So Klingt Liebe

Machi recognized the reporter before he even approached. Fantastic, of course he’d be stopped by the press on his way to Klavier Gavin’s Christmas shindig. Since finding that tabloid article, Machi’s senses were scanning double-time, crackling with electricity. He jumped at slammed doors and swore he saw cameraman lurking in every bush. As if to balance it out, Klavier seemed all the more mellow, not at all worried about being seen, always trying to kiss away his fears or otherwise distract him. It was driving Machi up and down a wall.

Somehow Machi wasn’t surprised when the mostly-bald man started to speak to him in the elevator. He tried to hide behind the box of presents in his arms, but it was too late.

He peeked through his brightly wrapped gift bags at the man’s bushy shock of hair. His gigantic nose seemed to be inflating like a red, strawberry-shaped balloon. At first, Machi thought perhaps the reporter wore over-strong aftershave. No, he realized the scent was mint as in toothpaste.

“Is that Machi Tobaye? Borginia’s pixie of the arpeggio?” The reporter could hardly contain his glee.

“…No?” It was worth a try. Machi couldn’t bring himself to think of himself by that title anymore, anyway. Tonight would be the first time he’d touched a piano since he was arrested.

“It is you, isn’t it, Mr. Tobaye? You know, there have been some pretty crazy rumors circling about you. Have you decided who you’re going to come out to?”

“I beg your pardon?” The elevator stopped. Machi bolted for the door. The toothbrush man kept pace.

“Which reporter you’re going to give your story to? Are you going to select one or go to the magazine that will pay the most for it? A celebrity’s got to consider these things.”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“I see. Quote, ‘Star’s brightness outshined by the glow of modesty,’ end quote.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Machi mumbled. Sighing heavily, Machi tried to figure out how he was going to knock on the door with his hands full. Fortunately, the overenthusiastic man in spectacles took it upon himself to ring the doorbell.

“Can I say something, for the record?”

The stranger took Machi’s withering silence as affirmation.

“A happy story like that might take away from the negative press the Gavins have been getting lately.”

“Negative press?” Machi tended to ignore current events. It wasn’t a big deal in his household; he was busy with other things. There were plenty of times he would be the last time to know about a bombing or a natural disaster, he was simply too absorbed in his own little world to care much. Seeing himself plastered on a tabloid front page had made him want to watch or read the news even less.

“‘One star falls, another burns.’ Or maybe, ‘Prosecution witnesses the execution, creates quite a scene…’”

“Execution…” Machi was overtaken with dizziness. He almost went down, arms too full to brace himself. From behind him, strong hands grabbed his shoulders to steady him. “Daryan,” Machi gasped.

“Phoenix Wright, actually,” replied a voice that Machi found oddly familiar. Machi turned slightly to see a person he’d expected to look a lot less civilized. Instead, he saw a broad-shouldered man with hair slicked back and a tendency towards laugh wrinkles. He wore a navy suit that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. “Why don’t I take that off your hands? Thalassa said you’d be coming with goodies.”

Machi stood stiffly as Phoenix took the box. He tried to form words but he was afraid he’d blurt out the obvious. Daryan’s execution date wasn’t for a while yet. But Kristoph’s…

Phoenix smiled at him. Machi had thought he might hate the man, jealous of his place in Thalassa’s heart and his role in taking Lamiroir away from him. He smiled and Machi couldn’t hate him at all. He was so calm.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Machi,” said Phoenix.

The door swung open. The three party guests were assaulted with Ella’s Swingin’ Christmas and the mouth-watering smell of a dozen delicious foods. Red-clad arms snaked out like tentacles and grabbed Machi about the waist, tugging him into the apartment.

“You’re here, engel! And you’re under the miseltoe!”

“Well now I am!”

Machi suddenly received a face full of Klavier kiss. His lips were hot, his breath tasted of sweetness and bourbon. Machi kissed him back for about three seconds before he realized Phoenix and the reporter were still standing there. Machi pushed Klavier away. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” He said to Klavier in a stage whisper.

“Nein, nein. I am merry!”

Machi wanted to admire Klavier in his Christmas-red suit and designer Santa hat. The way he flourished and laughed, he seemed to be quite relaxed.

“You look good,” said Klavier, appraising Machi. “Though I wish you’d picked something in a more lively color. Charcoal is so… blah.”

