourage him," Daryan snapped.

"It's time," the stagehand said, and began pushing them back to the stage with only dim tracklights on the floor to see by.

"Hey," Zephyr called, as he set his phone down. "He tweeted."

The lights came up.

Smiley faces were definitely flirting. Clay was right. What the fuck.

Apollo counted himself lucky when twelve hours passed without any more inexplicable tweets from a rockstar, and then a full day. And then came Wednesday morning, when he showed up at KG Entertainment's office bright and early. A computer and phone had been set up for him at the desk right outside Mr. Gavin's office -- a landline! He hadn't seen one of those in years. There was a notebook and a bunch of pens, too, a big wall calendar, and a lumbar support on the chair. Not much else in the way of his own personality, though another one of those fancy paintings was hanging above the workstation.

He'd barely sat down when Mr. Gavin poked his head out of his office. "Justice, good morning. Coffee, please, the machine is in the breakroom. One half-and-half, two sugars. Five minutes. Once you're here we can begin the morning with you figuring out what the hell my schedule is today. The temp I was using was, I'm sorry to say, not very good."

He gestured, a clear dismissal, and Apollo nodded and scurried to the breakroom. Thankfully he was able to figure out the single-serving coffee maker quickly enough and hustle back and only spilled a little on himself as he went. He grabbed his notebook and pen on his way in and Mr Gavin took the coffee, sipped it, nodded.

"All right. Let's begin."

It was, to be honest, all pretty boring. Meetings to prepare for, emails he had to dig out of Mr. Gavin's inbox and reply to, things like that. Until about eleven, when Mr. Gavin's cell rang. He sighed.

"Well, best he called now so I can introduce you." He answered, on speaker. "Klavier, good morning."

"You stopped screening me! You must be happy with our sales."

Mr. Gavin rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm happy with your sales. And I wasn't screening you. Things were just chaotic, with the temp. Hopefully that is fixed now."

"Ah! A new assistant. Is this one as cute as the last?"

Mr. Gavin made a tsking noise. "You're on speaker. What do you think, Mr. Justice?"

Apollo swallowed, his throat suddenly incredibly dry. This was weird. This would have been weird even without the twitter thing, because it was his boss and his boss's brother and he was pretty sure it was unprofessional. But with all the twitter stuff, which they didn't know about, it was nearly enough to give him a panic attack.

Eventually, Mr. Gavin said, "Cat's got his tongue."

"Sorry!" Apollo managed, and made himself form actual words. "That is, I didn't see your last assistant. I don't know how I measure up, cuteness wise. Judging by the state of your calendar, though, I'm better at my actual job."

Mr. Gavin gave an amused chuckle. "Indeed. Klavier, stop harassing my employees."

"I wasn't! Speakerphone is the devil."

Mr. Gavin's eyebrow twitched up, an indicator of an emotion Apollo couldn't even guess at. Disdain? Amusement? Apollo had no idea.

"Now. What can I do for you, kleiner bruder?"

"You mean, what can I ask you for that your new assistant will do for me instead?"

"Don't sulk."

"Hmph."

Apollo felt a little dizzy, trying to reconcile it all. His boss's unflappable older-sibling energy -- Apollo's family was complicated, but Clay had an older sister, and she sounded just like that whenever Clay went off on a tangent about space. Which was, to be fair to his sister, a lot. But there was that, and the fact that a rockstar was whining into the speakerphone, and also the fact that that rockstar had been flirting with Apollo on twitter, and didn't know it.

Apollo doodled on his notebook, waiting, just drawing and filling in tiny squares.

"All right," Klavier said. "I only have a few minutes before we go, so -- I will be quick. There is this music critic."

"Oh dear lord, not the catboy."

"Kris!" It was downright whiny. "He has not replied to me. It's been a day. He still hasn't even followed me!"

"It sounds like he has quite discerning taste."

Apollo eyed Mr. Gavin's window. It wasn't designed to open. He wondered how much force he'd need to throw himself at it with to break it and thus be able to fling himself out the window.

"Please. I am dying. I just want to know who he is," Klavier said.

"He's probably anonymous for a reason," Apollo said, proud that his voice didn't break. "I mean, most creators have their contact info and real names up, right? But he doesn't, so…"

"Ah, you've remembered how to talk," Mr. Gavin said. "He makes a good point, of course. Let us not pretend you are in any way subtle, Klavier. You have thousands upon thousand of screaming fans. Must you pursue the one person who's uninterested?"

"It isn't like that," Klavier said. "Don't -- don't pathologize me."

"Fine, I won't. Call your therapist, see what she has to say on the matter."

"Kris!" A noise suspiciously like a foot stomp. "Please! You are supposed to look out for me. Look, just -- I want to talk to him, okay? I would be happy to do an interview or something, if he would like that for his channel, but also I would just like to talk to him. I think we could be friends!"

"Well. You clearly aren't going to deal with this unless we do something," Mr. Gavin said. "Very well. Justice, do you think you can manage that?"

"Manage -- manage what?" Apollo asked, pretty sure this time his voice did break.

"To track down this mystery music critic, so Klavier can stop obsessing. Honestly, most rockstars just do cocaine. You stalk two-bit internet personalities. I think cocaine might be a better use of your time. Well, Justice?"

"Find -- find this -- critic?" Apollo repeated, cringing. "I, um." He pressed his pen down a little too hard, ink blotting on the page. "I guess I could figure out… something."

"Great!" Klavier said. "Kris will give you my contact info. I know he's already made you sign the NDAs, all of that, and I'm sure he wouldn't hire you unless you're trustworthy. We'll talk soon! Call me as soon as you've got something!"

He hung up.

Apollo's pen exploded.

Apollo stared at twitter, his finger hovering over the follow button. He really had to do this, didn't he?

He clicked the button. He was now officially following Klavier Gavin on twitter.

Clay had laughed at him, no surprise there, and urged him to just tell his boss and Klavier both. But that wasn't going to happen. The whole idea of it just felt… weird. Apollo had never been one for the spotlight, and he had no idea what it would mean for his job. He definitely was not willing to cede any of his integrity though. He had no idea if Mr. Gavin would want him to give better reviews or anything, but he wasn't taking that chance.

But he also couldn't do nothing because apparently this wasn't going away. If he didn't get some kind of result, he might get fired -- Mr. Gavin had made it clear he expected results. And keeping Klavier happy was literally part of his job. So… he had to do it.

Grimacing, he dialed his phone.

"Hallo, assistant!" Klavier's voice sounded utterly raw and wrecked -- which meant the concert must have just wrapped up, per the schedule Mr. Gavin had shared.

"Um, hi." He'd been given Klavier's contact information and explicit instructions to call when he had information. "Your post-concert time wasn't booked so I wanted to, uh, touch base."

"Ja, I'm on the tour bus now, no clubbing for me tonight, we have to travel. Do you have good news for me?"

"I have… mixed news for you," Apollo said. He'd had to come up with something. "Uh, look, this Mikeko guy is very private. His real name isn't even on his Patreon, and he's got a business email but no info there, either."

At least, there wasn't now. Apollo had always been pretty careful about that, but he'd spent the evening after work searching and scrubbing. Someone very determined could probably still find him, but if Klavier was going to rely on his brother's assistant, he obviously wouldn't be doing that.

"But," Apollo continued, "I did manage to track down a friend." A friend who would corroborate his story, if need be. Clay, who he was going to owe forever, if he had to take part in this. "Who was not willing to share anything, to be clear. But who thinks this is really funny." Which was true. "So he got Mikeko to DM me, and I convinced him to DM you, so that should be… soon. Any time now. I hope."

"Ah," Klavier said, and there was a pause, then, "Ah! He now follows me! You are a miracle worker! Should I message him? Will he think I'm too eager?"

"Why are you so eager?"

"Because he is--" A frustrated pause, then, "Look, I am not going to explain myself to my brother's assistant. I know Kris thinks it is stupid, and I'm sure you do too. But I will tell him you have done a good job, and -- ah! He sent me a message! Okay bye."

Klavier hung up on him.

Apollo sagged in relief. All he'd typed was hi? but apparently that was enough.

The DM from Klavier came through immediately.

What was great was that Apollo could actually be honest now. Because he genuinely had no idea what he was supposed to say or do with all of this, so if Mikeko sounded confused and hesitant, well… he was.

There was a pause, then, long enough for Apollo to make some tea and settle back down. He'd probably be off to bed in a couple of hours but he had some videos to work on first, and now that he had a job he had to do it all in the evenings and over the weekends.

Then:

Apollo snorted his tea. The messages poured in quickly. Yeah, Klavier looked eager. Which was flattering. Just also weird as hell.

He hesitated before pressing send, but it wasn't like that was an uncommon experience. There was no reason Klavier would think anything about it.

Which was more aspirational than anything else, but not really a lie. He hoped he'd be able to do some of the legal side of things for Mr. Gavin. Which, actually, meant for Klavier as well. This was so weird.

Apollo flushed a little. He was, in fact, great at time management. It was stupid to be flattered that a rockstar would notice that, but still.

"Ha," Apollo muttered to himself. He wasn't stalking, he'd just demanded his brother's assistant track down the information of someone who clearly wanted to be anonymous.

And yet it was kind of… nice. The same way his first tweets had been. Like, it was very odd, but it was also clearly well meant and sincere, and judging by the rush at the end, there, Klavier himself was a little insecure.

Imagine that. A rockstar, insecure about talking to Apollo.

But that meant it would be really rude to leave him hanging, so he had to answer.

Apollo stared at his computer.

He knew Klavier had been flirting with him. He'd known from the get-go that Clay was right, even though it had been too weird to admit. But that felt… it was… Klavier was definitely trying to finagle something there. An invite or a picture or something. Apollo wasn't sure how he felt about that, and anyway, he wasn't going to do whatever it was Klavier wanted him to. He couldn't, not without revealing himself, and that wasn't going to happen.

He drank his tea, stared at the DM box, and finally typed:

Apollo rolled his eyes. At least he wasn't being gross, but no, that was not going to happen.

Apollo chewed on it for a second, then, sure it was a bad idea, grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of Mikeko, who was dozing on his bed, and sent it to Klavier.

Who was, of course, extremely over the top about it.

Apollo looked at Mikeko, who opened one eye and gave him a look that plainly said don't you dare. But what was the point in having a cat if not to bother it? He got up so he could scoop Mikeko up and squished her in his arms, and she wiggled and then gave up, resigned to her fate. Apollo laughed and smooched her forehead.

"There you go, you silly cat."

He set Mikeko back on his bed, and Mikeko immediately turned her back and began furiously licking her paw.

Apollo stretched a little and then sighed. He had video work to do, and he wanted an early bed, since he had another long day in the office tomorrow. He tapped his fingers for a second, then began typing.

And that was that. Hopefully Klavier's curiosity was sated and since his flirting hadn't worked he'd find someone who was more interested to hit on.

Apollo closed twitter, opened his in-progress video, and got to work.

Klavier stared at the ceiling of the bus. Normally he slept fine on his bus, even when Daryan snored in his bunk across the tiny hall. He was always wired after a concert but crashed after that, so overnight travel really worked out.

But not tonight.

Tonight, all he could do was scroll up through the twitter conversation over and over.

He'd used so many exclamation points. He read through it again and cringed. There had been so many times he'd sent four or five messages in a row, far too eager. His stomach had fluttered with every reply, and he'd been devastated during the lulls.

He was Klavier Gavin! He was a rockstar! Flirting wasn't even second nature to him, it was in his very core. Yes, sure, he was dramatic, but always in a cool way. Not like this. Not like a silly kid with a crush.

Oh lord, maybe Kristoph was right, and wasn't that the absolute worst possible outcome. Maybe he was just obsessessing. He wanted everyone to like him -- what was so wrong with that? Being liked was great! But of course he found one critic who didn't, of course he obsessed.

He'd made such a fool of himself.

Mikeko probably thought he was crazy. Should he apologize? Or would that be crazier? Had it really gone that badly?

Usually people fell all over themselves for him. He knew that he had to be careful not to act too entitled. This whole thing -- this whole thing had been over line, hadn't it? Tracking him down in the first place. No wonder he wanted to keep anonymous.

Oh god.

Klavier rolled over, face buried in his pillow, and wanted to scream. He'd had to clarify that he wasn't asking for nudes. From a man who wouldn't even put his real name on twitter, let alone his face.

"Daryan," he whined.

"I'm asleep. An' if it's about your fucking catboy I'm gonna garotte you with a guitar string."

He groaned and opened the conversation again, scrolled through it again. Maybe it hadn't been that bad.

…no, it had been. There, and further down where he…

There was a new message.

His hand almost shook as he read it, from just a second ago.

It was a video still, the cartoon cat with text bubbles, which was how he did all of his video titles. The text in this one read, Did I mention he LITERALLY MURDERED someone?

Klavier grinned. Not from the image, but because he'd gotten anything at all. Maybe Mikeko didn't mind everything after all. But now he had to reply.

Normal. Cool. Be cool and normal. He could do that.

Then, finally, he was able to sleep himself.

Yeah, Apollo hoped that, too. But still, he couldn't help but smile as he drank his coffee.

It was silly. He had known he was inviting more when he sent that picture last night, but he was proud of how the video was shaping up and he was sure Klavier would actually like it. And while he hadn't been sure he would wake up to more messages, he'd kind of suspected, and it was… nice.

Yeah. It was nice.

It wasn't that Apollo was lonely, exactly. But he didn't have much in the way of family -- not since coming to California, where he'd ended up bouncing around between foster families. The last one had been pretty lovely, had encouraged him to start making his videos and helped him figure out how to apply for all the loans he'd needed for undergrad and all that. And they were always happy for him to come visit, always invited him for holidays and stuff.

But they weren't really all that close. And he didn't have a ton of other close friends, either. Really, just Clay, who'd been his one constant much longer than any foster family. And yeah, there were people he was friendly with from law school, and there were definitely people online who wanted to be friends with him. He got invited to do collabs all the time. He just wasn't very good at forging and then keeping close relationships.

It was his own fault, really.

But still, waking up to a hope-you-slept-well message felt really good. So as he waited for his coffee to finish percolating he sent:

Coffee, breakfast, brushed teeth, tied tie, laced shoes, grabbed keys, out the door. He parked in the giant garage down the block from the office and glanced at his phone before getting out.

Apollo blinked a few times, then laughed.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and headed in to work.

The morning was pretty similar to the previous day -- getting Mr. Gavin's coffee, going through some updates from him first thing, and then getting back to work on untangling his schedule. Apollo's predecessor really had made a mess of the calendar, and the temp hadn't been any better.

He was also now taking Mr. Gavin's calls. He had a list of people to always put through, which seemed like it was mostly business-related people, and a list of people to let through if time and Mr. Gavin's schedule allowed. Klavier was actually on that list, which felt a little harsh -- Apollo liked to think that if he had family, they'd be on the always-answer list. But then again, the rest of the band and the other clients were all also in that category, so it wasn't personal.

There was only one name on the list of people to never, ever be put through to Mr. Gavin, someone named Phoenix Wright. What a weird name. But the instructions on that were clear. Never put him through, but always tell Mr. Gavin immediately that he'd called.

At lunchtime, Mr. Gavin had him go pick up lunch for him at a local deli, and Apollo got himself a sandwich, too, and checked his phone while he waited in line.

And then there was a photo of him from behind, wearing leather pants, which looked like they must have been painted on.

Apollo swallowed. He genuinely couldn't tell if it was a come on or a real question or if Klavier was upset. It was so hard to read tone, and that exclamation point could have been because he was happy, or angry, or just because he used them all the time.

But also: yeah.

Yeah, his ass looked phenomenal.

Holy shit.

But still. Since he couldn't really tell what tone Klavier was trying for, he had to make some assumptions.

Apollo frowned a little. That sounded… something.

The deli called Apollo's number and he grabbed the lunches, stewing over what to say as he walked back to the office. He paused in the lobby.

He headed upstairs.

"Heyyyy, Klavier." The DJ gave him a huge grin.

Klavier braced himself. He knew something was coming. This always happened. It was only a question of what the DJ would ask him for -- a date, a favor, an invite past a velvet rope. He made himself smile.

"Hey, what's up?" he said, but he was still heading toward the town car waiting to chauffeur him to the next location.

"I was just wondering, uh." The DJ held out a thumb drive. "I recorded some stuff. I'm sure people ask you this all the time, but would you be able to listen and maybe email me what you think? Or… or play it for your manager or someone?"

As if Kris would ever listen to a stranger's music like this. But Klavier accepted the drive. "I will see what I can do! No promises, but if I get a chance."

"Thanks! I appreciate it. You're awesome," the DJ said and finally stopped dogging his steps.

Klavier kept his smile in place until he was in the car with its tinted windows. He shoved the drive into his pocket. It wasn't that he minded being asked for such things -- when someone he actually knew asked he was always happy to help. But the DJ had gotten one thing right: he was asked for favors like that all the time. Usually by strangers. People who didn't know him but would love to use him, or who saw him as nothing but a direct line to their own success. Like he wasn't even a person, he was a walking opportunity.

Too bad Daryan hadn't been there; Daryan was good at telling people to leave them alone. The bad boy to Klavier's golden boy, as he liked to joke. It was Kristoph who'd pushed them into those roles -- maybe some of it was where they gravitated naturally, but Kristoph had spent the first few years of their career scolding them. Daryan can be sarcastic, but you have to be sincere, Klavier. Upbeat. Kind. No, don't frown in interviews, it's unattractive and unappealingly negative. You're the front man, the shining beacon. You have to smile.

Daryan had always laughed about it, back then. Had enjoyed getting to party without worrying about his image -- Kristoph didn't care what he did. Only Klavier. It had been a joke.

These days, it didn't feel like Daryan was joking when he called Klavier golden boy. He wasn't sure when it had changed, but Daryan was unhappy, Klavier was certain.

He pushed it out of his mind. He'd talk to Daryan about it soon. They'd go party together, have fun, remember why they were best friends. It would be fine.

In the meantime, safely ensconced in the car, he grabbed his phone and grinned for real when he saw Mikeko had answered him.

He read it again and again, something warming in his chest. He reread the whole exchange from the picture he'd sent and it felt so good. So real.

Klavier had been so ridiculous from that very first message, a few days ago now. It had been just a silly crush. It hadn't really meant anything, except that his insecurities that made him want everyone to like him were acting up. The messages had been a fun diversion, a nice thing to think about while he tried to doze off on the tour bus.

But this was…

This was a reply that was thoughtful and kind and… and empathetic. Yes, Klavier's joke had been stupid. He probably shouldn't have made an off-hand comment about being groped, but it hadn't even occurred to him that anyone would think he was upset. It happened all the time, and yeah, it was weird, it was not his favorite thing, just like when people asked him for favors. But he did try to be sexy everywhere he went and he liked when people were attracted to him, so he always laughed it off.

But Mikeko had worried. He wanted Klavier to make sure Klavier was okay. His first instinct hadn't been to flirt, it had been to help. He'd looked at a picture of Klavier in leather, a picture many people would kill to have land in their inbox, and he'd ignored it in favor of checking in.

But that made sense. Most people would have swooned for Klavier; he was used to that. And just about anyone else would definitely have used the string of DMs to ask for something. An interview for his channel, or tickets to the show, or something.

But Mikeko hadn't asked. He wasn't trying to use Klavier. Even though Klavier was desperately offering. Instead he was --

He was treating Klavier like a person.

Before, it had been a silly crush based on nothing much. He wanted a critic who hated him to like him instead. That was all. He'd always been attracted to people who didn't like him much, it was a fun challenge to try to overcome that and he really did like being adored. It was fun to flirt and it had been a great distraction during the overnight bus trip. It wasn't like that had been fake or he hadn't cared, he had.

But now, it felt like something that mattered. He wanted to know Mikeko for real. What made him tick, what his life was like, why he'd gone to law school, what he did in his free time. Where he'd gone to college, if he had any siblings, why he'd started making videos. He wanted so much, from a person whose name he didn't even know.

The car had pulled up to a curb, waiting for him to get out and head in for his next interview, but he didn't move, sending a message instead.

"Klavier?" the driver called.

"Ja! I'm going!" he answered cheerfully, put his phone on silent, and went to get to work.

Apollo had always really liked routines because he liked to know what to expect, how to prepare for it. And, weird as it was, he found one. He and Klavier would say hi in the morning, usually exchange a few DMs about their coffee or breakfast or whatever. Then he went off to work, where he was getting the hang of things. Mr. Gavin mostly didn't need to hover over his shoulder anymore, so he'd been let loose on a closet full of filing cabinets that needed to have everything organized and catalogued. A few more DMs during lunch, or really, whenever they both got breaks. Klavier's schedule was hectic, capped off by shows most nights; Apollo's was a lot more sane but depending on what he was working on and what Mr. Gavin needed his lunch break could shift around. After work, Apollo would work on his videos or he'd grab a bite with Clay, and later, whenever Klavier's show wrapped up, they'd just chat for awhile until he drifted off.

A week in, he facepalmed but also smiled when Klavier posted a playlist on twitter, soothing music for cranky critics, with no explanation. It was actually a really good mix, low-key stuff he could listen to while he filed papers at work, which of course Klavier knew he was doing because he'd mentioned it in their DMs. Vaguely, of course. He was still being careful not to mention many details about his life.

He was actually dealing with those files, the mix cranked up in his ears, when the shouting started.

"Wait! You can't -- hey -- stop!"

He pulled his headphones off and poked his head out. One of the accountants who helped keep the books was trailing after a stranger who was striding determinedly for Mr. Gavin's office. Even aside from the commotion, the stranger looked out of place, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and sandals. He ignored everyone's stares and banged on Mr. Gavin's door.

Which, a moment later, opened. Mr. Gavin looked furious for just a moment, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. But then his placid, condescending smile was back.

"That was certainly dramatic. If you want my attention, you could just call me like anyone else," Mr. Gavin said.

"So you could have your assistant refuse to put me through? I tell you what, let's just pretend you've already pulled your fun little power play and go talk in your office so we can get to the lying-to-my-face part of this conversation."

"If you're so convinced I'm a liar, why bother at all?"

"Don't make me drag this back to court."

"Are you sure you can afford to take me to court?" Mr. Gavin returned. "You've already drained your daughter's college savings, what do you have left? You need to let this go, Wright. Ask any of your friends and they'll tell you the same."

Wright. Whose phone calls Apollo was never supposed to put through. He gaped a little, wondering what the hell they were talking about.

"You used to be my friend," Wright said.

"And who's fault is it that ended? I'm not the one who dissolved the company. I'm not the one who filed that first suit."

Wright shook his head. "Play the innocent all you want, but we both know you cheated, somehow. The truth is going to come out eventually. And when it does…"

"Get out," Mr. Gavin said. "Before you make a threat, in front of all of my employees, who will corroborate exactly what's happened here. I would hate to have to call security to eject you."

"Your building security likes me more than you, how do you think I got in here in the first place?" Wright returned, voice wry. "Tell Valant to back down. Because I won't. Not with my daughter's future on the line."

"I will advise Mr. Gramarye to do what I feel is best for his career. As I always have."

"You're a shithead, Kristoph."

"And you're a drunk. Are we done?"

"Oh, we were done a long time ago. That's why I dissolved the company." He turned around, gave an over-his-shoulder wave. "See you in court."

Kristoph watched him go, unmoving, looking even more like a terrifying marble statue than usual. Only when the door to the suite slammed did he snap his fingers and call, "Back to work, everyone. Justice, in my office. Now."

Apollo scrambled to follow him in. Mr. Gavin slammed the door behind him. Apollo fought down the urge to apologize -- it wasn't like he had done anything wrong, he had been doing the filing clean up work Mr. Gavin wanted him to! But anger was practically rolling off Mr. Gavin in waves.

"Well, that was obnoxious. Of course, he's an extremely obnoxious person." He scowled at the door. "Get on the phone with Valant Gramarye, I need him in here to meet with me today, do not take no for an answer. Clear everything else from my afternoon. Once that's done, I'll need you to find all the Gramarye files in the storage room -- there are a lot of them, but if Wright actually follows through with that lawsuit threat we will need to be prepared. Oh, and get me the contact information for Drew Misham, it should be somewhere in those files as well."

