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(the way a german accent slips into those words so effortlessly, how it grabs attention with such a commanding voice, it far more than startles apollo. their two voices may sound completely different, this one is much more lively, almost cheerful. but that doesn't stop apollo from losing his grip on his bags, dropping to the floor with a heavy thud as he whips around in a flash of horror. there's a brief memory of skating til his legs burned, an icy anger threatening he'll never make a program.
it's gone as soon as it arrives, only having a few months worth of the devil guiding your every move, and the memories fade quickly. not nearly as awful as some of his more seasoned skaters. apollo got over these things quickly, the feeling of shame at being used and tossed aside stung far more than any memory.
once the fear passes from his mind, it fades to awe. he'd almost forgotten kristoph had a brother, hardly talking about him aside from a snide remark about his flawed and imperfect skating. he couldn't deny curiosity, not after someone so revered spoke so horribly about his own brother. it hardly took long to find programs of the angel on ice. thousands of girls uploaded his videos, complete with screams of joy and sighs love infatuation. apollo only remembers being completely mesmerized. his skating was anything but imperfect, his moves were fluid and clean, every emotion able to be passed on to the entire crowd. and, yeah, maybe his face wasn't so bad. he remembers so clearly, attempting to skate like that once, with a smile on his face and his heart on his blades.
he also remembers the deadly stare and enraged threat to look for another coach if he ever pulls a stunt like that again. an imprint on his mind like that did stick, quite against his wishes. moving on was hard at best, especially with no coaches with the knowledge or patience for a "broken skater". he'd never even performed, but with just that one fact of his first coach, and all of it was ruined from then on.
it hits him rather belatedly that klavier gavin is speaking to him, snapping out of his daze with a few blinks and a quick shake of his head. that one line, and already apollo can tell he's leagues better than kristoph. probably best not to mention that. he stands there stupidly with his mouth open for a few longer moments, face falling and simply hoisting his bags off the floor.) ... no. You need it more.
[Apollo's dumbfounded face is a dead giveaway...the face of someone who knew exactly who he was, either through his own fame or his brother's infamy. The way those large brown eyes seem to pierce right through him, mouth ajar and frozen like a zombie, Klavier can't help but feel a little bashful at the attention. Not that his outward appearance ever SHOWED it, flashing a winner's smile to him and leaning over the edge of the rink once more.]
Objection.
That's a funny assumption to make when you don't even know me. How do you know I wasn't just finishing up?
[He'll give pause for the man to answer as he makes his way to the cutout of the rink siding, where the skaters all stepped out onto the ice.]
(it's a challenge, he realizes, to not be swept up and taken in by that all too charming voice. it's soft, a kind of gentle he rarely hears, not invasive or demanding in the slightest, and he would even dare to say slightly teasing. it would be so simple, to just stay there, skate for as long as he wants with that warm voice coaxing him into it so easily.
no. what is he doing, letting himself get lost in the voice alone? this is still klavier gavin, and whether he's his former coach's brother or not, apollo refuses to sink to the level of his hormonal, screaming fans. he'll keep his composure, no matter how much it makes his heart swell that someone of his caliber actually gives a shit about him.
or at least. he hopes so. it's always better to err on the side of caution. for all he knows, the brother could just as easily have a twisted side as the elder. so he keeps his defenses up, back straight and not moving an inch towards the ice. even though it is tempting...) Then I'll leave you to your break, I guess.
(grabbing his gear and heading towards the door while praying that he won't try to somehow find a way to use that voice and smile to get him into the rink.)
[He'd never truly met Apollo. The man was only word of mouth from other people. Saying he was 'the last skater Kristoph trained'. 'He didn't even make it out onto the ice'. He saw pictures, of course, but the stars never quite aligned for a meeting. Maybe he should've sought him out to start...maybe that was an error on his part.
After all, no one knew Apollo's situation more than he did, in some respects.
Blue eyes glitter at him, clearly swept up in what can only be the most gentle, most anti-Kristoph personality he can put his finger on. In ways, he's glad for his brother's arrest. He's glad the clutches of the one he used to call trainer didn't leave marks that couldn't be healed.
Or at least, he hopes.]
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand.
[There's no hint of anger to his voice, flowing as fluidly as it always did.]
Do you not want to skate? That's why you came here, right?
(he's half tempted to turn around and argue klavier, despite none of his questions having even a speck of fight in them. he's just inquiring. curious. almost like he wants to help, but apollo knows how that's ended for him the last two times someone "just wanted to help". it is quite bizarre, a complete stranger, but such an influential name, more than his brother in most eyes, pushing so much into apollo's actions.
his head turns as he speaks, ready to spit fire at klavier for poking his nose in like this, face angered and almost hurt, and he'll forever deny that his voice cracked when he turned around to see that shining face of almost understanding.) Of--
(of course i do. but the words never leave his mouth, his hesitation stopping him. and in the end, maybe that's what frightened him the most. he didn't know if he wanted to skate. now or ever. all the times he's stepped on the ice for practice, always sensing the eyes judging him, criticizing him, whispering about him. it's hard, almost impossible to remember the last time he stepped on the ice... and felt like himself.
his face falls, eyes wide as he stares at the ground, trying to even force the words to come out. like he has been all these months. i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine with skating.) I...
