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When he was younger, his small self getting tucked into a smaller bed, his mother would read him bedtime stories. Even now, he can still remember the excitement at being tucked in and hearing a new story, a new hero triumphing over a new villain. And like most children, he always had questions. How big were the dragons that viciously guarded their hoards? What were in the castles that the Kings and Queens reigned from? And most importantly, why couldn't the witches and ghosts and dragons be good?
"Not everyone in the world is good, Galo," his mother had whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sometimes you have to be careful. Sometimes, people don't change."
Even now, he can still remember that. It's one of the few scraps and bits of his parents he has, that he silently clings to. Sometimes, people don’t change.
He knows that he changed. Saving the world does that. Even though there are fewer fires to fight, there’s still a city that needs to be rebuilt, people that need to be relocated, politics to navigate (that's more Lio than himself- it's far too confusing and it makes his head spin.)
But, they're moving forward. He’s worked with Lio, Burning Rescue, and the Mad Burnish to start undoing the years of damage that has been done.
But as bright as the future is, there’s a lot of darkness in it, too.
The Foresight Foundation's experiments were worse than he thought.
They were worse than everyone thought.
He didn't know people were capable of such horrors. Even though some scientists claimed ignorance, there are some experiments so vile, so depraved, he can't imagine why no one said anything. The Foresight Foundation was the perfect illusion, with so many ashes in the closet only the man himself could explain them all.
So that's why he's here, dropping off court documents at the Promespolis prison. He is one of the few people Kray will speak to (read: throw insult after insult at him,) but if it's something he has to endure so Kray will pay for his crimes, it's the least he can do. And it isn’t like this is the first time he’s gone to see Kray.
He doesn’t know why he keeps going - every visit is the same. The insults, the curses, the you should have died with your parents. The how worthless can you get, Thymos?
He and Kray were close - much, much more than close, to be exact. Kray was the closest thing he had to a family, even after joining Burning Rescue. A mentor. A friend.
Kray looked at him differently than everyone else. Kray looked at him with affection, with pride. He looked at him in a way words can't describe; That for all of his antics and screw-ups, he meant something. The way that Kray looked at him, he believed that he’d be more than another Burnish related tragedy. He'd make a change. He’d become something. Something legendary.
(Was everyone else blinded by the way Kray looked at them, too? Or was he the only fool, as usual?)
“Look who’s here,” Kray says, looking at him. The glass to Kray's cell is reflective, clear enough to see Kray and his own reflection at the same time. They’re so different, yet they almost completely overlap.
He wonders: Did Kray fall from grace? Or did he, himself, rise?
“What are you staring at me for? I know you’re far too stupid to gloat, and you’re not here to kill me,” Kray growls. “If you have something to say, spit it out and stop wasting my time."
He takes a deep breath and sets the files down.
“These are for your trial. The prosecution is willing to lighten some of your sentences if you agree to explain some things about the Foundation’s ‘research facilities.’”
Kray scoffs. “You say that as if it will make a difference.”
It won’t; they both know that. Kray Foresight will be locked away for the rest of his life for his atrocities, no matter what he says. And as comforting as that is, knowing justice will be served… He dreads it as well.
He must be showing it on his face, because Kray grins. “What’s the matter, Galo? Is the hero’s life not what you wanted? Or are you upset because you benefited from everything in those papers you’re holding?"
That strikes a nerve. “I didn’t-”
“In fact, I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Galo. You made me into who I am today. You think I’m a monster, a villain, but if it weren’t for you, would I have become as powerful as I was? And I repaid you. You couldn’t have made it into Burning Rescue without me.”
This is one of Kray’s tactics, to trap him so he has no choice but to endure every insult, so he can’t possibly defend himself. But Kray’s words make him wonder - is he really a hero, like the ones in the stories he loved as a child? For all of the hidden lies Kray Foresight has told him, this isn’t one of them.
This is the truth, as raw and ugly as it was the day he returned his medal.
“That firefighter soul you’re so proud of - who gave you the opportunity to pursue that dream? Who gave you that soul in the first place?”
That’s a question he’s not sure how to answer.
When he was a child in the orphanage after the fire, all he could wonder was why. Why his home burned down. Why did he manage to live? Why could he still hear his parents screaming when he slept?
