[and it's clear that it hits a little harder than amami intends, maybe, from the way his voice quiets as he asks, pain flashing in his eyes before they harden--
because subaru akehoshi hasn't cried in almost over a decade, standing tearless before a grave of his father while his mother wept silently beside him sitting by the same woman as she despondently went through the motions of a day disquieted by abuse and incoherent noise outside if only for subaru's sake, who did the same and never asked for anything more than what he got and became a reflection of the man who died in an attempt to make her smile or her day a little brighter--
who's never known, at the heart, if who he is is born of the memories he has now, of the shadow of his father he filled the empty space of. it's terrifying, but he's putting it on the line.
there's never been anyone who'd wanted to understand him. even now, his friends never know what to say when he brings up his dad -- how they step around it like glass on the floor, afraid they might bleed or he might feel hurt. he thinks of the people who'd used him when he reached out his hands, he thinks of the ones who snidely turned away, he thinks of those that scoffed at his passion and thoughts and laughed at a "prodigy" who wanted to be friends with them. how he gave up on that, how he grew to hate the word.
...
how trickstar so easily disbanded, the turned back amami'd given him looking so much like hokuto's in that moment; how they'd come near a second time just two seasons later, and subaru continues to let it be water under the bridge again and again and again because that's what friends do, maybe, or because he just doesn't want to be alone again.
he doesn't want to be alone again, he doesn't want to let anyone else in his life slip right through his fingers when he has the chance to stop them, and so subaru throws himself at amami with no warning whatsoever--]
Just try me, you bastard! If you don't think I'll understand, then make me! That's what friends do!
no subject
[and it's clear that it hits a little harder than amami intends, maybe, from the way his voice quiets as he asks, pain flashing in his eyes before they harden--
because subaru akehoshi hasn't cried in almost over a decade, standing tearless before a grave of his father while his mother wept silently beside him sitting by the same woman as she despondently went through the motions of a day disquieted by abuse and incoherent noise outside if only for subaru's sake, who did the same and never asked for anything more than what he got and became a reflection of the man who died in an attempt to make her smile or her day a little brighter--
who's never known, at the heart, if who he is is born of the memories he has now, of the shadow of his father he filled the empty space of. it's terrifying, but he's putting it on the line.
there's never been anyone who'd wanted to understand him. even now, his friends never know what to say when he brings up his dad -- how they step around it like glass on the floor, afraid they might bleed or he might feel hurt. he thinks of the people who'd used him when he reached out his hands, he thinks of the ones who snidely turned away, he thinks of those that scoffed at his passion and thoughts and laughed at a "prodigy" who wanted to be friends with them. how he gave up on that, how he grew to hate the word.
...
how trickstar so easily disbanded, the turned back amami'd given him looking so much like hokuto's in that moment; how they'd come near a second time just two seasons later, and subaru continues to let it be water under the bridge again and again and again because that's what friends do, maybe, or because he just doesn't want to be alone again.
he doesn't want to be alone again, he doesn't want to let anyone else in his life slip right through his fingers when he has the chance to stop them, and so subaru throws himself at amami with no warning whatsoever--]
Just try me, you bastard! If you don't think I'll understand, then make me! That's what friends do!