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foxysquidalsoTitle: Reckless Endangerment
Rating: PG
Pairing(s), Character(s): Apollo/Klavier, Phoenix Wright
Warnings: None
Word count: 6,000
Summary: Klavier writes songs about seizing the day and throwing caution to the wind. Songs that Apollo hates. However, it's possible that certain amateur music critics know at least as much about recklessness as musicians.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pw_contest, for the prompt "He who hesitates is a damned fool". I wasn't sure what to do with this prompt until I imagined it as a line in a Gavinners song. Klavier quoting Mae West seemed right somehow.
It was driving him crazy. He pressed his hands against the sides of his head, as if to prevent it from breaking open, because that was what he half-feared was going to happen. Fortunately, this act also covered his ears, providing a small amount of aural relief. His fingers felt cool against the warm skin of his temples, and the sensation calmed him. He was able to keep his voice level when he spoke. "Could you please ask her to turn that down, Mr. Wright?"
"Huh?" Mr. Wright looked up from his magazine, tilting his head to one side in a quizzical manner, although there was no way he didn't know what Apollo was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"The music," said Apollo.
"What music?"
"The terrible awful horrible music your daughter is playing!"
"Oh, that music." Phoenix nodded. "Don't worry, she'll turn it down in a bit. She doesn't keep it turned up this loud for long, usually." He paused to reflect. "A couple of hours, max."
"Mr. Wright, it's office hours," said Apollo, desperately. "I'm trying to file."
Phoenix sighed, a sound that was difficult to hear over the agonizing cacophony. "Okay, don't give me those big puppy dog eyes. I'm not going to stand between a man and his filing. Just wait a little longer. She's young, and this is her favorite song."
Apollo sighed too, giving up. He lowered his hands as he resigned himself to suffering through the rest of the song. "I hate this song," he said.
"What was that?" Mr. Wright asked.
Apollo couldn't tell if Mr. Wright really hadn't heard him or was pretending not to hear him, because either could have been true. He said again, louder, "I hate this song!"
"That's funny. Doesn't your friend sing this song?"
"What? No. Klavier Gavin isn't my friend."
"Wow, you're being a little harsh there, aren't you, Apollo?"
"No! I'm not. I meant we don't know each other that well. I'm not instantly friends with everyone I meet."
"Apollo, this music is bringing out a new side of you. I don't know if I like it."
"I didn't mean anything insulting by it," Apollo protested, though what Mr. Wright had said was partly true. The Gavinners' music was so jarring and unsettling that when it was playing, he had difficulty formulating his sentences as thoughtfully as he would have otherwise. "I like him. I don't have any problem with him whatsoever. Just his music."
"I didn't realize we had a budding music critic here at the agency. Should I add that to your skill list?"
Apollo doubted that Mr. Wright had gone to the trouble of writing up a skill list for him, so he didn't think there was any harm in saying, "Yes, that would be fine. I do know a few things about music. I like music. Good music, anyway. This stuff is--it's so discordant, but at the same time, it's so bland, like it's trying to sound tough and cool. You can tell it's meant to appeal mainly to teenagers who want to feel like they're being rebellious without actually having to rebel or upset their parents."
Once Apollo got started on a rant, it could be difficult for him to stop, especially with that--that song playing. He couldn't remember what this particular one was called. It wasn't one of the singles that he knew the titles of. "Listen to those boring lyrics. They're a string of clichés. There's the one about 'breaking every rule', and then 'he who hesitates is a fool'. And then something trite about being young and in love--" Apollo broke off. Mr. Wright was giving him a weird look. Weird even for him. Mr. Wright's grin was brittle, his eyes half-glazed.
Apollo froze, his shoulders stiffening. "Klavier's not--standing right behind me, is he?" he asked, uncomfortably reminded of embarrassing moments in TV shows.
"Oh no, not at all," said Mr. Wright.
Apollo exhaled in relief. "Good. That would have been--"
"Actually, he's standing a bit to one side."
Hoping that Mr. Wright was joking, Apollo slowly turned around. Mr. Wright was not joking. Klavier Gavin was standing there, aluminum briefcase in hand, regarding him coolly. He smiled when Apollo's gaze met his. "Hello, Herr Justice. Herr Wright. Nice to see you both."
"Hi," Apollo managed to say. He wanted to know how long Klavier had been there, but he couldn't ask that.
"Thanks for dropping by," said Mr. Wright. "It's always nice when the rock gods descend from on high."
Forcing a smile until his face hurt, Apollo wondered if there was some way he could exact a horrible revenge on Mr. Wright without harming him.
"Think nothing of it," said Klavier. "On high gets boring sometimes. I've got those papers you asked me about. I thought I'd bring them by personally, since it's been a while since I've seen you and my favorite Fräulein."
Mr. Wright perked up. This news managed to finally separate part of him from the couch as he sat up straight. "Papers? Give them here."
Apollo was sure the papers had something to do with one of Mr. Wright's secret law projects that he never got to know about, so he didn't bother asking. He watched as Klavier unhurriedly crossed the room. It was impossible to overlook the stylized G emblazoned on his briefcase. Klavier set the case down on the couch beside Mr. Wright, opened it, withdrew a portfolio, and presented it to Mr. Wright, all in one smooth movement, concluding with a flourish. "Ja, here they are."
"Danke," said Mr. Wright.
"Bitte," Klavier replied, with a trace of irony.
Apollo felt guilty that Klavier had overheard him, but he'd meant what he said, so he told himself he didn't have any reason to feel bad. He'd been honest. At least he hadn't gotten onto the subject of Klavier's singing. Which was fine, but not exactly to his taste. He'd liked the Gavinners' music better when Lamiroir had been singing with them.
"I'm going to go say hello to Trucy, if that's all right?" Klavier asked Mr. Wright.
"Fine by me! I know she'll be happy about it. Just knock first."
Klavier offered him a mock bow. "I always knock first."
Apollo kept smiling as Klavier passed close by him on the way to Trucy's room. Apollo could smell Klavier's doubtlessly expensive cologne. Their gazes met again. Klavier smiled and inclined his head, acknowledging him, but there was an edge of tension in that smile.
Klavier disappeared down the hall. Apollo heard him knock on Trucy's door and call her name. The music stopped instantly, followed shortly by a joyful squeal. Apollo supposed it must be nice to be listening to your favorite song, and then have the singer show up at your door. Not that he wanted Klavier showing up in his bedroom. Or anywhere, for that matter. He felt his face heat.
"I don't think reckless endangerment is that bad," said Mr. Wright.
Apollo turned to him, momentarily forgetting that he was angry at him. "What are you talking about?" Now he was talking about the comparative seriousness of crimes? Mr. Wright had a way of coming up with the most confusing non sequiturs.
"'Reckless Endangerment'. That's the name of the song. What kind of father would I be if I didn't know the name of my daughter's favorite song?"
"Oh. That does sound like the name of a Gavinners song."
"It's about being young. And driving too fast. And doing foolish things." Looking over the papers Klavier had brought, Mr. Wright shook his head with an expression that was probably meant to make him look wistful. "Ah, I remember those days..."
"Because now you don't do anything foolish," Apollo couldn't resist saying.
Mr. Wright looked up from his papers and regarded Apollo gravely. "Absolutely not. For one thing, I don't go around insulting musicians' music to their faces."
"That wasn't my fault. You didn't tell me he was there!"
"The court doesn't recognize these distinctions, Apollo."
"Ugh. If you're ever made a judge, I'm going to quit being a lawyer."
