Foreword: Hi everyone! I'm ChaosPanic. Some people might know me as Tokomaru. This is my first fanfiction and I poured my heart and soul (and sweat, tears, blood, and toenails) into this. A huge thank you to my friend xStormyx for being my inspiration. Your stories are simply some of the best :D I hope one day I can write as well as you can!

I apologize for any OOC-ness, especially with Klavier. D:

Disclaimer: I'm too poor to own anything (esp. anything by Capcom!)

If the Music Could Last Forever

Apollo fidgeted with his bracelet that was hidden beneath the heavy sleeves of his white tuxedo, too accustomed to wearing his favourite red suit to be entirely comfortable in this unfamiliar attire. He twirled his half-empty wine glass between his fingers before downing it all in one go. The bitter red potion slid comfortingly down his throat.

He was at one of those yearly formal events for people with important ties to the justice system. Both he and Mr. Wright had been invited, but it was Mr. Wright who had forced him to come. Apollo had tried to weasel his way out by saying he didn't have a date to bring, or he was busy that night, but Mr. Wright had laughed and said that he knew Apollo like the back of his hand. Of course Apollo had been free tonight. What he really didn't want to do was see her and he was sure she had been invited tonight.

A beanieless Mr. Wright slouched beside him in a rented gray tux, framed once again in the proud character that had endowed him in his long-gone days of being a lawyer. He was looking a bit sullen though, marring the perfect image that would have otherwise been projected. His date couldn't make it tonight, caught up in a snowstorm back at some place called Hazakura Temple. A woman named Sister Bikini had been furious enough to call the Wright Talent Agency demanding an explanation as to why Iris had been caught trying to escape down the mountain on a skidoo. Apollo was unlucky enough to have been the one answering the phone.

He spotted a few of Mr. Wright's acquaintances, Detective Gumshoe and his fiancée Maggey Byrde, over at another table sitting behind the elegantly frilly Mr. Edgeworth's. Franziska, who seemed to have refused to leave behind her precious whip even for tonight, had a scowl on her face and her arms crossed in front of the striking blue silk dress that perfectly complemented her platinum silver-blue hair. It was hard not to be captivated by such a dominant goddess. She caught his gaze and glared haughtily at him, a look that promised a world of pain, and he quickly looked away, suddenly content to keep all his limbs scar-free tonight.

As he scanned the tables for anyone else he knew, one particular female caught his eye. His heart quickened. It couldn't be. Her eloquent lilac dress wrapped tantalizingly over her shapely curves, a brilliant contrast to her usual unflattering style. Her chestnut brown hair, brushed to a gorgeous shine, beckoned his itchy fingers to run themselves through it. Her face, devoid of the familiar bubblegum glasses, held a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He felt himself being captivated by her charm even before he had fully realized who she was. She was laughing at something her sister's boyfriend had said. Apollo felt a little stab of jealousy worry at his heart. Why couldn't he be the one to make her smile? With that dark thought, he noticed the seat beside her was empty, standing out like a sore thumb in the vast array of talking and laughing people.

They had started out as simple friends, both acquaintances of the disbarred Mr. Wright. Her job as a detective and his as an attorney undeniably set them both on an intertwining road. He admired her charisma and the way she could stand up for herself without being steamrollered into a pancake by her boss. Despite her sometimes grouchy nature, deep down she was so sensitive and insecure that Apollo cherished what they had together even more. However, slowly he found himself being intoxicated by her voice, her touch, and—oh god her scent. It was unlike anything he could ever hope to describe. When she admitted to him, out of the blue, that she and Klavier had become a couple, his heart almost gave out. It drove him insane, with her being so close by and him not being allowed to touch her, to kiss her, to love her. Honestly, he didn't know what she even saw in that flirtatious fan girl magnet.

She had come crying to him one night about something Klavier had done. He had been concerned of course, but he had also been dragged through an exhausting day in court that neither he nor Klavier had won. They chatted for hours and Ema poured out her soul to him. He knew of her unhappiness at being left behind for long periods of time when the Gavinners went on tours, and of the barbed jealousy that the fan girls subjected her to when her boyfriend wasn't around to protect her. The more she talked, the worse the feeling twisted in his gut. She was divulging all her innermost secrets to him and his body was slowly betraying him. By the time they had grown so tired they couldn't think straight, it was three in the morning. That night, he bundled the fragile burden into his arms and took her into his bedroom to sleep beside him. There was nothing sexual about it. He was just being there for his best friend…right? She always teased him about being single, cruelly reeling him in and setting him free again, but it was an illusion of freedom. He knew the moment he had tasted her bait he was hooked for life. Sometimes, he wondered if she would ever realize the sole reason why.

