Archive of Our Own ^beta

A barely audible noise came from the corridor – a surprising phenomenon for an ordinary morning at the prosecutor's office. Usually people walked on this floor as if it were made of glass. It was difficult to exist in a collective of busy supporters of absolute privacy and impenetrable raised eyebrows.

Klavier Gavin sighed for the seventh time in forty minutes. This meant he was sighing once every five minutes – a little more often than usual. Of course, he was counting the time – it was part of that strange calming technique suggested by Blackquill. Klavier chuckled. "Suggested" was, of course, putting it strongly. A link sent by email to an ancient YouTube video with a displeased short caption would be a slightly more accurate description.

Perhaps it was some distorted fulfillment of a psychologist's duty, but Klavier wasn't going to judge him. After all, the exercise really worked. At least, it worked enough for the man to find the strength to get up from his chair and walk around the desk, stopping in front of the door.

The phone vibrated unpleasantly in his pocket, reminding him that he was running late. He grimaced, taking it out and casting a quick glance at the time. This time his habit of leaving a dozen reminders before an important event paid off – Klavier would only start being late in fifteen minutes. It took him a few more deep breaths and quick smoothing of his hair before he gathered the courage to step out into the corridor.

Nothing serious. He'd warned in advance that he'd leave early today, handed in all the papers yesterday, deliberately didn't take on the next case that was supposed to be held tomorrow. Ema, it seems, was saying something about the killer using something particularly unpleasant... What was it? Garden shears? A stapler?

The elevator made a quiet ding, opening, and Klavier thoughtfully wrinkled his face in response. Maybe a work folder? He should check who's taking this case... If it falls into the hands of a negligent prosecutor, everything could end very badly. He saw the suspect, this person is definitely innocent – he wouldn't even have been able to lift the murder weapon! If it still wasn't a stapler...

"Gavin-dono, is everything alright?" – a voice that came from somewhere on the right made Klavier flinch and turn around sharply. Simon, as always imperturbable, just twitched his lip and folded his arms across his chest.

"Scheiße, yes, absolutely. What makes you think something's wrong?" – Klavier squeezed out his best smile and snapped his fingers, regretting that there wasn't a wall nearby to lean on. Maybe then his trembling knees would be less noticeable? Damn, did Simon know why Klavier was leaving early today?

A slight smile flickered across Blackquill's face. He moved sharply around the prosecutor blocking the elevator and stepped inside. In response to Klavier's questioning look, the man only chuckled.

"You stood here for a good five minutes, staring at the open door."

Damn, five minutes. Five more and Klavier would start being late, and that...

"I don't want to interrupt your undoubtedly entertaining thought process, but are you going down, or was this a momentary weakness of mind?" – Simon made the prosecutor flinch again. The latter hastily nodded, quickly entering the elevator and watching the metal door slowly close behind him. At times like these, he couldn't help but understand the chief prosecutor with his strange habit of avoiding large moving boxes.

"You're going to the airport," – it wasn't a question. Klavier didn't even need to look at his companion's undoubtedly impassive face to understand this. Damn.

"Before you ask – no, I'm not going. Athena is going," – Simon glanced at the prosecutor beside him who had lowered his head. "And you've been talking about this for the past few weeks."

Klavier didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the tiny panel where the numbers were rapidly decreasing. Simon fell silent, apparently waiting for some response. Or simply not wanting to talk anymore – Herr Samurai was a mysterious person.

"Did you talk to the therapist whose number I sent you by mail?"

"Where's your bird, Herr Samurai?" – Klavier interrupted him.

"At home," – the elevator made a quiet ding, and Simon took one large step, exiting onto the landing. "Taka is a smart bird and knows when not to get in the way. Have a good trip, Gavin-dono."

Klavier didn't answer.

He thought about this while getting into the car and checking the time on his phone once again. He was exactly one minute and several seconds late. Nothing critical, but he'd have to take the short route and cut time on turns.

After all, it would be very sad to be late to a place where he wasn't invited.

Well, perhaps Klavier was being a bit dramatic – if he hadn't been invited at all, he certainly wouldn't have come. This wasn't a party or dinner party that you could brilliantly show up to half an hour late without a special invitation. He pressed on the gas and glanced in the side mirror, checking if his hair had gotten messed up.

He was invited by Trucy Wright, and he really hoped that would be enough. Apollo Justice was returning, and he wasn't going to miss it because the attorney didn't personally invite him to the airport.

...

Klavier was exactly twenty seconds late. When he finally entered the building, smiling at the girl at the entrance who was holding out a sheet for him to sign, the plane should have just landed. The man's eyes instantly darted around the crowd looking for a familiar face.

Any. But preferably not Apollo's face – Klavier probably would have cried if he'd really been late.

Of course, the entire Wright agency was already here. They were hard to miss – Trucy was laughing loudly, showing Athena another trick. A tiny worm of envy stirred inside Klavier, but he quickly crushed it and pulled the most friendly of his smiles onto his face.

"Oh, you're here too!"

Several faces turned sharply in his direction. The prosecutor couldn't help but flinch – even though each of them reflected only sincere interest, such close attention from acquaintances was still... unusual. Did they also think he shouldn't have come?

"Klavier! There you are!" – Trucy's joyful voice pulled him from his trance. The girl seemed to instantly appear next to him and fussed around, not hiding her excited mood. Klavier's lips involuntarily formed into a tiny smile. It was simply impossible to be melancholy next to the girl. Unless it was melancholy for her brother – the prosecutor had been successfully dealing with that for years.