"Okay. Do you want me to get him in, too?" Apollo asked.

"No -- no, I'll call Misham myself, just get me his number. Get to it, Justice."

Apollo had about a million questions, but he didn't think Mr. Gavin would answer them, and with that much intense anger in the room it was a relief to hurry out anyway. Valant Gramarye was easy enough to get in touch with, his number listed among the contacts for all of Mr. Gavin's clients. He didn't seem at all surprised to hear from him and agreed to show up mid-afternoon and talk for as long as Mr. Gavin wanted.

Drew Misham was harder to find. Mr. Gavin had said his information was in a file somewhere in the Gramarye documents, but Apollo had done enough file clean-up to know just how extensive the Gramarye stuff was. Several full drawers of the filing cabinet, in fact. Valant himself was already in the office before Apollo found it, a folder within a folder, with no explanation or anything. It was labeled Misham and all that was inside was a sheet with a phone number and address. He copied it, knocked on Mr. Gavin's door, and set it on his desk. That got him a nod and a dismissal and he was back to pulling files.

At least as he found and organized the files, he was able to glean some of what must have happened. It wasn't exactly spelled out, but he could see the story in contracts and memos and legal documents, all from a previous suit. Or multiple suits. It was a lot.

From what Apollo could figure, there had been a group of magicians called Troupe Gramarye. They had been represented by an entity called WG Talent -- and that "G" definitely stood for "Gavin" so the "W" was presumably "Wright". When the troupe leader passed away, it was unclear exactly who was meant to inherit the performance rights to the troupe's show and all their tricks, and it had become even muddier when one of the two presumed heirs also died, but he had a clear heir in a daughter. So now the question was, did Valant Gramarye or Trucy Enigmar own the rights?

The original management firm had dissolved over that question, with Mr. Gavin firmly supporting Valant and Wright taking the girl's side. And then it had been further complicated, Apollo suspected, by what turned out to be adoption paperwork -- Wright had taken in the girl. What had he shouted at Mr. Gavin? Something about his daughter's future.

The whole thing had been an ongoing dispute for years, and so far neither party was actually performing any of the old Gramarye routines. Hidden in the file room, Apollo opened his phone, ignored the waiting DMs from Klavier, and googled Trucy Wright. He set the date for recent news, and the first thing that popped up was an announcement that Trucy Wright, Heir to the Troupe Gramarye, would be performing her first full stage show in a matter of months, something called Trucy in Gramaryeland.

Apollo didn't know what the current situation was, but he had a few guesses. Maybe she was using the tricks that were off limits since the owner was unclear -- but that seemed unlikely, since surely they wouldn't do something so flagrant. Maybe there was a stay on the use of the Gramarye name or something like that.

He ended up staying late that night, getting the files into an organized date order. Paperwork from the former company, the original contract with the Gramaryes, and everything relating to it; paperwork on the dissolution of that company, on the voiding of those contracts, etc. Then a gap, while KG got up and running, and then a huge stack of files pertaining to the first legal argument over the performance rights, and a few years later a second case.

There were a lot of miscellaneous documents, too -- the founding of KG Entertainment had happened as the old firm had been dissolved, which meant that it was all pretty coupled together, along with the Gramarye suits. There was just… a lot. From what Apollo could tell, really, the only client that was more involved or required more paperwork was Klavier and the rest of the Gavinners, and that was likely because they were so successful. A new deal every day, for merch or a show or an appearance.

It was late by the time Apollo finished up, but Mr. Gavin was still in his office and beckoned Apollo in.

"Unfortunately, this mess with Valant will need to be cleaned up over the weekend," Mr. Gavin said. "I'll handle that, of course, but that means I'll be too tied up to see to Klavier and his ridiculous needs. That will have to fall to you."

"What… what will?"

Mr. Gavin shrugged a little. "They have a show at the Sunshine Coliseum this weekend. The band loves playing in LA -- getting to sleep it off at home for a change. But of course, Klavier will need someone to get his house ready. Somewhere in your desk there's a file, the grocery list and other tasks."

"Oh." Apollo managed not to groan or frown or anything. "When does this need to happen?"

"Tomorrow morning -- the show's in the evening, but it's unlikely he'll have time to stop by the house before then. And Monday after work you'll have to deal with closing it back down -- we can't leave anything rotting in the garbage for weeks until he returns."

"I see," Apollo said. It wasn't exactly an exciting notion, giving up his Saturday to do grunt work for a celebrity… even if that celebrity sent surprisingly charming DMs to him all day, every day. It felt almost like two different people. There was Klavier the rockstar, whose brother was his boss, and who he apparently was going to play errand boy for; and there was Klavier the twitter guy. Who used too many exclamation points but somehow always put Apollo in a slightly better mood. And it wasn't like either version was the one telling him he had to do chores all weekend. That was just Mr. Gavin.

"Is there a problem?" Mr. Gavin asked.

"No -- not at all. Is this something you would usually deal with, if everything with Mr. Gramarye hadn't come up?"

Mr. Gavin raised an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous. I would have given you rather more advance warning, though, so you could have done it during work hours. But these things happen. The talent is our bread and butter, and Klavier is the center of everything. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Apollo promised.

"Good. The file in your desk will also contain a key fob and instructions on the security, and so on. I'll trust you to see to it."

With that, Apollo was off for the evening.

Maybe it was a little weird but he smirked to himself as he sent a DM: guess who has to work this weekend?

Apollo stared at the notices on Klavier's door. Bright red and duct taped on, giant warnings. YOUR HOUSE WILL BE SEIZED. It couldn't possibly be real, but Apollo grabbed a few photos on his phone and then unlocked the door, entered the security key, and saw a stack of stuff that had been shoved under the door: notices that his mortgage hadn't been paid, his account was months overdue, and it was going to be foreclosed.

What the hell?

His first instinct was to DM Klavier, and it took him a second to remember, Klavier had no idea that the guy he'd been sending flirty messages to for days was his brother's assistant. Who he had only ever had brief contact from and had no reason to remember he existed.

But Apollo did have his contact information, officially, as himself. And this seemed pretty important, so he retrieved the stack of notices and made the call. He didn't expect an answer -- Klavier was probably doing press stuff all day, like usual. But after a few rings, he unexpectedly got, "Hallo, assistant?"

"Uh, my name is Apollo, actually," Apollo said.

"Oh, I had 'assistant' in my phone. Does Kris need something?"

"No, but I'm at your house, he had me come turn your breakers on and stuff."

"Oh! He thinks of everything."

"Yeah, um, and there's a bunch of notices threatening foreclosure? Apparently you haven't paid in awhile. I thought you might want to know."

"What?" He sounded incredulous. "That's impossible. I purchased outright, it all went through Kris, there must be a mistake."

"I guess, maybe? I'll send you pictures." He pulled his phone away and texted the photos. "It seems like something you should look into."

"Huh, this is very strange. Can you just ask Kris about it? I've got to prepare for my show tonight, I don't have time. Thanks, assistant!"

"It's Apollo," he said, but Klavier had already hung up.

And weirdly, his first instinct was to open his DMs and complain to Klavier. Which obviously he couldn't do. But it was a good reminder, the flirty guy who seemed a little obsessed with him was, actually, a smug rockstar whose music he didn't even like. He put his phone away and got to work.

Handling Klavier's house, even contacting Kristoph to let him know what was going on -- "Just bring the notices to the office on Monday, Justice, I'll deal with it then," apparently -- didn't actually take that long, but Apollo was stuck in traffic as he drove back to his own place, planning to spend the rest of the day finishing his next video. It would be good to immerse himself in it, after a week of long days at work. Besides, with his sudden reminder that he didn't actually like Klavier Gavin, he would be better prepared to ignore any DMs that came his way and focus on videos instead.

Except.

He had on the radio as he drove, and thankfully as it came on the ending chords of Guilty Love were playing, which meant he'd missed it and it would be awhile before they played it again, so he wouldn't be cursed with it this time. But then the DJ came on, with, "That was Guilty Love and we've got Klavier Gavin himself live in our studio, talking with us about musical influence."

"Hallo! It's great to be here!"

Apollo grimaced and thought about changing stations, but didn't bother. It was probably just a quick bumper before they got back to the music.

"So we were talking a little bit about musical influence, what you've collected traveling the country on tour," the DJ yammered, and Apollo tuned it out. The segment went on and it wasn't all that annoying, Klavier talking about music he'd been into from different parts of the country, and then internationally, like everyone didn't already know he was German. And then about music and instruments he wanted to pick up.

"Well -- well, my mother plays violin, and of course I play piano and guitar," he continued, "and a little violin, but I'm not that good at it." A self-deprecating laugh. "I want to play every string instrument out there but some are hard to find. There's this thing -- not a sitar, but a variation, I think, they use for rituals in Khura'in, I've only heard it once or twice, I want to go that obscure. Khura'inese sitar, and put it behind a great song, you know!"

Whaaaat.

Apollo didn't think about Khura'in a lot. Sometimes it felt like that had been someone else's childhood. But anyone from Khura'in would know it wasn't a sitar, the Dance of Devotion was played every morning and it was unmistakable.

He hit a red light, grabbed his phone, and tweeted.

He started driving again and wondered if maybe that should have been a DM. Judging by the overwhelming notifications he had when he got home, yeah, probably. Whoops.

"Well," Clay laughed into his beer, "it's not like the extra five hundred a month is going to hurt you. And think of it like this, next time your boss says you have to go clean his house or whatever you could just quit and he's still actually paying you!"

Apollo made a huffy noise. But making a video about Khura'inese musical tradition was actually a pretty cool idea, not many people knew about it and it was something he could get really in depth on.

Not that he was just going to do it because Klavier had asked him. Hmph.

It wasn't exactly detective work, but the thought had been like a lightning bolt. Mikeko had never said anything about where he lived, so Klavier hadn't even tried to guess, but since it seemed like he'd been listening on an actual radio, if he'd changed the station, he must have been somewhere in or around LA.

He laughed. It was essentially a confirmation.

His heart fluttered as he thought about it, hoping against hope. They had been flirting for days now, and he was certain Mikeko had warmed up to him. He'd started gleaning things about the critic's life in tiny pieces -- he lived in LA, he was originally from Khura'in. His father had been a lawyer and though he'd gone to law school he hadn't ultimately wanted to be an attorney so he hadn't ever taken the Bar. He had a best friend who was doing some sort of very intense training but they still hung out all the time and watched Japanese kaiju movies together. Mikeko the cat had been adopted out of a shelter and was still suspicious and hissed at everyone, but Mikeko the person gave her treats and bought her preferred expensive cat food, because she'd had a hard life.

Klavier knew so much from just their silly messages. But he didn't know Mikeko's real name. He'd never seen a photo of him. And yet he was imagining so much. Dates, to start with, wooing Mikeko with fancy food, maybe authentic food from chefs from all over the world. Hanging out together, watching movies with friends on a couch, having Mikeko tucked up against his side. Listening to music together, old records from Klavier's collection, which everyone else thought were pretentious vinyl but he loved. Sleepy mornings waking up together, making Mikeko's tea for him before he rushed off to work.

A whole life.

It was ridiculous.

Mikeko was just someone who lived in his phone, a nameless, faceless critic who sometimes flirted with him but mostly teased him. But those messages were the best parts of his day, even on tour, and he loved being on tour. And surely after all this time, Mikeko was warming up to him. He had to be.

His stomach dropped.

He set down his phone and buried his head in his hands. It was okay. Being friends was fine. It was wonderful, even, to have a good friend living in his phone. But he'd thought -- he'd hoped --

It had been a stupid hope. If Mikeko liked him he'd have said something, offered a name on his own, or a photo. Actual information about himself, not just things Klavier could barely glean about the periphery of his life. No, just because he had a crush didn't mean Mikeko did. For all he knew, Mikeko had a boyfriend already.

He groaned into his hands. He was a rockstar. He was supposed to be cool. But somehow this silly crush made him feel like an awkward pre-teen, sweaty hands and shaky voice, desperately hoping that someone in his class would look his way and smile.

"Hey." Daryan appeared in the doorway of his greenroom, already showered and dressed after the show. "Oh come the fuck on, dude, don't tell me you're just going to go home. You haven't come out this whole tour, practically."

Klavier sighed. It was true. Usually he'd be out with the rest of the band after any shows where they didn't have to get right on the bus, drinking and having a good time. Getting laid. But he hadn't on this tour, really. He'd holed up in hotel rooms, messaging Mikeko.

He sighed. "All right. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

Daryan gave him a smirk. "Fucking finally, dude."

So he did, showering quickly and changing into a pair of tight jeans and a shirt that he kept mostly unbuttoned, and he let Daryan take him out and pour drinks into his mouth. He didn't check his phone the whole time and soon he was in a VIP lounge with a pretty girl on his lap and a pretty boy kissing his neck and it was good, and he bought drinks for everyone and that was good too, and maybe the club's owner said something about his credit card being declined but that was okay because they were happy to comp everything, and the next thing he knew his head was spinning and someone was sucking his dick which was very nice, and he woke up the next morning in his own bed.

He was hungover and still lying there when the angry phone call from Kristoph came in. "Have you looked at the gossip sites this morning?"

"I have not looked at anything but the ceiling above my bed this morning," Klavier said, and with a glance at his clock realized it was almost noon and he had to pee. "Why?"

"Pictures of you everywhere. The sort of pictures that need a black bar over certain parts. You couldn't have taken your paramours home?"

"Ugggh." He sat up. "Well, everyone had a good time. That's what's important."

"Hmph. So much for your 'good boy of rock and roll' image. As pathetic as your catboy obsession has been, at least it kept you out of trouble."

"It's not pathetic. I'm not obsessed." His head hurt and he shut his eyes. "Anyway, it's over, I'm pretty sure. I asked him out and he said no, he was very clear."

"Oh? You haven't seen his twitter this morning then, I take it."

"Hmm?" He rubbed his eyes, put the phone on speaker, and switched over to look at twitter. More specifically, to look at Mikeko's twitter.

He grinned. "He thinks I'm handsome."

"I'm hanging up. Come by the office tomorrow."

Apollo was sitting quietly at the side of the room, taking notes while Mr. Gavin spoke with one of the publicists they used, trying to arrange some good press for the band to counteract Klavier's night of drunken shenanigans. It would be pretty easy to arrange him dropping by a children's hospital on short notice, and apparently that was always a winner. Apollo tried to keep his face neutral while they talked about it and not think of it as kind of gross to use sick kids like that. It made the kids happy, though, he supposed.

They were wrapping up when Klavier himself burst into the office, accompanied by a smattering of laughs and oohs and ahhs. It was the biggest commotion in the office since Phoenix Wright had stormed in, but this time everyone was extremely cheerful about it.

Apollo did a double-take, realizing this was the first time he'd seen Klavier in person. Klavier, who had been DMing him but didn't know it; Klavier, the walking sex symbol Apollo had turned down, which suddenly seemed like a very stupid move. Klavier was gorgeous, his smile bright and every move he made fluid and graceful.

Mr. Gavin just leaned back in his chair and waited until Klavier showed himself in. "Hallo, Kris! As you demanded, I am here for you to scold in person about my bad decisions." He had his hands in his pockets, at least as far as pants that tight would allow, and a grin on his face.

Mr. Gavin crossed his arms. "Out of everyone in the world, surely you know that I am not charmed by your happy-go-lucky attitude."

"Of course I know that. Perhaps it's not you I'm trying to charm. Hallo, assistant." He turned his grin on Apollo and winked.

Which was -- wow.

But it was also ridiculous. It would have been one thing if he knew Apollo was Mikeko, but he didn't. Which meant that wink was for no reason at all. So Apollo just answered, "My name is Apollo."

"Ach, I forgot. What can I do to get you to forgive me?" he said, a little smirk playing on his lips.

Apollo was not charmed. He refused to be charmed. Just because, it turned out, in person Klavier Gavin had thick lashes and bright eyes and a smile that should have been illegal, Apollo was not charmed.

Besides, it was a good reminder. Yeah, he got flirty in their DMs, but Klavier didn't even really mean anything with them. He was just like that, happy to wink at anyone who caught his eye, flirting with everyone he spoke to. Maybe Mr. Gavin had been right that first day on the phone, when he'd said Klavier only wanted the people he couldn't have.

"Well, since one of my jobs this afternoon is taking out your garbage, not much," Apollo said, and leaned back in his chair, mimicking Mr. Gavin's body language a little.

"I didn't create that big a mess in the gossip columns, did I?"

"You did," Mr. Gavin said, "but he meant literally. Honestly, Klavier, do you think your house cleans itself?"

"Ah," Klavier said. "Well. I hadn't thought about it."

"Of course you hadn't. You expect someone else to clean up your messes, whether it's your public image or your house."

"I'm not that bad," Klavier said, pouting. "Am I?"

If he expected the pout to force Mr. Gavin to relent, apparently he was mistaken. All he got was an eyeroll. "I'm taking care of it. But those are not your only messes. Have you looked at your finances lately?"

"No, that's what I have you for," Klavier said.

"Well, you've made a huge mess of them. I had to deal with your mortgage situation this morning."

Klavier frowned. "I told you, I thought I bought the house outright, I didn't know there were monthly payments."

"You thought. Gott im Himmel, the rockstar thought he'd done something. Well, I fixed it for you, you're welcome."

"Thank you, Kris," Klavier said. "I'd have said that without the prompting, though. You know I'm grateful."

"I know. But it wouldn't hurt you to be a little more responsible. Justice," he turned to Apollo, "I know Klavier's already put you behind in your work, but I'm going to need you to comb through and reconcile his accounts. He'll give you access to everything, we need to make sure he's not bleeding money anywhere else unexpected."

"Uh, okay," Apollo said. "I can do that."

"Thank you," Klavier said, pointed, facing Apollo but cutting his gaze over to his brother. "I appreciate it, assistant."

"My name is Apollo," he muttered.

"Good," Kristoph declared. "And Klavier, do try not to cause us any more headaches."

Apollo's alarm went off, and so did his text alert.

Apollo really should have known better than to look at anything Clay sent him. Especially when he wasn't awake enough to even guess if it was just a Rickroll, something Clay somehow still thought was funny. But no, instead it was a tweet from someone with the username KlaviStan.

The tweet had a video of Klavier, which Apollo watched, not sure why Clay would send it to him. It was Klavier at an animal shelter, talking with one of the volunteers, which was what they'd eventually settled on for his image clean up.

"Are you a cat person or a dog person?"

"Do I have to pick? Ach, we had a doggie when I was a kid, I always thought I was a dog person." He smiled a little, right at the camera, and gahhh it was annoying how nice his smile really was. "But lately, I think, perhaps I am a cat person. I like a nice calico in particular."

Apollo groaned. It was so freaking cheesy.

But that same KlaviStan person had followed it with another tweet, which had a drawing and the text oops my hand slipped. The drawing was actually really good, an anime-style picture of Klavier kissing some redheaded guy who was blushing fiercely and wearing headphones shaped like cat ears, and fuck, that was supposed to be Apollo, wasn't it? Or rather, Mikeko. Because no one had any idea who he was or what he looked like.

Fuck my life, he sent back to Clay.

Apollo grumbled. I was up until 2 AM trying to figure out his finances and I've gotta go to work. I'm too tired for this.

But he opened his DMs and there was his usual morning greeting from Klavier. Guten morgen! Back on the road for me, did you know highways are very boring?

Apollo closed it without answering, because he was sure if Klavier knew who he was that message would have been another obnoxious hallo assistant! And maybe being that annoyed wasn't fair, since Klavier had no idea who he was, but then again the fact that Klavier was so dismissive of the guy who was taking care of his house and his finances didn't say anything good, either.

And the finances were a mess.

From what he could tell, Klavier never so much as looked at his bank accounts. He mainly used some fancy credit card and every now and then the whole thing was automatically paid off from a savings account somewhere. The expenses were all extremely celebrity stuff -- so much food and booze, clothing, guitars -- did he really need more guitars? Reserving a yacht for rental. Cologne that cost a thousand dollars. Jewelry that cost even more.

It was fine. Klavier could afford it. But that galled him a little bit, which was stupid. Apollo knew he was in a pretty decent financial situation himself. His videos brought in a pretty good income stream all on their own; if he wanted to, he could probably do that full time. He only had the job with Mr. Gavin because he wanted to, he wanted to break into the industry. Which made for a very nice paycheck for someone in his early 20s -- he could live on his salary and throw most of the Youtube money at his law school debt. He was doing great, really.

But there was doing great, and then there was being so wealthy it was stupid.

There was one catch, though, which was that as he dug into Klavier's finances he got the impression Klavier was not, actually, as stupidly rich as he looked. Apollo would have expected his income to be split between payments from KG Entertainment and payments from his record label, but it looked like it all came in from KG, so the label must have sent the money to Mr. Gavin to take his percentage and then send the rest to Klavier. Which was happening, but in surprisingly random dumps, which were generally almost exactly what was needed to cover Klavier's credit card expenses, which was… weird. That it worked out so exactly like that.

He'd eventually made a note to ask Mr. Gavin about it and had fallen into bed, his head swimming with numbers. He hadn't even had a chance to work on his video and he was going to fall behind in his schedule, which was annoying, but he supposed that was the trade off for having a day job. He could always adjust his schedule, like he had during law school.

Still.

He ignored the DM and put his phone back on his bedside table and got up to get ready for work.

The day was, thankfully, pretty normal. Quiet, even. No interruptions from Klavier, since he was now on a tour bus on his way to the night's show, and no dramatic interruptions from anyone else, either. Mr. Gavin had blocked out his whole afternoon to go talk to lawyers about the brewing Gramarye situation, though, so he would be unreachable. Which meant Apollo had plenty of time to get back to work on cleaning up the files in the storage room.

By most people's standards that would have been incredibly boring, but Apollo really did like zeroing in on the little details. Contracts, when they'd been signed, what they'd included, all the marginalia and drafts that showed how they'd evolved and been negotiated. Court documents to settle rights disputes, what kind of proof could be used to show how things had really been decided. Like with the Gramarye case, where the will hadn't been clear at all, an old diary -- pages painstakingly photocopied into the log Apollo was filing -- had referred to Valant as the chosen heir, lending credence to his case, when all the Wright/Enigmar claim had was verbal discussion.

Then there were the Gavinners contracts, which were… extensive, was the only word for it. KG Entertainment handled everything, to the point where technically Mr. Gavin actually owned the rights to their whole catalogue -- all the music, all of their images, their names, the performance rights, all of it. If something ever went bad between Klavier and his brother, things would be really difficult, since he'd be locked into this contract and not able to so much as sign his name without permission. Apollo had never heard of anything like it.

But if Klavier couldn't trust his brother, who could he trust? He'd signed away his life, yeah, but Mr. Gavin also relied on him for most of his business, so needed him, too. And even if they didn't need each other, they were brothers. Family. That meant something.

By the time he wandered out of work, on time for the first time in awhile, he had another few DMs from Klavier.

Apollo groaned. He was irritated but that was actually a fun idea, and if he'd learned anything from the weeks of DMs it was that they did actually have pretty similar tastes in a lot of regards. The mix Klavier had made him the previous week had been really great and introduced him to some new music, things he was now really enjoying.

He closed out of twitter and called Clay instead, putting it on speaker for the drive home. "He can't even be bothered to learn my name in real life. It's like -- a guy who isn't nice to the waiter isn't a nice guy, right? Well, what does it say about him that he can slide into my DMs to flirt when he thinks I'm a critic but he can't remember my name when I'm an assistant?"

"Huh, okay, don't kill me," Clay said, "but the 'assistant' thing kind of also sounds like flirting. I mean shitty flirting, but if he hasn't done anything else shitty…"

"What? How could that be flirting?"

"Well, Aura's terrifying brother calls me Rocky McRockFace and I'm pretty sure that's flirting."

Apollo blinked. He'd met the whole crew from the space center plenty of times, but he'd somehow never managed to be there the same time as Aura Blackquill's brother, who Clay only ever mentioned off-hand… so casually off-hand that Apollo was pretty sure Clay was into the guy.

