halloforigin | Klavier Gavin [OPEN]

Klavier Gavin [OPEN]

Klavier Gavin a catch-all rp post

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(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!

[Everything's always changing. How right Apollo's own thoughts were, and ones Klavier often thinks about himself. How much longer until they're alone? It seemed like that deadline was drawing closer and closer for him, and it's one that he only really thinks about when...well, something like this happens. It's easy to put on a brave face and make it through the day. But when night comes...when there's no one to say goodnight to or text about plans.

When your last memory wasn't one you had planned on. Not being able to say goodbye...it hurts. Apollo had been hurt so much. And he was losing faith in the world itself.

It's not something he ever wanted to see of Apollo.

He's not the best candidate to do this. While he'd consider him a friend and...well, a colleague, he wasn't Clay. He wasn't Trucy or Phoenix Wright. He was just the only one who showed up to the house and scooped him into his arms to grieve. Much like he wished he had when he arrived home that night Kristoph was incarcerated. Much like that night the Gavinners broke up.

Apollo could be angry at the world like he had, and he'd listen.]

You will get that time to hold to your promise, Apollo Justice.

[His voice is firm, and if it weren't for the fluidity of his tone or the soft German accent escaping his lips, he would have sounded years beyond his maturity.]

Gott... You have to heal. It hurts now, ja. And it will for a little while longer. But you will get through this because that is who you are, Justice.

You're well loved. And you love in return.

(he doesn't like this part of him. the part that expects bad things to happen. he wishes dearly he had the optimism and strength of those around him. klavier never once gave up, even after his brother was convicted twice, his best friend once. it baffles him how steadfast he could be. meanwhile apollo was sitting here, wallowing in his own disgusting self pity, unable to face reality or even set foot outside his apartment.

he wanted to be strong, think back on clay's memories with a smile, not curl in harder around klavier, sob his heart out. the world still turns, with or without clay. but apollo's world stopped. it stopped the moment that knife was plunged into clay, and he was having an impossible time making sure apollo's world kept turning. moving forward, moving on brightly and unwavering.

clay would probably yell at him for moping this much. they'd shout "i'm fine!" to each other a few times, share tears in secret, then go on to face the world stronger than before.

but clay didn't have that anymore. neither did apollo.) I... I know. I'm sorry. I just-- I don't know.

(he's lost. there's no direction for him, that usual pillar of support with a cheesy remark is gone, his grounding force has been taken away, to a place he'll never reach.

he believes klavier's words. his voice is weak, but it speaks with some amount of conviction. he knows. he'll be fine someday. but "someday" isn't today.)

[Klavier was a celebrity among people, and if that wasn't a harsh course in learning how to put on a brave face for the public, he didn't know what was. It's that which keeps him coming into work even after his brother was convicted. A brave face to accept that his best friend could be linked to a murder. An unchanging attitude to when he softly looked to the ceiling with a sad smile, saying only a few words.

"Kristoph, you're not needed."

But much like his career, he went home, he took off that mask, and he cried. He cried into his arms, watching his small circle of loved ones dwindle down. Those who he kept closest to his heart were who had metaphorically stabbed him in the back. Kristoph only saw a tool. Daryan had once been thought of as his confidant. He cried similar to how Apollo was now. And he wished every time that there was someone he could've held onto.

That's why he's not leaving. That's why he came over.]

I know.

[His words are soft, almost a whisper as his lips grace the top of Apollo's head. Truth was...he didn't know. Apollo and Clay were best friends. Who was he to even try to understand something like that? Losing someone close to you was a feeling that everyone had felt, but it comes in different degrees.

Clay was special in Apollo's life, and there's a soft, silent thank you to the deceased man, for being there for him for as long as he could.

"I'll take it from here, freund."]

You don't have to pick yourself up right now. No one is strong enough to do something like that, Herr Justice.

It is okay for you to grieve.

And I want you to for as long as you need to.

