Lio is tired. He spends most of his days more tired than the day before. It’s like the last six months have been nothing but one long adrenaline rush that he’s finally starting to come down from, but it’s less graceful and it feels more like spiraling.
(Like falling from the sky, red hot and angry, crashing into the lake).
He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this tired, but he says it every night when he comes back to Galo’s apartment. By now, he supposed he's equally entitled to call it his own, Galo has actually insisted more than once, but that that would give this all a permanence he isn’t sure that he deserves to call his own. He hasn’t been this . . . settled in years.
It’s an odd feeling, coming home. To a place, to a person. To Galo dozing on the couch, lit up blue by the flickering light of the TV, mouth hanging open and arms crossed. Lio closes and locks the door and slips past him to the bathroom. He turns the hot water up all the way, strips off his clothes and throws them into the hamper.
It takes a minute for the water to heat up, but by the time he gets in the room is a sauna. The water is hot enough to turn his skin pink, to make his hands and feet tingle as they warmed up. He cleans up and stands under the spray until it starts to get cold. He towels off, thinking only about how good it’s going to feel to get into bed.
He shouldn’t have turned the water up so hot. It’s hard to shake off the chill even when he goes to the bedroom to get dressed in pajamas. He’s pretty sure half of what he puts on is Galo’s, but they’re comfortable and warm and that’s all that matters. Lio tries to indulge when he can, he tries to appreciate the little things that make him feel warm and whole and comfortable, even if it’s just for a little while. It’s just . . . getting harder.
He goes back out to check on Galo, he’s still asleep. Lio almost feels bad going to wake him, but he’s selfish, and he just wants the comfort of Galo curled up around him when he goes to sleep.
“Galo,” he says, voice soft, while he puts his hand on Galo’s shoulder. It takes a moment, but his eyes blink open and he squints up at Lio.
“Hey,” Galo mumbles, smiling lopsided up at Lio as he shifts, “When’d you get home?”
“Just a little bit ago. Come to bed?” He asks, already standing up to head back.
“Yeah, was trying to wait up for you,” Galo stands up, pulls Lio in to kiss him. It’s sweet and lazy, Galo still only half awake as he sneaks an arm around him. Lio allows it, kissing back for a moment before he angled away to the bedroom again.
“C’mon,” He says softly, pulling Galo along with him. Galo follows, because he always does, and when they fall into the bed Lio hits it like a sack of bricks.
It’s Galo’s bed, barely big enough for the both of them, and it has a shitty mattress, and the sheets are awful. Lio’s been sleeping here, with Galo, for months but, like the whole apartment, it doesn’t really feel like his own, even when Galo insists.
Galo wraps around him, like he wanted, pulls Lio in close. He peppers his neck with kisses, Lio almost wants more.
“Everything okay?” Galo asks, voice a warm puff against Lio’s skin.
“I’m just tired,” He says, finding Galo’s hand and tangling their fingers together, squeezing it softly.
“You sure? You can talk to me, Lio.” Lio can hear the worry in his voice, concern seeping in around the edges as he pulls him in close. He’s sleepy though, only half awake. It’s too late for this.
“I love you,” Galo squeezes him closer, kisses his neck once more before he relaxes back.
“I love you, too.” Lio says softly, and then they’re quiet. Galo doesn’t say anything else, and they stay curled close. It’s not long before Galo’s breathing evens out, and it’s just Lio's.
He lies awake for a long time, in Galo’s arms, Galo’s bed, Galo’s bedroom, Galo’s apartment. His mind is beating the same worn down paths, there’s nothing new but it still keeps him up. He tries to relax, to sink into Galo’s warmth but it’s all he can do to not shiver.
Lio is cold, and he’s tired, and he can’t sleep.
The morning is frigid. The bed is cold. Lio is cold. That’s not how he’s supposed to wake up this morning, Galo has the day off, too, and it's his rest day from the gym, so he should be here. Lio groans, stretches out, and he can hear the clattering of something from the kitchen. It’s loud enough to make him sit up properly, rub his eyes and blink them open until he can focus properly. He decides to go see what Galo is up to, but he takes the comforter with him, wrapping it around him as he pads out of the door and down the short, narrow hall to the kitchen.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Galo says, as Lio grunts and shuffles into the kitchen, pulling himself up onto the stool next to the tiny red table pressed into the corner of the pathetically small room Galo’s apartment boasted as a kitchen. “I was gonna bring you breakfast.”
