"Come on, Apollo. Just tell me."

Clay took a long sip of his drink, casting Apollo a pointed look. Apollo tried to take a bite out of his sandwich, but Clay pulled his plate away.

"Why are you like this?" Apollo deadpanned. Clay shrugged. "It was your idea to go out. How is this de-stressing if you keep asking me about work?"

"Okay, first of all…this is the 'De-stress Express.'" Clay held up fake quotations, a spark of pride brightening his expression. Apollo opened his mouth, ready to interject with more reasons why naming a hangout made no sense. "And second, this isn't really about work. Dude…you know a rock star! I want details."

Apollo rolled his eyes, reaching for the basket of fries. Clay tsked at him and pulled it away as well.

"What the—seriously, Clay?"

"No food until you give me something," Clay said. He circled the trays he had gathered with his arms, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Earn your meal, Justice."

Apollo groaned, running a hand down his face. Clay grinned, realizing that he'd won this round.

"He rides a motorcycle," Apollo stated. "There. Happy?"

"Literally everyone knows that," Clay protested. Apollo threw his head back and sighed.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with Klavier Gavin?" Apollo said. Clay leaned forward, sensing the beginning of a rant. "Everywhere I go it's Gavin this and Gavin that. I go to court and the judge treats him like he's an angel. I go home and he's all over the TV. I go to the fucking grocery store and all of a sudden there's a 20-minute line just because Klavier Gavin wanted to buy tomatoes or something." Apollo made jazz hands at every mention of Klavier's name. Clay snorted on his drink. "His fans are another thing. You know what they call me? Satan." Clay burst into a cacophony of coughing and laughter, unable to hold down what he'd been sipping on. Apollo glared at him. "It's not that creative."

Clay was too busy gasping for air to respond. Apollo slammed his hands on the table, growing defensive.

"I get it, okay? I wear red! I have weird hair!" Apollo snapped. "Who cares? Let me live!"

"Oh, god…you really, really hate him."

Clay brushed tears from his eyes, still chuckling. Apollo rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Well…that's not true. I don't hate him," Apollo said. Clay stared at him, incredulous.

"Really?" Clay asked. Apollo nodded. "I can't say you like him much, though."

"I don't!"

"But you don't hate him."

"Right."

Clay shook his head, stealing a few of Apollo's fries. Apollo stretched his hand forward, attempting to reclaim his dinner.

"I need to know more," Clay said, chewing on Apollo's food and smacking him away. Apollo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why does he annoy you so much? Like, him specifically…not other peoples' reactions to him."

"Look, I…he's just…" Apollo struggled to come up with the right words. "He's too…too cheerful, I guess."

"Okay, okay." Clay feigned scrawling on a notebook, eyes burning with delight. "Obnoxiously happy. That's the first thing, then?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion," Apollo said. He ran a hand through his hair. "He just makes fun of me a lot. It gets on my nerves sometimes."

Clay traced scribbles on his palm, sounding out his words as if he were actually writing. "Too…much…roasting."

Apollo drummed the surface of the table, his brain working faster than his filter. "And he pretends to be 'cool' in court all the time. Who does he think he is? I mean, he's a rock star, but still…"

Clay nodded. "Famous…diva."

Apollo winced. "I don't know if I'd call him a diva…"

"Not a diva? Really? Ugh, fine…just famous, then." Clay amended the invisible statement on his hand, seeming disappointed. "Keep going."

"Hmmm…well, he holds the door open when I'm twenty feet away. Then I have to do that weird jog-run just to go through without things being awkward."

"So, manners…"

"He laughs in the middle of my sentences all the time."

"Likes…laughing…?"

"And he keeps asking me questions. Like, 'oh, Forehead, having a great day?' Or things like 'doing anything fun tonight?' Half of those are in German, of course."

Clay raised his eyebrows. "Um…'Forehead'?"

Apollo's gaze sharpened. "I'm not going to get into that."

