Chapter Text
In spite of everything, spring still arrives.
Of course it does. Apo knows how seasons work. Time doesn’t stop just because something terrible happens. And it doesn’t stop when something good happens.
Spring came after Fernsfield. It can come after Oakhurst, too.
And with it comes the spring festival.
The festival’s not huge, but it’s bigger than Apo’s little town can fit. They’ll have to take the train there.
Because Apo’s going. She is going.
Even if Cherri questions her resolve. Rude.
“You know we can have our own festival at home. We can dance just as well there,” Cherri assures casually. “And I love it when you play the cello for me.”
“I’m fine,” Apo intones.
At Cherri’s flat look, Apo realizes she probably sounded not fine there.
“I mean it,” Apo promises. “Just because we skipped it after Fernsfield doesn’t mean we have to skip it this time.”
Apo knows how much Cherri wants to go. Cherri’s just being coy because of what happened to Apo, and that’s not fair.
Cherri crosses their arms. “You just haven’t been around people much since you got back.”
“I have, too!” Apo protests. “We’re shopping right now!”
“You’ve gone invisible three times today.”
…This proves nothing.
It’s harder to be around people than it was after Fernsfield. There’s something physically different about Apo now. The town’s small, and gossip spreads. Thankfully, Cherri’s beloved in town, so people accept whatever story she weaves together. The white hair, the paleness, the veil for the sun… all of it can be waved away. At least for now. The weather’s getting better, which means more social interaction. Which means more questions. Ugh.
At least the festival is out of town. More strangers, even if just as many odd looks.
Apo’s just lucky her eyes already read as red. That would’ve been the worst thing to explain away.
Anyway, the veiled sunhat will do wonders at the festival. Cherri always insists on making the outfits, so they’re just shopping for accessories. The current store has a lot of little nicknacks.
In Apo’s opinion, she’s being very normal about shopping. So Cherri has nothing to criticize. The invisibility is literally fine.
Apo huffs. “Then I’ll just be at stage one so I can’t do that. I should be that anyway. It’s less suspicious.”
Being at her weakest feels less safe, but it’s also the closest Apo can get to being human again. Give and take.
“...I want him to see it,” Apo eventually mumbles. “We can leave if any of us want to. But I just… I really want him to see the festival.”
Cherri sighs. “I know, apple pie. I think it’d be good for him too.”
With Legs, it’s sometimes hard to know when he’s just denying himself happiness or when he’s actually not having a good time. Maybe something like the festival can help Apo learn how to tell the difference. Or maybe it’d confuse her more. Anything goes.
“It’s just one day,” Apo placates. “Not even. I’ll be fine. It’ll be good.”
While Cherri says something about Apo’s inside thoughts being obvious, Apo spots something in the collection of handmade pins.
It’s a pin of a potato flower. Apo tilts her head at it.
“Apo Kuna?” Cherri is suddenly peering over Apo’s shoulder.
“Cherri Fire, should I get this for Legs?” Apo blurts.
Cherri gives the pin a solid look. “If you wanna.”
Apo wavers. “You don’t think it’s… weird? To give someone a pin of a flower that you painted on their grave?”
“Nah, I think it’s cute,” Cherri approves like the weirdo she is.
Well, Legs thinks Apo’s weird enough already. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that.
The pin is purchased.
-
---
-
The mirror is as empty as always.
Apo doesn’t really feel surprised anymore. She doesn’t really feel anything. There’s a numbness that starts in her neck and travels outwards.
Whatever. Whatever. Apo doesn’t need to see her own reflection. All she’d be able to focus on is her white hair and fangs and deathly pale skin, anyway. Not the body that she tried so hard to make her own, something she could be proud of, that now feels so strange to her.
It’s better that she needs to go find someone else for this.
Of course, Apo’s first instinct is Cherri. The outfit is Cherri’s design. Her call.
But maybe someone else needs to feel useful right now.
Apo knocks on the open door to Legundo’s room. “Can I come in?”
Legs turns from the desk, a slight smile spreading on his face. “It’s your house, Apo.”
“Yeah, it’s your room, though.” Apo shrugs helplessly. “Vampire rules.”