He shook his hair and reflexively reached to adjust his still-not-grown-out bangs. Not the time to think about old feelings, right? They hadn't seen each other for so long, and Klavier just hoped... In fairness, he himself didn't know for what. To restore an old friendship that ended in short correspondence and rare night calls? To see again the face he remembered only from rare photographs and semi-conscious dreams?

Trucy brought him out of his trance by pushing him in the side. Klavier flinched, catching a strange look from Phoenix Wright and a mocking smile from Athena.

"Oh, it's him! Hey, Polly!"

Klavier thought he could happily die right here and now when a shade of familiar color flickered in the crowd. He involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut and took several nervous breaths. How could Trucy do this so... easily. As if there weren't a bunch of misunderstandings and doubts, without regrets about wasted time, without the unpleasant aftertaste from the absence of a goodbye and...

Though, what was he thinking. Those were only his.

Apollo appeared, as always, completely unexpectedly. Klavier was stubbornly peering into the crowd, trying to pick out at least something familiar, when another stranger suddenly raised his face from his phone and stared into his eyes with a somewhat sleepy gaze. Ha. He recognized that gaze in every dream – how could he not recognize it now. An uncertain smile trembled on Klavier's face, but the hand with which he was going to wave in greeting seemed to have turned to stone, unwilling to rise.

His breathing faltered when Apollo's piercing gaze slid over the faces of his friends and stopped on him. Something flickered in the brown eyes that Klavier couldn't make out from this distance – surprise? joy? embarrassment? He could equally have imagined it all from the joy that Apollo remembered him at all.

Trucy was the first to break from her spot. The short man in the unchanging red suit (Klavier was ready to cry from this familiar predictability) quietly gasped when the short girl crashed into him.

"Easy, Trucy! We saw each other not so long ago."

"If for you several years..."

"Months."

"I'm deeply wounded by your cynicism!" – Trucy made a weak attempt to pout, but a moment later buried her face in her brother's shoulder again. A soft tender smile touched Apollo's lips, and he carefully ran his palm over the girl's hair. He continued to smile when Trucy pulled away and excitedly began to quickly tell him something, and with each second it hurt more to watch. Klavier couldn't make himself look away. It wasn't that he hadn't heard Justice's laughter in a long time or had gotten unused to his sharp hairstyle. No, on the contrary. This was so familiar. Apollo laughed loudly when Athena, standing nearby, couldn't resist and hugged both him and Trucy in one movement. Klavier still couldn't stop watching.

He didn't know which of them he envied – Apollo, who was being held so tightly, or his family, for having the opportunity to hold him so tightly. And was there a difference? If Klavier hugged him now, it would be so... wrong. The prosecutor bit his lip, trying not to imagine what kind of dumbfounded look Apollo would give him for even attempting a hug. Would he be angry? Or just surprised? Maybe he'd awkwardly hug him back? They hadn't seen each other for so long, but Klavier could bet both his careers that Apollo's hugs were the most wonderful thing in the world. Absolutely unbiased, of course. And a bit presumptuous. He couldn't remember the attorney ever hugging him even once...

"Prosecutor Gavin," – Klavier's smile faltered for a moment when he heard Apollo's voice. Of course, exactly. He was still Prosecutor Gavin, of course. How could he have forgotten about that? It seemed that over this year and a bit, some edges had smoothed in his memory.

They'd been corresponding since Apollo's sudden departure – perhaps not enough to accurately remember the person standing before him, but enough to remember his caustic remarks and awkward greetings. It was almost pathetic. Now he realized it so vividly. "We're corresponding!" – he told Ema proudly, to which she only nodded slowly and rolled her eyes even more slowly. How could he have thought that was enough? A few messages, obviously, weren't something that could replace this piercing gaze, right now studying him like a long-lost exhibit of a national museum. The man suddenly felt incredible weakness in his knees.

"Herr Forehead, how nice to see you again! Do you come here often?"

Apollo's facial expression instantly became unreadable. Klavier quietly sighed, not removing the smile from his face. He managed it! Not confessing his love in the first dialogue was an easy task only at first glance.

"You haven't changed a bit, Prosecutor Gavin," – something slid in his voice that Klavier couldn't read. He really hoped it wasn't dislike. A pitiful smile froze on his lips, and he hoped no one noticed how he was melting under the gaze of the short man.

Apollo's hand reached for the hair that lay behind his shoulders and picked up one strand... Oh, wait. Klavier slowly blinked, shifting his gaze to an unfamiliar detail. Hair... a strand? Oh. And this was really bad. The prosecutor stretched his neck and instantly froze as soon as Apollo messily shook his head and slightly changed the angle of his head, exposing a piece of his back.

A piece of back, with a long, neatly gathered ponytail of hair resting on it. One of the strands had come loose, and Apollo was now diligently rubbing it between his fingers, answering some question from Trucy. A small hair clip holding the hair together sparkled when the man jerked again, unable to stand still for even a few minutes.

Oh damn, the clip was perfectly matched to the color of the bracelet on his arm. It looked as if it had always been there.

"Uh... Prosecutor Gavin? Is everything alright?" – suddenly Apollo was too close.

His eyes again...

"Your... uh... hair..." – after this phrase, Klavier could have been stripped of his rock star title right here and now, but he simply didn't care.

"Huh? You mean this?" – Apollo casually, as if he wasn't turning Klavier's entire world upside down right now, threw the long ponytail over his shoulder so it could definitely be examined.

