Chapter Text
The second Apollo turns the key in the Wright Agency’s office door and notes the still darkness of the room, he breathes a sigh of relief.
This quickly turns into a yelp of terror when the big computer chair at the other end of the reception area swivels around by itself, revealing the sparkly cape and distinctive top-hat of Trucy Wright, hands folded primly in her lap.
“Polly,” she says, in that too-innocent tone of voice she uses when you’re about to really get a lecture. “Have you got something to share with us?”
“I–” Apollo begins, and curls his fingers tightly around the strap of his messenger bag. “I guess I…well…maybe?”
Trucy frowns pensively and reaches into a folder tucked down by the side of the chair. She removes three different tabloid magazines and fans them out in front of her.
“Perhaps these will refresh your memory,” she says, and okay, this act is fully terrifying now. Apollo throws his hands in the air in surrender.
“Okay! Okay. I’m…dating Klavier. Is that what you wanted?”
And Trucy squeals, jumping a foot in the air as she launches herself from the chair. Apollo barely has enough warning to brace himself as she throws her arms around his neck, swinging him around in a massive hug.
“Finally! Oh Polly, I’m so happy for you guys, you don’t even know!”
Apollo chuckles awkwardly, trying to process all of this in his head. Finally? Had people been expecting this?
But he can’t spend too long on his worries, because the door he’d let swing shut behind him slams open and crashes against the wall.
“APOLLO!” His name is shouted with characteristic aggression, and Apollo turns to find Athena Cykes towering over him, pointing at him with all the decisiveness of a mid-trial objection.
“Why would you make us all find out from trashy magazines that you and Klavier got your acts together after all this time? I’ve been waiting for this to happen since the second I saw you two in the same room together!”
“You…what?”
“Well, duh, have you even heard the way he talks about you? The emotions in his voice? All of your bickering is clearly just covering up for the way you two want to be all over each other.”
Apollo makes a noncommittal noise, trying really hard not to argue. Because–again–he’s trying to be convincing here, and he supposes having his coworkers accept that him and Klavier dating was an inevitability helps his cause. But he’s still surprised by how easily it’s happened, and how little he’s had to try and actively fool them.
“C’mon now, give the man some breathing space,” comes a voice from the door, and Apollo, for once in his life, breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Phoenix Wright. The newly-rebadged attorney ambles in, battered backpack thrown across his shoulder, and shoots Apollo a grin as he passes. “After all, I’m sure he doesn’t want any more scrutiny than he’s been subject to already.”
This is suspicious, coming from Wright. Apollo can count on one hand the number of times he’s been genuinely helpful.
He narrows his eyes, on guard once again. “What’s your price?” he asks, resisting the urge to point as though in court.
“What do you mean?” Wright replies, easy smile stretching across his face. “No price. I don’t want anything from you.”
But Apollo isn’t going to give up that easily. “You’re never just… nice, like that. Why aren’t you at the very least telling me that it’s highly unprofessional for me to be caught out at dinner with someone who’s supposed to be my work colleague, who I’m supposed to have a purely professional relationship with?”
Wright sighs and rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck as he settles into his seat (recently vacated by Trucy). “Okay, look, I honestly could care less what you and Gavin get up to. As long as it doesn’t affect your work life, I am genuinely not interested. I can tell that there’s something you’re not telling me about this whole thing, but frankly I do not have the mental energy to expend on figuring it out.”
Great. So Wright’s not being kind deliberately, he just doesn’t care. At least he’s being straightforward about it for once. That makes a change from pretty much every other interaction Apollo’s had with him.
“Wait, Apollo’s hiding something about his relationship?” Athena butts in, turning her attention to Wright. “Mr Wriiiight, you’ve gotta help us figure out what!”
“Nope,” Wright responds, and Apollo breathes a sigh of relief. He finally manages to make his way over to his desk and put his stuff down, glad that at least this marks a constant of organization in his life.
As he pulls out his phone from his bag, Apollo feels it buzz faintly. He quickly checks his messages and finds that, as agreed upon, Klavier had texted him the schedule of all of the upcoming interviews and events he’d been pulled into appearing at. It’s a pretty packed timeline–Apollo realizes he probably won’t be able to appear in court anytime soon, and feels a pang of disappointment. He quickly shakes that away, confused, as he remembers that hey, if you’re pretending to be dating him, you’re probably going to see him a lot more often than just the regular court dates, right?