It does feel a little more like a personalized room lately, rather than just the guest room, even if Cherri and Apo basically have to drag Legs kicking and screaming into getting some damn personal touches. But hey. He has a potted plant now.
“I don’t think rooms qualify as a different space for invitations,” Legs argues lightly, but he rises and crosses nearer to her. “Come in. What can I do for you?”
“Can you be my mirror?” Apo gestures at their new outfit. “How do I look?”
There’s a quiet mildness in Legs’s eye that Apo wishes would stay there. It probably won’t. Things will always change. Still, Apo hopes they see that softness again. It looks good on him.
“Wouldn’t Cherri be better suited for that? It is her design,” Legs notes. Christ, is there an echo in here?
“She’ll give me notes whether I ask for them or not,” Apo says dryly. “I wanted you.”
Legs exhales. “Well, I’ll do my best.”
While Legs gives his best advice, Apo tries out the new outfit. Knee-length marigold dress, nicer shoes, veiled sunhat with marigold flowers. Her hair is up and hidden by the hat and veil, so hopefully no one will even bother staring at her. She spins, feels the fabric, fiddles with accessories. It’s when Legs helps her clasp a necklace in the back, his hands brushing against her neck, that she remembers.
“My scar,” Apo mumbles. “I should… I should do something with it, right? I don’t know how I’d explain it.”
Behind her, Legs pauses. “We all have our scars. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for them. Besides, yours is not easy to notice.”
Well, he’d know, wouldn’t he? Still… it feels different with a scar so odd. Two precise pinpricks in her neck.
Legs finishes with the necklace and moves to face Apo. He tugs down his shirt collar, and truly becomes Apo’s mirror. “If it makes you feel any better, we match.”
Apo touches the raised bumps on her neck and swallows back the awful taste of blood. “Yeah…”
“You look fine, Apo,” Legs assures. “It’ll be alright.”
“Thank you,” Apo murmurs. “It’s just… nice. Cherri made my dress in Oakhurst, so… it’s nice that you get to see something else they made on me.”
And wear something, too. Doc looks nice in the outfit Cherri gifted him. It’s still his usual style of a button up, pants, and waistcoat, but the waistcoat is a spring green.
Doc raises his chin in realization. “No wonder you held onto the outfit.”
Apo snorts. “Yeah, and even if it wasn’t Cherri’s gift, why the hell would I want to wear Scott’s clothes? Gross.”
In solidarity, Doc chuckles. “I’m glad I didn’t have the opportunity for a costume change.”
“Not until now, right? You look good.” Apo tilts their head to get a different view. “And your hair’s a little longer.”
“Oh.” Doc brushes his fingers at the end of his close-cropped hair. “That’s… true. There wasn’t any opportunity to trim it in Oakhurst, or after…”
“Well, you could always grow it out,” Apo notes.
Doc drops the hand and huffs in amusement. “I’ve always had it short.”
“I think it’d look good longer. You’re due for a change,” Apo offers. “But you can do what you want.”
Legs hums in thought distantly.
“Oh, um…” Apo reaches into the dress pocket. “Here. I saw this when Cherri and I went out.”
Apo gets out the homemade potato flowers trinket and wiggles it so Legs can get a look before she pins it to his chest.
At the gesture, Legs’s shoulders move back. They’re close enough that Apo feels his heartrate pick up.
Glancing up at him, Apo notes his raised eyebrows. “Doc? You good?”
His throat moves. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” Find it, is it the flower? The closeness of something sharp? Apo’s claws? Or…
It hits her like a bullet through the skull.
Avoiding Legs’s eye, Apo focuses on the pin and tries to pretend she can’t imagine the medal in its place.
“It’s very thoughtful,” Legs says eventually, a rawness in his throat that he clears.
Apo swallows back the taste of death. “Listen, it’s- You- You don’t have to wear it. But I got it because I wanted to, not because of anything you did, and you can do what you want with it, so…”
“Apo.” Legs’s hand is on their shoulder. “It’s just a pin. Thank you.”
“Mhm.” Apo doesn’t meet his eyes. She doesn’t know what she’d see there, and she’s not going to find out.