"Nobody likes a quitter, Apollo."
Apollo rolled his eyes.
"Speaking of which--" Mr. Wright adopted his rarely heard "boss voice", which was lower than his regular voice and quite frankly sounded ridiculous. "Weren't you supposed to be filing, Mr. Justice?"
"Yes, Mr. Wright." At least the music was no longer making his head ache, so he could concentrate on what he was doing.
Mr. Wright's old files were in the most nonsensical order. Apollo wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Mr. Wright had let Trucy file them when he'd first adopted her and then hadn't touched them since. Apollo was still filing when Klavier appeared again, this time with Trucy in tow, beaming up at him and talking about one of her new magic tricks.
Klavier waited for her to finish before announcing, "I should be going now. I'm sorry I can't stay longer. I have a trial in the morning."
"Wow, a trial," said Mr. Wright.
"Ja. Maybe you'll have another of those one day," Klavier said, turning to Apollo. "Herr Justice." Again, he made a point of walking close to Apollo as he headed for the door, giving him a sideways glance. Apollo flushed. He was sure Klavier was giving him a hard time because of what he'd overheard. That was fine. Apollo didn't mind teasing. Klavier smelled good, though. Was it cologne, or did he just smell that way?
"You okay?" asked Mr. Wright. Apollo gave a start, realizing that he'd zoned out. He'd hardly paid attention to Klavier and Trucy saying their goodbyes. Now Klavier was gone, and Trucy and Mr. Wright were both regarding him curiously, a scrutiny he could have done without. "You're looking dazed over there, junior partner," Mr. Wright observed.
Mr. Wright probably shouldn't have been calling him junior partner, considering the fact that he hadn't gotten his badge back yet, but Apollo didn't point that out. "I'm fine."
"I think you've had enough excitement for one day. No more rock gods for you!"
"Yeah, fortunately I don't know any more of them." Apollo returned to the filing cabinet, but he discovered that his heart was no longer in it. Not that his heart was ever fully invested in filing, but it was even less so now. Fortunately, since Trucy was hyper following her rock star visitation, she started talking to him animatedly and conjuring flowers out of the files. He didn't get any more work done that day. Mr. Wright seemed not to notice. Perhaps he had forgotten that Apollo was supposed to be working. That happened a lot.
***
Apollo didn't see Klavier often. As he'd told Mr. Wright, they weren't exactly friends, though they were more than acquaintances. After that awkward incident at the office, more than a week passed before Apollo caught sight of him again. This time, it was at the courthouse. Apollo was there running one of Mr. Wright's secretive errands, and as he left, he glimpsed the back of that familiar purple jacket, a patch of brightness in a crowd of dark suits, moving away from him down the street.
He experienced a twinge of guilt. Though he'd done nothing but voice his opinion the other day, he hadn't meant to insult Klavier. He felt he should talk to him about it, but he'd been putting it off. It wasn't as if he'd been avoiding him, but he hadn't exactly sought him out, either. "Hey, Klavier!" he called out, waving from the courthouse steps, only belatedly realizing he must have looked silly, shouting and waving like that.
Klavier heard him. He stopped, turned, and smiled. Then he waved, too, and shouted back as if he didn't care about looking silly. "Ja, Herr Justice, I'll wait for you!"
Apollo couldn't quite remember when he'd started calling Klavier by his first name, but it didn't feel right to call him Mr. Gavin, for obvious reasons. He also couldn't remember when Klavier had (mostly) stopped calling him Herr Forehead. He did still sneak a Forehead into conversation sometimes, but Apollo didn't mind that so much.
"Hi," said Apollo, out of breath when he caught up. There'd been no need to run down the courthouse steps and down the sidewalk, but he'd done it anyway. "How are you?"
"Much better now that you're here," said Klavier with a wink.
Apollo laughed, as that was all he could think to do when Klavier flirted with him like that.
"I'm going on a walk," Klavier added. "Do you want to come with me?"
He'd told Mr. Wright he was coming back after his trip to the courthouse, but Mr. Wright was unlikely to notice how long it took him to return. "Sure. I'm not doing anything else right now."
"Good. I could use the company."
Klavier started walking again, and Apollo kept pace with him. "Um, look," he said, "about the other day. I'm sorry I was insulting your songs."
"Oh, yes, that," Klavier smirked. "Are you still worried about that?"
"No, I'm not worried, exactly, but I--"
"Good. I'm not worried about it either. Criticism is good for the soul. And the look on your face when you saw me standing there made up for any blow to my ego." He chuckled.
Klavier looked away as they came to a crossing, just as the light changed and the walk sign lit. If there was one thing Klavier had, it was good timing. He gazed ahead, starting across the street. Apollo wondered if he had a particular destination in mind, but Klavier didn't enlighten him. They traveled in companionable silence together until they'd crossed the street and walked several more yards, when Klavier said, "And you're right."
"Huh?" asked Apollo, unsure of what Klavier was agreeing with.
"You're right," said Klavier. "About my music. It's a little immature, isn't it? That was fine when I was seventeen, but it's time to grow up now. That's why I quit. That, and I lost something important to me."
Apollo blinked. Klavier sounded so serious. Maybe even a little--sad? Before Apollo could identify the emotion, Klavier had looked away again, his attention caught by something up the street, his eyes widening. "Look, there's a food cart. I'm starving. Do you want something?"
"I'm kind of hungry, too." Apollo was reminded of the fact that he hadn't eaten lunch yet.
The prosecutor was drawn to the bright yellow and red umbrella above the food cart like a bee to a flower. "What do you want?" he asked. "It's my treat!"
Klavier had a way of making things happen. Before Apollo quite knew what was happening to him, the two of them were sitting at a picnic table in the park, eating kebabs and fries. Klavier was laughing, trying to turn his napkin into a paper rose, saying "Nein, I swear I can do it, a friend at law school showed me how. It's going to look like a rose, with a stem and leaves."
"Are you sure you didn't forget a step? It looks more like--like a stick, right now."
"Fine. I can admit defeat. Here you go. I present you with a stick, Herr Justice." Klavier brandished it at him.
As he took the stick, Apollo was half-amused by Klavier's failure, and half-flattered that Klavier had tried to make a rose for him. "It's the nicest stick of paper ever. And you can call me Apollo, you know." That was when he realized that he had been wrong and Mr. Wright had been right. He and Klavier were friends. When had that happened?
As Apollo was asking himself that question, Klavier's smile faded, and Apollo felt a tug at his wrist, his bracelet responding to some tension in the other man. He stopped smiling too and looked at Klavier, expectant.
"I'm glad you caught me today," Klavier said. "I was wishing for someone to talk to--and here you are."
"You can talk to me all you want."
"You're so generous." Klavier ate one of his remaining fries, taking his time about it, as if every bite of potato was a serious matter. "There's something I've been thinking about doing. I wonder if you could give me your opinion on it."
"You can always count on me for an honest opinion."
"I can, can't I? That's something that's so cool about you. I like it." He flashed a grin, and Apollo felt even more flattered, listening intently as Klavier went on. "You know I've given up music to concentrate on my law career. I thought I might take that a step further. Take some time off to study the law in depth. Travel more. Learn about the justice systems in other countries, get better at prosecuting before I really return to it. When I took so much time off from practicing law to tour with the band, I lost my focus. I need to find it again, so that when I come back, I'll really rock."
"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Apollo. Why was that the first question he asked?
