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If there was anything Galo was good at, it was keeping Lio's poor mind company at night.
His body- large and furred as it was- was never enough by itself. No, for even as Lio curled against his ribs, it was not the steady rise and fall of his breath that lulled him to sleep. Rather, the beat of his heart, the air escaping his nose, the rustle of hair and stony horns clinking against one another.
Galo, simply, was loud.
He talked and talked, more than Lio could have ever imagined from a beast with fangs as long as his hand and lips resembling those of a slobbery mutt he saw on the street. His tongue looked heavy and his throat simple, and yet, the Beast could deny any expectations Lio would ever have out of sheer principle. He would talk endlessly about the butterfly he saw fluttering outside in the garden, how warm Lio's body was against his own, the loose stone that needed to be replaced on the hallway to the kitchen or anything else that happened to cross his mind at that moment. Galo Thymos did not shut up.
And Lio loved every second of it.
Before stumbling upon the castle and the curse that laid inside, Lio had been a finicky man. Chewing too loud or scratching against plates made him wish to tear his own ears out and scream. And god forbid Gueira and Meis get into an argument about the intricacies of what a mysterious stain on the floor could be from, it made him pull at his hair and curl into a ball wishing it could all just wash away.
But it was never like that with Galo. His voice was rough from lack of use, and sometimes he stuttered over his own words from excitement or forgot what he was talking about as he got distracted. But Lio felt as though he could sit against the Beast's chest from sunrise to sunset, feeling the rumble of speech against his back as he fluttered in and out of consciousness. It happened often enough, considering the Beast's habit of unnecessary touch, but Lio never objected. He knew Galo would pull away in a heartbeat if the blonde had ever said no- and that was the most reassuring part.
For despite Galo's size, and the length of his canines, and how heavy his paws slapped against the ground as he walked (his claws reassuringly click click click ing along cold and mossy stone), his heart was kind and full of care.
As Lio sat back against the scales along his shoulders, stroking the massive canine head in his lap as the Beast's neck curled around him, he could only wonder if there was something more to it all. Galo purred and purred until Lio thought he might go deaf from his own noise, content to just… lay. On the torn up king's bed, the two rest, blankets shredded and moth-eaten from decades of misuse. It was comfortable, and both were happy.
'But why?' Lio had found himself wondering, tracing the ridges along curled horns and dimples where whiskers met skin. Lio knew he was not the first to enter the castle, never once bound to the place by any will other than his own. And yet, Galo not once fought him to stay, simply enjoying the time they spent together to the fullest. He had certainly endured pain, if the scars along his foreleg had anything to say about his past, and yet… here he was.
A fingertip traced the underside of a closed eye, counting eyelashes and wrinkles. How many tears had these eyes cried, blue as the butterfly bushes lining the walls of his own jail. For how many years had he been trapped in such a body, claws curled into ugly hooks and tongue covered in rasping spikes? How many people just like Lio have come and gone?
And why did he still continue to purr, as if nothing had ever gone wrong?
How sorry Lio felt for the poor, lonely Beast. With no company outside Lio and the occasional wandering rodent. He could not get himself to feel proud of his endurance, for there was nothing he deserved to endure in the first place. Lio wanted to rest against his belly and hear him talk about his old life until the fur shed from his skin and his teeth grew flat. He wasn't sure what the feeling could be named, but his stomach throbbed as he brushed the long hair out of Galo's closed eyes.
He thought back to when they had first met, fangs bared and swords drawn. How much had changed, for them to revel in each other's danger. Galo was like the Sun itself, dangerous but ever so giving, and Lio couldn't help but circle around him until his skin was burnt and his hair singed. Perhaps there was a word for such an emotion, something to describe the tightness in his throat and shakiness in his hands. Galo wouldn't be able to help. He was never good with words.
Perhaps… he would think about it tomorrow. A new day always refreshed his mind.
The purr went quiet as both man and Beast tapered into sleep.