[How has it felt to be kicked out of . . . your temporary room for two days? Shit sucks, huh? Lio just paces back and forth for a moment, clearly mulling something over.]
Honestly this is so awkward. He doesn't know how to fix it, just that he was told he should Talk and that's what he intends to do. Everything was easier when they were mindmelded, and could communicate without having to put things into quite so many words. It's an odd feeling, to miss it so much. He'd gotten used to it so quickly. Maybe that's also something they should talk about?]
[Oh! My god! What does this even mean. Is this a read on Lio, who has been thinking about this nonstop for two days and apparently Galo has already forgotten about it?]
[Not really that embarrassed once he's gotten it out. Sighing and running a hand through his hair while he tries to figure out how to put things in a way that makes sense - he may or may not have noticed in the meeting earlier, but there's pink now under the top layers of his hair.]
[There's unspoken second part of that sentiment though. Which is, you make me happy, until the moment something happens, and it hurts more than anything else possible. That is also a thing that is true. Lio nods, but he pauses to search Galo's face, looking for any sort of hesitation. It makes him feel better when he doesn't see it.]
[Maybe. Galo doesn’t see it that way. He’s not about to let anything happen to Lio, as far as he’s concerned. When he gets his answer, though, he gives him a grin.]
[. . . Lio actually grins back. Some of the Cool Flame confidence he normally has about this sort of thing had been stolen, either by infection with Galo's flustered emotions, or by the lingering fear that someone will be hurt. But there's something really thrilling about permission granted. Sure. Yeah. He would like to be horny with this extremely stacked firefighter. That is a reasonable thing to want. Huffing a short laugh.]
[Lio is going to eat him alive, and he doesn't know that yet. He's still acting like Lio is his middle school boyfriend, and in a couple months he might ask him to prom, and then things will get really serious.
Laughing back, though, and tugging him closer by the waist into a kiss.]
The memory starts in darkness, and then there’s a sudden blast of color. You jolt awake to a terrible sound, an explosion somewhere nearby. You, here, is a small child, about eight years old, and you’re in your bedroom. But there’s no time to focus on any of the details, the pictures on the wall or the mess of laundry and toys on the floor.
The fire seems to have come out of nowhere. You were asleep, and then suddenly, with a loud blast, you’re surrounded. The color of it is unusual - rainbows of many different shades, including dark reds and deep greens and bright, blinding white. In the bedroom itself, it’s the smell of fire and smoke more than anything, but it’s licking up the walls around you.
You don’t know what to do. You start to cry, and shout for your mom and dad, for somebody to help you, but there’s no answer. So instead you run. The fire is even worse outside your bedroom, it’s everywhere, but you keep running, everything becoming a blur of color and heat around you as you cough and choke on the smoke, as your hands blister as they wrap around something metal.
And then, suddenly, the air is cool again, and the smoke from your lungs is gone, and you’re looking up at someone impossibly tall and strong.
You’re safe now. You throw your arms around the stranger, and you start to sob. You feel his arm against your back, hesitant, as other voices start to speak nearby.
“Oh my god. It went up out of nowhere.”
“Burnish, right? It has to be. The people in that house - “
“You there? Did you see what happened? Wait . . . that kid. Is he all right?”
The man speaks, finally, hesitantly. “Yes! Yes, he needs help! He was in that house!”
“You saved that boy from the fire? That’s incredible. . .”
[He doesn't know what to do what any of that. Of having to relive his own moment of pain - of the whiplash from going to the truly deepest burning hatred of Kray Foresight that's possible, to the vision of him as savior, grateful. He feels nauseous. Not from how Galo feels, just the turn of it is too much all at once, and he doesn't know what to do with the information. The understanding. He's still being held by the waist, and he isn't going anywhere, so he just stays there. Eyes closed, letting out one shaking breath after the other, until it passes.]
[He's less speaking to Lio, and more crying out the name, desperately, desperately sad. It piles on him, as he watches this horrible memory, feeling every ounce of Lio's helplessness. And his own memory is no better. It's his most treasured memory, in so many ways, the one he returned to time and time again. Kray saved him, he's here thanks to Kray. But now, he can only think of Lio and his friends, suffering and in pain. And that horrible, hate-filled look on the Gov's face as he sent him off to die.
Why did the man who saved him do such awful things? And does he still care so much? He lost everything except for this one thing he gained, that he could latch onto, and he's lost that now, too. And gained Lio, but it feels like he can't possibly deserve to cling to Lio that tightly, not when he's sat back and let such terrible things happen to him. He lets his tears roll openly down his cheeks and continues to hold him by the waist, against his chest, but his grip is loose.]
[ Lio doesn't move away. He doesn't cry either, because he doesn't know how to - doesn't want to feel the depths of that grief again right now, tearing open the wound again. At least this time he doesn't feel as alone. Galo is here, and he trusts him, feels almost better knowing that someone can shed tears about it. Galo is holding on loosely, but Lio pulls in tighter, forehead against his chest, arms moving to circle his waist back and holding him there.]
