(he hesitates on letting klavier take the letter, he's still not quite ready to let go. but he relents, lets klavier tuck it away until apollo is truly ready to handle it. there's a quick wave of guilt slamming into him. klavier is taking time out of his day, no doubt when he needs to be working, to help apollo through the grieving process. and here he is, just making things worse by moping about and thinking about the funeral. he knows he'll have to get back to it, but for now, he lets klavier do as he pleases.
he has to physically bite his tongue to prevent himself from blurting out a rather hurtful comment of how not having a good concert and dealing with your best friend's murder are two completely different things that should not be compared this way. it stings, deep in his heart, and he wants to lash out.
but he has to calm himself, remind himself that klavier is here to help. he's just doing what he can to understand the situation. and apollo realizes... he would. it's not in the same context, but klavier has lost two very important people in his life, though under different pretenses. he can trust himself, hair or emotionally, to klavier. he believes this much as fact.
so he shifts awkwardly as klavier moves him, but that smile warms a little corner of his heart again, a crooked, somewhat broken smile given in return. it's not his best, not by a long shot, but worse attempts have been made over the days.) I guess... I'm leaving my hair in your hands.
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he has to physically bite his tongue to prevent himself from blurting out a rather hurtful comment of how not having a good concert and dealing with your best friend's murder are two completely different things that should not be compared this way. it stings, deep in his heart, and he wants to lash out.
but he has to calm himself, remind himself that klavier is here to help. he's just doing what he can to understand the situation. and apollo realizes... he would. it's not in the same context, but klavier has lost two very important people in his life, though under different pretenses. he can trust himself, hair or emotionally, to klavier. he believes this much as fact.
so he shifts awkwardly as klavier moves him, but that smile warms a little corner of his heart again, a crooked, somewhat broken smile given in return. it's not his best, not by a long shot, but worse attempts have been made over the days.) I guess... I'm leaving my hair in your hands.