Klavier sighed loudly as he walked out of the theater, alone. That day’s show was awful, performing with strangers always was. His mind immediately went to Daryan and the Gavinners, and how all of them fit perfectly together… Unlike him and those musicians he paid to work with him, so he could end the Gavinners tour, at least by himself.
But that story was over. Pretty much everyone he cared about was in jail, or found approaching Klavier something too problematic. For example, his investigation partner and the guitarist of the band, Daryan, killed someone (he still couldn't believe it!), and his ex bandmates decided to leave Klavier, fearing that the Gavin legal shitstorm would kill their careers.
Whatever. Really. Klavier was doing just fine without them. So what if, when he rode his bike, he hoped for a crash? Was there a problem with that? That idea went through everyone’s head at some point.
Fuck what the journalists say about me, he thought. Maybe if he repeated that to himself enough, it would become a reality. But… he cared, a lot. He cared about what other people said more than anything.
Feeling thirsty, Klavier decided to go to some bar; no fan would be there to scream at his sight in excitement this time, anyway. He decided to go to the Borscht Bowl Club, specifically. From the last trial of his brother as a lawyer, Klavier gathered that Phoenix Wright worked in this place, as a poker player or something like that. Klavier wasn’t particularly thrilled at the possibility of running into him that day… but he kind of hoped he did.
A lot of people yelled at Klavier on the internet, people he didn’t even know who accused him of hyperbolic things, such as making up the whole Daryan-is-a-killer thing so nobody else could be the star of the band… What?
But if Phoenix was mad at him, as weird as it was… Klavier would feel a little bit better. Because then, finally, someone would tell him something that actually made sense for him.
How long had it been since anything at all made sense in his life?
The first two things that Klavier noticed about the strange bar were that it was filled with fake snow, and they didn't serve wine, just grape juice (The staff couldn't have people gambling while drunk. Gambling was fine, but not getting drunk… at a bar). The third thing was the way Phoenix glanced at him on occasion as he played the piano near the tables, and oh, he was so, so terribly bad at it.
Phoenix could have been embarrassed to play the piano horribly enough to make the ears of a deaf person bleed, but when their eyes met, Phoenix smiled a little and waved at Klavier. Waving back, Klavier was the flustered one, instead.
“What’s up, rock boy?” Phoenix asked.
“Not much. Even rockstars need to take a break from stardom sometimes, ja?” he said as he snapped his fingers, “I was in town and thought I should say hi.”
“Okay. Hi,” Phoenix replied with a smile and turned towards the piano again, “Is there any song you’d like me to play?”
Klavier did his best not to wince, and failed.
“No thanks.”
“Yeah, I know, but asking that is part of my contract,” Phoenix explained with a shrug.
A few seconds passed, and Klavier just watched Phoenix trying to play the instrument. He thought, for a few moments, about how much he missed singing with the melody of another artist, an artist he actually knew.
“Are you not going to say anything?” Klavier asked quietly.
Phoenix snapped to attention.
“About what?”
“About… how I’m a bad prosecutor that didn’t investigate any case enough or… you know, all of that?”
“Nah,” Phoenix said simply, “People tell you that a lot already. It’s uncalled for.”
Klavier stared at Phoenix’s hands as he played, deep in thought. He believed Phoenix being angry at him would be cleansing… But that was nice, too.
“Uncalled for, huh,” he murmured to himself.
Then, Phoenix kept playing. Despite the off-key notes, Klavier slowly started recognizing the song.
“Herr Wright, is that… Guilty Love?”
Phoenix grinned.
“Yes. The customers tell me to play your songs all the time, so I had to learn some. After I play your songs to them… they usually don’t come back.”
Klavier looked at him with a shocked, amused expression.
“Sure… Learn .”
“Heh. Sorry to destroy your work like this, but until I get a good salary, nobody’s getting a good performance!”
“That’s… reasonable, actually. I was wondering… You said, at your trial, that there’s one song you know how to play.”
Phoenix looked down, nostalgic and… sad?
“Uh-huh. How about I play it for you, prosecutor Gavin… but we spice it up a little?”
Klavier smiled.
“Do you want me to sing over the melody?”
“That’d be a blessing, yeah.”
“Well, I’d love to.”
Happily, Phoenix started playing another song, it was calm and beautiful. Klavier listened intently, and slightly swayed his head as he followed the rhythm.
“It’s a nice song. What’s it called?”
“The fragrance of dark coffee. It doesn’t really have vocals, though, so…”
“That’s fine, I can improvise.”
Phoenix played the song with expertise, as he had for years, since it held a very special place in his heart. His old friend Godot may be gone, but not this song. Phoenix had a slightly melancholic expression on his face, since he now was comfortable enough with Klavier to not pretend to be laid back and cheerful.
But then Phoenix closed his eyes and simply listened to Klavier singing, making up lyrics at the moment… and felt happy again.