halloforigin | Klavier Gavin [OPEN]

Klavier Gavin [OPEN]

Klavier Gavin a catch-all rp post

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(four days.

it's been four days since the wright anything agency solved clay's murder. since "bobby fulbright" or "the phantom" was tried, shot, and arrested. apollo really didn't give a shit what his name was. he only knew him as "the one who took my best friend away from me for good". he thought he'd be fine. just wake up and short "i'm apollo justice, and i'm fine!" a few times, maybe a few minutes. he'd greet the day, willing to live on for clay's unfinished dream and put his all into everything. maybe a few hiccups now and then, a certain moment of sadness where he just needs to excuse himself for a moment, pull himself together, chant he's fine, come back to the support of the office. he thought he'd be fine knowing he was living for clay.

it's been two days since mr. wright took all of his cases and divided them among the office with the promise he would be compensated for all of them. something about apollo hadn't left the office for hours or done anything at all to take a break or slow down. trucy said something about apollo needing to grieve. she could see it. then again, apollo realizes a little late that maybe it could be seen, even without perceiving. so he was sent home, two weeks paid leave on mr. wright's behalf. athena leaving an offer open for a therapy session if he needed it. he turned it down. trucy sent him off with a hug, probably the one action that brought him closest to tears.

call me if you need anything, okay, apollo?

he never called. he stayed at home for two days, lost, in a way he's never been before. he couldn't work, he couldn't call anyone, not anyone who would understand. every time, every single time he felt he needed comfort, his immediate reaction was to call clay. a few times, he found himself absently picking up the phone, clay's number dialed in before he remembered. right. clay won't answer anymore. it'll just go right to voicemail. so he sat there, in his apartment, almost depressingly desperate to find ways to distract himself, keep his mind off it. his mind would drift back to trucy's words, her offer to hear him out, help him work past this. she might be the one person in the office who could truly understand. but even she had mr. wright.

apollo had nothing. the best friend he'd clung to for years, who's ecstatic face was there when apollo passed the bar exam, the face that lit up like the sky when he first pinned his badge to his vest, whose arms were there to lift him up when he lost his job, whose laughter and back pats were there when describing a magician for an assistant and a rock star for a prosecutor.

the one constant in apollo's life won't smile anymore. he won't laugh or cry or yell or even find himself in space. even that was taken from him, before the mission had even begun. the constant person who's been there for years he lost count of is gone. and in that realization, apollo has never felt more lost. lost in an abyss of cruelty and injustice and what he can only describe as despair.

today was worse. he hasn't left his apartment in those two days, so uncertain of what he could even do. who was there to greet him without a look of pity in their eyes? there are idle thoughts as he collects his mail. need to do laundry, should probably go grocery shopping, artemis needs hay.

those thoughts are cut short as a train wreck stares in front of him. like clay's death happened right before his eyes. a letter from clay's father about a funeral to be held in three weeks time. with a request for apollo to be a pallbearer. he shuts himself back in his apartment, the letter ending up a tear-stained crumbled mess on the floor next to loose case papers.

not today. he won't leave today.)

[For as distant as Apollo was to the Wright and Co. Law Offices, it was even more rare for Klavier to see him. Ever since the case, he'd sort of withdrawn himself both mentally and physically from any and all means of social contact. Klavier never really butt into his life more than business (although to be fair, all his teasing attempts were shot down with a gruff reply), but he did try to keep friendly contact on more than one occasion. Prosecutors were known for being the defense's worst enemies. Klavier Gavin was an exception to that rule. He welcomes Apollo's company with open arms, whether or not the man actually reached out to take it.

And yet, he could only watch from afar as the sun god sank below the horizon, the glow from his face nothing more than a candlelight flicker. It worried him, to be honest, as he tried to stop by the the Office to see if he was there. A friendly chat, nothing more. But he was turned away--not because of his presence. But because Apollo simply wasn't there.

