Rahh Gumba Foo: Don't worry :') only a few more chapters to go now.

LittleCatGirl: I'll try and work on the spelling thing (and grammar for that matter). Glad to hear you're enjoying it and thanks for the review.

Finalage: Thanks so much, this really motivated me! Also, you're right; I really don't focus on describing the background and looks of the character's, partly because I don't find it particularly easy, but also because I've always found the emotions of the characters far more interesting. Once again, thanks and hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

Talking of which, here's the next chapter; enjoy! :') Also, the name of the chapter's a contradiction in itself. I always have trouble thinking of decent chapter names to be honest, so hopefully this one makes some sense.

Clear in a subtle way

The next day Klavier awoke, once again, feeling quite unsettled and unhappy. He already unsure about what to do with himself. Part of him wanted to sit around and feel sorry for himself, but he was beginning to get sick of doing that.

So he liked Vera? Was that so bad? She was nineteen, so it wasn't exactly the largest age gap. That didn't even feel like the problem; the problem was that it was making it awfully hard for him to see a future in their friendship.

But this was getting silly, he'd spent too long moping around. He had to tell her, or at least show her he liked her. That was the only way to move on, wasn't it? That way she could turn him down and he could move on . . . and if not, then the problem had been removed.

She was kind to an incredibly degree; he knew she wouldn't get angry with him. He just dreaded seeing her brow furrow as she realised the man who had told her he'd help her, had inexplicably fallen for her.

He got dressed, styled his hair in that signature style and headed off to work, deciding he'd drop round and see her on the way home.

Work hadn't been great recently. His morale was at an all time low and he felt sluggish; like he was trying to run a marathon with water up to his waste. Basically, it wasn't easy and he was getting fed up of this depression. He felt like betrayal lay round every corner and he was finding it hard to trust people at work. Everyone wanted to get ahead and get promotions to earn more and while his desire to be wealthy had always been prominent he'd grown to be something of a sceptic. Did that money guarantee happiness? It didn't seem to from where he sat. All the same, he supposed if you had financial security it'd be one less thing to worry about.

But lately, whenever he'd found himself seeming paranoid or overly suspect he'd taken to reminding himself that not everyone was out to hurt him. There were nice people around . . . like Vera.

"Klavier, how are those notes coming along?"

He yawned and sat back in his chair, staring at the wall. He'd been working all morning and it was almost lunch. Longing to be back in the court-room and actually doing something interesting he felt his stomach rumble.

"Klavier?"

Standing up and grabbing his wallet he turned around to see an angry Ema Skye, much like he had the day before.

"KLAVIER? Hellooooo, earth to Klavier? Are you in there?" she asked, her brow furrowed and looking thoroughly irritated.

"Wha-what? Oh, hey Ema, how long have you been there for?" he asked her.

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. "What's up with you lately? It's like your heads been off somewhere else." she seemed to be struggling with herself, torn between annoyance and sympathy.

"I ah, I'm fine. Sorry, I have been distracted." he said, sounding quite genuine.

Squinting now, slightly she walked into his office and sat down, "Goodness, an apology?" she paused, " . . . You're really different now, y'know that?"

"I am?" he asked her, wondering what she meant exactly.

She nodded, "Yeah, I mean, you have your moments, but you're a lot less . . . how can I put this delicately? You've been less of a fop."

"Oh right? Um, thanks . . . I think."

"Look, I'm not your boss or anything, but maybe you should take the afternoon off work? I mean, you clearly can't concentrate properly."

He guessed this was her trying to be nice. He must've really turned into a sap lately if Ema felt bad for him. All the same, it probably wasn't the worst idea ever.

"Maybe you're right? Y-yeah, I might do that." He grabbed his bag, as she got up and tried to flash her a smile.

"Cool. Okay, just make sure you catch up the work you missed . . . and whatever it is that's on your mind, sort it out, all right?"

He nodded thinking of Vera for a second, "All right, I'll try my best." he paused before going. "...Thanks Ema."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, don't get too comfortable with this. We're back to "Glimmerous Fop" and "Fauline Detective" on Monday, okay?"

But It wasn't much better at home as he felt awfully nervous about later, but to pass the time he wrote a song, and tried to get some chords down. Still, it was hard to concentrate on much other than what he would say later.

The song he'd written was about Vera, but he knew she wouldn't be one of those girls who'd like a man to turn up and sing a song to them. He knew her; she'd get embarrassed and find it difficult to know what to say. But the song did cheer him up a bit. It was the first time in weeks he'd felt like writing music.

