I was in Okinawa for a week and couldn't type this up until just now, so sorry that it's a little late. The good news however, is that during that week I managed to write two whole chapters! So you should be seeing another update pretty soon, as soon as I proofread it.

Today was Tuesday, and he wasn't working on a case, which meant that Apollo had plans for the day. Or at least, that had been the case until Ema had called.

"Oi, I'm coming over in ten minutes, don't go anywhere."

"Ema, I was just about to leave the office for the day."

"It'll only be for a few minutes, I just need to drop something off."

Apollo sighed and put his briefcase back on the desk, "What is it?"

"It's that…thing you were wearing the other day," Apollo grimaced, "I don't know why Klavier doesn't just give it to you himself on your date."

He made a choked sort of noise, "My what? Who told you—"

"Don't even try to deny it—he's had the most disgusting smile on his face all day—it's the one he gets when he has a date, and he told me himself you two were having dinner."

"Ema, you can't seriously think that Klavier and I are…"

"I know, I can't believe it. I could've sworn you were straight. I made a bet with Trucy and everything."

Apollo's shoulders sagged, "I am straight."

"Well anyway, at least people will stop thinking him and I are going out."

"Ema no, this is all baseless conjecture, you can't let this spread around, we're not going out!!"

"Whatever, Klavier should be doing his own errands anyway and I don't have time for this. I'm coming over."

"Ema, wait—"

Click.

"It's not a date."

Ema gave him one of her classic 'I don't give a damn' looks, "Uh-huh."

"It's not, it's just dinner."

MUNCHMUNCHMUNCHMUNCHMUNCH.

"Ema!"

"Look, you can still technically call it dinner all you like, but that doesn't make it any less of a date."

"It's not a date."

She sighed, obviously not trying very hard to seem concerned.

(Sure, fine, whatever. Be in denial.)

"Okay, it's not a date," she leisurely popped another Snackoo into her mouth, "But does he know that?"

Apollo opened his mouth to retaliate but then froze, because he realized that this was actually a very legitimate question.

"Oh god, I don't know," he said quietly.

"You're not very good at this social interaction stuff, are you?"

"I…" Apollo gaped.

"Aren't you supposed to be a lawyer? Your whole job is supposed to revolve around communication, right?"

"I don't…"

"It's alright, I'm not so great at it either. Of course, that's just because I choose not to be, not because I'm incapable."

"Ema." She looked at him, "Shut up."

Phoenix gave him a look, the kind that involved a quarter turn of the head and said, "Dinner? Is it at his place?" he paused and gave Apollo a knowing wink, "Who knows, you may not have to do your Chords of Steel exercises in the morning."

"Oh god."

The hue of Apollo's face gave off the impression that it wasn't quite sure whether it wanted to showcase a state embarrassment or nauseousness. It was a rather royal shade of purple.

"Oooh, that's a new color for you! Granted, it goes horribly with your vest."

"Mr. Wright, I am not here so you can poke fun at me. Just please make sure Trucy gets that," he pointed to the bundle of cloth he had handed to Phoenix earlier, "I've seen quite enough of it."

"Come on though, you have to admit—you seem to turn red at the drop of a hat," the corners of his lips curled in a way that made Apollo wary, "Or is it just because a certain somebody's been chasing you recently?"

"I'm leaving."

He turned towards the door.

"You know, I still think you should give me a chance!" Phoenix called after him.

"Goodbye!"

The door slammed unkindly behind him, and Phoenix chuckled to himself, "He makes it too easy."

It was Tuesday, he wasn't working on a case, and there were finally no distractions keeping him from his plans for the day. Apollo walked down the hallway, so familiar and nostalgic, until he came upon a worn out mahogany door. Beyond it he could hear a whole range of cacophony, thuds and voices and enthusiastic screams. It brought a smile to his face.

With his heart feeling light, he opened the door and was immediately bathed in the mirthful cries of, "Apollo!!!"

"Guys, guys! It's Apollo!"

"A-pah-woooh!"

"…polo?"

He hadn't even made it a foot past the door before he was swarmed up to his knees in children. He looked down at the figure at his side, a small girl who had wrapped her arms and legs around his calf.

He smiled warmly at her, "I need that Allie."

She grinned at him.

