Apollo couldn't breathe. It wasn't every day that he received correspondence from an ex-mob kingpin's son asking to meet at the park for a talk. There was enough mobster movies out there to know that a "talk" usually ended up with a decapitation or a body full of bullets. And Apollo wasn't ready to die.

He didn't know if he was being pranked, or if the letter from Wocky was totally serious (either way, he had a hard time believing anything the young Kitaki said), so Apollo decided to keep his response as brief as he could. Dropping the letter in the mailbox with shaking hands, he expected to lose plenty of sleep between now (Wednesday) and Friday. How was he supposed to prepare for such meeting? Should he bring a knife? A gun? A witness?

"I'm fine...I'm fine...I'm fine..." Apollo mumbled the mantra nonstop since agreeing to meet up with Wocky, shaking his head whenever Trucy or Wright asked him why he was doing so. He couldn't risk telling his co-workers about his plans at the park, lest they wind up on the Kitakis' hit list. This was a mission for Apollo and Apollo alone. At least he lived a good life, right?


Friday came faster than a speeding bullet (no pun intended). Apollo had spent hours in front of the mirror in his room, deciding what to wear (why wasn't a bulletproof vest one of his options?). He settled on a pair of dark denim skinny jeans, brown cowboy boots (to allude to confidence he didn't have), a salmon-colored shirt, and a dark-red hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. The outfit seemed friendly but tough, right? At least he hoped so. Slipping on his mother's bracelet, he made a light breakfast consisting of a bagel and water (in case his stomach was too nervous to agree with him), hopped on his red bike, and rode off to People Park. Everything was going to be fine.


Apollo dug the heels of his boots in the dirt; it was the only thing that kept him from pacing in front of the bench he currently sat on. It was 11:58 and still no sign of Wocky. Or of anyone, to be exact. The park was secluded at this time of day, with people too busy at work or school to walk its trodden pathways. With the sound of birds as his only accompaniment, Apollo wished he would've told someone of his whereabouts this morning. How could he be that stupid—?

Leaves crunched nearby, and Apollo's head shot up to see a familiar figure walking his way. It was Wocky, hands in his jacket pockets, his head downcast. Suddenly Wocky lifted his head, his eyes meeting with Apollo's, and he grinned. Weird.

"H-Hey..." Apollo greeted the gangster with a small wave, wincing as the other boy sat down next to him so close that their shoulders brushed against each other's, "Everything fine?"

"Yeah, yeah. 'S cool, homie!" Wocky twirled the ends of his orange bangs around his finger repeatedly, a smile spreading across his features.

Apollo could've sworn he saw Wocky blush, but he shook off the notion. "Right. So you wanted to talk about your trial? I'm not sure how much I can do for you, it being over and all. I'm not a guidance counselor." He let out a loud, nervous laugh.

Wocky glanced down at his own hands for a moment, then searched Apollo's face. His gaze fell upon Apollo's lips before diving at them with full force.

The defense attorney had no time to register what was going on; his teeth met with those of Wocky's before he was subjected to sloppy, hungry, desperate kisses and hands that gripped his sides too tightly. He struggled to free himself from Kitaki's hold, sinking his fingers into Kitaki's arms and flinging him back against the bench. "Wh-Wh-Wh-What the hell!?"

Frozen in place, Wocky's face was contorted in pain, and his bottom lip quivered as if he were going to explode in anger or cry. He avoided Apollo's stare, pretending not to hear his harsh breathing or string of obscenities.

Apollo wiped at his mouth with his backside of his hand, shivering in disgust. Did Wocky just kiss him? He guessed it was slightly better than having a knife held at his throat or being held at gunpoint, but now he couldn't get the taste of Eldoon's salty noodles from his mouth or rid himself of the slimy coating of saliva that stained his cheeks.

The boys sat in silence for a while, the tension around them like a dense fog.

"What was that all about, huh?" Apollo spat, perhaps a little boldly than he intended to, "Why did you just...?" In the back of his mind, he knew he was being too harsh on Wocky, especially since he belonged to a family that could tear him limb from limb, but Wocky had invaded his personal space! Assaulted him!

"...Naw, man. I'm outta here. Peace!" Wocky got up from the bench, cheeks burning, preparing for the walk back.

Apollo reached out and grabbed Wocky's arm, yanking him down onto the steel bench frame. "No you're not. What's the matter? The 'Fanged Fox' lose his fangs? You wanted me here to talk, so let's talk!"

Wocky let out a small gasp, his eyes wide in bewilderment at Apollo. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, focusing on a lamppost a little ways off. "I don't wanna talk no more. It ain't G to have feelings! Forget this shit ever happened, dawg! You go your way, and imma go mine's!" He attempted to get up again, but Apollo's grip on his wrist convinced him otherwise.

"'G' or not, you're human. Humans have feelings, Wocky. You can't go around suppressing how you feel until it destroys you from the inside. You have to let people in!" Apollo paused, his voice trembling with emotion, his eyes filling with tears. Somehow, some way, Wocky reminded him of Clay. And after all this time, the memories of Clay still hurt. "Y-You wanted to talk before. You seemed eager to! What changed? Are you worried about your 'rep'? Worried that I won't listen?"

Another pause followed.

Wocky shut his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. He growled, wiping at them with an angry fist, sobs rocking his shoulders. He kicked at dirt, he pounded his fists in his lap, then turned to Apollo with blazing eyes. "You wanna know what I feel? Fine! Fine!" He let out a shaky breath and continued, "Ever since my trial ended, my heart was fixed, ya heard? But it's...still broke. I had problems trustin' people before, but now I can't even stand to get close to no one! Everyone around me gave up, man! My folks keep goin' on and on about how their fuckin' muffin business is the shit, but we all know it ain't right! Who ever heard of G's bakin' muffins?"

Apollo loosened his hand on Wocky's wrist, throwing it over his shoulders instead.

"Real talk, doe!" Wocky went on, "I...realized that Alita was pretty screwed up after all, the gold-diggin' bitch, and I ain't ever gonna find love again!"

"Why do you say that? That you'll never find love?"

Wocky scowled, narrowing his eyes. "As if you hafta ask, Attorney-Man! So I couldn't trust no one...Except for one person. I couldn't stop thinkin' about them, how they had that courage stuff, how dedicated they was...all that. Man, they got me all the way messed up!" He snickered, face brightening for a moment, "I tried to keep those feelings on lock, and...I couldn't. So...I went to them and..."

"And?" Apollo watched as Wocky contemplated something, the gangster tilting his head from side to side.

"What if I told you...You was the person I was talkin' about?" Wocky turned to Apollo with a feeble smile, "What if you was the person I couldn't get offa my mind? If I thought you was my hero? My...love?"

"Ack! Now that kiss makes sense!" Apollo whispered to himself. To Wocky, he added, "I-I'd be really flattered. Really! People don't usually see me that way." He blushed.

Wocky watched Apollo carefully, a seriousness on his face Apollo had never before witnessed. "But?"

Apollo leaned forward, matching Wocky's lips with his own. He kissed him slowly, softly, sensually. He rolled on top of Kitaki, straddling him, moaning in response as Kitaki returned his tender kisses.

There was something about Wocky's strong hands at his waist—or the fact that they were going beyond the acceptable parameters for public displays of affection—that really turned Apollo on. He wrapped his arms around Wocky's neck, kissing a line along his jawline. He paused to breathe, saying the words Wocky had been dying to hear for the longest time:

"Time to be my hero."