Klavier seemed to forget how to breathe for a second. Oh, he was in deep shit.

"It was on a bet with Nahyuta... You know how he can be," – the attorney waved his hand and adjusted the bag on the handle.

"They really do look better in person!" – Trucy jumped and reached out to sift a strand between her fingers. Klavier was forced to shove his free hand in his pocket to avoid giving in to the temptation to do the same. Instead, he tried to convince himself to focus, but his brain stubbornly continued to focus on the wrong things.

"In person?" – his voice seemed to be a good dozen decibels higher. All he could do was hope that none of those present would notice.

Trucy turned around and skeptically raised an eyebrow at him. Oh damn, he was twice as deep in shit.

"I mean, didn't you fly to Khura'in before, fräulein?" – Klavier cleared his throat, trying to return his former enthusiasm to his voice.

"Well, they were shorter then..." – Apollo thoughtfully wound a thin strand around his finger, in as habitual a gesture as was even possible. Klavier was going to die. No, scratch that, help carry bags to Apollo's apartment, completely disgrace himself, return home and only then die. Absolutely and finally.

Only developed professionalism and many years of experience smiling after difficult concerts helped him maintain his composure and silently watch as Apollo, together with the furiously gesticulating Trucy, walked toward the airport exit. Long hair gathered in a ponytail beat out the rhythm of steps on the man's back. Klavier watched the familiar confident gait with fascination and thought that this wasn't the worst way to live the last day of his life. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, but the prosecutor didn't find the strength to turn his head.

...

It wasn't just about the hair. It was about the fact that the person in front of him hadn't changed – it was still the same confident gaze, still the same serious brown eyes, still the same confident walk (which should have been slow, but again and again it was Klavier who couldn't keep up). Time, it turned out, wasn't a barrier – it was only a factor, only a deliberate mockery designed to make everything worse.

For example, giving Apollo long hair. Beautiful! Long hair. As if he knew how to properly comb and style them, as if he was used to it. As if Klavier didn't know him at all now. This, probably, would have been really easier. It's easy to understand that a completely new person doesn't need you, it's hard to pretend you don't care about an old... rival? Friend?

"Oh, and that's it? Your feelings just didn't go anywhere? As if it wasn't obvious from the fact that you wouldn't shut up about Justice-dono for the past..." – Klavier blinked sharply when his internal monologue was interrupted by a low voice from somewhere on the corner sofa. One glance was enough to understand – Blackquill really didn't want to be here. His arms lay pretentiously on his chest, and his eyes were waltzing on the verge of complete eye-rolling. And he definitely looked as if he had something to add.

Klavier groaned and dropped his head into the crook of his elbow, interrupting the other's accusations.

"No, you don't understand, I'm not..."

He fell silent.

Of course, as if it wasn't obvious before. Nothing had changed. Blackquill probably noticed the changes in the man's face, and his eyebrows came together in a menacing house.

"If you're going to continue – no self-deprecating thoughts."

"How could you assume such a thing..." – Klavier laughed, simultaneously shrinking under the piercing gaze of his interlocutor. Lord, why did he work in a place where everyone could see right through him?

Simon interrupted him with a loud chuckle but said nothing. His gaze jumped from Klavier to the walls of the room and got lost somewhere in the windows. Gavin leaned back in his chair, grateful for the brief silence. Of course, what did he expect from a person with a psychology degree? The gloomy man saw right through him, which meant he should understand that the suggestion to just go and tell everything, to put it mildly, wouldn't work. It was only him – maybe not always, but definitely now. Definitely right now. Even considering the night calls and rare trinkets from shared packages that Trucy found endlessly cute and funny, and which Klavier carefully stored in the bottom drawer at home.

They hadn't seen each other... how long? Long enough for Apollo not even to consider him his friend. Klavier suppressed an unpleasant lump rising in his throat and began nervously pulling at his short strands. Being distant wasn't good – but it was... safe.

This wasn't about destroying someone's life – which, as experience showed, he was also excellent at. This was about taking someone's place. Someone who deserved it more.

Someone Apollo deserved more.

A person who would have managed to stay and not be afraid, someone who would have confessed first several years ago, someone who would have managed to change, who would have left with him, who would have loved him not from afar but nearby.

Someone who wasn't Klavier.

How could Klavier take that away from him? Even if he confessed – of course, Herr Justice wasn't cruel enough to cut ties with him. No, he most likely would have agreed to go on a couple of dates out of pity or, which was much more likely, would have awkwardly brushed it off, and their communication would have become extremely... fragmentary. He knew how it happens.

"Let me guess, you're thinking that you won't confess directly, and you'll just keep walking around and around with your shameless inappropriate unprofessional flirting?" – Simon's voice made Klavier flinch again. Damn! He frantically tried to remember what they were talking about before, but didn't find a single comforting thought.

"It's not unprofessional! Herr Edgeworth does it too!"

Simon raised one eyebrow.

"'Unprofessional' – is that all that bothered you?"

In response, Klavier only mumbled something incomprehensibly, dropping his head on the table. The man on the sofa quietly sighed, covering his eyes with his hand.

"You know my advice," – Simon got up, dusting off his vest from non-existent dust, and for a second it seemed to Klavier that something dangerously close to sympathy or, even worse, understanding flickered in his gaze. "Just... this won't lead you to any good."

