So Klingt Liebe

Three weeks passed. Klavier didn’t call him. Machi was afraid of what that meant, so of course he didn’t call to confirm the worst. Instead, he busied himself with school and the recent school play he was cast in. Thanksgiving was coming up. Machi told himself he was distracted enough that it didn’t matter. He didn’t need that answer. He told himself to stop thinking it over and over again.

“Have you and Klavier broken up?” Edgeworth brought up the very words that haunted them over tea one day.

“No. Well, I don’t know. We had a bad night, I did something stupid, and he hasn’t called me since. And honestly I don’t know if we counted as together in the first place.” Machi stared at his teacup, running his finger tentatively over the lip. He wondered how completely obvious he was, calling Edgeworth and spending more time with he and Lamiroir than usual.

Edgeworth sipped his tea. His posture was perfect, his pinkie delicately raised. “I thought it must be something like that. He acted oddly when I asked about Thanksgiving, and has been stumbling around the office like someone stole his left shoe.”

“Are you sure it isn’t because Detective Skye has been in town?” Machi wrung his napkin in his hand.

“I’m unsure what that would have to do with Klavier,” said Edgeworth, evenly distributing butter over every millimeter of his scone.

“Because… they were once together, but she left him.”

Edgeworth looked up from his scone. He was a bit disdainful, though gentleness touched his gray eyes. “He’s not seeing her, if that’s your concern. He is not that kind of person.”

Machi squirmed in his chair, unable to get comfortable. “I know, but what if he still loves her? After all, she’s a girl, and I’m so much younger than him… maybe…”

“Did he say that?”

“What?”

“That he still loves her.”

“No, but… maybe…”

“Machi.” Edgeworth cut through Machi’s worried stammering. “If it concerns you that much, why don’t you ask him?”

“I don’t want to get in the way. I made him so angry.” Machi bound his hand with his napkin tightly. “I messed everything up.” He stared at his lap. He knew Edgeworth was looking at him.

“You’re going to encounter bumps in the road. Are you willing to give up on him because of that?”

“He could call me.”

“He won’t, will he?” The sympathy in Edgeworth’s voice was heartbreaking. “Sometimes, you have to reach out a little bit.”

Machi said nothing for a very long time. Edgeworth slowly ate his scone without leaving a single crumb on his cravat.

“I think I should go home now,” Machi said.

“I’ll drive you.”

They didn’t speak of Klavier anymore on the drive back. Edgeworth played Dvořák and they discussed the horn solo in New World Symphony, though this was old ground for them. As Machi climbed out of the car, Edgeworth stopped him with his voice.

“You are still coming to the Christmas party, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t going to,” said Machi. “Unless Klavier said something to me about it.”

“I think he’s going to need you there. Frankly, he’ll be miserable if you don’t go and make a terrible host. It would be an embarrassment for the prosecutor’s office.”

Machi leaned on the doorframe. “And that’s why you really want me to come?”

A tiny bit of a smile threatened the corner of Edgeworth’s lips. “It’s entirely possible.”

“It,” said Machi, shutting the door, “Is not.” He marched up the driveway, hiding his amusement.

Edgeworth rolled down the window, calling out to him. “So are you coming?”

Machi stopped at the doorstep and turned to meet him. He didn’t know why a smile suddenly lit his features. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, especially since I’m not coming to Thanksgiving.”

“Good. Thalassa mentioned wanting to take you clothes shopping for the party, I’ll let her know so she can make arrangements.”

“Thanks, Herr Edgeworth.”

“And to you, Herr Machi.” This time, the smile that threatened made its appearance. Machi blushed, suddenly realizing what he just said.

He ran inside and slammed the door behind him.


The onset of December always sent Machi into a bleak depression. The combination of twinkling lights, bright red and green decorations and the constant barrage of Christmas carols gave him a headache and made him vaguely nauseas. Even the reappearance of a certain rockstar-turned-prosecutor couldn’t shake his malaise. In fact, Klavier made it worse, in a way. He was busy with a case, never had time for anything but nightly phone calls and a snagged dinner here and there.

There was never a conversation about that night, really. After speaking to Edgeworth, Machi phoned Klavier and tried to put his emotions into adequate English. Klavier simply said, “Apology accepted. I acted badly as well. Let’s move on.” And when Klavier saw him next he had a rose for him and his hand at the small of Machi’s back. Nagging thoughts were put to rest when Machi had so little time to see Klavier.

What burdened him more at the moment was that Machi had no idea what to get Klavier for Christmas. Klavier gave no hints, just a charming grin, saying that whatever Machi wanted to give him was just fine.