Athena avoided his gaze. Trucy could only give a look of worry as she ran to greet him. Nick was the only one who could give him a straight answer. Apollo Justice was on paid leave to sort things out for himself. To allow himself time to heal. It was with a polite smile and a casual wave that he took to the streets once more, address in his phone as he made his way down the streets of Lost Angeles towards Apollo's apartment.

A place he'd never really been, now that he thinks about it.

A soft knock sounds at Apollo's door as he arrives, the gentle rapping of knuckles against wood as he waits for an answer. It's a good five minutes, retrying every thirty seconds or so before he takes it upon himself to try the door, opening it a crack.

The place had...probably looked better at one point. Klavier could testify that.]

Herr Forehead?

[His tone lacks the usual tease, opting for a more worried and...soft tone. His accent only barely curls over the words, looking around for the man. He has a feeling that this isn't exactly what Phoenix had in mind when he wanted Apollo to collect his thoughts...]

(at first, he doesn't register that someone is knocking at his door. he'd gotten too lost in a photobook clay's father sent over, along with a few other possessions he felt rightly belonged to apollo. he had to look away so he wouldn't stain it with more tears. focusing on the happy memories did no good, because that's all they've become. memories. no more plans, no more late night calls asking how a case is going or preparation for the launch. no more visits to remember to sleep and eat and generally take care of themselves.

the only person who would be able to handle apollo as he is now has a knife in his chest and a coffin with his name on it. clay deserved more, he deserved more than a staged launch and a crushed dream. all he could do was dream about the stars, gaze at them from lightyears away. something in apollo's heart twists and contorts as his throat throbs with choked cries. the man responsible for all this could be dead and gone for good, but it still wouldn't bring clay back. nothing would. and apollo will curse that fate until his own last breath.

it hits him moments later that someone's been knocking at the door, and his first automatic motion is to go open it. but his legs stop, gluing him in place on his sofa. he doesn't have the energy-- no. he doesn't have the will to get up and face whoever's concerned about him now. it's probably trucy, checking up on him, offering to help with housework, console him like he painstakingly needed. but it won't help.

he only wants to see one face, and that face is only ever in this pictures now.

so he ignores it. he ignores the door and the presence behind it, figuring whoever it is will get the hint and leave. trucy wasn't pushy, none of them were. they'd have the tact to leave him be. a tact klavier apparently lacks. he actually looks up from the pictures, eyes red and puffy, in sweats and a t-shirt. the only discerning factor was the dark blue coat wrapped around his shoulders. his eyes widen, just slightly in surprise, mouth opening just a crack. his voice is weak, raspy, and not for the right reasons. crying yourself to sleep isn't actually that helpful.) Prosecutor Gavin...?

(somehow, he remembers in the back of his mind. he had a case. it was... he doesn't remember. he was supposed to be working, not living in his own mess and moping about. he didn't want anyone, especially klavier, to see him at his worst in this way.) Mr. Wright took my cases. If you have any questions, you should ask him.

[What he finds behind that door is...not surprising. Klavier had heard the news, he knew what to expect when he was coming over to visit. Losing a loved one was always a terrible experience. And while Klavier didn't lose anyone relatively innocent, it didn't take the pain away from seeing your own brother incarcerated, perhaps waiting for death row as they speak. His best friend too, now that he thinks about it, although that was a much less severe punishment. Still, they had been guilty, and still breathing. Clay was an innocent victim that robbed Apollo of one more thing in his life. His boss, his job...he can only imagine what more. A hand reaches up to curl around his hair, fingers entangling in the well curled 'drill' formation he'd worked so hard to perfect like his brother's.

It broke Klavier's heart to see him like that. Blue eyes softened as they lay upon him, not speaking anything more until he sidesteps a box of Clay's belongings, making sure to take great care to avoid mussing with it. What he saw was...not the Apollo he knew. The defense attorney that had enamoured him in the courtroom was but only a hollow shell right now, puffy eyes and wrapped in a blue coat he could only recognize as the man's best friend. For once, Klavier has nothing to say, not really sure what could possibly be said.

