Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kids are mean.

Taehyung has always known this, and has always found ways to slip himself out of the way of their cruel intentions.

He’s never been hated at school, but that’s because more often than not he makes himself the butt of the joke so he can laugh with others rather than having people laugh at him.

Which is a powerful thing to be able to do as it keeps the kinks in your protective armour relatively non-existent.

Taehyung doesn’t mind being a comedic genius, either. But sometimes he’s a little too harsh on himself and later struggles to forgive himself for it. His mother always told him that no one in this world will build him up to the heights he wants to be other than himself. So, when he knocks himself down a little too much he feels, somewhat, guilty.

But the world is cruel, kids are mean, and Taehyung knows he’s gotta turn his tricks to survive the harsh realities of life just like everyone else.

Everyone has their place and purpose in high school and Taehyung is the comedic relief that will do anything weird or remotely stupid for a laugh.

God, he sounds so bleak, but he’s been going through a phase of watching 1950s western crime thrillers recently and clearly, it’s rubbing off on him a bit too much.

But anyway, back to the point: kids are mean.

It’s no secret that Park Jimin is bullied. No one really tries to hide their teasing of him, and the teachers tend to turn a blind eye for some reason Taehyung doesn’t understand, nor agrees with, because it just fuels the nastiness tenfold.

The school whispers nasty names behind Jimin’s back, they hide his textbooks and write disgusting things on his desk in red marker pen. But they never touch him, never get physically close to him nor purposefully go out of their way to talk to him.

Taehyung thinks that no type of bullying is the best type of bullying, but he also knows that the way they treat Jimin could be a lot worse. He’s seen bullying get a lot worse in the past, not with Jimin, but with equally unfortunate souls, and he’s glad that Jimin hasn’t been physically hurt.

Yet.

Still, it churns his gut a little uneasily to watch Jimin walk around with his head held high despite the horrible teasing and mildly menacing threats his fellow classmates throw his way. No one deserves this kind of treatment, no matter what they claim they can and cannot do.

Because that’s what everything boils down to in terms of Park Jimin: he claims to see ghosts.

Just like that little kid in the sixth sense.

He talks to them too, or so Taehyung hears. He’s never been placed in a class with Jimin their entire three years together in high school, and considering they’re halfway through their last year he doubts that’s going to change now.

Regardless of not personally knowing Park Jimin, which is the same with the majority of their school, people still know about Park Jimin.

In fact, Taehyung is pretty sure everyone in the country knows of Park Jimin.

Now, he doesn’t understand all the ins and outs as to how Park Jimin landed himself a contract with the biggest TV station in South Korea. But one day, at the excitable age of 10, Taehyung was waiting for his Sunday morning animes to start when an advert for a child medium flashed in front of his eyes.

From what he can remember, the advert wasn’t anything amazing nor groundbreaking. It was just a baby faced Jimin holding the sweetest gum drop smile and telling the world that he could help, that all he wants to do is help.

And the next thing Taehyung knew, Jimin’s face was everywhere . From morning shows, to late night shows, to reality shows to goodman music shows. There was no escape from the little boy medium and people honestly couldn’t get enough of him.

It’s somewhat admirable, Taehyung thinks, that the smile Jimin shows the world never changes and never faulters, even when he’s at school. It’s just sad seeing it holding very little of the light and kindness that Taehyung remembers it holding the first time he saw Park Jimin on TV.

He doesn’t really understand why people at school bully Park Jimin, either. He thinks it would be pretty cool to see ghosts. He’d love to have a long chat with Leonardo DiVinci, language barriers aside, he thinks they would never run out of interesting topics to talk about. Plus, as a bonus, if it turns out ghosts can hold human objects, maybe he’ll draw all over Taehyung’s notebooks while they chat.

But then again, he can see the fear that might be construed in people’s minds around things they don’t understand. Park Jimin’s ability, whether it’s real or not, is something the average Joe can’t understand, after all.

It’s not an excuse, mind, but Taehyung always likes to try and understand why the world works before he goes meddling in it.

He’s still trying to figure out how Jimin’s ability to speak to the dead works, however. Which is probably why he hasn’t reached out to Jimin even though he feels like he should. When he watches Jimin’s show, all he sees is the bereft’s anguish slowly wash from their face with every comforting word Jimin offers them.

And at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter whether Jimin can or cannot see ghosts, not if what he’s doing is trying to bring some kind of solace to the people who have been left behind by the dead.

This is what Taehyung has been thinking about recently. Recently being the past three years of high school in which he watched people he’s supposed to call friends scribble go die across Jimin’s desk and put thumb tacks in his shoes.

Taehyung doesn’t like to call them friends, more like acquaintances . Because they’re nice to him but his mother also taught him that the type of people you associate with reflects on yourself too. And he likes to think he’s better than to bully a kid just because he doesn’t understand what they do.

He supposes that’s why he’s taken a somewhat vigilante stance in regards to the bullying of Park Jimin. He’ll arrive super early at school knowing exactly what his peers had done to Jimin’s belongings the night before, and will correct the wrong doings before the boy sees the hate.

Whether it’s scrubbing Jimin’s desk with rubbing alcohol, or collecting his textbooks from the river that runs parallel to the bicycle racks and drying them under the hand dryers in the bathroom, or even sewing up the holes that had been snipped in his gym clothes. Taehyung tries his best to make the day a little less awful for Jimin.

The thing with kids, Taehyung has come to find, they don’t like to be told that they’re wrong. So, he doesn’t bother making a big deal out of what he does. He’s been caught a few times, and his classmates have teased him and asked him oddly politely to stay out of things. But Taehyung has never really been very good at doing what others want, especially if he doesn’t agree with it. So after a while they stopped bothering to call out his vigilante ways. 

But the most important thing for Taehyung is that Jimin doesn’t know that he does this. Because he’s given it a lot of thought, and if he were in Jimin’s shoes, he thinks he’d be a little pissed that someone feels the need to offer him charity but not curtesy.

Sometimes, while Taehyung’s sitting at his desk in the back of the class, pretending to not be excited by the fact first period is English class and he’s been practicing super hard at his pronunciation recently, he’ll see Jimin from the classroom over. He’ll watch the boy walk over to his desk and frown down at it before looking around the room in confusion.

The desk isn’t spotlessly clean, because if you've ever tried to scrub permanent marker clean, you’ll know it leaves somewhat of a stain if you don’t periodically clean it. And by the time the next day rolls around for the desks second scrubbing, there’s just new slurs decorating the surface and Taehyung has to start all over again.

So, the evidence of the bullying is there, but the intent behind it is blurred and it’s honestly the best Taehyung can do with the limited resources and time that he has.

But in that brief moment, where Jimin tries to comprehend why a school that is so obviously against him would have a soul in it willing to offer him a small kindness, Taehyung gets to see a genuine smile tug upwards at Jimin’s pretty pink lips.

It’s small and a little shy, but Taehyung maintains it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He wishes more than anything that Park Jimin would smile more.

___________

Taehyung taps his foot against the beaten hardwood of the classroom floor and frowns out the window, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He can still smell rubbing alcohol on his skin, which leaves his face drooping in a pout.

Jimin hasn’t been at school for two weeks now, and yet people still feel the need to assert their superiority. Which is just a waste of time and effort on everyone’s behalf if you asked Taehyung. But what he’s really worrying about is the fact Jimin’s been away from school longer than usual.

Being a household name, it’s not unusual for Jimin to be absent often for filming schedules, but that usually only meant a few days, not a few weeks.

Was Taehyung missing seeing him around?

Probably.

Will he sit here and pout until Jimin comes back?

Most definitely.

A long sigh pushes its way out of his lips, his breath hitting the window and fogging it ever so slightly. It’s dangerously nearing 40 Celsius outside despite it being mid-September, so the AC in their classrooms is blasting out the coolest air it can muster. Unfortunately, however, the AC unit is old and sometimes turns their classroom into the arctic.

Letting a long shiver rack down his back, Taehyung stretches out his muscles and turns his attention back to his class. Not everyone is here yet, they’re Seniors and should be setting an example for the lower years, but there must be only a handful of kids who turn up to homeroom on time.

Taehyung being one of them.

His seatmate, Lee Anju, is another. He’s studious, on route to being a doctor and doesn’t let a thing like popularity and doing what’s cool get in the way of achieving his dreams. That’s what Taehyung likes about him; that he marches to the beat of his own drum and that he has a set goal he wants to accomplish.

For Taehyung, his future dream changes every week, and he realised from an early age that there’s so much he wants to try and accomplish in this world so he couldn’t possibly narrow everything down to one solid career choice.

He’s a bit like a mood ring. He’ll study and focus on whatever he feels like in the moment. Of which is pretty risqué in this world what with how bad the economy is and the need for a stable steady career and income is necessary for survival.

Damn, he’s beginning to sound like his dad.

Shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, Taehyung leans back in his chair and watches the late summer sun dance across the off-white tiles of the ceiling. It casts the room into such a gentle golden glow that it renders the overhead lights useless.

It’s nice.

“Morning, all,” the loud and commanding voice of their class’ most popular personality greets, sliding the door to the classroom open a little too forcefully until it slams harshly with the wall. The majority of the class flinches at the unnecessarily loud entrance so early in the morning, and Choi Daejun offers them all an apologetic smile.

Taehyung smirks, Daejun is so oblivious to those around him half the time, it’s endearing sometimes. They’ve known each other since they were tots in Elementary school fighting over who gets to be the pirate captain during break time.

Daejun is easy to get along with, easy to hold a conversation with and easy to like. He listens so eagerly and intently to what people say to him, almost as though he’s listening to the world's most entertaining audio book. He’ll strike up a conversation with anyone, whether he knows them or not, and there’s never any need to try and be friends with him, Daejung considered everyone and anyone a friend.

Except, Park Jimin. No one considered Park Jimin a friend.

With a loud thump, Daejung deposits his school bag on the desk in front of Taehyung, causing another wave of flinching amongst the class to which this time the boy doesn’t apologise for. “I hear Park isn’t in again today,” he comments offhandedly.

Taehyung hums. “He’s been away a little longer than usual,” he answers, frown deepening.

Lee Anju puts down his pencil and cocks his head. “I guess being a big-name TV star takes up more time than one would think.”

“He already has a set career for the rest of his life,” Daejung shrugs. “So, I guess school is a little irrelevant to him.”

Something about that comment doesn’t sit right with Taehyung. He’s fairly decent when it comes to testing, not so much when it comes to listening in class, so cramming the night before is like second nature to him. His test scores always land him just above average when the results are posted at the end of each semester.

But Jimin is always way closer to the top.

He cares, clearly, he cares.

“I wonder if the teachers send him the material he misses,” Taehyung muses aloud, it honestly wouldn’t surprise him if they didn’t. It’s clear they don’t care all that much about Park Jimin, after all, else Taehyung could sleep in longer in the mornings and not run around pretending to be the High School Batman.

Anju pulls out his math textbook, placing it under his pencil case before closing his notebook. “He probably has a tutor; he never fails a test after all.”

“That makes sense,” Taehyung nods, maybe he should get ready for first period too? But he has this sinking suspicion he might have left his math textbook at home.

With a long, weary sigh, Daejung finally sits at his desk. Almost as though he's a middle aged man with the weight of the world on his shoulders rather than a high school kid. Taehyung even hears his hips and knees crack a little painfully. “Whatever it is,” he says. “Doesn’t matter much to me.”

Something acidic bubbles on the back of Taehyung’s tongue that he struggles to swallow down. He really wished this sort of thing did matter to others.

___________

Predictably, Taehyung daydreams throughout his day, not even bothering to pull his textbook or notebook out of his desk for a single lesson. A luxury that befalls having the desk on the back row by the window: too far away for the teacher to scold him for slacking off.

Honestly, he should probably pay a little more attention to his classes considering College entrance exams are right around the corner, but there are other things on his mind.

Like whether Jimin is getting the necessary materials for the classes that he’s missing.

The irony is not lost on him.

Taehyung likes to think that he’s not obsessed with Park Jimin. He just thinks the kid is very sweet and has been dealt a rough hand and everyone should have at least one person in their corner.

Distantly, he hears Professor Kim, who ironically is Jimin’s homeroom teacher, mention something about how for the next few questions he’s going to write an example answer for on the board that everyone should follow when answering exam questions, and Taehyung thinks that this is something very important that Jimin shouldn’t be missing. Maybe he should make a copy of his own notes and slip them discreetly into Jimin’s desk when he goes to clean it in the morning? Taehyung would at least feel somewhat safer in the knowledge that Jimin definitely has access to the materials he missed.  

Turning his gaze from the sports field, of which the first years are struggling to complete an endurance run in the sweltering heat, Taehyung looks down at his empty desk and realises that he can’t very well copy notes for Jimin when his own are non-existent.

Maybe he can borrow Anju’s? He knows the smarty pants writes rough notes during class and then writes up more detailed notes before he goes home. He probably wouldn’t mind lending the rough notes to Taehyung for the night, it’s not like he uses those to study with.

Glancing briefly at the clock, Taehyung bites down hard on his lip, there’s only a few hours left till school gets out and yet it feels like first period just started.