Lio can see a pile of bacon on one plate, a stack of pancakes on another. He hasn’t gotten used to Galo doing this kind of thing, it does something weird in his chest—it makes it feel tight, but at the same time like his heart might just flutter away from him, off into the air and away from him.
“You don’t have to do so much,” Lio says, voice still sleep soft.
“When’s the last time we both had a day off together?” Galo asks, flipping a pancake with a flourish. He’s gotten better at that, since the first time he tried to show off for Lio. It’s cute.
“It has been a while,” Lio says considerately, he doesn’t need to think too hard. It’s been weeks, they’re both so busy, and Galo is never one to say no to an extra shift if he thinks someone needs him. They see each other at Burning Rescue, of course, but Lio only works shifts there half the time. He spends the rest of his time with the Burnish, helping people cobble their lives together.
“You feeling any better?” Galo asks, peering over his shoulder at Lio.
“Hmm?” Lio hums, it’s too early to talk about this. He doesn’t want to talk about it at all, this morning feels good , “I was just tired last night, it’s been a long week.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lio knows he’s been working a lot too, but he’s as chipper and energetic as ever. If the long hours bother him, he doesn’t really let it show. Galo turns off the stove and flips the last pancake onto the stack. Lio watched him shuffle around, and Galo brings him coffee, in Lio’s favorite mug. Lio is pretty sure it’s Galo’s favorite one, too, but he never says anything. Galo leans in for a kiss, and Lio can tell he’s been sampling the bacon.
Lio reaches for the coffee mug but Galo holds it just out of reach.
“I may have done something, but you have to promise not to be mad before I give this to you.” Galo says, and he sounds like he might actually be concerned Lio will get mad at him, but he also sounds very pleased with himself. It is a very worrisome combination that Lio doesn’t know how to prepare himself for without the coffee.
“What did you do?” Lio asks, raising a brow at him, still reaching for the coffee.
“You have to promise,” Galo insists, keeping it far out of Lio’s reach even though he’s probably going to end up spilling some of it.
“Fine. I promise.” Galo doesn’t press him for any proof, but hands him the cup anyway. It’s hot and it almost burns his hands when he wraps them around it. Perfect.
“I called in some favors with the squad and got the Captain to agree to move our shifts around this week, so we have it off. And then I called Meis and Gueira, so they’re handling things for you next week.” The words tumble out of Galo’s mouth at lightning speed, Lio thinks he might actually trip on them, and it takes him a moment to process what Galo has said.
“Wait, what? Why?” He asks, about to follow up with a how? He knows there’s too much to be done, there’s no way that Burning Rescue can stay on top of things without both of them, even though they have had some new volunteers and recruits come on board. And Meis and Gueira certainly needed his help, there was always something coming up in the bureaucratic shitshow that was the mess of Promepolis’ interim government.
“Hey, Lio, it’s gonna be fine. I made sure everyone was cool with it.” Galo says, now he’s definitely worried, Lio can hear it. “You haven’t taken any time off at all since everything happened. You can’t do this forever.”
Coming from Galo, that said a lot.
“I can't just sit around,” and he can’t, there’s still too much to do. He has too many responsibilities.
“Hey, trust me. I know it’s hard to sit out, it’s not like I want to either. But don’t you want to sleep in a few days in a row?” Galo offers the suggestion like its a bribe, and the prospect is tempting.
“I can't do that to Meis and Gueira. They already have too much to deal with.”
“Meis told me that it was about damn time you took a break, and Gueira threatened to break my arm if they see you back there before the week is up. I’m pretty sure he was kidding, but let’s not test that, yeah?” He ducks in for another kiss, a quick one before he pulls away to go get the plates of food.
“He was joking,” Lio says, pausing for a moment before he adds, “At least, I’m pretty sure.”
Galo looks suitably amused, he brings plates and silverware and syrup, but Lio has already stolen a piece of bacon from the plate. There’s barely enough room for everything on the table, they should probably look into getting a slightly bigger one now that stores were actually starting to have decent stock of things again.
“I don’t know what I’d do with a week off,” Lio admits, between bites of the bacon. It’s a little underdone, because Galo never cooks anything to the point that it might even think about burning, but it’s not bad. He tries to sound casual, but it almost feels like a frightening prospect, to have so much free time ahead of them both.
