Chapter Text
“Does he think he’s cool or something?”
It had been five minutes since the sound of a strummed guitar had started to drift up from the quad below. Apollo raised his head from his homework, glaring out the window above his desk, not bothering to crane his neck so he could actually see the musician—he knew who it was, anyway.
Clay, on the other side of the room, didn’t look up from his computer screen. “He’s surrounded by a crowd of girls, so, probably,” he replied. He paused, typed a couple words, backspaced nearly as many—he was working on an essay, Apollo guessed—before correcting himself: “Sorry, fräuleins.”
Apollo scoffed. It had been like this for nearly a month since the semester started—late afternoon rolled around, and Klavier Gavin installed himself on the picnic bench in the quad formed by three student dorms and took up his guitar to serenade whoever might be passing by. He usually attracted a small crowd as classes wound down for the day and students made their way back to their rooms and the dining hall, and his appearance had become so consistent that Apollo could nearly forecast it when he checked the weather in the morning—sunny, 70 degrees, 100% chance of Gavin.
Klavier’s chosen stage was positioned directly below the window of Apollo and Clay’s second-story room, so the distraction from his homework was at the top of Apollo’s list of grievances, but Clay had also been told of such crimes as “egotistical jewelry,” “improbable hair,” and “a weird obsession with Germany.” At the time, Clay had pointed out that it was a bit hypocritical for Apollo to accuse anyone of improbable hair, given the amount of styling gel he used daily, but Apollo hadn’t relented.
“Look at it,” he’d hissed, gesturing towards their windows. “You could kill someone with that hair.”
Now, he resolutely set his gaze back to his computer and jabbed bitterly at his trackpad to open a fifteenth tab in his web browser.
“We have a test next week,” he grumbled. “And a paper due right after that. When does he work?”
“Why don’t you go ask him?” Clay suggested. “Some of his groupies are guys—you wouldn’t be alone.”
Apollo shot him a glare and Clay laughed. “Honestly, though. Didn’t you say he’s doing well in that class? Maybe he’s cheating…”
“He’s not cheating,” Apollo admitted resentfully. “He’s just a genius.”
At first, Apollo had wondered about Klavier’s ability to clearly excel in Preston Dent’s notoriously challenging class while simultaneously appearing to do little to no work at all, but he had since dismissed those suspicions. Cheating on tests and homework would be one thing—responding to Dent’s in-class questions was another. And it wasn’t as if he flaunted it, either; he was an active participant in class without being a know-it-all, and he was overwhelmingly gracious when answering questions that left everyone else at a loss.
Not that his academic prowess was a shock to anyone; Klavier Gavin had practically grown up with the law, with his famous older brother and his diploma from Themis Law Academy. It made sense that he wouldn’t have any trouble in a class full of beginners.
Apollo knew all this, but it was so at odds with the guy’s personality that he had a hard time processing it. Klavier practically glittered with jewelry wherever he went. His otherwise impeccable arguments in class were peppered with foreign turns of phrase and weighted with a touch of affected accent, and he spent hours of study time perched on the picnic table instead, plucking at his guitar. Then there was the band, which was named after him and which was, against all odds, actually popular. All of Ivy knew who Klavier Gavin was.
It was frustrating, to say the least. Here Apollo was, working his butt off to keep Dent’s class from sinking his GPA, and Klavier just seemed to breeze through it all effortlessly, with a swish of his platinum bangs and a flash of that blinding grin.
In a valiant attempt to let go of his irritation, Apollo exhaled heavily and dragged his attention back to the stacks of papers flanking his laptop—which reminded him why he had lost focus long enough to be distracted by Klavier’s guitar in the first place.
“Clay?” he ventured.
“Yeah?”
“Do you wanna go to the library for me?”
“Are you being serious right now?” Clay did look up from his screen now, to fix Apollo with a blank stare. “You really don’t want to walk across the quad just because he’s down there?”
Apollo grumbled an unintelligible response and hauled himself to his feet. “Yeah, fine.”
He knew it was ridiculous to let Klavier irritate him so much. Aside from his long list of complaints, Apollo couldn’t really explain why the guy rubbed him the wrong way. There was some jealousy there, Apollo supposed as he trudged down the cement stairs—if he’d had the opportunities Klavier had, he certainly wouldn’t be wasting his time strumming out acoustic covers of his own music and flirting with everyone who walked within earshot.
Or maybe he would be, if he looked like Klavier. But that was beside the point.
Either way, he had a few more books to dig out of the stacks to add to his bibliography, and he wasn’t going to let an impromptu concert in the quad prevent him from working on his research paper.
A paper that Klavier should also be working on, Apollo reflected darkly as he emerged from the building and started across the quad, deliberately choosing the route furthest from the group of girls—and guys, Clay wasn’t wrong—surrounding Klavier’s picnic table.
When Apollo got halfway across the quad, the singing and strumming abruptly stopped.
Apollo almost looked, curious despite himself, but he stopped himself and kept walking. Figures that he decides he’s done as soon as I’m leaving.
He was almost to the gap between the two dorms that would funnel him towards the main academic quad when—
“Apollo!”
This time, he couldn’t prevent himself from turning instinctively towards the voice that had called his name, even if, while he did so, he was recognizing it as the same one that had stopped singing just moments before.
Klavier had hopped up from the picnic table, swinging his guitar around on its strap to rest it against his back, and he was striding across the grass in Apollo’s direction. His audience was peering after him curiously.
Is there another Apollo here?
But Klavier’s bright blue eyes were fixed on him, so Apollo had no choice but to wait until he approached, eyeing him warily the whole time.
