Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/2189904. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 逆転裁判_|_Gyakuten_Saiban_|_Ace_Attorney Relationship: Garyuu_Kirihito/Garyuu_Kyouya_|_Klavier_Gavin/Kristoph_Gavin Character: Garyuu_Kirihito_|_Kristoph_Gavin, Garyuu_Kyouya_|_Klavier_Gavin, Original Female_Character(s), Original_Male_Character(s) Additional Tags: Phoenix_Wright_Kink_Meme, Incest, Sibling_Incest, Brother/Brother_Incest, Molestation, Extremely_Underage, Shota, Sexual_Abuse, Childhood_Sexual Abuse, Statutory_Rape, What_Have_I_Done, Rape_Aftermath, Rape_Recovery, Graphic_Description, Triggers Series: Part 5 of Phoenix_Wright_"Family_Relations" Stats: Published: 2014-08-24 Updated: 2014-09-12 Chapters: 2/? Words: 9457 ****** Mein Bruderherz ****** by jen0va99 Summary PWKM fill & fill's sequel from when underage was allowed. At age 14, Kristoph finds himself struggling with a growing infatuation with his baby brother. Soon comes the night the dam bows and shatters, and an event that deeply affects them both. Incest, disturbing and graphic imagery of child molestation, rape and aftermath lies ahead. ***** Mein Brüderlein ***** Chapter Notes Prompt: Six year old Klavier gets molested by his older brother. Kristoph impresses on him that Klavier needs to do this for him or he'll be a bad boy, something the small child would never want. Please? ===================================================================== Heavily edited to add more content, fix errors I caught, help flow, et cetera. Original A/N: Beware of plot. Getting into young!Kristoph’s mind was a little more tempting than I originally thought. Anyway, this is SUPER SHOTA/BORDERLINE TODDLERCON. Klavier’s 6, Kristoph’s 14, and it’s definitely not consensual or remotely legal. I can’t believe I even wrote this… Although it’s not really game canon, I have them growing up in Germany so everything they’re saying is in Deutsch. I also apologize for the use of the language…orz. Also I see Kristoph bringing himself up to be terribly proper; I mean, come on, his speech is so eloquent, I can’t imagine him being anything other than that, even when he was young. Now that I’m done here and have sufficiently squicked myself out, Imma be on mah porch, waitin’ to be v&. See the end of the chapter for more notes “Engelchen! Kristoph!” Klavier, ever the bundle of energy, dashed into the front entrance of the family home. His parents were there, waiting, coats on and ready to leave for the opera house, ready to see the newest rendition of Die Entführung aus dem Serail.Both parents, his mother especially, adored any and all works of Mozart. Though she’d openly stated her concerns about the troupe performing it, it was clear from her tone that she was nonetheless excited for their version. “Klavier, mind yourself!” came a voice trailing behind the boy; young but strong, starting to deepen now with the beginnings of puberty. “Kristoph, he’s still a child,” admonished their father as Klavier leapt into his mother’s open arms. “You were like that too, once.” Kristoph, older than his spitfire brother by eight years, gave a ‘hmph’ and situated himself next to the man. “You indulge him, Vater. You and Mutter both.” “Ach, Kristoph, such words at your age. You’re too young to act so grown up!” his mother said. Amelie kissed Klavier lightly on the cheek, making sure not to smudge her lipstick. “Isn’t he, Engelchen?” “Ja, Mutti!” She turned to Kristoph and chuckled lightly. “You see? Even your brother agrees, and he’s only six!” Kristoph pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, showing his mother obvious disdain. “He agrees because he’s six. Klavier does anything to please Mutti.” “And Vati, I hope,” their father chimed in as he put an arm around his wife. “Do you love me as much as Mutti, Klavier?” “Ja, Vati!” “You’ll turn him into a parrot,” Kristoph muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m not a bird, Bruder!” Their parents both laughed lightly, simultaneously kissing Klavier on either cheek. “Nein, not a bird,” Amelie said as she set Klavier back onto his own two feet, “an angel is what you are.” Kristoph’s frown deepened. “Both creatures have wings. If you aren’t careful with your words, they will be clipped and Klavier will never fly free.” His father sighed heavily, shaking his head. Konrad knew something like this was bound to happen, as he and his wife decided to try for Klavier when Kristoph was older; he had been an only child until then, and now that Kristoph was growing up, he was beginning to let his jealousy shine through in full force. It was as if the boy always had something negative to say about the way they raised Klavier, despite having raised Kristoph much the same, and he had turned out more than independent. Yet Klavier was much different than his older brother; Kristoph was never so receptive to the affection they gave him, and once he grew older, Kristoph seemed to build a shell around himself, refusing to allow them any indulgences, grew less and less fond of their kindness, always declined an offer of toys or sweets. In school Kristoph had no friends and seemingly had no want for them. His teachers had only the highest of praise for him academically, going so far as to call him a genius, but all showed concern about Kristoph’s avoidance of his peers. The Gavins had no idea what to do for him. He never seemed happy no matter what they tried. Even gifts of books rarely brought a smile—a genuine smile—to his face. Because of it, they worried when they left him in charge of little Klavier, constantly filled with worry that their Engel was not going to receive the care and attention he needed, but Kristoph, despite his age, was nothing if not responsible. Amelie affectionately ruffled Klavier’s light blond locks. “Engelchen, you know Mutti and Vati are going to the opera tonight, ja?” Klavier nodded. “Kristoph will watch you while we’re gone. You be a good boy and do as he says.” She straightened and turned to Kristoph. “Remember, he needs his bath around 7, and must be in bed by 8:30 at the latest. No excuses; I know how he’s able to wheedle himself out of these things.” “Yes, Mutter.” Klavier clasped Kristoph’s hand as their mother bent to hug and kiss them. Konrad clapped his boys fondly on the shoulders. “Be good, you two,” he said, steering his wife out the door. “We will, Vati!” Klavier exclaimed. “Bye-bye!” With one last wave at the boys, the elder Gavins left. Immediately after they were gone, Kristoph turned to Klavier and smiled. Suddenly he tapped his brother in the arm and dashed off into the manor. “You’re it!” Klavier shrieked, giddy, and gave chase. In truth, Kristoph wasn’t jealous of his brother at all. Quite the opposite; he loved Klavier from the bottom of his heart, so much so that he felt almost possessive of the boy. Having Klavier around made him happy—which is why he simply couldn’t agree with the indulgent way in which their parents treated him. Kristoph didn’t like seeing Klavier so clingy, so needlessly dependent on the approval and attention from whomever would give it to him. He should not be raised in a manner where he lived to please. Although he felt that way, hating the neediness, when their parents were around, Kristoph knew his