Machi snatched his box of presents from Phoenix, covering the sight of his clothes. “I’m putting these under the tree,” he muttered.

Klavier moved on to greet his other guests. He kissed Phoenix on the cheek.

“Your party hasn’t even started and you’re already hammered, Klavier,” Phoenix chided Klavier gently. “Miles is going to kill you if you embarrass the prosecutor’s office.”

“I’m not dancing on the tables yet, Herr Wright.” Klavier giggled, and Machi’s chest tightened. “I’m saving that for later.”

Machi turned away. He kneeled at the tree that dominated most of Klavier’s living room. Yesterday, they had a few drinks while trimming it, hanging bits and baubles while humming along to Nutcracker Suite. Many of the ornaments were family heirlooms. He wondered how Klavier could stand to look at them every day. He wondered if Klavier ever missed Germany like Machi missed Borginia.

As he set out each neatly labeled bag of Borginian cakes, Machi found himself slipping into a dream:

He and Klavier are sitting in front of a fire. Klavier’s paying that extra special attention to his ear in that way that makes him squirm. The door opens. Someone tall and imposing is in the doorway, a silhouette Machi feels he should recognize. He can’t bring himself to turn and see, but Klavier lets go and runs to the door.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, “I’ve been waiting. This kid’s starting to bore me, he’s so uptight.”

“Machi?”

Machi nearly jumped out of his skin. Someone’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to earth. He knew the sweetness of the touch without looking, and stood up suddenly to embrace a slender waist.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Machi pressed his face into Thalassa’s shoulder. “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came.” He wanted to crawl underneath Thalassa’s skin and stay there. Didn’t want to hear any more Christmas music, didn’t want to see Klavier flirt with each guest as they came in.

“Shh, it’s okay, everyone’s here. Klavier needs you right now.” Thalassa stroked his back, murmuring to him in Borginian.

“Are you sure? I think if he drinks any more eggnog he’s going to forget I’m here entirely.”

Machi fingered the embroidery on Thalassa’s dress. She was lovely in green and gold. Nearby, he could see a bright-eyed girl in the same colors, her dress a more flirtatious cut. Machi recognized her as the top hat girl that visited him with Apollo in prison. She had to be a senior in high school by now, just like him.

Thalassa didn’t seem to have a reply for him, so she said, “Let me introduce you to my children. They’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“I’ve met them,” Machi reminded her, but he was already being tugged over to meet her daughter.

“You remember Trucy. Trucy, this is Machi.”

“Machi!” Trucy threw her arms around the blond boy like they were old friends. “My cute little brother! You’re going to play Christmas carols for us, aren’t you?”

“Since when am I your…”

“This is my boyfriend, Jean Paul. He’s president of the drama club at school!”

Machi stared at the black-clad, beret-wearing teenager and wondered if Trucy hadn’t perhaps adopted her mother’s habit of surrounding herself with homosexuals. Jean Paul was giving him the eye. Machi looked over his shoulder for Klavier, who was greeting Apollo and a blue-haired woman at the door.

“I like your suit, but you should not have picked such a dark color,” said Jean Paul through his nose.

“Everyone’s saying that tonight.”

Trucy stared at the two young men. She grabbed Jean Paul by the arm. “Daddy said he wanted to play poker with my new boyfriend, let’s go!”

Thalassa chuckled as Trucy dragged her boyfriend in the other direction.

“She saw him checking me out, didn’t she?” Machi grumbled.

“You should have seen Alexi. And Julian. And Roberto. Phoenix always ends up running them off when they flirt with him and Miles during the poker game.”

Thalassa waved Apollo and the blue-haired lady over. Both were dressed conservatively in black and white. Machi was happy to see Apollo looking so accomplished. His eyes seemed far less hungry than they did those years ago. Thalassa gave the two a hug and a kiss each.

“Hi mom,” said Apollo sheepishly, only a little embarrassed by the public display of affection. “Hi Machi. Long time no see.” Apollo offered him an awkward handshake. “This is Vera.”

And so it went through the night. Machi found himself trotted out and introduced to a dozen of Klavier’s guests. Machi tried to catch Klavier’s gaze across the room. It seemed when Klavier wasn’t throwing his arms around guests and kissing them on the cheek, he had a drink in his hand.