[Apollo's silence speaks volumes, and Klavier can't help but smile wider at the boy's hesitance. As he thought, Justice's love of skating hadn't died like the rest of Kristoph's students, separating them both out from them. He understood far more than anyone would ever know.
Kristoph was a terrible teacher, and something Klavier had wanted to argue for so long. With the secret now public knowledge, there were still loose ends to tie up. There were still people to help.
It wasn't mending a bird's broken wing--he didn't want to 'fix' Apollo.
He just wanted to shove him out of the next once more, after he'd taken refuge in it.]
I'll take that as a confession!
[His feet are now on actual ground, having stepped through the barrier and onto the rubber like surface just beyond the rink. Thankfully, Apollo hadn't strayed too far--he could take that hand gently around the wrist and pull him forward.]
(it had all gone too fast, with apollo still dealing with his internal crisis of wondering whether or not he even wanted to skate anymore, and then klavier, bright and smiling, suddenly beginning to drag him over to the rink. he wasn't even able to fully process what was happening until it was already happening, the rink drawing closer and closer.
it's like he's in some kind of horror film and as soon as he steps on the ice, some monster (oddly in the form of kristoph gavin) will explode out of the ice and drag him to some hell.
maybe he's overreacting a bit internally. he tries, quite literally, to put his foot down, get klavier to stop for a moment, let him actually understand what's going on. give him an actual minute to breathe and find out his motives at the least.) H-Hey, wait, wh-what are you doing?
(why do you care at all is something he desperately wants to blurt out. but he'll hold his tongue. for now.)
[If it's a horror film to Apollo, it's an inspirational sports movie to Klavier, where the hero finally decides to step out of the shadow of his former boss and skate for himself, with the help of a (good-looking) fellow skater to really give him that last push. You know, the ones you take your kids to when they're athletes. Five stars out of five. At least 90% on Rotten Tomatoes.
But Apollo's resistance doesn't go with the flow of that imaginary plot, and so Klavier feels that wrist fight against his grip, notices that heel dig into the rubber as he tugs. Klavier was excitable at best, persistent at worst, but forcing was never part of his nature. His grip loosens, and he comes to a standstill right at the entrance to the rink. Their arms tethered across the empty space between them, Klavier's hold now reduced to his thumb and index finger, instead of his full grip.]
It's hard getting back out there, ja? You almost wonder if it'll reject you on principle. The fans, the ice, all of it.
(apollo would argue on an appropriate rating for that movie, possibly being praised too much, on the realistic aspect of it and how maybe there is no hero meant to go back on the ice. at least, not in any story where apollo somehow passes as the "hero".
but it's not klavier's lack of proper story telling that gets apollo's attention. it's his words. the way they resonate with something deep in him, locked away ever since his former devil of a coach was. the way they flow effortlessly, but quiet, gently approaching the subject instead of rude, hushed whispers.
the way he speaks to apollo as though he understands. not the cheap kind of understanding any prospective coaches made half assed attempted at. no, klavier speaks from experience, in a way apollo knows. his head raises, looking him in the eye, and for only a brief second, his face relaxes, willing to let klavier in to help.
but it's really not that simple. and it never has been. his face falls again, scrunching up as he recalls every painful memory over the past months. his free hand grips the upper arm of the one klavier is still linked to, but there's no tug or yank to tear them apart.) ... I don't know if it'll be fun anymore.
[Apollo, those movies are practically made for the underdog hero. And if you're anything, you're the one who's been beaten down to ground zero and is trying to work his way back up to the top. The very definition of being a hero in a sport.
He knows Apollo's hesitation more than he can ever say. He knows how fearful it is to step out onto the ice, wondering if you can even fully break away from such a tight grip that Kristoph seemed to keep on his pupils, whether it was from a distance or from behind bars. It was a battle Klavier fought every day being related to the man.
A smile meets Apollo's frown, blue eyes meet Apollo's brown. He doesn't move to pull him or push him, just keeps them tethered by the wrist, fingers looped around it as he can feel it shake with apprehension.]
...
[I don't know if it'll be fun anymore.
The thought catches his attention like wildfire, as if he knew exactly how to get Apollo's spirits up again.
Without even thinking (or if he did, he certainly didn't care too much about the protocol for such things, he smiles even wider.]
(being an underdog involves still being liked by people, along with having the skill and opportunity to get another chance. apollo doesn't find himself under any of those categories.
but somehow, saying out loud just how terrified he is to skate, how it's been a challenge to get on the ice and find any sort of enjoyment in his practices, it makes his heart ache and weep. almost enough that he feels himself about to start tearing up. he blinks furiously, silently demanding those tears never fall, not in front of someone like klavier.
the inquiry catches his attention, glancing at klavier still with a hint of caution in his eyes. he reflexively tenses up, curling back just an inch, but not enough for their hands to separate.
part of him doesn't really want them to.) What? Why?