That is, until Apollo speaks up, eyes closing in affirmation as he loops a thumb on the edge of his pans.]

Ja.

[The joy's gone from his voice, only a whisper in comparison to what it's used to being.]

Nein, Nein, Herr Forehead...this isn't about a case. [He stops just before the couch Apollo's situated himself on, crouching down to sit across from him on that coffee table.]

I came looking for you.

(normally, it would've lifted his spirits to see klavier. hell, under normal circumstances, a surprise visit would've made him thrilled, though he would deny it to any who asked. but hearing that even klavier's voice had lost all the joy and rich molasses tone to it, he couldn't help but feel guilty. as though he was dragging everyone down with him in his dismal little abyss. he hates not hearing the usual joking and almost flowery language of the prosecutor. it suited him.

this didn't. but even for however much apollo despised the way he was acting, he couldn't do anything to change it. all he could do was curl in a little on himself, wrap clay's jacket around a little tighter, not meeting klavier's gaze. he's not sure he could hold himself together, apollo knows he's barely keeping himself from breaking down right here in the face of such kindness.

his eyes pinch at that thought, almost closing but just pained squinting down at the floor. not in the line of sight of the photo album or klavier's eyes. he speaks monotone, maybe an attempt at something akin to sarcasm, a little bite of attitude, but it just fails to be anything other than that. a weak attempt.) Well, congrats, you found me.

(maybe it came off snider than he wanted. what did he want here? the answer to that was obvious, at the same time, however, impossible. so he tries to be softer. keep the bitterness back, let something else out instead.) Did Trucy send you? Tell her I'm fine.

[If a sarcastic comment was enough to deter Klavier Gavin, he would have never made it as far as he did in the courtroom. And Apollo's harsh, if unintentional tone was to be expected given the circumstances. He doesn't flinch or take offense, only offering a smile as his elbows rest on his knees, watching the man struggle to keep himself standing on two legs when it's clear the floor had been ripped out from underneath him.]

She only pointed me in the right direction.

[Klavier moves forward as Apollo's eyes shut, arms slipping underneath that jacket, making sure not to jostle it in any way they snake their way underneath Apollo's. The gentle tug gravitates them together, Klavier placing his chin on top of Apollo's head.]

I'll tell her when I see her, ja? But for now...you are my priority.

[Words flow out like cool water, not the confident airs he put on in court, nor anything signifying pity. But something soothing and refreshing.

Letting Apollo know that for this moment, he would be taken care of. That everything was going to be alright.]

(there's somehow a retort in the back of his mind, a bark that trucy or mr. wright definitely gave klavier directions along with a wish for him personally to meddle in apollo's life. it's something they would do, the whole office, the prosecution's included would know that.

before words can leave his mouth for klavier to stop talking shit and be honest, but everything is caught in his throat as he feels klavier's arms slink around him, holding him so protectively. like he's something fragile, that the rest of the world isnmt ready to touch yet. maybe a bit of an over-exaggeration, yes, but apollo's never felt this emotionally vulnerable before. especially not in front of his own prosecutor rival.) I'm fine, Prosecutor Gavin, r-really. I just... need time, I'm fine, really, I'm--

(his own voice betrays him, cracking loud and a few octaves too high to really sound like apollo's usual confidence. too many emotions to keep in his heart, too many tears to hold back. his arms slide up shakily and trembling, as though his own body is fighting back the movements, to not give into the weakness he's feeling so harshly.) I'm burying my best friend in three weeks.

[A part of that was true: it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for anyone to do that, given the circumstances. But Klavier often went to the beat of his own drum, something Apollo would know more than anything. The melody he played was his own, and no different was his decision to come around and check up on his friend.

