Creative Chaos.. ig?

Here's a concept prologue a Modern AU! fic with the main pov being trans!Jinu.

Years ago..

Twelve thousand won. From weekend catsitting to gardening for Ms. Park across the street. Stuffed in the pocket of his slacks, rustling as he walked to the barber shop. He hoped that this visit would stop the burning on his neck and the dark haunting behind him in the mirror.

The haircut was short, the typical pixie that many stylists give in concern and consequence of conservative mindsets. But for the first time, the spotlight didn't avoid him. And he hadn't felt so free.

It was a detour before returning home to worry about trigonometric ratios and practicing dance routines. While watching his sister as their mom prepped food on her day off. This was something he could control. Not sausage for dinner the third time this week. Not patching up his blazer despite how suffocating it got when they couldn't afford a new one. He'd deal with the consequences later. He needed this. He knew that.

What he didn't expect was the fire.

He had seen the smoke getting out of school. No one likes to think what lies at the end of the smoke is their house. Standing in front of his home, its suffocating black and gray wisps mingle in the smog ridden skies. But what makes him freeze is the flames. The agonizing warmth that calls in its violet pink hues. The crackling of fire doesn't quiet what he hears.

The shrieks of his family inside.

He doesn't remember how he got to his Uncle Gwi-ma’s house. He's barely seen the guy around.

He sits in a velvet blanket surrounded by platinum records and album covers. A minimalist penthouse in dull whites and grays that feel more like a hospital than a home. His uncle speaks up beside him.

“I've got you, D̷͈͎̼̖̟̮̀̅͗͜ȩ̶̢̼̩̣̟̬̥̼̜̟̻̬̩̐́͛̓͂̈́͗́͆͂͒̈́͝a̵͚̟͖͍̯͙̟̔̈́͑͂͝͠͝ḓ̶̢̨̻͚̟̄͊̌͑͋̏͒̽͝ͅņ̶̗͇̗̲̤͚̮͉͈̝̳̝̺̀̏̂̓̑̈̀̓̃̕̕͝à̷̢̨͕͚̘̺̥̞̟͒͋̇̐̈́̈́͋̄͒͘̕͠m̵̧͈̺̗͙͉̹̙̺̖̰͍̖͎͚̋͒̈̉̔͂͠è̷̢͕͖̫̭̘̫̦̼̂̔͆̓͂͌̉̌̕. You can start

Sneak peek of a Rumira focused fic? Haven't got to the smut yet. Plan on inappropriate use of the Honmoon.

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One Night Shaft

Summary:

When Rumi is up late one night, Mira finds her on the rooftop of their dorm with a punching bag. They've got a round of interviews and photoshoots tomorrow, but Rumi can't sleep. Mira decides to help.

Thwack, Pop, Wham!

You would think that being up here, with the silence of Seoul below, would soothe the nightmares of Rumi. But if anything, it just haunts her more. Reminds her of that night, kneeling in the dirt, begging to be freed of the mess she made. Some days, Rumi is unsure if she shouldn't have told her truth to the world. The industry cracked into a schism. Of course, not everyone would be accepting of her patterns. Most were thrilled. But the minority of voices that screamed their disgust and anguish still terrorized her. That she brought Zoey and Mira down for her selfishness. Some sponsors and venues have pulled support from Huntrix. They could still stand on their own, but it still felt like her fault.

So here she was, black joggers and cropped sleeveless tee at eleven at night.

Patterns a soft amber glow. Hoping that maybe an hour more could soothe her.

Pow! Whap! Pop!

“You usually aren't up this late, Rumi.”

She freezes, hands still up guarding her face and probably her heart. Turning her head, she sees her. Violent coral mane, circular silver frames hanging from her nose.

Mira.

“Couldn't sleep.” Rumi turns back to keep hitting the bag. Mira leans against the doorway that leads back down to the dorm. Simple grey sweats and maroon long sleeves. Sleep wear. “Don't have to wait for me. I'll be up here a little longer. We've got a long day tomorrow.”

“You should join us. Me and Zoey.” Mira says bluntly. “There's always room for you. You know that, right?”

Rumi pauses again. Before turning to look at her. She grabs her water bottle, taking a swig before placing it back down.

“Yeah, I just..” The words die on her tongue. I don't deserve it.

“I can't sleep.” She says instead.

Mira shifts and walks toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “How can I help?”

“I don't know, I just know that I feel better hitting something.”

Thoughts?