[He doesn't let go, fingers securely looped around his wrist, only giving slightly when Apollo flinches back. His answer, however, is much simpler than what can be expected. There's nothing threatening about his smile, unlike a certain someone who shared his face, and his voice weaves a tapestry of silk through the air as he steps forward, no longer pulling him towards the ice.]
I want to spend time with you, is all.
[Is this an outing or a date, one may never know.]
When I'm not sure about something on the rink, I find the answer when I'm off.
(it's agony listening to that voice, how much effort it puts into being gentle and welcoming. how gentle klavier himself is, never forcing, only attempting to guide apollo to where he thinks is best. there's no hated orders being spat in his direction, no cold snide to just get over it. he wants to trust that voice, that man, more than anything, just let himself be taken in and cared for in a way klavier understands.
but he also understands that the last two times he trusted someone with a kind smile and sweet words, his life was turned upside down and left him with little more than nothing. no coach. no career. no chances.
even despite those words, of simply wanting to be with him, can he trust those? his eyes shoot up, wide and taken aback, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear.) You what?
(juts spend time with him? a complete stranger? any understanding apollo sensed is gone and replaced with nothing but confusion. but that dark little part of him that still sees the distrust in people, the part that always tries to keep a distance, that makes him tug his arm away (despite missing the touch), and glare at klavier.
but not nastily. no, more cautious and miffed than angered.) What, and you always ask out complete strangers who just happen to be broken skaters?
[All of which are familiar. Klavier trusted those words too, taking them until his brain broke under the pressure of his own brother's scolding and ridiculing. He'd almost given up skating, thinking about getting as far away from him as he possibly could. But his heart belonged on the ice, and if Apollo's gestures and voice (not his words, but his voice) were anything to go by, his did too.
A smile, humble and apologetic, spreads across his face as his hand draws back. Some vitriol was expected, he guesses.]
You're right. I'm being incredibly rude.
I'm Klavier Gavin--[Although a part of him is positive this man knows exactly who he is. He had an uncanny resemblance to someone...less than favourable.]--and you are...
[His hand, the one that had fingers looped around his wrist only moments before, extends out in gesture.]
(apollo swears his heart must have stopped the moment he saw klavier smile like that. how a face so like the devil's could exude nothing but kindness and genuine sympathy, he's not sure he'll ever understand.
everything klavier is makes it harder and harder for apollo to see any resemblance between the brothers aside from their looks. and if apollo was being honest... klavier was easily the more gorgeous of the two. that smile and that attitude, the openness and honesty he speaks with makes only one thought run through apollo's mind.
fuck, i'm gay.
his wrist grows cold with the absence of klavier's hand around it, leaving apollo almost wishing it would go back. but he snaps out of that daze quickly, hesitantly reaching his hand over to link with klavier's in a shake.) I'm... Apollo Justice.
(swear to god, if this guy makes an ice pun, i don't care how pretty he is, i'll punch him.)
Apollo Justice. [He practically sounds it out with his accent, letting it flow past his lips like water as he commits it to memory. He can just hear the announcer shouting that from the commentator's box, and it was perfect for a figure skater. His name alone gave him an image.
No ice pun, he's not exactly looking like a lawyer's assistant. But he will smile a bit at how...epic Apollo's name seemed to be. Then again, his parents weren't any better in the 'ridiculous' department.]
Well, then, Apollo Justice, now that we've exchanged names...that makes us acquaintances, ja? And spending time to get to know an acquaintance is what naturally comes after, isn't it?
[It's a little assertive of him, but there's something about this boy he can't quite shake just yet.]
(he's never heard just his name sound so gorgeous before, his heart nearly leaping into his throat as he hears his name resonate like a chorus. while klavier was thinking of an announcer shouting his name, apollo can only imagine klavier saying it over and over again, and god, he fell this hard after just meeting him.
but klavier is speaking to him, asking questions, and it would probably do apollo some good to snap out of his gaydream and listen. and... that part of him that can't trust anyone, not after all the lies and betrayal he's been through, that part of him gets defensive. he tenses up, just barely, hands on his bags tightening, staring at klavier with cautious and hesitant eyes.) Why are you so insistent on this? You don't even know if the feeling is mutual.
(... wait. he pauses, thinking over his words as they replay in his mind. that. definitely didn't come out right. a light pink blush washes over his cheeks, a bit of his walls coming down to be replaced with something more... embarrassed. frantic.) N-Not like that, I didn't mean it like that! I just meant I might not want to go on a date!
(shit. klavier never said it was a date. why did he say it was a date? IT WASN'T A DATE???? WAS IT????? HE DOESN'T KNOW. his blush only deepens, going from pink to red in moments, quickly losing his composure as he struggles to find the right words.) And it's not a date! This isn't a date, it's... it's just a meeting! Between acquaintances! That I might not want to go on!