Friend. Not exactly something you call your rival in the courtroom, but no other word (one other word) seemed to fit. But Klavier's contacts shrunk considerably since the Gavinners broke up, and even more after Kristoph's contact number in his phone had to be taken off for good. Apollo, for all intents and purposes, was one of the closest people he had to his name. They say it's the celebrity life that's the loneliest....and right now, sometimes Klavier felt that. Which meant whoever he had he kept close to his heart. Apollo being one of those people.]

Nein... [he objects, voice low and soothing as he trails a hand up and around that coat to hold the back of the man's neck.The embrace only holds as long as Apollo is willing to let him, his chin resting atop that head and arms enveloping him against his chest. Fragile was a good word for it, feeling him tremble in his very arms.]

Herr Forehead. It's alright to grieve.

[His body shifts, moving to that he can slide the gap from the coffee table to the couch easily and without breaking hold of the man he was holding.]

But if it's alright with you, I'd like to be here.

(he doesn't stop klavier from moving, not at all. in fact, he shifts with him as klavier takes a seat next to apollo on the couch, doing whatever possible to make sure that the one contact he has right now won't just up and disappear on him. like another one did.

fists clench into the back of klavier's blazer, shaking desperate and pained as the entire case floods back to him. no calls, unanswered texts, multiple voicemails. then the news. then a call. the world stopped turning, color drained from everything he saw, and he felt himself sink farther down than just to the floor in that moment. that one agonizing moment where another loved one was gone, to a place he could never reach. with people he didn't know, but still missed.) It's not fair... it's not fair. He never did anything wrong, he was-- he was just trying to save Mr. Starbuck. He was killed for nothing. He never even got to see his dream through, thanks to that goddamn director.

(the tears come out slowly, unlike the words rushing out like a waterfall. fast and pained and powerful, despite how weak and useless apollo felt. there was absolutely nothing he could've done in that situation. and that will stick with him til his dying day.

his face buries into klavier's shoulder, clinging to the one shred of comfort and support he has left, the one that doesn't awkwardly leave him to his own devices. he'll never be able to thank klavier enough for this.) Please don't leave me, Prosecutor Gavin.

[He didn't expect Apollo to welcome him there so easily. After all, they were rivals, coworkers at best, and here he was trying to hold him up in one of the most trying times of his life. He expected the resistence and came prepared to convince him otherwise. But the way Apollo slumps into his arms...the way he looks ready to crumple at any moment, it's hard to see. The sun that shone so brightly in the courtroom was now a flickering candle braving a storm. And Klavier felt like only a hand to shield it.

So closer he pulls him, listening to the man's words through choked and raspy breaths. It never really was fair, was it. Court cases, for as much as they tried to remain neutral on issues, were personal when it came to your own friends and family. Klavier remembers having to sign off on Kristophs incarceration. He remembers having to see Daryan dragged off by police. But he's never had to deal with someone so innocently killed. He listens, he keeps his breath steady. And he sympathizes.] He sounded like a good man, if you speak so highly of him.

[It's all he says, letting Apollo grieve. Tears dampen his shirt, but he couldn't care less about that as he bats back his own tears. Did he deserve to cry over someone he didn't really know? Maybe not, which is why he dries them as much as he can. It was hard to watch Apollo like this, but right now the man needed a pillar. And he'd be that support if he had to.

But the words catch him off guard, eyes widening and staring off at something beyond Apollo's shoulder. "Please don't leave me, Prosecutor Gavin."

It sounded so helpless. So pleading.]

Apollo.

I'm here as long as you need me.

(under better circumstances, or at least ones not as depressing as this, apollo would have protested. he would've fought back against klavier's outstretched hand, meant to support apollo when he needed it most. but now apollo has lost what he considers to be most of his world, another longstanding presence in his life he'll never see again. it made him weak, and possibly needing a shoulder to cry on more than he knew. he doesn't have it in him to fight against klavier. not now.

right now, he's crying on his friend's shoulder, wailing about a person who shone as brightly in his own life as apollo did in others. it was something clay often joked about, apollo being the sun in so many lives. how strong he stood, glaring light into any and all truths placed in front of him, how no one could really tear themselves away from him.

what is the sun supposed to do when it loses its own light?) He was... he was the best person I've ever met. Clay was always there, no matter what, through the best and worst. He... he never let me be alone.