Klavier shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'm going, yet. But--maybe a year, maybe two. I was talking to Mr. Edgeworth about it. He said he did something similar when he was around my age."
Two years. That was a long time. Apollo didn't know what to say. Klavier was counting on him for his honest opinion, but his first thought was, Don't go, Klavier. He couldn't say that. He didn't have any reason to, or any right. "You should do what would make you happy. If you think that'll help you, then do it."
"You make a good point. That's what I believe, too. People should do what makes them happy." He gazed across the table at Apollo. A few moments passed, and Apollo, discomfited, glanced down at the table. Klavier broke the silence with a laugh. "I'm sure it'll make you happy that I won't be making more awful songs for Fräulein Wright to torture you with, ja?"
"They're not all that bad," said Apollo. "Some of them are kind of okay."
"Objection!" Klavier teasingly pointed at him. "What's this unlikely change of tune? Are you sure you're not fibbing now? Trying not to hurt my feelings?"
"They're not bad for pop songs."
"Rock songs, you mean, but I won't argue about that. Okay, tell me which one you like, then. Do you have a favorite?"
Though he was already regretting bringing this up, Apollo was glad that the subject had changed. He raised his head. "The one about your boyfriend is sort of catchy."
"The one about my--boyfriend?"
Apollo realized what he'd said. "The one about the prosecution's witness. You know!"
"Yes, I know the one you mean. For some reason, people ask me more about that song than about any other. I wonder why that is?"
"I--like the chorus," Apollo protested, wishing that he hadn't tried to think of something nice to say. "And I don't like it very much."
"You're not going to ask me if it's about someone in particular?"
"No," said Apollo. "I'm not. I'm sorry I mentioned it." Although he had been a bit curious about who the song might be about. "If I asked, would you tell me?"
Klavier was biting his lip, his eyes shining as he tried to contain what was obviously the beginning of a dangerous laughing fit. It took him a minute to collect himself. When he spoke again, his tone was formal and carefully controlled. "Nein, Herr Justice, I am afraid I promised I would never tell. I'm a man of my word, you see."
"Or maybe you wrote it because you wanted people to ask you about it."
"That's a theory," said Klavier. Thanks to his bracelet, Apollo could tell it wasn't a correct theory, but he didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he swore to himself that he'd never try to say anything charitable about Klavier's music again. He owed it to Klavier to be honest. Klavier had said it was cool that he was honest.
They finished their kebabs and fries together, and no more was said about travel or music, but somehow, it was easy to talk to Klavier, and they seemed to have no shortage of things to say to one another. They talked until Klavier had to return to his office. Alone again, Apollo returned to the courthouse, where he'd left his bike, then rode the bike back to the Wright Anything Agency.
The agency was abandoned. Mr. Wright was nowhere to be found. "Hello? Anybody here?" Apollo called out as he stood in the middle of the empty office. No one answered him. It wasn't particularly surprising. Mr. Wright often wandered off without notice. Trucy, too, came and went a lot. She worked so hard on her act, and at school. Sometimes she simply vanished for a while, like the magician she was. Apollo was often left there on his own, which was odd, since it wasn't his house. He only worked there. "I guess it's just me and Charley again," said Apollo, as he passed by the potted plant and gave it a friendly pat.
Mr. Wright hadn't left him any work, so Apollo had nothing to do. He could have followed Mr. Wright's sterling example and sat down on the couch to watch television, but he felt too restless for that. Instead, he walked through the door that opened onto the short hall leading to Mr. Wright and Trucy's bedrooms. Maybe he wasn't supposed to go back there, but Mr. Wright had never told him not to do so.
The doors to Mr. Wright and Trucy's rooms were both open. Mr. Wright's bedroom was a mess--there wasn't any other word for the space between four walls that had been made to contain a particularly cruel whirlwind. Trucy's bedroom wasn't what anyone would call "neat" either, but it had been spared the worst of the whirlwind, and was better described as cluttered and colorful.
Apollo hesitated in front of Trucy's doorway. It was impossible to miss the Gavinners posters on her walls. It was odd to see Klavier smiling at him from a poster right after having eaten lunch with him. On an impulse, he stepped through the door. He wondered if Klavier felt weird about seeing his picture plastered up on walls. Apollo would have been mortified by that, but Klavier was probably used to it by now. He seemed like the sort of person who enjoyed having his picture up.
Trucy's computer was on, though it was asleep, and Apollo found himself regarding it thoughtfully. What was wrong with him? He wanted to hear that song again. That stupid, horrible song. He couldn't comprehend his own motivation, so he didn't try. He woke up the computer, and as he's suspected, there was "Reckless Endangerment", ready to play. Apollo reached out, hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the mouse decisively and clicked. At once, the room filled with the sound of obnoxious guitar playing.
So--loud! He'd forgotten to adjust the volume, and it was up at the earsplitting level Trucy favored. He fumbled with the mouse again, and managed to get the sound down to a reasonable volume in time to spare himself irreversible damage to his hearing. Then he could listen to Klavier's music without fear of physical harm, at least.
It was difficult not to listen to the quality of his voice critically. Klavier wasn't bad, but Apollo could have taught him a little something about vocals. His own vocal training regimen was the best. If Klavier wasn't giving up music, he might have offered him some advice, but there was no need to do that now. Apollo focused on the lyrics instead. Unfortunately, he was all too familiar with the song, though he'd never gone so far as to contemplate its words before.
Having fun, being in love, going after what you want: standard pop song--no, rock song--messages. He frowned, listening to Klavier sing, It's a case of reckless endangerment. Endangerment didn't even rhyme with anything, but Klavier didn't seem to care. He sang on. Then came the chorus, and, He who hesitates is a damned fool, which was a quote from somebody else, but you were allowed to do that in lyrics, apparently.
Apollo hadn't expected the way he'd reacted to Klavier's plan to travel the world. If he hadn't hesitated, he would have told Klavier to stay. That didn't make sense. Klavier should do what he wanted. What did it matter if he left?
Apollo was so caught up in contemplating the matter that he jumped and nearly knocked over Trucy's desk when Mr. Wright suddenly bellowed from the doorway behind him, "Apollo, I'm shocked."
Apollo, once he'd regained his footing, turned, raising his hands. "I wasn't doing anything, I--"
Mr. Wright put his own hands on his hips. Beneath his beanie, his eyebrows became highly visible as they drew together above the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his severe glower. "Sneaking into my daughter's room when no one's around, going through her things. This doesn't look good, Apollo."
Apollo's face felt so hot, it was starting to hurt. "No! I--I mean, it's nothing like that."
"As a concerned father, I think I'm going to have to have a long talk with you. This isn't appropriate behavior for an employee of the agency."
"But Mr. Wright, I'm gay, I swear! I wanted to listen to the song. That's all!"
Mr. Wright's hands remained firmly on his hips, and his glower didn't falter, but when he opened his mouth to speak again, his expression softened. "Ha ha, I can't keep that up." He brought up one of his hands to wipe an imaginary tear of mirth from his eye. "Ah, that was a good one, though."
Apollo should have known. Now it was his turn to put his hands on his hips. "Mr. Wright," he said, warningly.
Undeterred by hand placement, Mr. Wright took the few necessary steps toward him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Apollo, I know you'll protect Trucy's virtue with the last of your strength."
Apollo didn't know what to say to that, so he settled for making an irritated noise.
"But I am concerned about something," said Mr. Wright. "What happened since I saw you this morning? Some great, calamitous event, no doubt. I can't even imagine. What trauma could possibly change you so much that you would willingly listen to Gavinners songs?"