God, he really needs to pay more attention.

__________  

The best thing about summer is how golden it is.

The day’s stretch out just a little longer than they normally would, finding a newfound energy to chase away the night. At four in the afternoon, the world is cast into honey golds that bring a lightness to Taehyung’s chest and a smile to his lips.

He doesn’t mind staying late to copy Anju’s notes, not when he can turn the freezing cold AC off and throw open the windows to let in the afternoon breeze. It brings in the lingering smells of summer on its back; the soft undertones of freshly cut grass and the overbearing scent of pollen that cuts through the air and tickles his nose. He thinks maybe he can smell grilled meat mixed in with the ever-present scent of honeysuckle from the bushes that line the school field, but maybe that’s just his hunger talking.

His only soundtrack to his hard work is the steady trickling of the river and the last remaining cicadas chirping their final summer melody. It’s comforting, maybe a little too comforting, as the next thing Taehyung realises he’s fallen asleep at his desk.

Slowly and carefully, Taehyung uncurls his muscles, so they don’t pull stiff and tight when he stands up later. A gentle groan falls from his lips before he finally pushes his back straight against his chair rest. With his mouth caught mid yawn, Taehyung stretches his arms above his head and finally opens his eyes to find that he’s no longer sitting alone.   

Bathed in the golden rays of the afternoon sun, looking dainty and somewhat small in Daejun’s chair, sits none other than Park Jimin.

There’s something about the way the afternoon sun hit’s Jimin’s caramel skin that makes it glow. The plump of his cheeks is smooth and blushing ever so gently in pink. Teeth bite into the plush of his bottom lip, and his eyes, his sweet almond eyes, are speckled with light. Like fireworks in the night sky. They hold Taehyung’s gaze somewhat nervously, but those dark brown irises are hypnotising, ever so easy to fall into.

Yes, there’s just something about the way the afternoon sun hits Jimin’s caramel skin that stirs something new within Taehyung. It makes his heart thump a little faster, it makes his hands feel somewhat sweaty and his entire body feels as though it’s filled with hot air.

Jimin looks so pretty in the radiant gold of the late summer sun. His dark hair curls a little like it’s been styled with product even though that’s most definitely against school rules; but Taehyung’s slowly churning brain notices that he’s not dressed in their school uniform so that doesn’t really matter.

“Oh,” Taehyung finally says, lowering his arms to his desk and licking at his dry lips. “Am I still dreaming?”

For a moment, Jimin doesn’t move, his expression doesn’t faulter and Taehyung thinks that’s answer enough to his question. But then the boy blinks, eyelashes kissing his cheeks, and he crosses one leg over the other.

“No,” Jimin replies, and it’s so strange hearing that softly spoken voice in real life rather than through the TV. “You’re not dreaming.”

Taehyung’s lips twist a little. “You weren’t here today.”

Jimin nods. “I came back to collect the work from the lessons I missed from Professor Kim.” Taehyung’s eyes widen, hands suddenly splaying across the notebooks on his desk, embarrassment staining his cheeks.

The action catches Jimin’s attention, eyes falling to the desk. “Oh, did you miss some classes too?” he asks kindly, cautiously, almost like he’s waiting to be told to shut up.

But Taehyung would never tell Jimin to shut up. In fact, he’d really rather like it if he could listen to Jimin talk for the rest of their lives. There’s a bit of a lisp to his voice that Taehyung hadn’t noticed before that’s so endearingly sweet. His tone is smooth, melodic like a lullaby, lilting with compassion that Taehyung supposes probably makes him an excellent medium.

If he were in need to talk to a lost loved one, he would feel incredibly comforted to hear their words through Jimin’s voice, that’s for certain.

“Ahh, ahh…” Taehyung stutters, snapping the books closed and pushing them to the side. “No, um, it’s nothing,” he mumbles, propping his elbow on top of the needless notes and resting his chin in the palm of his hands. “I’m glad Professor Kim kept all the work you missed,” he says, in a way of easy subject change. “You missed a lot.”

There’s a new glittering in Jimin’s dark eyes, a knowing that Taehyung doesn’t understand. But he has little time to dwell on it, because there’s a small shy smile tugging at Jimin’s lips that Taehyung finds he oh so adores to see.

Jimin ducks his head, slipping his hands under his thighs. “You were worried.” It’s not a question.

The blush across Taehyung’s cheeks burns and he slaps his hands against the heat. “Of course,” he mumbles, feeling a little foolish. “You were gone for two weeks, that’s a lot of school to miss for Seniors.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, but his shy smile doesn’t faulter and Taehyung can’t seem to take his eyes off of it.

“Did you finish what you needed to do?” Taehyung eventually asks, he’s never been one to enjoy the silence, especially when silence stops him from talking to someone he’s always wanted to talk to but never found the courage too.

Nodding just once, Jimin turns his gaze back up to Taehyung. “I’ll be back at school tomorrow.”

That’s good, that’s nice. “Kinda sucks you gotta come back mid-week.”

Jimin shrugs. “I like school.”

“Now there’s something you don’t hear very often,” Taehyung chuckles, smile cheekily wide across his face as he leans closer to Jimin across the desk. “I don’t know a single teen that enjoys spending all their time at school.”

That pretty dusting of pink across Jimin’s skin turns a darker shade and it makes his cheeks look delicious enough to eat. “Well, high school is important, we pay to be here, why waste money like that?” he defends, voice a little quieter. 

Humming, Taehyung clasps his hands together atop his desk. “So, you mean to say that those of us that dislike school are wasting money by being here?”

Jimin chews on his lip. “No,” he counters quickly. “I mean to say, if you’ve paid to be here, why waste money moping around about being here, when you can throw your all into your studies and come out knowing a little more about the world than you did before.”

Wow, Taehyung really likes the positivity of that point of view. He smiles, cheeks hurting. “You’re interesting, Park Jimin.”

There’s something defensive about the way Jimin curls into himself at Taehyung’s words. “Why?” he asks, voice so sadly small. “Because I like school?”

“Well, for lots of reasons,” Taehyung justifies.

“You don’t even really know me, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin counters, his voice takes on a sharp defensive nature that Taehyung struggles to push past.

“Then the lots of reasons you’re interesting are just waiting for me to discover, aren’t they?” Taehyung rationalizes, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk.

His response seems to stump Jimin. Mouth opening and closing on words he’s unsure he should say. But eventually, that small shy smile curls the corners of Jimin’s plump lips upwards again, and Taehyung feels like he’s been rewarded for being good.

Jimin nods, eyes hidden behind slightly curled bangs, uncrossing his legs just to cross them again.

It’s cute, Jimin’s timid nature. Taehyung dreads to think that perhaps this side of him is from years of bullying, pushing him into a more submissive, cautious character than who he really is.

He can’t be certain that’s true, he doesn’t know Jimin well enough to be certain. But he hopes that’s not the case. He’ll just have to get to know Jimin better to make sure his suspicions aren’t true.

“I should get going,” Jimin finally says, standing quickly to his feet, curly black locks brushing over his eyes. “My Mom will be worried,” he adds as way of excuse. He pushes his bangs away from his face, the golden light of the afternoon sun highlights the pink dusting his cheeks and it makes Taehyung feel all gooey inside.

Taehyung nods, resting his chin in both his palms. He kicks his legs out, leaning on the backs of his shoes to sway his feet from side to side. “Please, don’t let me keep you.”

For a moment, Jimin looks torn, the long sleeve top he’s wearing is loose on his slight frame and he nervously fidgets with the hem of it. The fabric is white and black stripped and thin, like it’s made from cotton. It falls over his little hands, swamping them and rests about mid-thigh, his roughly cut jean shorts filling in the gap left between the edge of his top and his knees. He looks very fashionable, Taehyung notes, comfortably fashionable, which he supposes Jimin needs to be considering he’s somewhat of a celebrity.

Jimin spins on his heels towards the door. Pauses. Pushes his hair from his face again, and then spins back to Taehyung. “Um,” he begins, lip caught between his teeth.

Taehyung nods encouragingly. “How can I help?”

There’s that sweet smile again and Taehyung’s insides light up like it’s Christmas. “Well, actually, I was wondering. If I can have a copy of those notes?”

Something swoops in Taehyung’s stomach, like he’s reached the very top point of the tallest rollercoaster at an amusement park and is about to go plummeting down a sheer drop. “Y-you want my notes?”

For the second time, Taehyung sees that knowing glint in Jimin’s eyes, a knowing he’s unsure of. “Well, you did go through all the trouble,” Jimin mumbles in reply and Taehyung finds his cheeks blazing with a flush that could melt stone.

He swallows down a lump in the back of his throat, covering his mouth with his hands, eyes cast down to the desk. “Can I give them to you tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

Taehyung nods, not sure what else he should say, which is madness. It’s not often he’s rendered speechless, but he guesses if anyone were to, it would be Park Jimin. “Okay,” he parrots, eyes catching as Jimin turns on his heels once more.

Neither of them say goodbye, not with the promise of tomorrow on the air. And as Jimin leaves the classroom, he takes with him the last of the afternoon sun.

____________

The next morning Taehyung finds himself incredibly excited.

He arrives early, he finds no nasty surprises in Jimin’s shoe locker, finds no messages scribbled across his desk but does see that his gym clothes have been thrown on the roof.

He gives Jimin’s desk a quick scrub down with rubbing alcohol, just to make it extra clean for once, before he practically skips his way up to the top floor and uses a badminton racket that has been left abandoned in the stairwell for a good three months to retrieve the stolen gym clothes from the roof.  

Maybe Taehyung has just enough time to throw them in the washing machine in the nurse’s office? He’s here far earlier than he usually is, but the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach had him building up an impatience he knew he’d never be able to curb.

The prospect of seeing Jimin’s sweet little smile again, and not from afar this time, is like having his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. He can’t remember when the centre of his universe shifted from being the sun to Jimin, but honestly Taehyung can’t really find it in himself to care.

He’s always wished he’d had more courage to reach out to Jimin. Even if it was just to wish him a good morning and a safe journey home. But being a somewhat awkward teenage boy with little to no understanding of how to hold normal conversation with someone you’ve come to care for, Taehyung lacked the confidence to throw the first stone.

Madness, he knows, as he’s always been easy to get on with, easy to talk to and easy to reach out to because that’s the way he likes to present himself for people. 

By the time Jimin’s gym clothes smell like generic brand detergent, a little cheap but clean nonetheless, Taehyung can hear more voices at the school gate and echoing through the corridors. He hurries over to Jimin’s classroom, places the clothes neatly atop his desk and with one final happy pat atop the bundle, he turns and walks over to his own classroom.

And there, at his desk, he sits.

He waits.

Anju is the first of his own class to arrive, looking a little bit dead to the world as he nurses an obscenely large iced Americano. He dumps his bag on the floor by his desk, slumping into his chair like his bones weigh a tonne.

“Ouch, those bags under your eyes don’t look so good,” Taehyung chides, teasing lilt to his voice.

But Anju just lets out a long yawn, slumping forward against his desk. “So, tired,” he mumbles, almost like a zombie. Taehyung thinks it best to maybe not probe the exhausted kid for more conversation, the precious extra minutes of sleep he can get before homeroom are clearly very needed.

Slowly, like a gentle trickle of water along a creek, more and more seniors saunter into classrooms and greet their friends before setting up for another day of learning. Taehyung tries not to make it too obvious that he’s watching Jimin’s desk. His body is turned towards the front of the class, his chin resting in the palm of his hand and his eyes every now and then drift over to the classroom across the way.

Eventually, Jimin makes it to his classroom, greeting his class with a polite: “Good morning.”

It’s met with silence. Barely anyone even bothering to spare a glance in his direction, but the cold response doesn’t seem to unsettle Jimin for even a moment. He marches over to his desk with his head held high and gently places his bag besides his chair.

He seems to freeze as he spots what’s waiting for him. His eyes run over his gym clothes, slowly. Once, twice, before he reaches out for them, fingers dancing along the soft white shirt.

Taehyung feels like his heart is about to leap right out of his throat.

When Jimin brings himself back down to reality, his eyes dance nervously about the room and Taehyung has exactly three seconds to make it look as though he wasn’t staring at Jimin before he feels the boy’s heavy gaze on the side of his face.

There’s sweat collecting at the back of his neck, dripping down the back of his school shirt and his hands feel clammy. He’s not sure whether he’s passing at being nonchalant, but he’s pretty sure Anju can hear his heart thumping in his chest like a big brass band.

It’s a few minutes before Taehyung chances a glance over to Jimin once more. The boy has sat himself in his chair and is busying himself with getting ready for the day. For some reason, though, Jimin has tucked the clean gym clothes into the cubby of his desk where his books usually go, and is instead keeping his school supplies stacked on his desk.

Which is really stupid, if you ask Taehyung, because the school’s desk are already illegally small and have no real arm support for the amount of note taking that needs to happen. Jimin should just shove the gym clothes in his bag.

“Good morning!” Daejun bellows, slamming the door open as is routine every morning, only this time, it gains a scolding from Cha Hejin who sits right by the door.