Though Klavier clearly didn’t have much time for reading, nor seemed the type to care for literature, Machi wandered into a bookstore. He perused one shelf, brushing fingertips over Lolita. Daryan bought him a Borginian translation as a gift once. He was proud that the irony wasn’t lost on him at the time, but as years passed Machi wondered about the book. Reviews often made Lolita out as a terrible little girl, but what sort of control did she have over her life, really? What sort of control did Machi have when he met Daryan?

Machi paced the store. He caught himself humming along with a country rendition of “Silent Night” on the radio. His annoyance found him in the magazine rack, where a tabloid headline screamed for his attention.

“GUILTY LOVE?”

At first, he didn’t realize what it was the headline was describing. His mind went blank for a moment as he stared at the blurry, pixilated mess. Then the information all caught up at once: it was a camera phone picture of he and Klavier kissing.

Machi touched his lips in memory. The kiss wasn’t nearly as serious as the picture seemed to make it – just a brief embrace on Machi’s doorstep before parting ways for the night. The tabloid promised “exclusive photos of their secret gay love affair.” In a smaller box beneath the text was a clearer photo of them together at Steel Samurai World, holding hands. As Machi moved to pick up the magazine, he realized he was shaking, hands sweating so much it made it hard to turn the pages.

Despite both of their disinclination towards public displays of affection, inside was a veritable photo essay of their quiet dates and held hands. There was even another snapshot of a goodnight kiss. Scrunching up the paper in his hands, Machi forced himself to walk to the register and buy the rag even though his legs felt made of cement. Then tension seemed to snap him like a bow, and he ran 5 blocks to the prosecutor’s office. He blew past the secretaries like they didn’t exist and threw himself into Klavier’s office, expecting to interrupt him the middle of one of his important phone calls.

Klavier was crouched over his desk, resting his head on his arms. The first thing Machi noticed about his sleeping form was the dirty trails on his cheek from tears. Machi’s heart suddenly calmed. He brushed Klavier’s hair out of his eyes. Klavier muttered something in German Machi didn’t understand, and opened his eyes.

“Machi.” He smiled, and Machi’s heart broke and lit up all at once. Klavier’s eyes were still red from the tears, and his voice was so tired and sad. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Did I forget to meet you somewhere?”

“No. I’m sorry I just burst in like that, something happened… Are you okay? You were crying, weren’t you?”

“No, I’m sure I wasn’t,” said Klavier, fixing him with a charming smile and looping around Machi’s waist, pressing a face to his stomach. “How have you been, Machi?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Machi whispered, pushing Klavier’s hair out of his face. His hair seemed a bit dirty, maybe unwashed for a day or two. The curl it typically gathered itself into seemed a little unraveled. “You’re a mess.”

“I’ve been day and night at the office for this trial, ja? It’s always challenging to go against Herr Forehead.”

“Then why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t.” Klavier smiled and Machi felt his throat close.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Perhaps it is because I haven’t seen my engel in so very long.” He was laying on the charm thick and Machi almost grabbed him by the shoulders to shake him. He wanted to close his eyes and revel in the pet name, Klavier’s warm mouth nuzzling his belly, but he simply couldn’t.

“If you’re not planning on telling me, fine, I’ll drop it. I won’t force it out of you.” Machi freed himself of Klavier’s embrace and fished the crumpled gossip rag out of his pocket. “Look at this. They took pictures of us at my house. And at the amusement park, and Edgeworth’s tea place…”

Klavier took the magazine from his hands and looked it over. He laughed and set it on his desk. Laughed.

“What’s funny about this?” Machi spat. “They’ve been following us! Why? The Gavinners broke up four years ago, and Lamiroir and I quit music.”

“It’s very simple, engel. When you love something, you never let it go. Even if it’s a great band with a gorgeous front man that’s broken up. Naturally, the fräuleins have not forgotten us. Ah, look, they’re even theorizing that I’m with you to get revenge on Daryan.” Klavier kept smiling, but Machi thought he looked even wearier as he did it.

“You’re not upset?”

“Nein. You’re upset enough for both of us, aren’t you?” Klavier smoothed out the magazine more, tracing the lines of their figures.

“Isn’t enough that I made a mockery of Borginia by being a smuggler? Now they’ll hate me for being a homo, too. I can’t believe this, why won’t they just leave us alone?”

“Because we are famous, we never totally belong to ourselves.”

“I don’t know about you, but I belong to myself only,” Machi snapped.

Klavier rubbed his temple. “We should come clean about our relationship. I know some good reporters.”

“No. Absolutely not. What would we say?”

“That we’re indeed in a relationship, and to please give us our privacy.”