Klavier didn't raise his head when his colleague was leaving. He silently counted steps and listened to the sound of the opening door. For a second, the figure in the doorway froze.

"Check your email more often," – the prosecutor barely made out the words that the departing person muttered, and a timid tiny smile bloomed on his lips.

Well, at least he wasn't being left to deal with all this alone for now.

...

"I think Klavier is dying of longing for you," – Trucy tossed a piece of chocolate in the air and caught it with her mouth.

"First of all, Trucy, don't play with food, and second of all, what the hell?"

Apollo sharply raised his head from the papers laid out on the table in several surprisingly even columns. Trucy was pleased to note that this phrase wasn't a denial. She mentally gave herself an extra point. Instead of another comment, she simply leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, demonstrating complete indifference with her entire appearance.
Usually Apollo fell for this perfectly. But who knows, maybe after all this time in another country? She cast a quick glance toward the work desk. Apollo's shoulders dropped, and his eyebrows came together in their usual house – the man was definitely thinking about something. Trucy watched as he slowly reached for the strand thrown over his shoulder and absentmindedly tugged it several times. A sly smile slowly bloomed on the girl's face, which she didn't even try to suppress. What was the point? Apollo equally thought she couldn't see him right now. Keeping the old desk was definitely a far-sighted strategic decision.

Even if with a tinge of impulsive attachment – she was adult enough to admit that.

"Didn't you see how he was looking at your hair?"

"My hair?? Are we definitely talking about the same person? He's the one who cut his hair!"

Apollo instantly regretted the words that burst from his mouth. His face instantly began to turn red, and he convulsively gasped for air, trying to return to his former impassive appearance. Which was a useless task – not now, when a literal lie detector was scanning him.

"Oh, come on."

Trucy cast a sly look at him, watching as Apollo's face rapidly reddened and he gripped the pen he was holding tightly in his hands.

"We're not talking about this," – he told Trucy sternly, lowering his gaze to the papers. Only quiet giggling was heard in response.

...

"I mean... what the hell, Ema, we didn't talk for just a couple of days?"

Ema muttered something under her breath and rolled her eyes. The cafe was dark – neither of them liked drinking in noisy bars, so they came to a more decent place. If you could call the small diner on the corner of the streets, which was conveniently located exactly in the middle of the path between the agency and the prosecutor's office, that.

"How should I know? I was in Khura'in with you! I wasn't even thinking about that jerk!"

"Don't lie," – Apollo glanced at the girl. "I know you called each other on Fridays. Mostly to make fun of each other, but still..."

"Only! Only to make fun of each other," – Ema loudly banged her drink on the table, turning an angry look on her interlocutor. "And anyway, why on the first normal day off – mind you, I say normal and mean without strange street food and drinks with pepper – are we talking about that bastard's hairstyle?"

"Because it's good!"

Ema squinted, watching Apollo, who stared into his mug as if hoping to find a lost article of the constitution there. A liquid blush spread across the man's cheekbones, signaling that it was better not to ask him unnecessary questions about the nature of this thought.

"No..."

The girl sighed very heavily and tried to take another sip. The empty glass mockingly clinked, landing on the table, signaling that she would have to deal with this problem on her own.

"Oh, you're already so drunk..." – Ema sighed ruefully and raised her hand, calling the bartender.

"That's the thing, I'm not!"

Ema cast a pitying look at him. The attorney groaned again and slowly leaned back in his chair, raising his gaze to the ceiling.

Apollo didn't know how he was going to survive the next couple of decades in this country. Maybe, while it's not too late, he should buy a ticket back? Convincing Nahyuta to leave tonight shouldn't be so difficult, right?
Apollo groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh damn," – Ema summed up succinctly. "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

...

Surprisingly, over the several years spent without Apollo's constant unobtrusive presence on the periphery, Klavier still hadn't gotten used to his absence. It was so strange to return to this thought again. It was enough to pick up the phone and press a few buttons. It was enough to leave the prosecutor's office building and walk a few blocks. It was enough to make a circle in the evening, enough to go down to the courtroom, enough to look at the crime scene... As if this feeling had never completely disappeared.
Klavier didn't even deny that he could watch this all day. How his rival's eyes begin to burn, how he awkwardly stumbles trying to find another crazy clue, how... He sighed heavily, opening his eyes wide and beginning to drill holes in the ceiling with such intensity that a hole could easily have appeared there.

Well, at least now he had something to compare it to?

A loud, insistent knock came from the direction of the front door, and immediately after it the sound of pressing the door handle. Klavier flinched and opened one eye.

"Herr Samurai, for a person who doesn't knock, you talk too much about the importance of personal space... Huh?"

Large brown eyes, peeking out from behind a stack of papers, stared at him more surprised than questioning. Klavier flinched and tried to impassively remove his feet from the table. Papers flew down, along with several small items, but the prosecutor managed to straighten up in the chair, charmingly smiling at the visiting guest.

Apollo slowly blinked and frowned, casting another, more worried look at the prosecutor.

"I uh... about the next case?"

The prosecutor froze worriedly, trying to look casual. The task wasn't easy, especially considering the papers now scattered around.

"Oh, of course, come in, I..."

"I see you bought a desk," – a familiar mocking tone sounded in Apollo's voice. Klavier suppressed a tiny smile, trying to shove the feeling of pleasant warmth as deep as possible. So familiar. Should he have worried at all?

"So…are you friends with... Blackquill?"

Exactly. He should have. Klavier looked down, trying to suppress the nervous habit of rubbing his rings.