He types out a pretty standard Thanks, in response, and when that doesn’t seem like quite enough, he follows that with I’ll make sure to add these into my calendar.
Klavier quickly replies with a reassurance that he doesn’t want Apollo to worry too much about them, and that they’d both agreed that their jobs came first. Which is…fair, he supposes, because Klavier’s been really all in on the idea that Apollo shouldn’t have to spend too much of his time and effort with this charade they’re concocting.
However, because he knows Klavier well enough at this point, he also knows that Klavier’s definitely hiding how much Apollo putting in an appearance at some interview or other would help their cause. So he picks a nearby date from the calendar and makes a note to pick up some flowers or something and go surprise him.
He’s about to message Klavier back with his plans, but muffled giggling stops him short. Apollo looks up from his phone to find Trucy crouching beside Athena’s desk, the two of them huddled together and very obviously watching him. When they realize he’s caught them, they don’t even try to look innocent–instead, they just snicker some more and disperse, leaving Apollo wondering if he’s the only person in this office who thinks that it’s not normal to be this invested in your coworkers’ love lives.
Well, him and Mr Wright, apparently. That’s a surprise.
Nonetheless, he puts his phone to the side and opens up his most recent trial’s evidence folder–there’s still a few loose ends to tie up and he’s not going to lose productivity just because his fake relationship with his rival prosecutor is plastered across all the gossip websites in the country.
Apollo’s perhaps miscalculated how much attention this whole celebrity boyfriend thing would get him, actually. He thought he would be safe to head out to grab lunch from his favorite local food truck (some slightly-too-fancy roast pork sandwich, a bit of an indulgence but if nothing else he’s going to be getting a heck of a lot of free dinners out of Klavier over the coming months), but the second he’d left the office he’d felt as though he’d had eyes on him. Apollo had ducked into a nearby convenience store to get a moment of respite, only to nearly trip over an entire rack of magazines when he realized they contained front-page photos of him and Klavier outside his apartment.
So instead of the food trucks, he’d bought a sandwich and a soda from the convenience store (and maybe a magazine too, shut up, he needs the physical proof that yes, he had in fact kissed Klavier Gavin). He’d also bought a pair of nondescript sunglasses and a baseball hat, in the hopes that he’d have a good enough disguise to head back to the office without being recognized.
What Apollo Justice had failed to account for, however, was the fact that unlike in the movies, paparazzi aren’t stupid.
“Hey! Hey Justice! It’s you, isn’t it? I just have a quick question–” shouts a man with a microphone into Apollo’s ear, and Apollo speedwalks away from his prodding. It’s no luck, though, as around the next corner is a woman in a bright raincoat, holding a camera.
“How long have you been dating Klavier Gavin?” she asks, and Apollo’s escape tactics aren’t quite as good this time. He stumbles over his words, and then over his own feet, as he tries to weave around her.
“I, uh…look, can I not just–I have a job to–” This is his absolute worst nightmare. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know why he’s been pretending he can.
Suddenly, a shadow falls across his path. Then, an arm wraps around his shoulders, and he almost panics before he recognizes the scent of high-end cologne that always precludes the presence of the man himself, Klavier Gavin.
“I don’t appreciate your questioning of my partner, Miss…?” he begins, and Apollo would be lying if he claimed that he didn’t relax into Klavier’s arm a little when he realized that the rockstar had everything under control. Even the paparazzo–or amateur journalist, really, by the look of it, seemed thrown for a loop.
“Er…Swift,” she answers, before realizing that doing so was not the best course of action. Before she can run, however, Klavier’s speaking again.
“Fräulein Swift, listen to me. Apollo Justice did not sign up to be harassed at all hours of the day by you and your compatriots. If you would kindly leave him alone, especially while he is clearly trying to go about his typical workday, it would be best for all of us, ja? ”
Ms Swift nods, jerkily, and glances between Apollo and Klavier, as if weighing the risk of snapping a picture right then. She clearly decides it isn’t worth it, however, and turns back the way she came, doing an awkward half-jog to get away from them as quickly as possible.