[That only makes him want to cry even more. He hasn't had a person who will hold him back even if he doesn't cling with everything he's got in a long, long time.
He doesn't cry harder, though. He swallows back his tears, leaning into him.]
[He still hasn't figured out why he believes everything Galo says so deeply and immediately. He simply trusts him on instinct, believes that he believes what he is saying. He doesn't say anything in response to that, but he does nod, still pressed against his chest.]
[Well. He doesn't know what else to say, or how else to reassure Lio, or how to be a good middle school boyfriend. So he just holds him for a little while.]
[S'alright. Lio isn't really looking for any words. Maybe just experiencing some Emotions together upgraded them to high school boyfriends. Eventually he pulls back from the first actual hug he's gotten here, and in a long time, pulling him by the hand so they can at least sit down somewhere. He hasn't cried or anything, but his face his a little red in that way you get when emotions ride high. Threatening, but the dam doesn't break.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Do . . . we need to speak?
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[Seriously, what?]
You mean about earlier today. . .?
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No.
[Helpful!]
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[He truly doesn't know! He truly thinks they have nothing to discuss, because they're already together!]
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Honestly this is so awkward. He doesn't know how to fix it, just that he was told he should Talk and that's what he intends to do. Everything was easier when they were mindmelded, and could communicate without having to put things into quite so many words. It's an odd feeling, to miss it so much. He'd gotten used to it so quickly. Maybe that's also something they should talk about?]
. . . Beau said we should talk about it.
[RIGHT UNDER THE BUS.]
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[He still doesn't know what it is!]
Lio! I don't know what you're talking about!
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[Oh! My god! What does this even mean. Is this a read on Lio, who has been thinking about this nonstop for two days and apparently Galo has already forgotten about it?]
The kissing! You kissed me!
[Lio started it.]
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[Laughing at his dumb mistake. God.]
Sure, but what about it? [After a second.] You talked to Beau about it?
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[NOT answering the "you talked to beau about it" bit.]
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[Rubbing his head, a little embarrassed.]
Well, that's kind of up to both of us, right? I mean, I can kiss you anytime, or you can kiss me, so probably?
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Yes.
[But.]
Is it a good idea? Under the circumstances.
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[Giving him a crooked grin, slightly caught off balance by the question.]
Seems like a good idea to me? Everything here fucking sucks, but you make me happy.
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. . . Alright.
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All right! So, permission granted?
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Permission granted.
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Laughing back, though, and tugging him closer by the waist into a kiss.]
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So, like. Enjoy that?]
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The memory starts in darkness, and then there’s a sudden blast of color. You jolt awake to a terrible sound, an explosion somewhere nearby. You, here, is a small child, about eight years old, and you’re in your bedroom. But there’s no time to focus on any of the details, the pictures on the wall or the mess of laundry and toys on the floor.
The fire seems to have come out of nowhere. You were asleep, and then suddenly, with a loud blast, you’re surrounded. The color of it is unusual - rainbows of many different shades, including dark reds and deep greens and bright, blinding white. In the bedroom itself, it’s the smell of fire and smoke more than anything, but it’s licking up the walls around you.
You don’t know what to do. You start to cry, and shout for your mom and dad, for somebody to help you, but there’s no answer. So instead you run. The fire is even worse outside your bedroom, it’s everywhere, but you keep running, everything becoming a blur of color and heat around you as you cough and choke on the smoke, as your hands blister as they wrap around something metal.
And then, suddenly, the air is cool again, and the smoke from your lungs is gone, and you’re looking up at someone impossibly tall and strong.
You’re safe now. You throw your arms around the stranger, and you start to sob. You feel his arm against your back, hesitant, as other voices start to speak nearby.
“Oh my god. It went up out of nowhere.”
“Burnish, right? It has to be. The people in that house - “
“You there? Did you see what happened? Wait . . . that kid. Is he all right?”
The man speaks, finally, hesitantly. “Yes! Yes, he needs help! He was in that house!”
“You saved that boy from the fire? That’s incredible. . .”
“Hurry! Go get help!”
The memory ends.]
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[He's less speaking to Lio, and more crying out the name, desperately, desperately sad. It piles on him, as he watches this horrible memory, feeling every ounce of Lio's helplessness. And his own memory is no better. It's his most treasured memory, in so many ways, the one he returned to time and time again. Kray saved him, he's here thanks to Kray. But now, he can only think of Lio and his friends, suffering and in pain. And that horrible, hate-filled look on the Gov's face as he sent him off to die.
Why did the man who saved him do such awful things? And does he still care so much? He lost everything except for this one thing he gained, that he could latch onto, and he's lost that now, too. And gained Lio, but it feels like he can't possibly deserve to cling to Lio that tightly, not when he's sat back and let such terrible things happen to him. He lets his tears roll openly down his cheeks and continues to hold him by the waist, against his chest, but his grip is loose.]
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He doesn't cry harder, though. He swallows back his tears, leaning into him.]
I'm going to help. With us together. . .
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I didn't know.
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mods if you are reading this then you're nasty perverts DO NOT LOOK
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