(klavier please stop him before this boy stops breathing.)
[Klavier Gavin liked to think he was smooth. It's a bit ego-driven of him, one of his few faults if he had to choose one for himself, but he liked to go out with the reasoning that he's simply confident. And as such, he'd thought that line delivery was just spot on. A hitch in the road remedied and now with the real goal: to get Apollo to join him tomorrow for some time away from the lonely rink.
KLAVIER liked to think he was smooth. But APOLLO JUSTICE on the other hand...
Well, his eyes shoot wide open at the boy's outburst, a deer in the headlights as words came at him at a volume he would not have expected to come out of such a short statured man.
But it was there--right there, in that moment where Apollo had realized he'd blurted out too much of his internal monologue that Klavier's eyes practically lit up like the sun filled sky, each word Apollo tries to remedy making the man sink more and more into the pool of charmed. His smile doesn't deviate for a second the moment it appears on his lips, and actually, he's not even sure when that got there. The way it's splitting his face, he's absolutely enamoured by his struggle to find the correct words for this situation.]
A meet up between acquaintances, that's right.
[A date.]
Well, do you want to go with me?
[Klavier, a man who's had many dates with many men and women...felt his heart stop for just a moment, waiting for Apollo's answer.]
(apollo is glad, in certain cases, for what might be described as his "prickly personality". it means he doesn't always fall heads over heels for whoever or whatever, he as the sense to turn away from all that and continue his life without any issue. well. most of the time.
so it's here again, when apollo sees that smile on klavier's face, and he's sure any fan of the angel on ice would've screamed at a sight like that, a smile meant just for them. it should've been a dream come true.
apollo just saw it as another part of a nightmare. he's been here, working his ass off just for a little recognition for himself. he blunders once, and something about that smile just... stabs at apollo's heart, and not in the way one would think it might. he only sees someone mocking him again, focusing only on his mistakes and how oh so funny they must be to other people.
he straightens up, face firm and... maybe just a touch of pain in his eyes. he can't say he expected it from someone like klavier.) No. You haven't told me anything, where we'd go or do, or even why you're doing this. I don't know your reasons or motives or plans for any of this, and I'm not one of your screaming fans who'd do whatever you want at the drop of a hat.
(he pauses, just for a moment, that sinking feeling in his heart that he went too far. said too much, was a little too honest. his voice softens, expression going into something sadder, but only for the briefest of moments.) You... understand. And I'm grateful for that. But I'm done being dragged around by people on a whim for their own needs.
[His smile almost falters at that, and had he not already assessed Apollo's situation, he would have left it at that. He remembers how guarded he felt too, when he'd left Kristoph's teachings and was approached by Miles Edgeworth. A man with no soft edges or warmth to his voice, but a caring heart that was hidden beneath a rough exterior. He remembers being abrasive against him, rejecting any and all advances to be taken under the wing of another coach.
"You have something inside you that wants to get out and fly. I can help you." He'd said. And he'd shrugged it off.
Not that it did much. He ended up crawling back to the man before long.
The resistence from Apollo wasn't nearly so different, was it? And just like Miles Edgeworth had shown him, persistence and honesty would pay off. With his heart beating against his ribcage, he brushes a few fingers through his bangs, thinking it over.]
There's a rink on the other side of town I want to take you to. My motive? I just want to get your mind off of things. As for a screaming fan, even they get to decide yes or no, just like you.
[It hurt a little, but you learn to steel yourself when it comes to your public persona. If he hadn't, he'd have never survived on social media or any public outlet. There's countless Youtube comments of 'that fop' or questions about his sexuality. Which are true, but they have no right to make the assumption!]
I won't drag you, not anymore. But if you want me to take a lie detector test I'm sure we can arrange that to prove my motives are pure.
[He's joking, of course. Who has a lie detector up their sleeve?]
(in the short time he spent under phoenix wright's tutelage, he'd learned about his bracelet. about what it could do, how he could see so well. once he left, however, he didn't have anyone to teach him to hone it after that.
but he could always tell, somehow, when someone was lying or being dishonest to him. apollo had seen it time and time again as he approached different coaches for help, their hesitance to take him under their wing, their uncertainty on being able to trust him. he still chastises himself for not picking up on it sooner, instead trusting blindly and following orders believing he was doing the right thing.
here and now, though, it's different. it's almost instinctual, the way he reaches over to rub the skin under his bracelet, almost hoping there would be the familiar clench reacting to another person's anxiety.
his eyes grow wide, something vulnerable and bear underneath him, as if searching klavier for something. he was nervous, no doubt, apollo was just barely able to see it, but it wasn't because of the words. his hand grips around his wrist with the bracelet, pulling it up to his chest and apollo has to look away this time, so unused to seeing people so honest and genuine to him.) No, I... I believe you.
(almost without realizing, his eyes are misting over, just starting to form tears, leaving him to hurriedly blink them away. he doesn't need to be that vulnerable to klavier.) S-Sorry. I'm not... used to this.