"Hey! You finally lost that tooth!"

She promptly ran off, squealing happily.

"Allie, watch it! Don't step on Jason's head."

Apollo's ears perked up at the voice behind him. Slowly, he turned around, and the various children attached to his limbs made off to continue playing.

Still in good spirits, he greeted the woman in front of him, her eyes narrowed by her full smile, "Hello…Ms. Hawthorne."

She laughed quietly, "There's no need to be so formal with me, Apollo. I haven't been your matron for quite some time now."

And it was true—he'd left the orphanage four years ago, and even then, she'd only arrived two years prior. Two years she had been his matron, two short years filled with kindness and affection, filled with wonderful stories about a remarkable man with a remarkable talent for saving people. It was her stories that inspired him to do something meaningful with his life, and he owed all his hopes and dreams to this one woman—which was why it broke his heart to say what he was about to say.

She started it, "It's been awhile since your last visit."

"I've been…busy."

"I know," she absentmindedly brushed her hand over the head of one of the passing children, "I've been following the papers. I'm so proud of you, Apollo."

"Then you know though, don't you? I…I met him."

She said nothing, only nodded.

"You should go see him."

Her smile was tighter now, sadder, more strained.

"I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."

"That's enough, Apollo."

"But, Iris—"

"Apollo."

The look she gave him indicated that the notion was out of the question. He bit his lip and remained silent.

She sighed, "It was a long time ago—too long. Anyhow, it would only be a burden to him."

"But you're his friend!"

"That's why it's better this way."

"Why, because he doesn't feel the same way as you?"

She looked away.

"You never said anything, but I…I figured it out."

She breathed out, her expression softening, so tired and weathered, but still so very kind.

She moved a hand to straighten his lapel, the way she used to when he was younger, "You always were so straightforward."

"Nobody leaves home just to look after an out-of-the-way orphanage."

"I'm paying my debt to society."

"But an orphanage?"

"Nobody should be without the love of a parent. I should know."

"An orphanage in this part of the city?"

Her hands froze momentarily, but then continued to smooth the fabric over his shoulders, "…Observant. You were always very observant as well. Very, very observant…"

He stilled her hands at the wrists, "Iris, you came all this way, you made it a point to stay this close, and you're not even going to talk to him?"

"…it won't work."

"You've never even told him how you feel."

She looked him square in the eye, face stern and resolute, "It won't work."

"You don't know that."

Iris shut her eyes, "You don't understand."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, "Try me."

She looked at him, silent, then let out a deep breath, "I will never be able to say how I feel without reminding him of…someone else. Someone who caused him a great deal of pain. I cannot, will not do that to him. We can only ever be friends."

Apollo watched her carefully, noting the way she kept her head held high, how she carried herself in the stance of someone who had made their choice a long time ago and was determined to see it through. It occurred to him that there was more to this than he was aware of, part of the bigger picture he was missing, because fortitude such as this did not just come from nowhere. There were a thousand questions burning at the back of his throat, but for once, he thought before he spoke.

Apollo didn't pretend to understand, but he took one of her hands, so small in his despite her being older, and silently thanked her for at least letting him try.

"Alright, fine. You can only be friends. I still think he'd want to see you."

For a split-second, he thought he saw the smallest of chinks in her resolve, a momentary lapse in breath as the idea warmed itself in her mind, but then it was gone before he even felt the equally short-lived pinch at his wrist.

She brought her other hand to hold his, forming a cocoon around it, "And that is why I cannot bring myself to go—he would never let it be a onetime thing. He would make it a point to keep me in his life, the way he does with everyone important to him."

She paused, and Apollo never thought she had ever looked as much her age as she did at that moment, tired and seasoned, "To be that close to him and yet never able to express how I feel…it is a fate worse than never seeing him."

Neither of them said it, but they both knew that the conversation was unquestionably over.

It was five after six and he was following Klavier out into the parking lot, and Apollo was nervous, but that pretty much went without saying.

He was aware that he was walking a thin line—all he wanted to do was make up for being a jerk, but he wondered if maybe he was going about it the wrong way. For all he knew, this could only make things worse.

He wasn't leading Klavier on, was he? All he'd done was accept an invitation to eat out—that's all this was, just dinner.