"Alright, alright. Whatever." Clay waved a hand at Apollo, as though he were throwing away the list they just made. "You realize this basically describes me, right?"

"What? No. No no no." Apollo raised his palms apologetically, beginning to backtrack. "You don't do any of that stuff—"

Clay pursed his lips. "I don't make fun of you?"

"I mean, most of that stuff—"

"What about pretending to be cool? I use my astronaut cred to try and get free drinks all the time." Apollo started to speak, but Clay shut him down. "I know it never works, bro. That's not the point."Apollo fell silent. Clay continued. "I'm a happy guy. I laugh. I ask you how you've been. The only thing I don't do is the door thing…but I'm probably going to start because that's fucking hilarious." Apollo smacked his head. Clay's lips twisted into a smirk. "You don't have any real problems with this guy. Be honest."

Apollo took a deep breath. Clay was right, of course—and he was regretting this conversation already. "No, I don't."

Clay smiled at him, simultaneously soft and radiant. A shining star. "So what's the real reason? Do you know?"

Apollo looked down at his empty hands. "It's…"

"Justice? Justice? Are you there?"

Apollo jolted. Klavier's voice crackled in from the other side of the line.

He looked down at his hands. The phone was clutched in his fingers.

Back to reality.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." He pinched his wrist, trying to forget that memory with Clay. He'd gotten so lost in his thoughts that he'd missed what Klavier had been saying all this time. "I…I spaced out."

"Mein Gott. I thought I'd lost you again," Klavier said. Apollo cursed himself. "I was just saying that I was flattered that you even responded."

"Why wouldn't I, Klavier?"

Apollo drew the phone further away from himself, hoping that Klavier wouldn't catch his wavering voice.

He glanced at Kristoph. The man was still staring into the mirror, fixated on his reflection.

He's the reason for everything.

"Ja, of course. I am far too charming to resist." Klavier didn't sound as smug today. Apollo wondered why. "Regardless, I wanted to check how you were. As you did for me." Oh. That was why. "I understand we didn't leave off on…the best of terms."

"Yeah…" Apollo cringed when he remembered running away from Klavier, dodging the man's grasp and sprinting down the street like some kind of wild animal. That would certainly be a tough impression to overcome. "But I'm fine. Really, everything's fine."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished they hadn't. He was a terrible liar under pressure—so bad, it was almost cartoonish at times. There were times where he'd imagine a laugh track playing after an unfortunate encounter, knowing that he'd managed to bumble something up in a truly sitcom-esque fashion.

"Ah. I see." Just as he suspected—Klavier wasn't convinced. "You are, are you?"

"Totally," he said, trying to sound confident. His brain scrambled for excuses to back up his claim. "I've just been catching up on sleep."

Klavier sighed. Apollo felt the palms of his hands grow slick from cold sweat, hoping that it'd be good enough. "I understand. You must be exhausted. Schlaf ist gut." Yes! It worked. He'd finally managed to pull off a real—"But I was wondering, Justice…why haven't you responded to Herr Wright's messages? Or Fraulein Trucy's?"

Apollo froze.

They texted me.

His gaze drifted back towards Kristoph. This time, Kristoph was staring directly back at him. The sentiment was clear.

You never deserved it.

"A-Ah, I passed out as soon as I got home," Apollo said. He turned his back to Kristoph, refusing to acknowledge the murderer's existence any longer.

"After we got coffee? That was three days ago." Klavier said. Apollo could hear the uneasiness in the man's tone. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes!" Apollo exclaimed. The nervousness churning in his system was making him sound far too enthusiastic—he needed to dial it back. "Er…yes. I've just been…tired." This was going terribly. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to move on. "How are they?"

Luckily, Klavier didn't press the issue further. "The Wrights are well, Justice." Relief flooded Apollo's mind. He caught his breath, finally gifted an instant of peace. "Police officers have been stationed at their home since we last met. Same for me."