"That's terrible flirting," Apollo said.

"Yeah, I know, but that's my point, some people flirt in stupid ways. And he's not going to hit on you in front of his brother, probably, but a little teasing won't get him yelled at. Your boss sounds terrifying, by the way."

"He is," Apollo said. Which was weird, because he'd never really seen or heard Mr. Gavin do anything outright scary, but he was always so calm it was eerie, and unlike Klavier, there was nothing warm or friendly about him. A single raised eyebrow from him could make Apollo feel like he'd singlehandedly sunk the entire business somehow. No wonder the office was so silent, it felt like if someone breathed wrong they would get fired.

"So your scary boss calls him in, lectures him, and he does some offhand flirting with you but in a stupid way. I mean not to excuse him, if you say he's a jerk then he's a jerk and I hate him. But it doesn't sound like it was anything too terrible."

Apollo huffed. "Maybe it wasn't. I don't know. It's just messing with my head, I have this whole secret relationship with him but he has no idea. That's weird!"

"It is weird," Clay agreed. "And you could, uh, solve that problem, actually. You could just tell him."

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"Because -- because at this point it's too messed up," Apollo said. "It looks like I was stalking him, even though he was stalking me, like I got hired by his brother on purpose. Or worse, like I was a creepy fan who got hired and, I don't know, somehow stole someone's twitter DMs so I could stalk him because I was the one who put them in contact, even though by 'them' I mean 'him and me' and it's too weird!"

Clay laughed. "Yeah, Clark Kent, it's kind of a shame that Lois loves Superman so much. But look, you can just explain. Yeah, it's kind of awkward, but he's so into you. He'll get over it. And anyway, if he is being a jerk because he thinks of you as just some assistant, when he hears this, maybe it'll show him the error of his ways. And you can do a tell-all video and let him stew."

"Yeah, but that would get me fired, I'm pretty sure."

"Meh, you don't need the job. Oh! You could always go work for what's-his-name, you told me about. The guy with the sandals who broke into the office."

Apollo snorted.

"Okay look," Clay said after a second. "I guess what it comes down to is, do you like him in your DMs? Because if you like that guy, you should be honest and tell him who you are and how you feel. And if you don't like that guy, you can ghost him and he'll never know it was Apollo-the-assistant all along, and just be an occasional pain in the ass at work. I think it's this middle ground that's freaking you out, so you should just pick one."

"Yeah, probably," Apollo said. It would be a lot simpler that way, but… "I dunno. I guess I just don't know how I feel. I like him in my DMs. He's fun. But he's also pushy. Needy, I guess. Like the string of messages I got today, because I wasn't answering him, is a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess I just keep remembering this thing Mr. Gavin said, that he only wants what he can't have, he gets obsessed with people who don't like him."

"Huh," Clay said. "That's interesting, because it sounds like his brother is one of those people. You know? Kind of a dick, so your rockstar just wants his approval."

"Huh."

Clay laughed. "Don't sound so surprised! Aura's girlfriend is a shrink and she and her terrifying brother are always around talking about psych profiles and stuff all the time so they can use them in Aura's robots."

"Aura's brother… who you never call by name but mention all the time," Apollo said.

"Okay, hey, I've gotta run, tell the rockstar who you are, bye," Clay said, and hung up.

Apollo shook his head a little. Clay was a really wonderful guy. Brilliant, insightful, loyal, caring. Apollo loved him more than anyone else in the world. But he was also ridiculous and when he and Aura's brother got together Apollo was going to tease him for months.

Still, there was something to the idea. Maybe he should just tell Klavier the truth, and see what happened. Maybe…

Apollo stared at the messages.

So okay, it turned out he liked the guy in his DMs.

Apollo stared at the message.

He'd kind of known it was coming. And part of him still really felt like he should turn it down, but the honest truth was, he didn't want to. Maybe it was just because he hadn't seen Klavier in real life in a couple of weeks, so he wasn't as annoyed at him, or maybe it was all the… the emotion in what they'd shared.

If Daryan really was drinking too much, Mr. Gavin was keeping it out of the press. No one would know, but Apollo knew, because Klavier trusted him.

And… and he trusted Klavier, too. It wasn't like he'd said much about Khura'in, about his childhood, but even just saying that yeah, he'd lived there and then gone into American foster care was more than he told anyone else. Only Clay really knew what had happened. But he could imagine telling Klavier.

His heart beat a little faster and he read the invite again. He would have to explain everything and it would definitely be weird. But with all this, he was pretty sure that once Klavier got over the shock, it would be fine.

Now he just needed to figure out how he was going to explain.

Klavier watched the end credits of Mikeko's video about ten times. It was a shot of Mikeko-the-cat, lazily batting at a string, but only if her person (still out of camera range) put the string close enough for her to bat at without moving. The Patreon thanks ran over one side of the screen, while Mikeko-the-person read aloud: "And as always, extra thanks to my top-level patrons: Irving the Brave, Jimmy with the Good Hair, Frog, Lottie, and -- I can't believe I'm saying this, but I swear it's true, I verified it -- Klavier Gavin, yes, that Klavier Gavin, who it turns out is actually, like, the nicest guy in the world."

He couldn't help it. Listening to Mikeko say nice things about him just made him smile. Even though Daryan was snoring loudly. He hadn't even gotten to his bunk this time, he'd been drinking on the bus's couch and had passed out.

Klavier sighed, worried. He'd have to call Kris soon, for all the good that would do. Well, maybe his assistant would actually put him through. Or maybe the assistant could help, though he honestly wasn't sure how.

Daryan was still doing his job, after all. Appearing at meet and greets and doing press, though he always had a flask with him, and people laughed and joked about it. Rockstars and their drinking. Even though it wasn't so funny. And he could still play their shows. But if it was a hotel night, he would be out getting wasted after; and if it was a bus night, he'd drink until he passed out right there. Klavier didn't mind having a beer or two with him but Daryan wasn't a beer-or-two kind of guy.

No one else saw the problem, though.

He sighed and played it again. Yes, that Klavier Gavin, who it turns out is actually, like, the nicest guy in the world. It sent a tingle down his spine. He was used to people saying he was the sexiest guy in the world. He was used to people saying he was talented, he was extraordinary, he was all the things a rockstar was supposed to be.

But Mikeko had gotten to know him, and Mikeko thought he was nice. Not in a condescending way, either, how you'd call someone nice if you just didn't know what to say about them. He'd gotten to know Klavier and he liked Klavier and after several weeks of this, amazingly, he was actually ready and willing to meet in person.

Klavier had forced himself to avoid trying to picture Mikeko. How could he even guess? He didn't know if Mikeko would be handsome or ugly, short or tall, fat or skinny. He didn't know and it didn't matter. Mikeko had agreed to meet him, Klavier was going to make it an amazing first date and maybe after that --

Well.

For all Kristoph kept him pigeonholed into his Good Boy of Rock and Roll persona, Klavier was still a rockstar. He was very famous, and yes, he did get laid regularly. Even on this tour, when he'd spent so much time thinking about Mikeko, he'd had people back to his hotel room, or even in the green room before shows. It was all just fun, of course, and he fondly remembered all those encounters, but they hadn't really meant anything.

With Mikeko, it could mean something. It would mean something. He was going to take Mikeko out, and then -- if it didn't feel like rushing, if Mikeko was up for it and not skittish -- bring him home and show him an excellent time. He was certain, considering their connection, it would be good for both of them. It would be the start of something, not a one-off night of fun. Klavier would happily give up his groupies for that.

"Hallo, assistant!" Klavier said cheerfully into the phone. It was mid-day and time to get things in motion. "Is mein bruder available?"

There was a moment's pause, a little awkward, then, "Sorry, he's in a meeting. Also, my name is Apollo."

"Oh, I forgot," Klavier said. "Is he really in a meeting though, or is he just screening me? You can tell me, I know he does it. I don't blame you."

"His calendar's blocked off."

"Ah, damn, well. I'll try him later then. Though wait, perhaps you can help me? He'd probably just ask you to do it anyway."

"Uh, maybe? Help you with what?"

Klavier pouted into the green room mirror. Usually people were eager to help him. Maybe this assistant had picked up from Kristoph that he was to be treated as a minor nuisance. But still, Kristoph did always give in and help him eventually, on his own schedule. Klavier would bring the Daryan thing to him directly, it wasn't for an assistant's ears, but there was one other thing.

"I need dinner reservations for, let's say, this coming Tuesday -- the day after I get back from tour. Ach, I don't know where. Somewhere expensive and cool but also discreet. Something foreign, I think. Are there any Khura'inese restaurants in LA, do you know?"

"I…" A sound like someone gulping. "I don't think so. You might be able to get magatah'mans at a few bakeries, though they probably aren't authentic."

"What are those?" Klavier asked.

"Sweet buns, they're a Khura'inese street food."

"Oh! That is good to know. Do you know somewhere that makes them? And could you order, I don't know, what's a normal amount? A dozen, let's say, for me, for Tuesday?"

"Um, okay, yeah. I can do that. Hey, Klavier, there's something I--"

"But I also need a reservation somewhere cool. Hmm, I think Zeph said there was a french restaurant opening. Wait -- Zeph!" He flagged down the drummer. "What was that place you were excited for? The French place?"

"Tres Bien," Zeph said.

"Tres Bien! Danke." He turned his attention back to the phone. "Tres Bien, he says. Tuesday at eight. If it's booked, use my name, everyone always gives me a reservation."

"Okay. But Klavier, look, I need to tell you --"

"Klav, we're ready for soundcheck!" one of the stage hands called.

"I have to go. Thanks, assistant!"

Satisfied, he hung up and swanned off to get ready for the show.

"Assistant!"

"My name is actually--"

"I don't have much time, almost the end of the tour, things are crazy!" Klavier said, glancing out the limo's window. It was nice to be ferried from one engagement to the next in style, but really, the limo was overkill.

"Yeah, I'm sure things are, but Mr. Gavin is at a client meeting, so he's not--"

"Ja, that's okay, but you deal with my house, right? When I'm not there?"

A long pause, then, "Yes, I guess I do. I'm supposed to go open it up tomorrow."

"Ah ha, see, I remembered! Thank you for that. I was wondering, though, could you drop off those magatah'mans when you're there, and also change the sheets?"

"You… you want me to change your sheets?"

"Ja, well," he couldn't help but laugh a little as he spoke. Three days. Only three days! "I am hoping to have some company over. You know?"

"Uh, okay. But look, Klavier, I really need to talk to you about something. It's important."

"Oh, is it from Kris, the… issue I mentioned to him?" he asked, as the limo pulled up in front of the studio.

"No, it's--"

"Damn, I was hoping… ah, never mind. Thanks, assistant!" He hung up, pocketed his phone, and bounced out to go meet with the crew.

"Haha, it feels like I have been talking to you more often than Kristoph these days," Klavier said to Kristoph's assistant, as he settled into the nice roomy couch for his flight. Perhaps chartering a plane for the band was a little too indulgent, Kristoph would probably scold him about the cost, but they were too famous to fly commercial -- there were just too many people around for that to go well. And now that the last show had concluded, there wasn't really a need for them to stay on the bus as it drove back to LA.

And now that the concert was done, he could really focus on what was important. The big date. Tomorrow!

"Yet you still don't know my name."

"Can you please put me through to him?"

"Sorry, but he's--"

"I know, I know, will you please at least remind him I've been calling? I don't blame you for gatekeeping for him, Herr Assistant. You're very good at your job, I can tell. But I do need to talk to him. As a brother, if not as a client."

"I'll tell him, but while I've got you on the phone, I really need to --"

"Oh! I have a couple more things. Tomorrow morning, can you make an appointment for me at Maraczek's? It's a salon, I'll need to see Andrea specifically and she will always make time for me. I'll need a tanning session and waxing and a massage."

"Okay, but--"

"And I need to pick up a gift! Ahh, I don't know what to get him." He'd been thinking about it for days, he wanted something that was thoughtful but not too intimidatingly enormous, something that would make Mikeko feel that Klavier really listened and understood him. "Do you have a cat? What do cats like?"

"You want to get a present for a cat?"

"For a cat lover, maybe something for his cat, I don't know. Do you have any ideas?"

A hissed intake of breath, a puff of exhale into the phone. It was kind of a gross sound. Klavier wrinkled his nose.

"Let me get this straight. You've got a big date tomorrow, which you had me make reservations for. You wanted to get him some Khura'inese food so you had me research and pick up sweet buns. He's a cat lover so you want me to figure out a gift for his cat and pick it up for you to give to him. And you're planning to take him home and get laid so you want me to schedule you for waxing and make sure you've got clean sheets."

"Well, yes, but you don't understand. He's amazing. I really need to impress him."

"Kind of feels like I'm the one impressing him," the assistant muttered. "And you still don't know my name. Good luck getting laid. You're gonna need it."

He hung up.

Klavier frowned at his phone.

Tres Bien turned out to be a very pink restaurant. Klavier wondered if perhaps Zephyr was pranking him, because it didn't seem all that busy -- but the prices were outrageous, so more likely it was a best-kept-secret type restaurant. But on the plus side, the tables were all isolated by high backed benches and mirrors so at least it was very private.

He sat at his table, practically vibrating with anticipation, and waited.

And waited.

The server gave him a sympathetic look and asked if he wanted a drink. He ordered a cocktail to sip while he waited. Mikeko's awful boss was probably keeping him late at work.

He finished his cocktail.

He waited.

He finally gave in and opened twitter, checked his DMs, but there was nothing new. They'd confirmed the date and time a few days ago, but since then not much. Mikeko had been busy with work, and Klavier with wrapping the tour up and getting ready.

He hesitated, then sent, Just checking - we said 8 right? I hope your boss isn't keeping you so late at work!

He ordered another cocktail, and the server gave him a slight smile. "Do you want an appetizer while you wait?"

"Oh, nein, I'll just wait. He'll be here soon, I'm sure."

He drank, and waited.

Another sympathetic look, another drink. Maybe something horrible had happened. What if Mikeko had been in a car crash? He could be in the hospital and Klavier would never know. Or maybe something else had happened, maybe he was trapped in an elevator, maybe, maybe…

Another drink. How many was that now? It didn't really matter. He was going to be so happy when Mikeko showed up. They'd laugh through this together. He knew Mikeko, he would show up and apologize for keeping Klavier waiting and Klavier would sweep him off his feet.

Apollo resolutely stared at his video and didn't look at twitter. He wasn't going to look at his DMs. He wasn't.

Well, he had, earlier. He'd planned to send a message -- I think it's better if I don't come tonight, I'm sorry, but then Mr. Gavin had needed him to go dig something out of the file room and when he'd gotten back to it, he just didn't care anymore.

Clay had asked him: do you like the guy in your DMs? And the answer had been yes. It really had. He'd thought of Klavier as someone was actually pretty sweet and insecure, despite being a celebrity. He'd thought they'd had a connection.

But the other question had been, did he really hate the guy who talked to him on the phone? And the answer to that was yes, too. The guy who couldn't be bothered to learn his name. Who wasn't even his boss, really, but acted like he was.

And more importantly, who, it turned out, may have been insecure but also couldn't lift a damn finger for himself. Apollo hadn't minded making the reservation. But the rest -- the little touches designed to impress Mikeko, the magatah'mans, the cat toys, the fact that Klavier didn't care enough to handle any of that himself, to even figure out what he should do by himself, that was annoying. And the assumption that he'd be getting lucky, well.

It was obnoxious.

Really, Apollo's double life had served him well. He might have fallen for the guy in his DMs, if he hadn't seen him through an overworked assistant's eyes. But he had, and he couldn't un-see it.

There were a million people out there who'd happily swoon into Klavier Gavin's arms, and his bed. Let him find one of them. He'd probably take someone else home from the restaurant, anyway.

His phone buzzed and he grabbed it, saw the incoming text from Clay.

Clay replied with a link to Klavier's twitter, with a series of obviously drunk tweets. Which weren't meant to be public.

Well, fuck.

Okay, yeah, he should have sent a real cancelation and not just stood Klavier up, but still. Dreading what he'd see, he opened his DMs and --

It hit him square in the gut, seeing that Klavier was worried about him. It was a small thing, but so few people would have. Just Clay, really. Yeah, if he didn't show up to work, Mr. Gavin would probably call him angrily and fire him. Maybe his last foster family would reach out now and then, and be sad if they were stonewalled, but they really weren't close.

I hope you're okay, clearly before his drunken meltdown.

I'll be here until you show up. And the drunk version, Ill wat all nihtt for yo.

He was really going to do it. To sit in a stupid restaurant which didn't even have good reviews, and drink, and wait.

"Fuck," Apollo muttered to himself, and stood up, grabbed his keys, and headed out.

He spent the drive figuring out what he was going to say. A speech, an explanation. He was just going to make Klavier go home and then they could both take a few days to think, figure out how they felt.

He steeled himself.

"Can I get you a table?" the host asked when he arrived at the stupid french restaurant, but Apollo shook his head.

"No, I'm here to collect a drunk rockstar."

"Ah. He's back in the corner." She pointed. "Um, his tab's pretty high at this point."

"Figures," Apollo said, and walked back.

Klavier was slumped in the booth, sniffling a little, a martini glass mostly empty in one hand and his phone in the other.

"Oh god, give me that before you get yourself in trouble," Apollo said, and reached for it. He grabbed the phone out of his hand, opened twitter, and deleted the public tweets, while Klavier stared at him, bewildered. "Look, I'm sorry about--"

"Did Kris send you?" he interrupted, his voice utterly wrecked.

"What?"

"To come rescue his stupid, drunk, idiot little brother," Klavier said. "To stop me from embarrassing myself, but I won't go. I'm waiting, assistant. I am waiting and I'm not going to leave!"

Apollo stared at him. His anger had turned to guilt when he'd seen those messages, but now the pendulum was swinging back. Of course Klavier would assume he was there as Kristoph's assistant. That actually made sense. If Klavier had managed to learn his name, he'd let it all go.

But no, Klavier looked at him and saw an assistant and couldn't be bothered.

Fine.

"Where's your wallet? I hope this cost you a fortune."

"No, no, but I can't leave," Klavier said, clutching his glass. "I can't, he'll show up, he will, he has to."

"He's not going to," Apollo said, and let some of his frustration out. "You are being stood up. He doesn't care that you're here. He doesn't care that you're waiting. Get up."

"No." Klavier gave him a look that was down right sulky. Like he was a child.

Apollo reached for the glass in his hand, pulled it free, then grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked. He let out a slight gasp as Apollo hauled him out of the booth and up, but either he was too drunk to resist or he didn't actually want to. His lip trembled a little.

"Please," Klavier murmured. "What if he does come and I'm not -- I'm not here, what if something happened, he wouldn't just not come. He wouldn't. He wouldn't."

Apollo steeled himself. "Your date was for eight o'clock. It's almost midnight. He's not coming. Give me your damn wallet."

Klavier deflated, but did so. Apollo handed his credit card off, but a moment later the server came back, shaking her head. "Sorry, but, um, the card was declined."

"Are you kidding me?" Apollo muttered. He'd known Klavier's account was in bad shape, but that bad? Mr. Gavin would have to look into it again. He grabbed his own card, glared at Klavier, and said, "You'd better make sure I get paid back for this."

"I don't want to go."

"Too bad." He paid, wincing at the cost -- this place was so overpriced, and a few solid hours of drinking had really added up -- and then tugged Klavier to follow him out. Klavier literally dragged his feet, whining incoherently, stumbling, until they got outside and were walking toward the garage.

"No, I can't go," Klavier said, pulling his hand away. "He could still come. You don't understand. I think I'm in love with him. I can't leave, Herr Assistant, I can't."

Which was when Apollo finally snapped.

He didn't shove Klavier, not really. Just put a hand on his shoulder and pushed Klavier's back up against the wall of the parking garage, and when Klavier tried to move he grabbed his hand and pinned that against the wall, too. Klavier was taller than he was, so he had to look up at him, but even so he snarled, "Kristoph didn't send me. I came because I felt bad for you, but now I don't. And my name is Apollo. Don't fucking forget it."

It hung there between them for a moment, Klavier's eyes wide. For a heartbeat Apollo thought that he'd gone too far -- shoving around his boss's brother, a celebrity, their biggest client.

Then Klavier's eyes darkened a little, and he gave Apollo a weak smile. And Apollo remembered abruptly that Klavier had spent the morning on personal grooming, waxing, planning for someone to see him naked. He pulled away hastily.

"Apollo," Klavier breathed. "I won't forget."

Then he burst into tears.

Klavier woke up, hungover, exhausted, and so fucking gutted. It had been years since he'd felt this shitty. He was sure something horrible was waiting for when he got up, so he thought about just… not. Just laying in bed all day. Not answering his phone or anything. As if that would somehow keep it all from crashing down.

Blurry-eyed and headachey, he reached for his phone. It was on the floor next to his bed, he'd taken off his boots and pulled his wallet and phone free and had collapsed in bed fully dressed. Then he'd woken up, vomited in a trashcan, and fallen back into bed. Ugh.

His phone was lit up with messages. Laughing tweets. Concerned tweets. Had he -- he'd sent messages to Mikeko but he hadn't… he must have… he didn't see anything else, but somehow everyone knew because he also had a grim message from Kristoph, telling him to explain himself.

None of those were what mattered.

He opened his DMs, dreading, and --

No. No. He felt the stupid tears start again and threw his phone down on his mattress.

What had he done wrong? What the hell had he done to deserve this? Yes, Mikeko had always been hesitant but he'd agreed to meet! Things had been quiet for a few days but he hadn't thought anything had changed.

But something must have.

He felt like he was going to vomit again and sat there for a really long time, alone in his big stupid house, hungover and devastated. And he didn't even have anyone to talk to about it. Kris would just roll his eyes. Daryan wouldn't care. The rest of the band would listen sympathetically but laugh when his back was turned, he knew it. And who could blame them?

He was famous. He was rich. He was gorgeous. He knew that.

But he was also pathetic. Desperate. So fucking stupid.

It wasn't just that Mikeko wasn't into his music. Kris was right, he obsessed over things like that because he was desperate and he probably should call his therapist. It was that once they'd made contact, it had felt good. Like a kindred spirit. Like someone who really understood him, which no one did.

And didn't that sound whiny and petulant? That's what Kris would say. Oh, the poor misunderstood rockstar!

But it was true.

People liked him but not because they really knew or cared about him. They were attracted to his pretty face, that was why they'd gotten the record deal and the initial push from their label: he looked the part of the star. Never mind if the music was good or not. He was sexy so people liked him. And their success -- that had made him more valuable, sure, but also further apart from everyone else.

People didn't like him, no, they liked his good looks and money, and didn't give a damn about him as a real person. No one did. Not even Daryan, who used to be his best friend. Not even Kristoph, who was his own brother.

But Mikeko had. He'd been so sure of it. Someone who wasn't impressed by his looks or music but had ended up talking with him, trusting him. Who still didn't want his money, or to use him. And he'd somehow fucked it up.

Finally, even knowing how stupid and pathetic it was, he grabbed his phone again.

He didn't expect an answer because Mikeko was at work with his strict boss, but one popped up after only a few moments.

He started to type a half-dozen replies and then stopped and deleted them each time. He knew what he had to do but he didn't want to, it hurt so much. Finally, he managed:

He made himself close out of the message box after that and just sat in bed and tried not to weep.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he got his act together and stopped procrastinating. He read the gossip and winced, apparently he'd drunk tweeted something about Mikeko in the middle of the night. Someone had screencapped it. It really was pathetic. But it was also gone, which meant that Kristoph's assistant must have deleted it for him.

Kristoph's assistant. Apollo.

He wasn't stupid, he knew Apollo found him irritating. And who could blame him? Kristoph probably worked him like a dog, and here Klavier was, making demands on top of that. Yet they'd all been met. A dozen sweet buns waiting in his fridge, clean sheets on his bed, appointments made.

But the way Apollo had glared at him, had pinned him up against the wall--

Klavier was intense, yes. He got the feeling Apollo was, too.