Spotting his reflection in the empty wine glass in front of him, he carefully teased his horns back to their usual sharp points. He caught the looks of some young women, probably the daughters of some of the detectives here tonight, trying to catch his eye. He ignored them. He only had eyes for her.

The music started, the slow seductive swing of a waltz, but there was still no sign of her date. Her table companions began to get up, as with his. His expression softened as he watched her smile and wave off her concerned friends and their dance partners, and they left her, but not without some backward glances. The empty space in the middle of the dance hall began to fill with dancers like molecules twirling into a vacuum.

No trace of her usual grumpiness lingered on her delicate porcelain face. Instead, it was replaced with a subtle anxiety that he believed only he could see, for he was the only one who watched her as a wolf watches longingly for the moon. He didn't need his bracelet to tell him the bitter misery she was feeling. To him, she was the most beautiful woman here, but yet she sat alone at the table like an abandoned purple rose.

He contemplated whether or not to get up and ask her for a dance. Even watching her like this was making his heart ache for more. How would his body handle it if she were in his arms? With each passing moment, she looked sadder than before and she kept glancing at the door at the end of the hall, as if wondering why she had chosen a seat so far away.

As a final moment to prepare himself before getting to his feet, he smoothed his horns again and straightened his tie, praying to God he wouldn't lose his will. His heart pounded in his throat. It was getting hard to breathe.

Almost immediately, he was intercepted by a pretty blonde girl in a blue dress who had been eyeing him before. Shyly, she voiced her wish to dance with him, her eyes hopeful. He almost didn't hear her. In the corner of his eye, he saw the object of his passion get up and gather her belongings. He had to catch her before he was too late.

Hastily, he apologized and sputtered out the first excuse that came into his head. Washroom break. The girl looked surprised and hurt as she stammered her understanding and went to rejoin her nearly-full table. Her friends swept her into their arms and glared acidic stares that were laced with such hate that he felt the material of his borrowed tux threaten to burst into flame. He cringed a little inside. Any decent man would have ignored even the direst of his bladder urges and graced the lady with his time. Perhaps it wouldn't be too late to apologize.

But his legs took him not to the nameless girl he had just hurt. Time was something that he didn't have. He had come to this ball hoping to see her, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he let this chance slip by.

"Ema." Just saying her name took all his breath away. The things this woman made him feel may remain forever trapped within the confines of the darkest corner of his soul, but he fought not to betray the turmoil that lay just beneath his skin with his simple request. "A dance. Please. Before you leave."

In his haste to reach her in time, he had unwittingly pushed her into a corner made by a pillar and the wall, mere feet away from the great doors that guarded this enchanted place. He realized just how close they were and for a moment considered taking a step back to give her some personal space, but then he saw her soulful doe eyes filled to the brim with tears and his heart was engulfed with loathing for the glimmerous fopface who stood her up this evening. He longed to kiss away the sweet saltiness of her tears and sweep her off her feet with a proposal of his own.

"Apollo…" Her voice cracked with emotion and her shoulders shook as she tried to suppress her sobs. "He's…n-not here. He said he'd come."

"Shh….Don't cry." Honestly, Apollo didn't care where the hell Klavier was. He held her tightly against his tortured body, his inner voices screaming at him to be true to his nature. They were harder to ignore as he became more and more aware how well their bodies moulded together, and how with each of her whimpers his soul squeezed with an unbearable pain.

Absentmindedly, he let a finger trail dangerously close to her lacy shoulder straps, resisting the incredible urge to slide them off. He felt her stiffen in alarm against him and stopped himself. What in the world was he doing?

"Ema," he repeated softly. "Dance with me."

She looked sadly to the side, avoiding his gaze. "I should probably g—"

"Please?" The depths of her emerald eyes drew him in like a mysterious whirlpool. "Just one song. For old times' sake."

For old times' sake? What was he saying? Did his body language even suggest that he wanted her dance just for old times' sake? But whatever she thought of his confrontation, she kept to herself.

"Sorry." She giggled a little and relief lifted an immense weight from Apollo's heart. "I bet my eyes are all red and puffy." She dabbed at her eyes, forgetting that she had put on eyeliner tonight and cursed.

Apollo tipped her chin towards him and wiped off the stray streak for her. "It doesn't matter. You still look beautiful tonight."

The look that passed between them made the need for an answer redundant. A new song started to play, one that was more upbeat but still invited couples to the floor. Ema slipped a dainty gloved hand into Apollo's and another behind his shoulder, cherishing the helpless blush that it brought to his cheeks.