Apollo looks over at Klavier, who is glaring after her in a way that he’s only seen a couple times before. The arm around him is tight, Klavier’s long fingers pressing creases into Apollo’s white button-down.
He’s about to question why, exactly, Klavier is here, before he notices the lunch bag swinging from Klavier’s other hand (obnoxious, purple, Gavinners-branded) and puts the pieces together–Klavier must also be out at lunch, and there’s a possibility that he’d decided to head over to the Wright Agency to keep up appearances.
“Come on,” Klavier says, turning down a dim alleyway and pulling Apollo along with him. “I know of a place we will not be disturbed.”
If anybody else had tried to guide him down an alley, Apollo would have likely dropped everything to punch them out. But Klavier had just shown that he was able to intimidate the paparazzi, and Apollo doesn’t really want to take out his best ally in the fight against the tabloids. So he lets Klavier lead the way to a tiny hole-in-the-wall ramen shop, where the cramped atmosphere and dim lighting disguise the identities of any of the patrons.
A waitress brings over two menus, and Apollo glances despairingly at his sandwich meal deal in its crinkled plastic bag.
“Save that for tomorrow,” Klavier advises, and pushes his own lunchbox aside. “I will pay for lunch, seeing as you’ve just had yet another awful experience with the press. For which I must apologize, you know, so please, order whatever you would like.”
“Hey, no, you don’t have to–I was just being stupid, clearly I shouldn’t have expected them to have calmed down by now,” Apollo protests, but he’s already opened his menu and can’t quite stop his mouth watering at the pictures in the booklet. Okay, maybe he’ll take Klavier up on his totally unnecessary apology. You know, this time.
“Nein , I knew this was going to be a bad idea. Your life is already disrupted enough already, we should just call the whole thing off–”
“Klavier,” Apollo says firmly, putting down the menu and meeting the prosecutor’s eyes across the table. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am volunteering for this?”
Klavier’s eyes widen. He looks suitably chastised.
“Okay, ja, I get it. No more offering to stop it all now, then.”
“No more offering to stop this whole thing at all.”
“Right,” Klavier says, and drops his gaze to his menu. He then looks back up at Apollo, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth.
“...what is it?” Apollo asks, because he knows that this can’t be good.
“Oh, nothing. I was simply wondering if you were going to keep that all on indoors,” Klavier inquires, his smile slowly becoming more pointed and shark-like as he talks. It’s a terrible look on him, Apollo thinks. Then, Klavier’s words hit him, as does the realization that he never removed his awful, terrible disguise.
“Oh, fu–” he begins, and rips the baseball cap and sunglasses off.
The dim ramen shop instantly becomes about three times brighter, turning into an actually cozy-looking little lunch spot.
Muffled laughter, from the other side of the table. Klavier has a hand over his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide his mirth.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice that you still had the glasses on, Herr Forehead!” The nickname feels like a return to normalcy, somehow–a sign that everything is going to be alright. For the first time since the previous evening, Apollo starts to properly relax.
He’s not going to analyze what that means at all.
“Shut up, I was distracted! Anyone would be distracted if they weren’t used to cameras in their face!”
“Where did you even get those, they’re so bad, they look like they’ve been sitting on the shelf since 2007 at least.”
Apollo picks up the sunglasses and studies them. To his annoyance, he discovers that Klavier’s right–they’re hilariously outdated.
“Look, I was desperate.”
“Clearly. You know, I’ll buy you some sunglasses if you think they’ll work–I can’t have the press going round thinking that I don’t have standards with the people I’m dating”
Apollo rolls his eyes. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”
Instead of a lighthearted reaction, Klavier looks over at him with wide, hurt eyes. “Schatz, don’t say that about yourself.”
“I…what?”
“Negative self-talk is really unhelpful for self-image. You can’t say that me dating you indicates a lack of standards on my part. If you talk about yourself as though you’re not worth anything, you’ll start feeling as though you aren’t worth anything either.”
Apollo exhales. “Geez, Klav, I didn’t expect all the overdone therapy lines from you.”