During those times, Kray was one of the few people that visited him. The man who saved him, his hero, bringing him candy, toys, and being his friend. And when all the questions within him spilled over, Why him, why this-
“You have a hero’s soul,” Kray had said, rubbing his head. “A firefighter’s soul. You have something great in you, Galo, something that burned hotter than the flames outside you. You can’t give up.”
That statement had always been a comfort to him. A silent vow that maybe, just maybe if his soul burned brighter than all of the flames around him, he wouldn’t die the way his parents did. That he would break the mold.
Had those words been genuine? Or was Kray molding him into his pawn from the very beginning?
“I’m leaving,” he says. He doesn’t know how much time has passed. He doesn’t want to know how much time has passed. “And I’m not coming back. Everything you need is with the papers.”
He turns to leave. Maybe he won’t come back, this time. Maybe he’ll finally let go and move forward.
"I didn't always hate you, you know," Kray calls, and he freezes in his tracks.
He shouldn't turn around. This is just Kray twisting the knife, prolonging his pain. He should keep walking away and never come back. Let Kray rot in jail like he deserves.
But he's never backed down. He's stupid like that.
He looks back at the glass. That same reflection, those same burning eyes.
"Eventually, I realized you weren't talented. Extremely lucky, yes. But not talented. Not anything worth investing in. If I got rid of you and found someone better to take your place, everyone would be far better off. Someone with actual talent, someone who wasn’t a fool. Someone who wasn’t cannon fodder."
Then, through the glass, Kray smiles at him. It's the same wicked smile he wore before he almost burned him to death. No remorse, no regret, even though Kray knew the nightmares he had because of that fire. No remorse, no regret, even though Kray knew he caused that fire.
"Now look at you. All of your heroics and here you are. It's because you know, like it or not, you needed me. You idolized me. You wanted to be me.”
Kray plays his thoughts and fears back to him like a maleficent record.
Part of him still doesn't want to believe it, that this is the real Kray Foresight. Part of him feels it was obvious, that he’d look at the light emitted from Kray and thank him for blinding him.
There were always rumors. Rumors about what the Foresight Foundation did. Rumors about what the Foresight Foundation could do. Rumors about what the Foresight Foundation would do.
But they were only rumors, (rumors he could have investigated) there was never any truth in them (truth that he had known, anyway,) and Kray told him not to worry. (Kray would have told him anything to keep him out of his hair. Or cause his death.)
He remembers shortly after getting the burns on his left arm. How Kray had comforted him. How he told him that Burnish were dangerous, and what he, no, they were doing was right. With his research in the Foresight Foundation, and his own work in Burning Rescue, they were making Promespolis a better place, Galo. You need to trust me, Galo. The world is a dangerous place, and people like them don’t change.
(In his nightmares, he can see Thyma's ashes. He wonders: Were those burns that her revenge? A mark on her would be killer, an eternal reminder that he is not the hero everyone sees him as? A way to connect him to Kray, proof that someone who didn't even know him could see how worthless he is?)
“You didn’t make me,” he responds. He doesn’t have a long rebuttal, anything triumphant to echo into Kray’s face.
“I didn’t make you? I’m the only reason you’re not ashes. I’m the one who ensured your enrollment into Burning Rescue. Even that godforsaken Matoi tech you treasured was because of me.”
Probably to recognize my corpse, he thinks. The morbidity of it surprises him; the truth of it doesn’t. The Matoi tech was a part of him, a piece of his dream physically in his hands. Those who wielded that Matoi were true heroes, guiding others to safety from the flames. They made sure tragedies like his own never repeated.)
Funny, how the tech Kray designed for his downfall was what put the final nail in his coffin.
“I’m going home,” he says, and he does. He’s tired.
That night, he’s unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling when Lio abruptly jerks up next to him, breathing hard.
(He knows Lio well enough that it’s another nightmare. They both have them - he cries more often than not, hearing the screams of his parents echoing in his ears, but Lio, Lio just jolts up in silence. It's worse than screaming or crying.)
There’s no point in asking Are you OK? when he knows Lio isn’t, so he wraps his right arm around him and holds him. He doesn’t want to ask what it’s about. After a few moments, Lio’s breathing calms, and his trembling subsides.