"It wasn't traumatic. I had lunch with Klavier."
"So--it's something else that's changed your ways. I wonder..."
"Nothing changed me," Apollo said, to forestall any further wondering. "I've never liked the Gavinners, and I never will. I was thinking about Klavier's music, since we were talking about it, so I wanted to listen to that song again. Out of curiosity."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Yes. Perfect sense."
"But there's something else bothering you, right?"
Apollo looked at him sharply. Mr. Wright, in spite of his annoying ways, could be alarmingly perceptive. Apollo wondered about that sometimes. "Maybe it's certain people who sneak up behind me and harass me for no reason."
"Apollo, that is no way to talk to your boss."
"I didn't say I meant you."
"Fair enough. You only vaguely described my action of a few moments ago." Mr. Wright smiled and gave Apollo's shoulder another pat in a faux-avuncular manner, which Apollo could have taken as patronizing but decided to take as another of his jokes. "What's really bothering you?"
Apollo realized the Gavinners were still playing, and he quickly turned them off. "It's no big deal. Klavier was telling me he's planning to go abroad for a while, to study foreign legal systems. I was thinking about what he said, that's all."
"Study foreign legal systems?"
"He thought it would help him to regain his focus on the law or something."
"Foreign legal systems?" Mr. Wright said again.
Apollo blinked at the repetition. Mr. Wright seemed, for once, to be genuinely irritated.
"Here's the thing about studying foreign legal systems," said Mr. Wright, holding up a hand, his pointer finger pointing. "You can do it from here. You can be as great a lawyer as it's possible to be and not go anywhere. Not that there's anything wrong with travel, but if someone says they want to travel to become a better jurist, there's probably another reason they want to go."
Apollo nodded, though he took a step back, as emphatic Mr. Wright was slightly alarming. "That makes sense. He's had a hard time lately. Though he doesn't act like it."
"Some people are like that. It's hard for them to show their feelings. Not like you and me, right?" Whatever stern spirit had animated Mr. Wright for a moment fled, because he made a fake finger gun out of his pointer finger and mimed firing this gun at Apollo, which might have been meant as a weird display of solidarity.
"Yeah, not like you and me," said Apollo, who didn't want to get into a discussion about it.
"What's that?" Mr. Wright asked, changing the subject in his usual whimsical way.
Apollo had to jump back quickly, away from the hand that was headed toward his vest pocket. He glanced down. Sticking out of the pocket was the napkin stick Klavier had made for him. Its white paper stood out against the red fabric of his vest. He'd almost forgotten he'd put that there. "It's a paper flower. Klavier made it."
"I'm glad Gavin went into music and not visual art."
"Very funny," said Apollo. Feeling the need to defend his flower-stick, he said, "It's not that bad. He's out of practice. It sort of looks like a--" Apollo couldn't lie. "--a stick," he concluded.
Mr. Wright considered the stick, though he didn't try reaching for it again. "If you don't want Klavier to leave, maybe you should tell him."
"I didn't say that. He can go if he wants. It's fine with me."
"That makes sense. Things will probably be easier for you without your rival around."
"He's not my rival. He's always giving me clues. Like I can't figure things out for myself."
"Well then, things will be easier for you without--" Mr. Wright faltered. "Uh, without someone helping you?"
"Right," agreed Apollo.
"Right, you don't need any help. But think about what I said, okay?"
"I'll think about it."
Apollo was being slightly sarcastic when he said those words, but he did think about it. All through the rest of that day and into the next. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. That alone would have been bad enough, but he had another problem. Listening to "Reckless Endangerment" instead of struggling to ignore it, as he usually did, had had the awful side effect of getting the song stuck in his head. As he biked to work, he caught himself humming it out loud. Later, after he'd returned to his endless filing job at the agency, Mr. Wright asked, "What're you whistling over there?"
Horrified, Apollo realized what he was doing. "Nothing!"
"Okay," said Mr. Wright, "but I've got my eye on you, Justice."
Apollo kept asking himself: what if Klavier did go? He'd be away for so long. What if he decided not to come back? He could probably become a prosecutor in Germany without any trouble. Apollo might never see him again. They were friends, but not close friends. It wasn't as if Klavier would necessarily feel obligated to keep in touch.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? He had to make himself forget.
"Hey, you've still got your amazing Klavier Gavin creation," Mr. Wright pointed out as Apollo was leaving for the day.
"What? Oh." Apollo looked down. The stick-flower was still there, the white paper of the former napkin peeking out of his vest pocket. "You're right." He hadn't been able to bring himself to take it out and throw it away. He wanted to keep it. Klavier had given it to him.
Maybe that was why, with the bloomless napkin flower still in his pocket, Apollo found himself biking to Klavier's house. It was a reckless thing to do, because Klavier might not have been there, or he might have had company. Fortunately, Klavier's motorcycle was there, parked right out front. When Apollo knocked on the door and Klavier answered, Klavier seemed to be alone. He also seemed to be surprised, his eyes widening, then narrowing as he smiled. "Apollo," he said, and he was probably about to say something else, but he didn't have the chance, because Apollo reached up, grabbed him by the lapels, then pulled him close and kissed him.
Klavier didn't react at first, and Apollo experienced an instant of panic--this was going to be so mortifying if Klavier didn't kiss him back--but to his relief, after a frozen moment, Klavier's arms slid around his waist. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Apollo's. He tasted as nice as he smelled.
"Don't go, Klavier," Apollo said, when he somehow managed to break the kiss for long enough to speak.
"Go?" asked Klavier. He drew his head back slightly. Confusion flickered across his face as he considered Apollo's words. When understanding came to him, his laughter was low and rich. "To study abroad, you mean! Ja, I already decided not to. It was only a possibility I was toying with. I had no idea you would react so passionately to it."
Apollo, already flushed, was unable to flush any further. He felt lightheaded. "Then I did this for nothing?"
"Not for nothing, I don't think." Klavier stroked the side of his face with a fingertip. He was gazing into Apollo's eyes.
Apollo's eyes had never been gazed into so intently, but he didn't look away. "I was trying to be more reckless. Like--" Oh no. He'd almost said it. This was worse than the humming.
"Like what?" Klavier prompted, when he didn't continue.
Having an obligation to the truth could be a problem. "Like in the song. The one about not hesitating. And doing what you feel." He spoke the title unwillingly. "'Reckless Endangerment'."
"My song?" When Apollo nodded, Klavier shook his head slowly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have given up on my music career. When my songs have such an effect even on people who don't like them."
"I wouldn't go that far," said Apollo quickly, not wanting to be responsible for unleashing any more of Klavier's music on the world.
"Someday. I might go back to it. When I finally figure out how to write a song Apollo Justice likes. But you're being very foolish. You're already reckless enough, Apollo. All those reckless things you say--you never think first, do you?"
"No, not usually."
"And I've never had another man come to my house and kiss me on my doorstep without any warning like this."
"Well--" Apollo reached up to scratch the back of his head, feeling more than a little sheepish about that.
"You may be the most reckless person I know, Herr Forehead."
Apollo decided to ignore the use of his unflattering nickname, considering the situation. "Really?"
"Really. You don't need any help from songs. Or me." Klavier stroked his cheek again, then leaned in to place a kiss on the very center of his forehead, which made Apollo mind the nickname thing even less. "In fact, I think I could learn a few things from you. Why don't you come inside and show me how reckless you can be?"
That seemed like a nice, reasonable, reckless idea to him.
