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Apollo was sleeping by his side, practically a dead weight on Klavier’s arm, and he wondered how a man with so many worries could sleep so deeply.
The night had come with no ceremony, and the sun had long slipped away backstage. The clock on the bedside table read four twenty-seven am. Klavier had been lured to bed at midnight with Apollo’s sweet kisses and the promise of more, if he was good. They will both be due a busy and fretful morning when the sun returns, of complicated cases and investigation and morons all thinking they knew best; they must wake at six- thirty am, as usual. Klavier had not had a moments rest all night.
He stared up at the ceiling with heavy eyes he couldn’t bear to close. He took comfort in his lover’s presence, almost silent with only his gentle warmth and softs breaths to serve as an indication that he was right here with him. Klavier listened, intently. He wanted to kiss him awake for company, for comfort, but no doubt Apollo needed the rest. Klavier himself needed it, but it was out of his grasp- tantalizingly close, if he just reached out a little further-
It eluded him.
Klavier sighed in the silence, and turned his head. The window was open a crack despite the icy touch of winter, the curtains parted, and the moonlight bathed the bedroom. Klavier had spent the night at Apollo’s. They spent more and more time together as the days slipped by, as their one year anniversary approached, and Klavier saw more of Apollo’s narrow bed than he did his own. There was a copy of Klavier’s apartment key tied with red and purple ribbon burning a hole where it was hidden away deep in his cupboards. It had been there for weeks- lonely, but never forgotten. Klavier had tried to present it to his lover more times than he could count, but each time his hands went disgustingly clammy and his tongue felt too big in his throat.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want Apollo or wasn’t sure about him- he had never been more sure of something in his life. He longed for the sickening domesticity and to see his face each bright new morning, given new life because of his presence, but he didn’t want him to know, to see. He had already asked about Klavier’s unkempt appearance and the deep rings underneath his eyes. Klavier had lied to the brightest spark in his life and given the excuse of recent workloads, and Apollo’s eyes had softened. He had cupped his face and tried his best to kiss the weariness away.
Klavier had managed two hours of sleep that night, before the nightmares forced him awake.
Apollo snuffled in his sleep, squirming against his side, and Klavier lightly smoothed down his hair to soothe him. He settled down immediately, and Klavier smiled. His eyes were heavy and the smile was hard to summon, let alone uphold, but he would do anything for Apollo.
He turned his head back, and the clock now read four twenty-nine am in garish red letters, glaring in the darkness. Time trickled by like water from a leaf. Klavier could hear nothing but breath, and the constant echo of laughter. His brother’s laughter. It had been the same way for months now.
He covered his face with his hand, one arm claimed by Apollo. He covered his eyes and willed himself to sleep, please, just for one night, let me have this. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s rest without slipping in and out of the dreams that plagued him with faces etched into his closed eyelids. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt well rested and content.
Klavier had tried everything to be exhausted enough to sleep- he had tried thinking of mind-numbingly boring things, going to the gym before coming home, having all kinds of athletic sex with Apollo, hard drinking before bed. He tried to focus on the pliant mattress beneath him, the warmth of the duvet, the softness of the pillow- and none of it worked.
He knew he couldn’t let it continue. He was becoming useless and irritable at work, lost in daydreams and tiny naps, and he remembered he needed to apologise to the Fraulien Detective with Snackoos and soft words for his behaviour. Yet another thing he needed to do, with an already overbearing schedule.
He exhaled heavily, and then made the decision he made most nights- to get up. His chest always felt constrictive, like every breath he took wasn’t quite enough, and his skin tingled, crawling. Sometimes, Apollo’s heat was stifling, and Klavier decided to pull away.
He sat up just a little and leaned over. He let his fingers slide over the soft skin of Apollo’s shoulder, like warm velvet, before he pushed him back just a little to release his other arm. He slid it free, and Apollo frowned deeply in his sleep but didn’t protest. Klavier shifted away and swung his legs out, and as he did Apollo stretched, sprawling out and claiming what was once Klavier’s, attracted to the warmth he left behind. Klavier smiled at that, and ducked forward, pressing a dry kiss to his forehead out of habit.
The warmth he felt under his chapped lips helped convince him that this was real- this wasn’t some kind of sleep deprived hallucination from his mind playing tricks, or one of his dreams.
He moved away and out of Apollo’s bedroom, wandering out to the living room. It was a slight mess, with jackets thrown over the back of the sofa and last night’s takeaway cartons left on the table, but it was nothing that couldn’t be dealt with later. He walked past it all, uncaringly and headed straight for the kitchen. He had found himself here many nights before.
He made himself a coffee, the process mechanical. It was well practised. Klavier quickly found himself perched at the kitchen counter, hands drawn around the mug, sapping its heat. He knew how he had gotten there, but he couldn’t quite remember it. That didn’t bother him, not as much as it used to. The steam rose from his mug, and he gazed at it, eyes just a little unfocused.
He thought of what was never far from his mind- those trials, the one that ripped the world out from underneath him. His closest friend with the bloodied hands, and his brother with the darkest soul and perfect nails. The thought of them made him shudder, but he kidded himself it was just the cold of the apartment through his thin sleep shirt.