“They’re important,” Klavier protests, before freezing mid-thought, as though his brain’s just now catching up on what Apollo’s said. “Wait… Klav?”
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“It’s just, uhhhh.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out, was maybe feeling a bit too comfortable with the idea that he’s dating Klavier. “I thought that having nicknames makes us sound closer?”
Klavier is, very obviously, holding back a smile. “So you admit that you actually like it when I call you Herr Forehead?”
“Urk–!” If he were in court, Apollo swears that he would feel the same kind of hit as when the judge inflicts a penalty upon him.
Luckily, he’s saved from the rest of the conversation by their lunch arriving–two big, steaming bowls of noodles and broth. He inhales the aroma and picks up the chopsticks, still not quite believing that his brief lunch outing had turned into…well, this.
Speaking of lunch, he’s definitely going to be late back to the office. He contemplates texting Athena and Mr Wright to let them know, before deciding that they deserve to suffer a bit wondering if he’s been abducted by some sort of celeb news coalition. Serves them right for ambushing him.
“So,” Apollo begins, now that he’s thinking of his messages again. “You’ve got a lot of interviews lined up, I see.”
Klavier hmms his affirmation around a mouthful of ramen, and elaborates once he’s done chewing. “It’s pretty typical for what I used to see back with the band–but it hasn’t been like that in a while.”
“How did you even manage to get any writing done, between all that?”
“It was a challenge, definitely. I used to stay up all night because the only quiet time I’d get was when everyone else was asleep–and then I’d lock myself in the recording studio and come out with some demos. There’s a lot of old photos of me passed out under a desk on a beanbag chair while everyone else argues about the direction of the album.”
Apollo’s never really heard Klavier talk about the ins and outs of his role in the band before. “So you were the main songwriter, then?”
“Sort of. Daryan and I split a lot of the writing credits, but we didn’t often work together. I’d start off a song and he’d finish it, or I’d finish something he’d done the beginning of.”
“Sounds…complicated.” Apollo can tell, based on the way Klavier’s hand has bunched up around his chopsticks, that remembering the role Daryan Crescend had played in his life isn’t the easiest topic of conversation. He takes the opportunity to guide the discussion back to more solid ground:
“So, what do you need me to do for all these appearances, then?”
Klavier furrows his brows. “Was? Oh, no, nein, nothing at all. They’ve only booked me, so you don’t have to be there at all.”
“But…isn’t that a little strange, when the reason they’re interested in you again is because you’re supposedly dating me?”
“Not really–I can just talk about you to the press. Yes, they tried to get you involved, but I insisted that I should handle all of it.”
“Klavier,” Apollo says sternly. “I thought I told you that this won’t work unless we both participate in…whatever they want from us.”
Klavier’s chopsticks click against the side of the bowl as he puts them down. “Ja , perhaps, but this isn’t something I’d be willing to drag anyone into, even if…” he trails off, wary of watchful eyes. “You saw how they were just now. I’ve been prepared for that, I’ve been living with that for years. You’ve just been thrown in the deep end, and if there’s something I can do to lessen that load…”
Apollo sighs. Klavier’s making sense, sure, but he hates that it’s necessary for him to do this.
They finish their meals in relative quiet, pondering their situation. Finally, Klavier pays the bill (Apollo attempts to protest, but a stern glance from his dining partner reminds him of the terms of their agreement), and they slip out back into the shaded alleyway.
It seems as though none of the paparazzi have followed them or learned their location while they’d been eating, and Apollo breathes a sigh of relief at this realization. Klavier takes note and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to say:
“I don’t want to take any chances with your safety–allow me to escort you back to the office, ja? ”
Apollo gathers his senses enough to nod, accepting the ride, despite the way Klavier’s proximity seems to be doing strange things to his ability to think clearly.
Klavier leads the way through back alleys to a space Apollo eventually recognizes as the side entrance to the courthouse car park.
However, all of Apollo’s goodwill evaporates as he realizes that accepting a ride from Klavier Gavin, on a bright, sunny day, means…
“Oh, no,” he says, watching Klavier confidently approach his shiny, purple motorcycle and pull two helmets from a compartment. Klavier turns to him, grinning. He definitely knows what he’s doing.