“Why are you awake?” Lio asks, looking at him.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You’ve been up for almost two days.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t tired.”
He is tired - in his body, in his mind, even in his firefighter soul. But sleeping doesn't help; all he can see is Lio fading while Kray burns them both into ashes.
"Stop blaming yourself," Lio whispers, looking him in his eyes. Lio always has been able to read him.
"For what?"
Lio sits up and stares at him. Lio's eyes are as intense as the sun - always burning, a glass window showing the fire within him.
"Everything Kray did wasn't your fault. You didn't know before now," Lio says.
"Nothing stopped me from looking," he counters. "If I wasn't so stupid-"
"You're not stupid. You act stupid sometimes, but you're not. You're so focused on how much Kray Foresight hurt others - how much did he hurt you, Galoji?"
He doesn't want to think about that.
He doesn't want to think about how his hero not only killed his parents, but countless others. How his hero promoted him not out admiration, not because he saw Galo could do good, but because he wanted him dead.
"You," Lio says, staring at Galo. "Are not Kray Foresight."
"I'm his successor, which is worse," Galo whispers. "Kray made me. My firefighter soul. My enrollment into burning rescue. Everything was all because of him. So without him, what am I?"
Better, he thinks, staring at Galo. Much better.
Kray Foresight was a monster in another name. Someone willing to do anything to anyone, Burnish or human, if it meant he achieved his goals. Kray Foresight had no heart, no remorse, and Galo… Galo’s heart is bigger than himself, even bigger than the Galo de Lion.
"When I met you, I didn't think Burnish were human."
"That doesn't make you Kray," he counters. "You looked for every alternative to Kray's schemes. You prevented me from proving Kray right that Burnish kill without reason. If you were really Kray's prodigy, you would have killed me."
He then leans up and kisses Galo, soft and sweet. It’s not their first, nor their last, but the love there is all the same.
You wouldn’t have seen my tears, he thinks, staring at Galo. You would have let me fade to nothing in your hands.
Even though Galo's scars aren't new, they're tender. The ones on his arm. The ones left by Kray Foresight, the ones he can see and the ones he can't.
He wishes he could kiss all of Galo's pain away. To heal all the pain in him, the exact way Galo did to himself. He wishes he could hold Galo’s firefighter soul in his hands and heal every burn, every scar, every bruise.
(He can still remember the moment clearly. Galo's lips meeting his and pulling him back to reality, reigniting a flame that still burns in him.)
(How ironic, how he felt the most alive when he was dying in Galo's arms.)
“Let’s go for a ride tomorrow. Out to the lake,” he says. “So we can get a break.”
The world is rebuilding itself, and so is Lio Fotia. The danger is mostly gone, but he still doesn't have time to fall apart.
His accidental burns he covers in bandages and gauze. He works to exhaustion so nightmares aren't a problem. He keeps moving so the weight of a thousand ashes, the weight of his kin that were murdered doesn't drag him to his grave.
He's falling apart and reforming in reverse. Things are better, and they're not. They're moving forward, and they're not. He's OK, he's (definitely) not.
It's not all bad, though. He has a home now. There may have been many like Kray and Vulcan, but there are twice as many that aren't.
There's good in the world - but sometimes you need to dig for it.
There are so many things to be done - homes to rebuild, Burnish to care for, memorials to be built. He can’t burn out now, not when he’s worked so hard and come so far.
Sometimes, he feels like the burden of it all will break him. But he can't break down now, when he's so, so close. Most still call him the Mad Burnish - which is odd, considering he's neither mad or Burnish anymore. It's as if the anger within him, the anger that burned like a dragon, left him with the Promare.
He's too tired to rage the way he used to. Part of him says he should rage, for the ashes they found with the Foundation's hell project. For those that still hate the Burnish. For those that still don't see him and his fellows as human.
Part of him once to tear down every inch of the Foundation with his bare hands, to tear down brick after brick until his nails bleed and his bones break.
How can those scientists sleep every night, knowing all the pain they've caused and the people they've killed? Oh, wait, they were Burnish, they were subjects instead of people.
Perhaps it's good that his powers are gone - because seeing the depravity, the countless blind eyes turned to Kray's experiments - how could he not rage again?
Once again, his heart weeps. But there is no fire in him to ignite his tears.
