#but yeh its gonna be a pretty slice of life-ish fic so um?? try not to expect mecha fights??? faksdhfajsdh

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Heartbeat

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio turns himself in after the final battle, the start of a new life he must get used to.

This is a story of how Lio Fotia navigates through the days that follow, learns that support comes in more forms than he’s ever familiar with, and deals with his alarmingly developing feelings for Galo Thymos.

Warning: there are hints of sexual harassment at the end of the chapter

Also on AO3

[Prologue]

[Chapter 1]

Galo’s there almost every evening, always ready to greet him a good day’s work with a grin and a wave from afar.

Lio’s understandably confused at first. The heck is that idiot even doing? He’s sure the Burning Rescue headquarters are on the other side of town. And doesn’t he have his own work to attend to? Why does he bother showing up every day without fail just to let Lio catch a glance of him before he has to go back to the detention center?

“I’m just worried you’d be lonely or something,” Galo admits when Lio asks him during his first actual authorized visit. “Y’know, with you suddenly having to be locked up and kept away from your pals like that.”

“I was prepared for all this when I turned myself in, Galo,” Lio assures, though he can’t deny feeling an ember of warmth in his chest from Galo’s concern. It's pleasant; it isn’t something he gets to experience often lately.

It’s been...dull, in more ways than one. Lio’s days are monotonous, following the same sequence of events each day with only variations in the tasks he’s assigned to in between. He's slowly getting used to hearing only his own voice in his head, to the unrelenting cold that’s settled in his being in place of his flames. On some days he’d still miss the companionship of the Burnish, the sense of belonging he’d unintentionally grown so attached to. He misses the freedom most of all, the sense of independence that came with being able to do virtually anything he wanted.

He’s resolved to bear these invisible shackles. He knows. It is his decision and he’s resolved to go through with it until the very end. It's not easy and he’d been fully aware of that.

“But still.” Galo frowns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chair that seems almost comically too small for him.  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“How sweet,” Lio teases, prompting Galo to stutter some other excuse about Gueira and the kids always pestering him to go check on their dear Boss and some other nonsense. He smiles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. “And? Mind telling me how you’re doing? Though I suppose we don’t really have much time left for a lot of details.”

“Well it’s—huh?” Galo blinks. “You’re asking about me?”

“I’ve seen enough on the news to get an idea on what’s going on with the former Burnish.” Lio shrugs. “Professor Ardebit and her team are about to get that equality bill passed, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yeah. I heard they’ve been working super hard at it, too.” Galo’s eyes brighten as he goes on. “Did’ya also hear? They’ve found a way to stop those decay-like symptoms that some of the Burnish were left with from the generator! They just need do some final tests and soon those who had it bad could just get some prosthetics and be good as new!”

“That’s... amazing,” Lio marvels, genuinely awed by how much attention and support is given to his people. It's a comforting reminder that not everyone shares the same, frigid mindset of Burnish being monsters. It makes his isolation from the rest a little easier to bear. “That really is amazing.”

“Ain’t it!!” Galo’s quickly shushed when he accidentally raises his voice in his excitement. “Man, smart people who do good sure deserve all the respect.”

“They do,” Lio agrees, wholeheartedly. Those are all feats he knows he’d never be able to achieve all by himself. “But enough about that. I’m still curious to know how you’re finding the time to keep coming all the way here every evening, Galo Thymos.”

“I mean, Burning Rescue was formed to contain Burnish activity in the city,” Galo looks away and drags his syllables, in his own attempt for delicacy. “With the Promare gone...”

“Even the young hero of Promepolis can take it easy for a bit,” Lio finishes for him, only belatedly hoping he didn’t sound bitter because really, he isn’t. He doesn’t regret what he’s done as part of Mad Burnish, nor does he deny having deliberately carried out his actions in the past. These are simply the consequences he must now face.

His statement doesn’t sit well with Galo, though for a reason that doesn’t have to do with how he’d come across while uttering it. Galo stares at him, eyebrows knitted with...disapproval? Lio isn’t quite certain.

“You’re one too, Lio.”

Galo's words are quiet. Weighty.

“I don’t care what everyone thinks—Earth wouldn’t have been saved without you. You’re just as much of a hero as I am, Lio.”

“You don’t know the extent of what I've done as Mad Burnish, Galo” Lio says calmly, though he finds trouble in holding Galo’s gaze. “I don’t deserve to be called that.”

“You fought for the sake of your kind who were badly oppressed. That sounds noble enough to me,” Galo insists. “And if anyone tries to mess with you for that, they’ll have to face me and my blazing fury!”

It’s truly such a Galo thing to say. Lio can’t help letting out a little laugh. “You really can be naïve at times, Galo Thymos. You know damn well what kind of place this is.”

It instantly gets him all worked up. “Why!! Who's messing with you!! Who do I meet in the pit!!”

“You don’t have to know.” Lio waves dismissively. “Hell, I don’t need you punching idiots on my behalf.”

It's strange. Lio doesn’t think they’re even close enough to be considered proper friends yet; sure they piloted the Deus Ex Machina together and stopped the end of the world—but there’s still so much they don’t know about each other. Sure, they’d saved each other’s lives multiple times while they were at it—but they’d still became partners at random and have properly spoken to each other for maybe only two hours in total. Does that really qualify Lio to this much attention and concern from Galo? Lio has never actually understood how it works.

“Then why haven’t you done it yourself!!”

Lio understands that half of what Galo’s saying at this point is driven mostly by his agitation. Gueira can sometimes be a bit like that too, getting all worked up and not thinking his thoughts through before he speaks. He breathes, trying not to take his oversimplification to heart. Galo doesn’t mean it. He just doesn’t really understand.

