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foxysquidalsoTitle: Empty Nest
Fandom: Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney
Word count: 1145
Characters: Kristoph, Klavier
Rating: 13+
Warnings: Kristoph being creepy, slight hints of possible abuse, (non graphic) violence towards an animal.
Summary: Kristoph is used to taking care of his brother, so after Klavier leaves the house, he feels unusually restless.
Notes: Written for the "awesome bingo" devised by me and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plutokitty, for the prompt "heartbreak". So of course, I decided to write it about someone who can't feel heartbreak.
Empty Nest.
In the late afternoon, he walks from room to room. He finds each room quiet, except for the soft sound of his footsteps as he passes through, not quite like a ghost, but almost. At first, the house seems still as well as quiet, but in the sitting room, the blinds are half-open, and he pauses before the sight of dust motes circling through the air. They burn in the sunlight. He dislikes dust, but today, he stands motionless, watching those tiny particles circulate, transfixed.
They are not beautiful. They are bright and accidental.
His brother is like that. Born late into their parents' marriage, no one was expecting the arrival of another child. Kristoph was shaken by the realization that he had to share his home his parents' attention. Klavier was a disturbance, a distraction, chaotic. So many nights, Kristoph lay awake, listening to his brother wailing in the darkness, nothing but a mindless animal that wanted to be fed.
Unexpectedly, Kristoph coughs, raising a hand to his mouth, and he frowns. There is too much dust in here altogether. He'll have to do something about that, soon. He finds himself able to move again, so he does, into the relative darkness of the kitchen. The kitchen is more acceptable: precise and dustless.
Kristoph's gaze sweeps over the kitchen table, and to his irritation, he pictures Klavier seated there, his feet up on the table, some messy pastry in his careless hand. The vision is mercifully brief. Klavier is not there. No one is there, and the bowl of apples in the center of the table is pristine, each fruit without bruise.
His parents, sensing his frustration with the infant, told him that as the older brother, Klavier was his responsibility. Kristoph took his responsibilities seriously, and everything was different after that. He took over the care of his brother. His parents could not be trusted to do it alone. They let Klavier cry. When Kristoph heard the cries begin, he climbed out of bed. In his brother's room, he stood by the crib. He wasn't allowed to feed or change him, but he watched him, waiting there silently until his mother came.
"Kristoph, go back to bed," she told him with a weary smile. "It's all right."
He shook his head. "I'll take care of him," he said. "He's mine."
Kristoph selects an apple, picks it up. He almost bites into it, but at the last moment, changes his mind. His lips, unparted, brush the skin of the fruit. It is smooth and lightly, sweetly fragrant. He does not bite into it, but he does not put it down. He will eat it in a little while. He carries it with him as he leaves the kitchen, makes his way to the stairs, and ascends.
Creaking stairs displease him. His stairs barely make a noise, their sighs muffled, but the stairs in his home when he was a child were noisy, singing out at the lightest touch. Klavier ran up and down them, making them cry out, as if it were a game. He sang and shouted as he ran, but he would be quiet if Kristoph asked him to be. He was loud, but a good child. He listened to his brother.
They walked together, outside in the sunlight, when Mother and Father were busy. Klavier raised his head to listen when Kristoph spoke. Raising his face to the sun, a face like Kristoph's own. Kristoph taught his brother the names of plants and flowers, what each rose in the garden was called. The parts of the blossom: petal, filament, and stamen.
Like a good child, a good house is a quiet house. The stairs are silent, and the hall is silent as Kristoph walks down it, apple in hand. He can almost see a small, golden-haired child running in front of him, but there is no one else with him in the house. He opens the first door he comes to and steps through it.
The walls of the room are bare. All Klavier's things are gone. His brother left the curtains open. In here, too, there is dust, circling, shining. Why is it that Kristoph wants to watch it? It is common, made up of the tiniest scraps of lost things: paper, textiles, hair. Only by chance does any single particle float up to catch the light. It was never meant to be so bright. Klavier's leaving has stirred up all this dust. It will settle. Then Kristoph can have it removed.
Klavier never did understand. He would have said the dust was pretty, that it was dancing. He was always so sentimental. On one of their garden walks, they discovered a bird that had fallen from its nest, its feathers only beginning to grow, naked and pink on the green spring grass. It had barely begun to look like a bird. Klavier knelt down to look at it, his eyes softening with concern, then looked up to find the nest it had fallen from. He spied it, a twist of twigs on an overhanging branch, then brightened. "Let's put it back! Do you think we can reach it?"
The bird was barely moving. It might have been lying there for hours. It was amazing that it hadn't been discovered by a cat. "It's already dying." Kristoph reached down and gently snapped the little creature's neck. To his annoyance, Klavier began to cry.