But then, what if this meant more to the prosecutor than Apollo wanted it to mean? What was he supposed to do, call the whole thing off? Apollo ran a million permutations in his mind, all the possible things he could say or do, all the possible outcomes, all of which ended in him being an outright jerk. It just wasn't fair, because Klavier really was a good person who didn't deserve to get his heart broken like this, because no matter what he did, that was exactly how this was going to end.

The only scenario Apollo could think of where this didn't happen involved the words, "Klavier, I feel the same way," and that was not happening, because Apollo was not in the habit of telling lies.

It occurred to him in some part of his mind that Klavier was making idle chit-chat with him, but none of it really registered as the guilt ate away at his thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, and he only barely managed to follow in Klavier's footsteps. When he didn't immediately take the helmet that was offered to him, Klavier spoke up.

"Are you alright, Justice?"

He took the helmet solemnly and stared at it, "…is this a date?"

He said it before he could stop himself. There was a silence as he could feel Klavier's gaze on the top of his bowed head.

"…Did you want it to be?"

The prosecutor's voice was soft, and Apollo lifted his head to see a small, but unexpectant smile.

"No," he said, unable to be anything but honest.

To his relief, Klavier laughed brightly, "That's what I like about you, Justice—always speaking your mind."

Apollo instantly breathed easier, "So it's not a date?"

"It's not a date."

Klavier swung a leg over the seat of his motorcycle. He didn't seem crushed or heartbroken. Apollo hesitated, one more question lingering at the back of his mind.

"And that's alright?"

Klavier strapped his helmet on, looking wistful, not at all in bad spirits, "It's enough."

He motioned for Apollo to sit behind him.

Apollo started, "Oh! Right."

He hoisted himself onto the seat, completely self-conscious of the fact that it wasn't as easy as Klavier had made it look, and that he probably didn't look half as cool as the prosecutor had doing it. He felt awkward once he was properly seated, hands floating at his sides looking for something to hold. There didn't seem to be anything to grab onto, apart from the, er, obvious…

Apollo could feel his face heating up.

"Shoulders, Justice."

"Right!" he answered all together too quickly, too loudly.

The heat in his face only rose as Klavier's laughter mixed with the roar of the engine.

Dinner was actually going quite well. Klavier had taken them to a nice restaurant in the city, not too fancy, where the price was affordable and the bread rolls were free. Perfect for two colleagues sharing a meal together. A voice at the back of his mind told him to leave it alone, to not spoil the nice mood, but he figured he'd have to have this talk at some point or another.

"Klavier…can I ask you something?"

The prosecutor could sense the shift in the atmosphere and straightened, but kept his posture open, "Go ahead."

Apollo cleared his throat, nervous, "About your…feelings," his voice cracked slightly here, "I…well, the thing is…damn, how do I say this…"

Klavier looked at him patiently.

He coughed again, "I want to know—why me?"

Klavier looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so, "Why not you? You saved me, Justice."

Apollo's hands fidgeted at how quick this response was, "Look, I…I'm flattered, really, but—"

He was cut off when Klavier placed a hand over his, "I understand. You have made your feelings quite clear already."

Apollo blinked and very nearly said something unintelligible, given that his mind had completely blanked out, but the sound got trapped in his throat. Klavier could feel the defense attorney's sudden stiffness and immediately retracted his hand.

"I am sorry."

"I…" he faltered as the gears in his head started turning again.

Then it hit him and he realized what he was doing, what this looked like, and his mouth opened, "Wait, no, it's fine, I was just surprised," he extended his hand, "Really, it's fine."

He fought the urge to turn away and blush, made himself look Klavier in the eye. The prosecutor was silent, still wary, and then Apollo inhaled deeply because he recognized that expression—he had seen it earlier that day, after all.

(It is a fate worse than never seeing him.)

"Klavier, please," he made sure to say it firmly and confidently, "You don't have to be afraid of me," then softer, "I really want us to be friends."

There was another second of silence, but then Klavier's hand met with Apollo's, and they both thought that maybe, surely this could work.

Klavier smiled and smoothed his thumb over the other's knuckles, "You're too good to me, Justice."

A shiver went up Apollo's spine, and he was surprised to find that he didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.

He thought about whether or not this should worry him.