“How is this supposed to help us avoid the press? Apollo asks, as a helmet is pressed into his hands. Klavier just grins wider.
“It won’t, but it gives us another chance to control the narrative–and plus, this is the best way to get across LA, hands down.”
“I’m really not so sure about that,” Apollo remarks, weighing his options:
- Turn around and walk back to the office. Pros: Don’t have to ride on a motorcycle. Cons: near-inevitable paparazzi ambush
- Beg a ride off of someone else when they leave the courthouse. Pros: Inconspicuous mode of travel. Cons: Being a public nuisance and the mortifying ordeal of talking to fellow legal associates who definitely make more money than you
- Take Klavier’s offer of a ride. Pros: Easiest option, no paparazzi ambush. Cons: Motorcycle, proximity to Klavier Gavin.
He frowns, and then groans, throwing his hands in the air. “Okay, fine. But next time you’re bringing your car–I know you have one.”
Klavier’s still smiling. “Next time?”
“Shut up,” Apollo responds, and follows Klavier in jamming the helmet on his head and swinging a leg over the motorbike.
“You’re going to want to hold on,” Klavier warns him, and half a second after Apollo tentatively loops his arms around Klavier’s waist, the prosecutor starts the bike and tears out of the courthouse at the very-reasonable-actually speed of fifteen miles per hour.
This doesn’t stop Apollo from clinging on for dear life, as the feeling of wind rushing past them makes the journey seem to be taking place at supersonic speeds rather than whatever Klavier (eternal paragon of speed limits) is probably actually driving at.
He doesn’t take much note of the surroundings on the way back to the office, more preoccupied with trying to stay on the bike and not strangle Klavier (harder than it seems). He barely even notices that they’ve stopped moving until Klavier clears his throat and Apollo blinks his eyes open to see the familiar stretch of pavement outside the Wright Agency.
“You can let go of me now,” Klavier says, and Apollo can tell just by the way he says that that he’s choking back laughter. He shakes himself and jumps off of the motorcycle, releasing his chokehold on Klavier and wincing as his muscles finally relax once he’s back on solid ground.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it? Though I must say that I prefer not to be held quite so tightly when I’m trying to concentrate on driving,” Klavier quips, and Apollo rolls his eyes, pulling the spare helmet up off of his head.
“You’re never getting me on that thing ever again,” he replies instead, and Klavier chuckles.
“It’s not so bad once you know what you’re getting into. And, of course, if you keep your eyes open.”
“How did you know I–” Apollo begins, then realizes that his total lack of awareness of them reaching their destination might have given away the fact that he’d spent the whole journey decidedly not looking at anything they’d been passing.
“Lucky guess,” Klavier responds, and then glances around the area. Apollo’s still not as good at parsing their surroundings as he is, but he’s starting to notice the odd way that light seems to reflect from certain well-sheltered locations around them.
“Here,” he says, handing Klavier the helmet that he’d been holding, and hesitating for half a second. Then, he takes decisive action, pushing Klavier’s helmet visor up and leaning in to gently kiss him on the cheek, trying so, so hard to suppress his instinct to lean away or make a face or overthink literally everything about the situation.
“Danke,” Klavier whispers as he pulls away, doubtless having recognized why Apollo had taken this action.
“See you soon?” Apollo asks when he steps back fully, leaving the statement purposefully vague. He doesn’t know how Klavier does this, knowing that at any time any one of his public conversations could be being surveyed. He’s only lived in this state for just over a day and he hates it.
“Ja, soon. Until then, Herr Forehead!” Klavier replies, tucking the spare helmet away into the seat compartment where it had emerged from and waving sunnily in Apollo’s direction, before slamming his helmet visor closed and motoring away down the street.
Apollo takes one final glance around, and decides to hurry back inside, not trusting the journalists to stay away once they realize that Klavier, more experienced in throwing them off his trail, is no longer protecting him.
Back inside the office, Apollo feels Trucy and Athena’s eyes on him.
“Soooo….” says Athena, and Apollo huffs.
“No,” he says, and opens up his laptop with possibly more force than the action really requires.
“C’mon, Polly, we were just gonna ask how your lunch date went!”
He glances up, frustrated.
“It wasn’t a–”
…hmm. He can’t really say that, can he.