Rating: PG
Pairing(s), Character(s): Apollo/Klavier, Phoenix Wright
Warnings: None
Word count: 6,000
Summary: Klavier writes songs about seizing the day and throwing caution to the wind. Songs that Apollo hates. However, it's possible that certain amateur music critics know at least as much about recklessness as musicians.
Notes: Written for
pw_contest, for the prompt "He who hesitates is a damned fool". I wasn't sure what to do with this prompt until I imagined it as a line in a Gavinners song. Klavier quoting Mae West seemed right somehow.It was driving him crazy. He pressed his hands against the sides of his head, as if to prevent it from breaking open, because that was what he half-feared was going to happen. Fortunately, this act also covered his ears, providing a small amount of aural relief. His fingers felt cool against the warm skin of his temples, and the sensation calmed him. He was able to keep his voice level when he spoke. "Could you please ask her to turn that down, Mr. Wright?"
"Huh?" Mr. Wright looked up from his magazine, tilting his head to one side in a quizzical manner, although there was no way he didn't know what Apollo was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"The music," said Apollo.
"What music?"
"The terrible awful horrible music your daughter is playing!"
"Oh, that music." Phoenix nodded. "Don't worry, she'll turn it down in a bit. She doesn't keep it turned up this loud for long, usually." He paused to reflect. "A couple of hours, max."
"Mr. Wright, it's office hours," said Apollo, desperately. "I'm trying to file."
Phoenix sighed, a sound that was difficult to hear over the agonizing cacophony. "Okay, don't give me those big puppy dog eyes. I'm not going to stand between a man and his filing. Just wait a little longer. She's young, and this is her favorite song."
Apollo sighed too, giving up. He lowered his hands as he resigned himself to suffering through the rest of the song. "I hate this song," he said.
"What was that?" Mr. Wright asked.
Apollo couldn't tell if Mr. Wright really hadn't heard him or was pretending not to hear him, because either could have been true. He said again, louder, "I hate this song!"
"That's funny. Doesn't your friend sing this song?"
"What? No. Klavier Gavin isn't my friend."
"Wow, you're being a little harsh there, aren't you, Apollo?"
"No! I'm not. I meant we don't know each other that well. I'm not instantly friends with everyone I meet."
"Apollo, this music is bringing out a new side of you. I don't know if I like it."
"I didn't mean anything insulting by it," Apollo protested, though what Mr. Wright had said was partly true. The Gavinners' music was so jarring and unsettling that when it was playing, he had difficulty formulating his sentences as thoughtfully as he would have otherwise. "I like him. I don't have any problem with him whatsoever. Just his music."
"I didn't realize we had a budding music critic here at the agency. Should I add that to your skill list?"
Apollo doubted that Mr. Wright had gone to the trouble of writing up a skill list for him, so he didn't think there was any harm in saying, "Yes, that would be fine. I do know a few things about music. I like music. Good music, anyway. This stuff is--it's so discordant, but at the same time, it's so bland, like it's trying to sound tough and cool. You can tell it's meant to appeal mainly to teenagers who want to feel like they're being rebellious without actually having to rebel or upset their parents."
Once Apollo got started on a rant, it could be difficult for him to stop, especially with that--that song playing. He couldn't remember what this particular one was called. It wasn't one of the singles that he knew the titles of. "Listen to those boring lyrics. They're a string of clichés. There's the one about 'breaking every rule', and then 'he who hesitates is a fool'. And then something trite about being young and in love--" Apollo broke off. Mr. Wright was giving him a weird look. Weird even for him. Mr. Wright's grin was brittle, his eyes half-glazed.
Apollo froze, his shoulders stiffening. "Klavier's not--standing right behind me, is he?" he asked, uncomfortably reminded of embarrassing moments in TV shows.
"Oh no, not at all," said Mr. Wright.
Apollo exhaled in relief. "Good. That would have been--"
"Actually, he's standing a bit to one side."
Hoping that Mr. Wright was joking, Apollo slowly turned around. Mr. Wright was not joking. Klavier Gavin was standing there, aluminum briefcase in hand, regarding him coolly. He smiled when Apollo's gaze met his. "Hello, Herr Justice. Herr Wright. Nice to see you both."
"Hi," Apollo managed to say. He wanted to know how long Klavier had been there, but he couldn't ask that.
"Thanks for dropping by," said Mr. Wright. "It's always nice when the rock gods descend from on high."
Forcing a smile until his face hurt, Apollo wondered if there was some way he could exact a horrible revenge on Mr. Wright without harming him.
"Think nothing of it," said Klavier. "On high gets boring sometimes. I've got those papers you asked me about. I thought I'd bring them by personally, since it's been a while since I've seen you and my favorite Fräulein."
Mr. Wright perked up. This news managed to finally separate part of him from the couch as he sat up straight. "Papers? Give them here."
Apollo was sure the papers had something to do with one of Mr. Wright's secret law projects that he never got to know about, so he didn't bother asking. He watched as Klavier unhurriedly crossed the room. It was impossible to overlook the stylized G emblazoned on his briefcase. Klavier set the case down on the couch beside Mr. Wright, opened it, withdrew a portfolio, and presented it to Mr. Wright, all in one smooth movement, concluding with a flourish. "Ja, here they are."
"Danke," said Mr. Wright.
"Bitte," Klavier replied, with a trace of irony.
Apollo felt guilty that Klavier had overheard him, but he'd meant what he said, so he told himself he didn't have any reason to feel bad. He'd been honest. At least he hadn't gotten onto the subject of Klavier's singing. Which was fine, but not exactly to his taste. He'd liked the Gavinners' music better when Lamiroir had been singing with them.
"I'm going to go say hello to Trucy, if that's all right?" Klavier asked Mr. Wright.
"Fine by me! I know she'll be happy about it. Just knock first."
Klavier offered him a mock bow. "I always knock first."
Apollo kept smiling as Klavier passed close by him on the way to Trucy's room. Apollo could smell Klavier's doubtlessly expensive cologne. Their gazes met again. Klavier smiled and inclined his head, acknowledging him, but there was an edge of tension in that smile.
Klavier disappeared down the hall. Apollo heard him knock on Trucy's door and call her name. The music stopped instantly, followed shortly by a joyful squeal. Apollo supposed it must be nice to be listening to your favorite song, and then have the singer show up at your door. Not that he wanted Klavier showing up in his bedroom. Or anywhere, for that matter. He felt his face heat.
"I don't think reckless endangerment is that bad," said Mr. Wright.
Apollo turned to him, momentarily forgetting that he was angry at him. "What are you talking about?" Now he was talking about the comparative seriousness of crimes? Mr. Wright had a way of coming up with the most confusing non sequiturs.
"'Reckless Endangerment'. That's the name of the song. What kind of father would I be if I didn't know the name of my daughter's favorite song?"
"Oh. That does sound like the name of a Gavinners song."
"It's about being young. And driving too fast. And doing foolish things." Looking over the papers Klavier had brought, Mr. Wright shook his head with an expression that was probably meant to make him look wistful. "Ah, I remember those days..."
"Because now you don't do anything foolish," Apollo couldn't resist saying.
Mr. Wright looked up from his papers and regarded Apollo gravely. "Absolutely not. For one thing, I don't go around insulting musicians' music to their faces."
"That wasn't my fault. You didn't tell me he was there!"
"The court doesn't recognize these distinctions, Apollo."
"Ugh. If you're ever made a judge, I'm going to quit being a lawyer."
