(the shift in klavier's attitude sends waves through the entire apartment, even reaching apollo as he attempts again to curl in on himself, put up barriers between him and the world. it leaves his heart conflicted, stressing over question after question. why was klavier the one that seemed the most damaged from this? he was the one who lied, hadn't he? the tightening grip of his bracelet has always been impossible to ignore, there was no doubt in his mind klavier had lied.
and yet, klavier stayed here, in his presence, almost refusing to leave. was it just a sense of obligation, or something more akin to guilt? no one would really be okay with leaving another person in a state as terrible as apollo's.
and yet he still aches as klavier leaves the room, an emotional rain cloud following him wherever he walks, one apollo swears he could see. is this the effect he has on people? he just... brings the mood down of everyone who comes in contact with him? he scrubs at his face with his sleeve, not the one of clay's jacket. he'll keep that one as pristine as he can. his tears still fall, most of his face cleaned off by now, left red and dry from his vigorous attempt to at least make one part of his life seem fine. however much of a facade it will be.
klavier taking place beside him again startles him, words he hopes-- no, words he has to believe are honest. he's not the type to have his heart laid bare before another so easily. even after all these months, apollo still doesn't know as much as he should about his rival. they share the suffering that came with being related to kristoph, the pain of having someone important ripped away from them. he listens in silence, gaze falling anywhere but on klavier, too scared of seeing another lie. it makes him despise himself, how much he'll hunt for the truth in court, but here, now, where it really matters to him, he looks away. hell, he pushes it away.
it's slow, but his hand lowers from his eye, gaze only barely turning toward him before immediately glancing away. the motion is repeated, still scared to face this. but if he's scared of what klavier will say truthfully, or if that truth will cause klavier to leave forever, he doesn't know.
he speaks hoarsely, making every effort not to let his voice crack, not appear too weak, letting a hand grip clay's jacket for an extra needed bit of support.) ... mine is gone.
(yes, he still had the agency. but the agency isn't clay. a force there for the worst and best, the constant support, a presence there for the largest part of his life, a love he'll never be able to replace, no matter how long people stay in his life.) ... but you lied. You want friends, but you lied about us being friends.
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and yet, klavier stayed here, in his presence, almost refusing to leave. was it just a sense of obligation, or something more akin to guilt? no one would really be okay with leaving another person in a state as terrible as apollo's.
and yet he still aches as klavier leaves the room, an emotional rain cloud following him wherever he walks, one apollo swears he could see. is this the effect he has on people? he just... brings the mood down of everyone who comes in contact with him? he scrubs at his face with his sleeve, not the one of clay's jacket. he'll keep that one as pristine as he can. his tears still fall, most of his face cleaned off by now, left red and dry from his vigorous attempt to at least make one part of his life seem fine. however much of a facade it will be.
klavier taking place beside him again startles him, words he hopes-- no, words he has to believe are honest. he's not the type to have his heart laid bare before another so easily. even after all these months, apollo still doesn't know as much as he should about his rival. they share the suffering that came with being related to kristoph, the pain of having someone important ripped away from them. he listens in silence, gaze falling anywhere but on klavier, too scared of seeing another lie. it makes him despise himself, how much he'll hunt for the truth in court, but here, now, where it really matters to him, he looks away. hell, he pushes it away.
it's slow, but his hand lowers from his eye, gaze only barely turning toward him before immediately glancing away. the motion is repeated, still scared to face this. but if he's scared of what klavier will say truthfully, or if that truth will cause klavier to leave forever, he doesn't know.
he speaks hoarsely, making every effort not to let his voice crack, not appear too weak, letting a hand grip clay's jacket for an extra needed bit of support.) ... mine is gone.
(yes, he still had the agency. but the agency isn't clay. a force there for the worst and best, the constant support, a presence there for the largest part of his life, a love he'll never be able to replace, no matter how long people stay in his life.) ... but you lied. You want friends, but you lied about us being friends.