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The two sat next to each other in the scorched field next to the remains of Oakhurst. Apo was busy fletching arrows while Martyn sharpened his sword.
They worked in silence, both of them exhausted from the weeks of torment, all finally coming to a head. Apo spared a look up at Martyn. His face was stern with concentration, the rich boy allure forgotten in the moment. His hands moved like a worker, they had already been calloused and dirty when they all first arrived in Oakhurst, and they hadn’t gotten any softer.
His bright blue eyes were a final comfort to Apo, in a place where most of the people you look at are red and cruel and you haven’t seen the sky through the clouds since you arrived, Martyn was a respite.
The chance that one, if not both of them weren’t going to leave Oakhurst was devastatingly high, especially with the vampires taking no prisoners anymore, Martyn had a huge target on his back, the thought made Apo growl a little.
Martyn looked over at her after a beat, not any more tense than he had been a moment ago.
“Wot?”
“Nothing, just— worried.” Martyn’s hands stilled as he kept looking at her, Apo’s white hair falling over her eyes. He reached over, not pulling back when Apo shied briefly, and tucked it behind her ear.
He returned to his work after that, Apo trying to follow his lead but after a couple minutes of broken sticks she spoke up again.
“Martyn, are you going back to anyone when this is all over?” She could see his face move into something like surprise for a second before that practiced grin came back.
“I’m going to go back home to Papa, what kind of a question is that?”
“Martyn,” Apo practically begged, things like fury and tears came easier these days, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with Martyn’s lies, “I know that whole ‘Papa’ thing is a lie, either of us could die anytime, will you just be honest with me for once?”
She returned to her arrows, chunks of wood falling next to her in piles as her emotions made her heavy handed. If Martyn was gonna choose to be a pain in the ass in these final days then that’s his choice. Apo has tried her best to help this man and she can only do so much for the blond little—
“No, not really.” Apo raised her head in surprise, not expecting Martyn to answer her question.
“What?”
“I don’t have anyone waiting for me.” Martyn was telling the truth, the annoying self-centred energy was gone from him.
“No family or anything?”
“My father left when I was a toddler,” he began, “wanted to be an actor or something. My mother tried her best to care for me but she got sick when I was a teenager, when she died the house got repossessed.” Martyn talked with casualty, still running the rasp over the body of the sword.
“I didn’t want to be a choir boy, so I ended up on the streets and kind of just cheated my way into surviving. Oakhurst is kind of nice in that way, I don’t have to think about it.” He raised the sword up to the sky, running his finger softly over the sharpened blade.
“Come home with me,” Apo offered, resting her head on her knees, “Me and Cherri have a spare room, you could find a job.”
Martyn laughed, the unserious veil returning.
“Yeah right, trust me I’ve tried, I’m a wanderer at heart,” he joked, standing up and sheathing the sword.
Apo collected the small pile of arrows she’d managed to make for the humans.
“The offers still open.” Apo moved to rub against Martyn’s shoulder as they walked towards the remaining rubble of the town.
“I’ll think about it,” and then he smiled at Apo, something true, with no cheeky undertone, and Apo smiled back, a little bit more hopeful for the battle that was inevitable to come.
Apo never got an answer from him, she thought about their conversation as she stood a couple metres away from the hole Sausage and Cleo were lowering the shared casket into. Apo was taking him home with her in some way, the real Martyn. Martyn no name, who had nobody and cared for nothing, except her, she hoped quietly as she turned away from the gathering, feeling their eyes on her as she walked off.