"Nobody likes a quitter, Apollo."
Apollo rolled his eyes.
"Speaking of which--" Mr. Wright adopted his rarely heard "boss voice", which was lower than his regular voice and quite frankly sounded ridiculous. "Weren't you supposed to be filing, Mr. Justice?"
"Yes, Mr. Wright." At least the music was no longer making his head ache, so he could concentrate on what he was doing.
Mr. Wright's old files were in the most nonsensical order. Apollo wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Mr. Wright had let Trucy file them when he'd first adopted her and then hadn't touched them since. Apollo was still filing when Klavier appeared again, this time with Trucy in tow, beaming up at him and talking about one of her new magic tricks.
Klavier waited for her to finish before announcing, "I should be going now. I'm sorry I can't stay longer. I have a trial in the morning."
"Wow, a trial," said Mr. Wright.
"Ja. Maybe you'll have another of those one day," Klavier said, turning to Apollo. "Herr Justice." Again, he made a point of walking close to Apollo as he headed for the door, giving him a sideways glance. Apollo flushed. He was sure Klavier was giving him a hard time because of what he'd overheard. That was fine. Apollo didn't mind teasing. Klavier smelled good, though. Was it cologne, or did he just smell that way?
"You okay?" asked Mr. Wright. Apollo gave a start, realizing that he'd zoned out. He'd hardly paid attention to Klavier and Trucy saying their goodbyes. Now Klavier was gone, and Trucy and Mr. Wright were both regarding him curiously, a scrutiny he could have done without. "You're looking dazed over there, junior partner," Mr. Wright observed.
Mr. Wright probably shouldn't have been calling him junior partner, considering the fact that he hadn't gotten his badge back yet, but Apollo didn't point that out. "I'm fine."
"I think you've had enough excitement for one day. No more rock gods for you!"
"Yeah, fortunately I don't know any more of them." Apollo returned to the filing cabinet, but he discovered that his heart was no longer in it. Not that his heart was ever fully invested in filing, but it was even less so now. Fortunately, since Trucy was hyper following her rock star visitation, she started talking to him animatedly and conjuring flowers out of the files. He didn't get any more work done that day. Mr. Wright seemed not to notice. Perhaps he had forgotten that Apollo was supposed to be working. That happened a lot.
Apollo didn't see Klavier often. As he'd told Mr. Wright, they weren't exactly friends, though they were more than acquaintances. After that awkward incident at the office, more than a week passed before Apollo caught sight of him again. This time, it was at the courthouse. Apollo was there running one of Mr. Wright's secretive errands, and as he left, he glimpsed the back of that familiar purple jacket, a patch of brightness in a crowd of dark suits, moving away from him down the street.
He experienced a twinge of guilt. Though he'd done nothing but voice his opinion the other day, he hadn't meant to insult Klavier. He felt he should talk to him about it, but he'd been putting it off. It wasn't as if he'd been avoiding him, but he hadn't exactly sought him out, either. "Hey, Klavier!" he called out, waving from the courthouse steps, only belatedly realizing he must have looked silly, shouting and waving like that.
Klavier heard him. He stopped, turned, and smiled. Then he waved, too, and shouted back as if he didn't care about looking silly. "Ja, Herr Justice, I'll wait for you!"
Apollo couldn't quite remember when he'd started calling Klavier by his first name, but it didn't feel right to call him Mr. Gavin, for obvious reasons. He also couldn't remember when Klavier had (mostly) stopped calling him Herr Forehead. He did still sneak a Forehead into conversation sometimes, but Apollo didn't mind that so much.
"Hi," said Apollo, out of breath when he caught up. There'd been no need to run down the courthouse steps and down the sidewalk, but he'd done it anyway. "How are you?"
"Much better now that you're here," said Klavier with a wink.
Apollo laughed, as that was all he could think to do when Klavier flirted with him like that.
"I'm going on a walk," Klavier added. "Do you want to come with me?"
He'd told Mr. Wright he was coming back after his trip to the courthouse, but Mr. Wright was unlikely to notice how long it took him to return. "Sure. I'm not doing anything else right now."
"Good. I could use the company."
Klavier started walking again, and Apollo kept pace with him. "Um, look," he said, "about the other day. I'm sorry I was insulting your songs."
"Oh, yes, that," Klavier smirked. "Are you still worried about that?"
"No, I'm not worried, exactly, but I--"
"Good. I'm not worried about it either. Criticism is good for the soul. And the look on your face when you saw me standing there made up for any blow to my ego." He chuckled.
Klavier looked away as they came to a crossing, just as the light changed and the walk sign lit. If there was one thing Klavier had, it was good timing. He gazed ahead, starting across the street. Apollo wondered if he had a particular destination in mind, but Klavier didn't enlighten him. They traveled in companionable silence together until they'd crossed the street and walked several more yards, when Klavier said, "And you're right."
"Huh?" asked Apollo, unsure of what Klavier was agreeing with.
"You're right," said Klavier. "About my music. It's a little immature, isn't it? That was fine when I was seventeen, but it's time to grow up now. That's why I quit. That, and I lost something important to me."
Apollo blinked. Klavier sounded so serious. Maybe even a little--sad? Before Apollo could identify the emotion, Klavier had looked away again, his attention caught by something up the street, his eyes widening. "Look, there's a food cart. I'm starving. Do you want something?"
"I'm kind of hungry, too." Apollo was reminded of the fact that he hadn't eaten lunch yet.
The prosecutor was drawn to the bright yellow and red umbrella above the food cart like a bee to a flower. "What do you want?" he asked. "It's my treat!"
Klavier had a way of making things happen. Before Apollo quite knew what was happening to him, the two of them were sitting at a picnic table in the park, eating kebabs and fries. Klavier was laughing, trying to turn his napkin into a paper rose, saying "Nein, I swear I can do it, a friend at law school showed me how. It's going to look like a rose, with a stem and leaves."
"Are you sure you didn't forget a step? It looks more like--like a stick, right now."
"Fine. I can admit defeat. Here you go. I present you with a stick, Herr Justice." Klavier brandished it at him.
As he took the stick, Apollo was half-amused by Klavier's failure, and half-flattered that Klavier had tried to make a rose for him. "It's the nicest stick of paper ever. And you can call me Apollo, you know." That was when he realized that he had been wrong and Mr. Wright had been right. He and Klavier were friends. When had that happened?
As Apollo was asking himself that question, Klavier's smile faded, and Apollo felt a tug at his wrist, his bracelet responding to some tension in the other man. He stopped smiling too and looked at Klavier, expectant.
"I'm glad you caught me today," Klavier said. "I was wishing for someone to talk to--and here you are."
"You can talk to me all you want."
"You're so generous." Klavier ate one of his remaining fries, taking his time about it, as if every bite of potato was a serious matter. "There's something I've been thinking about doing. I wonder if you could give me your opinion on it."
"You can always count on me for an honest opinion."
"I can, can't I? That's something that's so cool about you. I like it." He flashed a grin, and Apollo felt even more flattered, listening intently as Klavier went on. "You know I've given up music to concentrate on my law career. I thought I might take that a step further. Take some time off to study the law in depth. Travel more. Learn about the justice systems in other countries, get better at prosecuting before I really return to it. When I took so much time off from practicing law to tour with the band, I lost my focus. I need to find it again, so that when I come back, I'll really rock."
"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Apollo. Why was that the first question he asked?