"What kind of questions, Herr Forehead? Are you jealous?" – his attempt to turn everything into a joke failed miserably. Apollo stared at him attentively and shrugged, approaching closer.

"He was the first one you thought of. So what?"

"Of course! He and I are... friends."

"Your hands," – Apollo said this casually, just like once before, at an investigation scene or over a cup of coffee. "You... uh... aren't just friends?"

The man's voice trembled on the last phrase, treacherously offering the prosecutor to come up with the reason for the hesitation himself. But the attentive attention of the brown eyes was now completely focused on Klavier, and he didn't have a second's respite.

Ha, of course he noticed. Klavier forgot who he was talking to. He quickly clasped his hands, making a pitiful attempt to hide them from his interlocutor, but eventually gave up. Sooner or later they would have had to talk anyway, right?

"He... helps me sometimes."

"Helps? Like... a prosecutor?"

"No," – Klavier sighed and got up from the desk. His hands absentmindedly began to wander between the laid-out things, collecting documents into stacks and sorting pencils. "We never talked about it directly, but in some sophisticated sense he can be called my... therapist? We never talked about it, and I don't even know if his diploma is still... uh... valid now, but nevertheless..."

He couldn't raise his eyes and stopping talking was also beyond his strength.

"How pathetic," – a quiet familiar whisper in the corner of his consciousness imperceptibly interrupted the flow of thoughts, – "chattering about such nonsense with strangers?".

Klavier really wanted to pull his hair right now to drive away the unpleasantly familiar voice, but this was definitely among those nervous habits that the attorney standing in his office would definitely notice. Focus. Pull yourself together. Take a deep breath. Put the bitten pencil in the cup with pens, and send the paper signed yesterday to the farthest stack...
Something warm carefully squeezed his hand, and Klavier flinched, blinking. Someone else's fingers carefully, too carefully embraced his palm, pulling a short pencil from his clenched fingers. The prosecutor quietly exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. The main thing was not to raise his eyes and not look into the eyes of the person standing opposite. Right now the fingers were enough – firm, real, warm, which palpably squeezed his hand, as if comforting Klavier.

"Look at me, pro... Klavier."

The prosecutor jerked his head, raising his gaze, and the prepared smile slowly melted. It never had a chance against this open concern in someone else's gaze, the endless care now enveloping him too.
He froze, looking at the serious face of the attorney in front of him and trying to focus on something that wasn't his freckles, hair, the smell of strange spices and herbs. Something that wasn't Apollo Justice.

"Sorry I didn't say goodbye before leaving."

Klavier blinked in bewilderment. Apollo sighed heavily and squeezed the prosecutor's hand tighter for a second before letting go. By inertia, the other man's fingers jerked, trying to catch up with the attorney's palm, but he stopped himself in time, trying to return to the just-said phrase.

"Huh?" – even begging him to hold his hand would have sounded better now than that pathetic sound that escaped his mouth.

"I left without saying goodbye. Friends don't do that," – Apollo sighed tiredly and lowered his eyes to his papers again.

"Oh, don't worry, liebe," – Klavier smiled, trying not to pay attention to how his unfortunate heart jumped after the word "friends". "It's nothing. I understand."

"I worry about many things," – Apollo muttered so quietly that Klavier almost missed this remark.
"Especially now."

"Huh?" – the prosecutor stared at his colleague, blinking in bewilderment.

"Forget it. Just... you," – the man vaguely waved his hand, pointing simultaneously at everything around and at nothing specific. A light reddish powder scattered across his cheekbones. Klavier smiled, unable to look away from this painfully familiar picture. Embarrassed Apollo Justice. Lord, a couple of days ago he was ready to personally kill several people in Khura'in just to see this again.
He made a mistake, habitually sliding his eyes over the figure of his interlocutor, trying to remember every detail. His gaze again caught on the long, carelessly gathered tail streaming down the man's back.

Klavier didn't know whether to thank the gods for this or curse them. Why do some people need to make so little effort to look good?

"About the documents, this concerns tomorrow's case, I think it would be good if you signed the permission in advance and..." – somehow the work chatter didn't spoil the picture unfolding before the prosecutor at all. His interlocutor's eyes dropped and began to dart between the volumes he was clutching in his hands. Klavier's heart jumped and ached unpleasantly. This was also familiar, damn it, all of this was so familiar, even with the new hairstyle and with...

Apollo suddenly sharply blew, trying to remove the fallen strand from his eyes, and Klavier involuntarily held his breath. Damn, was this really happening? He could observe this so clearly, so closely, so... The attorney jerked his head again.

Klavier involuntarily reached across the desk, not taking his fascinated gaze off the person opposite. His hand impulsively reached forward – wanting to touch, to reach, to help, just for a moment... Apollo was still unsuccessfully fighting with the strand when his gaze sharply rose and again rushed straight into the prosecutor's eyes. The latter's hand sharply stopped just a few centimeters from someone else's face, only now giving him time to realize what he was going to do.

Touch. Just for a moment, for a second, gently run through the hair, and then, perhaps, turn the palm and put it on the attorney's cheek to run his thumb over the cheekbone and pull his face and... Oh damn. Now he was under attentive questioning cross-examination. With a very stupid expression on his face. Yes, damn it, exactly the impression he was going to make.

"I... uh... you have a strand out of place," – Klavier tried to squeeze out a laugh, sharply pulling his hand back. Apollo's eyes still followed him attentively – it seemed that strange expression that he couldn't characterize slipped through them again. The next second the attorney snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I would have fixed it if you'd finally taken the papers."