After Thalassa finally finished the rounds, Machi found himself sitting off to the side, watching the crowd with Apollo and Vera. They said very little to one another, bonding in the mutual exhaustion brought by facing such a crowd. They picked at their food.

Machi watched Klavier greet snackoo lady. His stomach turned to cold knots.

Klavier put a casual arm around snackoo lady that she shrugged off. It was only after the being harshly rebuked and assaulted with Christmas-colored snackoos that Klavier made his way over to Machi. “That’s everyone, engel. Would you like to play for us now?”

“Is that the only reason you invited me at all?” Machi muttered.

“I’m sorry, hasi, I can’t really understand Borginian that well.” Klavier offered him a hand up. When Machi took it, he pulled the smaller man into an embrace. He kissed Machi in a manner both sloppy and thorough. Machi broke the kiss.

“Klavier,” he breathed. “I’m getting drunk off your fumes.”

“And I’m getting drunk off you,” Klavier snickered, nuzzling his neck.

“Herr Edgeworth said not to embarrass the prosecutor’s office.” Machi tried to pry Klavier off him. Fortunately, Edgeworth seemed busy chatting with snackoo lady. He was certain the stern man would not approve.

“Why would I embarrass anyone? I’m only showing my lover some affection.” Klavier pawed at him, oblivious to how Machi was trying to squirm away. “We’ve got nothing to hide.”

Machi saw Apollo standing up over Klavier’s shoulder. He seemed about to interrupt. Machi shook his head, trying to signal him not to interfere. He extracted himself with some effort, holding Klavier by the shoulders. “Klavier, I’m going to start the set now. Mr. Yoostis, please get Klavier to sober up a little.”

“But I want to hear you play, it’s your present to me,” Klavier whined.

“Please, Klavier. For me.”

“You can hear him from the kitchen,” said Apollo with a sigh, taking Klavier by the arm. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

Straightening his jacket, Machi crossed the room to where Klavier’s keyboard stood by the Christmas tree. He sat at the bench, turned the keyboard to its piano setting and began to play. He was glad he was mostly background music to the laughter of the party. This gave him time to warm up his fingers before launching into slightly more complex music.

It was strange, finally touching keys like this. Machi hadn’t forgotten. His fingers glided easily. The notes that came out were full and sweet. He found himself blushing a little at the pleasure of it. He hadn’t realized he missed music this much.

“Can you play a duet, mon ami?” Trucy’s beret-wearing boyfriend slid next to Machi on the bench. “I would like to sing one with you, I think.”

“Get out of my space and I’ll consider it,” Machi said quietly. Jean Paul laughed and stood behind him. Shaking a little bit, Machi began to plunk out “Good King Wenceslas.”

“You can be the king and I’ll be the page, okay?” Machi said.

As Machi began to sing the first line of the song, Jean Paul leaned over, putting his hands on Machi’s shoulders. Machi was so startled he stopped playing, hitting sour notes. “What are you – I just told you not to do that!”

“What are you doing to my engel?” Klavier yanked Jean Paul away from Machi in a violent motion. “I know I didn’t just see you touching him. That would make you a rather poor guest.”

“I was just being friendly!” Jean Paul insisted.

“Get out of my party,” Klavier snarled.

“Klavier, he’s my date for tonight!” Trucy cut in. “I’m sorry for whatever he did, but you need to calm down, okay? I’ll make sure he doesn’t misbehave again.”

Klavier seemed to remember himself just then and let go of the collar of Jean Paul’s turtleneck. Jean Paul retreated into a corner. Trucy and Thalassa joined him there.

Everyone else edged away and feigned distraction in other things, except Machi. “Klavier, you’re starting to scare me. Jean Paul was being too touchy, but it was nothing I could not handle. Please let Mr. Yoostis sober you up.”

Klavier’s voice and expression grew soft. He took a single step forward, sitting next to Machi on the piano bench. Machi really didn’t like sharing that spot, but he made the exception for Klavier. Machi leaned against his shoulder briefly, feeling fingers brush his hair. “Please keep playing, engel, just one more song for me. Then I’ll have the coffee, I’ll sit out on the balcony a bit.”

Machi began to play. As he hoped, the tune made Klavier smile a little. He began to sing,

“Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht”

Machi began to sing along, haltingly. He taught himself a few carols in German from hymnals at the orphanage.

“Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar”

Klavier pressed his lips to Machi’s hair as he sang. Intending to rejoin on the next line, he stopped. Seemed to have something caught in his throat. Looking rather ill, he quickly stood up and walked out of the room. Machi watched him leave but didn’t stop playing. He flinched when he saw Ema following him to his room.

The party seemed to getting back into the swing of things and Machi simply wasn’t sure if he should interrupt things by ending the entertainment. For the third time this night, someone sat next to him on the bench. Phoenix Wright offered him a grin. “I’ll take over.”

Machi balked as he stood up and Phoenix took over with clunky, untrained fingers, but what else could he do? As visions of Detective Skye comforting Klavier swam in his mind, Machi rushed into Klavier’s bedroom. It was the first time he’d been there since the night they had sex, and now there was this woman.

He found Detective Skye angrily munching snackoos and regarding the closed door to the small balcony adjoining Klavier’s bedroom. Unsure what to say to her, Machi walked to the center of the room before looking over at her.

“He’s all yours, kid,” Ema crunched.

Machi forced a few more steps out of himself, touching the door handle. He saw now why Detective Skye was unable to console Klavier – he wedged a chair between the door and railing, making it difficult to open. He looked over his shoulder at Detective Skye.

“A word of advice?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever date someone who reminds you of your sister. Science has shown that’s a ticket to a bad relationship.”

What part of Klavier resembled snackoo lady’s sister, his hair? His neatly trimmed eyebrows? Machi nodded, dumbfounded. “I don’t have any living relatives, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Detective Skye regarded him with sympathy. It was a vast improvement from the anger and irritation that she’d worn most of the night. “Good luck. And Merry Christmas, I guess.”

“Right,” said Machi reluctantly. He knocked gently on the glass door.

Klavier leaned on the railing, looking out to the city. He glanced over his shoulder and watched Detective Skye leave. Once his ex-girlfriend was out of sight, he pulled the chair away. Machi opened the door, sucking in a breath when the cold hit him.

“Klavier. Are you feeling better?”

“Are you?” Klavier didn’t turn to look at him. The guitarist gently played with his curled hair.

“I’m fine. Worried about you, is all. Can you please come inside so we can talk?”

“What’s wrong with here?”

“I’m going to turn blue?” Machi tried for his cutest little voice, hoping to earn a laugh from Klavier.

He didn’t laugh, but Klavier straightened out, looking over the young man he’d been entangled with all this time. “Any color would improve you in that outfit, hasi. The gray just washes you out.”

“I guess I should’ve worn green, like the outfit Lamiroir picked. Then we would have matched.” Machi presented his hand expectantly. After a moment, Klavier took it and allowed Machi to bring him in from the cold.

They ended up sitting on the very edge of the foot of the bed. Klavier had wrapped presents at the last moment and left wrapping paper, scissors and tape all over the place. Machi found it charming. Klavier tried so hard to be perfect. Yet it suited him in a way to do something average and flaky like that.

Machi held Klavier’s hand firmly. “You know what you’ve been doing wrong tonight, Klavier, you’re not stupid. You’ve been drinking, acting out-of-control…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s because of Kristoph, isn’t it?”

Klavier withdrew contact, bending, shrinking, his head in his hands. “I…”

“He was executed recently. That’s why you were crying the other day.”

Klavier did not reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Machi spoke gently. Ran his hand carefully over his back. “I would have gone with you.”

“You’re one of the few people I know that’s never been exposed to him. I didn’t want you to be. Not you.”

“Klavier… You’re stupid, you realize that?” Machi almost laughed.

“Yes,” Klavier whispered.

“Not for the reasons you think. Not because he abused you. That’s not your fault.”

“Everyone always says that, but I was old enough to—”

Machi slipped to the floor in front of Klavier, kneeling. He tilted Klavier’s head, forced the eye contact Klavier avoided.

“He’s your brother. Was your brother. You love him. I don’t know what happened because you haven’t told me, but I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s never anyone’s fault that they’re abused. That’s why it’s abuse.”

Klavier gave that heartbreaking smile, the one he gave when he was exhausted but pulling together to energy to slam the wall right back into place. “You sound like my therapist.”