Klavier shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'm going, yet. But--maybe a year, maybe two. I was talking to Mr. Edgeworth about it. He said he did something similar when he was around my age."
Two years. That was a long time. Apollo didn't know what to say. Klavier was counting on him for his honest opinion, but his first thought was, Don't go, Klavier. He couldn't say that. He didn't have any reason to, or any right. "You should do what would make you happy. If you think that'll help you, then do it."
"You make a good point. That's what I believe, too. People should do what makes them happy." He gazed across the table at Apollo. A few moments passed, and Apollo, discomfited, glanced down at the table. Klavier broke the silence with a laugh. "I'm sure it'll make you happy that I won't be making more awful songs for Fräulein Wright to torture you with, ja?"
"They're not all that bad," said Apollo. "Some of them are kind of okay."
"Objection!" Klavier teasingly pointed at him. "What's this unlikely change of tune? Are you sure you're not fibbing now? Trying not to hurt my feelings?"
"They're not bad for pop songs."
"Rock songs, you mean, but I won't argue about that. Okay, tell me which one you like, then. Do you have a favorite?"
Though he was already regretting bringing this up, Apollo was glad that the subject had changed. He raised his head. "The one about your boyfriend is sort of catchy."
"The one about my--boyfriend?"
Apollo realized what he'd said. "The one about the prosecution's witness. You know!"
"Yes, I know the one you mean. For some reason, people ask me more about that song than about any other. I wonder why that is?"
"I--like the chorus," Apollo protested, wishing that he hadn't tried to think of something nice to say. "And I don't like it very much."
"You're not going to ask me if it's about someone in particular?"
"No," said Apollo. "I'm not. I'm sorry I mentioned it." Although he had been a bit curious about who the song might be about. "If I asked, would you tell me?"
Klavier was biting his lip, his eyes shining as he tried to contain what was obviously the beginning of a dangerous laughing fit. It took him a minute to collect himself. When he spoke again, his tone was formal and carefully controlled. "Nein, Herr Justice, I am afraid I promised I would never tell. I'm a man of my word, you see."
"Or maybe you wrote it because you wanted people to ask you about it."
"That's a theory," said Klavier. Thanks to his bracelet, Apollo could tell it wasn't a correct theory, but he didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he swore to himself that he'd never try to say anything charitable about Klavier's music again. He owed it to Klavier to be honest. Klavier had said it was cool that he was honest.
They finished their kebabs and fries together, and no more was said about travel or music, but somehow, it was easy to talk to Klavier, and they seemed to have no shortage of things to say to one another. They talked until Klavier had to return to his office. Alone again, Apollo returned to the courthouse, where he'd left his bike, then rode the bike back to the Wright Anything Agency.
The agency was abandoned. Mr. Wright was nowhere to be found. "Hello? Anybody here?" Apollo called out as he stood in the middle of the empty office. No one answered him. It wasn't particularly surprising. Mr. Wright often wandered off without notice. Trucy, too, came and went a lot. She worked so hard on her act, and at school. Sometimes she simply vanished for a while, like the magician she was. Apollo was often left there on his own, which was odd, since it wasn't his house. He only worked there. "I guess it's just me and Charley again," said Apollo, as he passed by the potted plant and gave it a friendly pat.
Mr. Wright hadn't left him any work, so Apollo had nothing to do. He could have followed Mr. Wright's sterling example and sat down on the couch to watch television, but he felt too restless for that. Instead, he walked through the door that opened onto the short hall leading to Mr. Wright and Trucy's bedrooms. Maybe he wasn't supposed to go back there, but Mr. Wright had never told him not to do so.
The doors to Mr. Wright and Trucy's rooms were both open. Mr. Wright's bedroom was a mess--there wasn't any other word for the space between four walls that had been made to contain a particularly cruel whirlwind. Trucy's bedroom wasn't what anyone would call "neat" either, but it had been spared the worst of the whirlwind, and was better described as cluttered and colorful.
Apollo hesitated in front of Trucy's doorway. It was impossible to miss the Gavinners posters on her walls. It was odd to see Klavier smiling at him from a poster right after having eaten lunch with him. On an impulse, he stepped through the door. He wondered if Klavier felt weird about seeing his picture plastered up on walls. Apollo would have been mortified by that, but Klavier was probably used to it by now. He seemed like the sort of person who enjoyed having his picture up.
Trucy's computer was on, though it was asleep, and Apollo found himself regarding it thoughtfully. What was wrong with him? He wanted to hear that song again. That stupid, horrible song. He couldn't comprehend his own motivation, so he didn't try. He woke up the computer, and as he's suspected, there was "Reckless Endangerment", ready to play. Apollo reached out, hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the mouse decisively and clicked. At once, the room filled with the sound of obnoxious guitar playing.
So--loud! He'd forgotten to adjust the volume, and it was up at the earsplitting level Trucy favored. He fumbled with the mouse again, and managed to get the sound down to a reasonable volume in time to spare himself irreversible damage to his hearing. Then he could listen to Klavier's music without fear of physical harm, at least.
It was difficult not to listen to the quality of his voice critically. Klavier wasn't bad, but Apollo could have taught him a little something about vocals. His own vocal training regimen was the best. If Klavier wasn't giving up music, he might have offered him some advice, but there was no need to do that now. Apollo focused on the lyrics instead. Unfortunately, he was all too familiar with the song, though he'd never gone so far as to contemplate its words before.
Having fun, being in love, going after what you want: standard pop song--no, rock song--messages. He frowned, listening to Klavier sing, It's a case of reckless endangerment. Endangerment didn't even rhyme with anything, but Klavier didn't seem to care. He sang on. Then came the chorus, and, He who hesitates is a damned fool, which was a quote from somebody else, but you were allowed to do that in lyrics, apparently.
Apollo hadn't expected the way he'd reacted to Klavier's plan to travel the world. If he hadn't hesitated, he would have told Klavier to stay. That didn't make sense. Klavier should do what he wanted. What did it matter if he left?
Apollo was so caught up in contemplating the matter that he jumped and nearly knocked over Trucy's desk when Mr. Wright suddenly bellowed from the doorway behind him, "Apollo, I'm shocked."
Apollo, once he'd regained his footing, turned, raising his hands. "I wasn't doing anything, I--"
Mr. Wright put his own hands on his hips. Beneath his beanie, his eyebrows became highly visible as they drew together above the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his severe glower. "Sneaking into my daughter's room when no one's around, going through her things. This doesn't look good, Apollo."
Apollo's face felt so hot, it was starting to hurt. "No! I--I mean, it's nothing like that."
"As a concerned father, I think I'm going to have to have a long talk with you. This isn't appropriate behavior for an employee of the agency."
"But Mr. Wright, I'm gay, I swear! I wanted to listen to the song. That's all!"
Mr. Wright's hands remained firmly on his hips, and his glower didn't falter, but when he opened his mouth to speak again, his expression softened. "Ha ha, I can't keep that up." He brought up one of his hands to wipe an imaginary tear of mirth from his eye. "Ah, that was a good one, though."
Apollo should have known. Now it was his turn to put his hands on his hips. "Mr. Wright," he said, warningly.
Undeterred by hand placement, Mr. Wright took the few necessary steps toward him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Apollo, I know you'll protect Trucy's virtue with the last of your strength."
Apollo didn't know what to say to that, so he settled for making an irritated noise.
"But I am concerned about something," said Mr. Wright. "What happened since I saw you this morning? Some great, calamitous event, no doubt. I can't even imagine. What trauma could possibly change you so much that you would willingly listen to Gavinners songs?"