He made one stop on his way into Kristoph's office for a bracing cup of coffee. Hmm. He picked up a fancy latte, too, and then headed in.

Kristoph, of course, was sitting in his office, with Apollo in a chair next to his desk, taking notes on a laptop, nodding along. Klavier plastered on his brightest smile and waltzed in. He might be a wreck but no one needed to know that, though Kristoph could always tell somehow.

"Ah. It's about time you showed up," Kristoph said, glancing up.

"Ja, ja, you don't need to yell at me, the hangover was punishment enough. Besides, I didn't come to see you."

"No?"

"No." He set the latte down in front of Apollo. "For you, Apollo."

Apollo blinked. Then blinked again. Then laughed, just a tiny bit. "Thanks."

Klavier looked at Kristoph. "I embarrassed myself last night, and your poor overworked assistant saw and came to my rescue, of his own volition. Got me home safe. Kept me from making more of a mess. I don't know what you pay him, but you should give him a raise."

"Perhaps. But then again, perhaps I should not take financial advice from you." Kristoph crossed his arms. "Among other responsibilities Justice has taken on, he's been looking into your account. You are an idiot when it comes to finances."

Fuck. Ouch. But Klavier kept his smile up.

"Ja, probably. Sounds like something else I need to thank Apollo for."

"Instead of thanks, maybe you could reimburse me for the drinks I had to put on my credit card last night," Apollo suggested.

"Of course, ja," Klavier said and grabbed his phone. "I'll just -- let me open my account -- ah ha, here." He handed Apollo his phone, bank app open. "Please transfer what you're owed."

"You don't want to see, like, a receipt?"

"No, I trust you."

Apollo looked up at him, wry. "Maybe you shouldn't trust people so quickly and easily. Might be part of where your money disappears to."

Ouch again. Klavier gave him a rueful smile. "Maybe, but I am who I am, I suppose. I'd rather have my heart on my sleeve than locked away with my money."

"If you say so." He handed his phone back.

"Good. And hopefully this is the end of your catboy nonsense," Kristoph said. "Even you aren't so ridiculous that you'd still cling to this silly fantasy after being stood up. Or does his rejection just make you want him more?"

"Well, I don't want him less, but I'm not a total asshole. He made it clear he doesn't want me, so I won't bother him again." He sighed. "And before you make a snide remark, yes, I will call Dr. Cykes."

"Good." He gestured a little. "Justice, make the appointment for him, or he'll conveniently forget."

"Uh, okay, who--"

"No, that's all right. Apollo has made enough appointments for me. Did you need anything else, Kris, or did you just want to rub in that you were right and I'm a fool?"

"Oh please. You aren't going to make me feel guilty for calling out your bullshit. No one else will, you need me to."

"I guess I do." He tossed his hair out of his eyes. "Did you look into the Daryan thing?"

"I hardly think you should be talking about anyone else's drinking habits after last night, not to mention that scene when you were on tour."

"I don't drink that much," Klavier said. It was true, and probably why he'd been hit so hard by what he'd had the previous night. "And I share a bus with him. I see how much he drinks. Much more than I do, more than anyone else in the band or the crew or -- I am worried. Please, Kristoph."

"You go back on tour in two weeks. Keep an eye on him then," Kristoph said.

Klavier swallowed a whining reply. He would keep an eye on Daryan, of course, and without prompting. He was the only one who was. But Kristoph didn't take him seriously. Really, no one did.

Well, Mikeko had, a thought that made his chest ache a little. But then again, maybe he hadn't taken any of it seriously at all. He was the one who'd bowed out, after all.

"Okay. Thanks. And Apollo," he glanced back at the assistant, who had been sitting quietly, watching the conversation unfold, "thanks again for helping me out last night."

Apollo just nodded a little, and Klavier showed himself out.

Apollo sipped his latte and looked at his DMs. He'd been eaten up with a shitty combination of guilt and anger all day, and even though he usually never checked his phone at work, he'd done it at least a dozen times, waiting to hear from Klavier. He wasn't sure what to expect -- anger? He deserved that, for standing him up. Desperation? Yeah, that kind of seemed like Klavier's thing. And that was what he'd gotten, Klavier pleading with him not to break off contact.

But he hadn't expected the rest of it. The apology for coming on too strong and the agreement to just back down and wait. Klavier had been so intense over the last few weeks, constant messages and flirting, all of it, that Apollo hadn't really expected that. He'd been braced to have to block Klavier entirely.

But no, apparently Klavier was also capable of listening. Who knew?

And--

Well, he hadn't expected the latte. Honestly, he hadn't expected Klavier to actually remember his name. Apparently cursing at him had been effective.

He definitely hadn't expected to be thanked.

Klavier had seemed… okay, Apollo thought. Not great. Obviously tired, and something about his smile had been melancholy. Brittle, was the way to describe it. Which felt strange, compared to the enthusiastic DMs Apollo was used to getting, or the excitable, cheerful voice from the radio and phone. But it was only fair. Klavier had, effectively, been dumped.

Even though they hadn't been dating.

But -- I think I'm in love with him, Klavier had said. Which was ridiculous. Klavier didn't know him. He was in love with an idea, not a person.

Sort of the way most people fell in love with Klavier, come to think about it.

Apollo shook off that thought. It was over now. Klavier was sad, well, that was allowed. But assuming he kept his word and didn't start DMing Apollo again -- DMing Mikeko again, rather -- that was fine. And he'd at least tried to make things right with Apollo-as-actually-Apollo, which was nice too. He'd survive it all -- being roasted online, which was happening as people speculated what those drunk messages had been about; and being lectured by Mr. Gavin.

And that had been painful, too.

Apollo was on his fence about how he really felt about his job. He liked it, in theory. He didn't mind the more assistant-y parts, like handling the schedule or even making appointments for Klavier, when they didn't directly involve him. And he liked going through old contracts, dealing with financial stuff, all of that. He was well suited to it. But…

He didn't like Mr. Gavin.

It would have been one thing if he'd only treated Klavier like that. It would have been kind of shitty, yeah, but maybe siblings were just like that sometimes. But he was that dismissive and snide to everyone, though with most people he hid it behind a veneer of professionalism.

There was more, though. He'd completely ignored Klavier's worry about Daryan.

Apollo tapped on his desk for a moment, finished his latte, and began opening files on the company's server. He was pretty sure he'd run across references to… ah ha. Yes. Mr. Gavin had had a client a few years ago, Max Galactica, who'd crashed pretty spectacularly and ended up in rehab. There was information in a folder on the clinic where he'd done in-patient -- it was discreet, filled with both medical and mental health providers, and tailored for rich people. And they had case workers specifically for celebrity clients.

Apollo jotted down the name and number and opened google, searched for how to talk to a friend about their drinking.

It was a cliche but Klavier half-lay across Dr. Cykes's couch and couldn't quite look at her. "It's all very, very stupid. I feel so stupid."

"What, precisely, do you mean by stupid?" Dr. Cykes asked.

It was a reasonable question, even if it made Klavier squirm a little. It felt like poking at a cut, forcing it to reopen because he couldn't just leave it alone. But still. Dr. Cykes was a good therapist and he'd seen her on and off for years now, and she did help. So he'd answer. It was just hard.

"It feels like… well, you know, Kris always makes fun of me for wanting what I can't have. And why not? I have so much. It's selfish and silly to want more. But this critic, he disliked my music so much, and I just wanted him to… to like me."

"To like you? Or to like your music?"

"Ach, why do you always listen so closely?" he groaned. "To like me."

"So you felt like because he didn't like your music, he didn't like you as a person?"

"Ja, well, that's often how it goes." Klavier wanted to shrink away from it, but it was true. "My public image is very… it's specific, and it's tied up in the music, too. So people assume what they see, what they hear, is what I am, so when they don't like it…"

"But it's not what you are, is it? Or at least, not all of it."

"That's true, the image is very careful. I have to stay golden, like Kris always says. So it's not me, but people think it is, and… and when they hate my music…"

"We've talked a lot about that through the years," Dr. Cykes said, her voice kind.

It was true. It had been much harder back when the band had first gotten big. Klavier had taken every negative review personally, taken every dumb shock-jock DJ's jokes to heart. His persona, back then, had been like a shield. Kris had shaped it for them, insisted on the law-and-order theme to the point where it was more of a shtick than anything else. Most people had responded positively -- obviously, given how popular they were. But they'd also always had haters, too, and being able to remind himself that those people hated his image, not him as a person, had helped.

"I don't know when it changed," Klavier said, but it ached inside him. "It used to be a relief. Oh, they don't hate me, they hate the golden boy image. But now I almost wish -- it does still feel like they hate me when they hate all that, but the people who like that, they don't like me. They don't know me, no one knows me, no one cares enough to even realize they don't know me."

"Your band knows you," she pointed out. "Your brother does."

"Ja, but." He sniffled, wiped at his eyes. "We aren't that close anymore. Me and the band. I mean, Daryan, maybe, but I get the feeling he hates the golden boy too. Resents him. Me. And Kris is Kris."

They'd talked about Kristoph endlessly in these sessions, too. So often that it was a little embarrassing. But Kris was the most important person in his life. His brother, his manager. He was cold by nature, and a little nurture too, Klavier could admit -- their parents weren't close to them, either, had spent most of their time busy with their own passions and careers. And considering his childhood had been spent yelling Kris, look at me! while Kristoph barely acknowledged him, it wasn't like it was a secret where his need to be liked came from.

But at least Kristoph knew him, the real him, better than anyone else. That was something.

"So you wanted this critic to like you -- the real you," Dr. Cykes said, pulling them back to the topic at hand. "And you got very focused on your exchanges with him."

"Ja, I was too intense. He said as much, I'm not making an assumption," Klavier said. "I did get too focused. I really… I respect him, as a critic. He's so smart. Watching his videos, I always had this feeling, we would get along. I felt like I knew him, even before I contacted him."

"Hmm. Sounds like how people feel about you," Dr. Cykes said.

Klavier's face heated a little. She wasn't wrong. And he knew how weird it was to be the center of someone's obsession. He'd handled it by putting on his persona, Mikeko handled it by staying anonymous.

"I wanted to break past his wall so badly," Klavier said. "And we did connect. We did. Something in it was real, I know that, I just fucked it up somehow. I finally had a real connection and I fucked it up. What is wrong with me? It's all I want -- someone who knows me -- and I fucked it up!"

Dr. Cykes paused, took a long breath. That meant she was going to reality check him. He knew it. He needed it, but he hated it. Knowing that what he felt was nowhere near what had really happened, somehow, it just made him feel like even more of a ridiculous drama queen, like Kris always called him.

"You said he told you it was too intense," Dr. Cykes said, her words sounding so precise. "Did he tell you that before or after the date?"

"After."

"Did he tell you anything like that before?"

Klavier shook his head. "I went back through our conversations a thousand times. He told me he wanted privacy, so I didn't ask his name or anything. I did ask him out once and he said no, but the second time -- we'd shared a lot more by then. And I told him it was okay to say no. I told him!"

"So then how could you have known?" Dr. Cykes asked, like it was a reasonable question. "It was too intense for him, but he never told you, you only ever spoke with him in texts, so there was no tone to read, no body language. How could you have known?"

"I -- I don't know. I should have, though. We were so connected, I thought, I should have been able to tell." He sniffled again. He was going to cry, again.

"That word -- 'should' -- that's an awfully interesting word. Who says you should have known?"

Klavier corrected himself. "I wish I'd known. I wish it had gone different, that we'd… that we'd… I really liked him, is all. Ahh, I should have listened to everyone who told me it was silly. Kris rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his head. I was on the phone but I could hear it."

"How did you feel when he did that?"

"The same as I always do. Embarrassed. He thinks I'm ridiculous. In this case he was right. Kris is always right."

"You've said that in a lot of our sessions, did you know? Exactly that phrase. Kris is right."

"Well, he usually is, in the end."

"Is he?" She gave him the gentle smile that meant she was trying to prod him into realizing something. "He's your big brother, his opinion means a lot to you. You really take it to heart. But families don't always see each other clearly."

"I don't think anything is unclear. He knows what I'm like. Too intense, impulsive, I don't think things through. If it wasn't for him, who knows where I'd be?"

"It's true he's helped you manage a lot of things in your career," Dr. Cykes said, tapping her pen against her notes. "But at the same time -- he helped you craft that persona you talk about. It was his idea, wasn't it? To shape the way everyone sees you?"

"Ja, it was smart of him."

She didn't disagree, but she didn't nod, either, like she usually did when he said something accurate about himself. Instead, she said, "Well, what if he sees you as a persona, too?"

"He knows that that's not me, though -- the golden boy. He knows all of my flaws."

"I don't mean he sees you in the same way your fans do, I mean, more like… well, he looks at you as your big brother, and your manager. Those are very specific lenses… that usually come with a sense of knowing more, knowing best. What if he's only seeing things where he does know more, but not seeing the places where you do?"

"What could I possibly know more about than Kris?"

"About your own feelings." She gave him a gentle smile. "He knows you well but he's not in your head."

"It feels like he is."

"All right, let me rephrase -- he knows you well enough to make assumptions about what you think and feel, but those assumptions aren't always right, even if it feels like they are. He thinks you only wanted to befriend this critic because he didn't like you, but the truth was, you felt like you two could have a connection, based on the videos you'd seen. And you were right, to some extent. You did have a very intense connection for a few weeks."

"Ja, and then I blew it."

"Maybe. But I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You went all-out because it meant a lot to you, and that's not a bad thing -- especially considering he didn't tell you how it made him feel, so you couldn't know. That was the source of the problem, not some inherent thing that you wanted, that your brother claimed you wanted. But your brother made an assumption, and when it didn't work out, you both decided that he'd been right all along."

Klavier frowned a little. It had been true, he thought, that he'd wanted Mikeko's approval because he wanted what he couldn't have. He wanted everyone to like him, which was an impossible goal, he and Dr. Cykes had talked about that many times. But he had, after all these years, stopped worrying so much about critics and reviews. Yet he'd cared a lot about Mikeko.

So maybe it hadn't only been because Mikeko hadn't liked him. Maybe it was about Mikeko as a person. Or -- who Klavier perceived Mikeko to be, anyway. That was very different from what Kristoph had sighed at him, about only wanting people who didn't like him.

Maybe Kristoph wasn't always right. It just felt like he was. But feelings weren't always accurate, as Dr. Cykes had explained to him many times. He groaned a little, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I can not believe I pay you so much money just to end up with a confusion headache. Maybe I didn't do anything wrong with Mikeko but I feel like I did. And maybe Kris isn't always right but it feels like he is."

"What we feel isn't always what's true," she said. "A good starting point might be to remind yourself of that sometimes. But, unfortunately, that will also have to be the stopping point for us this week."

"Ah, time already." He sighed, and stood up. "Danke, Dr. Cykes. As always, it's a lot to think about. But I appreciate it."

His phone rang as he was on his way out, the display reading Assistant. His stomach dropped. What had he done now, that Kristoph was going to yell at him about?

Still a little shaken from his session, he answered. "Hallo, ah--pollo."

"You were going to call me 'assistant' again, weren't you?"

"Ja, but you hate that, and I know your name. I should update it in my phone."

"Yeah, that would be nice. But uh, listen." He was speaking softly. "Mr. Gavin went out to meet Valant Gramarye, so I kind of… looked into something for you."

"Hmm?"

"You said something earlier about Daryan and I don't know the background, but I'm not stupid, you think he's got a drinking problem."

"I… I am probably exaggerating, making something out of nothing. I always do that." That was what Kristoph would say, anyway. "I don't know. Kris doesn't think it's a problem."

"Okay, well… I hope it's not. But if it is, I mean, I just want you to know, I looked it up, and we do have some contacts at a high-end rehab. Mr. Gavin's had at least one client check in there before. So there are people we can call, if it becomes necessary."

"That is really good to know," Klavier said, then, "I hope it isn't needed, too. I hope it's nothing. But I appreciate that you checked on that for me."

"No problem. It just seemed like something that should be taken pretty seriously, I guess."

Klavier gave a flat laugh. "No one ever takes me seriously. So thanks. You have a good evening, okay? Don't work too late."

That got him a chuckle. "I always work late, but sure."

He hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket as he headed for his hog. He felt a little lighter, though, knowing there were options out there if he was right about Daryan. And he hoped he wasn't. He'd love to be wrong.

But he didn't think he was.

By the weekend, Klavier was still feeling a little miserable and sorry for himself, which was such a silly thing. Yes, his feelings had been hurt by Mikeko ghosting him. But he was still a rockstar. He'd had a successful first leg of his tour, his album had gone platinum, he really had no reason to complain about anything. He hated the idea of becoming the kind of entitled celebrity who threw a tantrum when one silly thing didn't go his way, so even though he was thoroughly bummed, he made himself smile and decided to go treat himself.

It was not exactly easy to do in a low-key way, was the problem. He didn't want to deal with lots of people, or being fawned on in that way that made him feel even more isolated inside. Basically, if he stayed holed up inside he'd feel lonely but if he did something public he'd feel lonely, too. He just wanted to wander around, have a nice time. Window shop. Maybe get some ice cream.

His best compromise, then, was to dress down and hope he'd be overlooked. He dug out an old baseball cap, pulling it on backwards to hide his hair, and a pair of cheap sunglasses, not the expensive designer ones people would expect from him. A denim jacket over a t-shirt, no flashy jewelry, nothing too obvious.

It wasn't really a disguise. But it wasn't a signal that he was out to be noticed, either. Hopefully he'd just fade into the background.

He took himself to a nice shopping area, a little touristy but not as well known, and wandered. He gazed in the windows of jewelry stores and boutiques, looking at beautiful handmade trinkets; he saw some lovely art shops and thought about what Kris might like. Kris was very particular about his art, he had relationships with so many galleries and artists, but Klavier had a pretty good sense of his taste and art made for such good gifts.

What finally drew his eye was a tiny record shop. It was packed with vinyl and CDs, lots of them used, with band fliers in the window. It was exactly the kind of place he'd always loved, and he could remember being 17 and putting Gavinners fliers up on boards and windows just like this. It had been a rush, a feeling that the band was real and going somewhere.

He stepped into the store with a delighted feeling of nostalgia. He truly felt at home in a shop like this, surrounded by music. Every album was fascinating, every display drew his attention. He could get lost in it.

He wandered around, taking it all in, stopping to look through areas of interest. One that caught his eye was a series of flags with corresponding albums from across the world. Lots of good international stuff. Almost without thinking, he found himself looking for Khura'inese imports.

For one thing, there weren't many. Just a dusty old CD, which he examined. It looked like some kind of superhero album. He wondered if Mikeko would know what it was and stopped short, the CD in his hand. He was trying not to think too much about Mikeko but suddenly remembering him stung, and yet Klavier couldn't bring himself to put the CD back, either. Maybe Mikeko would reach out to him.

He sighed. What he needed was a distraction. Something or someone who could take his mind off Mikeko. Too bad that, for all his wealth and fame, he couldn't just snap his fingers and have someone appear out of thin air, someone smart and funny the way Mikeko was, someone who knew him and he could really connect with and care about. If wishes were fishes…

He turned down the next aisle.

Standing there, a look of utter concentration on his face as he examined an old vinyl album, was Kristoph's ferocious assistant, Apollo, who found him so annoying, but also showed up to help him. Who took him seriously, even though Kristoph didn't. It was a weekend so he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of his ugly suit. Outside of the office, he looked so normal... cute, even.

Klavier didn't really believe in signs from the universe, but as he watched Apollo, he thought, maybe he was right, and a distraction was exactly what he needed.

Apollo wasn't expecting it when he ran across a stupid meme on the internet and his first thought was I should send that to Klavier. It was someone shouting "ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!" at a crowd and someone in the crowd answering "actually, I'd rather take a nap." His first thought was to DM with just the text "us" but--

He couldn't.

Because Klavier had promised to give him space, and Apollo wanted that space. He was sure if he sent a message like that, Klavier would take it as an opening to start messaging him again, and Apollo knew that was a bad idea. And maybe, yeah, he missed having messages when he woke up in the morning or checked in during the day, but… this was better.

It was.

The rest of the week passed pretty normally. Apollo felt a little melancholy, which he didn't poke at too much. Everything with Klavier had been weird, the ending had been pretty awful, it was best to just leave it be.

Work kept him busy enough that by the weekend he felt behind on his video stuff, but he also had errands to run. He got through them in the morning, but before heading home decided to indulge a little and stop at his favorite music store. Mostly he did digital media, like everyone seemed to, but there was something alluring about physical media, too. He liked to pore through stacks of vinyl, especially older stuff. It really made it all feel like it had the weight of history. Plus, he'd gotten plenty of video ideas wandering through the store.

It was tiny and cramped, giant bins on each shelf, haphazardly organized when it was organized at all. The only people Apollo had ever seen inside were pretentious weirdos -- not like he had any grounds to stand on to judge them -- and not many at that. He wondered sometimes if the owner was independently wealthy, to be able to keep it open, but he was glad it was still there.

He'd been picking up records to examine for half an hour, mulling over some thoughts about classic girl groups for one of his musical history deep dives, when he caught the sound of throat clearing. He looked up, embarrassed, ready to flatten himself against a wall to let someone walk past in the tiny space, but--

It was Klavier, wearing an ugly hat that did very little to hide his identity, holding a CD jewel case in his hand.

"Um, hi," Apollo said, which felt stupid. He was always um-ing around Klavier, despite everything. Not that Klavier knew everything. Or even a little of it. But it was so much easier to sound cool and collected in text.

"Hallo! I'm glad to see Kris lets you out of the office now and then, that you don't have to work on weekends."

"But I do still have to deal with you, apparently," Apollo said.

"Ouch, I'm wounded," Klavier said, a hand going to his heart, the picture of melodrama. But he was still smiling. "What are you looking at?"

Apollo shifted over, showing him the Shirelles greatest hits he'd been looking at, and the Chiffons and the Ronettes next to it on the shelf. Klavier reached for the Ronettes album.

"Why was I thinking about them recently? Ah!" He snapped the fingers of his free hand. "I was watching a video about Phil Spector, it mentioned them, yes. It was really interesting."

"Oh," Apollo said, trying to keep his face steady and not betray the seven different emotions he was feeling about Klavier mentioning his video. "Cool."

"So you're into girl groups?"

"I'm into most music," Apollo said. "But they kind of just caught my eye today."

"Ah, I know how that goes." He set the record back down. "Sometimes I have no idea at all what I'm in the mood for and then I'll see something -- an album I hadn't thought about in years, or even a picture or I'll hear a sound and -- bam! You know, inspiration strikes and I have to listen to it right now."

"Yeah, something like that." Apollo shrugged a little. "I'm not a musician, though, I bet it's a lot more intense for you. Thinking about music all the time."

"Oh, maybe." He tossed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't know what I'm in the mood for today. World music, maybe. I wanted to see if they have any Khura'inese imports, but all they have is this…"

He handed over a used CD from another section of the store, with Khura'inese characters and a slightly awkward English translation. Apollo didn't need the translation, though -- not that he remembered a ton of Khura'inese, but he recognized the figure on the CD jacket.

"The Plumed Punisher OST?"

"Ja, I have no idea what it is, though."

"A kid's show," Apollo said. They hadn't had a TV back on the mountain, but there had been popular books and comics, all spun off. He'd done a double-take when he'd first seen Steel Samurai reruns, as a teen. He'd looked it all up then and discovered the character he knew was a rip-off, but he'd been able to find some fan-subtitled episodes on Youtube. "It's basically the Steel Samurai, but with a little Khura'inese backstory. But not much in the way of traditional music, sorry to say."

"Oh, too bad." Klavier cocked his head. "And you know that off the top of your head?"

"I, um." Crap. There just weren't many Khura'inese immigrants in California. He didn't think Klavier would be able to guess about his secret identity, but even so. He shrugged. "I was into Steel Samurai stuff when I was younger."

"Ah," Klavier said. "Well, maybe I'll pick this up anyway. Though you tell me, having looked at my finances, can I afford it?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. Your bank account is a mess."

