apollo justice: attorney at law, friend of worms

It’s raining as Apollo walks to the Wright Anything Agency; normally, he’d take his bike, but the chains have been rusting a lot recently and he doesn’t want to risk them getting any worse before he finds the spare time to fix them. Still, though, every time he leaves his apartment, the weather seems fine, and it’s only once he’s midway through his journey that he inevitably always gets caught in a five-minute shower of torrential rain, which, although brief, soaks him completely and leaves the streets slick with water.

Which also means that all of the worms, usually hiding deep in the little patches of soil and grass amidst the otherwise greyed-out concrete, are now littered across the sidewalk. Ever since he was a child in Khura’in, he’s been used to surrounding himself with nature, and the move to LA made him realise that not everyone will stop to walk around something so small on the ground; and so, naturally, he spends a good five minutes bending down to pick up the worms from the wet street, placing them gently back on the grass.

At first, he’d been embarrassed to do this around anyone, his friends included, but Clay had reassured him, years ago, that it was actually quite an endearing character trait. Now, if he’s walking with someone who knows him well enough, they’ll stop and wait while Apollo Justice, friend of every worm, lifts them up and protects them; sometimes, Trucy will even make the worms disappear and reappear just to make his day. It’s a side of him that he’s been apprehensive about showing for years, but slowly, after he gained confidence both in and outside of the courtroom, he’s been getting more and more comfortable being Apollo.

Waving goodbye to the now-rescued worms, he walks the rest of the way to the Wright Anything Agency with a smile on his face.

A little before midday, Trucy decides that she wants something other than the instant noodles that Mr. Wright keeps well-stocked, and it falls to Apollo—who always wanted a little sister and who therefore actually enjoys his perpetual big brother duty—to take her to the grocery store. They walk together, passing through the same streets that Apollo takes on his way to and from work, and he scans the grassy areas to see that most of the worms have already burrowed back into the soil—that is, all except one.

He recognises it because of the distinct yellow ring around its inner body, almost similar to his own bracelet. It’s still on the grass, in the exact same position as Apollo remembers leaving it.

Bending down to pick it up, he holds the worm in his palm.

“Hey, little guy,” he says, smiling down at the worm who, naturally—on account of being a worm —does nothing. “Mr. Worm, are you okay? Hey, Trucy, what do you think of the name?”

“I knew I should have copyrighted the Mr. Hat brand!” Trucy says with a smile. “It’s perfect, though. I like it. Careful though, Polly, you’ll get attached and cry when you have to put him back on the ground.”

“Oh,” Apollo says. “Well, he obviously doesn’t like the ground, so maybe I should just keep him for a few days until I can find him a new home.”

“That’s exactly what you said about Mikeko, and look at her now! You turned a stray into Apollo Justice’s Bitchy Princess.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll tell Mr. Wright that you swear like a sailor.”

“Bitchy isn’t a bad word!”

“Shall we ask him, then?”

“Polly! You’re the worst!”

“Then I’m keeping the worm and you’re not allowed to make fun of me for it.”

Apollo picks up a handful of the soil and places it in his palm, resting Mr. Worm on top of it. Lowering his voice to a more gentle tone, he affectionately talks to Mr. Worm, even going as far as to pet him lightly on top of his head (or, at least, the end of his body that Apollo is about 60% sure is his head). He only stops when someone behind him coughs to get his attention, and when he turns around, he sees Klavier Gavin, dressed in a way that makes his unbuttoned court attire almost look professional.

“Who is Herr… Worm?”

“Mr. Worm,” Apollo holds his hand out, where Mr. Worm is lying on top of the soil. “My new best friend.”

“That… is a worm,” Klavier says.

“Great observational skills, Prosecutor Gavin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take Trucy to the grocery store. She wants snacks and I need to buy an enclosure for my favourite little guy.”

“J-Ja,” Klavier replies, confused. “I hope you and Herr Worm have fun.”

And Apollo’s bracelet tightens.

Walking through the all-purpose grocery and home supplies store with a handful of soil and a worm in the pocket of his hoodie wasn’t exactly what Apollo had planned for the day, but he can’t say he minds too much. Besides, Trucy loves random grocery store trips, and she’s obviously having the time of her life helping him pick out a suitable enclosure for Mr. Worm; even when the shopping cart is filled with bags of soil and sand, a watering can and spray bottle, even little accessories for worm-specific mental exercise, she still pushes it along at high speed down the aisles, jumping off the ground and holding onto the cart like it’s some kind of funfair ride.

