Heroes, We Must Be

-Ill-

His eyes had long since sunken in, his skin sallow, lips eternally a hypoxic blue. His pale blonde hair hung ragged down his gaunt cheeks, bony fingers gripping the sides of his sink, chest heaving, water dripping down his face, washing away the sweat, dirt, and blood from the wound sustained upon his cheek. But his eyes; his eyes were alight, full of mystery and excitement. They burned with an intensity that only a true lunatic could provide, holding all the brightness Yuri lacked in his day to day. He wasn't sick. He was justice.