The sudden announcement of the boy’s arrival snaps Taehyung’s attention for a split second, and when he looks back to Jimin, he finds the boy smiling sweetly at him.

Maybe Taehyung is imagining it, but the smile looks a little bigger than usual. It makes his cheeks squish upwards and his eyes crinkle just a little. Taehyung gasps, before composing himself and sending as wide a smile as he can muster back in Jimin’s direction.

It feels simply amazing to know that he’s the reason for Jimin’s smile this morning.

___________

The two don’t find time to talk during the school day, sadly.

It’s not until Taehyung is sat alone in an empty classroom at the end of the day, watching the seniors scurry home to study and the 2 nd and 1 st years set up for club activities on the school field, that he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder.

Taehyung snaps his head around so quickly he’s surprised it doesn’t twinge his neck all kinds of painful. “Hi!” he exclaims, offering Jimin a small wave. “Come for the notes?”

Jimin, who looks just as happy now as he had when they locked eyes this morning, nods his head gently. His hands are clasped behind his back and his hair is pushed roughly away from his face. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

Shaking his head, Taehyung hooks his foot under Daejun’s chair and pulls it out for Jimin. “Never too much trouble,” he explains. “Step into my office.”

The next thing Taehyung hears very well knocks the breath right out of his lungs.

Jimin giggles as he sits.

Taehyung’s hands faulter at the melodic sound, and the notes he’d spent all yesterday evening scribbling over scatter haphazardly across the beaten hardwoods.

The way in which Jimin giggles is reminiscent to how wind chimes sing in the breeze or how bells twinkle – pleasant and calming, but also somewhat addictive in nature.

“Everything alright?” Jimin asks, snapping Taehyung back to reality. A reality in which he’s staring slack jawed at the other boy a little too intently, a little too passionately, and the silence that’s stretched between them has gone on far longer than is politely appropriate.

Slowly, Taehyung looks down at his feet, gawking at the notes. “How did they get there?” he muses, thankful for something to do that hides the blush on his face.

Carefully he scoops the sheets into a neat pile before plopping them back on his desk. He chances a glance Jimin’s way and finds utter amusement dancing through his sparkling brown eyes, a hand covering the smile that Taehyung so loves.

“Something funny, Park?” he grunts, pouting like a small child.

That only seems to fuel Jimin’s glee. “Not really,” he explains, propping his elbow on Taehyung’s desk and resting his chin in his palm.

Silence fills the space between them. It’s thick, suffocating and yet comforting. Like being swaddled under a weighted blanket on a cold night. Taehyung wants to say something, wants to use the time they’re sharing together wisely, but he somewhat enjoys the silence.

He enjoys the way Jimin’s eyes glide gently over his face, as if etching every aspect to memory, as if Taehyung were something as calming and wonderful as the view of the ocean from a cliff that Jimin doesn’t want to forget.

Taehyung thinks no one has ever looked at him that way and it sort of hurts.

So, he scoffs, placing his hands over his cheeks and setting a wide grin across his face. “You could take a picture? It would last longer.” He expects Jimin to giggle again, but instead there’s a melancholic droop to the boy’s eyes that has him pushing away from Taehyung’s desk.

“You’re very sweet you know?” Jimin says, changing the subject. “For writing out a whole two weeks’ worth of notes for me.”

There’s something awkward charged in the air, a complete contrast to what they had built. Jimin won’t look at him and Taehyung feels like he might have done something wrong. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles, hands falling a little limp in his lap. “They’re not copied from my notes, don’t worry,” he reassures with a small smirk on his lips. “I wanna help you pass High School not fail.”

Jimin snorts, fingertips running across the stack of notes. “You do tend to sleep more than the average student in class.”

There’s a warm blush brushing across Taehyung’s cheeks, a giddy feeling running through his veins that makes him want to giggle. “You’ve been watching me?”

The little dance of Jimin’s fingers across the notes stills. His eyelashes flutter like the wings of butterflies, faster and faster as he comprehends what to say next. “Well, I, Um—”

A triumphant smirk pulls at Taehyung cheeks. “You’ve been chancing glances at me when you think I’m not looking, Park?” he teases, Jimin’s stuttering continues. “Have you been ogling at my rugged good looks?”

This time, Jimin’s entire face is beetroot, eyes blown wide like he can’t for the life of him believe this is what’s happening right now. Who knew the school’s little celebrity could be so easily flustered?

Taehyung loves it.

“I have not been ogling,” Jimin mutters hurried.

Taehyung doesn’t buy it for a moment. “You’ve been captivated by my good looks!”

“No!” 

“Enchanted by dashing personality.”

“Oh god, please stop—"

“Hypnotised by my fine ass—”

Jimin leans across the table, hands covering Taehyung’s mouth to silence him once and for all. There’s an irritated smile on the boy’s plush lips though, face still comically red but it’s clear he’s a little endeared and honestly it makes Taehyung inflate with hot air.

“You think awfully highly of yourself,” says Jimin, sitting back in his chair and removing the warm touch of his hands against Taehyung’s lips.

Is it incredibly extra for Taehyung to swoon over the fact that he just subtly and accidentally kissed Park Jimin’s hand?

Probably.

But he’ll still go home tonight and giggle over it, daydreaming over the incident whilst rolling around in his bed and flailing his legs and arms until he’s tangled in his bed sheets.

Leaning back in his chair, Taehyung folds his arms about his chest. “Of course,” he answers. “If there’s anyone who should love me in this world it should be myself.”

“Philosophical,” Jimin muses.

“Natural,” Taehyung counters. “Everyone wants to be loved, to be adored and cared for. But I find that most of the time we receive the love we think we deserve, and sadly, a large portion of humanity struggles to love themselves or even simply like themselves. So how can we expect to be loved if we don’t even love ourselves?”

He’s rambling, getting lost on a topic that could spur the most interesting debates that last for hours on end. But he’s also only 18 years old and most people his age can’t comprehend the fact they have to go to College in a few months let alone comprehend the internal struggles humanity is faced with.

Sheepishly, Taehyung ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m hot as hell what’s not to love about myself?” He jokes, but the humour laced into his voice is flat, forced.

There’s a beat of silence, awkwardly sharp and Taehyung feels a bit like an animal put on display. He turns his head back up to Jimin, smile wide on his face and a subject change on the tip of his tongue – but instead he’s brought face to face with disappointment.

Disappointment in the downward droop of Jimin’s almond shaped eyes, disappointment in the pout of his plush lips and disappointment in the furrow of his brow.

Suddenly, Taehyung feels more like an elementary student waiting for discipline after acting up in front of their parent.

“Don’t do that,” Jimin finally says, tone gentle but with a sharp reprimand Taehyung thinks he shouldn’t take lightly.

Taehyung shrugs. “Do what?” He tries to keep his tone light, casual.

But clearly the nonchalant way Taehyung holds himself is not something Jimin likes. He huffs, folding his arms about his chest like a disappointed mother and pulls his lips into a thin harsh line. “Don’t be what you’re not for the sake of others.”

The smile on Taehyung’s face drops just a little. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jimin isn’t buying what Taehyung is selling today, it would seem. The boy cocks his head to one side in a sharp move that has Taehyung flinching just a little. “I see you, Kim Taehyung,” he says, words so weighty as they hang in the air. “You can try to hide, but I see you.”

And to that, Taehyung struggles to find an answer to, struggles to grapple together a decent enough quip that can turn the now incredibly heavy conversation into something more light-hearted, something more fun.

He’s the mood maker, that’s his role in school. He makes himself the butt of jokes so that he can laugh with others rather than have them laugh at him and it’s been keeping him going through  thus far.

There’s a lump wedged in the back of his throat and he swallows once, twice. He coughs awkwardly, trying to push a sentence together and past his lips, but it’s hard when there are too many things going on inside your head.

Eventually, there’s a gentle sigh that snaps Taehyung’s attention back to Jimin who’s whole demeanor has melted back into something soft. There’s pity in his eyes. Pity. It’s stitched into his smile and makes his eyes an uncomfortable gentle. Almost like he’s looking at a baby animal rather than at Taehyung.

“Hey,” Jimin says and his voice is louder in the silence than Taehyung expected it to be. “Do you like kimbap?”

Taehyung didn’t realise he was holding his breath until it gratefully comes rushing past his lips. “Who doesn’t love kimbap?” he asks, voice only a little broken.

Jimin either doesn’t seem to notice or chooses not to comment on it, taking the notes into his hands and holding them against his chest. “I’m, uh, not very good at cooking,” says Jimin, smile shy on his lips. “But I can make kimbap.”

“Okay?” Taehyung replies, head cocked to one side and unsure of where this is going.

With an awkward little cough, Jimin jumps to his feet and Taehyung feels something heavy drop in his stomach – he doesn’t want Jimin to leave.

“Well, we can eat them, the kimbap, together, if you, um, if you want?” Jimin stutters like he’s on trial.

The cogs in Taehyung’s head turn slowly, comprehending Jimin’s words at a speed of a snail. “Eat kimbap together?” he repeats his smooth caveman speak that has him cringing.

Jimin nods dizzily. “As a thank you, for the notes,” he adds, holding the papers out from his chest for emphasis.

“You’ll make kimbap?” Taehyung asks again, still comprehending what’s going on.

Jimin looks at his feet. “You can say no.”

“Why would I say no when I can say yes?” Taehyung counters, somewhat horrified that Jimin would think Taehyung would ever say no to spending time with him.

Gingerly, Jimin turns his attention back to Taehyung and a smile spreads slowly across his lips. “So, you’ll eat with me?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing,” Taehyung smiles softly, cool hands resting against his flushed cheeks.

The flush in his face is mirrored across Jimin’s face too, the smaller boy looking positively gleeful as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Okay, yeah, great!” he exclaims, a little too excitedly. “For lunch, tomorrow?”

“I’ll tell my mum not to pack me food,” Taehyung winks and Jimin bites down harsh on his bottom lip, eyes hardening just a little. There’s a tinge of sadness to his face that looks wholly out of place in the situation and it has worry clawing in Taehyung’s gut.

But Jimin is quick to school his features, apples of his cheeks redder than before. “Well, bye then,” he nods, spinning on his heels and booking it towards the door.

Saddened by Jimin leaving, Taehyung can’t help but chuckle at the cute way he waddles out the room, can’t help but feel as light as air over the fact they get to spend more time together.

“Goodbye, Park Jimin,” he calls just as Jimin rounds the door out of sight.

Taehyung’s honestly not sure what it is about Jimin he likes so much, besides the obvious fact he’s adorable and handsome to boot. But Taehyung is more than a little excited to find out why he’s drawn to Jimin like a moth to a flame.

____________

“I made three kinds,” Jimin explains, he won’t look Taehyung in the eye as he pulls out three containers packed neatly with kimbap.

Taehyung is practically buzzing where he sits, hands wedged under his legs to keep himself calm. The two of them are having a stereotypical anime High School lunch date on the roof and Taehyung is trying so hard not to giggle in utter glee. He doesn’t want to scare Jimin off, his mother tells him often that he can be a little overbearing when it comes to first impressions, and sometimes less is more.

She’s of the mindset that friendship and relationships thrive off give and take, push and pull.

Keep the people wanting more, Little Bear, always keep the people wanting more .

“Remember, I’m not very good at cooking—”

Taehyung makes a dismissive noise. “I burn popcorn in the microwave.”

That gets Jimin to finally look at him, shy little smile on his face as he places the containers between them. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me all that much.” 

The shit-eating grin Taehyung offers Jimin has the smaller boy’s head ducking once more. “Just, enjoy as much as you want, I made a lot.”

“That’s an understatement,” Taehyung chuckles. “You’ve got enough here to feed a small army.”

“Well,” Jimin huffs, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You’re on the taller side and I just assumed tall people like more.”

Taehyung chuckles. “You’re not wrong there,” he agrees and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “It smells really good,” he says, earnestly.

There’s a pretty little tinge to Jimin’s cheeks that makes Taehyung almost explode with pride. “I’m glad. My dad taught me how to make it back when I was really small.” Jimin pulls his knees up to his chest, chin resting atop them. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to eat them again.”

“Do you not make them for yourself?” Taehyung asks, busy fussing over which type of kimbap he wants to try first. There’s something so nostalgic about home cooked food. It makes Taehyung think of family meals and helping his mother in the kitchen when he was little and wasn’t allowed to do anything other than wash the vegetables.

Eating home cooked food is honestly one of the best things in the world, if you were to ask Taehyung.

Jimin’s eyes look at the food he’s made, raking slowly over each roll. “Not really,” he finally mutters.

Taehyung can feel something thick fall heavily over them and he swallows down a lump in his throat. This is supposed to be fun, not melancholic. “Well,” he hums. “If I could make kimbap this amazing, I’d be eating it every day.”

Thankfully, whatever low spell Jimin had cast himself under evaporates and he chuckles. “Wouldn’t you get bored?”

“Why would I get bored if the food is good?” Taehyung asks, a cock to his head.

“Because repetitive things are boring.”

“But it tastes good , what does it matter if it’s the same thing all the time?”