Once Apollo gets back to his apartment, he sets up the worm enclosure with alternating layers of soil and sand, keeping the soil wet and dropping some vegetable scraps on the top before welcoming Mr. Worm into his new home.

His phone buzzes with a text message, but he puts it to the side and makes sure that Mr. Worm is comfortable and happy, setting the enclosure in the cool dark of his cupboard, before answering.

Changing into his pyjamas, Apollo puts his phone on charge and brings his laptop and a bowl of popcorn to the cupboard, opening the door slightly, enough that he can sit cross legged in the doorway, but not so much that Mr. Worm is uncomfortable with the light. He chooses a Netflix documentary about worms, hoping that it’ll help Mr. Worm settle in better to apartment life, and sits there in the semi-darkness, occasionally pointing out, between bites of popcorn, interesting things for Mr. Worm to look at.

It’s nice, actually. The last roommate he had was Clay, but he’s living closer to the Gyaxa-run Cosmos Space Center these days, in preparation for his big launch almost exactly a year from now. And, as much as Apollo likes living alone, it’s nice to feel like somebody is actually listening when he talks about whatever TV show he’s watching, even if his current company is a worm who, he’s pretty sure, doesn’t have the ability to hear at all.

Once the documentary finishes, Apollo is tired. He takes his phone from the charger and snaps a quick photo of Mr. Worm in his enclosure, deciding to upload it to his Instagram, despite having not updated the account since 2019.

And then, tired and happy, he heads to bed with his phone on silent.

He wakes up early to a barrage of notifications, most of which are text messages from Trucy.

Worried, he checks Twitter, but he doesn't even need to scroll far to see that Klavier's name is trending, alongside... his own name? And, in all caps, WORM.

What?

The screenshots have been posted over and over, usually by Gavinners fan accounts, and Apollo thinks that the whole thing is quite frankly ridiculous.

Apollo sighs, having to mentally restrain himself from throwing his phone across the room. What was obviously a mean joke on Klavier’s part, which he thankfully (but not quickly enough) decided to delete, has now gone viral, putting him directly in a spotlight that he has no desire to be in. Hoping that it all blows over, as celebrity tweets tend to do, he tries to go about his morning as usual, adding an extra step to his routine as he checks on Mr. Worm, making sure that he still has enough food left in his enclosure.

Despite Trucy’s relentless teasing over the whole situation, Apollo does actually manage to get some work done. At the end of the day, just as he’s about to leave for another quiet night in with his new best friend, Trucy tugs at his arm and, from the look on her face, he can tell that she’s about to ask him for a huge favour.

“Polly,” she says. “You know since you’re the best big brother ever and also since you basically broke Prosecutor Gavin’s heart and you owe him one for that—”

“The point, Truce. Make it, please.”

“So I have tickets to Klavier’s solo show tonight and I promise it’s only a small venue, like 50 seats maximum, and I have two tickets but Daddy can’t take me anymore because something came up so please, please could you take me?”

“Truce, I can’t leave Mr. Worm for that long, not after I've been away all day. I think he might have separation anxiety, he was waiting on the top of his soil for me this morning.”

“Polly, please? You can even put Mr. Worm in a jar with some soil and bring him along! It’ll be fun, and it’s only a short promo gig for his new EP so it’ll last like, two hours maximum, I swear.”

“Fine. But only if you promise you’ll find a new participant for that sword trick you’ve been talking about.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but okay. It starts at 7. I’ll meet you at your apartment!”

Reluctantly, Apollo gets home and tries to make himself look presentable, staring longingly at the fresh pyjamas he laid out on his bed this morning. Still, he doesn’t exactly have to make that much of an effort for a man who, less than twelve hours ago, publicly mocked him online for having compassion towards his pet worm, so he settles on a smart polo shirt and jeans.

When he opens the cupboard, large mason jar in hand, he immediately apologises to Mr. Worm.