“Yeah?” he asked when Klavier was within speaking distance. Immediately, he regretted not taking a couple steps back to stand on the concrete sidewalk edging the lawn—he had to look up slightly to meet Klavier’s eyes.
Klavier, meanwhile, was smiling that obnoxious little grin of his, the one that made it look like he thought of you like a dear friend, like he was intensely curious about what you had to say. Apollo had once briefly considered the possibility that Klavier actually did care about what everyone had to say, but he wasn’t in the mood now for giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“I was going to email you, but this is better,” Klavier began, hooking a thumb through the belt loop of his absurdly skinny jeans. “I have, ah, something of a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” Apollo echoed, not bothering to moderate the doubt in his voice.
Klavier’s gaze flickered, just a little, and Apollo almost felt bad about it. Almost.
“Ah, ja,” Klavier went on. “I suppose I should get right to the point. I was wondering if you would be interested in starting a pre-law society with me.”
Apollo, who had been busy irritably pondering the little G-shaped pendant hanging from a thin chain around Klavier’s neck, blinked and snapped his eyes back to Klavier’s face. “A what?”
Klavier shifted his weight. “A pre-law society. A club for students planning to go to law school after Ivy.”
Apollo gaped at him for a moment—to the point where Klavier was starting to look a bit concerned—before finally asking, “You want my help?”
A small crease appeared between Klavier’s brows. “You are planning to go to law school, ja?” Apollo nodded. “And you seem very passionate about it. Law, that is. Am I wrong?”
“Uh…no.” He thinks I’m passionate? Apollo shook himself slightly and let his eyebrows crunch back into a skeptical scowl. “But…”
“I was just hoping we could talk about it,” Klavier cut in, before Apollo could pick a question to ask. “If you’re at all interested.”
“I…” He was interested, he totally was. Now that the idea was sinking in, Apollo was honestly surprised that he hadn’t noticed before that Ivy was lacking exactly what Klavier was suggesting. Academically, Ivy’s pre-law program was solid, but that didn’t mean there weren’t gaps to address. Networking, LSAT prep, internship resources…Apollo’s mind was spinning through the potential benefits before he could stop himself.
It was just…
His eye caught on the guitar sticking out from behind Klavier’s back, and he glanced past him, to his abandoned audience.
Starting a club…with Klavier Gavin?
He imagined Clay kicking him for turning down such an opportunity just because the person suggesting it played the guitar and wore too many rings, and he chewed on his lip.
“Um,” he said finally, and Klavier’s face, which had started to fall slightly, snapped back to attention. “…can I think about it? It’s just, I have a lot on my plate, and…”
Klavier was already nodding. “Of course,” he said easily. “I can’t say it won’t be a time commitment, especially starting off. That’s why I can’t do it alone, ja?”
The touch of an accent on that last syllable almost changed Apollo’s mind, but he steeled himself against the impulse. “Okay,” he said instead. “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”
Klavier’s ensuing smile was…Apollo didn’t want to think dazzling, but he squinted a little as the sunny afternoon seemed to brighten another shade.
“Take your time,” Klavier urged. “And I’m sorry for ambushing you,” he added. “I’ll see you in class?”
“Uh, yeah. See ya.”
Klavier’s expression flashed bright again, and with a wave, he turned around and loped back across the quad to his waiting fans. Apollo could faintly hear him apologizing.
Apollo stayed where he was a moment longer, until a buzz from his phone shocked him out of his thoughts.
Clay [5:02 pm]: dude what did klavier want????
I’ll tell you later, Apollo typed back quickly, then tucked his phone away and started on his way to the library, leaving the sound of guitar chords behind him. He was out of earshot before Klavier started singing again.
~~~~~
Dear Klavier-
Apollo frowned and deleted the “dear.”
Hello Klavier-
Also weirdly formal. He was just another student, there was no reason for this to be so hard. He pressed a finger to his forehead and sighed.
Yesterday, Clay had reacted predictably to the news, forcing Apollo to confront that a club like this, no matter who wanted to start it, was exactly what he wanted to see on campus. Apollo had pointed out that he could just join the club after Klavier started it with someone else, but he knew even without Clay’s skeptical raised eyebrows that if he was going to be a part of this, it wasn’t just going to be as a member. Klavier was right, somehow: Apollo was passionate about law, and a leadership position in something like this wouldn’t just help him in the future, it would be something he would enjoy. And he liked to think he would do a good job, too.
Klavier-
I’m really interested in your idea, and I was wondering what kinds of ideas you—
That had “idea” twice.
I’m really interested in your idea. Maybe we could meet to discuss what you had in mind?
-Apollo
Good enough. Apollo glanced over the message three more times, then clicked send.
He leaned back in his chair and noticed the sound of a strummed guitar just in time to hear it break off.
Apollo, halfway to opening a homework assignment, paused. He hadn’t even noticed Klavier playing, which as far as he could remember was unprecedented for him—the sound always had a way of drilling straight through whatever he was trying to focus on. Pushing back his desk chair, he nudged the blinds apart with one finger to better see the grassy area below.
Sure enough, Klavier Gavin was perched on a picnic table, alone for once. His guitar rested in his lap, ignored for the moment as he read something on his phone. Apollo realized belatedly that it might be his email, and, suddenly self-conscious, started to withdraw from the window when something stopped him.
Klavier was smiling at his phone, but it was a different smile than Apollo was used to. It wasn’t the flashy grin, or that indulgent smirk—this was softer, the barest curve of lips that was somehow more sincere than any expression Apollo had ever seen on him. It a secret sort of smile, shared between Klavier and whatever he was reading on his phone.
Definitely not my email, then, Apollo reflected, stepping back from the window and feeling faintly like he had just intruded on something.
Then his computer dinged with a new message alert, and the guitar playing in the quad resumed.