Galo just lights up, “I have a few ideas,” He says suggestively, as he sits across from Lio and starts filling his plate with stacks of pancakes, tossing strips of bacon between each pancake he puts on.
“Of course you do.” Lio says, going for teasing but it only comes out as fond. It isn’t like he’s ever minded before when their plans have been derailed for some personal time shared between the two of them. They’ve both been late to work on more than one occasion to steal a kiss, or something a little more intimate, from each other.
“Hey, I have actual ideas too. Like, there’s stuff starting to happen in the city again now. There’s a new bar that opened up down the street, and they’ve got a band playing Thursday night. And there’s an ice rink that just opened up for the season. And there are new stores, and stuff.” While Galo is talking, Lio takes the opportunity to load his plate with pancakes and bacon, using far less syrup for his plate than Galo used on his.
“I don’t know about ice skating,” Lio says, a little distantly.
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He lets Galo pick their plans more often than not, anyway, he always has an idea of something to do. Neither of them have very much time off in the first place, though. When they do have free time, its usually just spent collapsed on the couch watching something dumb on TV or going out to get pizza. Sometimes they’ll play video games, or go out for a drink, but they both work so much that they’re usually too physically exhausted for much else.
Having spare time to do anything else seems like a nebulous concept. Lio takes a bite of his pancakes, thinks about it. When was the last time he had free time like this at all? When he wasn’t running, or planning, or saving, or rebuilding?
“Hey--you with me?” Galo asks, peering over at Lio, looking concerned again. Lio wonders exactly how much he’s been worrying Galo, for him to go through the trouble of arranging both of their schedules like this. He’s noticed the concerned looks, Galo trying to be accomodating, but he suddenly realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been like this.
“I’m with you,” Lio says, trying to pull himself together, “Thank you. For breakfast, this. For everything.”
Galo smiles, wide and wholehearted. Lio’s heart flutters in his chest, and he can’t help but smile back at him, he always feels bashful in the wake of Galo’s utter devotion, the way he can just wear his heart on his sleeve without any hesitation.
“Good,” Galo says, “We can do whatever you want, you know. We don’t have to go out at all. If you’d rather just chill and hang out all week, we can do that too. I just want you to be happy.”
Lio’s heart aches at the earnestness in Galo’s voice. He knows he should have been trying harder lately, Galo thrives so much on attention and affection. Lio knows he should be doing more for him. He reaches his hand across the table to take Galo’s, twines their fingers together and squeezes.
“I am happy,” He says, and he means it, he does. They won, things are starting to calm down, he loves Galo so much that it hurts, sometimes.
He is happy, he really is.
It’s just that sometimes, it feels like there’s this shadow, gnawing at the edges of that happiness. He can ignore it sometimes, but other times he can’t. He wants to squash it down and make it go away, but he doesn’t know how. He just has to keep fighting it, but that’s okay. He’s good at fighting and he’ll figure out how to beat this too.
They actually are lazy the first day. They spend most of it lounging on the couch, rotating between napping, kissing, actually watching TV, Galo plays a few rounds of some shooting game he likes before he almost chucks the controller at the TV. They order in takeout for dinner, and, despite all the napping, turn in early for bed too. They see each other every day, but sometimes it feels like they don’t get to actually spend time with each other. It’s like a strange combination of too much and not enough. The day was well spent getting to bask in each other’s company.
The second day they’re both restless by noon, Galo has already gone to the gym by the time Lio is even awake, leaving a regrettably cold space in the bed that Lio just scowls at when he wakes up. He comes back in the middle of Lio’s second cup of coffee, as he’s scrolling through the news on Galo’s old tablet. Lio almost lets himself get distracted when he comes in, but Galo is off to the shower before he can commit to the thought.
They decide to go out for a little while, to stretch their legs and walk around the neighborhood. Lio thinks about protesting, it’s the coldest day of the year, so far, but he can bundle up for Galo. Lio’s already bought a winter coat, but he doesn’t have anything else, so Galo declares they can head to some of the new shops to look for a scarf and a hat that he can wear. In the meantime, it’s just the two of them walking hand-in-hand out the door, Lio tucked against Galo’s side as if the cold won’t get to him quite as badly if he stays there.
