That laugh. That wild, unhinged laugh, echoing off of the courtroom walls and silencing the crowds. The laugh of a man who had nothing left to lose, who had fully accepted that he was a killer, an evildoer. A laugh that was as good as any confession of murder.
Klavier's eyes opened. He could feel the sweat on his brow, and almost still hear it reverberating off of the walls. He closed his eyes again, trying to slow his breathing. That man-it pained him to call him his brother-was in jail. Locked away. In even more security than he had after the Shadi Smith case. Kristoph Gavin was in jail.
But he was in the apartment Kristoph had bought for him, in the bed his brother had tucked him into in the absence of a parent.
Apollo stirred next to him. Klavier let out a sigh. It was impossible to keep anything from him. "Klavier."
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep, Herr Forehead."
"You know, it really kills the mood when you call me that." Apollo reached over and flicked on the guitar-shaped lamp on Klavier's side table. His hair was uncombed, its usual spikes drooping over his large forehead. Klavier didn't think he'd ever be able to get used to seeing his courtroom rival's bedhead.
"It is endearing, ja?" Klavier brushed his own hair away from his eyes with one hand.
"Why are you awake suddenly at four in the morning?"
"I told you. Nothing. Just a dream."
"You're playing with your hair. There's more to it." Apollo's brow was furrowed the way it always was when he said something particularly detrimental to one of Klavier's points in court.
"You don't have that silly bracelet on. How are you doing that? Do not tell me you wear it to sleep, do you?"
Apollo feigned offense. "You think it's all the bracelet? And here I was thinking you had respect for me as an attorney." He paused. "No, but really. Do you want to talk about it?"
Klavier sank back into his sleeping position, staring up at the plaster of the ceiling. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Was it about...that?" He didn't even have to say what 'that' was. It was ironic, really. Only two weeks after the infamous case, they'd 'gotten the hots for each other,' as Trucy so eloquently put it. Perfect timing, perhaps. "Because I have nightmares about it too sometimes." Klavier could hear the strain in his voice. Apollo hated not being able to help. That was the thing about Apollo. He was always trying. No matter what obstacle he was presented with, whether it was an impossible court case or baking cupcakes, he always just kept trying.
"I know," Klavier said, more softly than before. "It was nothing much. Nothing worth you worrying yourself about. Someday I will stop having them. Until that day, there is little else I can do other than simply go back to sleep." Seeing the worry on Apollo's intense features, he flashed him a smile. "Are you in favor of that plan, Herr Forehead? Or would you like to practice your Chords of Steel at three in the morning?"
"As tempting as the singing lesson offer is, I think I'll pass. The sleep option sounds more appealing."
"Then sleep we shall." Klavier turned off the light, reaching over Apollo to do so.
"You're sure you're alright? I can't perceive you in the dark, so you could lie in answer to this question."
Klavier chuckled. "You would find a way, even in the dark. I don't trust you, Herr Forehead." He then paused. The sun was beginning to filter through the blinds, and he heard cars going by below the twentieth floor apartment, and what might be the beginning of a construction project on the street adjacent. And finally, the rhythmic sound of his own heartbeat. No laughter. No Kristoph. "If I am not alright now, I will be eventually."
"I can settle for that." Apollo shifted closer to Klavier, pulling part of the comforter off of him. Klavier decided to let it slide. "Goodnight, Klavier."
Klavier closed his eyes once more. "Goodnight, Apollo."
His sleep that night was dreamless, and silent save for sound of Apollo's breathing.