risky business

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She wasn't able to find red guy again, no matter how much she looked around the area, and Y/N was forced to give up because evening was starting to fall, and she has other responsibilities to get to, no matter how much she wants to continue searching for red guy.

So it's with a heavy and busy mind that Y/N went back home, almost robotic in her movements as she puts her shoes to where it's rightful place is, same with her bag. She drops herself on her beaten up old couch, giving herself a few moments to just stare at the ceiling and process the events that happened not even an hour ago and her feelings about it.

Conflict and excitement are her predominant emotions; conflict, because of all the places to draw inspiration from, from a guy that probably belongs in a correctional facility...? Okay so maybe Y/N is being too judgemental, but until proven otherwise, Y/N knows she'll be thinking that about red guy. She feels conflicted, that the guy is clearly someone she should avoid, should flee from, and yet she's drawn to him. Morbidly fascinated, like a kid doing their dissection on an animal for the very first time. That's what her conflict feels like.

As for her excitement...

She could see it, concepts and ideas she wants to put into sketches. Mold into designs before recreating them with her fabrics to be worn. Red, red, red; red is her key player here. The color bold and loud, an attention grabber that could definitely turn heads of everyone in the room and soon. With equally outrageous accents and patterns too, to compliment such a strong color and match it's energy.

Y/N thinks about how red guy pulled his eye down, one eye a dark color and the other a bright red. Complete heterochromia. Thinks about how red guy taunted the guys he was tormenting by daring him to rip his eye out. 'Wanna rip me eye out?', red guy asks. It was a disgusting and horrifying thing to ask, and Y/N can't get it out of her head. Red guy's voice smooth and alluring, tinted with the kind of crazy that would scare the hell out of any decent Korean-citizen. Y/N can't get his words and voice of her head, and the more she thinks, the more her imagination kicks into overdrive, the more she could see with her mind's eye the ideas and designs her thoughts are coming up with. Inspired by the red guy and his insanity.

Her hands twitch and shake. Itching to draw-

Who is she to resist the call to draw? To design?

With excitement bubbling in her gut, Y/N gets up and grabs her bag from where she left it. She makes her way to her studio, turning all the lights on and lighting up the entire space. Her trashcan is overflowing with rejected designs, her wall is depressingly bare, and she has heard the sound of her sewing machine in a long while. Her mannequins are pushed to the side, unused...

That changes tonight.

Y/N practically slams her bag down on her work table, taking out all her pens and pencils and sketchbook. She opens her sketchbook to an empty page, grabs a red pen, and designs.

That red guy was broad shouldered, with a long torso that would make form-fitting shirts look positively sinful on him. Maybe a henley shirt? Designed to look like it's blood dripping down towards the white bottom half of the shirt. Black accent colors, to break up the flat pattern as well as draw the eye to the midriff area and the forearms, where the red to white transition happens. That's a good one.

Another would be a thicker, heavier sweater, or maybe even a hoodie! White, with a single large eye embroidery patch in the middle. The eye would look like it's lids are being held open by surgical staples, exposing the bloodshot eye to the audience, unsettling and attention grabbing. 'Wanna rip my eye out?', to quote red guy, his voice practically playing in an endless loop in Y/N's mind.

With red filling her thoughts, a sweet but cruel voice in her head, and the image of the guy with danger as his color, Y/N churns out designs, one after the other, gripped in the fever of inspiration overflowing within her. It would be hard to stop now, Y/N thinks with a chuckle bordering on a little crazed, but she thinks she deserves to go a little nuts, just for tonight. She's been agonizing for weeks now, her project list being dry as the desert and her lack of motivation and joy reflecting on the fashion blog she runs on the side as a side-job. It was bad enough that her some of her sponsors noticed it, inquiring about her and her performance. A rather polite way to say she better shape up or they'll withdraw their support, and thus the money they pay her will cease to exist. No money, means she cannot continue with her projects, and she can't have that.

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