There might be more words exchanged. Reassurances. But it’s like hearing underwater. Apo manages to bid some kind of farewell and ducks out of Legs’s room, out of the house, into the backyard where she turns into a swarm of bats and loops back into some small corner of the house’s roof. One where no one can find her.
Clinging to the perch, Apo tucks their head between their wings. Were they making too big a deal out of it? Legs is right, it’s just a pin. And if he didn’t have a problem with it – which Apo doubts because it’s Legs, but for the sake of the argument – then Apo shouldn’t either, right?
Except no. Apo has a fucking problem with it. Not as unfeeling towards it as they thought.
What Legs did was someone’s Fernsfield. And there wasn’t just one survivor, like with Fernsfield. Who knows how many people are left with memories of corpses on the street, of friends crying out, because of one decision that was celebrated afterward? At least, from what Apo can tell, Legs stays away from the people he hurt. That’s more than some can say.
Apo can imagine the mass graves. The nightmares. The pain. They’ve lived it. Not to the degree of that town, because Apo saw the fucking number, but the memories are still embedded in their spine.
Legs did that to people. And it makes Apo sick, because even so, they know he’s changed. That despite everything, he still deserves the chance to live his life and get better and find peace.
It’s too much. It’s just too much.
But it’s not the little pin’s fault that Legs was rewarded for what he did decades ago. The pin is from Apo, because she saw something that reminded her of her friend. The one who swore he’d never be that man again.
And Apo trusts that he won’t be. If it ever looks headed that way, then Apo will make sure it stops at all costs. No matter what it takes.
Full of promises, Apo nearly unfurls herself and continues getting ready.
But first, she glances at the graveyard in the backyard, wraps her wings tighter around herself, and lets grief wash over her.
-
---
-
There are so. Many. People.
Look, Apo had been around the same thirteen people for months. Then, even when she got home, it was winter. Not exactly a lot of people willing to hang around outside. But here?
At the spring festival, there’s an actual crowd.
So many lives. So many beating hearts.
Apo wonders how many of them are looking at her. How many could figure out that she’s a vampire. And she can’t even tell herself that it’s silly to think like that, because there were people like Abolish and Cleo who just knew about vampires and pretended they didn’t. Who’s to say someone in this crowd isn’t a part of Abolish’s organization? That she’ll be monitored, watched like a ticking timebomb until the day she and Cherri die together?
A poke in Apo’s side startles them, and they flinch.
“Woah there,” calms Cherri, the poker. “You seemed lost.”
Cherri looks as captivating as always, in another outfit she made herself. She’s taken to pink, the ensemble’s color melding with the surrounding spring decorations.
“I’m okay,” Apo assures. “Just… There’s a lot of people, you know?”
From Apo’s other side, Doc watches. “You let us know if you’re uncomfortable.”
Something in Apo’s annoyed at that. “Yeah, same to you, okay?” she reminds him.
Doc acknowledges the statement without looking like he really adapted it into his belief system. Fucker.
He’s still wearing the pin. Apo doesn’t know how to feel about that.
Cherri leans in close, and Apo shivers feeling her breath against their ear. She’s alive.
“Don’t forget, Apo Kuna. I have a stake on me. And garlic. And everything else I need. So you have nothing to worry about. You just enjoy yourself and we’ll try to get that one to have fun, yeah?”
Apo nods stiffly. “Thank you. I… That really helps, darling. It does.”
In response, Apo receives a hand squeeze and a wink. “You can count on me.”
That’s all Apo wanted to hear.
They reach the festival proper, and even as the crowd presses in, Apo makes themself stop and absorb the setting around them.
Because they made it. They went to the spring festival, hand in hand with Cherri, and Doc came with them.
With that revelation spurring them on, the group explores the festival for a while. So many bright colors. Laughter in the streets. It’s lively, flourishing, joyous. Everything Oakhurst could’ve been, and everything it wasn’t. Apo hopes she’s not misjudging the quiet intrigue in Doc’s face as he takes the sight in for the first time. The banners, the flowers, the music, the food…
“It’s your stand, Apo Kuna!” Cherri cheers.
Speaking of food, they eventually find the candy apples. Fuck yeah.
Cherri pulls Apo along, and Apo grabs Doc by the wrist to drag him with.
