Work Text:
Yoongi had never failed a class before. Not even in high school, where maybe two subjects had actually interested him. He always worked diligently, always handed in his assignments on time, never complained or asked dumb questions in class. And now here he was, at his dream college, doing the one thing he was supposed to be extraordinarily good at, and yet he had somehow managed to fail Production 101. Which meant that he had to retake it this semester. It also meant that he had to retake it with first-year students, fresh out of highschool. So as soon as he woke up from his annoying alarm that morning, his entire body was filled with dread. He made and ate his breakfast grumpy, showered grumpy, dried his blonde hair grumpy and got dressed grumpy. He cursed under his breath as he tied his shoelaces. These were going to be two long hours.
When he entered the classroom he kept his earbuds in his ears, picked a seat at the back of the class, slouched down in his chair and immersed himself in his phone. He was one of the first ones there, and all students who came in after him picked seats closer to the front. When the teacher closed the door, the seats next to Yoongi were still empty, a fact that made him feel accomplished. Class started, Yoongi didn’t really pay much attention to what was being said, and doodled in the margins of the notebook he used for lyrics instead. He knew he was going to have to partner up with someone later, and although he wasn’t looking forward to it, he felt like the doodling had almost made him calm enough to face someone.
After about ten minutes, when the teacher was in the middle of a sentence, there was a loud noise and two panting boys stepped - or well, practically fell - through the door. One of them was tall, with light brown hair, and his eyes were so big from panicking they looked like they were about to pop out of his skull. The other one was shorter, with darker hair, wore a snapback which made his ears fold in a funny way, and looked completely serene.
“Please excuse us,” the tall boy said. “We got lost!”
He bent forward into a perfect 90 degree bow. His friend looked at him for a second before realizing what was happening and copying him.
“That’s alright,” the teacher said a bit sheepishly. “Please take a seat. There’s two available in the back.” He pointed to the seats next to Yoongi, who cursed softly under his breath. The shorter one of the two sat down next to Yoongi, and his friend next to him.
“Hey,” the boy whispered, flashing him the biggest smile Yoongi had ever seen. “I’m Hoseok.”
Yoongi just nodded and continued doodling. After a while, the teacher announced the students would have to pair up, but that there would be one team with three members, as there was an uneven number of students. Yoongi looked up from his notebook and scanned the classroom. Everybody had already formed pairs, which meant that he had to join one. Then, his eyes landed on Hoseok, who was looking straight at him with the same grin as before.
“So,” Hoseok said, holding out his hand for Yoongi to shake. “Do you wanna join our team? We’ve never really done this before, and could use help from a second-year student.”
Yoongi looked over Hoseok’s shoulder at the tall boy, who looked absolutely petrified. Then, he looked at Hoseok again, and noticed his mouth was heart-shaped when he smiled. And suddenly, he felt himself warming up to the kids. A small smile crept onto the elder’s face.
“Sure,” he then said, shaking Hoseok’s hand. “I’m Yoongi. Who’s your friend over there?”
“Oh, that’s Namjoonie,” Hoseok said.
Namjoon waved hesitantly, eyes slightly less big than before. Yoongi thought about it for a moment. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad: he could take them under his wing, teach them what he knew, and let them do most of the work. They didn’t seem like bad company. Hoseok didn’t even seem intimidated by him, like everyone else always was. If things went really well, maybe Yoongi would finally have some people here who he could call his friends.
“Okay,” Hoseok then said. “Let’s get to work. This song isn’t going to write itself.”