“I’m sorry little guy, I know I was at work all day. Oh, look at you! You’ve eaten well today, my favourite little worm, I’m so proud of you, yes I am, yes I am! We’re going to go to a concert tonight, I promise we’ll stand at the back so it’s not too loud for you, I know you can’t hear but I don’t want the vibrations to bother you king. Yes, yes, I promise we won’t stay out too late, okay? Perfect. I love you. Yes I do!”

He scoops some of the soil into the mason jar and sprays it with water, and then transfers Mr. Worm into the jar, which has a lid with air holes—he’d bought it at the store yesterday in case he ever needed to take Mr. Worm somewhere in a portable carrier, not expecting that it would be put to use so soon.

Trucy was right about it being a fairly small venue, though, even if all of the aforementioned 50 seats are definitely full. Well, to call them ‘seats’ would be a little generous, considering that the venue is more of a town hall type deal, and most people are either sitting on plastic chairs or standing on the creaky wooden floor. The stage, upon which Apollo assumes Klavier is going to play, is empty, save for a single wooden chair, but as he watches, a projector screen begins to descend from the ceiling.

And then there’s a familiar voice behind him.

“The last concert wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

It’s Ema. She’s standing there looking as dissatisfied as ever, with a lanyard around her neck that tells Apollo she’s working security for another one of Klavier’s shows.

“I guess it wasn’t enough for you either,” Apollo smirks.

“Oh, don’t start. I’m doing this because salary review is coming up and I’m trying to get in all the prosecutors’ good books. And we all know how Klavier has been recently, no thanks to someone.”

“Is this about Mr. Worm again? Because, really—”

“You named the worm?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did. He’s right here,” Apollo holds the jar up.

Ema pulls a magnifying glass out of one of her many pockets and bends down to examine Mr. Worm, rolling her eyes as she stands back up to her full height. 

“You know,” she says. “Klavier is gonna hate that you’ve brought him along.”

“Why?”

“The whole ‘jealous of a worm’ thing? It’s still viral, you know.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. But it’s not like he’s going to see me anyway. I’m only here to babysit Trucy—”

“Hey!” Trucy interjects. “I don’t need babysitting!”

“Well, whatever,” Ema continues. “He’s even got me working the stupid fog machine for ambiance or something, so I bet he’ll hate what I have planned more than anything you could do.”

“Ema, c’mon,” Apollo says, exasperated. “We both know how he gets when he’s irritated. Do you really want to deal with his drama queen behaviour?”

“Eh, a girl’s gotta have fun. See ya!”

She leaves just as Apollo sees Klavier walk on stage, acoustic guitar in hand. He takes a seat on the chair and greets his audience; with his enhanced perception, Apollo sees that he’s got dark circles under his eyes that aren’t wholly covered by concealer.

The music though… it’s nice. It’s a far cry from his usual loud Gavinners schtick, and Apollo notices that when his performance is stripped back to just vocals and acoustic accompaniment, he actually has a beautiful voice—it’s deep, soft, and genuinely conveys anguish and heartbreak. If this is what he was hiding behind the stupid pro-establishment rock songs, then Apollo doesn’t understand why he didn’t branch out into a solo career a lot earlier.

And then it all goes to hell.

Midway through one of the saddest songs, the fog machines turn on, only—they don’t spew out fog.

They spew out hundreds of worms on strings.

The colourful, fuzzy bodies explode onto the stage, covering not only the floor but Klavier himself, who takes one look at the carnage and almost drops his guitar in shock. While the crowd goes wild, cheering and laughing, Klavier just keeps his eyes turned down, takes a deep breath, and calls for the lights to go up.

As the venue lights, which were dim up until now, flicker into their full LED brightness, someone turns around in the chaos and makes direct eye contact with Apollo, who is clutching Mr. Worm’s portable enclosure, holding Trucy’s hand, ready to make a quick exit.

“Hey!” They shout. “It’s worm guy! Worm guy is here!”

And the crowd swarms him. He can barely see over their heads, but because the stage is elevated, Apollo can see just how heartbroken Klavier looks, and it makes him feel kind of bad. But as much as he wants to leave—the crowd is overwhelming and he’s never been good with big groups of people—he’s being accosted on either side by Klavier Gavin’s fans, who are now asking him for his autograph.

“R-Really,” he protests. “Klavier’s the one you came to see.”

“But you’re worm guy! You’re like, Twitter famous.”

“Yeah! And you even brought the worm!”

“Go on, let’s see the worm!”