younger brother had no need for him. It hurt, the knowledge that Klavier was just fine with or without Kristoph’s attention, and his conflicting thoughts and feelings caused Kristoph no end of confusion. No. What confused him was Klavier. Precious, adorable little Klavier. “Caught you!” Klavier yelled victoriously, clasping with both arms onto his older brother’s thigh. Kristoph swallowed thickly. “So you did… You’re getting faster. Do you play a lot with the other children in school?” The little blond nodded, looking up at his brother with big blue eyes. “I’m lots faster than the others. ‘Cause I run with you, Bruder.” Kristoph’s breath hitched at the sight of those eyes. Gently he pried his brother’s grip from his leg and held the boy at arm’s length. “Do you like those children?” “Ja! They’re all nice. The girls are the nicest,” he replied with a large smile on his face. Klavier had yet to lose his milk teeth, and in his mouth they were white and sharp, unevenly spaced, but the small awkwardness only added to his charm. The older boy bit his lip. For his brother to discover girls now… no, that would not do. Klavier was too young, far, far too young. “Do you like them more than me?” Kristoph asked. His fingers curled reflexively. He regretted the question immediately as it came forward—who was the needy one, now? Confused, Klavier said, “You’re my brother!” “That’s not what I asked,” Kristoph said, voice curt. “N-nein.” The blond winced in pain, shoulders bunching up in an attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “Bruder, you’re hurting me…” “I…” Kristoph took a step back, glancing down at his clawed hands. He softened, willed his fingers to unfurl. He was on edge, and he didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Klavier. Go and play in your room until I call you for your bath, alright?” “Bruder, are you mad at me?” “Go to your room!” Kristoph barked, making Klavier jump. “But—” “Mutter told you to do as I say, so be a good boy and do as I say!” More than a touch bewildered, Klavier stomped away indignantly, fists balled up tight, insulting Kristoph in a now-sodden voice. Once his brother was out of view, Kristoph slumped to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. He was angry, at Klavier and at himself. There it was again: that jealousy. Klavier was not thinking of him. Klavier was enjoying himself without him. Klavier was playing with those damned children in his school, getting chummy with the rowdy young boys and interacting with the cute little girls… Kristoph reminded himself that Klavier was only six. Only six years old, there was nothing to worry about; he didn’t have to worry that one of them would steal his brother away, not just yet. Not for years. For now, Klavier was still his. Before he knew it, the half-hour chimed on the large, antique grandfather clock adorning their living room wall. Kristoph glanced at the clock face. Seven o’clock on the nose. Time for Klavier’s bath. Kristoph got up slowly, wincing at the pins and needles feeling in his legs. How long had he been sitting on the floor, brooding? He hated that he wasted precious time acting like a sullen teenager. It was time he could have spent studying up on English or his double and triple stops. He walked into the bathroom, flicked the light on, and turned the knobs to adjust the water’s temperature. Like Kristoph, Klavier loved his baths scorching hot, something their parents never allowed him for worries about his health. Kristoph indulged him, if only once in a while. After putting the stopper in the drain of the claw-footed tub, Kristoph made his way to Klavier’s bedroom. The door was shut. Kristoph knocked softly. “Klavier?” When there was no answer—something Kristoph fully expected, as his brother hated being sent to his room, and always, always gave whomever sent him there the silent treatment while inside—Kristoph turned the knob and peeked in. Klavier sat on the floor amidst stray sheets of paper he’d started to draw on before discarding them, an entire box of crayons overturned and scattered in front of him. “I like this one,” Kristoph said absently, crouching next to a scribble of a sharp-looking ‘G’—or a ‘6’?—done up in red crayon. Klavier kept on drawing. “It’s time for your bath.” “I don’t need one.” “Yes you do,” Kristoph replied, “you stink. The girls in your school won’t like you if you smell.” When Klavier looked up at him with wide eyes, the older boy smiled disarmingly even as he wished Klavier had just ignored the statement. “Okay.” Once in the bathroom Klavier began to take his clothes off without a shred of modesty. He didn’t notice Kristoph watching him, taking in the scrawny arms and knobby knees, the soft torso of a child his age. Kristoph swallowed and distracted himself with the dials, turning them off. Kristoph’s eyeglasses fogged up as he helped Klavier into the tub. He wiped away the condensation futilely; it returned seconds later. They both chuckled, Klavier at Kristoph and Kristoph at Klavier for growing amused at something so simple, when he removed his spectacles and set on the rim of the sink. “I can barely see,” Kristoph muttered, blinking as his vision blurred over. He leaned back and relied on muscle memory to unbutton his shirt. He heard Klavier make little splashes in the water before dunking his head below the surface. When he came back up Kristoph was stripped down to his briefs. “Are we bathing together, Bruder?” “There’s no helping it,” he replied, shedding the last of his clothing. “I’m nearly blind without my glasses, you know that.” Kristoph reddened as he realized Klavier had started to stare at his crotch. “Wh-what are you doing that for!?” “There’s hair?” He pushed Klavier’s hands away when the boy reached out to touch it. “I… yes. You know we grow hair there, Dummkopf! You’ve seen Vater naked before!” Kristoph’s voice had gone up an octave, embarrassed. “Move aside, now, let me in.” Water sloshed as Klavier slid over, allowing his brother room to step in. “Bruder’s growing up,” the younger boy sing-songed, splashing Kristoph as he settled. “Stop that this instant, Klavier.” Klavier stopped obediently, but the smile stayed on his face. He nearly glowed as if he believed a sparse crop of pubic hair was Kristoph’s biggest secret. “Come sit between my legs so I can wash you properly. I can’t see you, sitting so far away.” The boy turned and scooted back, humming some nameless tune. Kristoph jerked when Klavier’s backside accidentally bumped into his penis. “N-not that close.” Although the damage was already done… Kristoph could feel his cock tingling from the contact, however brief. He bit his lip to keep his composure. Klavier grabbed the light shampoo and began pouring far too much on his head; Kristoph snatched it away. “No fooling around. Once we’re done in here you can have a small snack and then it’s off to bed with you.” The younger boy splashed absentmindedly as Kristoph worked the shampoo into a lather. Guilt and dread grew heavy like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Now, sitting in the tub with his brother, his innocent slip of a brother, the mere act of washing Klavier’s hair was starting to give Kristoph an unbidden erection. Quick as possible was all he could think. He