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It was midwinter, and Promepolis—a city of devastating extremes—was frozen over. It was a miserable, huddling time for anyone who wasn’t Burnish.
Which, of course, was now everyone. Including Lio.
“D-d-does your landlord know the heater isn’t fucking functional?” he chattered from amidst two comforters, a picnic blanket, four pillows, and a tablecloth.
Galo kicked the radiator twice. It made a sad clunking noise and a single screw clattered to the floor.
“No,” he admitted. “I’m not sure it’s ever actually worked.”
Galo, unable to bear the sight of his boyfriend in so much distress, knelt down to gather the whole shivering bundle into his arms.
“I can be a heater,” he suggested hopefully. Lio gave a derisive sniffle.
“You’re sweaty,” he mumbled, then squawked as Galo hoisted him and the pile of blankets into his arms.
“Would you rather be warm and happy and a little sweaty? Or cold and sad and by yourself?”
Lio grumbled incoherently. It sounded like maybe he had part of a pillow in his mouth.
Galo gently deposited the blankets on the hard couch and began the laborious process of de-burritoing Lio, who had so thoroughly cocooned himself in fabric that it took Galo a solid five minutes to pry him out, rumpled and hissing like a very cold, very pissed-off kitten.
“You barely produce any body heat,” Galo noted, rubbing Lio’s blue hands between his. Lio felt himself sigh, and tucked his head beneath Galo’s chin. Galo’s hands weren’t soft, but they were exceedingly careful as he massaged the sluggish blood back to the ends of Lio’s fingertips.
“I guess having little fire aliens living inside you would make it pretty easy to stay warm,” Galo mused, half to himself.
Lio snorted. The way Galo spoke sometimes—as though every thought in his wonderful, stupid head took a straight shot out his mouth without checking in at Logic Station A or Social Filtration System B. But all Lio said was:
“You’re right.”
Galo, satisfied that Lio’s hands weren’t in danger of frostbite, wrapped his arms around him and snuggled him ruthlessly to his chest. Lio grunted, his wrists trapped at a wrenching angle against Galo’s hard stomach. The air left his lungs with a wheeze.
“But now you have me!” Galo crowed. “Me and my burning soul will keep you w—”
“Ga…lo,” Lio gasped. Galo’s grip on him loosened at once, his expression mortified.
“Shit, sorry. You’re just…so cold. I didn’t want your feet to freeze while I’m working on your hands, so I figured I could. Y’know. Cover all bases.”
Lio’s lips twitched. “No, I get it.”
There was silence for a few moments, except for a quiet rustling as Galo pulled Lio into a more comfortable position against him. Lio nudged his head up, tilting Galo’s chin upward so he could put cold lips to his throat.
“You know what we could do?” he whispered.
He felt Galo’s pulse against his cheek. It was speeding up. A lot.
“Um.” Galo suddenly seemed to be having trouble using his tongue, and Lio chuckled.
“Well,” he said quietly. “That too, I suppose.”
Galo shifted him in his arms, so Lio could prop his elbows on his chest and look him in the eyes.
“We could start a fire.”
Lio could nearly hear the gears in Galo’s brain shriek to a halt. His face went so absolutely white that for a moment Lio thought he might faint. Galo’s jaw worked a few times before he managed to choke out:
“L-Lio! Holy shit, no! We can’t set anything on fire! I’m a firefighter—I can’t be an arsonist!”
Two bright red spots appeared on his horrified face. Lio looked on in silence, taking a measure of cruel delight in Galo’s torment.
“I mean, not that—not that all arsonists are bad,” Galo said quickly. “Like—like you, I mean. And I guess one time I did start a fire, but that was different, way different…and also not really fire…? Wait, no, arson is bad. Really bad. The most bad. But…shit, you really are cold, huh?”
Galo rubbed Lio’s back vigorously, as though through friction alone he could raise his core body temperature. His handsome face was the very picture of conflict. Then, he set his jaw.
“No,” he said firmly, eyes shining with an unbreakable resolve. “Lio, I can’t. Not even if you asked me to.
Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted to betrayal. “But…but Lio!? I thought this was over! I thought…”
He trailed off as Lio, barely holding back his laughter, pointed to their right. Galo’s eyes followed his finger, straight to the wall, and the—
“Oh,” he said, deflating.
“I meant,” Lio said through his giggles. “In there.”
^ ^ ^
As Galo thumped around the kitchen looking for matches, Lio re-wrapped himself in a blanket and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the dusty brick fireplace. The thing looked like it hadn’t been touched in several decades, and given Galo’s living habits, Lio had no reason to think it had seen recent use.
“If you take much longer I might freeze to death,” he called out after a few minutes of waiting. There was a muffled thud, and a yelp as Galo tripped over something in the kitchen.
“Hang on! I can’t find the—oh.”
Galo hurried back, matchbook clutched victoriously in his fist. He looked almost nervous as he handed them to Lio, who raised an eyebrow.
“My firefighter’s soul doesn’t really like using matches,” Galo offered by way of explanation.
“Galo, I’ve seen you use a lighter.”