"Well, I'll give it a try." He winked at Apollo, then headed for the register. Apollo went back to browsing but ultimately didn't end up buying anything -- he did have an old record player, but not a ton of room, so anything he bought actual physical copies of he had to absolutely love. But Klavier was still up at the front of the store, chatting with the cashier, when he finished up.

"--actually, I tried to learn some Borginian, but it kept tripping me up," Klavier was saying. "And my pronunciation was very bad."

The clerk laughed, and it was clearly the kind of flirty, swoony laugh that most people gave Klavier. "Well, her show is tomorrow evening. The venue is pretty small, kind of under the radar, but, uh, maybe I'll see you there."

"Ja, maybe. Oh, Apollo!" He waved again. "I was just asking about world music, have you heard of the singer Lamiroir?"

"The landscape painter in sound? Yeah," Apollo said. One of his Patreon followers had mentioned her and he'd ended up looking her up. Her voice was beautiful -- haunting, even. Not something he'd listen to all the time, but absolutely striking for the kind of mood she was trying to create.

"I seem to be the only one who hasn't!" Klavier said. "I hate to be behind the times. Apparently she's performing tomorrow evening!"

"Oh, cool," Apollo said.

"Do you want to come?" Klavier grinned at him.

"What?" Apollo tried not to stare. But why would Klavier invite him somewhere? Unless he knew. But he couldn't know, if he did he'd be pissed, wouldn't he? Or maybe he was still into Mikeko and had figured it out and was trying to get close to him this way instead?

"You seem to have pretty wide musical taste, I thought you might be interested," Klavier said. "And I still owe you for all the help last week. Let me treat you, this time you can drink and I'll drive."

"You don't owe me anything," Apollo said. "I was just doing my job."

"Ah." Klavier looked a little disappointed. "Well, that's fair. And I wouldn't want to impose, you spent enough time on me last week already."

"No, it's not an imposition, it's just…" It was just that Apollo wasn't sure he could spend time with Klavier without letting it slip about his identity, which he'd nearly done once already. Plus, he really had intended to spend the whole weekend focused on his video stuff, holed up alone in his apartment.

"You don't need to make an excuse," Klavier said.

For some reason that was what did it. Maybe because it sounded so much like the DMs he'd sent, when Apollo had ended their conversation. Not looking for excuses or explanations or anything, and promising to give him space when he got shot down -- and then actually doing it. Apollo wondered if he'd been lonely, too, and was sure he was. Maybe that was why he was reaching out to someone he barely knew, and why he'd gone from hopeful and smiling to sad but accepting.

The guilt Apollo still had twisted inside him. Klavier barely knew him, but looked so bummed. He'd adored Mikeko, though, and the sudden ending there -- being stood up and effectively dumped -- that had to hurt so much worse.

And Apollo did miss him.

"I was going to say, I just can't stay out too late, I have to be at the office early on Monday," Apollo said. "But what the hell, why not?"

Klavier beamed at him, grabbed his phone. "Here, put your address in my contacts. I'll pick you up at seven."

Apollo did, and added, "Also, I'm putting my actual name in your phone, finally."

Klavier accepted it back, glanced at it, smiled. "Apollo Justice. Ah, that's why Kristoph always calls you that. It makes more sense than… I don't even know what I thought." He laughed a little, pushing his hair out of his face again. "Well, I will see you tomorrow night, Apollo Justice."

He finally picked his bag up from the counter and headed out, waving over his shoulder. Apollo watched him as he headed out the door, then sighed. That had probably been a stupid move, but he definitely didn't regret it.

Klavier gave Apollo a call from his car, waiting outside, and a minute later Apollo came scrambling out to see him. Klavier smiled a little. Apollo was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt, with a messenger bag over his shoulder, his hair sticking up oddly in front, but it was very cute. Especially compared to the very loud suit he always wore in the office.

Klavier waved. He'd thought about bringing his hog, getting Apollo to ride behind him, arms wrapped around him, but that seemed a little too much. Klavier was trying not to be too much.

But he was trying… he was trying something. He didn't really know. It was just that Apollo had been so irritated with him and hadn't been shy about letting him know, even though he'd also showed up to help Klavier on that very bad night.

Of course, there had been the moment Apollo had pushed him. Pinned him, right to the rough cement wall, almost body to body, and had snapped at him. He'd wanted Klavier to remember his name, well, Klavier was never going to forget that moment. Something inside him had sparked.

He should probably talk to Dr. Cykes about it, but he actually had a pretty good guess himself about what had happened. The thing was, he was used to people liking him, swooning for him, hanging on his every word and gesture. But it always seemed so hollow. They loved the golden boy, not him. But there was the reverse, too, people who hated the golden boy, who ranted and raved about how he was single-handedly destroying the entire concept of music or whatever and should be dragged into the street and shot. That was equally hollow. No one cared about the real Klavier, only what they thought he stood for.

But Apollo knew him. Not well. But they'd interacted enough that Apollo's seeming dislike of him was based on Klavier's own actions, his real actions, which Klavier was fairly ashamed of. That moment, pinning Klavier to the wall and forcing him to listen, had been genuine. Real anger, about who he really was.

But it had also happened on a night when Apollo, irritated with him, had still shown up to help him. Kristoph hadn't sent him, he'd just seen what had happened and despite his own anger he was kind enough to show up.

And maybe, well, maybe Klavier just liked being manhandled a little. The people who he hooked up with almost never did that, they all seemed more in awe of him, wanting him to take the lead. Which was fine, really, sex was fun and he had no complaints. But he wouldn't exactly have minded if someone wanted to hold him down for a change, take what they wanted from him.

But only if it was the right person. Someone who wanted it from him, not as a celebrity, not because of how he looked, but because they knew him and liked him and wanted him.

He flushed thinking about it. Running into Apollo in the record store had felt like serendipity, though, a sign from the universe that something could happen there.

It was too much to put on Apollo, and he wasn't going to make the mistake he had with Mikeko. He wasn't going to be too intense.

"Hey," Apollo said, as he slid into the car. "You look… cool." He shut his eyes and almost flinched, then opened them and continued, "I mean good. You look good. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Klavier said, trying not to laugh.

"Is this a date?"

"I, uh." Well, there went all of Klavier's supposed cool. He was tempted to say no, but -- he was going to be honest. "I kind of thought so, yeah. But if you don't want that, no worries."

"I don't know what I want." Apollo tapped his fingers against the inside of the door.

"Ah. Well, that's okay." Klavier gave him a quick smile. "That's what first dates are for, you know? If we have a good time, maybe at the end you'll kiss me on the cheek and I'll giggle and ask you if you want to go out again. But if we don't, we'll just laugh awkwardly next time I'm in Kristoph's office and pretend it never happened."

"Do you always go out with Mr. Gavin's assistants?"

"Nein," Klavier said. "But he does usually hire people who don't like me much, and I am a sucker for that. My shrink and I are working on it, I promise."

Apollo laughed. His laugh was a little too loud and awkward. Klavier loved it.

"So! Since first dates are for smalltalk, getting to know each other, tell me something about you, Apollo Justice," Klavier said, after a long minute.

Apollo made a sound that was almost a squeak. "Me? Oh, I'm… I'm not that interesting."

"No? Okay, how about… do you have any siblings?"

Apollo grimaced. "It's complicated. I mean, yes. But we're not in touch. I'm not close with my family."

"Ah, that's… too bad? I'm not sure if it is, since I don't know the situation," Klavier said. "I hope it's something you're okay with."

Apollo shrugged. "What about you? I know Mr. Gavin, but your parents?"

"Ah, my father is a lawyer and my mother is a violinist, we bounced back and forth between countries when I was growing up. We aren't close, either, but it's not like we're estranged. Just all very busy with our own lives."

"You and Mr. Gavin aren't close?"

"Well, we see each other more often." Klavier gave a slight shrug, hands still on the wheel. "And he's my big brother. He looks out for me. I don't know where I'd be without him, he did so much work to launch the Gavinners."

Apollo nodded a little. "It paid off, too. I mean, of course he helped because he's your brother, he believed in you, but it did work out for him in the end."

"Ja, it really did. He's a brilliant man. Probably a little difficult to work with, but I hope you like your job."

"I do. I'm learning a lot from him," Apollo said, though it sounded a little like he was trying to convince himself. "I even like the paperwork stuff. All the filing. The contracts are so interesting."

"Ah, you're a nerd." Klavier shot him a smile. "That's cute."

He got a scowl in return.

The venue turned out to be fairly tiny, a bar with a handful of tables and a small stage at the back. The walls were covered in faded posters from bands who'd performed. Klavier gestured to the bar and Apollo took one of the stools, examined the menu, and gave Klavier a slightly sheepish look. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"What do you like? Beer, wine, cocktails?"

"I dunno. I usually get a beer. Whatever my friend is getting, he cares way more about that stuff than I do. My best friend, Clay, we hang out a lot."

Klavier nodded. "Well, I'd be happy to order for us, if you wouldn't find that too presumptuous. Or too much of a cliche -- your German friend having such strong opinions about beer."

Apollo laughed. "Go ahead. I'll try whatever."

Klavier ordered for them, and the bartender did a double take upon recognizing him. Klavier smiled through it and waved off the attempt to give them free drinks -- he was happy to pay, despite whatever oddities were happening with his bank account. Once they had their drinks they claimed one of the tables and chatted while they waited.

Lamiroir came out not too much longer, accompanied by a child with a keyboard. She thanked the crowd for coming, her voice heavily accented, and then began to sing.

It was transcendent.

Klavier was a vocalist himself, with enough training to spot both a fellow professional who'd honed their skills and to tell when someone simply had natural talent. Lamiroir was both. She was singing in Borginian but that didn't matter; the emotion of the song came through and nearly moved Klavier to tears. It was a tragedy, whatever it was about. He could feel the loss with every note.

Three songs in he found himself holding Apollo's hand under the table. "I must collaborate with her. I have to. Will you forgive me, after the set, if I try to charm my way backstage?"

"Do you really think she'd be interested in the kind of music the Gavinners make?"

He shot Apollo a quick pout. "Why would she not be? It's not our usual sound but we can be flexible. And I would write something just for her, just for that voice."

"Oh," Apollo said quickly. "Yeah, of course, I didn't mean… That would be really cool."

Klavier squeezed his hand.

Sure enough, after the set, Klavier hauled Apollo with him up to the stage, slipped around the back. The bar's manager grinned at seeing him and motioned him onward. The whole place was tiny so the backstage area was really just one room for the performers, everything else was stock or business related.

Lamiroir and her keyboard player were in that one room and apparently they recognized Klavier because they began talking quickly in Borginian, occasionally trying to translate to say hello to him. He shook both of their hands, introduced Apollo, who waved awkwardly, and they tried to talk mostly through miming. It took a little while but he soon had her manager's contact information, and an agreement that they should definitely play together.

He was walking on air as he led the way out, back to the car. Apollo was grinning, too, and when Klavier realized he'd been babbling about song ideas and went quiet, Apollo just said, "It's nice to hear you talk like that. So enthusiastic."

Klavier felt his cheeks warm and had to look away. "I get very enthusiastic. I think it scares people away sometimes, when I get intense."

"I guess, maybe," Apollo said. "I... Klavier, I..."

"You?" Klavier prompted, after a moment.

Apollo just shook his head. "Nothing."

"No?" He waited. "Well, that's okay, if you're mysterious. It's very attractive."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, that's me, mysterious and aloof."

"Well, you don't like to talk about yourself. I have tried to pry information from you all evening -- and it's okay if you don't tell me!" Klavier assured him hastily. "But all I know is you aren't close to your family, you like pretty much any kind of music, you have a friend."

"I guess I'm just a very private person," Apollo said. "But you also know I work for your brother, I'm interested in the entertainment industry, I'm good at keeping up with things."

"Ja, that's true. Did you go to college?"

"Yes, and law school -- Ivy U."

"Law school! Ahh, I used to want to be a lawyer, like my dad," Klavier said. "He's a prosecutor back in Germany, I was actually studying for entrance exams back when I was a teen, but I couldn't balance it all. I had to choose, music or the law, so I chose music."

"Seems like it was a good choice," Apollo said, as they started driving back toward his apartment.

"Ja, I am very happy with how things turned out, of course. I do always have a little… what if, I suppose."

"I think everyone does that. I wonder sometimes, what if…"

"If…?"

Apollo shook his head. "Family stuff."

"Ah. You are being mysterious again," Klavier said, but it came out a little wistful. It would be nice if Apollo was more open with him. As it was, he couldn't really tell if Apollo was holding back because that was who he was, shy about sharing himself, or if it was because he didn't trust Klavier.

"I don't mean to," Apollo said, apologetic.

"It's okay. I had a friend who told me, recently, he doesn't like attention -- it was such a shock to me, that some people feel like that. I am such an open book," Klavier said, and laughed a little at himself. "Heart on my sleeve, is how my mother put it. But I don't blame anyone for not doing that."

"When your heart's on your sleeve, it's easy for someone to hurt it," Apollo said. "To take advantage of you."

"Ja, but like I said in the office, I'd rather that than to be miserly with it."

"I think that's really admirable. I hope you don't get hurt. I don't want to hurt you."

Klavier's breath caught. "I will take that as a good sign for this date, then."

Apollo laughed softly. "I had a nice time. I wish I were better at… dating and all. I know I'm kind of prickly."

"I like your prickles." He took one hand off the wheel so he could flick some of Apollo's ridiculous hair. "They're cute."

When they reached Apollo's apartment, Apollo turned to look at him. "So this is the part where I kiss your cheek and you giggle?"

"Ja, I have been looking forward to it."

Apollo unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned in, and kissed Klavier's cheek. Klavier grinned, not quite a giggle, but delighted.

Then Apollo put a hand on his cheek to turn him around and kissed him on the lips. And oh. Klavier opened his mouth to it, let Apollo nudge him to make the angle better, practically melted from the warmth of Apollo's mouth and hand.

Apollo pulled away, his face bright red, looking completely joyful.

"Call me," Apollo said.

"I will. Maybe, ah, maybe I will come by the office this week, see if I can get Kris to let you go free for an hour and take you to lunch? If you'd like?"

"I would," Apollo said. "I'd actually really like that."

"Okay," Klavier said, and had to bite his lip to keep from giggling the way he'd joked about.

"Okay." Apollo gave him one last big grin and got out of the car.

Klavier pumped his fist as he drove away.

"Clay, I did something really stupid."

"And yet, you sound excited! What's up?"

Apollo threw himself down on his bed, phone still clenched in his hand. His cheeks were still flaming red, and he could swear he could still taste Klavier -- beer and breath mint. The scent of Klavier's expensive cologne, the tickle of Klavier's hair against his cheek. The way Klavier had been so pliant and eager.

"I went on a date. A really, really good date, actually."

"Good! So what's so stupid about that?"

"It, uh. It was with Klavier."

"So you're over being pissed at him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I really am. But, uh. I still haven't mentioned to him that I'm Mikeko."

"Polly." Clay's voice was somewhere between laughing and disapproval. "You have to tell him. If you like him so much, if the date went so well, it'll be fine, you'll both have a good laugh. But you have to tell him."

"I know! And it kept almost coming out. I couldn't talk about anything because he already knew so much about Mikeko, but when I tried I froze up, and I just…"

"Just?"

"I just worry I'll look unhinged, and what if… I mean, standing him up really hurt him. And he's a really sensitive guy. What if he can't get over that and now I've hurt him again? I really, really don't want to hurt him."

"You're not going to be able to protect him by ignoring this," Clay said, which was, of course, true, and why Apollo had said it was a stupid idea.

"I know," Apollo said. "I know. But I don't know how."

"Next time you see him, just spit it out. Rip the bandaid off. You've got to."

"Yeah. Okay, I will. I'll just tell him. It'll be fine."

"It will," Clay said, and then, half-laughing, "You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

Apollo grinned. Those had been the magic words since they were in middle school. "Thanks."

"That's what best friends are for. And after you tell him… you'd better dish, is all I'm saying."

"Good night, Clay." He hung up, still laughing to himself. Clay was right. He'd just spit out, he and Klavier would have a good laugh about it, and it would be fine. And after he'd confessed…

Well. He felt himself flush again, remembering that kiss. Yeah, after he confessed, they were going to have a very good time indeed.

"Justice."

Apollo looked up abruptly from the email he'd been typing. Mr. Gavin had opened the door to his office and had his arms crossed. He jerked his head toward his desk and walked in, so Apollo scrambled up and followed. Mr. Gavin sat at his desk but swiveled his monitor around.

"Explain."

Apollo's face turned red as he saw the picture. It was on twitter, and apparently being picked up by gossip sites: a photo of him and Klavier at the show, sitting close to each other as they watched Lamiroir perform, Apollo's head on Klavier's shoulder and Klavier's arm around him.

"Oh, um. We. Um."

"You, um?" Mr. Gavin did not sound impressed.

"We ran into each other and he asked if I wanted to go out, and, well. It was just this tiny show," Apollo said, not sure what he was supposed to be explaining. Mr. Gavin sounded almost angry but Apollo wasn't really sure why. They hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't even like the pictures of Klavier that had to be censored, they were really innocent.

"I did not hire you so you could galavant around with a celebrity," Mr. Gavin said, voice tight. "I asked you specifically in your interview. You were not interested in him."

"It wasn't like that," Apollo said, trying to keep his voice steady. Mr. Gavin had asked, though, and Klavier had even joked about it. Mr. Gavin only hired people who didn't like him. "We weren't -- I didn't know him, I'd never have even guessed he'd -- it really just kind of happened!"

Mr. Gavin gave an irritated exhale. "You must understand why I'm leery of this. I hire a seemingly motivated young assistant, who within weeks is trying to win the affection of my famous brother? He has enough people trying to use him already. I won't allow my office to become a source of gold diggers or star collectors -- I won't do that to him."

"I'm not," Apollo said. "We didn't -- we -- it was just a show."

"And you turning up when he was desperate a few nights ago was just a coincidence?"

For an eerie, horrible moment, Apollo thought he knew. He'd figured out about the Mikeko account, and was accusing Apollo of using it to manipulate Klavier. Of making him vulnerable and hurt, so he could come play a hero. But that wasn't how it had happened at all, Apollo hadn't planned it, he'd just seen those sad drunk tweets and…

That was all Mr. Gavin meant. He'd been looking at Klavier's twitter and had shown up to be a hero. Okay. Whew.

But still.

"A friend texted me, when he tweeted," Apollo explained. "He knows I know him through work and I saw what was happening, I'd made the reservation so I knew where he'd be, so I figured it would be good, to make sure he got home safe. It wasn't… I wasn't even thinking… He didn't even know my name at that point."

"But he was oh-so-grateful."

Apollo gave a tiny shrug. There was no right answer to that.

"Let me be clear, Justice. Klavier is a delicate young man. As his business manager, I see that he's taken care of professionally, and as his brother -- well. I see that he's taken care of, period." His voice was as cold as Apollo had ever heard it. "You've put yourself in this position, and here are the consequences: if things go south between you and him, I will take his side. When he gets tired of you, it will likely cost you your job. If it's not too late, you may wish to disentangle yourself from him, knowing that. But if he's become invested and you make that choice, well."

Well.

Klavier had said that Mr. Gavin made a habit of hiring assistants who specifically didn't like him, and now Apollo knew why. He nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Get back to work, then. And don't let this relationship," he sneered it, full of disdain, "distract you, either."

"I won't." Apollo scurried out of the office and back to his desk, his heart racing.

He hadn't realized it would be a problem. Why would it? Mr. Gavin hadn't seemed to care about Klavier's weird semi-relationship with Mikeko -- frankly, he didn't usually seem to even care all that much about Klavier in general, as if his brother was a burden and not a client. Or a family member. But apparently that read had been totally wrong and he did care, which was good for Klavier's sake, but for Apollo's…

How was Apollo supposed to confess now?

It might still be fine. If Klavier really did just laugh it off, if he understood why Apollo had been angry enough to stand him up and then regretful enough to give him a chance, then things would be fine. But if he didn't understand, then it would feel like a betrayal, and that meant Apollo would lose his job.

For that matter, if things didn't work out between them, if Klavier was unhappy or got bored or realized that Apollo was just Apollo, no one all that special, then Apollo would lose his job. If they fought. If they broke each other's hearts. Apollo would pay for that with his career.

Which wasn't fair. And it was too much pressure to put on a relationship that could barely be called a relationship at all. They'd been on one date but if anything happened other than a bunch more happy dates, and then, what, love and marriage? Apollo would be screwed.

He smacked a hand against his forehead and tried to calm himself down. It was silly to freak out over this. His date with Klavier had been good. They'd both had fun. And at the end of the day, it wasn't like he needed this job. He wanted it, yes, but he could support himself on just the video work for a few months.

Though planning his career around a relationship that had, so far, consisted of exactly one date and a few weeks of messaging each other, which Klavier didn't even know was him, was crazy. He wasn't going to give up his job for a relationship that had barely started. But he also didn't want to give up the relationship for a job he only sometimes liked, and it wasn't entirely his choice, either. If he bowed out and Klavier was unhappy about it…

Gah.

He forced himself back to work. If he was already risking getting fired for dating Klavier, he wasn't going to make it riskier by having Mr. Gavin glance out and see him sitting there in a stupor.

Klavier texted him Tuesday morning, as he was arriving at the office.

He hesitated, then, I'd like to if my schedule lets up a little, Mr. Gavin is keeping me very busy.

Apollo smiled despite himself. He thought about explaining that he'd be in trouble, but it was just too weird. One more too-weird thing for this pile. Shit.

Apollo swallowed a little as he walked into the office. Maybe it really had been an innocent comment and clarification, but he kind of doubted it. Like when Klavier had sent him the photo of his ass in leather, fishing for compliments. He wondered, since Klavier couldn't enlist him to come change the sheets and get things ready, if he'd do it himself. If he was really thinking about Apollo coming over and what they might get up to.

Now Apollo was going to think about it too. All day.

He'd have to come clean, first. He'd tell Klavier everything, which honestly would make it feel less like they'd only been on one date and more like they'd been involved for weeks. And then, assuming Klavier didn't freak out or that Apollo could calm him down, then…

It had been a pretty good kiss, the rushed moment in the car. More than that, it had potential. Klavier had all but melted against him, and Apollo wanted that again. He remembered the way Klavier's eyes had gone dark when he'd been shoved against the wall and he thought, maybe they could do that again in a more fun context. Maybe he could push Klavier down on his bed instead, the giant decadent bed Apollo had already changed the sheets on once. Maybe he could pin Klavier's wrists down to the mattress and straddle him, make him whimper and want.

We'll see where the evening takes us, Apollo sent back, then, feeling very silly and indulgent, he added a winking emoji.

The morning passed quickly, filled with his usual fairly dull tasks. Making and answering calls, filing papers, fetching coffee. Mr. Gavin had him dig out and copy a handful of contracts, which was at least a little interesting. It even included the contracts between the Gavinners and KG Entertainment -- there were multiple, since it was such a complex business structure. There was paperwork for each member of the band, including Klavier, and then the band as an entity.

He glanced over them again as he made copies. He'd noticed before that they were extensive but that was even more obvious now when he had pages and pages and pages to copy.

In the afternoon, Mr. Gavin had a couple of meetings and Apollo returned to the monumental task of trying to untangle Klavier's finances. He had access to all of his accounts now, which felt weird and intimate, and he could see money coming in, money going out. He didn't try to focus too much on the out part, though; he had no idea what most of the purchases were. It was the coming in part that gnawed at him.

Finally, he pulled up some documents from the accountants who worked for Mr. Gavin, saw all the numbers in neat little rows.

Then he pulled out the contract he'd copied earlier, and began to compare and contrast until his eyes went a little blurry from staring at it all and he had a horrible, sinking, heavy feeling. He had to be wrong. He had to be.

But he already knew, in his heart, that he wasn't.

As it neared the end of the day, Apollo braced himself and knocked on Mr. Gavin's office door. Mr. Gavin looked annoyed at the interruption, but crossed his arms and demanded, "Yes, what is it?"

"I, uh. I was looking at Klavier's financial stuff." He cleared his throat. "I think I might be missing some documents."

"Then go find them. Why are you bothering me, Justice?"