had to finish as quickly as possible. “Dunk.” Klavier went under the water, shaking his head madly as Kristoph worked the suds from the mess of golden hair, rendered softer than usual from children’s shampoo. Beneath it all, he was thinking thoughts, thoughts he shouldn’t be having, thoughts about his brother, so young and soft… Mein Gott, how could he even allow himself to think about Klavier in that way…? Once he resurfaced, Klavier took the bar of soap and handed it to Kristoph, in that close to but not quite demanding way of his. Kristoph looked dumbly at it. “Can’t you wash yourself, Klavier?” “Mutti says I miss too many spots.” His cock gave a painful throb. “I have to disagree. You’re old enough to handle it on your own.” “Mutti says!” Klavier insisted, glaring at Kristoph over his shoulder. “I’m getting cold, Bruder, hurry up!” Kristoph was fully prepared to shout at Klavier again, but instead gritted his teeth and worked the soap into a thick lather and handed it back to his younger brother. He couldn’t even see the soap dish. It was just part of being a big brother; he was being a responsible caretaker, helping Klavier bathe. That was it. Hesitantly Kristoph placed his hands on Klavier’s slight shoulders, worked down his arms and underneath his armpits. Klavier’s skin was so smooth… Kristoph couldn’t help himself. His mind was racing, thinking about Klavier. His sweet Klavier… Klavier squirmed as Kristoph reached around him, soaping up his chest, fingers brushing over his small nipples for longer than necessary. “Bruder…?” Kristoph leaned forward, chest pressed flush against Klavier’s back as his hands dipped beneath the water, down Klavier’s little belly, down past his bellybutton… “Klavier,” Kristoph whispered, reaching even lower, palming his brother’s sex. “Klavier, Klavier…” Klavier squirmed as he was fondled. Kristoph was scaring him, he knew must have been, but— “Bruder, why are—” “It’s alright, Klavier.” Kristoph used his left hand to splash soap suds off his brother’s body. “See? We’re just having a bath, like Mutti and Vati said.” “Stop…” He fingered the foreskin covering the head of Klavier’s penis and groaned. Kristoph’s mind raced, chastising and encouraging him all at once. At the base of it all was the simple thought that this was wrong, this was his brother, his innocent little brother whom he’d been entrusted, his defenseless, precious and sweet little brother… “Please, Bruder…!” “Be a good boy, Klavier. Mutti told you to listen to me, right?” “Ja, but… I…” Klavier’s voice was teary and sodden. “You’re scaring me…” Kristoph shushed him. He held Klavier to his chest, his own hardness pulsing against his brother’s thigh as he leaned them both forward. He played at Klavier’s tight scrotum, fingers rubbing along behind them, stroking gently. Kristoph felt horrible, his stomach churning as he felt Klavier’s small body wrack helplessly with sobs, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, wanted to stop, what was he doing? He pressed his hips forward, sliding his cock against Klavier’s baby-soft skin. Kristoph felt so faraway from himself, wasn’t aware that he’d been murmuring to Klavier, telling the boy that it was alright, just be a good boy, mother said he was in charge and Klavier had to listen to him. Klavier still sobbed, that much Kristoph heard. Still he nudged Klavier’s thighs apart and reached ever forward until he’d parted his brother’s soft buttocks, the pad of one finger rubbing the puckered flesh of his anus. “Nein, Bruder, nein, nein! I don’t like it!” “You aren’t behaving, Klavier.” Kristoph hardly recognized his own voice. It sounded vicious yet authoritative, thick with arousal and guilt and horror. “Do you want Vati to give you a spanking?” Klavier shook his head so hard droplets of water splashed Kristoph in the face. “Good boy,” Kristoph cooed at him, trying to sooth him, knowing full well that if he just stopped Klavier would cease his protests as well. Still, Kristoph turned both of their bodies until Klavier faced the rim of the tub. He pushed his little brother up onto his knees and pressed his legs together. “Hold onto the side of the tub,” Kristoph whispered. Klavier’s hands trembled, but he finally did as he was told. Kristoph rubbed the cleft of his brother’s behind before spreading the cheeks with two fingers. Swallowing nervously, he slid his aching cock between them, choking out a sharp gasp when he drove forward, the malleable flesh of Klavier’s crotch and buttocks engulfing him. This time Klavier hadn’t bothered to refuse, opting instead to cry openly, muttering “nein, Bruder” to himself over and over again. Kristoph thrust into the tight space he’d created. It felt amazing to him, sliding between Klavier’s thighs, the head of his cock just reaching Klavier’s scrotum. He leaned over his brother, fondling him again, though this time he could also touch himself, barely. Klavier’s hair was sticking wet to the side of his face, flushed red from the heat of the bath and from the exertion of crying. He had no idea what was happening, did he? Kristoph couldn’t explain it, either, though the higher functioning part of his brain was aware of how abominable his actions were, that he had gone much too far, that he was hurting something he cherished. Kristoph pressed his hips jerkily forward, belly roiling, so close to— Oh, his sweet, little baby brother was going to make him come— Kristoph’s back arched; he pulled Klavier back against him, cock pulsing as messy release spattered the side of the tub and Klavier’s thighs. Kristoph sank into the water, clinging to his little brother. He panted harshly, sated yet oh so guilty. What had he done…? What had he done? Cum mingled with the soap suds, he was sure of it. Kristoph pulled a face and yanked up the stopper to allow the filthy water to drain. It was vile what one’s body could do. Klavier’s crying had slowed once Kristoph released his grip, but it still hadn’t stopped completely. “Klavier…” Slowly Kristoph turned his brother around. The normally sunny, angelic face was smeared with tears and snot and swollen red. His chest hitched with every breath he took. Kristoph cringed as Klavier shrank away when he tried to touch his cheek. “Klavier, listen to me.” The younger boy’s eyes were glassy, but Kristoph could see he was paying Kristoph full attention. “Mutter can’t know about this, Klavier. She may send you away if she knew. Somewhere very far away—like America.” Klavier regarded him but said nothing. “Do you understand me? Vater can’t know, either.” He pet his brother’s damp hair and said, “This would make him angry, very, very angry. You’ll be taken away.” Kristoph stood on unsteady legs and replaced his glasses once the water drained. This time he turned on the shower, fog and water be damned, and quickly rinsed himself of the dirty bathwater. He turned to his brother. There was a thick band of red around Klavier where his arm had been clamped. Kristoph hoped it wouldn’t leave a bruise. “You are very important to me, Klavier. Please…” He crouched down, carefully washing his own mess from Klavier’s skin. With a conscious effort, Kristoph kept his hands away from parts of his brother that didn’t necessarily need to be cleaned. “I promise, I will never do anything