"That's good," Apollo said. This time, it really was. "Better to be safe."

"Ja…but…" Klavier's voice trailed off. Silence consumed them as Apollo waited for Klavier to finish his thought. "Why did you decline?"

Apollo furrowed his brow.

"Decline what?"

"I asked the officers about you. I wondered why they hadn't sent police to your home as well." A pause. He could hear Klavier breathing on the other end, steady as ever. "Apparently, you told them not to come."

Apollo braced himself.

"I didn't want to be monitored," he said.

"So you'd risk your own safety?"

"Listen, I…" Apollo stopped himself. Things were getting trickier and trickier to explain. "I thought I was going to spend most of my time at the Agency."

"You thought?" Klavier said. After a second of incredulity, the man cleared his throat and continued. "Ach egal. Never mind. You would still be at risk—"

"I just needed a place to be alone. Away from…everybody."

Klavier didn't say anything. Apollo bit his lip, feeling pressured to say more.

"I know it's stupid, but…I didn't want to think about it, Klavier. I just wanted to deal with it myself."

Klavier let out a low hum. Apollo's heart pounded so fiercely that he could hear his pulse rushing through his ears.

"You didn't want the police to remind you of it," Klavier said.

"…yeah," Apollo conceded.

"And now? Do you still want to be alone?"

Apollo drew his arms close to himself, suddenly feeling very small.

Do I have a choice?

"I don't think I can go back to the Agency now. I still need some space," Apollo said. It wasn't entirely a lie, but he wished he were saying it for different reasons. "Actually, can you tell Mr. Wright? Like, ASAP? So he doesn't have to worry about me coming into work."

"He wouldn't be concerned about that, Forehead…" Klavier mumbled. "Still, I'll pass it along."

Apollo leaned against the wall, the tension in his limbs seeping away. It was reassuring to have some control over the situation—even if it was through someone else. "Thanks, Klavier."

Klavier didn't say anything for a moment. Apollo stared at his screen, wondering if the call had been cut off.

"Um, hello? I don't think I can hear—"

"Apollo. Listen. If you are not comfortable with the Wrights, then…stay with me, at least."

Apollo stood, speechless.

Klavier kept going, each sentence spoken faster than the last.

"I have a spare room. It's no trouble." Klavier started. "There are police here as well, I know, but—"

Apollo's mouth curved into a frown. "Klavier, I—"

"It's too dangerous." The prosecutor pressed on, ignoring Apollo's attempts to stall for more excuses. "I can help you ignore the officers. You'll never have to see them. I'll make sure of it."

"It's just, I really—"

"This is just for now, ja? Surely you can tolerate me for—"

"Look—"

"Please. Don't stay alone."

Klavier breathed deep. Apollo decided to listen.

"I have a terrible feeling," the man said at last. And he sounded so genuinely sincere, so unbelievably weary, that Apollo considered giving in anyway.

Behind him, Kristoph coughed.

Too late for that.

"I'm sorry…" Apollo began. He could almost see Klavier's slumped shoulders, heavy with disappointment. "Everything's fine here. I swear, I'm fine."

"Alright."

As he suspected—the man sounded utterly defeated. Even though there was nothing he could do about it, Apollo still felt the urge to try and fix things somehow. He hated making Klavier feel this way. The only realistic option he had was ending the call, if only to stop Klavier from suffering.

The worst choice wins.

"Anyway, it was nice talking to—"

"I will visit you, Justice. I can come today."

Apollo's blood turned to ice.

"No."

Klavier must have sensed the sudden hostility, because the prosecutor's tone grew much more hesitant. "Why? Is it the weather? I can—"

"You can't come here," Apollo stated. He wasn't usually this blunt, but circumstances had changed him. "I'm saying no."

"You don't sound well, Apollo," Klavier said. Apollo felt the panic in his system reach critical levels. "Let me—"

"I don't want you here."

