|REQUESTS OPEN| Minority based/inclusive One-shots!!!

Request: yes, ImNotHomelessShutUp 
TW: Neglet, curse words
Summary/notes: You have a bad home life and use music to cope. You sneak out one night to perform at an open-mic that Haruhi happens to attend.
He/Him Pronouns for reader
I'm making Haruhis gender ambiguous and I'm giving them he/she/they pronouns as well
Not edited but lightly proofread at 2 am. I'll edit typos out soon.
~~~

"Dad! I'm home!" You yell as you enter the dark house; It would seem all of the lights are off. You sigh. Of course, that shit stain of a father is probably blackout drunk on the couch.

Grumbling, you make your way to the kitchen, used to finding your way in dark rooms to stay hidden. As you open the fridge, you find some Chinese takeout behind some beer cans; You grab the takeout and head to your room on the second floor.

The moment your backpack hits the bed and your door shuts, you sigh; Holy shit, living with your father will never get any easier. Luckily, you remember something you saw at school yesterday; You went to a preppy place called Ouran on a scholarship and it's the only thing keeping you here at this point.

You grin when you pull the poster out from your bag. It's a bit crinkled and torn from being shoved in there but still legible. A nearby cafe is having an open mic night tonight.

Thinking this would be a perfect way to relax and unwind, you grab your electric guitar case and sling it on your shoulder. Checking yourself in the mirror, you see your button-up shirt and slacks that you wore to school and your tiger mouth mask covering your features, your hair poking out from behind. Animals always had a special meaning to you. You had sunglasses on to cover the upper part of your face. (Requester asked that their characters face be covered with a mask and I decided the ranboo route was my favorite idea)

Your grin is masked by, well, your mask, but you knowing it's there is enough. With that, you open your bedroom window and scan the area.

You're not sure if your father's never noticed or just never cared but there's always been a pile of leaves and other debris under your second floor window; it's not the best cushioning but you've used it before when sneaking out and not broken a bone yet.

Shutting your eyes tight, you jump through and attempt to land in a roll, having forgotten about your guitar case. Instead, you land on your case and immediately get up and check it for injuries.

Both you and your guitar seem to have some stress areas and sore spots that can be seen; you have a bruise on your back probably by now and your guitar has some chips in the wood and visible stress cracks forming.

Other than that, nothing seems broken on either of you so you close your case, put it on your back, and begin the two-block trek to the cafe being it just you and your guitar.

~~~

     You had been walking for about ten minutes now and your shoulders have been getting tired from the heavy guitar. However, you don't stop walking until you hear voices coming from a nearby cafe door.

     Making sure your guitar, glasses, and tiger mask are secure, you walk through the door and into the cafe where you plan to relax.

     Dim lights, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and, what you imagine must be the smell of weed. The intoxication of it all leaves a lazy unseen smile on your face, your eyes gleaming as you gaze at the stage at the back of the room. You barely register the onlookers chatting amongst themselves as you make your way towards the stage; There's a lone microphone and guitar speaker and cord, as far as you can tell.