“It wasn’t supposed to be a date,” he rephrases, only for Trucy to giggle at him.
“Pollyyy, isn’t every outing with your boyfriend a date?”
“Not when he wasn’t supposed to be there! We just…had to avoid some people. I hadn’t even meant to stay out so long!”
“Oh, shh, Trucy, it’s sweet,” Athena butts in, twirling her long red hair around her finger. “Apollo obviously isn’t used to dating someone as nice as Klavier. We should just let him be!”
“Finally, ” Apollo sighs, before Athena finishes her thought.
“We can just go down to the Prosecutor’s Office and bug Klavier for all the juicy details!”
It’s the day of the first scheduled interview Klavier had texted him, and Apollo’s sitting on a public bus with a bouquet of flowers.
He’s well aware of the looks he’s getting; the muffled whispers and sideways glances. He’s counted three people so far who’ve not-so-stealthily snapped photos of him. But he just clutches the flowers a little tighter, readjusts his posture, and stares straight ahead, trying to remind himself that this is deliberate, that for appearances’ sake he should want the attention.
He’s still glad when the bus rounds the corner nearest to the upscale office building where Klavier’s record label resides and he’s able to make his escape, though.
Apollo’s expecting to have to pass some sort of security screening, once he finally locates the correct floor. However, when he walks into the reception area of Starpower Records, the woman behind the desk looks up, takes stock of the bouquet he’s holding and studies his hair, and smiles.
“Justice, right? Go right on in–he’s in room 3E, right down the hallway to your left.”
“Um, I–” Apollo’s caught off-guard.
“You’re bringing those for Klavier, right? That’s very sweet of you to surprise him like that–he deserves someone as kind as you after everything he’s been through.”
“I…yeah. He does,” Apollo agrees, the words feeling like lead in his throat. He’d gotten so caught up in the way the media had been harassing him that he hadn’t really thought about Klavier’s side of things–and the way that he really did deserve someone to care about him properly. Someone who wasn’t just pretending for the cameras.
But Apollo would still consider Klavier a friend, wouldn’t he? And he hoped that Klavier saw things that way, too. Even beyond their false relationship, there’s a foundation of trust, built upon the way they’d leaned upon each other throughout the course of several harrowing court cases to find the truth.
He can’t linger in the foyer any more–he’s attracting strange looks, standing there staring at his bouquet as though it holds the answers to life, the universe, and everything. Apollo smiles awkwardly and heads through the door the receptionist had indicated when he’d arrived, glancing at the numbers on the solid oak doors along the hallway.
3B…3C…3D…okay, here we go, 3E. He takes a deep breath and gently raps his knuckles against the door, tentatively swinging it open when he doesn’t hear a reply.
He sees the interviewer first, glancing up in irritation as he steps into the room. She’s got practical brown hair, swept into a simple bun at the crown of her head. It contrasts starkly with Klavier’s intricate braids, which even in the dimly-lit space manage to shine where they reflect what light there is.
Klavier, for his part, brightens the second he spots Apollo coming through the door.
“Schatz!” he exclaims, standing and casting aside the notepad he’d seemingly been scrawling notes into. “I thought I told you that you didn’t have to come today!”
Okay, showtime, Apollo, he thinks to himself, and puts on his best lovestruck smile. “I know, but I thought I’d surprise you–you’re working so hard, and I worry that you forget to take breaks to appreciate the small things from time to time.”
That’s true enough, actually–after the Misham trial, Apollo had noticed Klavier throwing himself into his work more and more. He’s not really one to criticize anyone else’s work ethic, but he’d overheard Mr Wright on the phone with the Chief Prosecutor a few times, and knew that when Miles Edgeworth was worrying, there was some merit to his concern.
“Are these…” Klavier asks, indicating towards the flowers. Apollo holds them out, tentatively.
“I didn’t know what exactly you’d like–” Wait. Shit. “I mean, I–know you don’t really have a preference, per se, but these ones made me think of you with how um…purple they are, so I thought–”
Klavier’s lips stretch into a small smile, and he leans closer. “They’re perfect. Just like you, of course.” Well aware of the presence of the interviewer, he dips his head to peck Apollo on the lips, a motion which definitely doesn’t short-circuit Apollo’s brain for the brief second they’re in contact.