A sharp breath.

"What…?"

Klavier's voice had fallen soft. Apollo resisted the urge to bite his tongue again, feeling his brain strain to force the words out of his mouth.

"I don't want to see you anymore, Klavier. Just…stay away from me."

Apollo waited, allowing some time for it to sink in. He knew it was right, of course. Objectively, there was no other way to destroy every path possible than to tear apart whatever relationship they already had.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

Apollo muted his side of the conversation for a moment, taking a minute to just…be. He didn't want Klavier listening in as he banged the side of his head against the wall—

"Justice. Let him come."

Apollo jumped when Kristoph's hand fell on his shoulder, whipping around at the whisper. Kristoph pushed up his glasses and nodded.

"You want me to—?" Apollo said, perplexed beyond belief. Kristoph folded his arms.

"Let him come here," Kristoph repeated, "I will allow it."

The murderer tapped a single finger. A show of restrained impatience.

On the other side of the line, Klavier had finally processed Apollo's cruelty.

"Oh." Klavier said. Raw dejection warped his words into a miserable tone. "I had no idea…"

No, this wasn't right. Even Kristoph agreed. Apollo raced to find ways to take back what he said.

"It's not your fault." Apollo began. That was it—if he mentioned that it was just nervousness, this would all go away.

"Actually, I…I…"

He left off, noticing just how intently Kristoph was focused on the conversation.

Why say yes to this?

The realization hit Apollo like an electric spark, shocking him into sanity and burning away his desire to "fix" things.

The plan. His special plan.

Apollo knew what it was.

He's going to torture him…and make me watch.

"I realized, recently, how much you remind me of your brother," Apollo continued. Disgust coursed through his bones as Kristoph's blazing eyes met his own. "Every time I hear your name. Every time I look at your face. I just see him, everywhere, like he's haunting me." His voice lowered. He kept his gaze locked on Kristoph, pure fury invigorating his defiance. "It's killing me, Klavier."

"I see…"

Klavier had grown almost too quiet to hear.A pang of sorrow shot through Apollo's heart.

This has to end.

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Apollo—"

He hung up.

Kristoph shook his head, lips pressed together in a thin line."You should have listened, Justice."

"Shut up."

Apollo muted any future communication from Klavier and navigated to his texts. It was going to hurt, but he had to see them. He'd been in the dark for too long.

I need to know about the outside.

The first text was from his landlord. He opened it by instinct, just before realizing that apartment issues were another stressor he didn't need.

WARNING ALL RESIDENTS: Winter storm moving in this Sunday. City advisory to evacuate building. This street will not be cleared until Thursday. You will be trapped in your apartment. If you have work or other obligations: please consider moving out for a few days!

Thank god it wasn't about rent. Apollo exited it as fast as he could, barely taking time to muse on the fact that he'd missed a whole weather spectacle.

One text from Clay. He couldn't resist checking it.

Hey! I'm going to be in town next week. Tell me when you're free to hang!

Was "never" an option? Apollo briefly considered sending out a string of messages screaming "help"...only to remember that Kristoph would probably disembowel him before Clay would even read them.

Next…Trucy and Phoenix.

The numbers themselves were concerning. Trucy had sent him 200 texts…Phoenix had sent him two, along with one voicemail. Apollo steeled himself, deciding to check Trucy's first.

Polly! Could you get me some marshmallows? I swear it's for a magic trick.

Hmmm…I get it. You're ignoring me.

Please, please, pleaseeeeee…

It started out innocent enough. Apollo scrolled past half a dozen "hellooooo"s, trying to get to the more informative parts.

It's snowing outside! You saw the storm warning right? Is your signal dead?

Well if it's dead I guess you won't be reading this.

Just message me once you get this!

More about the storm. If Kristoph hadn't kept the blinds closed and the room dark, Apollo may have been able to witness it.

So far, he'd learned nothing. But Trucy's messages were getting shorter now. Shorter…and, in a way, sadder.