like this ever again…” Kristoph trailed off, not quite sure if he could keep that promise. But he would try—no, force himself to uphold it. After all, if he didn’t have Klavier, he had nothing. Klavier stayed silent as Kristoph went over him and then himself with a fluffy white towel. All the while he found himself repeating what he said, more than once, emphasizing that their parents mustn’t know. They must never, ever know. “I want to sleep,” Klavier said once his baby-fine hair was dry. His blank voice was painful to hear, sad eyes even harder to see. Kristoph felt guilty, so guilty. But no matter how much guilt he felt, no matter how much his mind berated him, he didn’t regret touching Klavier. He didn’t regret it. It made him realize just how much he loved his little brother. What he did regret was that the love he felt for Klavier wasn’t normal. He was young but he knew in his heart that he was in love with Klavier, in love with his own brother, and surely now Klavier hated him. It was alright. Nothing would ever come of his love anyway. Loving one’s own family was wrong on levels Kristoph couldn’t even begin to fathom. “Do you hate me?” “Nein.” Yet Klavier’s voice was so benign, empty. Kristoph led Klavier to his room to help him dress in lounge pants and a T- shirt, then went off to dress himself. Once his pajamas were on he returned to find Klavier sitting on the edge of his bed, hands in his lap. Klavier looked calmer now that he was clothed, though his eyes were still red and puffy. “Aren’t you going to bed?” Kristoph asked, frowning. “You have to tuck me in.” “Would you like me to read to you?” “Nein. Just tuck me in.” Warily Kristoph walked over to the boy, visibly relieved when Klavier didn’t flinch as he came near. Klavier settled into bed, and Kristoph drew up the covers. Despite what he had done, Klavier still smelled clean and fresh like baby powder and soft cotton. Looking down at his little brother, all cozy and tucked in, Kristoph said quietly, “I love you, Klavier.” The young boy looked up at Kristoph questioningly as he placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Bruder, English…?” Kristoph smiled. “Yes. It means, ‘Goodnight, Klavier.’” Tucking his chin farther beneath the sheets and blue eyes closing tiredly, Klavier snuggled down into his warm bed. “Hm… I love you, Bruder.” Klavier was already asleep when Kristoph’s smile grew the tiniest bit darker. Kristoph kissed the top of his head and tenderly brushed a silky blond lock from his brow. He stepped back and eyed his brother as he slept, the coverlet of the bed rising and falling with each breath Klavier took. “You really are an angel, just as Mutter says,” Kristoph murmured. “A nickname only you deserve.” Kristoph turned out the light on the bedside table, glancing once again at him before stepping from the room, leaving Klavier alone for the night. “I love you, Klavier,” the older boy repeated. “My Klavier… mein Engel.” Kristoph closed the bedroom door and headed for their small library. Reading a book would be a good way to spend the time alone while he waited for his parents to return; or perhaps he ought to play the violin for a spell… After flipping through his sheet music, he picked a composition at random. The Devil’s Trill did seem a terribly appropriate piece. Chapter End Notes A/N: No, I don't italicize ja or nein. I don't know why. Also, in my headcanon, Klavier takes after their mom while Kristoph kind of takes after their dad with his own added Kristoph-ness, hence Amelie's (mom's) "ja"/"nein"-ing. ***** Mein Bruder - Part One ***** Chapter Summary Kristoph 's possessive love for his brother has grown to the point where he must leave Germany in order to keep his promise to never touch him again. Klavier, now 16 years old, comes to America for a short time in order to study law and meet his new bandmates. Unbeknownst to Kristoph, Klavier stays with him. He is much different than Kristoph remembers. Chapter Notes Not canon compliant with Klavier studying at Themis. Forgive me, this was written in '08, waaaay before Dual Destinies was released. Prompt: Anon wants more Kristoph/Klavier However.. I want it to be a continue of [Mein Brüderlein]. What I'm hoping for? When they are older. I would think Klavier around 15 - 18... He approaches Kristoph in home or something, and basically goes about saying of the memory of this. And, dear Klavier proceeds to have his way with Kristoph... Darker!Manipulative!Klavier wanted. Original A/N: As the author, I was flattered by the prompt and therefore obligated to do it. :D Takes place 10 years later, so this round, Klavier’s 16 and Kristoph is 24, but there’s talk of the sexual abuse prior. It had been a long time since he’d last seen his beloved little brother. After what happened, Kristoph found that living in the same house with Klavier grew harder and harder to bear. Klavier had distanced himself from Kristoph—not so much that their parents could perceive it, no, Klavier never let on about how Kristoph had touched him—but Kristoph felt that gap between them widen as the days went on. He felt it to the point where it physically pained him; some days Klavier outright ignored him when their parents weren’t around. Kristoph was still in love with his little brother. It was something he would probably never get over. Ever since that night he wanted to touch Klavier, to simply hold him on his lap as he used to… but those thoughts gave way to more sinful ones, to kissing him and loving him the way adults do. He fought those desires during the day; he promised Klavier not to touch him ever again, and he did his best to uphold that. It wasn’t as if he had to try… he’d shattered Klavier’s trust in him. But even so, at night before bed, exhausted or not, Kristoph would touch himself and think of Klavier. No one but Klavier, ever. He couldn’t stand watching his Engel grow up so handsomely, so well-adjusted and popular even at such a young age. To everyone but Kristoph, Klavier was a charismatic little thing, a never-ending bundle of energy who lived to entertain. Because of this, every time Klavier brought a friend home from school, Kristoph burned with jealousy. Although he attempted to avoid confrontation, sometimes he’d make a remark, scathing, but always with that innocuous voice he’d grown into, that made his brother’s friend cry, or made Klavier cry, and their mother would send Kristoph to his room. It was just as well. At least there he had his own sanctuary where he could bury himself in his studies and ignore the giggles and happy shrieks of Klavier and his playmate. Thoughts of “it isn’t fair” rarely popped into Kristoph’s head. He was reaping what he sowed. At 16 Kristoph finally managed to coerce his parents into sending him to an elite boarding school in America; he’d decided to become a lawyer in order to try and atone for the unlawful thing he had done. He knew he was smart enough to do it; Kristoph was quick-thinking and clever, and dealing with law would allow him to use his wits to their utmost potential. Kristoph naturally didn’t tell his parents that he wanted to study law in America, not Germany, because he had to get away from Klavier. They were both growing older, and Kristoph was hard pressed to keep his still-budding