“Three-” Apo breaks off. “Two, please.”
While Cherri pays, Apo wonders what the vendor thinks about the slip-up. Did Apo’s fangs poke out when she grimaced?
They get their candy apples. Everyone says their thank yous, and Apo passes the thing she should be able to eat to Legs while they walk to a spot by some festive flower beds.
Ugh, and now Legs is staring at her with that sad old dog look that he does.
“Apo,” and god she hates it when he sounds like that. Apo hopes Cherri isn’t also staring.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s so fine,” Apo mumbles. She reaches to dig around in the bag slung over Legs’s shoulder and finds the canteen. Swinging it back, she clenches her throat at the taste of chicken blood.
Apo watches the sky. At first, they try to focus on the blood, but that just feels worse, so they have to drop the attempt and check on their companions.
And Legs is totally still staring at her.
“Just eat them, I knew I wasn’t going to eat anything here anyway,” Apo eventually gets out.
Cherri pats Apo’s shoulder and eats their candy apple, and glares at Doc until he follows suit. Thankfully, the candy apple is good enough that his eyebrows lift and he keeps eating it without being weird.
Apo heaves a dead sigh, but tries to keep it muffled into the mouth of the flask. It’s going to be different coming here from now on. But there was no way around it. Just calm down.
If she drinks the blood, she’ll have a clearer head. Don’t lose control. Cherri is here. Legs is here. They won’t let anything happen. Apo trusts them to do what’s right.
Okay. Apo is okay. And they need to make sure that their companions know that.
“They should really be selling this stuff at the food stalls,” Apo comments idly, shaking the flask of chicken blood. “They’d make a killing.”
Thank god that gets a laugh out of Doc, and an amused elbow to Apo’s side from Cherri. Fuck yeah. Mood successfully not ruined by Apo.
While Cherri and Legs pick the conversation back up, Apo lets their eyes shut for a moment. It’s good that Cherri and Legs can still eat here. Legs especially, since if things had gone differently, he could’ve still been a vampire. Or buried in that shithole Oakhurst forever, never escaping from six feet under.
Apo wants Legs to keep living. And Legs will probably just keep doing it out of that need of his to be useful, but it’s better than nothing. Owen doesn’t get to take this chance away from Legs. Scott can’t ever fucking take it away from Apo. They’ll keep growing, keep changing, in spite of Oakhurst.
Maybe one day there will be a festival where the mark on Apo’s neck won’t even hurt. It’s a nice thought, if nothing else.
There’s music in the square, and once everyone’s done eating, Apo drifts towards the melody. Cherri’s close behind her.
A joyful song begins, and Apo feels that same spite, that same determination, fill her with conviction.
Holding out a hand, Apo asks with attempted fanfare, “Can I have this dance, my lady?”
Cherri’s lopsided smile is radiant. “Always.”
Doc lingers nearby among the spectators, urging them forward. Apo takes Cherri’s hand, and her gaze lingers on their wrist. It’s littered with bite marks, matching the ones that Scott and Pyro gave Apo back near the crypt.
The scars are because of Apo. Apo did this to Cherri.
“Hey, eh-eh,” Cherri tuts. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, Apo Kuna.”
“Sorry.” Apo feels Cherri’s hand on their waist. They meet her eye.
And then they dance.
For once, for the first time in months, the sigh that leaves Apo doesn’t feel lifeless. The hum of panting, sweating, aching life around her is vibrantly infectious. Apo’s feet hit the ground, in time with the music, the rhythm under her skin.
There is warmth here.
The dance breathes and changes. Cherri lifts Apo up and twirls her around, and Apo does the same in turn. They find each other’s hands and trace up the matching bite marks, interweaved into each other.
The song ends with Apo being dipped, and of course Cherri lowers her head to kiss them. Apo tastes their beloved and lets themself feed on this moment, this perfect frame of messy joy. They chase after Cherri when she raises them up to their feet.
“Okay, lovergirl, I’m gonna have to ask you to pause. I’m thirsty after that, and I think someone else needs a dance.” Cherri cocks her head.
To the side, Doc’s hands are together in the aftermath of applauding for the dance.