She moved from sending him memes about the storm to messages with just a question mark. She made short jokes about him ignoring her, ending each with "haha just kidding!" Then even those disappeared, replaced with single letters sent sporadically through the day. "H", "F", "L", "T", "A" …and many more, each as a separate text. A last-ditch effort to get him to check his phone.

Then, he reached the end.

Why aren't you answering? Daddy won't tell me.

Is it because of me?

Please answer

That was it.

Apollo checked the time that the last message had been sent. Sunday, 12:07 AM…way past Trucy's bedtime. He imagined her lying awake, the light of her phone illuminating her troubled face, as she finally accepted that she was never going to receive an answer.

What day is it?

Today was Monday. 1:46 AM.

It had just turned Monday.

By now, Trucy was already asleep. She had given up on him almost two hours ago, after all.

A strange thought occurred to him.

It's really late…why did Klavier pick up?

Unless…

He woke up because he saw it was me.

This was too painful. He considered shutting the whole thing down and handing the phone to Kristoph, along with his will to live.

There was still one more person. Apollo sucked in a gulp of air, trying and failing to prepare himself.

Kristoph watched as he tapped on Phoenix's name. The man loomed over him, reading alongside Apollo.

Hey, kid. Call me when you get this. I need to talk to you.

That was from Saturday afternoon…one day after they'd fallen out with each other. It made sense why Phoenix would sound casual.

The next message was from Sunday evening.

Apollo, I know you're a busy guy. Give me a call. Let's talk this out.

Nothing else.

A tinge of misery tainted Apollo's brain. Unlike Trucy, Phoenix didn't seem worried…at all. Sure, he asked Apollo to contact him, but Apollo had gotten messages like this from him before. Mostly about cases. Sometimes about housework. Never about anything personal.

"Play his message," Kristoph ordered. Apollo wasn't sure if he himself wanted to hear it, but Kristoph's close presence combined with Phoenix's distant impression was making him anxious.

Here it was…from Monday, 1:34 AM. A mere ten minutes ago.

Apollo pressed it.

"Hey, kid. It's me. Sorry it's so late. With the storm, I assumed you weren't going to come in tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know that that's okay."

Apollo pressed his back to the wall, sliding down into a crouch. Of course that's all that Phoenix would say to him. After all…

I'm not like Trucy. I'm not his—

"Well, actually…we haven't heard from you in a while. I guess I just got worried," Phoenix admitted. Despite his gloominess, Apollo found it comforting to hear the man's voice again. "And, the truth is…Apollo, I wanted to say sorry."

Apollo's eyes widened.

Sorry?

"I think you know why, but I'll say it anyway," Phoenix said. Apollo hung on to the man's every breath. "I never should have doubted you, kid. I thought I was being transparent, but honestly…I was just scared. I didn't know how big of an impact Gavin had on you, and instead of just telling you that like a normal human being, I panicked."

Phoenix sighed. It wasn't like his usual exasperated sighs… nor was it an exhausted one.

He's regretting it.

"You don't have to tell me whatever secrets you might have. I'll be there to listen if you want," Phoenix continued. "Frankly, it was wrong of me to assume that you were having trouble processing something, just because I was." Phoenix paused for a second. That wasn't nearly enough time for Apollo to digest those words. "But if you're actually having trouble…and you really do feel like you're about to snap…look, we'll just talk about it. I'll be right here."

A weak laugh. It barely broke the tension, but it was obvious that Phoenix was trying.

"I know I can be an idiot sometimes, Apollo. If you could just trust me this once…or understand, at least…that'd be more than I deserve."

Apollo's fingers were shaking so fiercely that the phone nearly slipped out of his grasp.

"Give it to me," Kristoph demanded. Before Apollo could react, the man leaned over and plucked the device from his hands.

That was all it took for Apollo's mind to swirl into a frenzy.