hormones under control when Klavier was left under his charge. He never returned to Germany once he entered school. Not for holidays, not for vacations; he couldn’t. The homesickness was killing him—no, it wasn’t the separation from Klavier, he merely missed home, Klavier had very little to do with it, or so he convinced himself—but he couldn’t go back. He didn’t want to risk going back. Kristoph’s parents sent him photographs with his birthday card every year; he saw how progressively attractive Klavier was getting. Kristoph often wondered if Klavier was still a virgin, if he was dating the way teenagers did, how he had adjusted growing up without his big brother there. He wondered if Klavier still remembered what happened. Sometimes Kristoph thought about it, how his brother felt in his hands, body soft and yielding, and the way he sobbed so sweetly. Kristoph had thoroughly tricked him, manipulated Klavier into letting him do what he wanted and manage to keep it a secret to boot. He still felt guilty. It was likely he’d always feel guilty. Kristoph felt the guilt roiling in his gut every time he thought of Klavier, young Klavier, when he slept with one of the other boys in his school. Through an odd twist of luck the boy’s name was also Klavier… however he was nothing compared to Kristoph’s Klavier, the only real Klavier. Still, it had been nice to have the ability to say the name during coitus without being questioned—something Kristoph took as much advantage of as he could. Once he entered college, Kristoph knew he had to find a replacement for his replacement. He was attractive—he’d learned that much from boarding school—and finding someone willing to please him was simple. Whenever he had sex it was empty and carnal, but that suited him just fine. Kristoph always found himself taking control, giving orders that were selfish, acting selfish himself. He kissed his partners, but rarely was he the one to explore their bodies; never sucked or fondled another’s cock, not unless it was to guide it inside him; the only times he needed to touch was to stretch the other man when he was planning to top, if the man in question refused to do so himself. When he was with a woman Kristoph allowed his fingers to wander a bit more, but as with the men, everything else was sacrosanct. In the end, always, no matter who he was with, all he could think of was Klavier. Engel, brüderlein, mein Klavier. After successfully finishing college and passing the bar exam, Kristoph opened up his own law firm with the aid of his parents—rather, their money. Gavin Law Offices was small, but Kristoph ran it well. He was only twenty-three, but he earned himself clients; clients who liked him, clients who were taken in by his charm and promises to get them the innocent verdict they deserved (or so they claimed). Clients who paid well. It didn’t take very long for him to be able to afford a secretary, once he had earned enough to buy a car and rent himself a decent-sized apartment nearby. Kristoph was praised near constantly for his ability to defend the innocent. He’d even been compared to the renown Phoenix Wright more than once, although Kristoph wasn’t sure if the comparison was all too fair on his part. After all, in Wright’s early days, he was known more for his devil’s luck than his skill. He was focused on his job, but Kristoph missed Klavier more than he did his parents, his home, his country. He desired to see his brother, but Kristoph had changed. He knew he had, somehow. He felt… obsessive. Not just over Klavier, but over different things. Little things. His appearance became something he doted on more than normal; he kept his nails neatly manicured and coated in a clear polish, made sure his suits were crisply ironed before he left for the office. He had to look more than presentable, he reasoned. Clients who were truly innocent would put their complete trust in him if he gave off that perfectionist’s aura. If he lost that professionalism, he would get nowhere in the world of law. After all, the fame that came with winning his cases was almost as important to him as Klavier. *** On a Sunday morning, out of the blue, Kristoph received a phone call from his mother, asking him if Klavier had arrived yet. “What do you mean, ‘has he arrived’?” Kristoph demanded, dropping a slice of plain wheat toast on his breakfast plate. “Klavier is going to be in America for the next two weeks, taking an extracurricular course for his schooling,” his mother explained slowly, “He told both me and Vati he’d made plans to stay with you.” “Mutter, I’ve not been in contact with Klavier since I left.” Kristoph heard her cover the mouthpiece loosely and tell someone—his father, Kristoph presumed—what he had said. He took a small bite of his toast while he waited. “How can that be, Kristoph? He copied your address straight from my book, even asking me several times before he left if it was current—” “Slow down, Mutter. Breathe.” Kristoph placed a hand irritably against his forehead to dull the headache that was rapidly approaching. “How long ago did he leave?” “Vati brought him to the airport a little over twelve hours ago…” “And it didn’t occur to you to call me then?” He was trying to stay cool, but Kristoph’s voice rose in his frustration. What in the world was Klavier thinking? “The time difference, Kristoph—I didn’t want to disturb you—” “I understand…” “He’s only sixteen, in a city like yours… Mein Gott, Klavier could be—” Frowning deeply, Kristoph interrupted her. “Vater saw him board? A plane to LA, that is.” “Ja, he even watched it take to the sky—” Kristoph started as he heard a knock at the door. Cordless phone in hand, Kristoph listened to his mother fret nonstop as he walked over and looked through the peephole. It was Klavier. There was no mistake. Kristoph hurriedly undid the lock and threw back the latch. “He’s arrived, Mutter. Klavier.” She sounded close to crying. Kristoph wondered just what Klavier had been up to over in Germany; Kristoph couldn’t recall the last time their mother worried about him to that extent, if she ever had. She never mentioned anything about misbehaving, acting out, general dereliction… “May I speak with him?” He opened the door, phone held out rigidly in front of him, and stated, “Mother has a few words for you.” Klavier took the receiver and shuffled inside, dropping his bag to the floor and removing a heavy looking object from his back—a red leather guitar case. As Klavier did his best to appease their mother, Kristoph’s heart hammered in his chest. His little brother had grown so much. Klavier’s skin bore a dark tan, starkly contrasting his light blond hair. He was tall now, his body toned, voice deep. If he spoke in English, Kristoph suspected Klavier’s voice would be tinged with the German accent he had since forced himself to lose upon moving to America. He noticed that Klavier wore jewelry, now—heavy chains, thick rings, even earrings, all of it silver. Kristoph was surprised their mother allowed her Engel to dress in such a way. Frankly, Klavier looked as if he were some sort of delinquent. But to Kristoph, he was still… picturesque. “Ich hab’ dich lieb, Mutti. Ja. Auf Wiederhören!” Klavier beeped the END button and handed the phone back to his