Jimin bites down on his bottom lip, smile twisting up at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I can make you kimbap every day if you want?”

Taehyung’s mouth falls open, and he’s pretty certain Jimin must have an excellent view of his lunch rolling around inside. “You would do that?”

Nodding softly, Jimin diverts his eyes to his pants and pulls at a loose thread along the seams. “Would it make you happy?” he asks, quietly.

“Happy would be an understatement!” Taehyung replies enthusiastically. “No one besides my Mom has made me home cooked food before.”

Jimin’s face twists. “With the amount of people you surround yourself with, I find that hard to believe.” His words aren’t bitter, nor are they carved kindly. And Taehyung, not for the first time in their short interaction, feels like he’s being left out of the loop.

There’s a cool breeze on the roof that brings the sharp smell of the river on its backs. For some reason, the sun is shy today, hiding its warmth behind fluffy white clouds and casting pretty sunspots across the earth every now and then. It’s not cold, far from it with how thick the humidity is today, but it’s a far better temperature to handle than what the summer has thrown at them thus far.    

Twisting his lips into a tight line, Taehyung lets a long breath fall through his nose. “You, of all people, should know better than to judge a person before you get to know them,” he scolds lightly, but with enough bite so that Jimin knows he’s not messing around.

He watches as Jimin’s entire frame seizes up as though frozen in place, eyes blown wide and mouth opening and closing on wordless thoughts like a fish. “I wasn’t judging you,” he finally mumbles, quietly.

“I know,” Taehyung replies, shuffling carefully on his butt around the food so that he can lean heavily against Jimin’s shoulder. He turns his head to the sky, just as the sun breaks through a particularly fluffy cloud and enjoys the warming rays on his face.

Jimin’s hair is straight today and obviously lacking product and styling. Taehyung has noticed he has this habit of pushing his long bangs from his face, fingers tangling with the dark brown strands and making it stick up waywardly.

It’s odd how Jimin presents himself as a model high school student to the public, but his appearance at school is far from the clean cut organised appearance he holds on TV.

His pants are old, clearly the same pair he’s been wearing the entire three years of high school. The hems are a little too short to cover his ankles now and there are more loose threads in the seams than there are threads holding the pants together. His polo-shirt is now an off white colour from one too many washes and stains that just didn’t want to come out. Taehyung can’t remember the last time Jimin wore his school tie, either.

It’s not like Park Jimin is lacking money to buy himself a new uniform, or new notebooks so he can stop scribbling his notes in the margins of his freshman notebook. Taehyung’s not sure exactly how much a TV celebrity makes, but it's more than probably every single household income of their entire grade. Maybe even the school.

Come to think of it, nearly everything Jimin owns is old: his school bag has gone through so many rips and tears and dips in the river that Jimin has taken to carrying his heavy textbooks home in his arms rather than the flimsy bag. His indoor shoes, of which were once dyed blood red by one of their upperclassmen last year, still hold a slight pink tinge to them and his outdoor shoes are a pair of trainers that are missing the shoelaces.

Taehyung turns his face away from the sky once the sun goes back into hiding, he turns to find Jimin staring at him, eyes boring holes into his skin and body recoiling from Taehyung’s closeness just a little.

But Taehyung has never really been one to know when to stop. He reaches out to another loose thread along the seam of Jimin’s pants and pulls it carefully out. “Things are never usually what they appear to be on the surface, are they, Park Jimin?” he asks softly.

Jimin smacks Taehyung’s hand away and scuttles as far away from him as possible. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps.

With a deep sigh, Taehyung leans back on his hands. “Probably,” he agrees, and the look of disgust on Jimin’s face never once leaves. “But if you were to ever need someone to understand, then you can always tell me.”

The way in which Jimin cowers as far away from Taehyung as possible reminds him of a small animal caught in the trap of a predator. But the way in which his eyebrows pinch and his mouth twists into a defensive sneer makes it very clear that Jimin is a little animal that won’t go down without a fight.

Eventually, Jimin’s body starts to move, putting the lids back on the food he’d made and stuffing them into the carrier bag he had brought them in. Without a word he stands to his feet, dusts the dirt from the back of his legs, and leaves.

The door to the roof echoes loudly in the air when Jimin slams it shut behind himself and Taehyung flops onto his back with a frustrated groan.

“Nice going Tae Tae,” he mumbles, covering his face with his arms.

___________

For a few days, Jimin avoids him and Taehyung starts to think that the amount of guilt he’s harbouring in his system is starting to poison his blood. He didn’t mean to sound like an asshole, he didn’t mean to sound like a saviour either, he had just been trying to be a good person.

His mother likes to say he’s a bit too saintly in his intentions and humanity doesn’t always want to be saved.

Taehyung’s not even sure whether he wants to save Jimin. The kid is resilient against three years of bullying, holding his head high every day and never once showing how the hate affects him. And to be honest, that sounds like the makings of a person who can save themselves.

Jimin isn’t a victim, he isn’t weak, either. Taehyung just likes being nice, likes to right the wrongs of the world as best he can.

He believes in karma and that doing the right thing is the best way to spread positive vibes. He just forgets that sometimes the world doesn’t want those positive vibes, sometimes they don’t know what to do with them.

Jimin is one of those people, Taehyung thinks.

He tries really hard not to steal glances over at the boy that’s going out of his way to ignore him, but Taehyung’s eyes find themselves wondering over to Jimin’s classroom across the way more often than not. Maybe he should apologise? Maybe he should beg for forgiveness.

But what, exactly, has he got to be sorry for? He offered Jimin an ear to listen to his problems, there’s nothing wrong with that.

Maybe he just needs to take a deep breath and let the chips fall where they may. He never expected to be friends with Park Jimin, he has always been content to just help him from afar – but then again, if Jimin is pissed at him for outright offering help then he might be even more pissed off to know that Taehyung has been fighting his battles for him too.

God, why is everything so confusing? Why can’t things just be simple.

Because that would make it boring.

By the time Friday rolls around, Taehyung has never felt more ready for the weekend. He wants to sleep in Saturday morning and wake up to the smell of his mother’s pancakes. He wants to play video games with his siblings late into Sunday morning and then fall asleep in the living room with them in a mini dog pile on the floor.

He needs a good recharge, and nothing recharges him more than family.

Unlike his usual routine when school gets out, Taehyung doesn’t wait around until the school is half empty before heading home. He shoves his books into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, muttering hurried goodbyes to his classmates as he beelines out of class.

The walk home is always a pretty one no matter what the weather is like or what season it is. During the spring, the large cherry blossoms along the river scatter a pretty dusting of pink across the ground and the surface of the glistening water. Taehyung likes to kick the petals up and make pink tornados as he walks.

During the winter, the branches sparkle silver in the low sun and look exceptionally frail under the weight of a heavy coating of snow. His trail home is always coated in the best snow, untouched and just ready for Taehyung to stomp his feet through. No one usually takes his unusual walk through the back of the school and through the local farmers' fields home, opting to take far easier routes home. But Taehyung likes finding new pathways, and he never walks through the farmers field in the same direction.

Autumn calls for orange and red leaves, a perfect crunchiness that when they’re piled neatly along the river, Taehyung can jump into them feet first and feel a pleasant shiver down his spine from the satisfying crunch.

But summer? Summer was Taehyung’s favourite time to walk home. The cedar trees opposite the bare cherry blossoms give him the perfect shade from the overbearing sun. And with the beautiful clarity of the golden afternoons, Taehyung feels like he can see everything .

Including right through into the Teacher’s room in which currently Professor Lee and Professor Park are laughing around the coffee station.

Taehyung sucks in a deep mouthful of summer air, holds it in his lungs and lets it out dramatically; stretching his arms wide as though trying to hug the sky. For all the unbearable humidity that summer brings, it’s the little things that Taehyung appreciates about it. Like how clear it makes the air and how energetic he feels during the day. 

The winter pulls heavy at his bones and makes him lethargic; the sun keeps him going like he’s a little solar powered wind up toy.

There are frogs chirping merrily in the river, their song catching Taehyung’s attention; head snapping over to the water in the hopes he’ll get to see a little green friend. But instead, his eyes catch sight of something peculiar on the roof.

He doesn’t mean to look back at school, Taehyung makes it a habit that wherever he’s going he doesn’t look back, but the school is just so big and after three years of attending it he knows it incredibly well.

So well, in fact, that the sight of someone standing on the roof, dangerously close to the edge, doesn’t sit right with him.

There are two sections to the roof, one of which is easily accessible to students and has a high ring linked fence around the edge to stop any accidents happening. The other, on the side closest to the river and furthest away from the school field, the teacher’s office, and any other prying eyes around the school, is only accessible through a locked door that no one but the Principle has a key for.

And yet, there’s still someone standing up there that doesn’t look anything like the Principle. In fact, they don’t look like a teacher at all. Their black slacks and white polo-shirt with green stripes on the sleeves looks scarily like their school uniform and Taehyung’s heart leaps into his throat.

The person has their back to Taehyung, arms spread wide as if they too are trying to hug the sky. Only Taehyung worries that it’s not for the same optimistic reasons Taehyung had done moments earlier.

Taehyung’s eyes don’t move from the student, breath caught in his throat and heart hammering so loud it rings in his ears.

Then the student takes a step closer to the edge and Taehyung feels his feet moving before his brain can even catch up with him.

He runs as fast as he can, pushing his legs to move harder, eyes snapping between what’s in front of him and the student standing on the roof. If he’s lucky, and he hopes he’s very, very lucky, the fire escape will be open, and he can run up the steps along the side of the school. At least then he doesn’t have to try and run through the school with a panicked urgency and worry everyone still left inside.

First things first: save the kid, then Taehyung can worry about telling their teachers what’s happening. Things like this are delicate situations and he only has a few minutes to react.

It doesn’t take him long to make it back onto campus, he hadn’t made it very far on his journey home anyway, and Taehyung practically throws himself at the fire escape, sending a mantra of thank yous into the universe when he finds the fire escape is open.

His chest burns, his legs ache and his breath falls so rapidly and shallowly from his lungs Taehyung thinks he could pass out any minute. The humidity makes it feel like he’s running through jelly, sweat sticks to his forehead and trickles uncomfortably down his back.

But still, he keeps pushing.

Pushing and pushing until he stumbles onto the roof with a loud “STOP!” on his lips.

The student stood on the edge of the roof jumps at the sudden intrusion, stumbling a little and very narrowly saving himself from tumbling over the edge.

“Taehyung!” a voice that sounds very much like Jimin’s calls his name, and it takes a few moments through his panting and wobbly vision for Taehyung to realise that the kid who looked like he was about to jump is Jimin.

And suddenly, Taehyung is filled with even more urgency than he had been before.

“Jimin, don’t do this,” he pleads, voice thick with desperation. “I’m sorry I said something you didn’t like, and I came on a little too strong, you don’t have to depend on me, heck you don’t even have to like me if you don’t want to. Just please, don’t step off the edge! There’s so much in this world to live for, you’re only in high school and that’s notorious from hiding all the best things about life from you and you’ve only got a few more months until you can see the whole world in all its glory and—”

“Taehyung!” Jimin shouts, hands raised gently in front of him and showing Taehyung his palms. “Take a deep breath before you continue, your face is going a bit blue.”

Gasping like he’s just broken through the surface of the water after being under there too long, Taehyung flops in half, hands on his knees as he sucks in as much oxygen as possible. “D-don’t jump,” he mumbles before he feels hands soothing up and down his back.

“I won’t jump,” Jimin whispers, when did he get over to Taehyung? Why is he touching him after he ignored him all week?

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of Taehyung regulating his breath and the steady stream of the river. Distantly, as the ringing of his heartbeat dies in his ears, Taehyung can hear the frog chorus in the river and the singing cicadas in the farmers field.

Jimin’s hands still in their gentle soothing up and down Taehyung’s spine before removing themselves completely. Taehyung bites down hard on his lip to stop himself from whimpering at the loss of tactile comfort.

“Better?” Jimin asks. He’s stepped away from Taehyung’s space completely – keeping an unwelcome distance.

Taehyung nods, standing up right and blinking rapidly as the blood rushes to his head.

“Good,” Jimin nods, before folding his arms across his chest. “Now what in the flying fuck made you think I was going to jump off the school roof?”

Licking at his dry lips, Taehyung shuffles from foot to foot feeling very much like a small child being scolded by a parent. “I—I was—” he swallows thickly, pointing down to the little trail along the river that he takes home. “I saw you, standing on the edge and—”

“ And ?” Jimin repeats, a little heated.

Taehyung frowns. “ And ,” he echoes, mockingly. “I saw a student about to jump and did the first thing anyone would do in that situation, ran over here to stop it. I didn’t know it was you.”

Jimin’s angry stance deflates just a little. “Y-you didn’t?”

Shaking his head a little roughly, Taehyung folds his arms about his chest just as Jimin drops his to his sides. “No. I couldn’t see clearly from all the way down there.”  

“Shit,” Jimin huffs, hanging his head on his shoulders. “You’re too fucking nice.”

“Stop swearing at me, I’m not afraid to make a swear jar, Park Jimin, watch me.”