"Because I don't know if they exist. I don't know what to look for. Because what I'm seeing now is -- it looks like -- it looks like a lot of the money Klavier is owed just isn't there."

"Because he spent it."

"No, I mean, it was never there. It looks like, well. Like it came into the firm and… and never made it to his accounts at all." He finally looked up, met Mr. Gavin's gaze. "So I'm sure I'm missing something or there's a mistake, because the way it is now, it looks like… like you have a lot of money that should be Klavier's. So you tell me, what should I be looking for to show that's not happening?"

For one split second, Mr. Gavin looked shocked. Then his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line, grim. "Are you accusing me of something?"

It wasn't a denial. Apollo had hoped for a denial. An explanation. Anything but to be stonewalled.

God damn it.

He squared his shoulders. "Well, the contracts are all pretty shady. You're definitely taking advantage of him. But you tell me, where is his money going? Because that's the difference between using your brother and actually committing a crime."

"My brother came to me with a demo track and a dream, and I turned him into the biggest rockstar in the world," Mr. Gavin said. "You think that's taking advantage? I created him. I earned my share of his success."

"Yeah, but you helped yourself to a lot more than that, didn't you?"

"You have been working here for a matter of weeks. You have no idea what you're talking about. I will not stand here and explain myself to some peon who only took the job to gain access to my brother's life."

"I didn't --"

He stopped himself. Of course it looked that way. It would look even worse when word got out about his alter-ego. But that didn't matter anymore, because the more Kristoph Gavin glared at him, the more sure he was that he was right. Mr. Gavin really had used his brother, locked him into some horrifying deals so he didn't get any direct profit from what he created, and stole from him on top of that. His own brother.

He regrouped. "I'm going to tell him."

That got him a scoff. "Do you think he'll listen to you? You're nothing to him. A cute distraction between legs of his tour, a fun Friday night fuck. I am his family. And you -- you are fired. Collect your things and get out."

Fired.

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Why did Mr. Gavin care so much if Apollo dated Klavier? Because he'd already started Apollo working on the financials and contracts. He probably hadn't really thought Apollo would put all these pieces together, and even if he had, he'd expected Apollo to be loyal to him, to not know or care that much about Klavier. But when Apollo had turned out to like Klavier, that had been a problem. So he'd made his threats.

And now, well, here they were. Apollo had dug in, seen what he'd seen, and knew the truth. So he was fired.

"He'll listen," Apollo said.

And Klavier would.

He had to.

He arrived at Klavier's house with his heart pounding. He had to tell Klavier. It wasn't that he didn't care that he'd gotten fired -- that was going to hurt when he calmed down, but he did have a backup income. He'd get through it.

But Klavier was owed, at his roughest estimate, millions of dollars. He thought about the foreclosure notice -- he thought he'd purchased the house outright, but he'd probably let his brother handle it, and he hadn't. There were the declined credit cards, too. Klavier joked about it, about being bad with money, but the truth was he was broke because he was being robbed.

By his own brother.

At least the revelation about that would probably way overshadow the news about Apollo being Mikeko. That looked downright silly by comparison. And Apollo was going to tell. He was going to spit out the whole truth, all of it. What he'd seen in those contracts -- Klavier had signed them, yeah, but had he actually read them? Had a lawyer read them? About the missing payments. And about himself.

It was a lot. But Klavier deserved to know the truth, and who was telling it to him.

He'd texted Klavier as he'd left the office, so he'd barely rung the bell before Klavier's door opened. He didn't let Apollo in, though. And he wasn't smiling. Instead, he stepped outside and tugged the door shut behind him.

"Klavier, we have to talk," Apollo started. He barely recognized his own voice, it sounded so wild and worried. "Your brother is--"

"Nein, we do not have to talk. I have nothing to say to you."

"Wh-what?"

"Kristoph called me. He told me what you've been doing. I -- I trusted you!"

"What did he tell you?" Apollo said, heavy dread dropping into his stomach. Of course Mr. Gavin had called, of course he'd said something. Lied. Because if Klavier realized what he'd been up to it would all come crashing down. And Apollo had given him a warning. Shit.

"You were using him. Using this job. To get close to me. That's why you showed up that night, nien? To play the hero. To make me like you."

"What? No!" Apollo shook his head. "No, you have no idea what really happened that night. I wasn't trying to make you like me, you already--"

Already liked me, you just didn't know it, he was trying to say, but Klavier cut him off.

"Did you know I frequent that store? Is that why you were already so informed about Khura'inese imports?" His eyes, usually so bright and expressive, were narrow. Glaring. "And I'm a fool. So desperate, like Kris always says. An easy mark."

"That is not what happened! He's stealing from you! The foreclosure notices, the credit card problems -- it's Kristoph, he's--"

"Stop!" Klavier clenched his hands into fists. "Kristoph is my brother, he watches out for me, always. He protects me from people who would use me. People like you. I may be a fool but I would never believe you over him."

He said it like Apollo was nothing to him. A fun Friday night fuck, like Mr. Gavin had said. Or just an assistant. No one he cared about enough to listen to.

He hadn't even put Apollo's real name into his phone. Apollo had done that himself.

Fine.

"Then you are a fool. You were right, by the way. He does screen your calls." Apollo swallowed the rest of the truth. What was he supposed to say? You should trust me, because we spent weeks DMing each other, but you didn't know it? That would have the opposite effect. Klavier would think he was an even bigger liar.

"Get out of here."

Apollo gave him one last long look, and one last try. "He's the liar. He's using you. He's stealing from you. Look at your contracts and your bank accounts. You'll see I'm right."

"Go."

He went. Shaking a little, he made his way back to his car and sank down in the seat. He glanced back up the driveway, saw the door shut, a curtain inside flicker. Klavier was watching to make sure he left.

He would. But first he grabbed his phone and called Clay.

"Yo Polly, what's up? Freaking out before the big date?"

"No date." His voice broke. "And also I got fired. Sorry, I know you're at training, but--"

"I'll meet you at my place. Be there in thirty minutes."

"Thanks, Clay."

Still trembling, trying not to tear up, confused and anxious and angry all at once, he started the car and left the last month of his life behind him.

"Why -- why do I always do this?" Klavier asked, blurry eyed, drunk. The VIP lounge was too loud for real conversation but he didn't need real conversation anyway. He needed another drink, and even as he raised his hand to gesture to the server she was already on her way, another giant, sparkling cocktail on her tray. He didn't know what he was drinking but it was purple -- just for you, she'd said, and winked at him -- and it was good and he was wasted.

Which was good.

"Fuck him," Daryan said, and gestured at the server for a round of shots. Another round of shots. Klavier wasn't sure how many they'd done already but this was good. Daryan was his best friend, had known him for years, and always knew how to have a good time. Klavier shouldn't have worried so much about him, just because he didn't party so much himself, that didn't mean that Daryan was really excessive. He was just exaggerating, like Kris always said. Kris was always right.

"Ja, fuck him!" He slurped his purple concoction while more little glasses were placed in front of them. "He's a liar and an asshole and -- and not even that cute."

"Then what was the big attraction?"

Klavier knocked back the shot Daryan had placed in his hand, then, "He was -- he likes good music. Und he was… ferocious."

"Found yer weak spot," Daryan said. "Anyone who wants to push you around. And music. Like your fucking catboy."

"Ja." Klavier giggled. "Ja. The catboy was mean and he liked good music. I never even met him and I loved him!"

"That's so fucking stupid," Daryan said, but he was laughing. "You're a fucking moron, golden boy."

"I am! I am -- I am so drunk." He dissolved into laughter. The night was a blur after that, drinking and dancing and sloppily making out with someone in the bathroom and his head spinning, staggering out a back exit. Someone had called a cab for him which was nice and he all but collapsed on Daryan's side as Daryan gave the driver his address.

He remembered -- barely -- slurring a question to Daryan, asking where his cab was, but he didn't remember the answer. He barfed on his front lawn on the way in and passed out on the couch in the living room.

His phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. His mouth was dry and tasted disgusting and his head was pounding. Why wouldn't the damn phone go quiet? He ignored it and kept his eyes shut, even though his body ached and his neck was at an uncomfortable angle.

Then -- pounding, close by, a clatter, and a shout.

"God damn it, Klavier, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Groggy, confused, he opened his eyes. Kristoph was there, and he was pissed.

"Was?" Klavier muttered. "It's too early for shouting."

"Get up." Kristoph actually reached down and grabbed his hair, yanked until he opened his eyes. "Get in the shower, get ready for cameras. No one's outside but they'll be at the hospital."

"Hospital?" He sat up, stomach churning from the motion. "What happened? Who?"

"Daryan. After your night on the town, he ran off the road and his car flipped."

"What? Is he -- is he --"

"Alive, obviously, or we wouldn't be preparing for you to be seen at the hospital. Two broken ribs, a smashed knee, lacerations, concussion. He's detoxing at the hospital and once he's deemed safe he'll be discharged to a rehab facility."

Rehab. Klavier scrambled up but only to the trash can and hurled, what little he had left in his stomach coming out. Of course rehab. He'd asked Kristoph about it a couple weeks ago, but it was Apollo who had looked into it, and -- Klavier had been so fucking irresponsible, enabling, wanting to go out for a good time because he'd had a bad day --

Daryan was in the hospital. Because of him.

Kristoph's features contorted in disgust. "Go shower."

Klavier went.

There were photographers at the hospital, just as Kris had predicted. Daryan wasn't as famous as Klavier, but he was close; the bad boy to Klavier's golden boy, was how he liked to describe it. The whole reason Klavier's little public escapade had been laughed off after some good press at the animal shelter was because everyone blamed Daryan. That hadn't been fair but Daryan thought it was hilarious.

But somehow Klavier suspected the photographers were looking for him and that made him sick to his stomach again. He'd only had coffee and a nutrition bar but he felt on the brink of being sick. Again.

But he knew the publicity drill well enough. Sunglasses on, head held high, completely ignoring the assholes who shouted his name and rude questions. He was here to see his friend, his best friend, and nothing else mattered.

Daryan had been put into a more private area of the hospital, thankfully, and Kristoph led the way in. Klavier felt like a jerk keeping his sunglasses on but the fluorescent lights were too bright. Kristoph walked right into Daryan's room, since no doctors were in it at the moment, and Klavier gasped.

Daryan's face was covered in bruises and bandaids. His infamous pompadour had long gone limp and had been pulled out of his face, hanging down in stringy locks of hair. This wasn't an ICU, he wasn't hooked to any machines, but he looked like a ragdoll, limp and sagging in the hospital bed.

He opened his eyes, saw Klavier and Kristoph. He lifted his hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back, but his whole arm was trembling. "Fuck."

"Indeed. Is the shaky hand detox or a different problem since I was briefed?"

"Detox." His voice sounded wrecked. "Gonna get worse. Unless you brought me a flask."

The last was to Klavier, and there was a hint of a smirk on Daryan's scraped-up face, but Klavier blanched. "This is not something to joke about! You could have died. Why did you drive, you fucking idiot?"

Daryan didn't answer that.

Kristoph did, though. "Because his decision making skills were deeply impaired."

"Yeah." His hand was back in his hair, as if seeking his usual style. "Fuck me. You told me not to."

"Of course I did!" Klavier made his way to Daryan's bedside and grabbed that hand. "I should not have -- should not have gone out with you, we shouldn't --"

"Can it, golden boy." Daryan squeezed his hand though.

"Indeed. This is not about you, Klavier. I only brought you here for this conversation because the press, of course, will want to see that you visited him. On the way out you'll say that you support him getting the help he needs, please respect his privacy, whatever." He gestured it away. "As for you, Crescend. You're fired."

"Excuse me?" Daryan's voice may have been raw but the emotion that seized it was not.

"The band resumes touring in a week, and you are in no state for that. Obviously."

"Ja, but after he finishes his rehab program--" Klavier started, but Kristoph cut him off.

"Absolutely not. I will not have a black mark on the band's reputation. I am willing to buy you out," he met Daryan's glower, "but if you fight me on this, you will fail, and I will see that you get nothing."

"Fuck you!" Daryan snarled. "It's my fucking band too, we started it together, you've got no fucking right!"

"Actually, per the contract you signed, I have every right. I don't want this to be public or messy, I don't want it in the press, but I absolutely have ownership over the band's lineup."

"I co-wrote the whole first album. I own the rights--"

"You own nothing. The rights were signed over to me, long ago." Kristoph crossed his arms.

"Kris, don't be ridiculous," Klavier tried, but he knew that expression. Kristoph's mind was made up, and he was more stubborn than a mule when he got like that. "It is Daryan's band too, his and mine. Ja, he needs rehab, and touring might not be good for him for awhile even after. But out of the band, no. When he's healthy again--"

"Klavier, enough." Kristoph sighed. "Last night, your so-called best friend got you completely wasted and didn't have the good sense not to get behind the wheel. What if you'd been in that car? It could be you in this hospital and I will not stand aside and let you suffer."

"Pretty fucking convenient, you get all brotherly when it saves you money. You don't give a damn otherwise," Daryan snapped. "You're a snake."

"I look out for my brother's best interests. Always. Especially when he is too foolish to do so himself. And you, Daryan Crescend, are not going to drag him down with you. I will not allow it. We will settle, but so help me, if you drag this into court or the public eye--"

"Kristoph, no," Klavier said. "He's my best friend. You can not -- I won't let you."

"Oh, you silly, stupid boy," Kristoph said. "Go cry to Mama if you must, but spare me. I am ruthless so you don't have to be. Your so-called friend is the one who's been using you, riding your coattails to fame with no talent or creativity of his own. Getting rich off your hard work. And now -- willing to crash and burn and drag you down with him. I will not allow that."

Klavier shook his head. That wasn't true. He knew that wasn't true. Daryan had been his best friend since they were in school together, they'd written songs together, started the band together. Daryan wouldn't do that to him.

But there had been times, so many times, when Daryan had been so openly, obviously jealous. He'd always accused Klavier of hogging the spotlight, which Klavier didn't, he was so careful not to. The Gavinners name had been tongue in cheek, less cheesy than Crescendos, but Daryan had never gotten over it. He'd bitched, through the years.

But even so, they were friends above all else. None of that mattered. He couldn't let this happen.

But -- Kristoph did always look out for him. It was Kristoph who'd made them a success, as much as either he or Daryan had. Kristoph's business sense, his savvy. If he thought there was a problem…

It was like the shitty way things had happened with Apollo. Klavier liked to see the best in people. He didn't always see problems, but Kristoph saw everything. He was always right.

But still.

"Kris, don't be rash," Klavier said. "He needs treatment. Rehab. We'll figure it out after that, okay? After the tour and all. Please."

"My mind won't change," Kristoph said. "But we can wait. It'll play better that way, anyway, him deciding to bow out of an unhealthy lifestyle rather than you ditching a friend."

"I am not ditching my friend."

"We'll see." He gave Daryan a long look, his expression grim. "Now come along, Klavier, you have to make that statement."

Klavier frowned. "It's not about the press."

"It's always about the press," Kristoph said.

"Motherfucker," Daryan muttered. "Just -- just go. But, fuck, Klav, just…"

Kristoph was already stepping out of the room, but Klavier hesitated. "What?"

"Don't you think it's funny, the most famous rockstar in the world doesn't have any friends? ‘Cept me, and I'm getting fired. You used to, y'know. What happened to them?"

Klavier frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't. Whatever. I don't give a shit anyway. Just don't say I didn't tell you. He's a snake. Now get the fuck out, my head hurts too much for this."

Daryan pointedly looked away from him, rolling almost onto his side. Klavier hesitated, then sighed and trudged out. His head hurt, too, and Daryan was almost as stubborn as Kristoph sometimes.

Now he just had to face the gauntlet of reporters.

Apollo stared at his computer monitor. HIs eyes felt a little bleary, but then again, he was exhausted. He and Clay had stayed up drinking for awhile -- not too much, Clay had training today, Apollo was the one who was unemployed. But when he'd finally called it a night he'd mostly just laid there, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

Klavier was a jerk. That was a big one. Like when he'd thought of an assistant as beneath him, not worthy of having his name remembered, but had used him to plan a big date. He'd ignored Apollo, dismissed him entirely, hadn't even listened when Apollo was trying to help him.

But then again, he was being manipulated. And lied to. And used. He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve that.

No, what he'd deserved was to be stood up for that date. Apollo didn't feel bad about it any more, he only wished that the whole record store thing hadn't happened. He should have gone with his gut. Ghosted Klavier, barely put up with him at work, and avoided thinking about him outside of that.

Of course, none of that would change the fact that Klavier was being robbed by his own brother.

He groaned and leaned back in his desk chair, shut his eyes.

There was no objectively right thing to do here. He'd tried. He'd seen what Mr. Gavin was up to and had tried to warn Klavier. That was all he could do, right? He couldn't force Klavier to believe him. He'd done the right thing and it had cost him not just a potential relationship but his actual job.

He groaned, opened his eyes, and pulled up his resume. It hadn't been all that long since Mr. Gavin had hired him, so it was still up to date… well, aside from his stint at KG Entertainment, but he was pretty sure he should just leave that off. It had only been a couple of months, and he had no proof of what had happened or explanation for why he'd been fired. So it was back to sending out cover letters and stretching his video money to cover his living expenses in the meantime.

Which meant he should work on a video.

He had a few in progress but the most recently opened file was his script about Khura'inese music and that had been at least a little bit for Klavier. Now… now he just didn't want to poke at that anymore. Even though it had been a cool idea and he'd been excited for it.

Really, he didn't want to work on any of his videos.

Ugh. Fine. He got up and moved to his apartment's tiny kitchen. He hadn't washed his breakfast dishes yet and that was as good a chore as any to get started with. He slapped on his radio, since he needed to listen to what was popular to get ready for upcoming videos, and got to it.

He was washing suds out of his coffee cup when the DJ said, "Well, we found out a little more about the Gavinners situation. It seems that guitarist Daryan Crescend was in a pretty bad accident last night, but he's not in critical condition -- but he is badly injured enough that he'll miss the rest of the Guilty Love tour. So sorry to anyone who has him as their favorite Gavinner!"

Another DJ chimed in with, "Is there anyone who likes him best? It's all Klavier Gavin's band, really, do you even know the rest of the band members' names?"

"Haha, now that you mention it, I'm not sure I do…"

They droned on but Apollo had stopped short, soapy mug still in one hand. He dropped it back into the sink, grabbed the dish towel and dried his hands even as he made his way back to his desk to pull up the news.

And yes, there it was. Paparazzi photos of Klavier and Mr. Gavin leaving a hospital, Klavier pausing to speak briefly. To confirm that Daryan would recover fully but not be re-joining the tour, that he hoped everyone would respect his privacy. He ignored shouts about whether or not it was a DUI, about rehab. But that was the rumor.

Shit. He'd been worried about Daryan's drinking and now this. If only Mr. Gavin had taken him seriously…

But of course, Mr. Gavin didn't seem to care about anyone but himself. And now Daryan was in the hospital and Apollo was certain that Klavier would feel like shit about it. Before he could even think about it he'd pulled up their old twitter DMs, now silent for a week or more, and started to type.

He stopped.

Yeah, Klavier probably felt bad. But what was Apollo supposed to do? He couldn't contact Klavier even as Mikeko because it would undo all the ghosting and then he'd have to explain who he was. Though maybe -- maybe Klavier would take his warning seriously then.

But probably not.

He deleted what he'd typed and closed the window. Maybe some tiny piece of him still wanted to help, but he wasn't part of this any more. There was nothing he could do.

Resolute, finally, he opened his editing software back up.

Klavier felt a little weird about it, but he, Vance, Zephyr, and Kevin were hanging out in Kristoph's office suite, while new guitarists auditioned. Kristoph had found them and brought them in, and was uninterested beyond the screening he'd already done, so it was up to the band to decide who they wanted.

They were all excellent, of course. But so far none had seemed to have much personality. Maybe that was for the best, since it was a limited time gig -- Daryan would be coming back, Klavier would insist.

Klavier liked all of the guitarists fine, and so did the rest of the band. He thanked them all, promised to jam with them sometime, and that was that. He sighed and sank down on one of Kristoph's pretentious couches, under one of Kristoph's even more pretentious paintings.

"Well, what do you think? Who was the best?"

"Dunno," Kevin said. "Kind of up to you, or Kristoph."

Klavier frowned. "Why would it be up to Kristoph?"

The three of them exchanged looks. "Well, I mean…" Vance started and kind of shrugged. "He's the business manager."

"Ja, but this is about the concerts, the music. It's a creative decision." But Kristoph had said earlier, he had every right to shuffle the band's lineup. And maybe that was in a contract somewhere. So what? Kris wasn't a musician. "What he thinks doesn't matter."

This time, it was Zephyr. "If it doesn't, then it's kinda weird that he's the one who brought everyone in for us to pick from. For you to pick from."

"And what does that mean?"

He sighed. "It's your band, okay? Just pick someone."

Klavier wanted to object, to remind them that it was their band, too. They were all equals in it.

But… he was the frontman. It was his name. He wrote the overwhelming majority of their music. He was the star -- the golden boy. He hadn't meant to be, Kristoph had really pushed him there, it had been so long he didn't really consider what it looked like to other people, what the rest of the band felt about it.

And… it had been him and Daryan at first, but they'd needed a wider range of instruments. It had been years ago, so he didn't think much of it, but Kristoph had brought them people to choose from then, too. He'd called it making introductions, not putting together an audition list, but still. Essentially, Kristoph had hired these three. They weren't good friends like Daryan was, though they worked and traveled together so much. They were friends, yeah. But…

It was weird, was all.

"Well, if you don't care I can't make you care," Klavier said finally. "But your opinions matter to me. They always do. You know that, don't you?"

"Sure," Vance said, and he got mumbled agreements from Zeph and Kevin, too. But it was obvious they didn't think that.

He thought of Apollo, suddenly, frantically telling him that Kristoph was manipulating him. Daryan, warning that Kristoph was a snake. Even Dr. Cykes, reminding him that Kristoph didn't actually know everything.

But Daryan and Apollo both were just being petty. And Dr. Cykes didn't know everything, either.

A day passed. Another. Apollo poked at his videos but he just didn't feel very creative or engaged. He moped around his apartment in his pajamas and mostly just laid around on his couch with Mikeko, simultaneously caught between excusing himself -- he'd been fired, it was unfair, he deserved to take a few days to mope -- and berating himself -- his resume wasn't going to send itself anywhere, and yeah, his Youtube channel could pay his bills but only if he actually worked on his videos.

But none of that mattered too much because his real struggle was trying not to look at the news. Trying, and failing.

So he'd seen footage of Klavier leaving the hospital, looking sick and scared as he begged reporters to respect Daryan's privacy. He'd seen the gossip about which rehab facility Daryan would be in and who would replace him on the tour, and then the news clip of Klavier emphasizing, "We can't wait for Daryan to be able to re-join us, when he is healthy enough to do so -- and if that's not this tour, there will be another. It wouldn't be the Gavinners without him."

It was a nice sentiment. Having Klavier's loyalty probably felt pretty good. Apollo sure wouldn't know.

He tried to tune it all out, but failed, because like freaking everything the Gavinners did it was all over the internet. He couldn't avoid it, even when he was just trying to catch up with other news. Not that he followed too much news, but still. As a teen he'd watched Court TV pretty much endlessly, and that was pretty good, mindless, comforting in its dullness. And even though it was interspersed with news, none of it was about the entertainment industry.

So yeah, he laid around and bothered Mikeko and watched Court TV.

Which was where he saw the news update that an art forger had been busted -- someone who'd apparently faked hundreds of paintings, all the more intriguing because some of the real paintings had been stolen and the black market flooded with copies, so no one knew which were real and which weren't. The guy behind it all was a quiet, mild-mannered artist whose career had never gotten off the ground, named Drew Misham.

The name sounded vaguely familiar. Apollo googled him, but the only results he got were news stories about his arrest. No one else had ever heard of him. Apollo couldn't think of a single reason why he'd have known the name.