Galo insists that it’s not actually that cold, and Lio is sure that it probably isn’t. He knows he’s not the only Burnish that runs cold now. Sometimes people get called out on it, but it’s not like there aren’t people who were never Burnish that didn’t skew cold. For the most part, they blend in now. People have started to integrate back into society. It’s not always easy, or seamless, but in the wake of everything that’s happened, people want normalcy. Burnish and non-Burnish alike. It’s people like him, like the other former Mad Burnish members, that have been having a harder time with it.
Galo is chattering idly as they walk, Lio nodding and humming responses in the right places. He’s listening, but sometimes Galo just likes to hear the sound of his own voice. It’s not a bad thing, most of the time. It fills in the too quiet lulls in Lio’s head, and Galo has a nice voice when he’s not trying to be annoying. He’s talking about one of the other Fire stations in town that Galo had picked up a shift at this week. Lio’s met a few of the members that Galo is talking about, so it’s easier to follow along.
They approach the neighborhood with the shops that Galo wanted to go to, and Lio can see why Galo had noticed in the first place. They’re starting to get decorated for the holidays, already, and there are lights strung up everywhere. There’s no Christmas tree up yet, but there’s a clear space for it--and it just so happens that the skating rink Galo had been talking about has been set up just a little bit further. There are actually a lot of people walking around, it’s probably the most Lio has seen casually gathered in any one place since everything happened.
“C’mon, let’s go check this one out,” Galo says, jerking his head towards one of the store fronts with warmly bundled mannequins lit up in the windows. They head in, and the store is a burst of warm air. It’s, thankfully, a little less busy inside than the outside area is, so there’s room enough to move around until Lio finds a display of scarves.
“Here’s one for you.” He says, holding up a deep blue scarf to show Galo. It’s plain, but it’s got a nice texture to it, soft and squishy when Lio bunches it up.
Galo looks at it considerately, “I’ve got my burning firefighter soul and a little firebug to keep me warm.” He says, grinning like a fool. It’s endearing, and Lio can’t help the way the corners of his lips turn up a little.
“I don’t think your burning soul is gonna stop you from getting the flu when it gets too cold out,” Lio warns, shoving the scarf at him a little more aggressively.
“I don’t get sick,” He says, as a form of protest, but he takes the scarf anyway and holds it up to himself. The color complements his eyes and his hair. It looks good. Not for the first time, he wonders what it would be like to get Galo to actually dress up nicely outside of the more professional version of the Burning Rescue uniform (even though Lio would begrudgingly admit that Galo looked very charming in that, too).
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Lio says, combing his eyes over the rack until he finds one for himself. It’s a little longer and wider than the style he had picked out for Galo, it’s probably closer to a blanket than a scarf but it looks warm too. It’s a nice, deep black that isn’t too far off from the shade of his jacket. He does try to match his blacks when he can.
“Sure that’s not gonna be too big on you?” Galo asks, as Lio unravels it from the hanger it was on. Lio shoots him a look as he tries it on.
“It’s called fashion , Galo Thymos,” He says, with a little bit of a flourish, before he gets the scarf settled how he likes to look at it in the mirror, as if he needs to. “Besides, it’s warm. And then I won’t have to keep stealing your sweaters.”
Galo actually pouts a little, and Lio really can’t help but smirk a little, hiding it in the folds of the scarf. He’s teasing, he knows that Galo likes seeing him walk around in his clothes. It’s cute.
“My Burning Rescue hoodie will keep you warmer than that scarf ever could,” He says, indignantly.
“Don’t worry, I would never dream of giving that hoodie up.” Lio says, wandering off to go look at the hats, content that Galo will follow him.
Galo is the one to find the hat that matches the scarf after they compare shades of black. And from there, they check out quietly, Lio tugs on the hat before they head back out. They weren’t even in the store for very long, but the sunset is already casting a fiery glow over the city, the lights that were strung up starting to glow more brightly in the dusk. Lio can’t think of anything else he needs, but he lets Galo drag him around, and they find a bookstore that hasn’t closed for the evening yet. Galo spends some time over the comic books, Lio casually browses over new releases. They don’t stay for very long, but Galo comes out with a stack of comic pamphlets. Lio doesn’t see anything that catches his interest enough to buy, mostly he just thinks he prefers reading on tablets now. He spent a good number of years avoiding books, so delicate and flammable, too bulky to take with him on the run.
