But that doesn’t mean your sound can't be authentic. Why limit yourself with all those frustrating restrictions in another world?
( when you've only got one life to live, even.
well... whatever. he smooths an ear out as he turns to leave, giving rinne's back a little wave. he'd rather come down from the awkward changes to his body alone, and spend time taking note of certain things that didn't happen last time for later. )
[The thing no one taught Rinne about being sad is that you get so deep inside your head and wallow in that pool of self-pity that you forget the other parts of you.
You're not the flawless heir to your father's legacy. You're not the unruly rebel who ran away from home. You're not even the idol who fought tooth and nail to earn every last scrap of love in those overflowing boxes of fan mail.
You're just a boy. Lost. And you stay lost as long as you let the water close over your head.
But then... a hand grabs yours. Pulls you up. You break the surface and suddenly, you remember: the fire in your chest, the dream in your hands, the self you were building before the weight dragged you under.
Rinne had always wanted to become an idol he could love.
When Takasugi asks him the same question he asks the crowd—the one that always sends a ripple through the stage lights—a spring breeze cuts through the still waters, electric and alive.
Rinne doesn't look back. He doesn't want to make hunger this worse. Instead, his fingertips trace and linger where Takasugi's hand had been, recalling the brief comfort it gave him before restraint compelled him to pull away.]
It was fun...?
[He balls that same hand into a fist. He's gotta get out of here. Back in his hometown, calling someone delicious is a compliment. This time, he's afraid he might mean it in every way.]
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( 2 / 2 )
( when you've only got one life to live, even.
well... whatever. he smooths an ear out as he turns to leave, giving rinne's back a little wave. he'd rather come down from the awkward changes to his body alone, and spend time taking note of certain things that didn't happen last time for later. )
It was fun, Amagi-kun. I'll be in touch.
no subject
You're not the flawless heir to your father's legacy. You're not the unruly rebel who ran away from home. You're not even the idol who fought tooth and nail to earn every last scrap of love in those overflowing boxes of fan mail.
You're just a boy. Lost. And you stay lost as long as you let the water close over your head.
But then... a hand grabs yours. Pulls you up. You break the surface and suddenly, you remember: the fire in your chest, the dream in your hands, the self you were building before the weight dragged you under.
Rinne had always wanted to become an idol he could love.
When Takasugi asks him the same question he asks the crowd—the one that always sends a ripple through the stage lights—a spring breeze cuts through the still waters, electric and alive.
Rinne doesn't look back. He doesn't want to make hunger this worse. Instead, his fingertips trace and linger where Takasugi's hand had been, recalling the brief comfort it gave him before restraint compelled him to pull away.]
It was fun...?
[He balls that same hand into a fist. He's gotta get out of here. Back in his hometown, calling someone delicious is a compliment. This time, he's afraid he might mean it in every way.]