brother. “Surprise.” Staring at him blankly, Kristoph said, “A bit of a warning would have been much appreciated.” “I’ve come to enjoy impromptu appearances.” Klavier held out his arms. “Don’t I deserve a hug, Kristoph? We haven’t seen each other in… eight years, was it?” No longer “Bruder”, but “Kristoph”. Less intimate, but Kristoph figured it was for the best. Surely he no longer deserve to be called Brother, when all was said and done… Cautiously Kristoph stepped into Klavier’s embrace and wrapped his arms around him, grip weak. He didn’t want to hold on too tight; he didn’t deserve to hold him that way. “I missed you,” he said, unbidden, quiet. “I’ll be staying a week,” Klavier informed him, not mirroring the sentiment. Kristoph couldn’t tell if he had done so on purpose or if Klavier genuinely hadn’t caught it. “Mutti said you were living alone, so it’s no bother to you, ja?” “Speak English when you’re in America, Klavier,” Kristoph scolded, pushing his hair behind his ear. “You do understand the language thanks to schooling; quite well, I’ve been told.” Klavier waved him off. “Always so proper. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” “Mother mentioned an extracurricular activity,” Kristoph answered, “although that sounds like an excuse.” “It’s true.” Kristoph folded his arms in front of his chest skeptically. “Is it, now?” “Ja. For law school.” The answer genuinely took Kristoph by surprise. “You? Studying law?” Klavier nodded. “I decided to take up prosecution.” “Why not defense?” The question came before he could stop it. The thought that his brother was going to take up the other side instead of following in his footsteps was a shock. “What family needs two defense attorneys?” Kristoph shook his head. “No one ever told me—” “I wanted to tell you myself,” Klavier answered easily, shrugging. “As a surprise.” “Well, it certainly is a surprise,” Kristoph agreed. His tension headache was flaring up all over again. “I never would have imagined—of all people…” Klavier grinned, his teeth perfectly white and straight, and placed his hands on his hips as he leaned forward. “You believe I am too flighty for the field?” “Frankly…” Kristoph looked his brother over yet again. Judging by appearances alone, Kristoph would have agreed without hesitation. However he knew Klavier was clever as a child… “I wouldn’t know. You and I haven’t spoken in a while.” “In years,” Klavier corrected him. “Much longer than ‘a while’.” Kristoph began to walk away, returning to his previously abandoned breakfast. “You never called.” “The good thing about telephones is it rings both ways,” Klavier retorted. He followed Kristoph, chains rattling noisily together. “You also could have asked to talk with me when you were on the phone with Mut—Mom.” Abruptly Kristoph’s toast was snatched from his hand. He watched his younger brother devour it as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “The same could be said of you.” “Ach, why do you hound me, Kristoph? We’ve reunited after so long and all you’ve done is bitch about everything.” “A thousand apologies,” Kristoph began, “perhaps you would have found me in a better mood had I known in advance that I’d be playing host for the next week.” After a pause, he added, “Mother said you would be here for two weeks, not one. What are you going to do the second week?” “I have a friend I plan to stay with, after.” That word… Kristoph hated hearing that word come from his brother’s lips when he was younger, but now that Klavier had grown up so finely, who knew what sorts of implications it now held. “‘Friend’?” Kristoph crossed his arms. “What sort of ‘friend’ could you possibly have here?” “A friend. One who has friends, my potential bandmates.” “‘Bandmates’,” he repeated flatly. “And how, pray tell, did you meet this ‘friend’?” “Ah, the internet, my technophobic brother.” The tone of Klavier’s voice was maddeningly sarcastic. “You see, there is a wondrous land they call ‘cyberspace’—” “I’m aware,” Kristoph said sharply. “I was, however, under the impression that you were here for your studies. How are you going to do that, staying with a ‘friend’?” “Ja, ja, I lied to our parents. The first week is for study. The second, I rock. Now, where do I sleep?” “The Gatewater Hotel,” the older man responded as he popped a replacement piece of bread into the toaster. “I don’t agree with your plans, for one, and I’ve no room to keep you.” He could not allow Klavier to stay with him, not when he grew up to be so good- looking—rather, good-looking when his mouth was closed. Thus far none of the old Klavier made its appearance; just as Kristoph had worried, Klavier grew up spoiled and dependent, and with the way he dressed and acted, starved for attention, if all the nonsense about starting a band was any indication. It saddened him, in a way, but Kristoph hoped—prayed—that seeing Klavier as he was now would help to crush that terrible love he still harbored for his brother. But already Kristoph was feeling it—feeling that want, that possessiveness, jealousy. He had half a mind to call their parents straightaway and have them book a flight back to Germany for Klavier once his true objective was through. “No room?” Klavier made a sweeping gesture over to the living room, fairly sized, with an overstuffed white couch and loveseat situated in the middle. “You lie. I’ll be sleeping in there, then.” “Whatever happened to your manners?” scolded Kristoph, “How have you come to be so willful?” Klavier leaned forward, smiling in his brother’s face. Kristoph smelled his cologne, his hair, his clothes, Klavier… “Little boys grow up, Kristoph.” He suppressed a shudder of guilty excitement. “Kristoph.” Upon hearing his name, he turned towards the living room. Klavier sat on the edge of the couch, removing his heavy, military-style boots. “Wake me around noon, ja? I promised my friend I would meet him then.” He laid on the couch, back facing Kristoph. Kristoph eyed him, took in his form; looked down the line of his body, from his broadening shoulders to his decidedly male hips, covered in a thick black material. He noticed Klavier even had a chain as a belt. Kristoph swallowed. He hadn’t distanced himself for so long only to be faced with… this. This creature. “Did you hear me, Kristoph?” “Yes, yes.” Klavier went silent after that; whether he chose to ignore Kristoph’s pressing or had actually fallen asleep was anyone’s guess. Appetite sufficiently stamped, Kristoph dumped the remains of his breakfast into the garbage and headed off towards the shower. Under the hot spray, all he could think of was Klavier. When he kept his mouth shut, Klavier was ephemeral. Kristoph never imagined he would fall so hard upon meeting Klavier again, despite how much he had changed. Kristoph’s descent into Hell had started anew. Kristoph was hard; when that had happened, he didn’t know. He took his erection in one hand and pumped, at the same time placing a leg on the edge of the tub and plunging his fingers deep inside himself for extra stimulation. The sooner he rid himself of that particular problem, the better. All this thoughts were on Klavier, all of them sinful, of what Klavier could do to him now that he was grown up, of what he could do to Klavier… It didn’t take long for him to come. Kristoph