"Schatz, I would have taken them earlier, but it was so pleasant to chat... Since you came to see me for once..."

"I came because Athena just decided to drop by to visit Blackquill..." – the man seemed to ignore Klavier's gesture. He glanced at the stack he was clutching in his hands and shifted his gaze back to Klavier.

"I don't have to explain anything to you," – the man's face frowned, and only the aforementioned stack of papers separated him from his usual folded arms.
Trying to restrain an uninvited smile, the prosecutor reached across the desk again – his hand slid to the stack of papers, intending to quickly pull them toward himself, but Apollo pressed the stack firmly to himself, seemingly not paying any attention to his colleague's shameful trembling at all. Something sharp flickered in the man's gaze, too similar to what appeared only in the courtroom and at the investigation scene. In conversations with friends and at especially funny remarks. In the evenings, during general Monopoly at the agency or in old photographs. Klavier slowly swallowed, afraid to miss this moment, to lose this gaze. The man's eyes glowed with undisguised tenderness and surprise, that very expression for which, perhaps, several hundred years ago wars were waged and kingdoms destroyed.

This wasn't the first time he had touched the man. Lord, they were holding hands literally a few minutes ago. And yet this strange, aching feeling together with the confused person opposite turned Klavier's insides into liquid jelly. He involuntarily leaned forward, lightly, just a few centimeters – enough for Apollo to flinch sharply and pull his hand back. His face became covered with reddish spots as he quickly backed toward the door, groping for the handle with his hand.

"Oh, uh, nice seeing you! Drop by the agency or call or..."

"Herr Justice, we'll see each other at trial in a few days."

"Right. Yes. Then I... Bye!"

And with these words, the rapidly reddening Apollo disappeared behind the door, slamming it shut behind him with a sweep.
Klavier sighed very loudly and slowly lowered his head onto the crook of his elbows.

He screwed up. Oh, he really missed this.

...

This was becoming unbearable, and Apollo Justice was quite capable of admitting it. Klavier hadn't changed, it seems, it was just that the attorney had gotten unused to someone being so... captivating.
With laughter, glances, tiny smiles. He didn't expect that after his return everything would remain so... the same. Unchanged. And it wasn't just about Klavier – the laughter in Trucy's eyes, Mr. Wright's unhurried jokes, Athena's irrepressible optimism. Ema's eyes burning with interest. Klavier's friendly tilt of the head, the spark running through his smile when he looked at him from the other side of the courtroom, the casually combed short haircut with which the prosecutor once burst into the agency...

Apollo sighed heavily and hid his face in his hands. He had simultaneously missed nothing and missed so much.

These couple of weeks he'd spent in the city didn't change anything. It seemed they only made the situation worse. The longer he was near Klavier – the easier it was to remember how hard he was to forget. Suddenly all the sleepless nights for a random call and awkward messages once a week became so insufficient, as if he could do something else, as if...
Apollo shook his head, trying to drive away the nagging thoughts. He entered the courtroom, adjusting his clothes on the go and taking papers out of his bag. There were only about ten minutes left until the session – usually he came early, but this time the bicycle broke down, and asking Athena to give him a ride meant dooming himself to an agonizingly awkward ride in a tiny car together with the chatty girl and Simon Blackquill... Being late wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

Really not the worst. The worst was running into the prosecutor in the corridor with whom you were supposed to meet in court in a few minutes.

"Oh damn, careful!"

When Apollo raised his eyes, Klavier Gavin was staring at him frozen. The attorney raised an eyebrow questioningly, shifting his gaze from his papers to the prosecutor. Apollo didn't have enough time for empty talk. But he couldn't help noticing that Klavier definitely looked... knocked off balance. Which was unusual. Yes, the prosecutor could seem frivolous – but only at first glance. Under this hid a thorough approach and good preparation. It was precisely the seriousness that made Klavier who he was, a combination of seemingly opposite things.

How could Apollo not fall in love?

But now the prosecutor's face reflected deep confusion, and his eyes were darting... over Apollo's clothes? Was he staring? Did Apollo have a stain on his sleeve? The attorney raised an eyebrow questioningly and, surprisingly, got no reaction. Klavier's gaze didn't tear away from his figure.

"You're... looking," – Apollo almost heard Klavier swallow loudly. Damn, it really was a stain.

"Huh? Oh, ja... your... uh... your suit?"

"This?" – Apollo thoughtfully adjusted the sleeves of the tunic. "Got it in Khura'in. My suit didn't have time to dry after washing, so... this is better than just a shirt, right?"

Klavier, standing unusually far away, nervously nodded. Standing so close, Apollo could distinctly trace how the man's temples became covered with sweat and the tips of his ears reddened. Hm, this was something new.

"It," – Klavier was noticeably nervous, and Apollo couldn't understand the reason. Cultural antipathy? He couldn't remember how the prosecutor reacted to Nahyuta during the latter's visit... Damn, had he really changed so much? Maybe he just didn't like the outfit personally? That would be easier to deal with...

"What's wrong with it?" – Apollo frowned. "I don't think you're the one who should say anything about clothes in court..."

The man cut himself off, deciding that starting a joint case with jabs at the prosecutor wasn't the best idea. Especially if the remarks concerned the choice of very tight jeans that smoothly hugged his interlocutor's hips. Not that Apollo was looking or anything.
However, Klavier seemed not to notice his momentary confusion, still gazing fascinatedly at something completely incomprehensible to Apollo.

