Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everything is cold.

That was the first thing Apo had noticed since she had been turned.

Her hands, the clothes on her back, the wooden boards beneath her body; it was all freezing.

It made sense logically, they supposed; vampires don’t have a pulse, they don’t need one. No circulation runs through their veins, heart gone stagnant, blood nothing but waste as long as it’s inside a body, and that went for a vampire themselves.

And Apo hated every second of it.

Every minute movement of a muscle felt wrong, like their existence had defied the laws of Mother Nature herself, and yet she wasn’t merciful enough to just end their life already. Everything about Apo was inherently unnatural now; from the newly pointed ends of her canines, the way her skin wasn’t flush with life, all the way down to how vacant her expressions felt.

The differences between human and vampire were so obvious once they had noticed it in themself, and it honestly only made them feel even more foolish for not believing in the first place—gazing at the pale emptiness of their own flesh, wondering how in the Lord’s name she hadn’t seen it anywhere else, not in Scott, not in Pyro, not in anyone—

She hadn’t gotten up from off the floor since returning home.

It was rather childish of a reaction, and she was well aware of it, but she had just been bitten in the neck and had her humanity forcefully taken from her forever, so maybe she deserved to be a little immature at the moment.

Slowly, they curled their legs a little closer to their core where they were laying on their side, a feeble attempt at chasing body heat that no longer existed, and the thought wracked a sob through their entire body.

At the edge of their hearing, they could almost faintly make out the clank of boots against a hallway, generals barking orders, can’t go crying now can’t let them see don’t show weakness backing down in the face of danger what would your country think—

Tears began to slowly make their way down Apo’s face, and they quickly brought a sleeve up to wipe them away, but the offending liquid just kept falling and falling.
The more she tried to fight them the more they built up, and she whined in frustration as sniffles started to creep up through her stale lungs.

She was completely alone. No matter what they did, they were destined to be alone. No one was coming to save them.

The military wouldn’t take her back, not after what she had become; Hell, the town probably wouldn’t even let her stay much longer, not with the hysteria and paranoia at an all time high, everyone was alert and aware of the signs of vampires now.

Apo desperately wanted that fact to be reassuring, that their fellow townspeople were actively trying to keep themselves safe, but wasn’t that supposed to be their job? The one from the army, the one trained and made to protect ripped from their position by teeth yanking at their neck—

“Apo?” She quickly made herself quiet at the sound of a stern voice, muffled from the barrier of her door but still too close for comfort.

She could tell it was Cleo from the tone alone, and Apo knew for a fact they were a human; had been one of the few everyone seemed to trust. They still knew virtually nothing about what being a vampire made them capable of, and the thought of that made a horrible feeling pool in their gut.

There was the sound of a fist rapping once against the door, and Apo held herself as still as physically possible; “Can I come in?”

A question. They were asking for permission to enter.

That… was odd. Cleo is a human, surely, she wouldn’t need permission to enter the house, she must just be trying to be polite—

“If you don’t say yes I’m breaking the door down.”

“O-okay!” Her voice came out weak, bordering on a sob, and she added in almost a whisper, “You can come in…”

They weren’t facing the door, but the sound of it swinging open and then slamming shut rattled through the empty home, and they whimpered involuntarily at the noise. They imagined there would’ve been a cool breeze that had managed to sneak into the building if they were capable of feeling anything anymore.

Cleo’s footsteps were heavy, and stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, right behind Apo’s back where she tried her best to curl in on herself more.

“Apo,” Cleo’s voice remained firm, but not unkind, “Are you crying?”

No response came from where she had managed to bury her face in her knees, but she heard the floorboards creak as the shadow of her visitor kneeled down closer.

“C’mon. Pull yourself together,” A firm hand landed on their shoulder, and Apo was suddenly unbelievably grateful that their uniform came with a high collar that hid their neck from direct sight, “I know you’re one of the strongest people here. You can get up.”

The reassurance only made more tears slip free, “I-I… I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” The hand on her shoulder gave a quick shake for emphasis, but Apo didn’t have the heart to move anymore. They wanted to rot on the floor where they could never hurt anyone ever.

Clearly, that intention had come across, because after a moment Cleo let out an exasperated sigh, and Apo watched forlorn as the shadow stood back up and the hand disappeared.