Living things died, as they must. It was better when they didn't suffer, wasn't it? When Kristoph's parents died, Klavier cried again. Kristoph became his brother's guardian. He took all his responsibilities seriously. Klavier was his.
Now Klavier is gone. He will not return.
Kristoph wonders if he is meant to feel something. He searches the chambers of his heart, much as he walked through the rooms of his house, but the heart has its secrets, which it keeps well. There is something there, like an unsettling of dust, but he cannot put a name to it. He seats himself on Klavier's abandoned bed. He raises the apple to his lips and takes a bite. His teeth break the skin, and the flesh he tastes is both bitter and sweet.
Once he has finished his apple, Kristoph finds his spirits rising. Klavier remains a disturbance even when he is absent, but it is natural for a man to miss his brother, if that is what he is feeling. Kristoph holds the apple core carefully, his pointer finger at one end, his thumb on the other. Somehow, he'd grown used to Klavier's chaos, all that noise and song, to the creature he was meant to care for. That quiet he'd once seen as ideal seems too quiet now.
He smiles at his own sentimentality, surprised to find himself capable of it, but pleased to have identified the source of his unease. Any problem, once understood, is simply a matter of finding a solution.
Perhaps he'll get a dog.
Fandom: Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney
Word count: 1145
Characters: Kristoph, Klavier
Rating: 13+
Warnings: Kristoph being creepy, slight hints of possible abuse, (non graphic) violence towards an animal.
Summary: Kristoph is used to taking care of his brother, so after Klavier leaves the house, he feels unusually restless.
Notes: Written for the "awesome bingo" devised by me and
plutokitty, for the prompt "heartbreak". So of course, I decided to write it about someone who can't feel heartbreak.Empty Nest.
In the late afternoon, he walks from room to room. He finds each room quiet, except for the soft sound of his footsteps as he passes through, not quite like a ghost, but almost. At first, the house seems still as well as quiet, but in the sitting room, the blinds are half-open, and he pauses before the sight of dust motes circling through the air. They burn in the sunlight. He dislikes dust, but today, he stands motionless, watching those tiny particles circulate, transfixed.
They are not beautiful. They are bright and accidental.
His brother is like that. Born late into their parents' marriage, no one was expecting the arrival of another child. Kristoph was shaken by the realization that he had to share his home his parents' attention. Klavier was a disturbance, a distraction, chaotic. So many nights, Kristoph lay awake, listening to his brother wailing in the darkness, nothing but a mindless animal that wanted to be fed.
Unexpectedly, Kristoph coughs, raising a hand to his mouth, and he frowns. There is too much dust in here altogether. He'll have to do something about that, soon. He finds himself able to move again, so he does, into the relative darkness of the kitchen. The kitchen is more acceptable: precise and dustless.
Kristoph's gaze sweeps over the kitchen table, and to his irritation, he pictures Klavier seated there, his feet up on the table, some messy pastry in his careless hand. The vision is mercifully brief. Klavier is not there. No one is there, and the bowl of apples in the center of the table is pristine, each fruit without bruise.
His parents, sensing his frustration with the infant, told him that as the older brother, Klavier was his responsibility. Kristoph took his responsibilities seriously, and everything was different after that. He took over the care of his brother. His parents could not be trusted to do it alone. They let Klavier cry. When Kristoph heard the cries begin, he climbed out of bed. In his brother's room, he stood by the crib. He wasn't allowed to feed or change him, but he watched him, waiting there silently until his mother came.
"Kristoph, go back to bed," she told him with a weary smile. "It's all right."
He shook his head. "I'll take care of him," he said. "He's mine."
Kristoph selects an apple, picks it up. He almost bites into it, but at the last moment, changes his mind. His lips, unparted, brush the skin of the fruit. It is smooth and lightly, sweetly fragrant. He does not bite into it, but he does not put it down. He will eat it in a little while. He carries it with him as he leaves the kitchen, makes his way to the stairs, and ascends.
Creaking stairs displease him. His stairs barely make a noise, their sighs muffled, but the stairs in his home when he was a child were noisy, singing out at the lightest touch. Klavier ran up and down them, making them cry out, as if it were a game. He sang and shouted as he ran, but he would be quiet if Kristoph asked him to be. He was loud, but a good child. He listened to his brother.
They walked together, outside in the sunlight, when Mother and Father were busy. Klavier raised his head to listen when Kristoph spoke. Raising his face to the sun, a face like Kristoph's own. Kristoph taught his brother the names of plants and flowers, what each rose in the garden was called. The parts of the blossom: petal, filament, and stamen.
Like a good child, a good house is a quiet house. The stairs are silent, and the hall is silent as Kristoph walks down it, apple in hand. He can almost see a small, golden-haired child running in front of him, but there is no one else with him in the house. He opens the first door he comes to and steps through it.
