Rainbow - BTS

1 - Red

red defines the boldest of us
outlines us in hot, strong brushstrokes,
gives us rage and passion in unequal spades
dictating how we live and how we love those around us

red people are often confused with those with red hair
who bear the burden of the reputation of the colour on their backs
their skin burnt by the sun's angry gaze and hearts darkened by the stigma

but truly red people are fireworks, leaping flames
all they need is fuel and they keep burning
they have a hunger, a rush, an urge
they feel two 'deadly' sins at once

but it just feels normal for them

"Jimin! Get your ass out of bed and listen to your mother, you lazy shit!" a male voice calls, the shout reverberating through the house's paper thin walls.

The boy in question rolls his eyes, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give me five seconds!" he hollers back, throwing back the covers and stepping cautiously out of bed, wincing as the cold wooden floor touches his bare feet. "Shit, it's cold," he mutters to himself, biting his lip.

He glances round the room, sighing in relief when he spots his slippers. "Thank fuck for these," he mumbles, glancing longingly back at his bed before slipping them on and leaving the room.

"What do you need, Mum?" he asks, appearing in the kitchen beside her only moments later. His mother smiles at the sight of him, gesturing toward the table.
"Lay the table,would you, Chim?" she asks pleadingly. "I'm working on breakfast right now, and your father wants it ready within five or ten minutes, so we haven't got much time."

"Of course," Jimin assures her, kissing his mother's cheek before hurrying over to the cutlery drawer, pulling out the required utensils before rushing over to the table, setting it quickly. She smiles a little, turning back to focus on the oven in front of her.
"Thank you."

His father appears maybe moments later, downing a glass of water in moments and sitting down heavily at the table. "Mornin', son," he drawls, clearly still half asleep, no matter what his earlier shout suggested. "Sleep well?"
"Not too bad, thank you. You?"
"Like a log. Sorry to be impatient, but-"
"You're a dark red, I know. It's fine, honestly."

His parents are a fascinating mix - pale, pearly white and a red so dark it's almost brown. He's always wondered how he didn't turn out pink, in honesty, but the bright red he ended up with suits him, so he doesn't really care that much.

Let's backtrack a little.

Everyone is born with a hair colour that symbolises the main part of their personality. It's supposed to help people meet others like them, but instead it just causes extra stress, as nobody really looks beyond the main trait anymore. Jimin is often teased for being too emotional, too impulsive, like most reds. But the reality is much different.

He's more than his emotions. Unfortunately, however, the colour of his hair highlights this trait over all others. And that annoys him more than he could ever admit.

So maybe red is the right shade.

His mother places the plates of food on the table, seating herself opposite his father. "And breakfast is served, with a few minutes to waste," she announces, beaming at her son and husband.

Their family is tiny, but it's happy. A calm mother whose focus is on family, and an impatient father who is sometimes a little over protective, with an impulsive son whose heart is bigger than anything else. Including his height.

They eat in comfortable silence, only breaking the peace to comment on a part of the food or ask for something to be passed from somewhere on the table. Jimin is still young, but he's beginning to worry about his future. The impatience his father often feels is beginning to affect him too, though he's always found it easy to wait for things before.