(the only source of guidance now is klavier. he's too used to putting up a front at the office, to being strong and putting on a smile for everyone. not to mention, it always felt like... they could see through him. or were trying to break down his walls when he wasn't quite ready to speak. it was almost suffocating, walking in the office only to have everyone know exactly what he's thinking or feeling without saying a word.

klavier didn't have any "powers" like that. he only saw what was right in front of him, he didn't try to force anything out of apollo. klavier was normal. he handled the grieving process like a normal person would. no emotional locks, no habits giving away true emotions, no listening to hear what a person actually feels. there's no sense of judgement or pity, no looks of "i know how you really feel". well. maybe that, but for different reasons, ones anyone could pick up on.

the kiss to his head only makes him hesitate for a brief moment, and under any even slightly less emotional circumstances, apollo would have reacted. but now? now he's lonely, more so than he's ever been in his life, he's lost and confused and unsure about everything that still stands in the world, wondering when all of it will crumble away. when the agency will fall, when klavier will leave, and that's it. that's his whole world with clay gone.

but klavier is here, now, standing here and being everything apollo needs. however embarrassing that kiss might have been, it was a gesture apollo needed. a sign that someone here cared and loved and would be his strength until his own came back. he's never had that before, not for years and years.

he nods, slowly and unsteady, but he heard klavier. he acknowledges his words, he's taking them to heart. he'll be weak for now, even clay would permit apollo time to mourn.) It... it's gonna be a while. And it's gonna be messy. But... But I can't mope for long. Clay'll... he'll get pissed at me. Call me a wuss or something, say I look weak without my hair gelled. Dumb shit like that.

[He'd never see himself as one. For as popular as he was, he was never taken too seriously among prosecutors. Miles Edgeworth could at least acknowledge his talent, but no one in that office would ever say he was a source of guidance. A confident, good lawyer, but certainly one that didn't follow the norm of prosecutors.

...

But Apollo was right. He didn't have the power to see beyond what he was given. All he knew was that this man was broken down, and he doesn't have the power to put him back together. That's something Apollo has to do himself, and he'll be here to hold the pieces for him until he's ready.

The kiss was receieved, and without a word of protest or any more desperate sobs, he rubs the man's back, pulling him away just so he can see his face. Blue eyes meet the large brown ones of Apollo, wiping a stray tear from his cheek as he offers a smile.] Well your hair does look less sharp than normal, Herr Forehead. Perhaps he's onto something, ja?

[Which gives him an idea. He holds up one finger, giving a soft, playful grin.] I'll be one moment. Can you wait for me?

[It IS quick, the way he situates Apollo on the couch, making his way up and...oddly looking around for something in particular. It's almost comical, the way he opens a door only to find a closet. It's quickly shut, with a little apologetic smile. He...he meant to do that.]

Second time's the charm.

[A few seconds more and he's found his way down the small hallway...]

Found it.

[The blonde pops back into view again, holding the hair gel that they'd only just been talking about, right there in his hand. Sure, Klavier couldn't solve Apollo's sadness, but he could certainly shed a little light into the room that had been left in the dark for so long. The sun wasn't shining today.

But a star will shine on until morning.]

(klavier's smile lifts his spirits far more than he knows at the moment. how long has it been since he's seen a smile? a real smile, directed only at him. not one in pictures or memories or ones of pity for his circumstances. there's a thought, somewhere even farther in the back of his mind, that it's klavier's smile that took away even an ounce of his grief.

he doesn't want to focus on that. not right now. not in the middle of all this. but before he knows it, klavier is leaving him on the couch, and apollo scarcely manages to stop himself from reaching out to grab him, to not be left alone again. he can't leave. if he leaves, he'll never come back, apollo can't have that, he can't lose another--

he halts his thought process, controlling his thoughts, reigning them in from where they were headed. he's being unreasonable, klavier isn't going to leave him, he's just walking down the hall. well. into his closet, first. there's a small smile on his face, easily missed if you aren't looking. the kind you make when you might cry again. he'll laugh about this. someday.

apollo waits on the couch, silently, sincerely hoping klavier doesn't take long to finish whatever he set out to do. he takes this time to close the photo album, making a point not to look at it again. the situation would just repeat itself.

when klavier returns, apollo is reading back over the letter from clay's father again. he needs to respond, soon, for the sake of the funeral, and to give mr. terran one less thing to worry about. klavier's voice snaps him back to reality, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the container in klavier's hand.) Is that... my hair gel?

[He makes sure he's not gone long, popping in and out of the bathroom in record time. He knew what hair gel looked like--he used it himself on countless occasions. ]

You're as perceptive as ever, Herr Justice. [A playful tone, as he works his way back over to the couch, sliding down next to him. The bottle remained in his hand, running his thumb over the words as he looked down at it. How does he explain this seemingnly odd gesture? Apollo was clearly grieving still, and yet here he was, bottle of gel in hand and slowly turning the man's shoulders to him. There's gentle permission to take the letter, and if given, he'll neatly fold it up and set it on the coffee table for later.

