[the bleak television light seems to swallow the rest of the room up, a small hand half-grasping for the face on the screen. there's clamor and screams, but there's a ​static crowding his head blotting out faces drowning out his mother's voice as her hand comes in front to blacken the scene unfolding before his eyes--

subaru's face, when he turns, isn't bright or happy. it's not sad or mad either, it's picture perfect neutrality.

his gaze is a different matter, guarded and narrowed a little more than the usual wide-eyed idealist he seems to prize himself as. a summer afternoon heralding the seasonal storm, just beneath the surface. despite this, though, the poison's working through his system, dialating his pupils. a closed book with a transparent cover, titled: subaru akehoshi.]

I have someone who would, but it won't happen. I'll be the brightest star in the sky and I won't let anything or anyone swallow my light.