"It wasn't traumatic. I had lunch with Klavier."
"So--it's something else that's changed your ways. I wonder..."
"Nothing changed me," Apollo said, to forestall any further wondering. "I've never liked the Gavinners, and I never will. I was thinking about Klavier's music, since we were talking about it, so I wanted to listen to that song again. Out of curiosity."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Yes. Perfect sense."
"But there's something else bothering you, right?"
Apollo looked at him sharply. Mr. Wright, in spite of his annoying ways, could be alarmingly perceptive. Apollo wondered about that sometimes. "Maybe it's certain people who sneak up behind me and harass me for no reason."
"Apollo, that is no way to talk to your boss."
"I didn't say I meant you."
"Fair enough. You only vaguely described my action of a few moments ago." Mr. Wright smiled and gave Apollo's shoulder another pat in a faux-avuncular manner, which Apollo could have taken as patronizing but decided to take as another of his jokes. "What's really bothering you?"
Apollo realized the Gavinners were still playing, and he quickly turned them off. "It's no big deal. Klavier was telling me he's planning to go abroad for a while, to study foreign legal systems. I was thinking about what he said, that's all."
"Study foreign legal systems?"
"He thought it would help him to regain his focus on the law or something."
"Foreign legal systems?" Mr. Wright said again.
Apollo blinked at the repetition. Mr. Wright seemed, for once, to be genuinely irritated.
"Here's the thing about studying foreign legal systems," said Mr. Wright, holding up a hand, his pointer finger pointing. "You can do it from here. You can be as great a lawyer as it's possible to be and not go anywhere. Not that there's anything wrong with travel, but if someone says they want to travel to become a better jurist, there's probably another reason they want to go."
Apollo nodded, though he took a step back, as emphatic Mr. Wright was slightly alarming. "That makes sense. He's had a hard time lately. Though he doesn't act like it."
"Some people are like that. It's hard for them to show their feelings. Not like you and me, right?" Whatever stern spirit had animated Mr. Wright for a moment fled, because he made a fake finger gun out of his pointer finger and mimed firing this gun at Apollo, which might have been meant as a weird display of solidarity.
"Yeah, not like you and me," said Apollo, who didn't want to get into a discussion about it.
"What's that?" Mr. Wright asked, changing the subject in his usual whimsical way.
Apollo had to jump back quickly, away from the hand that was headed toward his vest pocket. He glanced down. Sticking out of the pocket was the napkin stick Klavier had made for him. Its white paper stood out against the red fabric of his vest. He'd almost forgotten he'd put that there. "It's a paper flower. Klavier made it."
"I'm glad Gavin went into music and not visual art."
"Very funny," said Apollo. Feeling the need to defend his flower-stick, he said, "It's not that bad. He's out of practice. It sort of looks like a--" Apollo couldn't lie. "--a stick," he concluded.
Mr. Wright considered the stick, though he didn't try reaching for it again. "If you don't want Klavier to leave, maybe you should tell him."
"I didn't say that. He can go if he wants. It's fine with me."
"That makes sense. Things will probably be easier for you without your rival around."
"He's not my rival. He's always giving me clues. Like I can't figure things out for myself."
"Well then, things will be easier for you without--" Mr. Wright faltered. "Uh, without someone helping you?"
"Right," agreed Apollo.
"Right, you don't need any help. But think about what I said, okay?"
"I'll think about it."
Apollo was being slightly sarcastic when he said those words, but he did think about it. All through the rest of that day and into the next. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. That alone would have been bad enough, but he had another problem. Listening to "Reckless Endangerment" instead of struggling to ignore it, as he usually did, had had the awful side effect of getting the song stuck in his head. As he biked to work, he caught himself humming it out loud. Later, after he'd returned to his endless filing job at the agency, Mr. Wright asked, "What're you whistling over there?"
Horrified, Apollo realized what he was doing. "Nothing!"
"Okay," said Mr. Wright, "but I've got my eye on you, Justice."
Apollo kept asking himself: what if Klavier did go? He'd be away for so long. What if he decided not to come back? He could probably become a prosecutor in Germany without any trouble. Apollo might never see him again. They were friends, but not close friends. It wasn't as if Klavier would necessarily feel obligated to keep in touch.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? He had to make himself forget.
"Hey, you've still got your amazing Klavier Gavin creation," Mr. Wright pointed out as Apollo was leaving for the day.
"What? Oh." Apollo looked down. The stick-flower was still there, the white paper of the former napkin peeking out of his vest pocket. "You're right." He hadn't been able to bring himself to take it out and throw it away. He wanted to keep it. Klavier had given it to him.
Maybe that was why, with the bloomless napkin flower still in his pocket, Apollo found himself biking to Klavier's house. It was a reckless thing to do, because Klavier might not have been there, or he might have had company. Fortunately, Klavier's motorcycle was there, parked right out front. When Apollo knocked on the door and Klavier answered, Klavier seemed to be alone. He also seemed to be surprised, his eyes widening, then narrowing as he smiled. "Apollo," he said, and he was probably about to say something else, but he didn't have the chance, because Apollo reached up, grabbed him by the lapels, then pulled him close and kissed him.
Klavier didn't react at first, and Apollo experienced an instant of panic--this was going to be so mortifying if Klavier didn't kiss him back--but to his relief, after a frozen moment, Klavier's arms slid around his waist. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Apollo's. He tasted as nice as he smelled.
"Don't go, Klavier," Apollo said, when he somehow managed to break the kiss for long enough to speak.
"Go?" asked Klavier. He drew his head back slightly. Confusion flickered across his face as he considered Apollo's words. When understanding came to him, his laughter was low and rich. "To study abroad, you mean! Ja, I already decided not to. It was only a possibility I was toying with. I had no idea you would react so passionately to it."
Apollo, already flushed, was unable to flush any further. He felt lightheaded. "Then I did this for nothing?"
"Not for nothing, I don't think." Klavier stroked the side of his face with a fingertip. He was gazing into Apollo's eyes.
Apollo's eyes had never been gazed into so intently, but he didn't look away. "I was trying to be more reckless. Like--" Oh no. He'd almost said it. This was worse than the humming.
"Like what?" Klavier prompted, when he didn't continue.
Having an obligation to the truth could be a problem. "Like in the song. The one about not hesitating. And doing what you feel." He spoke the title unwillingly. "'Reckless Endangerment'."
"My song?" When Apollo nodded, Klavier shook his head slowly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have given up on my music career. When my songs have such an effect even on people who don't like them."
"I wouldn't go that far," said Apollo quickly, not wanting to be responsible for unleashing any more of Klavier's music on the world.
"Someday. I might go back to it. When I finally figure out how to write a song Apollo Justice likes. But you're being very foolish. You're already reckless enough, Apollo. All those reckless things you say--you never think first, do you?"
"No, not usually."
"And I've never had another man come to my house and kiss me on my doorstep without any warning like this."
"Well--" Apollo reached up to scratch the back of his head, feeling more than a little sheepish about that.
"You may be the most reckless person I know, Herr Forehead."
Apollo decided to ignore the use of his unflattering nickname, considering the situation. "Really?"
"Really. You don't need any help from songs. Or me." Klavier stroked his cheek again, then leaned in to place a kiss on the very center of his forehead, which made Apollo mind the nickname thing even less. "In fact, I think I could learn a few things from you. Why don't you come inside and show me how reckless you can be?"
That seemed like a nice, reasonable, reckless idea to him.