The walls of the room are bare. All Klavier's things are gone. His brother left the curtains open. In here, too, there is dust, circling, shining. Why is it that Kristoph wants to watch it? It is common, made up of the tiniest scraps of lost things: paper, textiles, hair. Only by chance does any single particle float up to catch the light. It was never meant to be so bright. Klavier's leaving has stirred up all this dust. It will settle. Then Kristoph can have it removed.
Klavier never did understand. He would have said the dust was pretty, that it was dancing. He was always so sentimental. On one of their garden walks, they discovered a bird that had fallen from its nest, its feathers only beginning to grow, naked and pink on the green spring grass. It had barely begun to look like a bird. Klavier knelt down to look at it, his eyes softening with concern, then looked up to find the nest it had fallen from. He spied it, a twist of twigs on an overhanging branch, then brightened. "Let's put it back! Do you think we can reach it?"
The bird was barely moving. It might have been lying there for hours. It was amazing that it hadn't been discovered by a cat. "It's already dying." Kristoph reached down and gently snapped the little creature's neck. To his annoyance, Klavier began to cry.
Living things died, as they must. It was better when they didn't suffer, wasn't it? When Kristoph's parents died, Klavier cried again. Kristoph became his brother's guardian. He took all his responsibilities seriously. Klavier was his.
Now Klavier is gone. He will not return.
Kristoph wonders if he is meant to feel something. He searches the chambers of his heart, much as he walked through the rooms of his house, but the heart has its secrets, which it keeps well. There is something there, like an unsettling of dust, but he cannot put a name to it. He seats himself on Klavier's abandoned bed. He raises the apple to his lips and takes a bite. His teeth break the skin, and the flesh he tastes is both bitter and sweet.
Once he has finished his apple, Kristoph finds his spirits rising. Klavier remains a disturbance even when he is absent, but it is natural for a man to miss his brother, if that is what he is feeling. Kristoph holds the apple core carefully, his pointer finger at one end, his thumb on the other. Somehow, he'd grown used to Klavier's chaos, all that noise and song, to the creature he was meant to care for. That quiet he'd once seen as ideal seems too quiet now.
He smiles at his own sentimentality, surprised to find himself capable of it, but pleased to have identified the source of his unease. Any problem, once understood, is simply a matter of finding a solution.
Perhaps he'll get a dog.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-14 01:34 am (UTC)Bright, accidental Klavier and bright, purposeful Kristoph <3<3<3 Arrrrghhh AND BRIGHT WONDERFUL YOU.
PS CLAAAAAAAAAAAAMSSSSSSSS
no subject
Date: 2010-09-14 02:06 am (UTC)AND CLAMS, OF COURSE. I had to include a mention of her, at least, and I wanted to infuse the creepiness with a bit of comedy in the end.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-14 03:51 am (UTC)Lovely, creepy, and perfectly Kristoph. ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 09:42 am (UTC)The bit about the bird was heart-breaking, easy to picture. Especially Kristoph not understanding the tears.
Also, we have the same personal canon about the parents dying and leaving Kristoph as Klavier's guardian, that makes me happy. :D
no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 09:02 pm (UTC)And yes, I do like the idea of Kristoph as Klavier's guardian, too! It seems entirely possible from their dynamic in the game, not to mention their age difference and the lack of parents. Poor Klavier, though.
Oh, also, by the way, I found these communities that just re-started, and I thought you might be interested in them, if you have the time:
:3
no subject
Date: 2010-09-16 04:56 pm (UTC)It's sad that like in most series many parents just don't exist in Ace Attorney, though in the case of these two that makes them more fun to work with. :3
Brilliant, fic comms! :D I joined the flashfic one, though I might have to wait until I have a bit more time to check out the contest. ^^
no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 01:32 am (UTC)Fantastic! I will link it from the bingo card.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-20 02:22 am (UTC)Yes, it's true, most people's parents are CONVENIENTLY NEVER MENTIONED--or missing, or dead. :D It's true though, when there are no parents, it can be fun to make things up.
Yes, it really seems like both communities could be fun!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-20 02:24 am (UTC)And that's exactly what I was going for with the heartbreak! He kind of feels it (well, as much as he can), but he'll never understand what it is.
Yaaaay, more bingo! ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 12:26 pm (UTC)Your POV of the nicest man is enthralling, yet it always has the right pace (I hope you understand what I mean, I don't know how else to phrase it)- and I do love every bit of your writing about the Gavin brothers, as much as the idea of Kristoph being Klavier's guardian!
but he watched him, waiting there silently until his mother came.
It's impossible to say which part I liked best, but the scene this part of the sentence evoked in my mind was so intense.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 08:16 pm (UTC)I love that icon, by the way! <3
no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 08:29 pm (UTC)It's cute, ja?
I always love children versions of characters. <3
Thanks again for linking me the artist!
Now I only need something with Daryan, yet that seems harder to find.