AN: Written for a prompt on the infamous kink meme, inspired by one of those fuzzy email chain letter stories you get. Y'all know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. And…well, to be honest, I teared up when I was writing the end, badly enough that I had to go find something to wipe my eyes. That doesn't happen often. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. All characters belong to Capcom. Thanks!
"Can't you make this thing go any slower?" Apollo had to holler to be heard over the wind rushing past them as the motorcycle sped down the highway. He tightened his arms around the driver for safety.
Sitting in front of him, Klavier chuckled. "Ach, Mein Forehead, you are not used to her yet?" Apollo muttered something that the rock star couldn't hear, but he assumed that it was nigh unprintable and laughed out loud. "Would you feel better if you had the helmet?"
It had been an interesting morning, to say the least. Not only were they running late (though if asked why, Apollo would have blushed and Klavier would have said something about gentlemen not kissing and telling, and then Apollo would have slugged him), but when they'd made it down to the motorcycle, they had been startled to find only one helmet there. The other one, which Apollo usually used, had vanished since the night before. A quick search had produced nothing.
Normally, neither would have dared to ride without a helmet, but they were running incredibly late, and Klavier's car was in the shop…surely it would be all right, just this once.
Now, clinging to Klavier's back for dear life, Apollo was having second thoughts. When he heard Klavier's teasing reply, he called back, "Yes, I would feel better if I had the helmet!"
Klavier removed one hand from the bike and tugged the helmet off. But before he handed it over his shoulder to his anxious passenger, he couldn't resist one last tease. "If you want the helmet, you have to tell me you love me first!"
"WHAT?" Apollo squawked.
"Come on, Apollo," Klavier said with a grin that his rider could not see. Teasing Apollo was always fun. "Tell me you love me, and I'll give you this so you can mess up your hair!"
There was a pause before he felt the gentle pressure of a kiss touching the back of his neck. "I do love you," Apollo said in the softest voice he could while still being heard.
Satisfied, Klavier passed the helmet back, and Apollo put it on.
When the phone call came, Phoenix could not believe what he was hearing. Ema was frantic, demanding that he hurry to the hospital. There was precious little time to waste, as the worst could happen at any moment. Although, she added in a quivering voice, the worst had already happened once.
Which is why the attorney turned pianist found himself here, sitting at the bedside of a young man who currently looked more dead than alive; according to the doctor he had spoken with, it was no small blessing that he was alive at all. Apollo was a mess, hooked up to every tube and machine imaginable, or so it seemed to Phoenix.
Trucy had come with him. She had cried herself to sleep in another chair. That was probably for the best, all things considered. First the news about Apollo, and then Klavier…
All they could do now was wait for Apollo to wake up. And hope that Apollo did wake up.
Several days passed with no response.
Then finally, Apollo did wake up. It was slow going at first. He barely remembered his own name, let alone the people around him. He was confused and disoriented, and everything seemed to keep fading in and out. The doctors assured the anxious Phoenix and Trucy that this was normal and would pass.
The doctors were proven right. Eventually, Apollo stabilized, much to the relief of his friends, family, and colleagues. His facilities soon returned, and he proved that in spite of their fear of head injuries from the brutality of the crash, he was surprisingly coherent. The helmet saved his life, they told him, unaware that the news cast a layer of ice over his heart.
But one thing bothered Apollo: no one had said anything to him about Klavier. Not a word.
Finally, one afternoon, Mr. Wright came into his room for a visit. And Apollo seized his chance. "Mr. Wright?" he said softly. "…what happened to Klavier? He was on the bike too…"
He actually saw Phoenix Wright's shoulders tense, and took that as a bad sign. Then Mr. Wright raised a hand and touched it to Apollo's shoulder. "There's really no sense in hiding it from you, Apollo…" he said, something unreadable in his eyes, "…Klavier didn't make it. He died on impact."
Apollo stared, unable to process the words for a long moment.
When they did seem to click in his mind, he felt completely cold. Any and all feeling flooded away from his body, leaving only an icy numbness that he doubted anything could penetrate.
Klavier was gone.
…why couldn't he cry?
Mr. Wright stood there, like he expected Apollo to break down. But all Apollo could muster up was a dead, hollow look and a request for Mr. Wright to leave because Apollo wanted to sleep. He rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his chin and squeezed his eyes closed before Mr. Wright could answer.
He heard the door open and close, and knew he was alone.
When Apollo opened his eyes, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He blinked several times to try and clear his head (which he already knew was not functioning at its usual best), but it made no difference. The image before him remained the same.
Klavier Gavin was standing in the middle of the room, looking alive and well and every inch the glamorous (or glimmerous, depending on who you asked) rock star he had been up until a couple of weeks ago. "Surprised to see me, Mein Forehead?" he said with a grin.
"K-Klavier!" Apollo gasped. To his amazement, he was able to sit up with no problems. This was the hospital room, he knew that much, but the machines and tubes had all vanished, and nothing hurt. The realization hit, and left him cold. "…this is a dream, isn't it?"
"Ja, it is," a shrug of shoulders and a toss of blonde bangs.
"…oh," was all Apollo could say as hope turned to numbness in the space of a mere moment. He had wanted so badly to believe that Klavier was alive and this was all some sort of nightmare or sick joke.
A hand touched his shoulder. "Do you understand what happened?" Klavier asked in a softer voice.
"We c-crashed…" Apollo murmured. "And you…"
"Look at me."
Apollo couldn't disobey. He lifted his eyes and looked straight into Klavier's shining blue ones.
"The brakes failed, Apollo," he said. "I could not stop my hog. She was on the wind."
"…you knew? I mean, you knew we would crash?"
"Ja. Or at least I expected it at that point."
Realization dawned. "But then…you…" Tears sprang to Apollo's eyes as he got it. He understood.
"Ja, Apollo. I did. I had the choice to make, and I chose this. And I have no regrets for this choice, and you should not have any either," Klavier's smile was soft as he leaned forward and pressed a very gentle kiss to Apollo's infamous forehead.
"I was happy," Klavier said in that same soft, gentle voice. "I knew it was trouble. So I heard you tell me you loved me one more time, which always made me so happy to hear…and I gave you the helmet."