“You must be Apollo Justice,” interrupts the interviewer, saving Apollo from having to think up a good, comprehensible reply to Klavier’s compliment. Klavier drapes his free arm around Apollo, fielding the question.
“Ja, of course, let me introduce you! Jo, this is Apollo, my lovely boyfriend. Apollo, this is Joanna Lyst, from the Record Review. As you know, Jo’s been asking me some questions about my recent music–”
“Oh, never mind the music, now that Apollo’s here this is so much better! If you wouldn’t mind, of course–I’ve got some questions for the both of you.” Joanna looks over the moon to see them both in the same room, and who would blame her? With the sudden first exclusive interview of Klavier Gavin and his mysterious boyfriend, it’s like the scoop of the century’s fallen into her lap.
“I uh…guess that would be alright, if you’re okay with it, Klav?” Apollo questions, turning towards Klavier. He’d kind of known that this outcome was expected, but now that it’s happening he finds himself looking for reassurance anywhere he can get it.
Klavier squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, and Apollo fights the urge to lean into the touch.
“Ja, I think that’s fine–there’s a bit of hearsay going around about our relationship anyway, so it’ll be nice to clear the air.”
“Great!” Jo claps her hands together. “Let’s get started by–oh, Apollo, you can come sit over here, make yourself comfortable.”
She indicates the couch where Klavier’s notebook still lies abandoned, and Apollo takes a hesitant step in that direction. Klavier gives him a small smile, one that Joanna doesn’t notice, and it lends him the strength to keep going, to cross the room and sit down in what he hopes is a casual fashion.
Side-by-side on the expensive leather, Klavier and Apollo exchange glances as they really, really hope that they can pull this off.
“Let’s start with an easy one–how did you two meet? I know the press has put a lot of stuff out there already, but I want to hear it in your own words.”
Apollo nearly melts with relief. This, he can handle. As if in agreement, Klavier brushes the side of his pinky finger against Apollo’s leg.
“It’s a funny story, ja? Not at the time, but in retrospect. Apollo had been working for my brother, before everything happened with that situation. Of course, after Kristoph’s arrest, I flew back to the States from my tour, and on my first case back, who do I run into right outside of People Park? Only my brother’s former intern—and the person who, in my mind, was responsible for his conviction.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Apollo adds, just to seem involved in the conversation. “It was like seeing a ghost, because with the hair—Klavier just looked so much like Kristoph, and I’d spent months terrified that he’d break out of jail and somehow get his revenge on me for turning on him in court.”
He feels Klavier recoil at his side. “Schatz, you never told me that!”
Apollo shrugs. How should he react? What will the world read into this? “I…didn’t want you to worry about me,” is what he goes with, and it seems to garner him an appropriately sympathetic smile from Jo.
“That’s so sweet! Clearly you two care a lot about each other now, but that must have been a rocky start for your professional relationship.”
This time, Apollo feels confident enough to answer first. “Definitely. Klavier just wasn’t what I was expecting in court. My whole career up to that point had been all pretty standard cases, and in he comes with his chains and his logo and his air-guitaring…not to mention that our first case together was interesting, to say the least.”
Klavier chuckles good-naturedly. “What Apollo here is trying to avoid mentioning is how several key points in the case hinged on some intimate evidence.”
“Klav, you can’t say that! They’ll get the wrong idea!” Apollo shakes his head. “There were a few…uh…undergarments in evidence, and they ended up being pivotal to the resolution of the case.”
Across from them, Jo looks up from her notes and raises an eyebrow. Apollo smiles half-heartedly.
“It made sense at the time.”
“I’m sure it must have done. So you have a few cases together, face each other in court a few times…and then, of course: the big one. The Misham trial. Do you mind telling me a bit about it, especially about how you two worked together right at the very end?”
The topic isn’t too surprising, but Apollo still tenses. However, Klavier must have been asked about this before, because he has a response ready.
“Of course—I couldn’t have made it through that trial without Apollo’s help. There were a few moments there where I was questioning everything I thought I knew, and he just…was there, like a light in the darkness, guiding me towards the truth. Even when that truth wasn’t something I had ever wanted to accept.”