“They’ll want to know more. Besides, what would we say our relationship is, exactly?”

“I’ll ask an interviewer who’s too thick to get real answers out of us.”

“And our relationship?” Machi crossed his arms, staring at Klavier intensely.

Klavier ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you conducting an interview?”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, being so indifferent to all of this.” Machi hugged himself tightly. “I don’t even know where you stand with snackoo lady, and now I’m supposed to announce to the whole world we’re together? What does that even mean? It’s not like we’re ever going to have sex again, after that night…”

Klavier tugged at Machi’s fingers, grasping them and unwrapping him. He held both of Machi’s hands in his and squeezed them. “Ema was a very special fräulein. She and Herr Forehead were the first I ever became close to who didn’t treat me like a special rock star. Honestly, she dumped me… saying things like you say just now. Everyone… always… with me. Says that. Calling me unfeeling.”

Machi squeezed Klavier’s hands. “Do you still love her?”

“I do, but not in the way you fear. You know, just the other day she walked up to me and said, ‘Glimmerous fop, I have reached the scientific conclusion that you are a homosexual.’ Then she pelted me with snackoos for hiding the fact from her for so long.”

“What sort of evidence did she have?” Machi tried to keep a straight face, a difficult task with that mental picture.

“Something about the way I dress, I suppose. Ridiculous, I'm sure you'd agree.”

Machi only nodded. He was sure if he opened his mouth he would laugh.

Klavier took him off the hook by laughing himself. “Do you think I’m gay?”

“Maybe it’s my bad understanding of American concepts, but you seem pretty gay to me. Since you wear thumb rings. And fuck men.”

“My engel doesn’t count.”

“And Daryan?”

Klavier blanched. “We’re not like that. Weren’t. Aren’t. Why would you think…? I can’t be with men, I haven’t since… you’re the only one.”

Machi gave Klavier a smile he hoped was assuring, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “He had some sort of thing about you, that’s all. He would never shut up about you, actually, so I thought maybe…”

“There were times things were weird but we were never like that. Kristoph was still… around, so I’m afraid I was oblivious to most everything.”

Machi looked over to the window. In the dark of the glass, he could see himself embracing his older companion. When he saw his expression, he wasn’t even sure what word to use for it. “I didn’t mean to upset you. So I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had?”

“Boyfriend sounds so childish.”

“I’m a…” Machi glanced over to the magazine. “Delicate, barely 18-year-old nymph, according to this paper. Boyfriend seems just fine. Besides, it takes the seriousness away from it, lover sounds so serious.”

“Don’t you want to be my lover?” Klavier looked up at him with a clearly bruised ego.

Machi kissed his nose. “Only in bed. I don’t want to be your lover to the rest of the world.”

“Ah… not only in bed, I hope. You struck me as more adventurous than that.” The sparkle of humor returned to Klavier’s blue eyes.

“You know what I meant.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I took you over this desk, or against the window, then?” Klavier tugged Machi down to his face, pressing a playful kiss to his lips.

“How are you even thinking about something like that right now?” Machi laughed nervously, feeling his face flush. He glanced over to the clock. “I have to get going, actually, I have play rehearsal. I was only going to do a little shopping before I went. Oh, that reminds me. What do you want for Christmas? I know you told me anything was good, but I need help.”

“Actually, I know exactly what I want.” Klavier’s gaze settled on Machi’s form, heavy and ponderous.

“Me in a skimpy Santa outfit?” Machi grinned mischievously.

“I wouldn’t object, but I’d like you to do something with you a little more appropriately attired.” Klavier smiled, stroking Machi’s cheek.

“Okay?”

“Please play the piano at my Christmas party. We need accompaniment, and if I let the piano go unattended, Herr Wright will play it and… I would be a bad host to allow it.”

“Wouldn’t want to embarrass the prosecutor’s office,” Machi snorted, remembering Edgeworth’s words. “I can’t, though. I haven’t played in years.”

“Just a few Christmas carols. Frau Thalassa and Fräulein Trucy so love singing carols, and I… I would love to hear you play again as well. I’ve ached for your light notes, lately, for some reason… all of the troubles of the world melt away when you play.”

Klavier’s words were earnest. That exhausted, sorrowful cloud over his features seemed to lift when he spoke of the music. Machi had no choice, of course. “I’ll do it. But instead, you have to wear the Santa outfit, okay?”

“Anything you wish, engel.”

Machi wished for many things. He wished on the glinting lights of the city outside their window and sealed it with a kiss to Klavier’s lips. Klavier rested his hands on his hips. They breathed each other for many long, still minutes as the world shrunk to the two of them.