An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Preview: There’s a knowing look in Klavier’s eyes, like he understands Apollo a little better than either of them expects. “You’re not really the poetic type, Herr Forehead. I can easily imagine you worrying over your soulmate being a romantic.”
And well, Apollo did worry over the type of person his soulmate would be, but he’s too disoriented with the evening to think much about his answer. “I did worry. Actually, I wished that my soulmate could just be my cat.”
Klavier laughs, a throaty sound that catches Apollo completely off-guard. “Your soulmate is one lucky person,” he teases.
Apollo flushes again. “That doesn’t really matter in a relationship, does it? Love has nothing to do with romance.”
Klavier puts his chin in his palm again and leans forward, looking up at Apollo through his eyelashes. It’s perhaps the most calculated look Apollo has ever received— he can feel the way it’s meant to absolutely pierce him through. “Now there’s a sentence made to break a romantic’s heart.”