[Klavier noticed the tears, but kept his expression as level and calm as he watched him. There's no notice of them on his face, and it's probably for the best. When you're feeling exposed and vulnerable, someone pointing out said weak spots is the last thing you need. It causes you to lash out like a scared animal, which might explain why Apollo had been so hostile in the first place. In the end, you had to protect yourself, and Klavier had been that way once.
Not to sound like a broken record, but he knows. He truly knows.]
Then can I have the honour of being your first act of human decency?
A meeting of acquaintances tomorrow at the ice rink downtown. No strings attached, and if you decide to not come, I'll understand. We can talk about everything or nothing.
But I hope you'll come. It's more fun to skate with someone in a public rink, ja?
(it's painful, almost, despite being something so warm and needed for apollo. the open displays of honesty, the courtesy to give him space, to treat him like a human being, not a broken one, but a skater who just needs this. a kindred soul, one who's been through the same sufferings, one who broke out of them, and genuinely from the bottom of his heart wants to do nothing but help.
apollo wishes he could hold back, keep at least a little bit of composure in front of klavier gavin of all people, but seeing someone care so deeply and openly, and there's nothing he can do to stop the slow stream of tears down his cheeks.
he truly deserves his nickname "angel on the ice". apollo is sure there's no human being on earth closer to one.) I-I'll come.
(he's scrubbing away viciously at his tears, nodding through them and giving klavier nothing but confirmation that this is what he wants more than anything.) I'd like to. A lot. I'll be there.
[In Klavier's eyes, that's all Apollo ever was. There's nothing to fix about a skater who'd just fallen down, is there? There's nothing wrong with a skater with plenty of potential and left in the dark. All you have to do is turn on the light.
Apollo's answer is soft, but it's enough to ease up Klavier's face even more than before, his smile practically sparkling and his eyes as bright as the sky. There's a reach for his bag, one he'd deposited when he'd arrived here, to pull out a tissue. Mostly for wiping his makeup off or in case his allergies started acting up again, but Apollo needed it far more than he did right now.
He extends it without hesitation, a silent offer to even help dab those eyes dry.]
It'll be fun, ja?
[That smile's nothing but genuine, moving to dab a spot his hands had missed.] A warning, it won't be my best performance. We'll mostly be skating in circles.
(to have this happen, to have klavier gavin actually treat him like he's a worthwhile skater and someone who deserves a chance, it gives apollo that small glimmer of hope. that honesty shooting straight to his heart, and for right now, he doesn't care if he's fallen for klavier or not.
he's just glad someone cares.
he tries to force down his sniffles and sobs, but it only makes them come out more hiccuped and pained than he actually feels. this is one of his lesser moments, easily, breaking down in front of a legendary skater just extending a kind hand. a hand that now has a tissue in it, and before apollo can even extend his own hand to take it, he suddenly finds it gently wiping away his tears. the only thing he can do in a situation like this is gaze, into what's easily been the kindest and sweetest face he's met with in weeks.
his breathing softens, almost completely stopping as calm, blue eyes look at him like he's all the world right now, and he finally snaps out of his daze, bright red-faced and blinking as he tries to divert his attention anywhere than the face he just spent five minutes staring at.) Y-Yeah right, even on your worst day, you could still win a gold, I'd watch you skate no matter what.
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it's gone as soon as it arrives, only having a few months worth of the devil guiding your every move, and the memories fade quickly. not nearly as awful as some of his more seasoned skaters. apollo got over these things quickly, the feeling of shame at being used and tossed aside stung far more than any memory.
once the fear passes from his mind, it fades to awe. he'd almost forgotten kristoph had a brother, hardly talking about him aside from a snide remark about his flawed and imperfect skating. he couldn't deny curiosity, not after someone so revered spoke so horribly about his own brother. it hardly took long to find programs of the angel on ice. thousands of girls uploaded his videos, complete with screams of joy and sighs love infatuation. apollo only remembers being completely mesmerized. his skating was anything but imperfect, his moves were fluid and clean, every emotion able to be passed on to the entire crowd. and, yeah, maybe his face wasn't so bad. he remembers so clearly, attempting to skate like that once, with a smile on his face and his heart on his blades.
he also remembers the deadly stare and enraged threat to look for another coach if he ever pulls a stunt like that again. an imprint on his mind like that did stick, quite against his wishes. moving on was hard at best, especially with no coaches with the knowledge or patience for a "broken skater". he'd never even performed, but with just that one fact of his first coach, and all of it was ruined from then on.
it hits him rather belatedly that klavier gavin is speaking to him, snapping out of his daze with a few blinks and a quick shake of his head. that one line, and already apollo can tell he's leagues better than kristoph. probably best not to mention that. he stands there stupidly with his mouth open for a few longer moments, face falling and simply hoisting his bags off the floor.) ... no. You need it more.
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Objection.
That's a funny assumption to make when you don't even know me. How do you know I wasn't just finishing up?