“I was Mad Burnish’s leader, Galo. Every single thing I do here is observed and recorded, and it could all reflect on my people in the end.” Lio rolls his ankle, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the tracker implanted within his flesh. “Even one small mistake could be blown up to serve a point. I do not wish to waste the effort that’s been made for our sake.”

His explanation dampens Galo quickly enough. “So you’re saying you’ll bear it. All alone.”

“I will.” Lio watches as the guard walks in to tell Galo his time is up. “This is what I can do for them right now.”

Galo lingers despite the guard’s orders, jaw set while he tries to process everything Lio has just said. The fire doesn’t leave his eyes even as he gives up on the argument Lio’s sure he’s thought about voicing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lio,” is all he says before he leaves. Lio remains seated for a minute or two longer, ears aching from the silence or the plunge of adrenaline, he isn’t sure.

He really hadn't expected Galo to leave such a huge sense of absence behind him.

xXx

On weekends, Lio attends classes.

They’re mostly basic education, at least in Lio’s case. He hasn’t properly received any since he awakened as a Burnish when he was a kid, after all. He’d learnt enough to read and write to a decent extent, and during more peaceful times he’d sometimes join the little sessions Burnish teachers and professors would hold for everyone who’s interested. He mostly breezes through his language classes and finds an unexpected interest in math and science. Many other inmates seem to often bemoan the latter two, claiming it’s too complicated and it isn’t like they’d have to use most of it in daily life. Lio can’t completely disagree, but he finds that he simply enjoys seeing the flow of logic in things. It's a bit like coming up with strategies for missions, he thinks.

History, though. Lio really hates studying history. He takes to solving math questions at the back of the room in every class.

Life gets mundane once he settles into a routine. Lio eventually gets used to more of it: waking up early in the morning, the cold showers, the way his muscles would be screaming in pain by the time he’s back from construction work. The voices of the nighttime newscasters and his tutors, the uncomfortable hardness of the mattress he sleeps on, the rough callouses that’s formed across his fingers and palms. Even Galo’s presence at the end of his shifts and the comfort he can’t help but find from it. Lio gets used to them all.

And it’s when he’s waiting for sleep while picking at his callouses one night, around half a year since he first arrived, that he realizes he’s somewhat starting to enjoy himself.

Which, is absolutely ironic, considering he’s pretty much in just a slightly more lenient version of jail. But it’s true. Because despite how hard Lio always tries to convince others and himself that he’s strong enough to protect everyone, he’d lived a life of constant fear. The Freeze Force could show up any moment and they could be outnumbered, someone could grow desperate and betray them to the government. Lio has always yearned this sort of peace deep down, this sort of moments where he doesn’t have to be constantly on his toes.

But it’s also because he’s lived the life he had for so long that he’s sometimes so restless he’s tempted to just start. Screaming.

It doesn’t help that the same bastard who’s been taunting him from day one is still constantly trying to get on his nerves. He doesn’t even remember his inmate number; just remembering how he sounds like is the most he can be bothered with. Lio can easily ignore the bullshit he spouts on the daily even if it’s the first goddamn thing he has to hear in the morning, but it’s when things get physical that he feels tested.

He could still bear the childish tripping, the supposedly “friendly” pats against his back that leave bruises on his skin. He can even overlook pettier things that the guards easily dismiss like water deliberately spilled over him and the “accidental” bumps that send his food tray clattering across the floor. All these, Lio could clench his teeth, take a deep breath, and just walk away.

And then the groping begins.

It's a slip on Lio’s part as well. He shouldn’t have given him the reaction he sought, shouldn’t have wheeled around and glared at him with so much hatred that if he was still hosting Promare flames the bastard wouldn’t even have ashes left of him to burn. It's just touching; it isn’t a big deal. Lio has handled so many of the same kind of scum over the years. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

“What? Not gonna set me on fire, filthy Burnish?”

But he had never been this constrained. The frustration and annoyance had slowly built up. The fire within Lio had never belonged solely to the Promare. He feels it burning now, boiling in the pit of his stomach as every nerve in his body demands for any sort of physical retaliation.

The willpower it takes to refuse answering to them is nothing short of insane.

“Do not. Touch me,” Lio seethes, voice cold as ice and tone sharp as a razor. The bastard takes a step back, seemingly unnerved by his reaction after getting used to his passiveness. He quickly gathers himself, though, and manages to muster a pathetic smirk.

“You don’t have your flames anymore, Fotia,” he attempts to taunt. “Don’t bother acting high and mighty when you’re just as powerless as the rest of us here.”

“Flames?” Lio scoffs, grabbing him by the collar and gripping so hard that the fabric burns against his knuckles. “I don’t need them to break your fingers if you dare lay hands on me ever again.”

Bastard’s eyes widen, scanning frantically around the hallway at the inmates who are simply staring in silence. “Y-You wouldn’t dare!”

“And you wouldn’t want to try me,” Lio promises, releasing him with a shove that sends him falling on his butt. He doesn’t wait for him to get back up, storming off before he loses even more control of his temper.

Lio keeps his eyes on the floor as he navigates his way back to his cell, adrenaline still roaring in his ears. The tiny room offers little comfort besides the lock clicking in place for curfew when the sensors detect his presence. Lio’s hands are still shaking, disgust crawling across his skin like a swarm of persistent insects. He wets a piece of cloth at the sink and proceeds to scrub his legs and thighs raw.

Until all that’s left is a sting that doesn’t feel like a bastard’s touch.

His time in detention is a punishment. Lio isn’t allowed to forget that.