Series/Disclaimer: Ace Attorney: Apollo Justice which I do not own.
Pairing(s): Klavier Gavin/Daryan Crescend and vice versa.
Warning(s): Swearing. Lots of it. And drama. And sex. This is your warning for the entire extent of this project.

Summery: Consider it a time line but don't make it normal. No dates, no numbers and scribbled in little facts that have no relevancy. Better yet, consider it a sheet of staff paper.

Now draw both treble and bass clefs and picture notes. Sporadic and individual, they don't mix at first. But at one point they become harmonious, twirling together to mirror and mimic each other. High notes, low notes and everything in between. Eventually until it gets back to where it started but for now don't worry about that. Worry instead about where a song begins to form...

That's where it begins.

Author's Note: Alright, here it is, the prologue to my latest undertaking which is generally but not completely sketched out. Thankfully I have my handy Natalie to help me when I hit stupid blocks and point out my errors.

This story is a set of sequential one-shots featuring Daryan and Klavier. They don't lead together like chapters in one set of time because it jumps around up until...well, you'll see when I get there. After this prologue, some of the chapters will be uploaded with only the lyrics to a song and a link back to the prologue where the information for this entire thing is. (This is not true here on for the sake of space and probably a rule somewhere. Instead, at the beginning of each shot I will post the title of a song and the band who sings it. It's up to you whether or not you want to look up the lyrics.)

This prologue may also be updated with any other information I randomly feel necessary to include but won't put with a chapter for the sake of effect.

Beyond this point, I hope you enjoy! x3

--

He wasn't nervous but the memory of Kristoph's voice over the choppy reception of his cell phone was still ringing in his ears like each syllable had been a bomb. It was strange because he couldn't really remember much of the conversation, only the usual effect that it had on him. His elder brother's 'encouragement' was difficult to translate in its own way; it was as though each word was either an explosion that had gone off or one that was going to. What hadn't he done and what would he forget to do.? There was no praise and no regards what he had done right thus far. The second he forgot something, a blast would be set off in the back of his head and he would be fighting tooth and nail to keep control. It isn't real. Don't try to block it out. It's fine. You're fine.

Deep breath. Another trivial procedure that had never served a purpose except force him to realize his lack of oxygen and make him wonder how long he had been breathing like that. His hands fidgeted with the papers he held but to anyone watching, he knew he looked calm. All through his studies that was his strength; no matter what he was calm outwardly. Inside his brain was reminding him of things that hadn't even happened yet, flitting through everything he had learned at a mile a minute, but to the world he knew everything. This was his case.

Then it started. For a few brief moments the proceedings were a blur of words, some of which he was well aware had come from his own mouth. This was his first real trial but they slid off his tongue as though he had been doing this for years. Everyone looked impressed; jury, defense, Judge, bailiff. Everyone. He reached a hand up to run it through blonde hair in a suave manner of brushing off the compliment from the Judge as his eyes scanned the pleased or awed faces of the spectators. They were all eating out of the palm of his hand and he felt like he could have gotten his guilty verdict if he had just asked for it right there.

But that had never really been his style anyway. Not the glitz and glamour - no, that was definitely all his - but simply getting something because it was there to be got wasn't why he had worked for this profession. No, more than anything he felt like his life had been deprived of the truth. The entire world lacked a solid resolution of and he entered this work force to return it to its rightful place on the forefront of life's stage. This world could be built on honesty but it wouldn't be easy; but he was ready. At least, it felt that way until he answered his cell phone that morning.

A burst of approval from his crowd, however, made his confidence physically rise. He'd never been one for playing coy and now wasn't going to be the time he chose to start. All eyes were on him and he was going to give them the real deal. The real Klavier Gavin; not what they expected of just any seventeen year old. He'd studied, worked hard, and if nothing else was the younger brother of Kristoph Gavin who had already made a name for himself here. His next stop - this was just a small prerequisite on his travels. And all these people, so mystified and pleased with his mere attitude, would be witnesses to the greatest performance of their lives and a simple stepping-stone of his.

His eyes swept over them one more time, smiling brilliantly at each gaze fixed on him as they watched like he was a new breed lead to show. He swelled with the attention like a balloon yet appeared completely modest. Every smile and nod of approval added to the glamour to the point it nearly blinded him but just before it could he realized it. He realized that he had been wrong.

The defendant, Daryan Crescend, seemed far more occupied with whatever dirt it was that lingered under his fingernails than the debuting prosecutor who really was no older than he. Klavier would estimate he hadn't even given him a second glance since walking into the courtroom. His black hair was long, drifting past his shoulders, and seemed to be the only part of himself that he cared much for. It was brushed neatly and pulled away from his face, a few of the long strands escaping to shield his expression like a curtain from the world. From him. Even though he was only seventeen he looked hardened, yet, that word wasn't completely accurate. Angry. He looked angry; and at something far more than the dirt under his fingernails.