"Wait. It's not over." Apollo shot to his feet, his mouth moving faster than his mind. "He's not done speaking—"

Between them, snippets of Phoenix's message kept playing.

"Oh, and Apollo? I know you said you're not my—"

"I've had enough of these pathetic platitudes." Kristoph hissed. The man held the phone away when Apollo tried to reach for it, his slender arm stretching up high. "Don't be petulant, Justice—"

Images of decking Kristoph in the face flashed across Apollo's mind. Sure, he'd get stabbed, but perhaps...it would be worth it.

"Give it back." Apollo said. He dropped his hands to his sides, fingers closing into fists.

"You and Trucy, you're both—"

"Spineless." Kristoph interrupted, speaking over Phoenix's audio. "Your threat, that is."

A strange feeling started warping Apollo's rationality. He felt it ebb from deep within his chest, as if whatever had been festering there had just been released.

"You're not this cruel, Kristoph. I know."

Apollo's tone was firm, yet steady. He took a few paces forward.

Phoenix's voice echoed in the brief silence. "…if that hurts you. Still, I just want you to—"

Kristoph shut off the phone. Apollo continued to edge closer to him.

"I'd rather you avoid analyzing me," Kristoph said. "Only fools claim to know each other well."

The murderer backed away at Apollo's advance, each step tracing a path back to the mirror. Apollo knew what that meant. It was a clear sign, an action saying, "you stay in your space, and I'll stay in mine."

Apollo didn't care for space any longer.

"I'll keep our agreement." Apollo stated. "So much as a word, and you can skin me. Just let me hear the end of that message."

He sounded calm, but that was only because he was forcing himself to be. It took every fiber of his being to stop himself from entertaining the visceral thoughts swarming his brain, each more gruesome than the last.

Reach over and break his fingers. Grab his hair and drag him forward. Dig your nails into his skin, claw out his eyes, rip out his tongue—

It was sick. He was because those ideas occurred to him...rather, because he was actively considering each one.

"Did you think about what Wright was saying?" Kristoph questioned. When Apollo didn't respond, he scoffed. "Quite a brilliant apology. Begging you for trust so you can remain blind to his faults."

Kristoph's back pressed against the mirror. Apollo stood across from him, waiting.

"For someone like you, such promises are irresistible." The murder held his chin high, waving the phone in the air. "That a person will always be watchful for you. That words will solve everything."

"Stop this, Kristoph." Apollo said. He held out his hand, no longer bothering to hide his frustration. "I don't care about what you think. At least let me listen to the whole thing."

Kristoph's eyes flashed. "Does nothing I say matter to you anymore, Justice?"

"No."

Zero delay in answering that one. Apollo continued staring at Kristoph, gesturing towards the phone.

"The end. I swear." Apollo coaxed.

And Kristoph hesitated.

It was only for a fraction of a second, but the look was unmistakable. Eyes glancing away. Gaze drifted to the device. Said device remaining clasped in the man's hand, stuck in limbo between being kept and being returned.

"Is this truly important to you?" Kristoph asked.

Apollo nodded. "Yes. It is."

Kristoph graced Apollo with a small smile. He held out the phone for the boy to accept, its edge just touching Apollo's fingertips.

Apollo moved to grab it. He couldn't.

In the instant it had taken him to understand Kristoph's change of heart, the man had drawn his arm back and chucked the phone across the room.

Apollo's heart leapt into his lungs. He looked past Kristoph and into the mirror's reflection, watching it hit the adjacent wall and drop straight to the ground. A sharp crack whipped through the air.

He rushed to the area the phone fell. Glass shards lay scattered all along the ground. Deep, fractured lines dug into the phone's screen, and one of its edges was dented. He cradled it in his hands, not caring that it was cutting open his palm.

No matter how many times he pressed the button, it wouldn't turn on.

"That's your farewell to Wright," Kristoph said.

And just like that, Apollo snapped.