Klavier has been feeling tired lately.
He's self-aware enough to recognize that it's grief finally catching up to him. He'd been going strong ever since that first trial against Apollo, but the loss of the Gavinners feels worse, somehow. His music was so much a part of his daily life that there's no way to forget it, not like he can sometimes do with his brother. They'd seen each other weekly at most, both busy – but without his fans to perform to, Klavier has nothing to drive him on. He can keep up appearances well enough at work, but it's wearing to do so.
He'd take a vacation, but the thought of even more free time is daunting. He wants something to fill those empty spaces where the melancholy creeps in, some way to combat this emotional exhaustion. Physical exhaustion will do, in a pinch, and so he starts going on runs with Vongole – still trying to be better for her, too.
They meet Phoenix four runs in. Klavier is taking a break on a bench, drinking from his water bottle, when he hears an eager huff by his side, and looks up to see the lawyer approaching with purposeful strides.
"Oh," he says, when he gets closer and Vongole stands up to greet him. "Hi… Gavin?"
"Call me Klavier, Wright."
"Well, likewise, then. I mean. Call me Phoenix, not Klavier–" Phoenix grins, but stops at Klavier's blank expression, reaching to ruffle Vongole's ears. "Right, I forgot. Stopped being funny when I got a kid."
He's blushing a little, and it's so odd to see (his experiences with this man have been so high-tension, always fraught with emotion), that instinct rears its ugly head: Klavier flirts with the man.
"If that's the extent of your repertoire, Phoenix-not-Klavier, I doubt you ever were." He catches himself only after the fact, when he's already grinning with eyebrows raised teasingly, and feels embarrassment heating his own cheeks – he's not sure why. Klavier flirts stupidly with everyone, it's nothing new and indicates no real interest.
"Oh, you play along!" Phoenix laughs, apparently oblivious. "How've you been, Klavier?"
He sounds… genuine. It's startling, but perhaps their last interaction in this park softened more than just Klavier's opinion. Perhaps he's not the only one resolved to give the benefit of the doubt.
"I'm fine," he says with a polite smile, knowing it's half a lie. And maybe he's a little less convincing than usual, or maybe Phoenix is just more alert, but Klavier thinks he can tell, too.
"Yeah, you'll be fine," he agrees, barely any emphasis on the future tense. It's enough, though. Klavier can't help his little scoff. Regrets it immediately, just like the flirting, but once again he's too late to take it back, and this time Phoenix catches on.
"Man, look at me," he says after a moment, smile edging into something more familiar, a bit sarcastic. "Making dad jokes, butting in… I told Trucy power walking is for old people, look what it's done to me."
There's something defensive about his body language, his shoulders shifting back and his foot tapping in place like he's ready to leave.
Somehow, that makes Klavier want him to stay.
He doesn't understand why; past aside, they barely know each other. But conversing with Phoenix is… engaging. Unpredictable, even down to Klavier's own reactions, and – he wants to see for himself. What is he missing? What does everyone else see in this man?
"Have a rest, Opa," he offers.
Phoenix hesitates. Sits closer than expected.
"You just called me old in German, didn't you?"
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