“Can I have the worm’s autograph?”

And, between all this babbling harassment, Apollo can’t stop staring at Klavier, who is staring at nothing. Frustration builds, heavy, in his chest.

“Just stop!” Apollo yells, and the crowd falls silent at his (well-practiced, thank Holy Mother) chords of steel. “You really call yourself fans of Klavier if you’d upset him at his own concert?! He’s been playing lovely music all night and you all choose to harass some guy who’s only here to take his little sister to a show, all because of some dumb Twitter meme? Christ, if I were a celebrity I’d never release new music again and I’d tell you all to fuck off!”

It could just be a trick of the light, but, still surrounded by a rainbow of fake worms, it looks as though Klavier manages a slight smile.

Thankfully, he manages to drop Trucy off and make it back home without any further chaos, but even as he settles Mr. Worm back into his regular enclosure, he can’t seem to turn his brain off enough to find sleep himself. He just turns over and over in his bed, wondering if there’s any way to clean up the mess he didn’t even know he created, when his phone buzzes with a text from Trucy, a single message containing only a SoundCloud link.

Apollo clicks play, and suffers through almost four minutes of lyrics such as Do you pull the darkness out of everyone you see? / Or am I just naïve / To hope and wish it was only me / But it’s getting harder to believe / Would you love me more without my spine? / Was I ever more than just short-term? / How can I ever call you mine? / When you’re in love… in love with a worm.

This has gone too far.

He texts Klavier.

When Klavier arrives, he’s in sweatpants and an oversized purple t-shirt, and he looks like hell. Apollo rolls his eyes with a smile and invites him inside, an invitation which Klavier accepts with a sad expression on his face. As Apollo leads him through to his small living room, he takes Mr. Worm’s enclosure out of the cupboard and sets it on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“Klavier,” he says. “What do you hate so much about this worm?”

“Ach, I just…”

“Hold your hand out.”

Klavier holds his hand out, hope glimmering in his eyes. When Apollo doesn’t immediately take it, and instead opens the worm enclosure, Apollo doesn’t need a magic bracelet to tell that he’s disappointed, but at least he doesn’t pull it back.

He takes a handful of soil out of the enclosure and puts it onto Klavier’s palm and then slowly, gently, lifts up Mr. Worm and sits him atop the fresh mound.

“There,” Apollo says. “Now tell me what you hate about him.”

Klavier Gavin looks like he’s about to cry.

“I… I can’t… oh, mein gott, he really is just a little guy, isn’t he?”

“Exactly. He’s a little guy who I got attached to and now he lives in my apartment. What could you possibly dislike about that?”

“Herr Forehead, are you really this dense?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t hate the worm. I’m—”

“He has a name. He’s not the worm.”

“Sorry. I’m jealous of… Herr Worm.”

“Jealous? What?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Klavier sighs, bringing his other hand up to very lightly pet Mr. Worm. “Oh, Mr. Worm, your father is a dense idiot, isn’t he?”

“Hey! Don’t tag team with my worm to be mean to me.”

“Herr F— Apollo. I was jealous of Herr Worm because you were giving him attention.”

“And you… want my attention?” Apollo says, confused.

“Have I not made that pretty obvious by now?”

“No?!”

Klavier looks at the worm in his palm, shaking his head and smiling slightly. “Oh, Herr Worm, we’re really in it now.”

“Talk to me instead of Mr. Worm!”

“Apollo Justice,” Klavier looks at him directly. “Attorney at law. Friend of worms. The most dense man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Of course I want your attention. I have the world’s biggest crush on you.”

“You what?”

“Have done ever since we met in People Park, actually.”

“And instead of telling me this like a sane person, you wrote a song about your jealousy over my pet worm?!”

“Ach, the dramatics of it all do sound a little… dramatic… when you put it that way.”

“Not your best line,” Apollo smirks. “But while we’re on the topic, I’m free on Friday.”

“And will it just be us? Or will Herr Worm be accompanying us?”

“I’m sure I can ask Trucy to babysit him.”

“Perfect,” Klavier smiles, and then looks down at Mr. Worm again. “Danke, Herr Worm. Your matchmaker services may be unconventional, but mein gott, they are effective.”

Mr. Worm, on account of being a worm, and thus having no concept of love, or time, or anything beyond the soil upon which he rests, says nothing at all.