Silence rattled its way through the cabin, only interrupted by Apo’s quiet sniffles and Cleo’s steady breathing behind them. She was certain they just going to leave after receiving no response—afterall, it wasn’t like Apo was terribly close to anyone in the town except for Pyro who was long gone; no one would really care if she just disappeared—but to her slight horror, a leg came into view, and soon the rest of Cleo followed suit as they stepped over her form and turned to face her.

“Apo,” Her tone came off bordering on a warning as they knelt back down, gaze piercing straight into her own.

“I can’t,” She clenched her hands where they were bundled up against her chest, frustrated at the lack of color in her knuckles, “I’ll… I’ll hurt you.”

A snort came from above her, “Hurt me how? I can defend myself perfectly fine, thank you.”

A shiver wracked its way through Apo’s spine, trying their hardest not to think about teeth puncturing their flesh, being so confident they could take Scott on their own with no consequences oh how naïve of them—

Their silence stretched on for another beat, before something in the air shifted, Cleo’s demeanor quickly dropping as they muttered out, “O-oh… oh, Apo…”

Hands were suddenly on them—cold hands—and before they could call out in panic, the collar of their shirt had been stretched away from their neck, revealing two matching ugly wounds marring their skin.

“It’s not what it looks like!” The world around them blurred as they suddenly sat up as best as possible, slipping free from Cleo’s slack grip as their expression went completely blank, and before she could process it, she was being enveloped in a tight hug.

The wind had been completely punched from Apo’s lungs, and all they could do was sit there as Cleo pressed their face into their hair, “They got me too.”

…w-what? That couldn’t be possible, Cleo was an excellent fighter, couldn’t have gotten caught today of all days (sharp pain radiating through your whole body never felt fear like this before—) surely, surely this was a misunderstanding… (cold hands, asked to enter, thought you could defend yourself too—)

A guttural sob worked its way out of Apo’s throat as they desperately clung to Cleo back, shaking hand pushing its way underneath auburn curls revealing wounds just like theirs, and Apo let themself cry like they hadn’t in years.

Cleo’s grip was firm and steady as Apo burrowed into their shoulder, felt a little bad at getting tears on their dress and tried to pull away a little before a hand came up on the back of their head to pull them back in, effectively scooping them up off the floor and onto Cleo’s lap with the other.

She hadn’t had any sort of physical contact like this in… Lord, she doesn’t know how long, but it feels better than they could’ve imagined even when neither of their bodies are creating heat, still feels safe in Cleo’s hold where they wail muffled against them.

There’s a gentle shushing being pressed into the crown of their head, and she tries her best to make her crying quieter while she grips into the fabric around Cleo for dear life.

It’s admittedly very nice to feel like someone else is trying to take care of you—and something Apo is incredibly unused to since enlisting, even as an architect—the idea making something in the back of her brain feel floaty and fuzzy, like it’s been wrapped up in a massive blanket.

After a few more moments of silence, Apo finally whispers out, “S-Scott got me…”

Cleo doesn’t say anything, just presses her nose more into Apo’s hair, and their breath hitches as they continue, “I… I thought I killed him but then—then I asked him to. I didn’t realize it would go like… t-this—“

Another sob wracks its way through her, and silence stretches its way between the pair for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

Apo’s muscles have started to give out on her after all that crying, and they carefully move their hands back towards themself, find one of Cleo’s and she lets her gently trace over blank pale knuckles. A bittersweet part of her brain informs her that the two match horribly well.

“I stand by what I said, y’know,” Cleo’s voice is softer, but still carries the same sense of authority, “That you’re one of the strongest people here.

“If anyone could get through… turning…” Carefully, they flip over Apo’s hand to trace the lines of their palm, “It’d be you.”

Sitting here, curled up against Cleo, sat on the floor of a cabin just as lifeless as Apo’s veins and feeling impossibly small, they don’t think they could ever come to believe that.

But… maybe hearing it come out of someone else’s mouth, they can convince themself to try.

“I think,” Apo twists slightly so they can look up at Cleo’s face, “I think you’re one of the strongest people here, too.”

After a beat of hesitation, Cleo gives her a tiny sad smile, something dark clouding over their eyes, like maybe they had the same thought on their own.

Apo smiles back.

“Come on, now,” There’s shifting from underneath them as Cleo gently slides them back down onto the floor, “We can go hunt some cows together. No one will suspect anything as long as we’re a pair.”

Cleo stands first, brushing her hands off on the length of her dress, and offers a hand out to Apo.

They take the firm olive branch with something small blooming in the bottom of their stomach;

Hope.