Galo drags him by the ice rink to watch, to try to coax him into agreeing to give it a spin. He pulls Lio in close, looking at him a little mischievously.
“I’ll buy you a cider if you’ll skate with me,” He offers, as if it’s a very good bribe. Lio makes money too, although even less than Galo since he works fewer shifts at a job that actually pays.
“I can buy one myself,” Lio argues with him, playfully. But he already knows he’s going to give in because Galo is pouting, and there’s a part of Lio that actually wants to do this, too. He hasn’t skated in ages.
“You always say food tastes better when I make it, so shouldn’t the cider taste better if I buy it?” Galo says.
“Oh no, you’ve caught me there,” Lio says, a little deadpan, “Guess we should go get some skates, then.”
Galo grins, ducks in and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before he’s rushing off to the booth. That’s never not going to make Lio feel like he’s floating, even though he generally finds it a little overbearing when Galo is all over him in public, which Lio always has to call him out on, it feels.
Lio remembers skating when he was younger. He used to go to a rink in the city not too different from this one, but bigger than this one, and halfway across the country. He doesn’t remember it being this cold when he was younger. He wonders if that’s because the planet can get colder now, or he’s colder now, or both. He feels like the winter is just a harsh reminder of the dual absence of the promare.
The rink is a little crowded when they finally stow their shoes away and get their skates on. Thankfully, it’s not so bad that Galo can’t show off a little, and he certainly doesn’t waste any time getting to that. Lio is almost a little surprised, but it's not like Galo hasn’t told him about the frozen lake before.
Lio admires Galo’s prowess for a moment before he slides onto the ice. It takes him a moment to get used to the balance, but the glide is nice once he starts moving. There’s something nostalgic in it, in a lot of ways he can’t quite process. It feels nice once he gets moving.
They skate together, ducking around some of the other people on the rink and trying not to get too close or zoom past the children. When they get a little more space, its Lio’s turn to show off. He cuts a turn, and nearly falls when he tries a little jump, but it’s still breathlessly fun, and he’s laughing when Galo slides up and helps get his balance again.
They skate until the sun is all the way down, and Lio’s lungs are burning, and his nose and cheeks are red and burning where he can’t keep the scarf wrapped tightly enough. When he steps off the rink he pulls it back up. Even Galo, burning firefighter soul and all, seems like he’s starting to get a little chilly, so they hurry to turn in their skates and get their shoes back. As soon as they’re done, Galo, ever a man of his word, takes him over to the snack kiosk and buys him a hot cider. He orders it extra hot, but Lio is pretty sure it’s all coming from the same dispenser.
Galo is waiting at the counter for their drinks and Lio is standing a little aside, next to the heater, when he spots it. It’s a studio on the second floor, above some of the shops. There are big glass windows, and he might have recognized it for what it was if all the lights weren’t on. Now that it's dark enough that there isn’t glare from the sunset, he can see the barre fixed to the side of one wall, the edge of the wall of mirrors. He can’t see much, only the side of one of the dancers as she leans over to stretch. The angle from the street is too severe for him to make out much more.
Lio watches for just a moment. His chest feels a little hollow, suddenly, and he’s sure it isn’t just from the cold setting in anymore. It’s been so long . . .
“One cider, piping hot,” Galo announces brightly, cutting through to Lio, lost in his thoughts, “See something interesting?” He asks, following the line of Lio’s gaze to the studio.
“Thank you. And, not really. It just caught my attention,” Lio says. He holds the cup close and hooks a finger into his scarf to pull it down just enough to uncover his face so he can drink, and he can tell Galo is about to warn him to let it cool at least a little before he takes a sip, but Lio’s already burned his lips and mouth too many times to count. It’s a wonder he can taste anything anymore at all, he’s bound to actually hurt himself one of these days, even though he really doesn’t mean to.
“You know, I don’t know why you were so hesitant to skate in the first place. You’re a natural at it!” Galo exclaims, as he moves to pull Lio in close with the arm that’s not being used to hold his cocoa.
“I used to skate when I was young,” Lio says, shrugging a little, as they start moving in the direction of home. He spares a glance back to the dance studio before they turn out of sight, watches the long line of a dancer's body as she stretches her arms up. He swallows down whatever feeling is threatening to, he focuses on Galo’s excited squawking .