Apollo can contact them later.]

The first step to feeling better is to make yourself look better, ja? [That warm smile returns, beaming at him as his eyes practically pinch closed. He wanted more than anything to pull Apollo out of the swirling cesspool of depression he'd found himself in. And even something as simple as doing your hair...that could boost morale.]

I've been on stage many times, and they weren't always knockouts. Sometimes I wasn't feeling my best that day. Simple things like washing your face can do so much.

[The cap opens, and a small amount of gel is placed in his hand as he rubs them together.]

...Now, let's see how good of a job I can do.

(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.

[If you asked him, it was far from a waste of time. He often did his worth rather efficiently--contrary to popular belief, he's quite the serious prosecutor when it comes down to it. Right now his priorities were on Apollo Justice, and making sure he has the strength to set foot in court again one day, not only living for himself, but carrying on for his best friend. There's nothing to be ashamed of in his eyes about Apollo's behavior. He'd been there once himself, and it was only by Apollo's own eyes that he was able to pull himself out of it.

He'd gotten back on his feet because he wanted to face that man in court. Here, he wants the same thing.

Klavier is completely silent as he positions himself, taking on an almost too-professional look of a hair dresser as he smiles, leaning in ever so slightly to take those two strands that seemed to have swept into the man's eyes. It's gentle, and fingers thread through it to get tangles out, wishing he'd had a spare comb or something.]

I'll do my best. [The whisper is almost ghostly, taken away by the air itself as he pulls those strands up, judging their thickness and distribution before he starts to apply the gel.]

I don't know if anyone told you, but you deserve to hear it.

You're handling this better than you think.

(apollo can confess with a certain amount of confidence that he trusts klavier to give whatever he sets his mind to his all. whether it be in the courtroom, or on stage, apollo at least knew the man in front of him was not the type to half ass anything. maybe that's what made this so nerve-wracking for him, to have someone as full of love and passion as klavier here, in his life, picking up the pieces and delicately putting apollo back together, piece by piece.

it's part of the reason he has a hard time finding a place for his eyes to rest. staring at klavier just... seems like too much, he can't bring himself to stare anywhere immediately in front of him, not with klavier's eyes promising him comfort and his smile giving him hope.

but soon, he doesn't have to worry about where his gaze lands, fingers threading through his hair and him realizing no one's ever played with his hair before. touched him like this. sure, there have always been friendly hair ruffles here and there, but nothing quite so calming and intimate as this. his eyes close slowly, taking in the touch and letting klavier work, a quiet scoff just barely under his breath.) Yeah, tell that to everyone at the agency.

[Klavier's eyes don't leave his work, making sure those two little spikes stand up just the way he remembers them in court. There's quite the possibility that it's not a direct match, but he remembers them well enough to emulate to a surprisingly accurate degree. A thouhtful hum escapes his lips as he pulls the longer of the two bangs up, pinching his fingers around it and pulling it up alongside the first one.

He can't remember the last time he's taken care of someone like this. Kristoph certainly didn't get that close, and Daryan would've shoved him away for even trying to help with his hair. Helping Trucy the rare occasion he saw her get ready for her show, maybe, when he dropped off flowers...but other than that...

Blue eyes flick down to try and meet Apollo's brown.]

They're worried for you, Herr Forehead.

[There's a soft, affectionate little poke to his forehead, dragging it back up to finish those bangs, holding up one finger. He'd need the comb for this next part, and it's nothing but a quick walk to the bathroom again to grab it, continuing the conversation on the way back. In his other hand, a wet rag.] Fraulein especially.

[Plopping back down next to Apollo, he runs that comb through the larger portion of his hair--the part usually slicked back.] I don't think they know what to say. The--[He hates bringing this up. It's not the same situation at all.]--The Prosecution office didn't know what to say to me either, when I arrived back after that case. [Apollo would know which one.]

