(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.