alitatiala

Hello! You can call me Alita! I write gavincest. Come check it out (if you like that sort of thing) on AO3! Adults only, please ❤️

Kristoph coached Klavier extensively on how to approach their parents, what to say. He made him practice. Klavier was a good mimic. Kristoph could see him making a good performer one day, even around the flashes of nerves he could pick up when he reminded Klavier to smile, to make eye contact, to keep his chin up, his face neutral, even if he was admonished or ridiculed or scorned.

Masquerade

“So, of course, I call your mother, and what does she tell me? ‘Oh, Kristoph—he was talking about reporting you.’ ‘Oh, Kristoph—he has kept Klavier out of school for the past three days.’ ‘Oh, Kristoph, he tells us Klavier was crying and shaking because he was so afraid.’ Kristoph, your brother has you hoodwinked. He has you exactly where he wants you. Yes, he is a little boy. But he was a little boy when he slashed your hand. He is a little boy who just days ago tried to burn our house down with your mother asleep inside, a little boy who is trying to destroy this entire family, and you are going to let him.”

“Kristoph, look. Klavier is…he’s always been difficult, and I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t really understand exactly—”

The Music of the Night

“Klavier, what—?” he said, turning to face him. The pain was growing. Kristoph locked his jaw in place, gritting his teeth as he tried hard not to cry out, not to show the pain. “Klavier, I told you you can’t—”

“Kristoph, listen, when I come home, I will come see you first thing. And I will start at the Prosecutor’s Office right away. If…if anything goes wrong tomorrow, I will fix it. I promise, I will fix everything.”