He misses the flame within him, how it echoed and empowered him. There's something missing, something incomplete about him. The cold he used to ignore stings, and flames that healed now harm.
(He still isn't used to getting burned. Some call it justice, that he can now feel the pain that he caused to others. But the worst part of being burned isn’t the pain - it’s the reminder that part of him, an integral part of him, is gone forever. He has a lighter, to remind himself of who he is but it isn’t the same.)
But, despite everything, he endures. Even without his flame, his soul will not burn out.
His body does, though, without the flames to fuel him. Countless times has Galo pulled him away from the endless piles of paper to pizza with Aina or anything else.
“What’s the point of working so hard for this if you don’t get to enjoy it?” Galo had said, grinning at him. And he’s right. Now that they’re here, he can actually… Enjoy things. Things like pizza, music, a life that he can sit down and live.
He can enjoy people, too. Like his roomate-turned boyfriend. (Galo insisted on him moving in with him, and everything just. Fell into place after that. Hugs, to handholds, to kisses. Even when they’re not in the Galo de Lion, they’re still in sync.)
Sure, it was a rough adjustment at first. There are still rough edges, boundaries that they’re defining and past scars that are still healing. Their home is little, they’re both still a little broken, but despite everything, it’s still good.
(Galo makes him feel strong. Galo makes him feel like a part of him isn't missing. With Galo, he can be himself.)
It’s early the next morning when they leave. (It’s not as if they could sleep, anyway. Too many thoughts, too many regrets, too many what-ifs that they would rather not think about.) He slips on one of Galo’s sweaters over his own shirt (he’s still getting used to being cold,) and then they’re off.
Riding out to the lake with Galo on his bike is nothing compared to riding Detroit, but it’s familiar. The wind in his hair, the breakneck speeds that they go. And even if Galo is god-awful driver, he doesn’t mind.
Even though the lake is still being emptied of data from Prometh’s labs, there are still enough clearings for them to get privacy. Here, they can just exist and watch the clouds go by. Here, he can breathe.
The instant he gets off the bike, Galo not-too subtly drops his jacket on him.
“What was that for?” he asks, even though he’s silently grateful as he slips it on.
“I felt you shivering on the ride up here,” Galo comments. “If you were cold, you could have just said so.”
“That was probably your awful driving.”
“Ex-cuse me? My driving is impeccable. It’s not my fault if the trail up here is bumpy.”
“Yeah, bumpy because you didn’t ride on the clearly smooth path.”
“I was going on the scenic route!”
He tosses a snowball at Galo’s head, and he laughs when he squawks. He doesn’t laugh when Galo throws one back, and suddenly they’re like two kids, tossing snow back and forth.
He’s got good aim - years of throwing fireballs does that - until Galo simply picks him up and falls back into the snow.
“Y-You cheater!” he gasps, and Galo laughs. Laughs long and loud, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Does that make you feel better?”
“No.” Another kiss, behind his ear. “You can’t just bribe me with kisses.”
“I can try!” Galo cheers.
He rolls his eyes. “You alright?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I know you visited Kray yesterday.”
Galo is silent, after that.
“Am I really that good?” he asks, quietly.
You are, he thinks, staring back at Galo. You’re so much better than what the world has given you.
“You saved the world, didn’t you?” he responds, picking his words carefully. “You’re not Kray. You never were Kray. And you’re never going to be Kray.”
Like the world, they’re both healing. Not without bumps and rough patches, but they’re healing, they’re getting better. Even if Galo still sees Kray Foresight in him. Even if he feels like half of his soul is empty.
“We’ve both changed. And not for the worse,” he says, sitting next to Galo. “We’re different. But we’re still good.”
“How can you be sure?” Galo asks.
"Kiss me," he says, "like I'm dying."
He can still remember their first kiss, though it's hazy. He can remember fading, thinking about how he didn't want to die, and Galo pulling him back. Galo keeping him in orbit, the way he always does. Galo, who saved him, just the way he saved Galo. Lio de Galo, Galo de Lion, they always bring each other back.
When Galo kisses him, it's like a flame getting oxygen. Perhaps it's the flame Galo imbued in him, reacting in his veins. Even though he's cold, kissing Galo makes him feel alive.