I'm actually nervous about this chapter, but I'm not sure why. D:

Possibly because I wrote a good chunk of it at 4 in the morning. O_O

Apollo was currently facing a dilemma—namely, how to ask Klavier out.

He thought maybe doing it over the phone would spare him the embarrassment of letting Klavier watch his face fill up with color, but as soon as the prosecutor had picked up, in his nervousness Apollo had instinctively slammed his cell-phone shut.

He later reflected that this was a pretty wimpy way to ask someone out anyway.

"What's wrong you?" Trucy had scolded him, "You know he's not going to say no."

And although Apollo hadn't given her the pleasure of admitting it, he knew she had a point, so just why was this so nerve-wracking?

(Because surely there's a better way to go about this?)

(Because I don't know what I'm doing.)

(Because it will change everything.)

"Because you're nothing but a big chicken Polly, that's why," Trucy had stared at him, hands firmly on her hips, "Am I really going to have to resort to asking him out for you?"

"No!" Apollo had panicked, "Please! I have to do this myself!"

"You're eagerness is cute Polly, really, it is, but none of that matters if you don't actually ask him."

And so it came to be that Apollo was standing outside the prosecutor's office, giving his nerves a final, internal pep talk. It usually worked better when he braced himself out loud, but he had made his way over on a sort of whim, and it would kind of defeat the purpose of asking Klavier out if he first shouted his plans out in the hallway.

He wasn't even sure what he was going to say yet, but he'd had enough practice in court of sort of making stuff up as he went along, so he figured whatever came out of his mouth wouldn't be too bad. Besides, Apollo hated to confess, but he had just a bit of an impatient personality, and he was sure if he didn't do something about this fast, he was very liable to do or say something proportionately stupid to the amount of time he put this off—or worse, Trucy would do it for him.

He took a breath and moved to knock on the door.

To his surprise, it opened before his fist could even connect with the wood. Beyond it was the genuinely perplexed expression of one Klavier Gavin.

"…Herr Forehead?"

(This is it Justice! Win him over with your smooth talk!)

"—wanted to talk with you," he gulped.

Great—half a sentence. All he'd managed was half a sentence.

Klavier didn't exactly seem unenthusiastic about this, but he seemed distracted all the same.

"Ah…," he rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing away thoughtfully, "that's…well, it's fine. I'm just a little busy right now. Perhaps another time?"

"How long will you be busy? Maybe I can accompany you?" Apollo blurted out, afraid that if he let Klavier walk away now, he might not be able to work up his courage a second time.

"I…," it was rare to see Klavier struggling for his words.

Apollo started to feel a sense of apprehension in his stomach, "…Klavier?"

The prosecutor let out a deep breath through his nose, then faced Apollo with complete seriousness, "I'm going to visit my brother."

Instantly, all thought of asking Klavier out fled from the defense attorney's mind.

All things considered, Klavier was being very generous in letting him tag along. Apollo had genuinely been meaning to visit Kristoph one of these days, because honestly? There were just too many unanswered questions, most of them starting with, (Why?)

He had put it off, because there had never been anyone he felt comfortable going with, but the thought of facing his mentor in that dark, cold cell by himself made his stomach turn. He was a little concerned that he was intruding on what Klavier might've wanted to be a private moment between himself and his brother, but Apollo was all too willing to accept the prosecutor's offer to join him.

It was the strangest thing, walking down a hallway made of bars and not walls—even though he knew he was on the outside of the cells, it still felt remotely entrapping to be surrounded by all that metal. Rather than have to look at any of the faces leering at them from within the cells, Apollo kept his eyes trained on the broad expanse of Klavier's shoulders.

(Has he always been this tall compared to me…?)

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Big Shot Prosecutor and Lawyer Boy."

Apollo nearly walked right into Klavier when the later stopped moving.

Still looking straight ahead into the hallway, Klavier said quietly, "I'm not here to see you, Daryan."

Apollo's head whipped towards his right. He was surprised see a figure smirking bitterly at them from behind the bars, sitting on his bed and leaning back with his hands smugly behind his head. He was surprised because the man staring back at him was hardly recognizable as the Daryan he remembered—his face was clear of any stage make-up and looked dull and uneven in the poor lighting, he was dressed simply in prison slacks, and most strikingly of all, his hair was limp and pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"Oh yeah? Should've figured—after all, you must be so busy with your career and your adoring fans."

"Daryan," Klavier warned.

"It's not like we were friends, or band mates, or anything."

Klavier fell silent, still staring straight ahead.

"By the way, how is the gang all doing? I heard we're all broken up—for good. All that talk about 'brothers through thick and thin.' What bullshit—you're the one who put me in here."

"We should go, Klavier," Apollo piped up abruptly, pushing gently at the prosecutor's arm.

"You just stood there and let it happen—hell, you helped lawyer boy here do it," Apollo bristled at this, "You left me hanging on that witness stand—this is all your fault."

"Hey!" Apollo barked, his temper rising, "Klavier was just doing what was right! You should try it sometime and take responsibility for your own actions!"

Before he could continue, he felt a hand close over his wrist.

He looked up to see Klavier imploring him to calm down, "Don't let him get to you Justice. His kind of anger and bitterness is contagious."

"You think you're so righteous, don't you?"

Daryan had moved from his bed to the edge of his cell.