“What?! You never told me that!”
“I guess it hasn’t come up,” Lio says, pausing for a moment. That’s not really true, though. They’ve talked about the frozen lake a lot before, about how Galo would skate on it, the time that Aina tripped and fell over before Galo found Lio. Lio feels a pang of guilt, realizes that there’s a lot that he hasn’t told Galo.
But there’s a reason for that isn’t it? There’s this part of him that’s ugly and selfish, that doesn’t want to share, that’s always thinking of how much of him that Galo already has. He's caught between ‘What’s the harm in sharing a little more?’ and wondering how much of himself he can give to Galo before it’s just them , and there’s no him left. Galo shares so freely and openly that Lio doesn’t think the thought has ever crossed his mind that he should ever keep anything to himself. Maybe he doesn’t need to be as concerned with that, things are different for him. It’s not like it’s a bad thing, anyway. They wouldn’t be here at all if Galo wasn’t so perpetually open and honest about his feelings.
“I should have mentioned it,” Lio finally admits, “I used to go a lot in the winter. When I was really young I lived near a lake that would always freeze up in the winter.”
Galo is listening eagerly, and for a moment Lio feels like he has over shared, given too much to him. But he glances at Galo, and the expression on his face is so eager and earnest it makes Lio feel guilty that he doesn’t want to say more. He takes a moment, he’s trying , here.
“My family used to go out onto the lake. My mom and my dad took me, with my little sister. That’s where I first skated.” He takes a sip from the cider, relishing the molten heat of it, it’s a distraction, a reason not to say more.
“I think this is the first time I’ve heard you talk about when you were a kid.” Galo says, voice uncharacteristically quiet, a little soft.
“It feels like a different life,” Lio looks away, doesn’t know what else to say, looks away from him.
“Hey, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it,” Galo pulls him in closer, going for reassuring. He fills in the silence immediately, Lio is used to that, how Galo will just sense the awkward pause and launch into something to fill it up. Galo launches into another retelling of the first time he ever found the lake, and his first time skating, to try to put Lio back at ease. He’s good at that, it’s easy to put aside his thoughts of the past while he listens to Galo talk.
When they’re home, Galo makes dinner. It’s some kind of a stir fry made out of the leftovers in the fridge and freezer, but it tastes good. Lio is supposed to be in charge of the cleanup when Galo cooks (so almost all the time), but Galo helps anyway.. They watch something dumb together on TV before Galo leans in to kiss him and they get distracted from there. For a while, they just kiss, but then he’s in Galo’s arms, and then Galo is taking him to the bedroom.
They fall into bed and Galo strips Lio down. He’s usually eager, but tonight he’s methodical as he moves up and down Lio’s body. He knows how to use his mouth, his fingers, to have Lio twitching under him, and that’s what he does. By the time he’s done, Lio is nearly begging for him, feels like he might fall apart.
When Galo pushes into him, he’s just as careful and controlled. He’s focused on Lio, on Lio’s pleasure, and being the singular point of that focus is too much. Lio doesn't last long before he’s spilling over Galo’s hand, shuddering into their kiss when Galo comes inside him. They should clean up, but Lio won’t let Galo move further than to just to move to the side so he’s not laying on top of Lio. They kiss, lazy and contented, until Lio feels his eyelids drooping. He falls asleep in Galo’s arms.
And he dreams.
It’s not nightmares, no wicked flashes of a cruel face. There’s no pure rage, the blinding light of fire. No thorny cords wrapped around his body, tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s no one being engulfed by flames, no buildings crashing around him.
No, he dreams . It’s quiet and peaceful, an effervescent glow instead of harsh, hard color.
It’s the soft glow of lights on a stage. It’s the graceful arc of a body, his body, as it bends, the rush of movement as he leaps and bounds. He spins on the tips of his toes, and he is set ablaze, flesh curtained by a flame that won’t burn him.
He wakes up and Galo is still asleep, mouth open as he drools on the pillow. It’s still dark outside so he lays back down and tucks up against Galo’s side.
He feels a little melancholy, but, also, indescribably content and warm. When he falls asleep again, he dreams he's dancing again. Only this time, there’s a shock of blue hair, sticking up out of the audience when he goes to take his bow.