Fine [Apollo x Reader]

Apollo’s throat officially fell numb.

The reflection of his big, brown eyes, now heavy and puffy, gazed back at him with disdain at the continuous torture of his vocal chords.

Chords of Steel. Right.

At this point, with the rawness and the stinging, the redness, they were more like chords of raw meat.

Swallowing hard, he clenched his teeth and rubbed the front of his neck. It was almost time for the trial to begin, and he still seemed to swim in absolute darkness - or drowning. How was he supposed to defend his client with such a rickety foundation to stand on?

On the other hand, Phoenix Wright, his predecessor, his mentor, his hero, always managed to prove the innocence of his clients. Hell, he could only begin with a grand of sand as a piece of evidence and still win his case!

How could ever hope to enter the same vicinity as him?

Clearing his throat, he turned back to you, currently sitting on the sofa within the lobby. You rose  upon his approach and handed him the small stack of evidence you gathered from the investigations.

“This is everything,” you said almost in a whisper, eyes fixed on him.

“Thanks,” he croaked and tucked it under his arm. His gaze remained glued to the floor.

With a small frown, you touched his shoulder.

“Apollo? Are you okay?”

Almost reflexively, his head perked up, and he flashed a toothy smile.

“Yeah! I’m fine!”

You lost your words at the abrupt reply.

“B-but-”

“Don’t worry,” he clutched your hands and kissed your fingers. He followed it up with a breathy laugh.  “I have you here with me!”

You smiled weakly at his warm gesture, but you still sensed the trembling and sweating in his palms.

Why do you do this to yourself? you thought.

You knew he was terrified. You knew he suffered stage fright more than anyone, and you knew that despite it all, he pushed himself beyond his limits for the sake of his work.

The circles buried beneath his eyes were enough of an indication.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Was he really though?

“But, Apollo....”

The shuffling and murmurs began to hush as the defendant and prosecutor took their stands. Apollo’s eyes shifted over to you as he suck in his bottom lip, eyes pleading for any word of reassurance.

You gave him a quick nod and a thumbs up before sending him on his way.

He’ll be fine, you kept telling yourself, as you pass through the doors and take your seat among the whispering crowd. Worry wallowed in your stomach and tugged at the back of your mind, but you shrugged it off, hoping maybe, just maybe, your inkling was wrong.

He’ll be fine...



The judge initiated a recess, and the situation pivoted 180 degrees for the worst.

With eyes widened with terror, Apollo hunched over, sitting on the lobby bench. Fingers knotted in his hair, the veins protruded the harder his muscles clenched.

And, like a frantic mantra, he mumbled,

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Most of his evidence had been shot down, his theories debunked, and the guilty verdict for the defendant hovered over his head.

But, all he could do, all he could say was his flaky reassurance, his precious lie:
“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

After pushing yourself through the crowd, you rushed to his side, and without a second thought, you threw your arm around his shoulders.

Still, he never moved. He remained motionlessly in this position of agony, saying it again and again:

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Apollo,” you tapped his shoulder. “Apollo, calm down.”

His head jerked in your direction. Tears already rolled half way down his cheeks, and his arms still caged his head between them. With a sigh, you practically pried his hand away and slid your  fingers into the spaces between his.

“I know you’re trying to be strong,” you assured. “And you are.”

His lips slightly parted, but silence remained unbroken.

At last, some of the tension began to melt away and he pressed his back into the bench.

“But, sometimes, strength is knowing when to admit you’re not okay.”

He stayed silent as he allowed the statement to sink in. The concept was completely foreign to him, but he was well aware that you were right.

Even Phoenix Wright possessed the capability of admitting his moments of weakness.

Why couldn’t he?

The more he blinked, the more the ears dripped from his brown eyes, lids heavy with fatigue. Despite this display of stress and anxiety, you felt a strange sense of relief. At least, now he was releasing it from his system.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“Don’t,” without a second passing by, you pulled him to your chest. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

Instead of replying with words, he simply let out a muffled cry into your shirt, caring little who saw him.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” you rested your cheek on his head, holding him tight.

Like a mother comforting a tired child, you simply stroked the back of his head until you felt his quivering dissipate and his muscles grow limp. His back rose slowly and fell against you, and his rapidly pounding slowed into a steady beat.

Finally.

“Apollo,” you muttered. “I’m really proud of you. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

No response.

You patted his shoulder.

“Apollo?”

Still, nothing.

Until you heard a tiny snore emitting from his throat.

“Seriously?” you pursed your lips. but you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You know you have a trial to finish.”

You insisted on continuing to pet his head, which was of course totally helped with the drowsiness.

“Hnnnn, the recess will be over in five minutes,” his voice was nothing more than a grumble into your shoulder, and he lazily draped his arms around you. “Just five more minutes.”

You scoffed.

“Really? You sure you won’t be too drowsy?”

But, it was already too late. The poor boy was as flaccid as a rag doll.

Poor thing had only slept for two hours at the most: you could serve as his resting place for at least a little while.

There was a lot of work to be done on this case, and every chance counted.

At least, you knew for now he would be fine.