His hands griped the bars as he sneered, "Let's all look down on the murderer—it's so easy from up on your high horse. Well you know what? You and me? We're the same."

Apollo, despite Klavier's hold on his arm, couldn't help shouting, "He's nothing like you! Take it back!"

"Sure," Daryan leaned back, arrogant smile and all, "When pretty boy here shows any remorse for condemning his own brother to death."

If this line had any effect on Klavier, he did not show it. He merely gripped Apollo's wrist a little tighter and pulled, turning unceremoniously to continue down the hallway without another word. Apollo watched Klavier carefully, how precise his movements were, how each step followed firmly after the other.

He would've believed Klavier hadn't cared at all, if it weren't for the way his bracelet hummed softly against his skin, and how inches above it, Klavier's hand shook to the same, ceaseless rhythm.

Apollo did not dismiss the way it made his chest squeeze and tighten.

For someone in solitary confinement, Kristoph seemed quite comfy, if the room was anything to go by.

And since there were a million questions swimming around in his head, Apollo figured it was best to get the most trivial ones out of the way first, "It's rather…decorated in here, isn't it?

Kristoph pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Let's just say I still have friends in high places."

Klavier started calmly, "It's been awhile…hasn't it?"

Kristoph shrugged in his seat and continued brushing an emery board against the tips of his nails, "That's not my fault. Honestly, I thought you'd have come here sooner."

His hands stilled for a moment while his eyes shifted up, looking straight at Apollo from over his lenses, "I also imagined you would've come without company. Is that why it's taken you so long to visit me? Too afraid to come on your own?"

Apollo burned under Kristoph's gaze—it was like he was a fresh intern, all over again. He felt split open, like Kristoph was reading his very thoughts.

He quickly suppressed anything that even vaguely resembled, (I'm currently infatuated with your younger brother.)

"I-I…I wanted to come, sir," the formal salutation left his mouth automatically, out of an ingrained sense of obligation.

The way Kristoph's lips curled up made Apollo shudder.

"Now, now. There's no need for formalities here—you're hardly my charge anymore."

"Sir—"

"Reserve that title for Phoenix. That is who you work for now, and I'll not have you putting me at equal status with that man, is that understood, Justice?"

Apollo flinched, but felt some of the tension slip away when Klavier placed a hand protectively on his shoulder, "You should be thankful, brother, that Justice still has some level of respect for you. There are few who do, nowadays."

Kristoph's eyes slid over towards Apollo again, and it made him want to hang his head, like a child being scolded, "Yes, and we certainly know who to thank for that, don't we?"

Apollo flushed, "Si—Mr. Gavin, I was only doing my job."

Kristoph laughed, threading fingers through impossibly silky strands of hair, "Oh, you don't have to worry—I harbor no resentment in your favor at all, Justice. You were merely a pawn in all of this—your naivety and foolish eagerness to please were the perfect vehicles for Phoenix's ploys. You played right into his hands, like a good little subordinate. I taught you too well, it seems."

Apollo quickly shut his eyes tight against what felt like the onset of tears—he could feel his eyes water, and he fought it with every fiber of his being. It shouldn't have felt like this, like his insides were getting ripped apart and put on display, and Kristoph was the coroner, declaring that he could see nothing of any worth.

He could hear Klavier somewhere next to him, "Stop it Kristoph, you're better than this. This petty bitterness…it's not you at all."

Kristoph continued filing his nails, too calm, too cool and composed, "On the contrary. I assure you this is as me as I've ever been—you'll never find anyone as genuine as a dead man walking."

"Brother…"

Kristoph looked Klavier resolutely in the eye, "I have no brother."

The silence was harder to swallow than anything Klavier could've said in response. Apollo felt Klavier's presence at his side fade away as, fists clenched at his sides and shaking, he walked briskly out of the room. Unsure of himself, he glanced back at Kristoph, not knowing whether or not to stay and say something in response to this development, or to go out and chase after the prosecutor.

When Kristoph continued sitting in his chair as if nothing had happened, tapping his file against the leg of his pants without a drop of remorse in his posture, Apollo promptly chose the latter.

Klavier hadn't gone too far. As soon as Apollo exited solitary confinement, he spotted him sitting with his back pressed against the hall, head tilted back and eyes closed.

He approached carefully, "Klavier?"

He slowly bent at the knees and crouched down, placing his arms on top of his knees and his chin on top of his arms.

Klavier breathed in heavily, but did not open his eyes, "Justice."

"I'm here," he said softly.

"My best friend. My brother," Apollo listened, offered his presence and nothing more, "They're both gone. They're already dead."

For a moment, all Apollo could do was look at him, watch the way his chest heaved to a laboriously steady rhythm and imagine how it must've felt to walk into work every day and find no one he could really relate to, to come home to an empty house filled with nothing but papers with headlines about Kristoph's impending execution. Nothing, no-one—only casual work acquaintances and people who only knew what they read about him in magazines, and yet still all he had to give were smiles.

"Klavier."

His tone was firm, and when Klavier finally opened his eyes, he made sure that what the prosecutor saw was a set determination and a calm demeanor.

Slowly, genuinely, he said, "You deserve something good in your life."

And when he shifted so that his knees were on the ground, when he leaned in and kissed him, the only thing Apollo regretted was that he hadn't done this sooner.