Once again, Jimin raises his hands palm out to Taehyung and shakes his head. “I’ll stop, I’m sorry.”

“Y-yeah, okay, good,” Taehyung nods, not really sure what he should do now.

Jimin turns his head to look towards the edge of the roof and lets a long sigh past his lips before turning back to Taehyung again. “Considering I’m not going to jump off the school roof, if there’s nothing else I can help you with maybe you should go—”

“No wait, I—” Taehyung interrupts, reaching out for Jimin before dropping his hand again. “I wanted to talk.”

“Can it wait, now really isn’t a very good time,” Jimin explains, turning to look behind him again. “And I’m not really myself right now.”

Taehyung looks past Jimin, squinting his eyes and seeing nothing but thin air. “Are you, with someone?”

Jimin’s head snaps back to Taehyung, eyes narrowed. “So, what if I am?”

It’s weird how suddenly very defensive Jimin is. He hasn’t known the boy personally for very long, heck he still doesn’t really know the secretive Jimin very well at all. But he’s never once snapped at his tormentors, never once shouted at someone during a broadcast that poked fun at him or doubted his abilities. 

Jimin is usually very docile and always has a calm and personable demeanour about himself, so this snippy and defensive Jimin just doesn't seem right. 

“Then I’ll leave,” Taehyung answers. 

“You’ll just leave?” Jimin asks, eyes still sharply narrowed. 

Taehyung nods, turning on his heels. “Come find me when you’re done,” he adds before he takes his leave.

____________

Taehyung wonders through the quiet school halls with his heart still thumping painfully in his chest. The gold rays of the setting sun shine their way through the windows and tint the school in sepia tones. It feels weird, eerie even, walking around an empty school, not even hearing the chanting and chattering of the club activities that usually run late out on the school field.

Today there’s no clubs after school because the lower years have their midterms next week and need extra time to study. But still, Taehyung feels like there should be more noise in the wake of the emptiness the school holds. It just doesn’t feel right, being so still. It’s almost as though he’s seeing everything through a strange dream.

He wonders over to his classroom, still thankfully unlocked, and slumps himself in his desk at the back, chin resting on his propped up arm. His school bag slumps off his shoulder and flops to the floor with a soft muted thud, and he lets a long sigh tumble past his lips.

So much for going home early and curling up with his family to recharge after a long week.

Pushing open the window next to his desk, he shuts his eyes as he feels the warm summer winds breathe their way into the room. Whoever was in charge of organising the classroom after school did a shoddy job, the flowers are running low on water, the chalkboard hasn’t been cleaned ready for Monday and all the curtains have been left hanging limply in front of the windows rather than tied up. 

With another deep sigh, Taehyung swings himself to his feet and starts cleaning up after his lazy classmates. He erases the chalkboard first before cleaning the eraser on the chalk cleaner by the cleaning cupboard. Then he sweeps the floor clear of the small little grime that builds up during a school day: chalk, dust, little bits of paper, hair, eraser shavings and even stray bits of rice that had been dropped from lunch.

It takes a couple tries to sweep everything into the dustpan because little bits always get stuck between the gap left from the edge of the dustpan and the floor. He finds however, when he goes to finally empty the dustpan, that the trash had at least been taken out.

He saves changing the water of the flowers until last, mainly because he has to walk to the other end of the hallway where the taps are, but also because he likes talking to the flowers. His grandmother swears on her life that talking to the pants helps them grow bigger and more beautiful. And even though these flowers have been cut from their roots and no longer have the capacity to grow, Taehyung still likes to think that shouldn’t stop them from having some kind of attention and love from humans.

By the time he comes back, with the jug filled to a decent level of fresh clean water, he’s busy explaining about how the weather forecast said they’re going to have an extra-long, extra hot summer this year. He tells the pretty little daisies not to worry though, because he would always make sure they’re sufficiently hydrated during the heatwave.

The conversation is cut short, however, when he steps into the classroom and finds Jimin standing a little awkwardly beside Taehyung’s desk.

They stare at each other a while, eyes wide and bodies still, not really knowing what to say, or who should even speak first. Taehyung’s never afraid to break awkward silences, but with the way Jimin seems to be a little on edge today, he really really doesn’t want to say something that might anger the boy anymore than he already seems to be.

“W-were you just talking to someone?” Jimin asks, looking beyond Taehyung and finding no one else following him.

Taehyung shakes his head and walks over to the little table by the teacher’s desk where the flowers live. “I was just telling the daisies that we’re expected to have a long and hot summer this year.”

“The daisies?” Jimin asks, not quite understanding, though Taehyung thinks there’s not much for him not to understand.

But he nods politely, placing the flowers right in the middle of a big ray of golden sunlight. “Yes, the daisies,” he reiterates. “I like to talk to the flowers; it helps them grow.”

Jimin seems to have many questions for Taehyung about that, but he keeps them to himself, simply nodding at Taehyung’s explanation instead. There’s another awkward silence, thick and heavy as it weighs down like a tonne of bricks on Taehyung’s shoulders. He turns from the flowers, leaning against the table they live on and folds his arms about his chest.

He looks over Park Jimin, the boy looking no way near as feisty as he had all but ten minutes ago, his body language less rigid and more apologetic. His shoulders are sagged, his arms are wrapped around his middle and his eyes are carefully watching as his pink tinged indoor shoes scuff against the beaten hardwoods.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, gently, softly, calmly.

Jimin freezes in his actions before gingerly raising his head to look Taehyung in the eye. “I feel bad,” he says through a sheepish smile. “I ignored you all week and I snapped at you a lot, and I’m sorry.”

Taehyung can’t help but get lost in the sincerity of Jimin’s gaze, wanting more than anything to reach out and remove Jimin’s teeth from his bottom lip. He sighs, letting his arms fall to his sides. “It’s alright,” he finally says. “You said you weren’t yourself; we all get days like that.”

Jimin seems to choke on air for a moment, eyes blown wide as they gaze unbelievingly at Taehyung. But Taehyung just shrugs, not really understanding why Jimin looks as though he’s just witnessed Taehyung punch a small dog.

“What?” he asks.

Jimin swallows thickly. “You, you think I’m stressed or something and that’s why I’m acting strangely?”  

Nodding slowly, Taehyung pushes off the desk. “Well yeah,” he says. “I mean, even I get a little cranky from time to time. Hard to believe I know, but it happens to the best of us.” He smiles, wide and reassuring and gentle. As he walks over to Jimin it feels as though a big weight has been lifted off his chest.

Communication is everything.

But before he can get to Jimin and attempt to offer him a big forgiving hug, Jimin raises his hands in a ‘stop’ motion and takes a step backwards away from Taehyung.

Taehyung has to stop himself from whining. He hates being denied tactile affection.

“No, wait, I don’t think you understand,” Jimin explains and his voice quivers nervously. “I’m not stressed, or pissed off or anything like that. This isn’t, this isn’t a me thing—”

“O-oh,” Taehyung’s heart sinks, disappointment clear in his voice despite how hard he tried to hide it, how hard he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t affected by that statement.

Jimin gasps, realising what he’s said and takes a step towards Taehyung, guilt riddled across his face. “It’s not a you thing either! I promise!” he practically shouts, then deflates like an untied balloon. “I suppose it is a me thing, but at the same time it’s not it’s—”

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung decides to address the elephant in the room. “It’s a ghost thing?” he offers and Jimin freezes, mouth snapping shut like a Venus fly trap. He nods slowly, wrapping his arms around himself again and looking down at his feet once more.

Almost like he’s ready and waiting for an onslaught of teasing and nastiness.

“Look,” Taehyung begins, sitting on top of a desk that’s not his own and pulling Jimin to sit down on the desk in front of him. “I know it’s not really a secret, what you can do and all that, but you always seemed to not want to talk about it. So, I didn’t want to bring it up.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at Taehyung, fingers nervously fiddling in his lap. “People usually think it’s weird,” he explains, in as nice a way as possible. Taehyung knows that most people don’t find it weird. They think it’s downright wrong that Jimin can talk to ghosts. “So, I don’t bring it up to make them feel more comfortable.”

Nodding understandingly, Taehyung leans back on his hands. “I don’t think it’s weird,” he says. “I don’t particularly understand it, and I admit to not really believing you—” Jimin flinches, arms back to wrapping themselves around his stomach. “But people tend to overlook the things they don’t understand. And if you’re okay with telling me, then I’d like to understand.” 

For obvious reasons, Jimin looks more than a little sceptical, eyes narrowed down to slits. “People have said that before,” he begins, voice wavering only slightly. “They didn’t mean it.”  

“Well, they’re dicks,” Taehyung scoffs.

“They didn’t treat me like a dick to begin with,” Jimin clarifies. “A bit like you.”

Letting out a long sigh, Taehyung jumps to his feet. “Then clearly, I need to be just as vulnerable with you as you will be with me, right?” Jimin doesn’t reply, eyes still narrowed. “So, I’ll tell you what my Mom calls me if you tell me about your ghost friends.”

“They’re not my—” Jimin huffs, shaking his head. “Okay, fine.”

Taehyung sits back down, this time on the same desk Jimin is sat at, and snuggles up as close as he can to the boy. He props his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his hands. “Go on then, I’m listening.”

Twisting his mouth uncomfortably, Jimin laces his fingers together and looks at the ceiling. “Well, I’m not lying, about seeing ghosts,” he begins. “I would never lie, especially about something as serious as that.”

Nodding, Taehyung motions for Jimin to continue, not wanting to interrupt with his own thoughts and opinions just yet. He’d rather not interrupt Jimin at all until he’s finished his entire explanation, like the good respectful person his mother raised him to be.

But Taehyung knows that curiosity always gets the better of him.

Jimin lets a long breath past his lips. “It’s a delicate thing, communicating with the dead. Most of the time, they don’t realise they’re dead, so they’re drawn to me as the only person who can talk to them, who can touch them and understand them.” There’s thick melancholy in the boy’s voice. “It’s not fair that they’re so confused, that there’s no one a bit more official than me to help them figure out what they need to do. But I’m glad that I am here, that they do have someone.” He pauses, his hands are shaking ever so slightly. “They flock to me like a moth to the flame and I help them, as best I can, I help them.”

Wow, Jimin is far more compassionate than Taehyung realised, it’s beautiful.

“Most of the time, they want to talk to a loved one that’s still alive, or they have some unfinished business that I can help finish for them. But until they feel content and ready to move on, they stick to me like glue,” Jimin sighs, his whole body sagging like he’s just finished doing a round of weightlifting at the gym and his muscles feel too weak.

Taehyung raises his hand like he’s in the middle of class, and Jimin bites down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from giggling. “Yes, Taehyung-ssi, you have a question?” he asks, teasingly.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, standing to his feet. “Does it make you tired? The longer the ghost sticks around, I mean. Like, do they drain your energy in order to keep being all ghost like?”

“Nice question, thank you Taehyung-ssi,” Jimin nods.

Taehyung slips back onto the desk with a puppy dog grin on his face. “Thank you Park-seongsaenim.”

“Ghosts don’t drain energy from the living, they draw energy from whatever emotion that’s still keeping them here,” Jimin explains. “Human emotions are strong, after all, they can help a mother find the strength to lift a car off of their child for example. And they can keep a ghost here for as long as needs be until they no longer feel that emotion anymore.”

“So, if a ghost has been here a really long time and they forget why it is they’re here, that emotion that was holding them here might be forgotten too. Does that mean the ghost just, disappears?” Taehyung asks, and there’s something heavy weighing down on his chest.

Shaking his head roughly, Jimin turns his whole body to face Taehyung, jostling the both of them on the small square desk they’re occupying. “Sometimes, yes, but that’s only if the ghost hasn’t found some other emotion to cling onto that keeps them here. Sometimes, ghosts are stuck on earth for so long, not sure how they can move on from where they are, that yes, they do forget the reason they’re stuck here. But usually they forget it because another, equally important reason, takes its place.”

“So, there are some really old ghosts wandering around not sure why they’re here but knowing they have to be here?” Taehyung asks, sadly.

Jimin nods. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says. “But that’s what I’m here for, I help them.”

“That’s sweet, Jimin.”

With a deep flush, Jimin averts his eyes from Taehyung and clears his throat. “I mean, it’s not easy. And the emotions these ghosts feel are so strong that most of the time I’m affected by them too. I can feel what they feel so clearly sometimes, almost as if they were my own emotions. I can be watching a comedy and suddenly burst into tears, or be really happy and bubbly as I get to know new friends and then suddenly be really angry over nothing …”

“Ahh,” Taehyung nods. “So, this ghost friend of yours from today, they were a little angry?”

Jimin swallows thickly, lip wobbling until he worries it between his teeth to stop it. He nods, slowly, unsure if he should explain what happened, debating with himself as to whether he should share this burden he’s holding with Taehyung.

But, Taehyung, on the other hand, is more than happy to have Jimin share his burden with him. His mother always says that a problem shared is a problem halved, after all. And although he can’t begin to even pretend to understand what Jimin must go through each time he helps another lost soul, he can at least be supportive; a shoulder to lean on, a shoulder to cry on.