[He doesn't pull or tug, but rather works the little tangles out with the gentlest little flicks of the comb itself. Years of working on his own hair, especially when it grew from his boy-band cut to now, he knew how to painlessly remove them. The whole time he couldn't look more doting if he tried, each time as gentle as the last. He wanted Apollo to feel better as well as look better. The hair seems to cooperate, flowing through the teeth of that comb effortlessly once the tangles are removed.]

...That's better.

(apollo himself doesn't even realize how badly he needed attention like this, someone to dote on him, care for him, be a sense of emotional support until he found a way to get back on his own two feet. a little stronger than before. sometimes you have to get beaten down to get up again.

the poke startles him, jumping in his seat just a bit. he's not used to teasing gestures, not ones so delicate and caring, unless it's from clay. the office was always a little... rougher with apollo when it came to jokes. it's jarring to have someone he thought he knew open up a completely different side to him, especially someone as cool and yet closed off as klavier. he knew nothing about him outside of the courtroom, nothing of what he's like in the privacy of friends or loved ones. does that mean apollo counted as someone important in his life?

he figures he must be, for klavier to spend so much time on him, doing his hair, being a shoulder to cry on, working to get his rival back to the force he knew him as. the comb in his hair, sweet and gentle, was not a feeling apollo was used to. even with all of the crushing sadness still raging in his heart like a stormed sea, he felt calm. cared for.

his eyes close again, finding a sense of peace, not being able to fight bitterly back against his words with as much vigor as he normally would. he's not even aware he's leaning back just so, almost resting against klavier.) ... I was such an asshole. I never tried to explain anything, I just... I just left. I hated always being able to see their pity at me, no matter how much they tried to cover it.

(for all of klavier's hard work, his freshly gelled spikes are already wilting, like a flower left without care for too long. he always saw it. the way their eyes scrunched up just barely, mouths tensing while trying not to blurt out apologies for nothing, the way they just couldn't quite look him in the eye.

this time, he lets himself fall against klavier completely, in need of that support once more.) ... you didn't do that. You've... you've been looking at me like you understand. (...) Clay would've been grateful.

[It's no surprise that Apollo's reached one of Klavier's most important people. The prosecutor's list of people he could readily rely on dwindled fast in the past year or so. Daryan made him question things he never would have thought to earlier--could he even trust his own band? The Gavinners didn't just split up because they lacked a second guitarist. Kristoph, his own brother had even turned against him, the little comments he always shrugged off as playful and teasing now felt condescending and haughty. Did his own sibling think so little of him that he'd point out every mistake he made?

His brow furrows the more he thinks about it, letting out a single exhale as he composes himself. It wasn't the time to dwell on his own lack of companionship. Apollo had lost someone in a far more tragic way, and if one of them has to be the strong one, Klavier's going to step up with the same smile he put on stage. As convinced as he was that Apollo hated his music, he could at least provide this.

Apollo's hair glides through that comb now, leaving grooves where the teeth pulled through those strands. He'd always found the feeling soothing, although his hair was too long by now to let a simple comb do the job. With Apollo's hair now as good as it was going to get, he smiles, setting the comb down and reaching for that wet rag, letting it envelope over his hand as he takes the man's chin with the other.

Tilting it this way and that as fingers glide it across Apollo's face.]

I'd like to think I do. [Apollo's words touch him, that smile unwavering as he runs the cloth over the man's cheekbone. Dried tears stained his cheeks, and the warm rag pulls them away to reveal what small glow Apollo still had to his face.

A much better look for him.]

Clay would want to see you in the courtroom, I think. [He says it so casually, as if Clay were actually just down the street and not gone from this world.] I've never met him, but I think we both have similar goals.

[Wanting Apollo to be strong.]

(the tenderness of klavier's movements surprise him, but he doesn't move away from them in the slightest. he's never been cared for this lovingly, been treated like someone delicate, someone who needed time to heal and the proper care put into that. as though klavier was trying to protect him from any force that could bring him down, until apollo is ready to stand on his own again. it reminds him of clay, with a stab of guilt in his heart as that thought comes to his mind. is he accepting this because it's what clay would have done? is that all it takes to comfort him, someone just has to remind him of his best friend?

he bites his lip, shoving that thought down, far far deeper down than he normally does, forcing himself to think of validations for it. he turned away the comfort the agency offered him, but welcomed it from klavier. he almost craved for it, crumbling into his arms with little resistance for what his friend offered him. he clings to that thought, repeating it over and over again to center himself, wash the guilt away, chant to himself he's just overthinking it due to the stress and grief. it's klavier. it's klavier. it's klavier.