It’s Apollo’s turn to be taken aback—because he’d never heard how much Klavier had depended on him that day firsthand. “Klavier…” he breathes, looking up at his fake boyfriend’s steady gaze.
Klavier smiles in his direction. “I never got the chance to tell you how thankful I was for that, schatz.”
“It was just what was right. What I had to do,” he says, and he can feel Jo’s attention on them.
“And how did this transform into a romantic relationship? What happened there?” She’s almost on the edge of her seat, and Apollo’s a little worried at her enthusiasm. Still, he steadies himself and answers.
“It just happened slowly, I think. Looking back, I can’t pinpoint one precise moment. It’s just one of those…you look at them one day, and you’re hit with it, that you’ve been in love with them for a while, you know?”
Jo laughs. “I actually don’t, but I hope one day I can experience something like that!” She scribbles something in her notepad and turns to Klavier. “How about for you? Was there a specific moment?”
Klavier runs his fingers through his hair, looking thoughtful. “I would have to say…while I knew I was attracted to Herr Forehead here, I didn’t know the depth of my feelings until the first time we kissed. After that, it was just…blindingly obvious, ja? ”
“And when was that?” Jo’s getting bold, here, and Klavier obviously tenses for a split second. He shakes it off with a practiced motion, however, and Apollo’s not sure that anybody other than him would have noticed.
“Some things are just between us, Fräulein,” he rebuffs, and Jo shrugs her defeat.
“Okay, I get it! Keep your secrets. But I do have a final question—how’s the new album coming, Klavier? And has Apollo inspired any of the tracks?”
“Well, it’s…slow progress,” Klavier admits, and Apollo fights the urge to put a hand on his knee in a show of reassurance. Then he remembers that they’re supposed to be dating, and reaches out to do it anyway. That’s a dating thing, right? He’s been overthinking this for so long now that he’s not even sure.
“Klavier’s got a whole process for his writing,” Apollo says, hoping that he’s right. “Unfortunately, I’m really not a big fan of the genres he’s into.”
Jo gasps. “So you’re saying you don’t like his music?”
“It’s just…not really my style? It’s fine. I like what he’s doing these days better than anything he did with the Gavinners. But I just have a different taste in music.”
Klavier’s arm comes up around his shoulders. “I don’t hold it against him. We can’t all have good taste.” He winks at Jo, breaking the tension. She laughs, and jots down a few more notes in her book. There’s a few moments of silence, during which Apollo and Klavier trade glances and Apollo tries his best not to look at the clock.
“Well, that about wraps things up,” Jo finally says, twirling her pen around her fingers. The motion is a little mesmerizing, after Apollo’s been focusing so hard on keeping their whole story straight. Beside him, Klavier sighs and stretches his arms above his head, his back curving and popping quietly.
“Thank you for your time, Frau Lyst–and apologies for any disruption to your planned schedule.”
“Oh no, no, no apologies necessary! It was fantastic to get to talk with you both–and especially you, Apollo! It must feel nice to be able to set the story straight, huh?”
Apollo startles, slightly. “Uh–yeah, totally. Nice to not have everyone just making stuff up about us.”
Instead, we’re the ones making everything up, he doesn’t say.
“Anyway!” Klavier gives his sunniest smile and puts his hand on Apollo’s shoulder, once again. Apollo’s starting to get the feeling that he’s going to be doing this a lot. “I’m sure that Herr Forehead here has important business to attend to back at his Agency, and I myself cannot resist the siren song of my long-postponed paperwork from my latest trial.”
He turns to Apollo. “Schatz, do you need a ride?”
“The bus fare from here isn’t too bad, so–”
“So yes, you do.”
Apollo bristles. “I never–!”
Klavier gives a dramatic shake of his head and glances over to where Jo Lyst is still hovering nearby. “You see what I have to deal with? I adore how self-sufficient Apollo is, but it makes it very hard for me to make spontaneous gestures.”
“Oh fine, okay then, as long as you didn’t drive the motorcycle.”
“I can promise you,” Klavier says, in the tone of voice that means he’s about to get away with something and is feeling incredibly smug about it, “it isn’t the motorcycle.”