Not until the middle of the night, laying in bed restless but not sleeping, his mind going over everything that had happened with Mr. Gavin for about the thousandth time. Then, suddenly, it hit him. His first week on the job, when the Gramarye stuff had blown up, Mr. Gavin had told Apollo to dig out Drew Misham's contact information.

What the hell had he wanted it for?

And the paintings -- he looked at the list of known forgeries and he recognized a few of them. Paintings Mr. Gavin had had copies of. Or maybe he'd had the originals and someone else had the copies. But definitely plenty of art that Apollo had seen in his office.

Why would Mr. Gavin know an art forger? What was some of that art doing on his office walls?

Apollo couldn't think of a single explanation, but he had a suspicion someone else would be able to. It was too late at night to make any calls, but even so, he googled Phoenix Wright.

The Wright Agency Anything's office was a little… homey, was the nicest way Apollo could think to describe it. Especially compared to the grandeur of Mr. Gavin's suite, it was small and snug and cozy and it looked as much like a living room as an office, cluttered with personal belongings from Mr. Wright and his daughter, the magician whose repertoire of tricks had been in dispute for so long.

Mr. Wright himself was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, which definitely wouldn't have met Mr. Gavin's standards. But Apollo kind of wondered if that was the point. The two had been business partners years ago, but were clearly very different people.

He sat on a couch that looked like it had been brought in from someone's curb and Mr. Wright handed him a bottle of water and sat down across from him. "So what brings you here? Looking for an agent?"

"Uh, no," Apollo said. "Nothing like that. Maybe… maybe nothing in general, but… well." He paused to organize his thoughts. "For about a month I worked for Kristoph Gavin, as his assistant."

Mr. Wright raised his eyebrows. "I notice the past tense in that statement."

"Yeah. I got fired."

"And you're looking for a job?"

"No -- no," Apollo said quickly. "Nothing like that. It's just, I got fired for looking too hard into some of his bank accounts. I'm pretty sure he's stealing from his brother, in the order of millions of dollars."

"Damn," Mr. Wright said. "I wish I could say I didn't believe that, but knowing him as well as I do…"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't have any proof. But there was one other thing, which was why I wanted to talk to you. And it really might be nothing. But when all the Gramarye stuff started coming up, I spent the better part of a week looking through old files, copying documents, scheduling meetings with lawyers, all that kind of thing. And… you know how a forger was just arrested? Drew Misham?"

"Yeah. The art world's in a tizzy." He sounded pretty amused.

"I'll bet. Well. Mr. Gavin had at least one meeting with Drew Misham a couple of weeks ago. I don't know what it was about, but I do know it was private -- not in the office -- and Misham wasn't a client or anything, so… I don't know. But it seems pretty strange to me. And Mr. Gavin has copies of a bunch of the paintings Misham forged."

Nothing about Mr. Wright's posture changed, or even his expression, really. Apollo couldn't put his finger on what was suddenly different, but something about him sharpened. He still had a lazy affect as he gestured around, but Apollo was certain there were wheels turning in his mind.

"Kristoph has secret meetings with a forger. That explains a lot, actually. Damn."

"I don't have any proof," Apollo said again. "But I know that he did. I mean, it could have been about anything, but…"

"Oh, I have some guesses about what it was about." He sat up. "Let's see what we can do about the proof. Hang on." He slid a phone out of his hoodie's pocket. It was ancient and worn, he had to press actual physical buttons on it to dial, and then someone must have answered because he started talking. "Hey, Chief. Is your, uh, 'it's-complicated-we're-not-defining-anything' friend still working at the precinct?"

A muffled, tin voice came out, but Apollo couldn't understand the words. It sounded affirmative, though.

"Great. So I hear they've got an art forger in custody, and I have a bit of a tip. Something to shake the trees on, you know?"

Another response.

"It's Gavin. See if she'll ask the forger about Kristoph Gavin. I've got reason to think they're in cahoots, yeah. And I'm really curious to see what he's got to say. Especially if what he says can lead to, you know, search warrants."

The person on the other end said something, and Mr. Wright laughed.

"Thanks, Chief. I owe you." He put the phone down and looked back at Apollo. "It's no guarantee. But my mentor -- my boss from back when I used to want to be a lawyer, can you believe?" He laughed a little. "She'll go turn over some stones. Because the thing is, everything that went down between me and Kris… Well. It all hinged on the Gramarye performance rights. There was no will when Magnifi kicked the bucket, so we were scrambling to see what we could turn up. Friends and family he'd talked to, old papers, notebooks, letters, anything that referenced who he considered his heir apparent. And everyone I talked to said it was Zak. But Kris kept turning up documents. Letters. And a diary page. Little things that mentioned Valant. But no one knew where they'd come from, how he'd found them but I hadn't. None of them matched the accounts of anyone who knew him."

"You think they were forged."

"I think it's worth looking into." He stretched and leaned back on the couch, languid. "So we'll see. Thanks for coming to me with this."

Apollo nodded, his head spinning a little. He wasn't crazy. Someone who actually knew Mr. Gavin thought he'd been using forgeries. And sure, there was obviously some bad blood between them, so Phoenix Wright might have been biased… but he hadn't sounded surprised by any of it.

"So, what else?" Mr. Wright cocked his head. "What about you? Are you looking for a job?"

"I guess. Yeah. Yeah, I am," Apollo said, hoping it sounded like he had more conviction than he really felt. "I'm doing okay for myself in the meantime, but I do want to work in the industry."

"Well. I could always use an associate."

"You -- what?" Apollo stared.

"An associate. You wouldn't even have to fetch my coffee, just deal with clients and paperwork and stuff."

"How many clients do you have?"

He shrugged. "Not many, but I'm looking to expand. I'm in talks to sign this singer, Lamiroir. Ever heard of her?"

"Yes, actually. I met her not too long ago. Um, through Klavier, though."

"Yeah? Were you tight with him?"

The question felt a little pointed. Apollo flushed slightly.

"No. Kind of. It's complicated. But whatever we were, we aren't now. Accusing his brother of stealing from him didn't go over well."

"You got canned and dumped. Rough day. Well, my offer stands. You want to come work here?"

"You don't want to interview me? Or see my resume or anything?"

"Nah. Kris hired you, so you must be competent, and you ratted him out so you must have a soul. Anything else, you can pick up as you go. The hours are flexible, the pay's mediocre, the benefits are pretty standard." He paused, glanced down at himself, and then added, "No dress code."

"I guess I could do a trial period," Apollo said. "Make sure we work together well and all."

"That's the spirit!" He held out his hand to shake. "Welcome aboard."

Apollo shook his hand, no idea what he was getting himself into. But really, it couldn't be any worse than the last place he'd worked, and experience was experience. And he suspected that working for Phoenix Wright would be quite an experience indeed.

Touring without Daryan was strange. Lonely. Klavier had expected the new guy -- his name was Bayard, and he could shred like no one's business -- to move into the bus with him, taking Daryan's bunk, but he'd demurred and after some hasty rearranging he'd bunked with the rest of the band. He didn't want to intrude, he'said. Klavier worked so hard, he deserved some privacy.

He was lonely.

The long hours spent in the bus with no one but the silent driver for company meant that Klavier could sleep, sure, especially without Daryan's snoring… but it also meant that he had no one to talk to, no one to jam with. He tried spending more time on twitter, interacting with fans that way, but it felt a bit hollow and reminded him of Mikeko.

Mikeko hadn't tweeted much recently. Just a notice of a new video going up. Klavier wondered if he was so busy with his job and his strict boss that he couldn't. He wanted to reach out, to ask how he was doing, but every time he opened their conversation he just saw the way it ended. Him, having been stood up, still desperate but clearly being rejected. His promise not to push things. All he could do was wait, and hope.

But he didn't really think about Mikeko that much when he was alone. Mostly he thought about Apollo.

Apollo, shoving him up against a wall, and how hard his heart had beat at that, even as drunk and stupid as he was.

Apollo laughing and awkward in the record store. He cared about music, like Klavier did. It was somewhere he went for fun, a treat on his day off.

Apollo in the tiny little venue, leaning against him. Apollo being so candid -- is this a date? Apollo kissing him. Klavier had been so surprised, but he shouldn't have been, because he'd already seen how Apollo could be aggressive and intense, and it was so hot. It had been just a kiss, a lovely cap on a lovely night, but it could have led to so much more if only he hadn't…

It was ridiculous to think that Kristoph would steal from him. Kristoph was wealthy enough in his own right, but also he'd never do that to Klavier. And it made it clear that Apollo had just been using him.

It hadn't felt like that, though. Apollo had seemed sincere and intense and awkward and hot. Klavier had been so smitten. In some ways even more than with Mikeko, because though they'd spent time DMing and building up a lot of trust, he'd never met him. Never seen him. Didn't know what their real life chemistry might be.

But Apollo -- he knew.

Fuck, what a loss. And he didn't even have Daryan to talk it through with because Daryan was gone, too. Getting the care he needed -- he'd gotten through detox, and he was in a nice facility now. Which sounded so sterile. It was where he needed to be, but the Gavinners had never existed without him and Klavier missed him so much. He didn't like being in the bus alone, and he'd never felt so lonely.

A week passed. Then two. Klavier spent his days at meet and greets and media events, bright and cheery, and he shined on stage every night. The golden boy, like he always had been, like he had to be. Then he went back to his bus or his hotel and curled up in bed, quiet and alone.

He didn't drink -- that wouldn't really help. He wasn't interested in groupies, that kind of company felt too shallow and hollow and he'd rather be alone than have to deal with their expectations and needs. Maybe that was selfish, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Sex was supposed to be fun, and he didn't think it would be.

He chatted with the rest of the band, but they seemed to get along well enough without him. He called Kristoph, whose frantic assistant from the temp agency always answered and told him Kris would call him back, which he never did.

Sometimes he sat there with a guitar in his hands and waited for inspiration. But all he could ever think was I'm lonely and that didn't make for good lyrics. No one would want to hear it from him anyway. No one would believe that the famous rockstar has no friends to turn to.

So the tour continued.

"Kris! It is about time you called me back!" He collapsed on his cramped, stiff bed in the bus. "What have you been up to?"

"Klavier." An awkward pause, then, "My lawyer will be calling you shortly. We'll need you to wire five million, immediately. You may need to call your accountant about it, you likely don't have that much liquid, but--"

"What? Lawyer? What's happening?"

"I seem to have been arrested. My bail has been set. Nothing will come of this -- I assure you of that. There's been a mistake somewhere. I'll handle this. But--"

"A mistake?" He sat up, sharp. "What have you been accused of? I will fly home tomorrow--"

"No, you need to stay on tour. Just send the money. It's nothing, really, just Phoenix Wright's meddling. It will be dealt with in short order."

"All right, of course, I will help however I can," Klavier promised. "Just keep me posted."

Klavier sent the money. Kristoph was released with an ankle band, and he and his lawyers went to work. The charges kept piling up, though, as the detectives uncovered more and more. He'd falsified contracts and legal evidence, they said. He'd provided all kinds of false testimonies on behalf of his clients. All of which was bad enough, but then the most ludicrous claim of all came in: that his brother, Kristoph Gavin, had spent several years acting as a fence for stolen art.

It was wrong. Klavier didn't believe it. He didn't. He knew the split between Kristoph and Phoenix Wright had been acrimonious, and he knew Wright had connections to the police department. Kristoph insisted that was the source of all this trouble, that Wright had set him up, and that had to be it.

With only a few shows left in the tour, a detective named Lana from the LAPD flew out to speak with him. Kristoph's lawyer joined them and barely allowed Klavier to speak but the detective questioned him nonetheless. Klavier didn't know anything, though. Kristoph had always handled his business, his money, all of it. He'd never witnessed any crimes that he knew of. His finances were a mess, true, but that was his own irresponsible spending, surely.

The detective's expression had gone from disdain to pity and finally she'd wrapped up and said, "Look. It's sweet that you're loyal to your brother, and you really don't seem to be involved in this, but it's not gonna look good for you when he goes down. Which he will."

"Klavier has no comment on that," the lawyer said, expression blank.

"I'm sure he doesn't. I'm not asking him to comment. I'm just saying, if I were him, I'd hire someone to look into this." She set a business card down in front of him. "My sister is a forensic accountant, she works at one of the big talent management firms. You should call her. Or if not her, someone. Someone who isn't related to you, who can look through things objectively and tell you what's going on."

"He doesn't need to do such a thing. Klavier trusts his brother completely."

"Then Klavier," she gave him a disdainful look, "is gonna look awfully stupid when this goes to trial."

She swept out, the red scarf around her neck fluttering. The lawyer slammed the door shut after her.

Klavier slipped the business card into his pocket.

The tour ended before the trial even got started. Klavier sat in the gallery, wearing somber black and trying not to draw attention to himself. Despite Kristoph's assurances, the charges had been pushed through -- all of them, from using forged evidence to enforce contracts to actually assisting with the sales of stolen and forged goods. It was inconceivable that his straight-laced, brilliant older brother would be involved with such things. He just couldn't believe it.

Klavier had wanted to be a lawyer, though he'd dropped out before even considering law school -- but even so, having grown up with a prosecutor father, he was able to understand all the rules and testimonies and everything else. Most defendants didn't give testimony but Kristoph did, still cool and collected even as he was questioned; Drew Misham's statement, that Kristoph had assisted him with his forgeries, was read; evidence was presented.

It all seemed so cold, bloodless. Kristoph never once looked bothered, as if he were spending his days at an art museum, not endless hours in court. Not even when the arguments ended and he was found guilty.

All he said was, "Well. I will certainly be appealing that rather atrocious ruling."

Klavier wasn't allowed near him -- no one was. So he had to watch as Kristoph was led away in handcuffs, and then stared around helplessly at the rest of the room as people filed out and went on with their lives.

He spotted a flash of red on the other side of the gallery and looked up. Apollo Justice was there, frowning. Sitting next to him was Phoenix Wright.

Klavier stormed over toward the door and waited, and they approached, exchanging quick, quiet words, but they both stopped short.

"You. You did this," Klavier said, not sure if it came out angry or desperate. He pointed at Wright, his hand shaking. "You have always been after him, trying to sabotage him, I know it. I remember how things happened."

Apollo stepped back, startled, but Wright just smiled a little.

"You remember what Kristoph told you happened, I'm sure. The problem is, he's a liar. Always has been." He sighed, scratched the back of his neck. "And I know how much that hurts, when you realize he's been lying to you. That you've been stabbed in the back by someone you trusted. You feel like such an idiot, but you're not. He's just that good at manipulating you."

"He isn't…" Klavier swallowed. "He didn't."

"He did." It was Apollo, who was meeting him with a steady gaze. Stern. Intense. "You told me once, you'd rather have your heart on your sleeve and get hurt than be miserly with it. Well, this is the getting hurt part. No one blames you for trusting your brother. But if you still won't see reason, even after a trial full of proof…"

He shook his head. Disappointed or disgusted or maybe both. Klavier couldn't look at him, didn't dare, so he couldn't even guess.

Instead he said, "Maybe he… maybe he's done some bad things, but not to me. And I won't turn my back on him."

"You don't have to--" Wright started, but Apollo interrupted him.

"He does have to. Or he should. Klavier." His voice was so sharp, Klavier was startled into looking up, and it hurt to have that gaze on him. To remember how Apollo had kissed him. Had liked him. And then… "You don't seem to get it. He owns all of your music. He owns the rights to your image. Your band. All of it. And he was still stealing from you. He didn't need to, but he wanted to."

"Why would he, though?" Klavier demanded. "Why would my own brother steal from me, especially if he was already so rich!"

"Why did he always screen your calls? Why did he always treat you like shit?" Apollo shrugged a little. "I don't know."

"I do." Wright sighed. "He likes to be in control -- needs to be in control. Not just of your career or your money, but… all of you. That's how he is, possessive. So many people loved you and he couldn't have that, you might start looking to someone else for support instead of just him, so he went out of his way to undermine you. Jerk you around. Anything to make you desperate for his approval."

"You, uh," Apollo cleared his throat, "you sound like you know that from experience."

"Do I?" Wright sounded almost amused. "He was my partner. And disentangling myself was hard. Look, Klavier. Kid. You deserve better than that, is what we're saying. But if you choose not to believe us after that whole trial, then that's on you." He jerked his head toward the door. "Come on, Apollo. We've got work to do."

"Yeah. I'll catch up with you."

Wright nodded at Klavier again and slid past him, out the door, and that left him standing there, looking at Apollo. Who was just looking back at him.

Klavier's voice broke when he asked, "Do you really think he's guilty?"

"I'm sure of it. And I didn't lie to you. Not about him."

"Then about what?"

Apollo shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. Just… just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay." Klavier stood aside so he could leave, and he did. Klavier watched him go and felt something break a little bit inside him.

The detention center's visiting room was strange and sterile and seeing Kristoph behind glass was awful. Kristoph looked furious and Klavier found himself flinching away from that gaze, even though there was no way Kristoph could come near him.

Not that Kristoph would hurt him, anyway. What a strange reaction. He forced himself to shake it off.

"Kris, I -- I don't know what to say," he started. "The trial was… not what I expected."

"It was nonsense. I will see it corrected. My appeal will be filed within a matter of days. I am not going to let Wright have the last laugh, and I know he's behind this."

"Perhaps he is," Klavier said. "With the… the Gramarye evidence, all of that. But it wasn't just that. How could he make it look like you're guilty of art theft?"

"He is resourceful when he wants to be." Kristoph crossed his arms.

"What… why…" He groped for words. "Why did your partnership dissolve? He always seemed nice to me. I never understood."

"Because you are guileless and take people at face value. Honestly, without me, I don't know what will become of you. You'll have to fend for yourself until I've fixed this. Perhaps it will be good for you."

"Perhaps." Klavier looked down at his hands, then back up. "I have to… One thing that's… You're always so concerned about my image. Making sure I stay golden. This does not make me look good, Kris. To have my manager -- my brother -- in jail."

"You say that as if I intended this to happen. This is not about you."

"No, but it's… it's only…" He could barely bring himself to say it. "I'm going to look for another manager, I think."

"What!" Kristoph's eyes flashed behind his glasses. "You can not do that."

"I didn't want to, but you also can't really manage from--"

"I will be out of here in short order, and you, you spineless fool -- you can not sign with anyone else, your contract forbids it. And even my present circumstances do not release you from it."

Klavier reeled. "Your present -- Kristoph, you are in prison! Ja, you will appeal, and I hope you win it. I have told everyone who asks that I believe you are innocent. Which I do."

"As you should."

"But… but in the meantime, you can not truly mean to hold me to that contract?"

"Why would I not?"

"Because it's bad for the band, and for me." He waited a moment, for Kristoph to respond to that somehow. To make it clear that he hadn't hurt Klavier, that he wouldn't do that. For all his snark, his coldness, he was Klavier's brother. It should have been easy to deny, but Kristoph was still silent. "And there were reports that you were stealing from us. I don't believe them. But if you intend to hold us to that contract, even while you are in prison, then… I will have to have it investigated."

"You wouldn't dare."

"If you are innocent, then it won't matter. You are, aren't you? Kristoph? Please tell me you're innocent."

His voice broke. Kristoph had to be innocent. But all of the evidence at the trial had sounded so damning, and Wright had sounded so sure. And Apollo...

But Kristoph said nothing. Not even an insult. Just crossed his arms and glared down his nose, as cool and collected as always.

Maybe he was innocent. Maybe he was only angry that Klavier would doubt him. Or maybe his lawyers had warned him not to talk about it, not to even deny it. To be silent.

But he should have said something. He was Klavier's brother.

"Okay. Then I suppose that's my answer. I don't know why you'd… I'm sorry. Whatever I did to make you hate me this much, I'm sorry."

He stood slowly, turned away. Only then did Kristoph finally call out to him: "If you do this, you'll regret it."

Klavier didn't look back at him. Just left the visiting room, staggered out to the parking lot where his hog was waiting. But before he reached for it, he pulled out his phone -- and a card, a little tattered from having been in his pocket and then his wallet for weeks. The one the detective had given him.

It wasn't for her sister -- it was for her sister's boss. A very well-connected manager at one of the enormous talent agencies. Klavier had heard his name plenty of times through the years, though had never met him. But yes, he believed that he'd be able to help. He punched the number into his phone and dialed.

"You've reached Miles Edgeworth's office. Please leave your name and number and the reason you're calling, and someone from the office will be in touch with you soon."

"Have a seat."

Klavier sat, and tried not to flinch from Edgeworth's scrutiny. He was used to Kristoph, after all, so having a pretentious man in glasses with a mild accent and a pinched frown examine him was not exactly a new experience. But where Kristoph was family, this man was a stranger.

Which was what Klavier needed.

Edgeworth used an intercom to summon his assistant, a large man with a big smile and a pencil behind his ear. He brought Edgeworth a cup of tea and Klavier a bottle of water, gave Klavier a quick nice to meet you, pal, and then left them to it.

"He's threatened legal armageddon if I so much as breathe outside my contract," Klavier said, as he tried to make himself comfortable on Edgeworth's couch. "And I… I didn't want to do it. I still don't know what to believe about him."

"That's understandable. Family is complicated, and working with family… well. There's a reason my sister heads our international operations. When we work together too closely, things go poorly." He laced his fingers together, hands on his desk. "We'll get copies of everything you've signed and see where we land. I've untangled worse contracts than you can even imagine. Your brother has quite the reputation, true, but we'll see how far he gets when he doesn't have a forger at his beck and call."

Klavier nodded.

"In the meantime, things will be… difficult. It's good that your tour wrapped, as that would have immediately become a matter of contention. He owns your performance rights; that means, until we've got you out of it, you can't perform any of your existing material without his agreement. We don't want your career to grind to a halt, but I think perhaps a hiatus is in order."

"You mean the band just… stops for awhile?" He sighed. "I don't know, I'll have to talk to Daryan and the others. I mean, Daryan's in rehab, maybe it's for the best, but…"

"I know it's difficult, but in the long run it will be good for everyone. We're getting you all out of that contract, which means more money and creative freedom for all of you."

He nodded, miserable. "All right. I will talk to them. Hiatus it is."

"But perhaps a hiatus could also let you focus on something new. Your brother may own the Gavinners, but he does not, in fact, own you. Anything you write from here out, we'll fight to keep under your control."

"My control? Not yours?"

"I will, of course, take a percentage -- as is standard. But you are the musician. Did your brother really control your whole creative process?"

"Ja, well, a lot of it. He was the one who… the theme, you know. Law and order. It was silly but it sold and I had a lot of fun with it, but…" He remembered, suddenly, a line from Mikeko's review of Guilty Love. There's no real emotion behind it. He's got a powerful instrument in his voice, but I've never once felt like he cares about anything he's singing.

"But?"

"But perhaps it's time to put a little more of myself into my music, if I can figure out how."

Edgeworth nodded. "I think that would go over quite well with your fans. Now. Let's talk about finances. Kristoph is in prison so he'll have to appoint someone to work in his stead; that person, I'm sure, will be under explicit orders to withhold all of your funds. Do you have enough to live on in the meantime?"

"I… I don't really know."

That certainly got a disapproving look, but Edgeworth forged onward. "Well, one way we can force him to the table is if we can prove he was, in fact, stealing from you. That's what you reported initially, isn't it?"

"I'm not certain." But he thought back to Apollo, frantic, trying to tell him -- and then stunned when Klavier shut him down. "But his former assistant was quite sure. He tried to report it and got fired instead. I… I was not kind to him."

"That would be," he glanced at some notes, "Apollo Justice, correct? I'll have Ms. Skye contact him. Speaking of which." He pressed an intercom. "Ms. Skye, if you would?"

She came in a moment later. Klavier wasn't sure what he expected, but it was not a woman wearing a lab coat over a business suit, topped by pink goggles. He blinked.

"It's a joke," she said. "I'm a forensic… never mind. Is this the guy?"

"Indeed. Klavier, meet Ema Skye. She's going to find out what happened to your money."

"Hallo." He stood up to offer his hand. Usually, not to generalize, women swooned when he smiled at them. She did not. She looked deeply unimpressed, in fact. "Thank you for helping me out, Ms. Skye. Your sister spoke quite highly of you, between yelling at me about my brother's crimes."