But no amount of words could articulately explain the amount of support Taehyung has to offer Jimin. So instead, he slips his fingers between Jimin’s, prying them gently apart so he can hold the warm, little hand within his bigger one and squeeze it reassuringly tight.

It takes a moment for Jimin to squeeze back, for his body to kickstart itself and accept Taehyung’s support, but he does. And with a deep breath in, and a long exhale out, Jimin looks down at their hands and sighs.

“Usually,” he begins, voice quivering. “Ghosts that died unnaturally, tend to be a little angry.”

Taehyung cocks his head to one side. “Unnaturally?”

Jimin swallows. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Like murder, or suicide—”

Something thick lodges itself in Taehyung’s throat and his lungs wrap so tightly in his chest that it traps all his breath inside. “Suicide?” he manages to squeak.

“The ghost, from earlier, they—they jumped,” Jimin clarifies and Taehyung feels all the blood rush from his face. Jimin’s grip tightens, the equal level of reassurance that Taehyung had offered him moments ago now passed back. “They came to find me, heard about me through the ghost grape vine I suppose, or maybe they remembered me from when they were alive. But I wasn’t around when they got here. So, they fixed themselves to the school roof, waiting for me to find them and eventually I did—”

“When we ate lunch?” Taehyung asks, his grip around Jimin so tight he’s certain his nails are leaving painful crescent shaped marks in Jimin’s golden skin.

Jimin nods. “I ignored him though, and he didn’t like that, and he got angry and it made me angry, and I’m sorry about that.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that, it’s okay.”

“I was actually really happy that you said you wanted to understand me.” Jimin sounds desperate, his voice lilting with a despairing plea for Taehyung to understand.

But Taehyung understands, he gets it. Even if Jimin wasn’t half possessed by a ghost’s lingering emotions, Taehyung would still get it. They’re only human, not everything is going to be rainbows and smiles all the time, and he knows that Jimin would never willingly be angry or mean to him. He only hopes that Jimin understands that Taehyung wouldn’t knowingly be angry or mean to him either.

“I promise, Jimin, it’s okay.” Taehyung assures resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder. “Are they alright? Your ghost friend?”

Jimin sighs. “I hope so, they just wanted someone to talk to, someone to listen to them.”

“Don’t we all,” Taehyung chuckles. “Did the talk make them feel better?”

“Very much so.”

“Where did they go?”

“I dunno, it’s different for everyone. But hopefully, it’s a better situation then what they had on earth.”

“I hope so too,” Taehyung agrees, snuggling against Jimin’s arm.

It’s quiet as the last rays of the golden sun dip behind the horizon and the purple glow of twilight casts the school in shadows. Taehyung likes twilight, likes the magical feeling it holds; the endless possibility that glitters through the air.

He thinks it’s a great time to start something new.

“My mum calls me Baby Bear,” he explains quietly, enjoying the calming silence between them.

Jimin snorts. “No amount of words could adequately describe how cute that is.”

Taehyung just smiles gleefully, closing his eyes to the twilight. “Will you eat lunch with me on Monday?”

“You would still want to?” Jimin asks, warily. “Even after everything I’ve just told you?”

Humming softly, Taehyung traces patterns into the back of Jimin’s hand with his thumb. “Nothing’s really changed, in my opinion. We just got to know each other better, that’s all.”

“You really are too nice,” Jimin mumbles, but rests his head atop Taehyung’s.

___________

They do eat lunch together come Monday. Tuesday too, and Wednesday, and every day for the rest of the week. No one asks Taehyung where he wanders off to either, his classmates too caught up in their own break time activities and their lunches to care. But if Taehyung were asked he would gladly tell them that he’s having the most amazing time getting to know the boy that they’re all unnecessarily shunning.

He really wants to talk to everyone about how cool Park Jimin is and how they’re all missing out because they’re too hung up on petty nonsense.

“Oh my god! You really got to go to the catacombs in Paris?” Taehyung gapes, eyes glittering with excitement. “I’m so jealous!”

Jimin scrunches his nose in disgust, picking at his lunch which consists of a small serving of plain white rice and red tofu. “I worry about you, Taehyung-ah, the catacombs are not a hot tourist destination.”

With a dismissive swipe of his hand, Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care all that much about the catacombs, though I suppose it would be cool to see them…” He shakes his head, always so easily side-tracked. “What I’m excited about is that you get to travel the world. The most exotic place I’ve been too is Busan for Summer vacation one year when I was 6.”

There’s a shove to Taehyung’s arm and a look of mock horror across Jimin’s face. “My family is from Busan, don’t diss.”

“C’mon, you’d much rather walk through the cobbled streets of Paris then bake like a potato on a Busan beach in the height of the August humidity, admit it.” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows and Jimin giggles behind his little hands.

Has Taehyung mentioned before how little Jimin’s hands are? Because they’re tiny. Adorably tiny. And Taehyung gets a kick out of wrapping his obscenely bigger hand around Jimin’s just to see the size difference.

Jimin is not so easily amused by this, however. He calls it teasing, when in actuality Taehyung just finds it stupidly delightful .

“Okay, though I do admit that Paris in springtime is really nice and the food looked so incredible,” Jimin begins, placing his half eaten lunch on the floor. “For me, nothing beats baking like a potato on a Busan beach in the height of humidity.”

“That’s something a seasoned traveller would say,” Taehyung scoffs in reply. “No place like home and all that.”

There’s a sadness that lingers around the edges of Jimin’s almond eyes. It clings to the corners of his mouth and hangs heavy against his petite frame. A melancholy ghost that never seems to leave him, no matter how big his smile gets that sadness is still there.

Taehyung notices it all the time, it breaks his heart a little more each day.

It’s worse when the sadness deepens, when Jimin’s body collapses under the weight of it just a little more; giving into the demons he doesn’t want to share.

He wraps his arms around his stomach, almost as though he’s holding himself together. His smile is so sad, so forced that it makes Taehyung feel sick.

“Busan is a home I can never get back,” he whispers, voice practically lost in the summer winds that are a little more vicious today compared to normal.

Taehyung feels the sadness Jimin feels, feels it so emphatically deep that it makes his bones ache. But he’s not sure what he can say, what he can do to comfort Jimin in the way that he needs. He’s still so private about most parts of his life, still so secretive about how he really feels.

Jimin is the type to put his own pain aside and prioritize others.

As the silence between them builds, thick and permeating, Taehyung shuffles closer to Jimin, so close that their knees brush and it snaps Jimin back to reality and pulls a gasp from him as though he’d been trapped too long underwater without air.

“What are you doing?” he asks, spluttering on his words.

But Taehyung doesn’t reply.

Instead he wraps his arms around Jimin’s shoulders and pulls him so tight against his own chest that he could very well snap the boy in half. Jimin gasps again as he lets himself fall against Taehyung’s chest; cheek smashed into the taller boy’s shirt.

Neither of them say anything, they just sit for a few long minutes with Taehyung wrapped around Jimin like a koala.

Jimin doesn’t hug him back, but that’s okay, Taehyung doesn’t mind.

____________

On days where Jimin doesn’t come to school, he leaves a note in Taehyung’s desk wishing him a good day. He draws cute little faces and stars all around the little piece of scrap notepaper and it’s so stupidly corny, but it makes Taehyung smile every single time.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve started hanging out. Taehyung likes to think that they’ve become fast friends, or are at least on track to being friends. Jimin is still a little guarded, for obvious reasons, and getting him to open up to Taehyung feels very much like peeling away the layers of an onion.

Today, Jimin is doing an on sight shooting at a supposedly haunted building site in Incheon. They’re trying to erect a new high rise apartment building, but weird things like tools being misplaced and machinery not starting, keep happening. The little pranks have apparently been escalating to dangerous levels, to the point one man fell from a particularly high scaffolding and swears up and down he was pushed.

But there was no one else up there with him.

Honestly, it makes for an interesting thriller or horror movie, Taehyung thinks, but he’s still yet to believe it. Jimin seems a little sceptical too, he says that most ghosts can’t move objects or touch normal people all that easily, and the possibility of a ghost getting so angry that they cause harm to the living is pretty much zero percent.

“Ghosts don’t want to harm anyone; they just don’t understand what’s happening to them. They can get frustrated, paranoid and angry, but they don’t lash out at the living. There are other things that do that.”

Taehyung had proceeded to ask what kind of other things do that, wanting to know more than anything if there are other supernatural beings out in the world. But Jimin very quickly changed the subject, hands shaking, and lip worried painfully into his bottom lip. Clearly, whatever other things that are out there are not the type of stuff Jimin likes to deal with.

And honestly? Taehyung thinks that he’s kind of okay not knowing about them if that’s the case. 

He hates the days Jimin isn’t here. Not to be dramatic, but he feels like his entire existence has been drawn to Jimin like a sunflower reaching for the sun, and on days the boy isn’t here there’s nothing but cold rain. 

Taehyung dreads to think how he’ll cope when the inevitable winter vacation creeps upon them and they’re separated for an even longer period of time. The days are getting shorter as the year trots smoothly into October. Autumn hangs heavily in the air, dying the green leaves of summer oranges and reds, the temperature dropping ever so slightly so that the mornings have a little crisp to them than usual.

As Taehyung sits in the empty classroom after school, he feels a cold on the backs of the winds that raises Goosebumps along his skin. The light of the setting sun is different now than it had been during summer. The classroom is no longer bathed in a warm gold but instead is awashed in pinks and purpling blues. Twilight lingers just a little longer in the sky as the sun and the moon greet each other like old friends, stopping to catch up before the sun retires for the night.

He remembers his grandmother telling him a story about how the sun and the moon are lovers, meeting at twilight one fateful day where summer and autumn had begun to overlap. Opposites attract, she had told him, and till this very day Taehyung thoroughly believes that.

That’s probably why he’s so hung up on Park Jimin for the two of them are anything but similar. But that’s what makes their budding friendship so incredibly enticing. Like walking blind through an enchanted forest, knowing that wonderful incredible things await you, but not knowing when they’ll come.

The easiest roads in life are boring.

With a groan, Taehyung stretches across his desk like a cat. Through the fluttering of the curtains, sunbeams trickle into the classroom and the tips of Taehyung’s fingers dance through them. It’s not as warm a feeling as the golden rays of summer; the looming autumn sun feels a little cold in fact.

A shiver runs down Taehyung’s spine and has his toes curling in his shoes.

Autumn is charged with a type of magic that Taehyung is very incredibly ready for.

But what Taehyung is not ready for, is the looming College entrance exams. They’re right on the horizon, mockingly taunting Taehyung for being so ridiculously unprepared for them. He doesn’t even know which college he wants to go to yet, after all.

Recently, he’s been entertaining the idea of not going at all and instead taking over his grandparents farm. He thinks he’d make a good farmer; their family had always been unafraid of the dirt and he’d grown up with a huge respect for produce and how it came to be on his plate. There are a few large, overrun fields at the back of his grandparents farm that he would love to turn into strawberry fields, too.

Plus the best thing about going into the family business is that if he does really badly mess up his college entrance exams then there’s nothing for him to worry about

However, Taehyung has also been entertaining the idea of how it would be nice if he could expand the family business. If he could get their turnips and cabbages selling in big retail markets rather than just at the local supermarket then he could save a little money for his grandparents and parents to retire comfortably with. His grandmother grows the absolute best cabbage and it makes for the world’s best kimchi too, so there’s no way any retailer would turn down their homegrown food.

It’s just that, Taehyung knows little to nothing about agricultural business, and he knows he’d need to go to college for that. Which leads him back to the dilemma of potentially royally messing up his college entrance exams.  

Wow, now that Taehyung really thinks about, their future isn’t all that far away from them.

He wonders, not for the first time, what Jimin will do. He’s got the brains to be a surgeon or a lawyer if he really wanted to be, he’s even got the looks to be South Korea’s next top model. Though Taehyung can’t quite picture Jimin’s face plastered all over high glossy rags or walking down the runway in the latest Gucci . Jimin’s not flamboyant like that, he’s humble, sweet natured and caring.

Now that Taehyung comes to think about it, he’d make an excellent kindergarten teacher. The children would absolutely adore him, Taehyung can attest to that with 100% certainty because he, himself, is nothing but a big kid. Any child would be lucky to have Jimin as a teacher too, because Taehyung has never met someone so selflessly caring before in all his life.

Selfless to the point of detriment.

Logically speaking, Jimin will continue on with his career in television. Taehyung doesn’t know much about Jimin’s home life, nor much about his family, but he does know that Jimin’s life outside of school is very, incredibly, regimented.

His mother controls a vast amount of what he does day to day, even down to the food he consumes. Bland, colourless food that looks as though even monks would turn their noses up at it.

There’s no way Jimin would selfishly follow a career path he wants to follow if it’s something his mother is against. Jimin has never openly expressed a like or a hatred for his stardom, he seems to view it more as just a part of his life, just the way things are. He gets to help people at the end of the day, and Jimin has made it very incredibly clear to Taehyung that helping people with his gift is something he’ll never stop doing.

But is he happy doing it?