“You’re so stupid,” Machi whispered. If he tried to speak with more volume he was sure he wouldn’t keep back the tears. “I would have gone with you. I don’t care if he’s scary, or if you cried… You shouldn’t have been alone. And you always go alone. You don’t have to. I’m with you. You’ve always been here for me; please let me return the favor. I love you.”

Klavier seemed to unwind himself little by little. He touched Machi’s face. “I’m an immoral man, you know,” he breathed. “I loved you when I heard you play, that first time, when you were fourteen. You’re so sweet.”

“I seduced Daryan. Is that sweet?”

“He could have said no. I would have.”

“You weren’t interested.”

“Of course not. You were a child then.”

“But you loved me?”

“Ja.”

“Wanted me?”

“That came later.” Klavier placed a lingering kiss on his lips. “I hated Daryan a little bit. Lamiroir knew about you two and when I found out, I punched him in the stomach.”

“You didn’t.” Again, Machi repressed the urge to laugh.

“I did. I hate his guts, you know. He’s such an asshole. He does whatever the hell he wants with no regard to what other people think. You think for a long time that’s just his personality, but it’s a mask like anyone else wears. He doesn’t even really feel happy with it.”

“Are you sure hate is the English word you’re looking for?”

Klavier was silent for a very long moment, thinking. “He’s next, you know.”

“Ja.” Machi tilted his head, echoing the word he heard Klavier utter so often. “That’s what you do, though. They were criminals, and you’ve punished them.”

“And aren’t I a criminal? Dating this beautiful man 10 years younger than me.”

“Nine,” Machi corrected him. Then chuckled. “Nein.”

“And treating you like I have today. I’m a monster.”

Machi pulled fingers through Klavier’s hair, tried to straighten and untangle it from the mess the wind left it in. “You’re hurting. Trying to numb it. I’d like you to try and talk to me instead of doing that..”

“You mean what you said, didn’t you?”

“Which part?”

“That you love me.”

Machi nodded serenely. “Would I put up with this if I didn’t? How is it someone so charming and egotistical won’t just let someone else love him?”

“Ouch,” said Klavier with a very forced grin.

“Please don’t do that again,” Machi sighed. “You really caused a scene.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you or embarrassing you, hasi.”

“It’s not for my sake, I can handle it. It’s for you. I know it must hurt to see your friends look at you the way they have tonight.”

Klavier sighed. Tired of his perch at the end of the bed, he slid down to the floor next to Machi. He leaned against the bed. “I miss him. And I hate him. Years of therapy and I’m still running over the same old ground.”

Machi cuddled to his side, running fingers through Klavier’s hair. “Pink Floyd?” he asked, resting his forehead against Klavier’s shoulder. He hummed a few bars. “Running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears.”

“Wish you were here,” Klavier sang back, quietly. He petted Machi absently. “I think the worst part is that he’s my brother. We came from the same people, from the same situation. What if I turn out to be like him? What if I’m more like him than I imagine? I let him manipulate me countless times… I thought I’d make him happy. And then I see how you look at me, how scared you were of me earlier tonight.” Klavier swallowed. “Maybe I can’t help becoming like him. They say people who were abused re-offend, and I—”

Machi was sick of these words, so he did the only thing he could think of. He yanked Klavier by his hair and kissed him firmly. His free hand slid across the bed until it found its prize. With two snipping sounds, the tension that held Klavier in place suddenly broke.

Machi held Klavier's severed pigtail in one hand, a pair of scissors he’d noticed resting on the bed in the other. “You are not him. See? You don’t even look that much like him.”

The deep pools of Klavier’s eyes filled with tears. They streaked down his face, and Klavier let them. “Machi.”

Machi set down the scissors, still clutching Klavier’s hair as he put his arms around his older lover. Klavier began to sob, his body shuddering silently. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Where… am I going to find a hairdresser… at this hour of night?” Klavier sniffled.

“Klavier Gavin, are you fucking serious?” Machi yelped. And then collapsed into peals of laughter. Klavier laughed as well, and they held each other, tangled in limbs on the floor, exhausted.

“Polly, you proposed to Vera?!” Trucy’s shouting voice made its way over the murmurings of the party and pierced the dying laughter in Klavier’s sealed-off bedroom. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?!”

Machi chuckled, bumping foreheads with Klavier. “You should probably get back out there. They’re missing their host.”