They flowed onto the dance floor like a single entity. A part of him was stunned at the skill with which her slender legs moved, entwining seductively between his. He fell enslaved to the sound of her heels clicking in time with the music, like an ancient rhythm that stirred the desires behind the stronghold that guarded his heart. Their speed demanded he hold her tight, so that she wouldn't trip and fall and end up on the floor. Their chests brushed at some point, but neither of them pulled back. Instead, Apollo smirked handsomely at his newfound prize and dared to pull her even closer, so both of them could feel the heat that was generated between them by their masterful tango. She smiled back, one of those rare smiles that never failed to enrapture his fascination. Dancers moved out of the way for the perfect couple who weaved seamlessly through their ranks.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" he breathed, the air rushing past them as he pulled her into an unoccupied space left by the shifting masses. Almost instantly, he regretted letting those words leave his lips.

"Klavi taught me."An inkling of misery trickled into her gaze again and Apollo would have given anything to take her sorrow away.

He noticed that she began to make mistakes—only slight ones at first. Some of the steps she took were far too small and she was forced to compensate for them in an ungainly manner. At one point, her heels clipped the edge of his shoes and he almost tripped. She stammered an apology, but he could see it in her dull green eyes that her heart wasn't all there anymore. He wanted to keep her focused on him. He needed to. A part of him was morbidly afraid that if he let her go, she would leave his side forever and this magical night would only exist in his faded memories. There was still so much he wanted to say to her and he couldn't—mustn't let it end.

"Ema. Focus," he whispered to the auburn-haired goddess who had bowed her head to avoid his worried gaze. He felt her hand tighten around his and he responded with a firm squeeze of his own.

She didn't look as if she heard him. Her downcast eyes seemed to have suddenly taken a fascinating interest in their jiving feet.

He narrowed his eyes and gave a mysterious smile. So she was going to ignore him, huh? Tough luck, because he was the one leading this dance. He steered her towards a more open space on the floor; every moment was filled with a growing satisfaction that this night might very well end the way he wanted.

Ema wasn't aware of what he was doing until it was too late. She yelped in alarm as Apollo suddenly threw her into a dip, supported almost completely by the muscular young man. Several stunned seconds passed before she realized what kind of position they were in. His face hovered above her tastefully low cleavage, tickling with his breath the boundaries of soft flesh that he had never dared to trespass. His piercing stare, engulfed in shadows as he gazed down at her, drowned her hopelessly into its dark tumultuous depths. They stayed like this, as if time had stolen a moment to free itself from their lives before finally returning to its bodily bonds.

How could he tell her that he longed-he yearned for more than just a dance, and that in his dreams he dreamed of their sweaty entangled bodies and of her melodious voice that with a whisper of his name could shatter his innermost inhibitions?

"Uh-um, A-Apollo?"

She sounded so nervous. Had he scared her? His bracelet suddenly felt too small for his wrist. Awkwardly, he pulled her to her feet, steadying her as she swooned, and the starved contact with her skin sending sparks of painful electricity shooting through his empty nerves. Few people were still dancing. Everyone had their eyes on them. The music had already moved on with no one to grace it.

That same sweet voice brought him back to the cruel talons of reality. "T-thank you, Apollo. It was… a wonderful dance."

And before he could stop her, she was gone—out the door and down the stairs, the elegant clicking of her black heels fading into the soundless void. The wake she left was like a farewell kiss of a departing lover and the hole she left in his heart bled his love instead of tears. He felt eerily cold, like she had robbed him of both his sanity and his warmth and gave back nothing. The conclusion of his unattainable infatuation.

Apollo felt a tear slide down his cheek and splatter onto the floor where she had walked, where they had danced, and where he had wanted to confess his desire to be with her while she was still in his arms.

But it was too late.

She was gone.

Numbness slowly claimed his sanity for its own as he stood staring, the great mahogany doors swinging to a shut. Already the details of her existence tonight were slipping from his paralyzed mind's grasp. The fine contours of her hips underneath his fingers, the rush of her vanilla-scented perfume as they-

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder, a firm pull back into reality. He turned around and found himself face to face with Mr. Wright. His own tiny reflection in the ex-attorney's gaze, so miniscule and worthless, brought nothing but pain under Phoenix's gentle scrutiny. All his senses were telling him to run somewhere, shrivel up, and die.

"Aren't you going after her?"

Apollo looked away, his eyes shadowed and shoulders hunched in defeat. A dejected and empty shell discarded by the former glory that existed only minutes ago.

"No."

He looked Mr. Wright in the eye, his voice taking on a dead-pan tone as the twinkle in his eye flickered out and died.

"She never belonged to me."

Afterword: It would mean the world to me if you took the time to review, ja? :D