Once again Taehyung can see that small child of ten on TV, with a bright innocent smile announcing to the world with steeped sincerity, that all he wants to do is help.

That smile and that innocence, it’s been a while since Taehyung has seen it again. But he supposes the harsh realities of show business is bound to stamp that out of you a little.

Is Jimin happy?

Taehyung wants nothing more in this life than for Jimin to be happy.

___________

“Aren’t you deciding on which college to attend a little late?” Jimin asks, voice ringing so suddenly around the rooftop that has Taehyung practically jumping out of his skin. The pamphlet he had been reading flies a foot in the air before crumpling against the floor, bending the pages crooked in the process.

Taehyung’s heart thumps angrily in his chest, breath falling harshly from his lips, eyes blown so wide they rival the size of the moon.

And all the while, Jimin stands with a taunting smirk on his lips and a glistening of mischief in his eyes. “Good afternoon, Taehyung.”

“That was cruel,” Taehyung replies, dramatically placing a hand against his heart. “Why do you have to wrong me like this?”

With a roll of his eyes that is filled with nothing but affection, Jimin titters. “I did call out to you when I got here, but you were a little preoccupied,” he explains, eyes swooping down upon the poor crumpled pamphlet on the floor.

Taehyung’s eyes follow Jimin’s, tongue reaching out to wet against his dry lips, feeling his heart slowing it’s angry beating in his ribcage, no longer trying to escape through his throat in sheer fear. Tenderly, he reaches for the pamphlet, of which is more like a book than a pamphlet now Taehyung comes to think about it. It’s more than 50 pages long, glossy pages bound in a heavy duty cardboard cover.

It’s wholly as intimidating as the prospect of attending College is.

“I guess my mind is elsewhere today,” Taehyung replies, flattening out the crumbled pages with a pinch between his brow.

With the grace of a swan, Jimin settles himself on the floor to Taehyung’s left, their shoulders brushing and sparking comforting warmth in the small space between them. It feels like the sun has returned to Taehyung’s day.

Humming casually, Jimin reaches out a finger to run along the page Taehyung has open, eyes darting across the printed text. “These are all Universities in Seoul,” he comments gently, purposefully void of emotion.

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies. “Oddly the best agricultural programmes are all in Seoul.” He snorts, folding the pamphlet closed and placing it carefully on the floor in front of them. “Ironic considering there’s nothing agricultural about Seoul.” 

Jimin says nothing, but he curls his legs up against his chest and wraps his arms around them, holding them tight. Taehyung is good at watching people, even better at it when it comes to people he is rather fond of. He can tell that his mother has had a bad day just by the type of sigh she lets out as she washes the dishes after dinner. He can tell that his father has skipped another night of sleep in favour of working just by the way his smile is a little too big.

So he has come to notice that they way Jimin hugs his knees to his chest reminds Taehyung of someone trying to keep themselves from falling apart. There’s only so much pressure someone can withstand before they crumble. Humans can’t all be diamonds, after all.

“I don’t picture you as a farmer,” Jimin comments idly. “I can see you making a good kindergarten teacher, though.”

Taehyung can’t help but let a little ironic chuckle blossom freely from his chest. It jostles his shoulders, arms knocking against Jimin’s. “Actually,” he begins through his soft chuckles. “I thought you would make a good kindergarten teacher.”

The look that bleeds across Jimin’s face is one of utter horror. “Oh god. Please . No,” he gasps, like he’s just been charged with a death sentence, and the situation is just so comical to Taehyung that it has him doubling over in hearty fits of giggles.

“Stop that,” Jimin scolds, no bite in his words as he batters his tiny hands against Taehyung’s back. “This isn’t a laughing matter; I would make an awful teacher.”

Jimin’s hands linger on Taehyung’s back and they burn warmth into his stiff muscles. Taehyung’s laughter tapers off on a hum, not wanting to move out of his hunched position and lose the touch of Jimin on him.

“Why do you think that?” Taehyung asks, peering at the worrying look across Jimin’s face out of the corner of his eye. He knows that whatever self-deprecating reason Jimin will give him Taehyung won’t agree with it. The basics for being a good teacher is patience, kindness and perseverance, all aspects Jimin already has, he just needs some fine tuning to be the best teacher the world has to offer.

But every high schooler is in need of some fine tuning to be the best in any field of work they so choose to take, that’s why they’re in high school after all. Their dreams are dreams for a reason. So long as they’re willing to fight for them with the tools given to them now, those dreams could very easily become a reality.

Not that Taehyung knows much about Jimin’s dreams now he comes to think about it.

Jimin looks away from Taehyung, a deep sorrow etched around his eyes that Taehyung thinks he will never understand no matter how badly he wants too. “Children scare me,” Jimin finally says, removing his hands from Taehyung’s back to pick nervously at a loose thread along the seams of his pants.

Before he can pull the thread out of the fabric, however, Taehyung tangles his fingers with Jimin’s and pulls their entwined hands to rest atop his own thigh. He straightens his back, eyes boring into the side of Jimin’s face as an ominous feeling settles cold against their shoulders.

“Why do they scare you?” he asks, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the background buzzing of the lively school.

For a moment, the chattering of students and the echoing of footsteps through hallways is the only thing that rings through the silence built between them. It stabs at Taehyung’s ear drums, like white noise turned up too loud in his headphones. Like the sting of a mic too close to a speaker.

Taehyung really dislikes the silence.

Especially a silence like this that’s charged with no content, no ease, no comfort.

There’s worry and anxiety licking at Taehyung’s skin and it tightens his grip around Jimin’s hand.

Jimin still won't look at him. Taehyung hates that the most.

“Children are so fragile.”

It’s an odd statement, but it holds so much gravity to it, explains everything Taehyung needs to know without explicitly stating the horrifying obvious.

It never really crossed Taehyung’s mind that in Jimin’s adventures with the dead, he would have met a child or two along the way.

How that must have broken him. Fractured Jimin in a way that could never be wholly fixed again. Just entertaining the thought of children dying young has spiderweb cracks breaking across Taehyung’s heart. What cruel fate ever thought it was fair to snuff out a light that hadn’t had a chance to burn it’s brightest yet?

Taehyung’s youngest brother is ten and is still so new to the world, still has so much laid out in front of him to experience that the thought of him dying now never once crossed Taehyung’s mind.

Children are fragile .

How did the parents look when Jimin told them words from their lost children? How did the parents survive getting one last chance to tell their babies that they love them before they are completely lost to them forever.

Taehyung doesn’t want to think about it.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

His chest hurts, it stings and burns like something is trying to claw its way out and smother him.

But then there are cooling hands on his cheeks, holding his face as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world. “It’s okay,” Jimin whispers to him, his voice even, gentle and commanding. It snatches Taehyung’s thoughts away from his own mind, anchors him back into the now. “You don’t have to think about it,” Jimin reassures, a promise laced through his words that Taehyung clings to desperately.

Had Taehyung been saying that out loud?

Grounding himself in the heavy, steady gaze Jimin pins him under, Taehyung takes a moment to just feel Jimin’s warm touch against his cool skin. Takes a moment to just breathe . Jimin smells like lavender, soft and delicate. It makes Taehyung feel a sleepy kind of drunk, bones weak and body heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers finally, eyes jammed shut as though that’s enough to remove the horrible thoughts screaming through his mind.

Dying young. Taehyung just cannot handle that.

“It’s okay,” Jimin replies again, and he sits in front of Taehyung so that their knees brush. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Are Jimin’s hands shaking against Taehyung’s cheeks or is that Taehyung shaking?

He wants to shake his head, reassure Jimin that it’s okay, it’s not his fault. But there’s something caught on his tongue, sticking it to the roof of his mouth. For the first time this Autumn, Taehyung feels the wind of it shiver cold against his skin.

Eventually, Taehyung feels calm enough to open his eyes again and he’s met with Jimin’s soft gaze, eyes scrunched into crescents and smiles a little melancholy smile across his lips. “Hey,” he greets, thumbs tenderly brushing against the apples of Taehyung’s cheeks.

If possibly, Taehyung melts heavier under Jimin’s touch, a content little sigh falling unbidden from his lips. “Hi,” he replies, voice small.

They sit staring at each other for just a few moments more, Jimin not once ceasing in his little circular brushes of his thumb under Taehyung’s eyes. His face never once faulters in its soft look, a safety line to bring Taehyung back.

“Sorry,” Taehyung finally apologises.

Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t be,” he reassures, dropping his hands slowly from Taehyung’s skin and leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Taehyung wants to feel Jimin against him again, wants that warmth against his skin to never leave.

There’s a particularly loud scream, from what Taehyung gathers is some first years messing around in the stairwell, and it has the two of them snapping their heads towards the noise. “Must be nice to live so carefree,” Taehyung jokes, leaning back on his hands before turning back to Jimin. “They still have two years to decide who they want to be.”

There’s an agreeing hum in the back of Jimin’s throat, eyebrows furrowed. “Why do we have to decide so young?”

“So that the system can exploit as much time out of us as humanly possible,” Taehyung offers with a weak little one shouldered shrug.

The comment has Jimin snorting, eyes rolling affectionately once more. “I never pegged you for such a pessimistic child.”

“I’m not,” Taehyung agrees, turning his face towards the Autumn sun and finding it no way near as warm on his skin as he would like. “But I can still rage against the regime.”

“This isn’t an Orwell novel,” scoffs Jimin.

Opening one eye to level at Jimin, Taehyung cocks his head to one side. “Right right,” he agrees. “And who is Orwell?”

Jimin looks positively outraged, eyebrows shooting so high on his forehead they disappear behind his low hanging bangs. “Who’s Orwell?” he repeats, as if he hadn’t quite heard Taehyung correctly. But the nod Taehyung sends his way has Jimin’s mouth falling open in comic shock. “He wrote 1984? Animal farm?” he probes, but Taehyung just offers another weak one shouldered shrug. With another eye roll, Jimin folds his arms about his chest. “How can you not know George Orwell? We literally studied him last semester—” his words die on his tongue.

Taehyung pushes himself up right, hands resting in his lap. “We did?” he asks. Jimin nods carefully, eyes a little soft. “I don’t remember.”

“Well,” begins Jimin, looking anywhere but at Taehyung’s face. “You do have a habit of dozing off in class.”

And honestly, Taehyung can’t argue there. “How am I ever going to get into College?” he snickers, but there’s not much humour in his voice. He throws his arms to the sky, a little frustrated grunt pushed past his lips, and then falls backwards until his back hits the dirty, dusty school roof. “Maybe I should just cut my losses and not get my hopes up.”

There’s a quiet moment that passes across the roof. Taehyung can’t find it in himself to break it.

“Taehyung?” Jimin asks, voice incredibly careful. Almost like he’s talking to a child on the verge of a temper tantrum. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“Good question,” Taehyung replies, fingers wiggling in the cold autumn breeze above his head. “I dunno.”

There’s a disbelieving titter from Jimin before the boy is shuffling to sit himself right next to Taehyung, dark almond eyes burning holes into Taehyung’s head. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“But it’s true,” Taehyung replies. “Last week I fancied myself a painter, the week before that an actor, the week before that a vet.” He sighs, bone deep and tired. “My mood changes with the weather.”

“You were looking at agricultural courses, though,” Jimin queries. “There must be a reason behind that? No?”

The sky is an odd blue grey today. Too many clouds for the sun to adequately warm the earth, but the colour is bright in Taehyung’s eyes. Every time he blinks, he sees that odd grey blue behind his eyelids.

“I miss the summer,” says Taehyung.

“Don’t avoid the question,” says Jimin.

Shooting a sharp glare Jimin’s way, Taehyung lets a long dramatic sigh hiss it’s way past his clenched teeth. “My grandparents own a little vegetable farm,” he elaborates. “I never really thought of myself as taking over the family business, but recently, I dunno, I kinda like the idea.”

Jimin says nothing, his face a smooth mask as he listens intently to Taehyung’s words. It feels almost as though he’s talking to a shrink, not that Taehyung has ever had therapy. But if it’s as comforting and supportive, then he doesn’t think he would be all that opposed to going.

“I could expand the business if I get the right degree under my belt,” continues Taehyung, eyes turning back to the grey blue expanse of sky. “Maybe bring in a better income, enough so that my parents and grandparents can retire comfortably.”

“That’s a great dream, Taehyung,” Jimin hums. “Every child wants to have enough money to give their parents a comfortable life.” But his words are heavy with some unspoken sadness that has a shiver running across Taehyung’s skin. Something feels very off.

“Is that why you do it?” Taehyung inquires before he can stop himself. He turns his gaze back to Jimin, catching the pinch that forms between the boy’s eyebrows.

“Do what?” Jimin asks, voice a little cold.

Pulling his arms down from above his head, Taehyung rests his hands atop his chest and feels the way it expands and contracts with his breaths. “All the TV shows,” he explains.

A cold hardness steals Jimin’s features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, turning his face away from Taehyung and pulling his legs to hug against his chest again.