As the next song picks up, Apo recognizes it. The tempo is frantic enough that her friend won’t be able to second guess this. Cherri pushes Apo along and Apo grabs Doc’s hand.
“Hm?” Doc lets out, bewildered.
“Dance with me?” Apo asks.
“Oh, I have two left feet,” Doc dissuades.
Apo shrugs. “You don’t have to. But I thought it’d be fun. Come on, old man.”
Doc huffs. “Maybe just a song.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Carefully, Apo takes Legs’s calloused hands in her own and leads him towards the music.
Apo dances with Legs, and okay, he was not kidding about two left feet. But Apo couldn’t care less, because when they nearly trip and fall on top of each other, Legs barks out a laugh. It’s like bells. Apo laughs with him and keeps them moving, the song electrifying her.
Love emerges from her tapping feet. The restored life in front of her makes her heart almost feel like it’s beating again.
The next song is slower, and to Apo’s surprise, Doc doesn’t immediately drag them off the dance floor after his promised one song. They keep stepping around each other, hands clasped together, and Apo catches the relief on Doc’s face at the sudden decrease in tempo.
“You doing okay?” she checks.
“Yes,” Legs huffs. His hands are sweaty in Apo’s hold. “I don’t dance often.”
“Well, now you can.” Underarm turn. Careful steps. No hitting the other’s foot. “Cherri and I like going here every year. So… I’m really glad you could come with.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Legundo says in politeness. “It’s quite the event.”
“Yeah, just…” Apo drops their gaze. “I’m just really glad you’re here, you know?”
There’s a pause from Legs. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says eventually.
The song ends, and Apo doesn’t want to let go. She leads Legs away from the square so they’re out of the way and tightens her hold on his hands.
He’s looking at her, in that awful pitying way that he does. “Apo?”
Apo can’t look at him, so she pulls him into an embrace and buries her face in his shoulder.
“Are you having fun?” Apo mumbles into Legs’s shirt. “And don’t lie. Don’t do that thing you do.”
“What thing?” Doc asks. He gingerly hugs Apo back.
This guy. “That thing where you say something you don’t really mean just to make a conversation go your way. You start talking really incredulously.”
“When have I done that?” Doc asks incredulously.
Apo just scoffs.
“...Alright, I hear it,” Legs relents. “Just because I can… ease my words to try and help, that doesn’t mean I’m insincere.”
“…I guess so.” Apo leans against her friend. “I just never know if you mean anything.”
A quietness. “I’m… sorry.”
The hug’s probably gone on for too long. Apo never knows when that threshold has been reached, but just to be safe, they end the embrace. Still, they hold Doc’s palms, because keeping him close is like holding water in her hands.
One of his hands is gently pulled away, and Apo feels it on their shoulder. It briefly moves up to tilt their chin towards Doc, then drops back down to the shoulder.
“I am having fun,” Doc promises, an ease in his face that doesn’t come easily. “Thank you for today, Apo.”
“Yeah. Anytime,” Apo chokes out. “Let’s take it easy, okay? We can find Cherri and see how we’re feeling.”
Doc dips his head into a nod. When they start moving, Doc doesn’t break away when Apo keeps holding his hand.
There’s a worry under Apo’s skin that pulses the more they look for Cherri. It feels like whenever a townsperson went missing, or that dread at the barrier, but Apo just tries to focus on the warmth from Doc’s hand and the life around them.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’ll be fine, they’ll find Cherri, they won’t lose her too-
“Yoo-hoo!” resonates from somewhere to the side.
Oh thank fucking god, it’s Cherri.
Cherri waves as Legs and Apo meet her, holding a couple drinks in the crook of her elbow. “Hey, you two. Did you have fun out there?”
“Yes,” Legs answers dutifully.
Apo mumbles something in agreement, but there’s more important things to talk about. “I thought you’d come back to spectate after you got your drink.”
There’s a dramatic sigh from Cherri. They pass one drink to Legs, and he thanks them. “I was gonna, but the line for my stuff was so long. It took forever. By the time I got out with my order, I didn’t see you dancing. So I figured we’d find each other.”
“I thought you got lost,” Apo blurts, hoping their tone isn’t too tense.