He ate his dinner around four and decided he'd head round to hers for five-ish. Still feeling nervous and anxious he knocked on the door three times and waited for her to answer.

When she did she looked surprised and slightly taken aback. She was in a dressing down and her hair was in bouncy loose curls framing her flawless, ivory face.

"K-Klavier . . . hi." she said, with wide eyes. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting him, which was fair enough since he hadn't called ahead.

Against his will he blushed slightly. "Uh, hey; I err, just thought I'd call round and … see how you're doing." This was technically a lie, but he figured "I called round to tell you I think I'm falling in love with you" might be a little overwhelming for door-front talk.

"Oh, okay. That's good. Come in-" She smiled, but it was anxious smile and he followed her through the door.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I assume you going out somewhere with Trucy-" for a second he thought he detected the slightest hint of annoyance, but shook the thought off.

"No, not with Trucy." she seemed fidgety and was now staring at her coffee table as they'd both sat down on her sofa's. "I err, I have a date."

He felt something erupt inside his chest, a feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before in his life, or at least if he had, never to this degree. This had to be what jealousy felt like.

Of course, he had a million questions; who was the guy?; where had they met?; did she like him a lot?; how old was he?; where did he live?; why couldn't she go out with him instead?. But he knew he couldn't ask all of those. It would make things too obvious. She'd be uncomfortable and he didn't want that. So instead, he went for:

"Oh, right. Sounds good. Who is he?" he said in his best cheery voice, even attempting a smile.

"This man I met . . . in the supermarket yesterday. He seems . . . nice." She was clearly embarrassed. God knows why; it was he who had overlooked the fact that other men might notice her and want to go out with her too.

"Oh, right..." was all he could think to say. He was making this far too obvious and an awkward silence set in. He scanned his mind for anything, anything that he might say, whether it be a question, a compliment, a statement. Neither had said anything in far too long for it be passed off as a pause in conversation.

Surprisingly, though, it was Vera who spoke first. It was only she'd be getting better at conversing. "Did you have a good time yesterday?"

He almost did a double take. Why didn't he think of asking about the dance? It seemed so obvious now. "Y-yeah, besides the music, obviously." he replied, making a reference to the conversation they'd shared. "Cleaning up wasn't much fun, though."

She smiled a little, "Oh, did other people not help much, then?"

"No, it's more that other people made a lot of mess and then left."

"O-oh, sorry." she said, "I would've stayed later and helped, but-" she hesitated now and clearly thought better of whatever she was about to say, "but . . . I was tired."

Shaking his head he replied; "No, I wasn't saying you left loads of mess- you didn't. It's just that most people did. I mean, I had help, Ema stayed back, surprisingly, and helped and a couple of other detectives too.

They conversed for a little while longer, awkwardly, with nothing concrete to say, besides what he'd gone there to say, which now seemed widely inappropriate.

Finally, he thought of something vaguely real to say.

"I wrote a song the other day."

"You did?" she asked, looking a little surprised at the sudden change of topic.

He nodded, "I haven't written one in weeks, but earlier I picked up my guitar and it felt different . . . God, you'd think after everything I've been through, I'd be able to write millions about betrayal, but they words just didn't come."

She smiled slightly, "But they did earlier?"

"Yep."

She now wore and odd expression, he couldn't tell what she was thinking at all. Not that he usually could, he guessed she must keep the majority of her thoughts and emotions to herself.

"What's changed, then?"

Klavier knew what had changed, but he couldn't say it. He struggled with himself for a minute, wanting so badly to tell her that she was what had changed him, somehow, her innocence, naivety and questions had helped him feel happier. That was before he'd realised how he'd felt and then that she may never be his.

So he couldn't put it plainly. "You." was not an option for what he might say next, so he looked her in the eyes and tried to think how he say this, without actually saying it.

"I guess someone . . . or something," he added, trying to keep it vague, "must've reminded me there are good people, really, really nice people and that I need to trust that not everyone's going to, you know . . . betray me."

She had another expression, he felt it was most likely she was confused. How could she not be? He'd probably been too subtle.

He stood up, it was time to go. There was something he had to say and he didn't want to stick around for the confused aftermath.

"I should go, Vera." she stood too and followed him to the door, "I don't wanna be here when your date arrives . . ."

And then as he was just about through her door frame he stopped, turned around and looked her straight in the eyes. She looked surprised at the intensity of his gaze, but this was no time to lack conviction.

"But when he gets here . . . tell him how lucky he is . . . and tell him there are a lot of guys . . . myself included," he turned back around, not wanting to see her reaction now, "who'd absolutely love to be in his place."

And with that, he pulled the door shut and walked away.