“And their entertainment,” Klavier pointed out. He climbed to his feet and helped Machi up. Hand in hand, they rejoined the party.


The party was over and the apartment a wreck. Phoenix, Mr. Edgeworth, Thalassa and Trucy all tried to stay behind and help clean up, but Klavier pushed them out the door with charming words and locked the door behind. “Go do something to congratulate the happy couple. I’ll take care of this.”

It wasn’t so bad once the caterers left. Machi picked across the room, grabbing a plastic champagne glass or errant streamer here and there. Klavier sat at the electric piano, plunking at keys until a melody emerged and he began to sing in German.

“What’s that?” Machi asked, slipping an arm over Klavier. “Another German carol?”

“Something I’ve been working on, actually.”

“You play too strong with your left hand, it’s overwhelming the melody. And I think it might be better to play a little more legato right there in beginning, it sounds clunky.”

Klavier slid over on the piano bench. “Why don’t you show me?”

Machi recreated Klavier’s melody perfectly by ear. Whatever his misgivings about it, Machi’s title as piano prodigy was not an incorrect one. “I like this, it’s very easy to play. I can feel it touching me.” He leaned over to place a kiss to Klavier’s cheek. “It’s been a long time since you’ve written a song, hasn’t it?”

“And a long time since you’ve played.”

“Why is so important to you that I play again?” Machi studied Klavier’s face, pinkish gold in the light of the Christmas tree.

“Because I wrote this song for you. I’ve been composing it since we met, and now I’ve started to add words, but it requires someone truly talented at piano.”

“Ah,” said Machi, kissing Klavier’s lips with a knowing look. “So it was all a Gavinners revival after all.”

“Nein,” said Klavier, placing his hands on Machi’s shoulders. “It was for you and I alone. If you will help play it with me.”

“Yes,” Machi said simply, laying his lips over Klavier’s once more. They kissed like this for several long moments. Machi’s tongue quested past Klavier’s lips. Klavier pulled away, brushing a thumb over Machi’s cheek.

“I have a hair appointment first thing in the morning, and you have dress rehearsal. We should get to bed.”

“Okay,” said Machi, standing. “Make sure to drink a big glass of water or you’re going to be really hung over.” He walked to the bedroom, stopped in the hall to smile over at Klavier. “Drink lots of water before you go to bed, or you’re going to be really hung over, love.” That little word of affection slipped out and embarrassed him, but Klavier only seemed pleased. Then again, Klavier gave him nicknames that would be embarrassing in English.

“Of course, engel.”

Despite this being only their second night spent together, they were oddly comfortable as they tumbled into bedtime routines, brushing their teeth, washing their faces and combing out the tangles of the day. Machi made sure to call Joella to let her know he was staying tonight.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Klavier asked as Machi crawled beneath the covers beside him.

“Yes, it’s not difficult. I’m only in the first part of the play.”

“The ghost of Christmas past? Funny they cast you, I thought it was a girl’s part.”

“The book says it was a boy, someone youthful and blond,” Machi yawned, turning to spoon Klavier, arms around him. Klavier stiffened in the hold, and after a moment, Machi let go. “You never read the book?”

“The Gavinners was already a hit band when I was your age. I didn’t have time for reading.”

“Then I guess the play will be a new experience.” Machi tried to get comfortable. Klavier always turned to face him, didn’t like Machi behind him. Machi didn’t fight, and instead let Klavier hold him.

“I know the story of a man who gets his heart back because it’s Christmas,” said Klavier. “Kristoph always said it was a silly story, so it wasn’t really tolerated in our household.”

“It’s about more than that,” said Machi, playing with Klavier’s fingers. “It’s about a man’s ability to look forward and embrace his blessings, rather than destroying everything around him for the past.”

“An uplifting if unlikely story,” Klavier slurred sleepily.

“It’s more likely than it seems, don’t you think?” Machi lifted Klavier’s hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.

Klavier said nothing. He was asleep.


End Notes
*The scene with the party / Machi cutting Klavier's hair was one I'd been working towards since I began the story.
*Jean Paul was spur-of-the-moment and I forgot there was already a French Jean in AA. I just wanted someone who seemed to be a little bit similar to Klavier, though more of a jerk.
*LOL Trucy and Thalassa are fag hags. Trucy obviously just needs to find her happy couple of men who want her in the equation too.