“We found each other,” Legs reassures.
“Yeah, we’re all accounted for,” Cherri adds. She blinks at Apo, and Apo ducks their head. “Well, I got my drink. We got our food and dance. We saw some sights. Anyone else want to call it here?”
Apo swallows. “I’m good to go if everyone else is.”
“Let’s go home,” Legs agrees.
Home?
Apo feels her dead heart catch in her throat.
It doesn’t mean anything. Doc flippantly called Oakhurst home back when they were there. Apo did the same thing. It just meant the place where they were sleeping for the time. That’s obvious.
…Still, Apo shivers.
They’re going home. The three of them.
Again and again, as many times as they need to, they can always make their way home.
-
---
-
Cherri’s asleep by the time the train home starts up.
Apo holds the unconscious Cherri’s hand and sighs. They look out the window, past Legundo, who’s on their other side. Apo’s been in the middle a lot today. It’s nice to be able to grab onto their companions and lead them away if anything happens.
Outside vibrates with life. The sun’s setting. The next day will come, and the next, and the next…
Distantly, Apo runs her thumb along Cherri’s hand. She turns from the horizon to her once enemy, once ally, once sacrifice, current housemate. Her friend. Legs is also staring out the window, looking contemplative. He usually is.
“What are you thinking about?” Apo murmurs.
Legs doesn’t look away from the window. “Nothing in particular.”
In dissatisfaction, Apo hums. She traces over the age in Legs’s face and wishes she could still age like that. Maybe she still can in spirit, but not in body. Unless the improbable happens and Apo can get cured. But it’s… good that Legs can still age.
“I suppose I’m writing a letter in my head,” Legs eventually admits.
“Yeah?”
Legs nods minutely. “Cleo’s been… I’m thankful that she and I can still communicate.”
Right, thankful that Apo didn’t ruin what they have. Legs shouldn’t have to choose between two friends. If he considers himself and Apo friends. Or himself and Cleo. It’s hard to know when Apo’s okay to call someone her friend, but she wants to think that it’s fine. That maybe Legs even feels the same.
Apo shivers, and they blurt, “Doc, are we friends?”
The window still holds Doc’s attention as he pauses for a moment. “Yes, I would say so.”
Apo doesn’t know how much weight Doc puts into the title. She doesn’t know how much weight she puts into the title. But at least they’re in agreement.
“Good. I would too.” It doesn’t feel like enough of a sentiment, so Apo says the only thing they can think of. “You need me.”
Legundo finally looks back at them. “You need me,” he echoes, though it doesn’t sound like a correction. It sounds like he’s giving the other half of their statement.
There’s so much pain in his eyes. Apo wonders if he sees the same in hers. Is she his mirror, the way he acted as hers?
Whatever the case, Apo won’t give up on him the way she did in Oakhurst. They can still work together.
As long as he’s safe. Apo just needs to keep him safe. She can protect this one. She won’t fail him, like she failed Fernsfield, like she failed Oakhurst. Just keep him living.
Maybe start with something small. They have to take it one day at a time, anyway. That’s what she did after Fernsfield, so it’s what they’ll both do here after Oakhurst.
Legs looks exhausted. He always looks like that, but whatever.
“Try to sleep if you can. You look awful,” Apo murmurs.
After a beat, Legs shrugs off his waistcoat and hands it to Apo.
“If you put that over your eyes,” he explains, “it should be easier to rest.”
Joke’s on him. Someone has to stay awake to make sure they stop at the right station, and that someone sure as hell isn’t gonna be Doc. For Doc’s sake, Apo will play along. “Thanks.”
Apo tugs the waistcoat around their head and leans on Legs’s shoulder. They squeeze a sleeping Cherri’s hand.
“Legs,” Apo says significantly. “Thank you.”
For needing her. For listening. For staying. For living.
“Thank you,” he responds, and she’s not sure what he means. It’s hard to tell with him.
There’s a lot they never talk about. A lot they don’t acknowledge. Maybe they never will. Maybe there will always be unrest and irritation and secrets and mistrust.
But they have a chance now. To talk, to change, to argue, to see tomorrow. They have a chance to keep living.
They fought to have all the chances, all the time they could ever want.