Chapter Text
The next time Martyn woke up, the world seemed to dull and too bright all at the same time. His eyes didn’t adjust to the light quickly so he just sat there until everything finally levelled out.
Once his vision had returned, he looked around. He saw Cleo sitting next to him leaned against a tree, they looked towards Oakhurst. Or at least what they could make out through the leaves. Even from where Martyn was he could smell the horrid scent of ash ans burnt that come off of the what was left of the wall.
Martyn tried to speak to them, however, his voice painfully failed him. All he managed to get out was a couple struggled grunts. This caused them to look at him.
Cleo’s green eyes shined at him like disco balls, emanating relief. They obviously hadn’t realised he was awake yet. They gave him a slight nod. He noticed their hand reaching towards him. Martyn didn’t back away even if he was slightly scared.
When Cleo’s hand reached him, they gently squeezed his shoulder.
He was slightly tense but again, chose not to pull away. As they did this they stared intensely at him, he shrunk under their gaze.
If he was being honest with himself, he was quite scared of Cleo after seeing what they had done to Pyro. It wasn’t there anymore, probably washed away by the rain, but he could still recall how fucked up they had looked.
When Martyn shifted on the uncomfortable grass, he felt that there was something around his leg where his cut from Scott lay.
What?
Oh!
Cleo had bandaged his leg. With what supplies he wasn’t sure but it had happened. He thought about saying thanking them or something along those lines but he ultimately decided to not speak. Silence was always better.
He ended up laid on his front using his arms as a pillow. He looked at Cleo who looked as if they might have wanted to say something but decided against it.
Then Martyn thought about what had just happened, really thought about it. It had all happened so fast he hadn’t really had time to think about what happened. Oakhurst had burnt down, Scott scratched his leg and he killed Apo…
permanently.
He is just the same as his father. Just the same as every man in his bloodline since the incident.
Tears dared to fall down his bruised face.
No,
No!
He wouldn’t cry! He wouldn’t let the curse take control.
He would not!
Very suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts when, he heard angry voices directed toward him.
“That was some insane bullshit, doncha know?” Ren said, adjusting his glasses.
“You killed Apo!” Drift shouted, slight heartbreak tinged her voice.
“I know what the fucking hell?!” Avid added, throwing his arms up theatrically.
Martyn knew what he had done was wrong, he didn’t need them to point it out. All three of them continued to shout at him. All he could think about was Apo, she had been working with Oakhurst, no wonder the townsfolk were so angry. They had cared about her - and Martyn killed her.
Tears once again threatened to fall down his face. He wouldn’t allow it, Martyn wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t weak.
But their screaming reminded him of when his father banged his head against a wall… Fuck. Why did he have to be reminded of that?!
He tried to move away from the trio, however, was reminded of how useless
and pathetic his body was.
“Would all of you just leave him the fuck alone?” Cleo’s voice was animalistic and came out as more of a growl than anything else. It hurt his head as if the shouting from the three muskamorons wasn’t annoying enough. Everybody was stunned to silence by their tone.
Martyn’s head pounded.
Avid gave them a long stare, “You side with him? He killed Apo!” Avid looked so exasperated, like he was talking to a foolish child.
“Leave.”
The tension between them was visible but clearly Ren had some sense and told Avid it wasn’t worth it. Oakhurst had suffered enough and Cleo clearly wasn’t in a very good head space right now. Ren whisked round to face the other two, and the trio begrudgingly made their way back.
Once they were out of sight, Cleo looked at Martyn. They looked… Concerned?
Why?
He decided to ask them something, ”Cleo,” he inhaled deeply, “Are you alright?”
It felt a bit of a stupid question to ask, Cleo was clearly not okay. Martyn was genuinely concerned for them because they didn’t look okay. They stared at him, taking too long for Martyn’s liking to think of an answer.
“I’m fine!” They eventually snapped not looking at him. Martyn unwillingly flinched, slightly backing away but tried to play it off as shifting in his spot.
Cleo’s eyes widened before they fixed their expression. “Sorry,” their voice was only slightly above a whisper, if he hadn’t been so on edge he would have missed it.
When they had said that they looked at him for a second before looking away again. Why were they sorry? There was no reason to apologise. So why did they?
His mind raced with questions like these.
Martyn didn’t reply, he didn’t know how to feel or what to say.