finished his shower quickly in order to not arouse suspicion, if Klavier really was feigning sleep. For the duration of Klavier’s stay, showering before his brother awoke became Kristoph’s morning ritual. *** Being near Klavier was torture. It was no longer the sweet, painful torture Kristoph remembered from his youth; it was much different. More palpable. Less forgivable. Simply put, Klavier was a brat. He did his work the way he was supposed to, however Klavier was selfish; he stayed up late when he even deigned himself to return, and played his guitar throughout the night, singing his songs with their pointless lyrics. It could have been worse—Klavier could have been tone deaf or had no sense of rhythm, yet he did, which made it tolerable, however Kristoph still disapproved and would have rather not heard it at all. But the main thing Kristoph loathed about this Klavier was that he was so… overtly sexual. With Klavier, everything became a double entendre. When they shared a meal together, Klavier made it a point to bring up the subject of his sexual conquests, both female and male alike. He referred to anyone he slept with as his “lover”, spoke of encounters flippantly and in shocking detail. So clear, in fact, that Kristoph couldn’t decide if Klavier was making everything up or had a photographic memory. Kristoph’s mind reeled whenever Klavier brought up the males he chose—a good deal of those, apparently, were either blond or wore spectacles—and cited a preference for being on the receiving end for most of his romps with them. “I can penetrate a female whenever I feel like it, ja? But you see, Kristoph, females are not so eager to penetrateme.” Skirting the issue of Kristoph’s own sex life was apparently unacceptable to Klavier. He was never satisfied with the answers Kristoph gave him; he refused to believe when Kristoph said he was never attracted to another man, had never slept with another man—Kristoph lied, but frankly what he did was none of his younger brother’s business. The women Kristoph admitted to entertaining were of no interest to Klavier. Only men. At the breakfast table one morning, Klavier, who clearly hadn’t slept a wink during the night, asked, “Did any of them ever remind you of me?” “What’s this you’re blithering about now!?” Kristoph choked out, covering his mouth to keep from spraying his brother with food. “Any of who?” “Lovers. Fuck buddies. One-night stands.” Klavier leaned forward, forearm crossed over forearm, and looked pointedly at his brother. “I know you’ve had them, Kristoph. Men.” Kristoph’s eyes turned to slits. “What is this sick fascination of yours, imagining me with another man? How many times must I reiterate that I have not been intimate with anyone of my gender before you will drop this absurd line of questioning?” “I seem to recall that, when we were younger, there was a certain boy you were infatuated with,” Klavier started, a thin, unreadable smile spreading across his face, “and so I wondered if you were still interested in such boys. Rather, males.” The older man’s face was a complete blank, now, though in his mind he knew that Klavier remembered. He remembered, but not with the vivid clarity Kristoph did. It seemed all Klavier wanted was a confirmation. However, Kristoph was not about to freely admit to anything along those lines, would not volunteer information about what he did to his dear younger brother. It was something Kristoph planned to take with him to the grave, where there would be no way for Klavier to wrest the answer to that from his cold, dead hands. The guilt was something Kristoph suffered alone. Klavier would have to do the same with his uncertainty. “I don’t seem to recall anything like that,” Kristoph replied. “Interesting…” Klavier watched him intently as he took a sip of his morning coffee. Kristoph was glad he had to be out of the house in an hour—this was to be the last day Klavier stayed with him, and he was counting down the minutes until Klavier left his house and went off to stay with one of those American friends he inexplicably had. “Last night I dreamt about you, Kristoph. Of you and me, actually.” Kristoph held up a hand, shaking his head. “I have no interest in hearing whatever it is you dreamt of, doubly so if it’s sexual in nature. You are my brother, Klavier. Have some decency, for God’s sake.” The older blond took his breakfast and dumped everything, leaving his coffee by the sink. Klavier followed him to his bedroom and stood in the doorway as Kristoph bustled about his bedroom. He laid his work clothes out on the bed, avoiding eye contact with Klavier as he did, yet Klavier’s stolid stare bore into him, scrutinizing him. Klavier grabbed Kristoph’s arm as he walked by on his way to the bathroom. He pulled Kristoph backwards, closer to him, stared into his eyes. Kristoph frowned deeply and shook him off. “I have work in less than an hour. I haven’t the time to deal with whatever nonsense you are about to subject me to, Klavier,” he said sternly. “…ah.” Klavier’s face softened into its normal smile, nothing like the grave look he had not too long ago. It was another thing Kristoph noticed about Klavier—his behavior took frequent, sudden 180s, went from angered or simply blank to cheerful and undisturbed at the drop of a hat. What made it worse was that Kristoph knew he was the source of it all. Tilting his head, Klavier said, “I’m going to sleep. That is all I wanted to tell you.” “Then go to sleep.” Kristoph didn’t spare him a second glance as he made off to shower before work. In the bathroom Kristoph stripped off his pajamas quickly, waiting until the water was the right temperature before removing his glasses and stepping in. He washed, trying to keep his shower quick and uninvolved, yet again his thoughts strayed to his younger brother. Kristoph wondered what sort of dream Klavier claimed he had… He couldn’t stop it. What he wanted to be a simple shower turned into the usual affair—his cock hardened in his hands, he thought of Klavier, of his own disgusting needs… Kristoph gasped, stroking himself fast with his cheek pressed against the tile wall, so close to coming when the bathroom door creaked open. He gritted his teeth and ordered, “Get out.” “Perhaps, Kristoph, you will be able to help me figure something out,” Klavier said, ignoring him. “About my dream.” “This can wait. Get out,” Kristoph repeated. He stood in the shower with his head down, his left hand planted against the wall as water poured down on him, plastering his hair to his back, and willed Klavier to leave. “Nein, I think not… Kristoph, tell me, how often did you and I bathe together as children?” “I can’t remember,” Kristoph lied. “I also find this matter less than pressing, Klavier—it can wait until after I return.” “We were bathing together, in my dream,” he said, voice unreadable, “I was quite young. Perhaps six or seven?” He swallowed. Kristoph could hear the sound of fabric sliding over fabric on the other side of the curtain but saw only blur and shadows. Not until he heard his brother’s belt buckle jingling and clattering to the floor did Kristoph’s assumption that Klavier was undressing ring true. How, exactly, was he going to hide his very obvious erection if Klavier was planning what Kristoph