[He'll give pause for the man to answer as he makes his way to the cutout of the rink siding, where the skaters all stepped out onto the ice.]
I could use a break.
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no. what is he doing, letting himself get lost in the voice alone? this is still klavier gavin, and whether he's his former coach's brother or not, apollo refuses to sink to the level of his hormonal, screaming fans. he'll keep his composure, no matter how much it makes his heart swell that someone of his caliber actually gives a shit about him.
or at least. he hopes so. it's always better to err on the side of caution. for all he knows, the brother could just as easily have a twisted side as the elder. so he keeps his defenses up, back straight and not moving an inch towards the ice. even though it is tempting...) Then I'll leave you to your break, I guess.
(grabbing his gear and heading towards the door while praying that he won't try to somehow find a way to use that voice and smile to get him into the rink.)
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After all, no one knew Apollo's situation more than he did, in some respects.
Blue eyes glitter at him, clearly swept up in what can only be the most gentle, most anti-Kristoph personality he can put his finger on. In ways, he's glad for his brother's arrest. He's glad the clutches of the one he used to call trainer didn't leave marks that couldn't be healed.
Or at least, he hopes.]
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand.
[There's no hint of anger to his voice, flowing as fluidly as it always did.]
Do you not want to skate? That's why you came here, right?
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his head turns as he speaks, ready to spit fire at klavier for poking his nose in like this, face angered and almost hurt, and he'll forever deny that his voice cracked when he turned around to see that shining face of almost understanding.) Of--
(of course i do. but the words never leave his mouth, his hesitation stopping him. and in the end, maybe that's what frightened him the most. he didn't know if he wanted to skate. now or ever. all the times he's stepped on the ice for practice, always sensing the eyes judging him, criticizing him, whispering about him. it's hard, almost impossible to remember the last time he stepped on the ice... and felt like himself.
his face falls, eyes wide as he stares at the ground, trying to even force the words to come out. like he has been all these months. i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine with skating.) I...
(i don't know.)
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Kristoph was a terrible teacher, and something Klavier had wanted to argue for so long. With the secret now public knowledge, there were still loose ends to tie up. There were still people to help.
It wasn't mending a bird's broken wing--he didn't want to 'fix' Apollo.
He just wanted to shove him out of the next once more, after he'd taken refuge in it.]
I'll take that as a confession!
[His feet are now on actual ground, having stepped through the barrier and onto the rubber like surface just beyond the rink. Thankfully, Apollo hadn't strayed too far--he could take that hand gently around the wrist and pull him forward.]
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it's like he's in some kind of horror film and as soon as he steps on the ice, some monster (oddly in the form of kristoph gavin) will explode out of the ice and drag him to some hell.
maybe he's overreacting a bit internally. he tries, quite literally, to put his foot down, get klavier to stop for a moment, let him actually understand what's going on. give him an actual minute to breathe and find out his motives at the least.) H-Hey, wait, wh-what are you doing?
(why do you care at all is something he desperately wants to blurt out. but he'll hold his tongue. for now.)
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But Apollo's resistance doesn't go with the flow of that imaginary plot, and so Klavier feels that wrist fight against his grip, notices that heel dig into the rubber as he tugs. Klavier was excitable at best, persistent at worst, but forcing was never part of his nature. His grip loosens, and he comes to a standstill right at the entrance to the rink. Their arms tethered across the empty space between them, Klavier's hold now reduced to his thumb and index finger, instead of his full grip.]
It's hard getting back out there, ja? You almost wonder if it'll reject you on principle. The fans, the ice, all of it.
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but it's not klavier's lack of proper story telling that gets apollo's attention. it's his words. the way they resonate with something deep in him, locked away ever since his former devil of a coach was. the way they flow effortlessly, but quiet, gently approaching the subject instead of rude, hushed whispers.
the way he speaks to apollo as though he understands. not the cheap kind of understanding any prospective coaches made half assed attempted at. no, klavier speaks from experience, in a way apollo knows. his head raises, looking him in the eye, and for only a brief second, his face relaxes, willing to let klavier in to help.
but it's really not that simple. and it never has been. his face falls again, scrunching up as he recalls every painful memory over the past months. his free hand grips the upper arm of the one klavier is still linked to, but there's no tug or yank to tear them apart.) ... I don't know if it'll be fun anymore.
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He knows Apollo's hesitation more than he can ever say. He knows how fearful it is to step out onto the ice, wondering if you can even fully break away from such a tight grip that Kristoph seemed to keep on his pupils, whether it was from a distance or from behind bars. It was a battle Klavier fought every day being related to the man.
A smile meets Apollo's frown, blue eyes meet Apollo's brown. He doesn't move to pull him or push him, just keeps them tethered by the wrist, fingers looped around it as he can feel it shake with apprehension.]
...
[I don't know if it'll be fun anymore.
The thought catches his attention like wildfire, as if he knew exactly how to get Apollo's spirits up again.