the warm rag helps to soothe him as he ruminates over klavier's words, letting his touch bring him a small bit of peace to his life, eyes fluttering closed as klavier brings a bit of life back into apollo. he thinks back to when he first lost his job, it was more than a year ago now. watching his boss be escorted away by the police, his office being searched and packed up. what he remembers most is clay being there constantly, never giving apollo moments to wallow in self pity or the woe is me act.

he would want to see apollo back in court. it's what he helped him with those two months rumors began floating around. clay was part of the reason they never bothered him, he was always there ready to fight anyone who said even one wrong word about apollo. it's what he was. a constant.

having klavier here, kind and gentle and trying to be even half of what clay was... apollo would never deny it brought him peace. eyes open slowly to greet warm blue eyes like the sky, never diverting their attention from the person before them.) You both want me to be able to stand again.

(his lips part, only a crack, a moment of weakness taking hold and controlling him. it's an automatic movement, one that just feels right as apollo leans over, dried lips greeting klavier's soft ones. heat flows through his chest as his heart tightens in excitement. it's only a moment, but that moment offers him enough clarity to know one thing.

it truly was klavier that apollo wanted here with him right now.)

[It was like peeling away an old mask to reveal the face underneath. He knew that no one had probably done this for Apollo--at least not anyone recently. And it shows in the tender way Apollo leans into the touch. The way his eye softly closes when he runs it just under his eyelid where the cheekbone meets it. The rag glides over those eyebrows, straightening them out in the process, and down the side of his face to the jawline.

There were a lot of things Klavier had no control over. He couldn't bring back Clay, or prove Daryan and Kristoph innocent. No matter how much he wished they were. No matter how much he wished he could bring back the light into Apollo's life.

This was something for Klavier, too. Because for once he felt like he could fix this. Maybe not completely. Maybe all he could do was hold the pieces and try and piece together something resembling his riva-...no, his friend. But it was something he felt he could do and not be powerless to the situation. Selfish, maybe, but then again, what decision in life isn't?]

Ja, baby.

[A small smile curls on his lips at Apollo's response, his answer all put flowing out of him so naturally. But in that time that he takes to blink to reflect that answer, Apollo's already leaned forward, cracked and split lips pressing against his own. Blue eyes widen a moment, that rag falling limp on his fingers as they curl inward, feeling the soft spark that their kiss gave. The shock was brief before he follows suit, head tilting ever so slightly back into that kiss. Lips massage against his own, and he moves to position them slightly better.

Selfish? Maybe. But...

Maybe he could fix this, just a little bit.]

(if he had the emotional energy for it, apollo is certain his heart would be soaring by now. here, in this moment, he is kissing klavier gavin. and being kissed back. he tenses nervously, only for a split second, a quick intake of breath before he lets himself ease back into the kiss. it's sweet, slow, simple. just what apollo needs. and he begins to think that maybe, just maybe, he'll be fine the way he wishes he could be. as long as he has klavier here to support him, to care, to love, be that gentle force apollo can rely on, then maybe sooner than he thinks, he'll be able to--

what are you doing?

the question blares in his mind out of nowhere, and he swears the voice almost sounded like clay. he freezes, tensing up in the kiss again and he's suddenly not kissing back or pulling away as the thought repeats in his mind. what was he doing?

the immediate answer is kissing klavier gavin and feeling better than he has all week. the events of the week flood back to him, and if he could, he'd kick himself for even thinking of doing this in the first place. but then again, maybe the problem was that he didn't think at all.

he immediately shoves himself away from klavier, a light pink flush to his cheeks that greatly contrasts the look of shock and shame on his face because how dare he do this. how dare he take advantage of klavier's kindness and well meaning behavior to do something like that to him? only days after his best friend passed away, no less. a hand covers his mouth, both wanting to remember exactly how klavier's lips felt against his, soaking in the last remnants of his taste while trying to hide his error in judgment, make it all go away.) I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- That was wrong, I'm sorry.

(the wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong meaning, all of it. but nothing felt wrong about it until guilt crept into his heart, as he chastised himself for thinking for even a moment that klavier might be a replacement for clay. he didn't want that, not at all, but he also didn't want klavier to stop calling him baby, he wants to know what else that mouth can say about him.)

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