Breaking up is hard to do

Chapter 1: Tonight I Wanna Cry


Leaving the courtroom had been painful.

It had always been particularly painful for him ever since he had stepped into the bench opposite that of defense attorney, Apollo Justice, right from when they had first met. But he was Klavier Gavin, rock star prosecutor, admired by many. He was Klavier Gavin, a celebrity, and he smiled, he air-guitared for his fans, he kept his cool. Perhaps everyone else thought him cold for turning against Kristoph like that, to disallow Daryan from entering the crime scene, for standing by and letting them be proven guilty. But what did they know? They weren't Klavier Gavin, the rockstar, they weren't him. They didn't know.

They didn't know how painful it was for him. Everything that happened had been like a jab to his heart. From Kristoph being revealed to have killed Shadi Smith, to a death happening in the middle of a Gavinners concert, to Lamiroir announcing to the court that she had heard Daryan, to watching Daryan break down and confess his guilt, to watching Kristoph today…in court…practically go insane. That was his older brother, the only one he was related to in this world, the one who he had depended on when they lived together in Germany, without any parents. The both of them studying law together, Kristoph even helping him at times when he needed it. Did they not think that it would not hurt to prosecute his brother, watch Kristoph just stand there and laugh when the verdict was announced?

He was a prosecutor, and it was his job.

He was also a rockstar, and it was his job. It was his job to slip on his sunglasses, smile and wave away the reporters incessant questions and walk as casually as he could to his motorbike. It was doubtless that Herr Forehead was celebrating his victory. Klavier wondered if he had ever felt the pain he had when accusing Kristoph, who had been his mentor, as the guilty one.

And so, with that, he had called the rest of his band mates (well, what was left of the Gavinners anyway) out, saying that they all needed a 'night out to party away'. Party away his troubles, party away all their troubles. With a smile on his face.

It was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image.

He had engaged the others in drinking battles, teased their drummer for refusing to drink too much, downing one glass after another as he flirted with the female company that decided to join them. All with that smile plastered on his face.

Because it was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image.

And when he was reaching his peak, he asked the drummer to be at the wheel of his car, to drive him home, promising the ladies that he would be back to enjoy the company of "such lovely frauleins".

Because it was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image.

And then, despite the drummer asking him in concern if he was alright, he nodded and just closed the door behind him. Alone in his house, he staggered to the kitchen and brought out a bottle of wine he had kept and a glass in the other hand, hitting the couch. It was too quiet, and Klavier Gavin, the rockstar, could not stand silence, and so he switched on the television with a click of the remote control. The sound wasn't as loud as he would have liked it to be, but the neighbours would have complained, and…the soft voices actually suited his mood.

Alone in this house again tonight
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine

He poured himself a glass of wine rather sloppily, not caring if it stained the couch, and held it up to his lips and drank. The glass was then put down on the coffee table and he decided to drink from the bottle instead, but paused, blue eyes suddenly catching sight of the picture frames arranged on the dresser. He didn't need to go close to them to know what they held. They held pictures of him, Klavier Gavin, the prosecutor, the rockstar. Klavier Gavin with his brother, Klavier Gavin with the full band, laughing, posing, joking.

There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me

Klavier Gavin let out a bitter laugh, the laugh that he would have never let anyone else hear. The laugh that nobody would know Klavier Gavin possessed, because it was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image. He still remembered, the memories were fresh, heck; it had been only a few months since his life seemed to have crumbled around him. He still remembered, when earlier, when Kristoph had been escorted away, the gaze he had given him. It was so unlike the older brother he had always known, it was deranged, it was demented, it was almost accusing. At least with Daryan, the man had been too preoccupied with his bounding guilt to even look at Klavier when he was led out.

The way that it was and could have been surrounds me
I'll never get over you walkin' away

But now, alone, he didn't need to accede to the requests of his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image. Klavier could let his head slump back, chuckling darkly to himself, feeling hopelessly lost. If only they knew, that cool public image he had wasn't all that it was to him, Klavier Gavin. The prosecutor, the rockstar.

I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control

He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply, drinking, letting it flow down his throat, and for a split second, he almost imagined that it was poison, sweet poison that would kill him, would take him away from this world. But he was Klavier Gavin and it was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image. And suicide was not an option for Klavier Gavin. But he could get drunk. He could get as drunk as he wanted, to numb himself from all this pain. He laughed again and he felt something wet on his cheeks. He set the bottle down, lifting a hand up to touch it, and realized that it was his tears.

It was then he realized that he was crying. Klavier Gavin was crying, and he didn't care if it was his job, as a prosecutor and a rockstar, to always have that public image. He just let the tears fall and laughed. Laughed at how he thought his life was perfect, that how juggling his two jobs had turned out well enough, and now, everything was proven wrong.


But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

The song in this chapter is "Tonight I Wanna Cry" by Keith Urban, which I've been listening to, and what really spawned the whole idea of this fic. This fic is totally Klavier-centric, with no pairings, though it may contain an OC or two. I'm not making any promises, but it'll be pretty tragic.

-Melodine