Galo shrugged, lowering himself to the floor next to Lio. “Different.”
Lio’s lips quirked up, and he struck a match.
Instead of tossing it into the bed of newspaper and firewood, he let the fire tongue its way up the stem of the match. It was no live, infant flame. It was no Promare. But it played at Lio’s fingertips: a bright, lovely kiss of heat that was as familiar as it was foreign.
“Lio...” Galo said nervously.
“I know.”
He set the match against the newspaper, leaning back to watch the flame lick a hungry path up the paper to the firewood. Before long, the blaze was orange and healthy, the heat from its glow prickling at Lio’s frigid skin.
Galo scooted behind him, one leg on either side of Lio’s hips. He wrapped his arms around Lio’s stomach, pulling him snug and tight into his body. Lio grunted as Galo’s heavy head sagged onto his shoulder, face buried in the blanket.
“This’s’n’ce,” Galo mumbled. Lio hummed in agreement, leaning a little deeper into Galo’s arms.
Between the roaring fire and the warm, gentle arms wrapped around him, Lio felt the kernel of ice in his chest slowly begin to melt. It was easy, he thought sleepily, to partake of Galo’s heat. Especially when he had so very much of it, and when he was so willing to share.
^ ^ ^
They woke up at the same time.
Galo had somehow strangled both of his long legs in the blanket. Lio’s arm had gotten under Galo’s back and was numb from shoulder to fingertip. His mouth tasted bitter, and his head was full of soupy fog.
“Whattimezit?” Galo yawned, wiping away the string of drool connecting the corner of his mouth to Lio’s shoulder.
Lio craned his stiff neck to peer out the window. All he could see was dark gray sky. When he looked at the fireplace, there were only embers left. They winked like rubies in a bed of ash.
“Eight?” he guessed.
“Shit.” Galo crushed his face into the back of Lio’s neck. “We went to sleep.”
Lio chuckled. “Yes, you are correct. We did.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
Lio squirmed, twisting himself around to face Galo. They looked at each other like that for a little while, cheeks resting on the blanket, eyelids still heavy. Lio wasn’t quite sure how they ended up kissing, but he welcomed it eagerly. He cupped Galo’s cheek in his palm, fingers splayed wide to hold his face still. He felt Galo sigh into his mouth and echoed it, opening to the shivering hint of Galo’s teeth against his bottom lip.
Galo rolled them over, pulling Lio bodily onto his chest, keeping their mouths firmly connected. Lio tightened his grip on Galo’s jaw, prying it farther open so he could fill Galo’s mouth with his tongue. Galo groaned hoarsely, burying his fingers in Lio’s hair and raking hungrily across his scalp.
When Lio suddenly pulled away from his lips, Galo whined. The weak, needy sound had an almost frightening effect on Lio. He wasn’t used to it. He might never be. He wasn’t used to the way his starving, bruised heart craved Galo closer, closer still, even when they were as close as two people could be without sharing a single skin.
Lio had never needed anything so ferociously, and it terrified him.
Galo felt the tension in Lio’s body and opened his eyes.
“You okay?” He murmured, stroking Lio’s sides with his hot hands. “Cold again?”
Lio didn’t respond, just looked down at him. Galo’s cheeks went pink at the naked, almost savage adoration in Lio’s face. Slowly releasing his grip on Galo’s jaw, Lio traced a thumb across the curve of his chin, catching on his lower lip. He drew his index finger down the bridge of Galo’s nose, softer than breath.
“What are we doing?” he whispered. His fingers played on Galo’s face, stroking his cheeks, the firm angle of his jaw.
Galo’s eyebrows knitted. “Lying down? Well, we were kissing, but…”
Lio’s lips twitched as he smoothed out the wrinkles in Galo’s forehead with soft fingers. Then Galo made a soft noise of comprehension.
“Oh. You meant like…what are we doing.”
Lio felt the air between them change. Galo’s arms tightened around him.
“I don’t know,” Galo said, almost sheepishly. “Do you?”
Lio felt the threat of a smile on his lips before quickly banishing it.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “We’re kissing.”
So they kissed. Ardently, and so entirely without finesse that by the time they separated to gasp for air they nearly laughed at the sight of each other. Lio’s chin was slick with saliva, and Galo’s lips were bitten red, and so swollen he looked like he’d been making out with a beehive. They had rolled across the floor until they bumped into the couch. They lay there, still tangled in the blanket with Lio neatly pinned under Galo’s chest.
“You feel warm now,” Galo said, practically radiating satisfaction. “I told you I’d be a good heater!”
Lio let him bask in his accomplishment. He grunted when Galo happily buried his face in his neck, nuzzling into the curve of his throat like it was home.
What are we doing? his hands asked, re-mapping the comfortable architecture of Galo’s ribs, his strong shoulders.
Is it important? Galo’s replied, pulling Lio’s legs around his waist, slotting them effortlessly into each other’s negative space.
It might be, someday.
Galo’s body answered his.
Then let’s wait until someday, and you can ask again.
If the air was still cold somewhere, far, far outside their shared fire, Lio had long forgotten.