The Misham trial was months ago, the incident at the concert even further away, but they were still at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t shake them- they clung to him, digging their claws in.
The first time he had been woken by the sound of his brother’s horrific laughter, he had naively assumed it was a one off. He was ashamed to know that he had cried- not many tears, but too many that Kristoph deserved to have shed for him. He had toyed with the idea of waking Apollo, but it was shame that kept him from company- he didn’t want him to see him like this, so weak, so pathetic.
He spent the night in the kitchen alone, until the sun came up and he could hear Apollo’s alarm, shrill and deafening from his room. He thought it would not happen again. He was wrong.
It kept happening, with alarming regularity, until almost every night he was waking with a choked cry.
A couple of times, if Apollo had awoken while he was in the kitchen, Klavier would hear the sound of bare feet pattering against the tile before feeling arms snake around him, holding him firmly. “What are you doing?” He would ask, his voice slurred just a little with sleep. It took him a good few minutes to understand his surroundings when he had only just woken up, his eyes always hazy with sleep. Klavier would reach up and touch his cheek in greeting and reply, “Just wanted a drink, baby. Go back to sleep.”
Apollo never questioned it in his state, not even the coffee, and Klavier was grateful. He wouldn’t go back to bed, though. He would take his place next to Klavier and lean against him, closing his eyes, and would wait for Klavier to feel ‘sleepy’ enough to take him back and wrap himself around him. In actual fact, it was guilt that gnawed at the prosecutor that his problems were keeping his lover up.
He would eventually fall asleep, no doubt. Then he would see the faces again, hear the missed note, feel the wood burning underneath his hands, see the comatose face of the deathly pale girl. He would feel his brother’s hands, curling tightly around his wrists, nails digging in. Then he would start awake suddenly, his heart in his throat, his forehead slick with sweat.
The third time, it was a little different. Klavier had clung to him, hands and mouth desperate. “Fuck me,” He had begged and Apollo had only been too happy to comply and try to soothe him with kisses. Apollo fucked him good and hard into the mattress until he was babbling uselessly, jumping between languages- and still it wasn’t enough to save him from the dreams. The darkness reached into his heart like tendrils of ink and ice.
The coffee was strong and bitter, and it was one of the only things anchoring him, keeping him sane. The other slept soundlessly in the bedroom, completely unaware. He closed his eyes, and focused, as well as he could. The seat underneath him was firm, hard. The air was cold, and goose bumps appeared on his bare arms. The taste of coffee lingered on his tongue. This was real. Klavier was here. He could focus.
His head was pounding. His heartbeat was slow. He felt ill.
He wanted to smash the cup against the wall, to scream and to shout and to demand why, why was this happening, what had he done, but he was too weary for even that. Instead he sat, head bowed, and waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. Time marched on.
He didn’t know how long he sat there alone in silence for, but between two sips, his coffee went from lukewarm to stone cold. He pulled a disgusted face, spitting the liquid back out with no grace at all. Dropping the mug carelessly on the counter, he huffed out a sigh. His eyes were burning, and there was a headache beginning to pulse in his skull. Such was life, it seemed.
He ignored it as best he could and stretched, letting his bones pop and click back into place. His body protested, but he forced it into submission. There were no clocks in the kitchen, and so he stepped back into the living room and looked to the windows, half expecting it to still be pitch black with no time passed at all.
It wasn’t so. He could see light, now, and he took a few steps further to peer outside over at the slumbering city. He could see how the sky had changed and lightened from a dark velvet to a much softer blue. The lights of the modern world were winking out one by one in preparation for the sun, and he gazed out with an unreadable expression. He had sat there for well over an hour, it seemed, and the time had blurred together until it was nothing to him.
Klavier entered the bedroom quietly, and Apollo was still curled up in the sheets, his legs tangled up and his arms wrapped around Klavier’s pillow. The sight made his heart ache in the best and worst of ways.
He looked to the clock. It read six twenty-one in numbers that mocked him.
Klavier took his seat on the bed, appreciating its softness and wishing he could curl up and rest or curl up and die, he didn’t much care. He felt a little woozy, and he knew he would be nodding off at his desk, not enough to dream but just enough for him to fuel himself for an extra hour or so. He wondered if he was ever going to sleep well again, be free from the grasp of the missing, and he found himself jealous of the peace of Apollo’s expression.
Klavier leant over, keeping himself propped up and pressed his lips to Apollo’s shoulder. The man didn’t even twitch, and he didn’t make a sound. Klavier kissed a light path all the way across his shoulder, up his throat, across his chin. He could feel the slow, thrumming pulse against his lips.
When Klavier nipped lightly at his chin, catching the skin between his teeth, Apollo stirred. It was only a matter of waiting until he groaned, lightly, shifting within the sheets. His eyes settled on Klavier, unfocused, and he was vaguely self-aware enough to smile. “Hi.” He said, and he cleared his throat after it croaked a little.
“Good morning, schatzi.” He greeted, with a returning grin, like nothing was wrong. “Time to face the day, ja?”