Without even thinking (or if he did, he certainly didn't care too much about the protocol for such things, he smiles even wider.]
Are you free tomorrow?
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but somehow, saying out loud just how terrified he is to skate, how it's been a challenge to get on the ice and find any sort of enjoyment in his practices, it makes his heart ache and weep. almost enough that he feels himself about to start tearing up. he blinks furiously, silently demanding those tears never fall, not in front of someone like klavier.
the inquiry catches his attention, glancing at klavier still with a hint of caution in his eyes. he reflexively tenses up, curling back just an inch, but not enough for their hands to separate.
part of him doesn't really want them to.) What? Why?
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I want to spend time with you, is all.
[Is this an outing or a date, one may never know.]
When I'm not sure about something on the rink, I find the answer when I'm off.
[For the most part.]
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but he also understands that the last two times he trusted someone with a kind smile and sweet words, his life was turned upside down and left him with little more than nothing. no coach. no career. no chances.
even despite those words, of simply wanting to be with him, can he trust those? his eyes shoot up, wide and taken aback, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear.) You what?
(juts spend time with him? a complete stranger? any understanding apollo sensed is gone and replaced with nothing but confusion. but that dark little part of him that still sees the distrust in people, the part that always tries to keep a distance, that makes him tug his arm away (despite missing the touch), and glare at klavier.
but not nastily. no, more cautious and miffed than angered.) What, and you always ask out complete strangers who just happen to be broken skaters?
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A smile, humble and apologetic, spreads across his face as his hand draws back. Some vitriol was expected, he guesses.]
You're right. I'm being incredibly rude.
I'm Klavier Gavin--[Although a part of him is positive this man knows exactly who he is. He had an uncanny resemblance to someone...less than favourable.]--and you are...
[His hand, the one that had fingers looped around his wrist only moments before, extends out in gesture.]
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everything klavier is makes it harder and harder for apollo to see any resemblance between the brothers aside from their looks. and if apollo was being honest... klavier was easily the more gorgeous of the two. that smile and that attitude, the openness and honesty he speaks with makes only one thought run through apollo's mind.
fuck, i'm gay.
his wrist grows cold with the absence of klavier's hand around it, leaving apollo almost wishing it would go back. but he snaps out of that daze quickly, hesitantly reaching his hand over to link with klavier's in a shake.) I'm... Apollo Justice.
(swear to god, if this guy makes an ice pun, i don't care how pretty he is, i'll punch him.)
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No ice pun, he's not exactly looking like a lawyer's assistant. But he will smile a bit at how...epic Apollo's name seemed to be. Then again, his parents weren't any better in the 'ridiculous' department.]
Well, then, Apollo Justice, now that we've exchanged names...that makes us acquaintances, ja? And spending time to get to know an acquaintance is what naturally comes after, isn't it?
[It's a little assertive of him, but there's something about this boy he can't quite shake just yet.]
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but klavier is speaking to him, asking questions, and it would probably do apollo some good to snap out of his gaydream and listen. and... that part of him that can't trust anyone, not after all the lies and betrayal he's been through, that part of him gets defensive. he tenses up, just barely, hands on his bags tightening, staring at klavier with cautious and hesitant eyes.) Why are you so insistent on this? You don't even know if the feeling is mutual.
(... wait. he pauses, thinking over his words as they replay in his mind. that. definitely didn't come out right. a light pink blush washes over his cheeks, a bit of his walls coming down to be replaced with something more... embarrassed. frantic.) N-Not like that, I didn't mean it like that! I just meant I might not want to go on a date!
(shit. klavier never said it was a date. why did he say it was a date? IT WASN'T A DATE???? WAS IT????? HE DOESN'T KNOW. his blush only deepens, going from pink to red in moments, quickly losing his composure as he struggles to find the right words.) And it's not a date! This isn't a date, it's... it's just a meeting! Between acquaintances! That I might not want to go on!
(klavier please stop him before this boy stops breathing.)
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KLAVIER liked to think he was smooth. But APOLLO JUSTICE on the other hand...
Well, his eyes shoot wide open at the boy's outburst, a deer in the headlights as words came at him at a volume he would not have expected to come out of such a short statured man.
But it was there--right there, in that moment where Apollo had realized he'd blurted out too much of his internal monologue that Klavier's eyes practically lit up like the sun filled sky, each word Apollo tries to remedy making the man sink more and more into the pool of charmed. His smile doesn't deviate for a second the moment it appears on his lips, and actually, he's not even sure when that got there. The way it's splitting his face, he's absolutely enamoured by his struggle to find the correct words for this situation.]
A meet up between acquaintances, that's right.
[A date.]
Well, do you want to go with me?
[Klavier, a man who's had many dates with many men and women...felt his heart stop for just a moment, waiting for Apollo's answer.]