(like i was always terrified i would be. and here, his worst fears came to light. another loved one, gone. his breaths are anything but steady, his voice cracks and wanes from holding back tears as he tries to speak, to sound even the slightest bit put together. even though he feels like one word could make him crumble to pieces with no hope of ever being whole again.

but klavier's words are like a life raft, something to save him from sinking deeper and deeper into this emotional void. sure, he's not clay. no one will ever be clay. he hiccups, whines escaping his throat that are soon followed my wails. his throat burns from being completely out of use to suddenly working overtime in the span of a few minutes.) I don't... want to be alone anymore. I can't be, not again.

[He's been there. The only difference? Apollo had so many people that had loved him--no, that he had loved back so much...and one by one they disappeared from his life. Maybe he was the lucky one in that it was only his brother and friend who'd left him, tried to use him. Apollo had lost innocent people. More than he deserved to. In a way, he can see why it would happen. Apollo was certainly a good person to know.

He knew there was a reason he was so enamoured by him when he'd met him at People Park that one day. He was so passionate, full of love. Worthy of love in return. And yet the world kept taking it away from him.

Tears stain his blazer, but Klavier could not have cared less as he let the man sob. He doesn't speak until Apollo's run out of words. Getting words through the blinding tears and pain in his throat was hard enough, and Klavier had to admit even for someone like him who could weave lyrics on a whim, he was having a hard time finding something that would help. Something that would heal Apollo's shattered heart. He held all the pieces in his hand, and no matter what he could do...that's how they'd remain. All he could do was keep them from falling to the ground. This wasn't something he could fix. This was only something he could keep from breaking further.

His voice hushes gently, a soft whisper as he presses his cheek softly to the top of Apollo's head. He remembers when he cried when he was a child, the calm voice of his brother often consoling him in a similar way. Back when he could've sworn his brother actually loved him.]

Shh....I'm here. It'll be alright.

[Easy words for him to say, as his blue eyes cast down to the ground.]

You're strong, Apollo Justice. You're stronger than anyone I've ever known.

[Fingers stroke along his back, pulling him even closer.]

I'll make sure you stand for both Clay and yourself.

[It's what a friend would do. And deep down, he hopes that Apollo would give him that right.]

(one hand. that's all it takes to count the number of people important in apollo's life. now it doesn't even take that. will he even have enough friends to count someday? clay promised never to leave him after learning about his past. a lot of good that did. the only promise clay ever broke, and it was the one apollo wanted him to keep the most. like some cruel twist of fate.

how long would mr. wright be in his life? trucy? klavier? when would they leave? a year, two, five from now? there's no permanence in his life. everything is always changing, something is always being lost. little pieces of apollo are strewn about the world, with no chance of ever finding their way back to him. parts of his life crumble, falling through the cracks of the world, never to be seen again. friends, loved ones, coworkers, associates. all of them vanish without a trace, leaving apollo with only memories.

he would normally find klavier gavin comforting him a freak of nature. sure, he and the prosecutor were on civil terms. hell, apollo would even dare to call him a friend. but he never expected klavier to be the one to pick him up when he's fallen, keep him together enough to prevent him from breaking apart entirely. but he doesn't care. he can't care, because klavier is here right now, when apollo needs someone who even remotely understands this pain. and there's just... something about trucy that makes him want to stand strong in front of her.

so he'll be weak now. he'll be weak and cry and sob and wail and open his heart to the one supporting him. he shakes his head, denying klavier's words, denying the meaning behind them. all of it. he just can't accept all of it.) Yeah, I know it'll be fine. But this is right now, and it sucks! Right now hurts! I'm not strong at all, if I was, I wouldn't be like this! I wouldn't have shut myself away from the world and I would've made an effort to live for Clay like I promised!

GOD IM SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS IS but also not really

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