Work Text:
it's late and dark and they're driving, they're always driving, it’s the only thing they’ve been doing for the past two months since that night – the one that lio still can’t think of without guilt, without asking himself what could’ve happened if things went differently, contemplating if that would’ve been better for galo; kray’s shadow is disgusting but safe nonetheless, and was it really worth it abandoning that? was the truth good enough to leave every lie, everything galo’s ever known behind? he’s only sixteen, this guy, and lio feels bad for him; being the older one, the adult one, being nineteen he feels responsible for dragging the kid into all this mess
he keeps asking these questions he can’t answer, doubts filling his head up so much sometimes that he can’t see anything in front of him, can’t process galo’s worried yell quick enough to hit the brakes in time
there’s a loud ugly crash and his motorcycle’s throttles slip away from his hands and he’s sent airborne, and a sharp moment later it’s painful to try to breathe and his heavy body is being drawn to the bottom of a river by the harsh inevitability of gravity
galo’s fast but not fast enough, there’s a second and then another one and they’re too long to count, to comprehend, water’s too deep to resist drowning
a body dragged to the shore, a man fallen down on his knees before it, a desperate attempt to perform cpr; there’s this terrible contrast between galo's fast and confident and nervous movements and lio's stillness, blank face somewhat sad; between loud panicked yells and the uncaring quiet surrounding them; the two of them soaking wet and miserable on some godforsaken riverside in the middle of the night, complete cold darkness surrounding save for few carelessly bright city lights in the distance, too far away to shed any actual light onto everything that goes down in here; when lio finally coughs alive galo almost cries from relief
lio's certainly not going anywhere anytime soon, but right now he’s only half-conscious from the weakness, sometimes blinking and rarely, shortly and quietly speaking, without any understanding of what's going on around him or where he is
lio's motorcycle is down there at the bottom, probably wrecked beyond repair, so there's no hope of getting it back (but at least lio's backpack still with them, he doesn't fasten the safety strips for nothing; the phone's probably dead though), but galo's is right there, recklessly left to lie on the ground, jacket and backpack thrown near it, everything's messy but overall completely undamaged
he abandons it though, because he has no idea how to drive and carry lio at the same time, and he can't just fucking wait here until the guy is conscious enough to hold on tightly as his passenger, he can't just waste their time when lio is cold and hurt and in need of help
so he picks up both their bags and lio and goes
quiet, fast-paced but not fast enough walk towards the motel they passed a few minutes (a few eternities) ago, lio in his arms, wrapped carefully into an oversized jacket, water dripping from blond hair onto it
in the empty, silent lobby the situation feels all the more unreal, wet and wrecked against the unnatural yellow light and the potted plants, the lone half-asleep receptionist snapped from his 2am state by the sight of them
galo's loud but angrily calm, words sharp and clear, money's traded for keys as fast possible, up the stairs and away he goes, muddy trail left behind, marking the place of their coming
lio's placed on the bed, looking peaceful against the pillows, and changed into galo's clothes, a few sizes too big but dry, and that's what matters
galo paces back and forth around the place, busy and restless, towels in his hands, his hands on lio's hair and hands and feet, trying desperately to dry him off, to make sure that he won't get cold, that he'll be safe; movements rapid and chaotic, kettle put on in the small kitchen, bag turned inside-out and belongings scattered around, thoughts messed up with the realization that galo's not so sure what to do anymore now that lio's not soaked and dying on a dark shore
lio meanwhile gains enough strength to blink awake, asking coldly, almost clearly: "where are we."
"home," galo blurts out, trying to help lio to feel safer, calmer, words faster than his own thoughts as always
"we don't have one." lio says, annoyed with the obviousness of the statement he needs to make. "i don't have one."
"we're home," galo repeats confidently, now insistent on proving that his mistake wasn't a mistake at all. "you're not homeless anymore." and after a bit of a pause, he says "i'm your home. i'm not a place, but we don't need one; wherever we go, i'll take care of you, i'll make sure you're safe, i'll make sure you're home." he speaks, coming closer, leaning closer – not enough to invade lio's personal space, but enough to show that he's here for him – voice straight but soft
and lio's struck suddenly with the memory of tires screeching and darkness and cold water and his throat filled up and his lungs tearing apart in pain, of being helpless and scared, of dying; of being dragged roughly, of galo's hands rhythmic and strong on his chest, of galo's lips soft and just as scared on his own; of galo saving him
and lio's scared again, and relieved at the same time, and overcome with emotions; he drags galo down and hugs him tightly, and galo's chest feels so hot and full of life against his, and he doesn't want to let go
galo doesn't jerk away, doesn't ask stupid questions, doesn't say anything; he just hugs him back and they stay like that for a while
in this room, painted in ugly white and cheaply furnished, everything's looking fake and foreign and unwelcoming; in this room, smelling of seaweed because of them, clothes and towels and everything else thrown around on the floor, a mess they've brought with themselves that doesn't really change anything; in galo's warm embrace, he feels at home
______
the next morning, they avoid talking about the kiss (does cpr even count as a kiss?) – or, rather, galo does, as he's the one speaking endlessly, while lio just quietly rests, smiling so slightly it's rather to himself than to the other
and you know, sometimes you get so tired of complications? sometimes you think "i've almost died yesterday, might as well stop giving a fuck for a while and let myself risk it and try to get what i want"
this next morning, lio kisses galo, for real and sure this time, and galo kisses him back