Archive of Our Own

apollo justice has, for all intents and purposes, settled down in the eye of a hurricane.

he works with the cards he's been given, suffice to say.

this isn't the only life he could've lived, but it's his most successful one. by his own measures of successful.

success is relative. that fact is the horribly flimsy ground beneath his feet, his own patronizing little pat on the back to himself.

his other options ran the gamut from boring to suicidal. (work retail. go back home.)

so he took a couple steps into the storm. and then he had "connections" he could maybe convince to take him on as a charity case. but that just brought him back to the exact same dichotomy. (and he was always gonna hate being a charity case, anyway.)

it is sunday, february 13th, 2028. he is not particularly excited to start the work week.

no one at the office is taken, officially. so there will, at least, not be any extra guests hogging the office space. but there'll be "happy valentines", and there'll be light teasing over him being the loneliest.

he attracts swathes of "lively" people wherever he goes. he cannot get away from them, they cannot get away from him. and it's despite that, that he cannot find anyone he is interested in.

is it bad luck, or is it just innate to him. who knows, really. its kinda hard to tell when… well… he doesn't hate the people he hangs out with. he respects them more than he can express, all of them. but they're kind of embarrassing. in the same way that he, himself, is embarrassing. which shouldn't make him upset, like attracts like. but it'd be nice to have someone cool-headed who doesn't betray him.

but if the universe says he doesn't get that, then fine. he won't waste his life waiting for it.

he doesn't want to spend the day bed-rotting. this would, obviously, be letting valentine's win. but he didn't plan anything with anyone, in case they'd get the wrong idea. and going out alone on valentine's weekend is inviting shame to come crawl on your back. not that he's ashamed of being single. he's just… trying not to dour anyone else's mood. (it's more trouble than it's worth.)

he wasn't alone last year. or the year before. or the year before. etcetera, etcetera. he had someone who would not get the wrong idea. who was embarrassing, yeah, but transparent. which is the most apollo had any right to ask for.

and like that, his mind is changed. funny. he could bed-rot today.

he gets his phone. he scrolls through the contacts.

he has people who care about him. plenty of them. undeniably.

he even has people who (he's pretty sure) like him romantically. and they're people he respects. and he does… enjoy knowing that. (and there's a shame in saying that. a flash of fear that he's a narcissus, rejecting all his suitors but basking in their attention. shortly nipped at the bud by the reality that, on his best days apollo justice does not value himself very highly.)

but more than that, he has people he's saved. in the truest sense of the word. he didn't save them alone, most of them are not very actively in his life, but. there's a reason going through his contacts can assuage some things. (there're days that can't be salvaged. today's not nearly that horrid.)

his will is rejuvenated enough that he can take his journal from his bedside.

and he knows how writing will go. its not that the last few entries are all identical. they're more detailed than usual, they each go on completely different tangents. if nothing else, they're thorough records. (they really aren't much else, honestly.)

writing them has been identical. describe his (nothingburger) day, run out of comments, devote a single sentence to how well everyone else is doing, start pouring out his own feelings, mull long, mull hard, cry. unceremoniously.

he is bored of the grief, at this point. he's not over it, but he is so tired of watching himself not be over it. it’s been a month and a half of this. and it’s not like he's spent all that time crying. far, far from it. but he's spent the whole time incomplete. and incompleteness is the culprit here. he is, on a deeper level, still angry and still miserable, but those are boiling at a steady pace. it’s the incompleteness that tries to drown him every time he looks at it.

it’s, in a way, nice to write about the anger and the misery, because they're righteous emotions. the good and moral emotions of someone who just had an injustice committed against them. the incompleteness, the boredom, are commented on out of obligation. for thoroughness.

he closes his journal without having written anything, and picks up his phone again.

(this is him "doing the healthy thing" and ""reaching out"" so… no reason to feel such a palpable dread.)

(there 100% still is, but point is she specifically will not hold this against him. probably.)

hey, are you busy?<

>no, why? something happen??

just wanted to see if we could call<

not about anything just calling to hang out<

because i don't actually wanna see anyone right now<

>aw

>bad day to be alone i get it

this isn't a valentine's day thing i just like talking to my friends<

don't make it weird i will hang up<

>oh my god he admitted it

i get it i'm the grinch i'm literally scrooge and also i knew the dinosaurs you are so funny<

>sorry cant hear you over the soudn of my shcok i hope my friend isn't saying anything mean about me

can you call or can't you<

>i can i can i just missed bantering

>waaaaa

you saw me at work two days ago<

>but we haven't done anything! nothing big anyway

>i'm beign dramatic on purpose you know. i am a well-adjusted woman

>despite your greatest efforts

oh shuddup. i'm glad you're not feeling down though<

>are you?

>are you feeling down i mean. not are you glad

you tell me<

shouldn't you be jumping at the chance to call? you get the high-ground or whatever.<

>i mean i'd like to hear your voice again anyway. but i would bet you're *not* feeling comfortably neutral right now. and i'm not on the clock.

>can't believe my superior is making me work unpaid overtime… cruel times we live in

i'm glad you choose to talk to me.<

not sarcasm<

>glad we're friends too.

>i've spent a lot of life lonely too yknow.

>not trying to get pity it ws just really really boring yknow. except when it wasn't. but then when it wasn't, it wasn't "interesting" it was just painfully incomprehensible. there was never a normal amount of things going on

>and you grow up and you realize feeling normal or not feeling normal wasn't about your environment it was about you. i mean it was a little bit about your environment but

its a pain<

>huge pain massive incovenience

>lemme switch out of my gym clothes and ill call ok?

alright i'll be waiting<

forgot you went to the gym, let alone when you got out. just lucky timing on my part<

yeah yeah you can badger me about your "massive gains" when you call<

sorry, brain is slow to work today.<