"It looks... scheiße... it looks good," – a weak, uncertain smile appeared on the prosecutor's face.
Apollo froze. His gaze instantly slid over the figure of the prosecutor in front of him, trying to find the slightest hints of nervous tics. But there was nothing – only light redness on the ears. Oh... Klavier wasn't lying...

"You really mean..." – Apollo muttered, impulsively rubbing the wrist on which the bracelet hung unusually loosely.

"Huh?" – Klavier cast a puzzled look at him.

"Uh... thanks?"

Klavier carefully nodded, still not taking his gaze off the tunic. Apollo slowly began to turn red. His hand slid across the papers, trying to return concentration to the upcoming case.

"Yours... too?" – the phrase sounded uncertain, but it was better than saying nothing. Klavier nervously jerked and again pulled on that fake smile that the attorney both loved and hated. The man quietly sighed, understanding that he wasn't believed. Really, the prosecutor thought that after so many years of friendship seasoned with unrequited love, Apollo wouldn't be able to read something so obvious?

Since when did Klavier even start doubting his appearance?

The attorney cleared his throat, deciding, perhaps, on the most desperate decision of his life.

"Hey, I'm serious, I like your new hai–"

"Oh, mein Gott, look at the time?" – Klavier's too-ringing voice cut his phrase in half. "I have to run, ha-ha, urgent business..."

Apollo's bracelet instantly tightened, but there was absolutely no need for it – he would have recognized Gavin's nervous smile and hair-tugging without any superpowers.

"Wait, we should..."

"Sorry, Herr For... Justice. I have to run, see you later!"

"Wait, hey, we have the same trial!"

Apollo watched with bewilderment as Klavier almost ran out of the courtroom, bumping into several entering people along the way. Well, that was... strange.

...

The trial ended in absolute victory for the Wright agency. Apollo exhaled tiredly, watching as Trucy joyfully ran out of the courtroom and rushed to her father, joyfully retelling him the details of the past case. Phoenix Wright, maybe, had changed a lot externally – he was no longer that sad piano player who dragged his daughter to play underground poker – but, in fact, he had changed little inside. The older man nodded seriously and shook his head in surprise, as if he hadn't been sitting in the hall all this time. Apollo smiled slightly, tilting his head lower so that no one would definitely notice his smile.

A quiet rustle on the right made him return to reality and sharply turn his head, staring straight at the unusually quiet prosecutor carefully making his way to the entrance. This was completely unlike Klavier – it was strange for Apollo even to imagine that the man would simply leave the building without even flashing a smile with signature phrases.
For a moment, an unpleasant feeling stirred inside the attorney. Terrible, did he really miss this... foppishness? Apollo's gaze fell on the unusually quiet man trying to inconspicuously open the door from the rapidly emptying hall, and decided he knew the answer.

"Hey, Prosecutor Gav... Klavier, wait!" – the sharp exclamation seemed to catch the man off guard. He froze in the open doorway while Apollo quickly swept the papers from his stand.

His steps seemed almost too loud and almost too fast, but these were trifles. For some reason, specifically now, letting Klavier go seemed like a crime.
The prosecutor obediently stood in the doorway, nervously rubbing his rings.

"You uh... ahem..." – Apollo suddenly realized he didn't know what to say himself. "You did well... mm... you held up well?"

"Oh, ah... yes, of course. Congratulations on the victory," – it sounded too sad. Klavier smiled weakly, slowly heading toward the exit, but still not taking his gaze off the shorter man. As if waiting to see something... or hear something. Apollo walked beside him, trying to choose the right words. He didn't want to comfort him, he just... what did he even want?

The corridor had managed to empty by the time they approached the exit – the loud silence that had settled between them bounced off the walls like a rubber ball. Klavier raised his head, and the wide smile familiar to Apollo played on his face again.
Damn, he was going to leave? With that sad look and unbearably fast pace?

"I have to go..."

"I need to say something," – the words burst from his mouth as if by themselves.

Klavier tilted his head slightly and nodded, inviting Apollo to continue.

"I really uh... Oh, in the courtroom words are somehow easier to choose, right? I just... it's unbearable to see you like this. Like this," – the man waved his hand, almost hitting his interlocutor. He, however, didn't pay any attention to this at all, not taking his gaze off Apollo's face. "Sad. So sad."

"Herr Forehead, I..."

"Because I care," – Apollo angrily put his hands on the shoulders of the man opposite, making him fall silent. "Because I've never not cared. Oh, am I really going to say this?"

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Because I really like your haircut and your stupid clothes, damn it, even in court. I like how you laugh – whether it's in front of cameras or on a call at half past one in the morning. Because I missed all... this so much," – the man vaguely waved his hand, not raising his eyes to the frozen prosecutor. "Khura'in is an amazing place, damn it, but it's not so beautiful that I would forget about... uh..."

Apollo raised his eyes, resolutely staring straight at Klavier.

"That I would forget about you."

The corridor was quiet. On the other side of the door two women were chatting, laughing loudly between phrases. Apollo realized that his hands were still on the prosecutor's shoulders. He sharply pulled them back and backed away. Klavier was looking at him silently with an absolutely blank expression on his face. No mockery, no habitual sadness – just nothing. For some unknown reason, this only angered the attorney more. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling himself blush.

"Oh Holy Mother, I'm confessing my love to you, can you at least answer something?"