believed he was? Klavier pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the bath behind Kristoph. The older man stiffened. He wanted nothing more than Klavier to leave—not only the bathroom, but his home. Kristoph couldn’t bear having him around, not anymore. “How often did we bathe together?” Klavier asked again. “As I said, I cannot recall.” “You were touching me. From behind.” Kristoph stiffened when Klavier grabbed him around the waist, pulled him to his body. He clawed at his brother’s arms but could find little purchase due to the water pounding on both of them. “Klavier,” Kristoph growled, clamping his hands on his brother’s forearms, “let go of me.” “You were hard, you were touching me…” Klavier slid his hands up to Kristoph’s nipples despite Kristoph’s twisting and clawing at him, “like this,” he dropped a hand to Kristoph’s cock, grabbed it almost viciously, “and this, ja?” “What sort of revolting dream—” Klavier turned Kristoph around and shoved him against the wall. He pressed a forearm against his brother’s neck, choking him. Kristoph lashed out at him, at his face, wherever he could. It didn’t last for long—his hands were again at Klavier’s forearm, this time attempting to pull it from his neck. It was getting harder for him to breathe; the look in Klavier’s eyes was murderous. “It was no dream, Kristoph.” If he had the capacity to do so under the circumstances, Kristoph’s eyes would have gone wide with disbelief. “Was it?” Klavier pulled his arm away from his brother’s throat. He grabbed Kristoph by the hair and forced him to his knees. Kristoph struggled to catch his breath, unable to see what Klavier was up to due to his lack of glasses—though he did, once he was breathing regularly. Klavier was stroking his cock, looking down at Kristoph as he did so. Voice a sneer, Klavier pressed his cock to Kristoph’s lips and told him to suck. When Kristoph refused, Klavier grabbed his long hair again, forced him to open his mouth, forced his cock inside. Kristoph closed his eyes. He didn’t want to do this, but at the same time had wanted to for so long. His precious little brother, sweet Klavier… Kristoph ignored the insults and accusations laid upon him as he sucked Klavier far too enthusiastically under the circumstances. Though, he rationalized, the quicker Klavier came, the quicker he would realize with horror what he’d forced Kristoph to do; he’d realize that their sins were the same. Klavier brought himself down to Kristoph’s level of his own volition. When he realized that, surely Klavier would leave him for good. Klavier held Kristoph’s head, fucked his mouth with more intensity than Kristoph had expected, testing his gag reflexes more than once. Klavier seemed to be in his own world, caught up in the rhythm; Kristoph himself sucked to the best of his abilities to bring about a quick end. Finally Klavier came, semen spilling into Kristoph’s mouth, over his tongue, down his throat. Kristoph had no choice but to swallow—Klavier held his head in place, watching him. He thrust into Kristoph’s mouth twice more with his flagging cock before finally pulling out. Klavier ignored his brother as he rinsed himself off and stepped out of the shower. Once a towel was securely wrapped around his waist and discarded clothes in his hands, Klavier spat, “Enjoy facing today’s clients with the taste of my cum in your mouth, mein Bruderherz.” Kristoph stood as soon as Klavier left the room to finish showering. If luck was on his side, Klavier would be out of his life for good when Kristoph came home from work that night. *** Kristoph purposely stayed at the office far later than usual. He’d dismissed his secretary early, told her that he would take care of the filing for the night. She was compliant, happy to leave at a decent hour for once, thanking him profusely as she gathered her things and left. She had a husband and young children, whose pictures she displayed proudly behind the receptionist’s desk and out of clients’ sight as Kristoph had directed. They would be glad to see her home so soon. With her gone, Kristoph made quick work of the filing—after all, he’d come up with the system. Everything was in its place in less than twenty minutes. He wandered out to the desk in the front and sat in his secretary’s chair to look at the pictures she had laid out. Margery was a rather plain-looking woman, yet she had such a handsome family. A normal family. Kristoph couldn’t imagine that the siblings in the pictures would ever have thoughts about one another the way he had for Klavier. Kristoph leaned on his left elbow, studying the siblings. They looked happy together, smiling so genuinely that he couldn’t imagine they were mugging for the camera. What Margery had was a normal family, normal children. The woman should be counting her blessings every day. Nothing was normal for him. Kristoph was like poison, tainted, capable of ruining lives. He’d thoroughly corrupted Klavier, hadn’t he? And that poison was coursing through Klavier’s system now, taking its toll on him, making him suffer. Klavier’s taste lingered on his tongue, angry and bitter. Kristoph removed his glasses and set them upon the desk. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Kristoph had gone through the day as if nothing was wrong. He smiled for his clients, promised them everything he could promise, and none of them expected that there was a problem, that he’d been forced to fellate his own little brother before he went into work, that the hand they shook had touched his kin in a way it was never meant to. Not even Margery suspected a thing. It was easy to put on a front. Kristoph had done it for years back in Germany. Wondering what time it was, he reached for his glasses and glanced at the time displayed on the telephone. A bit past seven—it was likely late enough to return home to an empty apartment, but Kristoph decided the later he stayed, the better. If he were a lesser man he would spend the night in the office in order to be sure that Klavier would be gone. “This is ridiculous,” Kristoph said aloud. He couldn’t believe himself, running away like a common rat, yet what else was there for him to do? A simple apology wouldn’t work; explaining to Klavier that he’d loved him since he was a child was out of the question. Regardless of how Kristoph chose to explain it, Klavier wouldn’t believe him. He must have thought Kristoph’s act back then was purposefully malicious, that Kristoph had purposefully wanted to scar him even if he didn’t know why or what he had done to deserve it. That couldn’t be changed. It was too late to convince Klavier that it was nothing more than a dream. Kristoph hadn’t confirmed that it happened in reality, yet he made no attempt to deny it, either. To try and do so now, after what transpired that morning, would be self-incrimination. Being a budding prosecutor, it would seem to Klavier like Kristoph had deliberated on it all day just to come up with the perfect excuse. No. No, he would leave things as they were. Kristoph would leave him with the guilt he must have felt by now. It left them even. Kristoph adjusted his spectacles before heading back into his office. It was time to go home and face his fate. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!