"Uh huh." She had produced a bag of snacks from her labcoat's pocket. "So what's the problem exactly?"

"We aren't quite sure. Klavier?" Edgeworth gestured at him to explain.

"It's… well. My brother, my manager -- former-manager, if we can make that happen -- he controls my finances. All my money comes in through him first. It has been suggested that perhaps… perhaps he was not entirely honest with me about that money. There have been times when I've found my account quite empty, but I never thought much of it. Just… frivolous spending, you know? So I don't know what the truth is."

"The truth." She gave him a long, judgemental look, then wiped crumbs off her cheek. "The truth is, I've seen enough about your concert numbers and albums sales to know that no matter how shitty you are at finances, unless you're buying private islands there's no amount of frivolous spending that could wipe out your whole account."

"I… I have not purchased any islands, no."

"Yachts?"

"Only rentals."

"Then you're fine." She ate another snack. "And if your account is empty, well, someone's stealing from you. And if they are, I'll find it."

"Ms. Skye is quite capable and has handled matters like these for many of my clients," Edgeworth said. "While she works, you'll need to make yourself fully available to her. All your accounts, your contracts, your emails, everything she requests."

"I am more than happy to make myself available to a beautiful fraulein," he said, giving her his best sultry smile.

She threw a snack at his head. "Can it, Goldilocks. I'm too smart to get involved with airhead celebrities."

"Ah." He probably shouldn't have found being insulted so intriguing, he could almost hear Kristoph sneering at him about how he only wanted what he couldn't have. But Kristoph wasn't always right, and Klavier may have found her blunt demeanor endearing, but he wasn't going to be weird about it. "Fair enough. I will provide whatever you need for your investigation then, of course."

"And while she works, we'll discuss strategies to announce the band's hiatus. Things are going to start happening very quickly, and it's very important that you stay on message and keep quiet about everything for a time. You'll be vindicated in the end, but for now -- for now, you never know what off-hand comment could be referenced in court. You won't want to speak to anyone you don't trust, and for god's sake, don't contact your brother. Do you understand? It may be lonely for a time, but you'll come through it in the end."

"No lonelier than I've been lately, I think," Klavier said. "And ja, I understand. Let's figure out our next move."

Klavier stepped out of Edgeworth's office feeling a little overwhelmed. They had a gameplan. It might be rough, Kris would definitely fight them, but Edgeworth was confident it would work.

Edgeworth's assistant was sitting at a messy desk in the reception area in front of his office. He was doing a crossword puzzle but looked up suddenly, guiltily, when Klavier stepped out. "Oh hey, pal, did you sign with Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ja, it's tentative, I've got a mess of contracts to escape from before it can be official, but…" He shrugged.

"Well, that's great! Mr. Edgeworth will take good care of you. And I'm here to help too, anything you need." He stood and held out his hand.

Klavier shook it. "Thanks. And… what was your name?"

"Dick Gumshoe."

"Dick Gumshoe," Klavier repeated. "Great. I'll make sure not to forget that."

Trying to find anything in Mr. Wright's file cabinets was always an adventure. Mr. Wright didn't so much have a filing system as he had a sprawling series of filing cabinets and no idea what was in any of them, nothing was alphabetized or dated, and anything could be anywhere. Which was a problem because his client Will was going to reach the end of his contract with Global Studios soon, and Mr. Wright needed to dig out all of his information so he could be fully armed when he marched into negotiations for a renewal.

Mr. Wright stepped into the main office area. "Didja see the news?"

"Unless the news is a bunch of receipts you filed for some reason six years ago, no."

Mr. Wright laughed. "Looks like Klavier found his spine. Official word is the Gavinners are going on hiatus -- rumor is they're seeking new management and it's gonna be a legal fistfight. Even from prison, Kristoph's throwing a fit."

Apollo straightened up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I happen to know the guy Klavier went to, and Miles doesn't lose. So he's gonna be just fine. You know, in case you care about that."

Apollo felt his cheeks heat. "Why would I care about that?"

"Basic human decency? But also, you, uh, left your computer logged into a bunch of accounts, Mikeko."

"You… oh." He pushed his hair out of his face. "I can explain--"

"What's to explain? You make videos. Make a tidy bit off them too, I'm guessing. Hey, you want me to represent you?"

"What?"

"You know, as your agent. Get you some sponsorship deals or something." He gave Apollo a sly grin. "Just think about it. And in the meantime, did you have any luck digging out the Powers stuff?"

"I'm working on it. Do you even know how the alphabet works?"

Mr. Wright chuckled. "Well, let me know when you find it."

He went back to his office and Apollo kept at it for another few minutes before giving in and digging out his phone. Sure enough, his twitter notifications were blowing up -- any time Klavier Gavin did anything, that happened. In this case it was a little painful, though, since some people acted like he should be happy about the band breaking up because he didn't like their music.

Maybe he would have been, before he'd gotten to know Klavier. But now, knowing not just that he was a decent guy but also that he'd been so manipulated, it just made him sad.

He hesitated, then opened his DMs. He shouldn't send anything. He really shouldn't. If anything he should reach out as himself, but he didn't know how Klavier would take that. Yeah, he'd been vindicated -- he hadn't lied. But it still had to be incredibly painful for Klavier, knowing he'd been used like that.

He stared at the end of their conversation.

Finally he decided, well, what the hell. Reaching out to a friend was more important than whatever weird can of worms it might open. He could always ghost again if he needed to.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and turned back to Mr. Wright's ridiculous filing cabinet.

"You know you don't actually need to lurk in here while I work," Ema said.

Klavier's attempt to give her access to everything had eventually led to her creating a command center in his house. He had plenty of room, so that had been easy enough, and now she had papers and calculators and a laptop up and running, she was doing something with spreadsheets he couldn't even vaguely understand, his various contracts were taped up to the wall and all of his credit cards were laid out on a table.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to distract you." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you need a drink or anything?"

"Nah, I'm good." But she didn't go back to her work immediately. Instead she gave him a long look, then, "You've just been standing around in here on and off. Do you really not have anyone else to hang out with?"

"Your bluntness is quite charming," he said and tried to smile at her. "As it happens, no, not really. I'm under strict orders not to talk to anyone I don't trust, remember? And, well."

"You really don't have anyone you trust?" She sounded incredulous.

"There's Daryan, but he's taking some time away. I wouldn't want to lead paparazzi to his door," Klavier said. "And… beyond that… I think everyone else was intertwined with Kristoph too much. The only person who wasn't..."

He trailed off, thinking about Apollo. Frantic, disbelieving when Klavier wouldn't listen. He'd known, he'd tried to make Klavier see, but instead… Instead Klavier had believed Kristoph. He hadn't even heard Apollo out. If only he'd listened…

Things with Kristoph would still be bad. Maybe they'd still be in a legal battle over contracts, maybe the band would still be on hiatus. But he'd have had Apollo throughout it.

"Who wasn't?" Ema prompted.

"I drove him away. I took Kristoph's side over his."

"Sounds like you owe him an apology, then." She reached for her calculator. "You should go do that and stop distracting me."

"I should…" He sighed. "Yes. But I don't know how."

"That's definitely a you problem. I'm only here to deal with your financial mess." She'd already gone back to work. He watched her for another moment, almost smiling because he did like people who were very intense and she was definitely that, but then he let her work.

She was right. He should apologize. Even if nothing came from it -- it wasn't like he could just expect Apollo to want to go on another date, come home with him, pick up where they'd left off. But he could at least call.

Except.

He wasn't a coward. He wasn't. But Apollo had risked -- and actually lost -- his job, trying to help, and that was after the whole situation with Mikeko and the date where Apollo had been so rightly annoyed at him. He deserved better.

Klavier chewed on that thought for awhile as he sat down with his guitar, in a soundproofed room where he wouldn't distract Ema. He thought back to the last time he'd tried to play by himself, let alone write, and he'd just ended up thinking I'm lonely over and over again.

He still was. He felt like he'd lost everything -- his brother, his band, his shot at a relationship. But the utter despair he'd had last time had fallen away. Now, while he had regrets -- so, so many regrets -- he also had a better idea of what had really happened. He'd been manipulated. He'd put his need for Kristoph's approval above everything else, and had lost everything.

His fingers seemed to work on autopilot as he began strumming chords.

Snatches of lyrics began to spark in his mind. Nothing solid yet, nothing good. And nothing familiar. Nothing about police or the law or witnesses or evidence. Just his own emotions. Regret. Isolation. Anger. And a tiny, tiny glimmer of hope.

He was surprised when Ema knocked on the door. He hadn't realized how many hours had passed, but his fingers were raw, paying the price for so many hours of just sitting there with his guitar. He had a chorus now, though, and bits of verses. It felt good.

"I'm heading out. Figured you'd want to lock the door behind me," she said. "By the way, I didn't hate that. What you were playing."

"Ah, thank you." He set his guitar in its stand and stood, stretched, and gestured at the door. "I assume you have very discerning taste, so I will take that as a high complement."

She laughed. "Yeah, let's go with that. Honestly I'm not really a music person, but there's this youtuber I like who makes videos and he has some, uh, strong opinions about you."

"Mikeko?" he guessed.

"That's the one!"

"Ah, yes, I know him a little. His videos are good, even if he hates me." He smiled as they reached the front door. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Yep. I'm making progress. Your brother's a dirtbag and I'm gonna prove it."

He nodded. It still stung, but now he believed it. Maybe he'd just needed some space. Maybe he'd needed to hear it from more people. He didn't know, but…

He sighed.

It had been a few days since he'd thought about Mikeko, though. He unlocked his phone as he wandered toward the kitchen, wanting some water and maybe a snack. He wondered how Mikeko was doing, and as almost a matter of habit opened his DMs, and --

He blinked. Got his drink. Drank it. And stared again.

What was weird, though, was that the huge rush of emotion he expected just… wasn't there. He'd fallen so fast and hard for Mikeko, who he barely even knew, and it had ended so suddenly and strangely. He'd thought to himself he would be thrilled to hear from him again, or even angry, or -- something.

But there were so many bigger things happening now. Seeing the message made him smile, but it didn't make him feel like he was flying or desperately want to ask Mikeko to come meet him again or anything like that.

Which was, he was pretty sure, progress. He'd been too intense, and now he was less so.

That was nice, right? Normal. He rummaged around until he found a box of crackers, then grabbed his phone. He was going to watch a movie or something, he wasn't sure, the night seemed long and lonely without any shows or press or parties. But he was surprised that he already had a message back.

Klavier smiled again and pocketed his phone. It was weird; he didn't feel a need to respond, to flirt, to do much of anything. Maybe because the last time he'd been seriously flirting with someone it had been Apollo, and that had ended so badly.

He hummed the chorus he'd written to himself and sprawled on the couch.

Apollo kept waiting for a reply. It wasn't that he needed one. He'd wanted to check in and make sure Klavier was okay, well, mission accomplished. He hadn't wanted it to become a whole thing, to open back up that can of worms and have to figure out how to come clean and all that.

So only getting a brief response and then nothing was good.

Yet for some reason, he was disappointed. Just a tiny bit. Which was crazy. But he'd missed the guy in his DMs, and he'd been angry about what had happened in real life, yeah, but he missed the Klavier he'd known in real life, too. The way Klavier had seemed to melt when Apollo had kissed him. The teasing smile, the silly accent. All of it.

He could have reached out, he guessed. But Klavier probably had enough on his plate, and anyway, Apollo wasn't sure it would be welcome. Klavier had finally wised up to Kristoph, but that didn't mean he'd forgive Apollo for everything that had happened. It wasn't his fault or anything, but Klavier might feel like it was.

Or maybe Klavier just didn't think about him at all, didn't feel anything.

He put it all out of his mind. Or at least, he tried to.

Ema's results were definitive: yes, Kristoph was cheating him out of millions. Edgeworth brought in a lawyer, they prepared to go to court. Kristoph would be facing new charges in addition to the sentence he was already serving, but they would negotiate, drop those charges if he'd return their rights, pony up the money, let the band out of their contracts. And meanwhile, Klavier kept writing, and then started recording. It was rough doing it all by himself, in a home studio. Even with his very good equipment, it wasn't polished; he wasn't a producer.

He sent the recording to Edgeworth, who emailed him back immediately.

Klavier stared at it. Kristoph had never told him his music was good. Which was such a silly thing to think of, but true nonetheless.

As for solo…

Maybe.

He called Daryan, told him about the track, emailed it over. Daryan listened while still on the phone, which was nerve wracking, then said, "Yeah, he's right. It's good shit."

"It is? You really think?"

"You should do it."

"I should… by myself?"

"Yeah. I'm out, Klav. Even after the hiatus. I want my money, yeah, but as much as I want to stick it to Kristoph by staying around, you were right. Fame isn't good for me."

Klavier was quiet for a long moment. It was rough to hear something so honest, but he'd seen it for years. Daryan's temper getting worse along with his drinking, his sarcasm twisting into genuine bitterness. It had been bad, yes, and Klavier had known it.

Finally, he let out a long breath. "It wouldn't be the band without you."

"Then maybe it's not the band anymore. Maybe it's not really just a hiatus."

"Maybe. But..." But Daryan was his best friend, and Klavier had never performed alone. Losing everything all at once -- his brother, his best friend, the band, all of it -- that was almost too much. But the song was good. And if Klavier wanted to keep going, which he did, it would have to be like this. He'd have to do it. But even so. "You'd be welcome back, you know. Any time. We could start it together again, find a new drummer and bassist--"

"Someday, maybe."

"Someday," Klavier said. "But in the meantime, you won't mind? If I… if I do this? You really think I could make it on my own?"

Daryan laughed. "I know you can, golden boy. Show that snake in the grass brother of yours what you can do without him holding you back."

Klavier had to gasp in a breath at that. Kristoph had held him back. He'd known it, on some level. Needing Kristoph's approval, both emotionally but also literally before he could release any music -- sticking to Kristoph's silly theme, keeping himself in the image Kristoph wanted for him--

"Thanks, Daryan."

He emailed Edgeworth back.

He was used to Kris blowing him off for days at a time, so it was a little startling to get a quick response.

How odd, to have gotten instant approval. Support. Was that what a manager was supposed to feel like?

He wanted visuals to go with the audio, and luckily he had a camera from recording footage on tour. The plan had been to put some of it on a concert DVD but that wasn't going to happen now. He still had the camera, though. Setting it up was a little awkward, it took him a few tries to figure out how to prop it up somewhere he'd be in view, and he knew the audio would be awkward. Well, so be it. This wasn't from a studio, it was from his heart.

Apollo stared at his phone. He was used to being woken up by Clay's enthusiastic texts, but that was a lot of all-caps messages in a row.

Clay sent a link to a youtube video. Apollo sat up, rubbed his eyes, and opened it.

Klavier Gavin settled onto a stool in a cramped room. It was a little dim -- amateur footage, really, but it was from his official account, and had just been posted overnight.

"Hallo. Things have been a bit weird recently, ja? I appreciate all the support people have been sending, it means the world to me. It's going to be a long time before I can talk about anything that's been happening but, well. I'm a musician. When I can't talk, I sing."

He gave the camera a sheepish smile.

"Anyway, this is something new, it's a little different. I hope you all like it, but the truth is, it's really only for one person. He'll know who he is, I'm sure. It's what he thinks that matters the most."

Then he began to play, a pretty chill strummed melody. After a moment he began to sing. And it was nothing like the Gavinners.

Nothing.

And holy shit. It was good. Klavier's voice was raw but full of emotion as he sang about regret, about feeling like a fool, about believing the wrong person and what he'd lost. He was very clear in the lyrics: what he'd lost was a relationship, one that was just starting, with a person who'd tried to help him but he'd shut down. How he wished he'd done something different, that they'd had a second date, that he'd let himself be saved instead of manipulated. That he was sorry.

He was sorry.

Apollo's hand shook as he texted Clay, Holy shit. Should I call him??? And then but fuck, he STILL DOESN'T KNOW, I have to tell him, don't I??

Apollo laughed, feeling a little like he was choking. Yeah, he had to do that. Klavier needed to know the whole story, who he'd really been dealing with all along. And, crap, Apollo knew exactly how he had to do it, too.

Klavier was genuinely stunned by the outpouring from his fans as people watched his video. They loved the song -- of course, he always had plenty of people who told him they loved his songs, but this felt different. He'd been raw and vulnerable, had no band to play off and no persona to hide behind. The people who connected with it were really connecting with him. Not with the golden boy, who was so perfect, but with Klavier himself, all his flaws and weaknesses and insecurities, but all his talent and determination, too.

It was incredible.

He laughed when he saw people begin tagging Mikeko -- lots of people daring him to review this one, asking if he still thought Klavier was a hack or what. He even checked his DMs, half-expecting an annoyed message, and--

Then a link to a video, brand new, titled this is not a review of regret. The thumbnail was of his cat, curled up.

He clicked play.

The video was of Mikeko-the-cat, laying there snoozing on a red bedspread while Mikeko-the-human spoke in voiceover. It wasn't his usual audio quality -- it seemed like it was being read live, not from a script, with no edits.

"Hey," he said, the familiar voice Klavier had listened to so many hours of. "So this is a little weird and not my usual video. Uh, but I listened to Klavier Gavin's solo song. Regret. This is not a review, okay. I'll just say it was… it was really good. He's always had a good voice but it turns out when he's actually singing something he cares about, it's amazing.

"But more importantly, it was… it was really brave. He said it was an apology to one person, and he really put himself out there, made it clear how he feels. I was stunned. And I wanted to do something brave, too. Something honest."

The camera cut, and then the cat was gone. In her place, sitting cross legged on the bed, was Apollo Justice. His expression was terrified as he looked at the camera, but after a moment it became determined. Steely. Intense.

"Hi. So this is me. My real name is Apollo and despite what some people on the internet seem to think, I'm not actually a cat. And look, this is weird. Because this is a video for one person. I don't like attention and I was happy staying anonymous but he deserves to know who I am.

"So… well, you know who you are. And if you want to, you know where to find me."

That was it. The video ended.

Klavier gasped.

Apollo wasn't sure what to expect so he'd decided to ignore the entire internet for awhile and instead had Clay come over so they could watch a movie and order pizza and pretend things were normal. Clay didn't even call him out on how jittery he was, just insisted on taking his phone away so he could try to relax. As if that was going to happen.

"Look, I'll check in a little bit," Clay said. "And let you know if You Know Who said anything, and you won't have to look at any of it."

"Thanks. I just. I shouldn't have done it, should I? I should have called him like a normal person." Apollo buried his head in his hands. "I just wanted to make a gesture. To make us even. Gahhhh, everyone is going to be so weird, why did I--"

The buzzer buzzed. Clay stood up. "Pizza! Pizza will make you feel better."

Apollo very much doubted that, but didn't argue the point. Clay got up to buzz the delivery into the building, Apollo pressed play on their movie and waited for him to come back with food.

Instead: "Well, you're not the delivery boy."

"Ach! Sorry, I must have the wrong--"

Apollo rocketed to his feet, as Clay interrupted. "Oh, no, you've got the right place. Polly, it's for you."

And yes, there in his doorway was all six feet of Klavier Gavin, looking a little frantic, and his eyes went wide as he saw Apollo. Apollo knew how he felt.

"Uh, hi?" Apollo squeaked.

"You didn't answer my DMs!" Klavier exclaimed, then winced. "I mean, um. I watched your video. You said to get in touch but I… I got impatient."

Clay cackled. "I took his phone away, he was getting too twitchy. Hi, I'm Clay, by the way." He held out his hand, and still looking a little dazed, Klavier shook it. Except Clay didn't let go. "I'm Apollo's best friend. I also happen to be training as an astronaut at GYAXA, which means I'm buff as hell. And I don't care if you're a rockstar, if you're a dick to Polly again, I will fuck you up. Got it?"

"Oh my god, Clay," Apollo said, but at least his embarrassment at his best friend made his brain come back online finally. "You don't need to threaten him."

"I don't mind," Klavier said. "And I'm glad you have someone looking out for you. It was Clay, ja? I did not come here to be a dick to Apollo, I promise you that."

"Though dicks are gonna be involved, presumably."

"Clay!" Apollo smacked the back of his head.

Clay cackled again. "Okay, okay. I'll be nice. I'll go and let you two have your privacy and even have the pizza, but don't forget what I said. I meant it."

Klavier nodded. Clay handed Apollo his phone and swaggered out, shutting the door behind him. Leaving Apollo alone with Klavier.

Who had watched the video.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you--" Apollo started.

"I was so happy it was you." Klavier's eyes were enormous, bright even in Apollo's dim apartment.

"When I stood you up--"

"I'd been a jerk," Klavier said. "You made it clear, I just didn't know it was you. I liked you so much. I liked you as Mikeko and I liked you as you, and I'm so sorry, Apollo. I didn't want to believe you about Kristoph but you were telling the truth."

"I know. But there's one more thing." He made himself say it all before he could chicken out. No more secrets. He was going to do this right, all cards on the table, make sure Klavier knew exactly what had happened. "When I saw that Drew Misham had been arrested, I recognized his name from your brother's files and put two and two together and made sure the tip got reported. Also I work for Phoenix Wright now. But yeah, I'm the reason your brother got arrested."

It was like ripping a bandaid off and he winced a little from what he'd said, leaving it hanging in the air. Clay couldn't have gone far, at least. He'd be back quickly if Apollo needed to drink and mope.

But after a long moment Klavier let out a breath. "You reported a tip. But you didn't lie, did you? You didn't make it up, just said what you knew."

"Yeah."

"Then…" He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Then you are not the reason he's in prison. He is the reason, nein? He committed crimes. You only reported them."

"Yeah, that's true. But I just… I know you love him, and it's been hard for you. I'm not sorry I did it but I am sorry you were hurt."

"Hm. Did you know, I think, in twenty-five years, Kristoph has never once apologized to me? He is the one who stole from me, and hurt me, and took advantage of me. You -- you tried to protect me." He finally met Apollo's eyes again, his bravado gone. He looked so vulnerable, standing there in Apollo's living room, and Apollo had the sudden insane thought that he would protect Klavier, in any way he could. "I am the one who should be sorry, Apollo. And I am."

"Yeah, you made that pretty clear in the song. I just needed to be honest about all of it, but that's it. The last secret. This is me, this is… this is who I am. And for what it's worth, I really liked that song. As a song, not just an apology."

That got him a tentative smile. "Finally, a good review."

Apollo smiled back. "So what do you think? You said you were happy it was me. Are you still, knowing all of it?"

"I am. To be fully honest, you are the first thing that has made me happy in weeks."

It was so soft and a little sad and so genuine that Apollo didn't know how to respond for a moment. It was Klavier the rockstar standing in front of him. The shine had worn off his golden boy veneer but he still had the jewelry and the chains and the astoundingly beautiful smile. But that one line -- that had been the guy from his DMs. The one who'd trusted him and told him about his best friend's drinking problem and listened to him talk about Khura'in. The one he'd fallen for, even when the rockstar was being a jerk.

They were the same person.

Apollo couldn't wait another second. He pushed into Klavier's personal space, a little frantic and desperate, wrapped his arms around Klavier and pulled him down into a kiss. Klavier moaned a tiny bit and kissed him back, his arms coming around Apollo, his lips soft, his eyes wide with surprise and joy. It was beautiful and it felt so good and Apollo could have kissed him forever.

The buzzer went off again.

Apollo pulled back, laughing a little. "The pizza delivery is… hold that thought. I hope you like pepperoni."

"I like you," Klavier said. "Pepperoni is just a bonus."

"Sounds like a terrible song lyric," Apollo said, and kissed him again.

Clay checked his phone and grinned. There wasn't much he'd pass on a movie-and-pizza night for, but Apollo's happiness was on the list, and anyway, Aura's terrifying brother was probably hanging out at the space center so it wasn't like the night was a total loss.

Klavier had tweeted, short and ridiculous:

Yeah, he was never going to let Apollo live that down. He checked Apollo's twitter and had to laugh. He'd put up a picture of Klavier on his couch, Mikeko in his arms, and it was very cute, but the caption was cuter.