Suddenly someone else's hand jerked him by the sleeve and pulled him along. Blinking in bewilderment, the man stared at the prosecutor who was pulling him toward the nearest door. Oh damn, he screwed up that badly, didn't he?
The nearest door turned out to be a small utility room, with empty chairs and dust on the dim light bulbs.

"Well, damn," – Apollo thought as soon as the door closed behind him, – "this is very nice of him – not to refuse me in public."

Klavier slammed the door sharply and turned to Apollo. Something desperate danced in his gaze, completely incomprehensible to the attorney. Was he... frightened?

"You... really meant it?" – Klavier's voice seemed weak in the suddenly collapsed silence.

"We don't have to change anything, ha-ha!" – Apollo looked away and recoiled backward. What, in the entire universe, suggested to him that confessing right now would be a good idea? "I'll order tickets back right now, Nahyuta didn't take on so many cases, and if you..."

The next moment someone else's lips covered his, and the last phrase was lost in a quiet sigh.

A warm finger slid across his cheek while the other palm desperately embraced his face. It was gentle, it was tender, it was almost too much. It would have been, if Apollo's hand hadn't slid to the other man's jacket and firmly gripped the collar, simultaneously pulling Klavier closer and pushing him to the wall, right next to the front door. The response to this was a quiet half-sigh-half-moan with which the tall man greeted, it seemed, any action of the attorney. Someone else's hands flowed from his face and began to wander over his shoulders, firmly embracing and continuing to pull closer and closer.

"That was... fast," – the dark-haired man managed to think, biting the lip of his... uh... rival? Friend? Apollo's brain distinctly signaled him to stop, preferably – right now, and clarify... everything? What does this mean? Does Klavier like him too? Is this a strange form of consolation? What did those...
Apollo flinched when strands of his hair slid under someone else's touch. Klavier slowly pulled at the elastic, dissolving the neat long ponytail without breaking away from the kiss.

"We should... ha... we shouldn't do this here," – the man was breathing heavily, not taking his gaze off the prosecutor's bitten lips. Damn, did he do that?
Klavier tilted his head, hiding his face in the crook of Apollo's neck. The warm breath made the attorney quietly gasp, which caused a satisfied chuckle from the other man. His lips now palpably touched the skin, intensifying the already palpable trembling.

"Klavier, I... seriously... we should talk..."

The man didn't raise his head but stopped, simply holding the other tightly in his embrace.

"About what? About how I love you too, and this has been going on for, perhaps, a couple of years? We can discuss the details later. I agree to date you, to marry you, to die on the same day, only, Herr Forehead, please be quiet and kiss me again."

"First of all, don't you dare call me that right after you kissed me, and secondly, how long??," – Apollo pulled away and tried to look into the other man's eyes.

To his surprise, Klavier really raised his face this time. Bitter merriment splashed in his eyes.

"Damn it, this is from... the case against Tobaye?"
Klavier hummed affirmatively, distractedly searching for something on Apollo's face.

"Maybe even a little earlier," – he added thoughtfully after a few moments.

"Holy Mother, you... you..." – Apollo sharply took his face in his palms and ringingly kissed somewhere in the area between the cheekbone and eye. Klavier blinked in bewilderment but made no attempts to break free – on the contrary, his body went limp in someone else's grip, and an uncertain smile trembled on his lips.

"You idiot," – Apollo kissed him again, this time just above the eyebrow. "Damn it," – another kiss was imprinted on the temple. "I could have done this all this time? All your stupid flirting, all the strange words, all this time, holy shit.."

Klavier brought his eyebrows together in bewilderment, but Apollo paid no attention to this, continuing to ringingly kiss his face.

"All this time?.." – the man's voice sounded uncertain.

"Yes, damn it, since the very... Tobaye case. Maybe... maybe a little earlier," – the last phrase seemed almost shy to the prosecutor, but he forgot about the need to pay attention to this. The man pulled the attorney to himself again, burying his hands in his hair and opening his mouth in a kiss.

"Hey, where did Polly go?"

A voice behind the door made the attorney flinch and hastily pull away. Footsteps were heard behind the door. Klavier, pressed against the wall just a few centimeters from the rapidly reddening Apollo, quietly whined and reached forward. The man hissed and quickly covered his beloved's mouth with his hand.

"I don't know, maybe he's with Gavin?"

"We were supposed to go for ramen together, it's not fair!"

The quiet voices slowly passed the room and moved somewhere further. Apollo quietly sighed.
Warm fingers touched his hand, making the attorney flinch, and the next moment he was drawn into a slow kiss again.

Apollo sighed, finally relaxing. It was his turn to pull away and rest his forehead on the prosecutor's shoulder while he slowly played with his strands.

"Are you... sure about this?"

Klavier quietly laughed, and Apollo thought he'd never heard anything better in his life.

"I wanted to touch them since you came back."

"You wanted this for a year??? You could have just asked, you know, right?"

Klavier blinked in bewilderment.

"Literally everyone did it except you. Even Prosecutor Blackquill..." – a smile slowly bloomed on Apollo's face.

"Even Simon touched your hair before me??"

Apollo was really trying not to laugh at the offended expression that bloomed on Klavier's face.

"So you'll have a lot to make up for, won't you?"

Looking at how the self-assured smile familiar from the courtroom bloomed on Apollo's face, Klavier couldn't find what to answer.

And when the other man's lips touched his temple, it suddenly turned out not to be such a serious defeat after all.