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so it's here again, when apollo sees that smile on klavier's face, and he's sure any fan of the angel on ice would've screamed at a sight like that, a smile meant just for them. it should've been a dream come true.
apollo just saw it as another part of a nightmare. he's been here, working his ass off just for a little recognition for himself. he blunders once, and something about that smile just... stabs at apollo's heart, and not in the way one would think it might. he only sees someone mocking him again, focusing only on his mistakes and how oh so funny they must be to other people.
he straightens up, face firm and... maybe just a touch of pain in his eyes. he can't say he expected it from someone like klavier.) No. You haven't told me anything, where we'd go or do, or even why you're doing this. I don't know your reasons or motives or plans for any of this, and I'm not one of your screaming fans who'd do whatever you want at the drop of a hat.
(he pauses, just for a moment, that sinking feeling in his heart that he went too far. said too much, was a little too honest. his voice softens, expression going into something sadder, but only for the briefest of moments.) You... understand. And I'm grateful for that. But I'm done being dragged around by people on a whim for their own needs.
(goddammit.)
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"You have something inside you that wants to get out and fly. I can help you." He'd said. And he'd shrugged it off.
Not that it did much. He ended up crawling back to the man before long.
The resistence from Apollo wasn't nearly so different, was it? And just like Miles Edgeworth had shown him, persistence and honesty would pay off. With his heart beating against his ribcage, he brushes a few fingers through his bangs, thinking it over.]
There's a rink on the other side of town I want to take you to. My motive? I just want to get your mind off of things. As for a screaming fan, even they get to decide yes or no, just like you.
[It hurt a little, but you learn to steel yourself when it comes to your public persona. If he hadn't, he'd have never survived on social media or any public outlet. There's countless Youtube comments of 'that fop' or questions about his sexuality. Which are true, but they have no right to make the assumption!]
I won't drag you, not anymore. But if you want me to take a lie detector test I'm sure we can arrange that to prove my motives are pure.
[He's joking, of course. Who has a lie detector up their sleeve?]
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but he could always tell, somehow, when someone was lying or being dishonest to him. apollo had seen it time and time again as he approached different coaches for help, their hesitance to take him under their wing, their uncertainty on being able to trust him. he still chastises himself for not picking up on it sooner, instead trusting blindly and following orders believing he was doing the right thing.
here and now, though, it's different. it's almost instinctual, the way he reaches over to rub the skin under his bracelet, almost hoping there would be the familiar clench reacting to another person's anxiety.
his eyes grow wide, something vulnerable and bear underneath him, as if searching klavier for something. he was nervous, no doubt, apollo was just barely able to see it, but it wasn't because of the words. his hand grips around his wrist with the bracelet, pulling it up to his chest and apollo has to look away this time, so unused to seeing people so honest and genuine to him.) No, I... I believe you.
(almost without realizing, his eyes are misting over, just starting to form tears, leaving him to hurriedly blink them away. he doesn't need to be that vulnerable to klavier.) S-Sorry. I'm not... used to this.
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Not to sound like a broken record, but he knows. He truly knows.]
Then can I have the honour of being your first act of human decency?
A meeting of acquaintances tomorrow at the ice rink downtown. No strings attached, and if you decide to not come, I'll understand. We can talk about everything or nothing.
But I hope you'll come. It's more fun to skate with someone in a public rink, ja?
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apollo wishes he could hold back, keep at least a little bit of composure in front of klavier gavin of all people, but seeing someone care so deeply and openly, and there's nothing he can do to stop the slow stream of tears down his cheeks.
he truly deserves his nickname "angel on the ice". apollo is sure there's no human being on earth closer to one.) I-I'll come.
(he's scrubbing away viciously at his tears, nodding through them and giving klavier nothing but confirmation that this is what he wants more than anything.) I'd like to. A lot. I'll be there.
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Apollo's answer is soft, but it's enough to ease up Klavier's face even more than before, his smile practically sparkling and his eyes as bright as the sky. There's a reach for his bag, one he'd deposited when he'd arrived here, to pull out a tissue. Mostly for wiping his makeup off or in case his allergies started acting up again, but Apollo needed it far more than he did right now.
He extends it without hesitation, a silent offer to even help dab those eyes dry.]
It'll be fun, ja?
[That smile's nothing but genuine, moving to dab a spot his hands had missed.] A warning, it won't be my best performance. We'll mostly be skating in circles.
[A joke, or an attempt at one.]
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he's just glad someone cares.
he tries to force down his sniffles and sobs, but it only makes them come out more hiccuped and pained than he actually feels. this is one of his lesser moments, easily, breaking down in front of a legendary skater just extending a kind hand. a hand that now has a tissue in it, and before apollo can even extend his own hand to take it, he suddenly finds it gently wiping away his tears. the only thing he can do in a situation like this is gaze, into what's easily been the kindest and sweetest face he's met with in weeks.
his breathing softens, almost completely stopping as calm, blue eyes look at him like he's all the world right now, and he finally snaps out of his daze, bright red-faced and blinking as he tries to divert his attention anywhere than the face he just spent five minutes staring at.) Y-Yeah right, even on your worst day, you could still win a gold, I'd watch you skate no matter what.
(... shit.)
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