God, Taehyung really does have such a great way of putting his foot in his mouth.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Taehyung reassures, pulling himself up right once more, not sure if he should reach out and hold Jimin’s hands no matter how much his body screams at him to do so. “But I see right through your camera smile, Park Jimin.”

“You don’t see anything,” Jimin mumbles, mouth hidden behind his knees.

“Oh but I do,” Taehyung counters, leaning down to try and catch Jimin’s gaze. “You’re not happy.”

Jimin hisses like a frightened cat. “I am,” he implores, but his voice is weak.

“Okay, so maybe you are and maybe I am seeing something that’s not there,” Taehyung placates. “But can you honestly, wholeheartedly, tell me that the career you’ve had since you were ten years old is what you want to keep doing for the rest of your life?”

There’s nothing but silence to Taehyung’s question, of which speaks volumes more than words ever could. Taehyung doesn’t really make it a habit of watching Jimin’s shows, not for a long time now and even more so now that they’ve become close.

His heart just cannot handle the way in which the pretty little light he sees every day in Jimin’s eyes, slowly dies with each new episode that airs at prime time hours. He has no doubt that all Jimin wants to do is help people, and perhaps TV shows are the only way in which he can do that, but there’s a limit to how much one can give of themselves before there’s nothing else.

“Have you ever thought about doing something else?” Taehyung asks again, not surprised to be met with more silence, Jimin’s face completely hidden in his knees. “Do you have any hobbies you want to pursue?”

The bell chimes, as always, far too early for Taehyung’s liking and the buzzing of the school increases in volume as kids return to their classes for afternoon lessons.

Another sigh escapes his chest, he’s been sighing a lot recently and Taehyung can’t say he’s enjoying it.

“We should get to class,” Jimin mutters, pulling himself to his feet, more than a little grateful for the lifeline that has saved him from this discussion.

With an agreeing nod, Taehyung slowly stands to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles as he goes. “Though, what’s the point in studying if you’re not going to do anything with it?” he muses, not realising the harshness to his words until they’re greeted by a rather painful looking flinch from Jimin.

Wow, Taehyung can be a real asshole sometimes. Why in the hell does he not think before he speaks? His mother scolds him enough for it, it should really just stick with him by now.

“Wait, Jimin, I—” he begins, face awash with shame.

But Jimin just shakes his head, eyes down cast to the floor. “It’s okay,” he whispers, voice the smallest Taehyung has ever heard it. “I get what you meant.”

Taehyung doesn’t have a chance to apologise before he’s watching Jimin running away from him.

____________

There’s a mock history test three days later and Taehyung thinks he failed.

No no, he’s certain he failed.

He managed to write his name and his class and then proceeded to stare out the window for the rest of the hour and twenty-five minutes he had to complete the exam and not once did he feel guilty for it.

There’s nothing else on his mind but Jimin right now.

God he feels like a lovesick protagonist in a brat pack film. He always promised himself he would never be like that, all swoony and forlorn over love to the point it ruins his everyday life. He vaguely remembers his teachers telling him that the next few weeks will be heavy with mock examinations that they shouldn’t waste. And yet here he is, head full of Park Jimin.

Currently he’s wondering if singing ‘I love you baby’ through the schools speaker system during lunch and getting the brass band club to accompany him would slap him with a copyright lawsuit. But he has to admit all the best apology ideas come from movies.

If he gave his studies at least half the attention he gives to movies, then Taehyung would be a genius by now.

He doesn’t think Jimin would appreciate all the attention on him if Taehyung were to sing at him in front of the whole school. He doesn’t think Jimin would appreciate it if Taehyung were to sing about how much he loves him in front of the whole school either.

It would clearly do more bad than good.

But there’s a more pressing matter that’s niggling in the back of Taehyung’s mind than how he should apologise to Jimin. And that’s whether he should even apologise in the first place.

Sure he was a little too harsh in his delivery, but Taehyung still stands by everything he said. Jimin deserves to live his life the way he wants to just like everybody else, seeing ghosts be damned. Why should he apologise for caring? Surely it’s bad to just spit out an apology just so that they can go back to how things used to be? Surely that must do more harm than good?

It’s strange how passionate Taehyung feels about the prospect of Jimin wasting his life when he, himself, is doing just that.

Perhaps Taehyung’s just a little too comfortable over the fact that if he fails his college entrance exams then it’s not all that big of a deal. He still has something to fall back on. Perks of having a family business he supposes.

But the fact he’s losing his drive to do well grates on his soul a little bit. The sad, disappointed look his teachers share with him every time they pass his desk hadn’t been lost on Taehyung either.

Something tells him that Jimin isn’t going to be reaching out to Taehyung any time soon and that thought is more than just a little upsetting. He misses Jimin, even when they’re sat mere inches apart Taehyung finds his heart missing Jimin and it’s incredibly irritating.

The sounds of the school settling after a long day has become somewhat of a soothing track to the OST of Taehyung’s life. Faintly he can hear the remaining drabble of students leaving school for the day in the distance. Lingering with their friends at the crossroads in which their journey’s home separate them.

There’s clattering and thumping of equipment being stashed away in the club houses on the other side of the school field. Taehyung can see the PE teachers for each year looking more than a little pissed that they’ve been saddled with cleaning up after the students.

It’s odd, the tight feeling that grips Taehyung’s chest. He’s never felt it before, too carefree to feel it, probably. But there’s constricting, ominous, worry wrapping around his chest that he just cannot find himself ignoring anymore.

He’s a stubborn stone stuck at the side of the stream.

His life is stopping before it’s even really begun…

“Taehyung?”

His head snaps so quickly towards Jimin’s voice that Taehyung’s neck practically snaps. He feels like a little sunflower reaching towards the sun again, a small smile blooming across his face as his eyes fall upon the boy his mind has been filled with for the past few days.

Jimin is looking a little less put together than usual. His polo is untucked from his pants, his hair is a little more tousled, matted at the ends in some parts like he’s been nervously twisting the strands through his fingers. There are dark circles under his eyes, teeth worried so deeply into his bottom lip that the usual peachy shimmer to it is now a bloody red.

“Jimin?” Taehyung whispers, guilt pulling in his gut like a heavy stone. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

For a moment, Jimin looks a little surprised. “I’m fine,” he’s quick to say, almost like a knee jerk reaction.

Hooking his foot under the chair in front of Taehyung’s own desk, he’s quick to pull it out in a silent offering to Jimin. “You look a bit like you’ve seen a ghost,” Taehyung explains and the unimpressed look Jimin shares with him has a snicker hissing through Taehyung’s teeth. “No pun intended,” he adds.

With a deep sigh, Jimin gracefully drops himself into the seat in front of Taehyung. His fingers lace together and squeeze so tightly in his lap that his nails dig painfully into his skin. “Are you busy?” he asks politely.

Sparing a look down at his empty desk, Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m never busy for you, Chim.”

With a cocked eyebrow, Jimin snorts. “Chim?”

“Like it?” Taehyung asks through a brilliant smile. “I thought it about time we gave each other cute nicknames.”

“I see,” Jimin replies, but he seems a little confused. “So you still, want to talk to me and stuff?”

The fact that Jimin has entertained the idea of Taehyung not wanting to talk to him, not wanting to be around him, is utterly, wholly absurd to Taehyung. Does this boy not realise the things he does to Taehyung? Does he not know how alive he feels just to be near Jimin?

It’s like Taehyung has had the chance to taste the sweetest elixir life has to offer, getting to talk to Jimin. He never thought the two of them would ever get the chance to share more than a good morning greeting let alone spend time together. And the thought of losing Jimin, of losing the budding relationship they have built, terrifies Taehyung.

Clearly, that fear must show across his face, because Jimin is looking very much like he’s just pressed a nuclear launch button by mistake. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks.

“What for?” Taehyung asks, voice cracking on his vowels.

Playing with his fingers, Jimin drops his gaze to his lap. “You were just being nice; I didn’t mean to avoid you like I did.”

Is Jimin apologising for the other day?

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Taehyung counters. “There’s no need to apologise, especially when I was the one acting like such a dick.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “I thought you didn’t like swearing,” he teases lightly.

Taehyung smirks. “How much should I put in the swear jar?”

“It’s only your first offence, Mr Kim,” Jimin explains. “I’ll let you off with a warning.”

“You’re too kind, officer Park,” Taehyung winks and the lightness in his chest is warm. He really likes that.

Jimin is smiling, eyes melting of their worry and shoulders dropping as his muscles relax. Clearly the whole situation from the other day has been eating Jimin up inside and Taehyung wishes he had just been a bigger person and reached out to him sooner.

He hates miscommunication tropes.

“I still owe you an apology,” Jimin starts again, eyes holding Taehyung’s gaze with a steely resolution. “You’ve honestly been nothing but caring and nice to me and I’ve just shut you down every single time, and that’s not okay.”

Taehyung disagrees with that. “Just because I’m an open book doesn’t mean you have to be,” he explains, fingers drawing nonsensically across his desk. “I wouldn’t want you to be anything you’re not around me. Likewise I wouldn’t want you to push yourself to do things you’re uncomfortable with.”

“That’s the thing,” interrupts Jimin. “I don’t think I’m uncomfortable talking about myself, at least not with you.” Taehyung can’t help but beam at that. Is it wrong of him to feel a bit special? “But I’m just not used to it. I’ve never had this before,” Jimin adds. 

Taehyung furrows his brow, cocking his head to one side. “What? Someone to talk to?”

“A friend,” Jimin corrects.

It’s like fire has met water inside Taehyung’s stomach and hardened like a stone. It breaks his heart to think that someone so selfless, so wonderful, so caring, has never had someone to treat him the way he treats the world.

Everyone deserves a friend. Everyone deserves someone to depend on.

“I feel incredibly privileged to be considered your friend, Park Jimin,” Taehyung whispers, words laced with such affection he thinks he could all but offer his heart to Jimin right now. He reaches across the desk for the boy’s hands, cradles them tenderly within his own and rubs soothing circles into Jimin’s knuckles. “I care about you a lot.”

Taehyung can feel the way Jimin’s pulse quickens from where his fingertips brush across the underside of his wrists. Jimin’s eyes blow to the size of saucers and his mouth parts ever so slightly, just enough so that Taehyung can see his little crooked front tooth.

“Why?” Jimin asks eventually, the silent bubble popping around them as though shot with an arrow. Taehyung chuckles as Jimin’s face scrunches up in worry once more, clearly not meaning to say that, clearly searching for a way to take it back and move on as if nothing happened.

But Taehyung just squeezes the boy’s hands tighter in his grip, smile as reassuring as it can be. “You’re a good person, Park Jimin,” Taehyung begins. “I don’t think many people in this harsh world would take the incredible gift they’ve been given and use it to help others so selflessly as you do. You’re like a breath of fresh air in a world so stuffy with greedy pollution, like the sun peeking through the clouds on an overcast day. You make me want to be a better person; I admire you so much.”

Jimin closes in on himself with every word given to him and Taehyung hates to see it. Hates to think that Jimin disagrees with all the beauty he holds.

“Do you think I’m lying?” he asks.

There’s a weak shake to Jimin’s head. “It’s hard to believe, though.”

“Then, as your friend, I will make sure to show you all the things you cannot see,” Taehyung promises. “Let me be the one who takes care of you whilst you take care of the world.”

The little hands between Taehyung’s own are shaking, Jimin’s bottom lip wobbling on tears that are stubbornly gathering in the corners of his almond eyes. His irises are liquid pools of ink, pretty lashes brushing kisses against the full redness of his cheeks every time he blinks until his tears finally stain them.

In a quick move, Taehyung rounds the desk and takes Jimin’s face in his hands. “You’re so strong, Jimin,” he praises, swiping away every tear that falls, dutifully collecting each and every one. “If you want to cry it’s okay.”

Jimin just nods, sniffling away his sadness, before shutting his eyes and letting his tears fall silently into Taehyung’s hands.

The autumn sun is low on the horizon beyond the classroom window. It casts the shadows across the floor long and spindly. The open window lets in a breeze so cool it has Taehyung craving for the sticky humidity of summer once more.

But Jimin looks good painted in purples and pinks of the late afternoon. Even through his tears Taehyung marvels at the pretty curve of his full cherub cheeks, drinks in the blush of his plush lips and cherishes the smooth touch of his wet cheeks beneath his palm.

He would very easily give the world to Jimin if he could.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, with Taehyung catching tears that Jimin has long since needed to cry, but it feels like no time has passed at all before Jimin is opening his eyes and whispering a heartfelt thank you .

Taehyung holds that thank you in his chest, selfishly locks it away just for himself.

“Always,” he promises, before pulling Jimin against his chest in a bone crushing hug.

____________

The days are bleeding together like a painter’s pallet that’s been shoved under a tap.

They move by fast, too fast for Taehyung to catch, and suddenly he’s looking at the final grades for the third year mock exams on the last day of the semester.

Winter vacation starts tomorrow.

Taehyung can’t bring himself to see what his score is.

Instead, he hides away on the roof, an excited anticipation for lunch time to roll around and Jimin’s pretty face to pop around the door and call out for him.

Lunch had always been Taehyung’s favourite lesson of the day, but now so more than ever. The forty-five minutes shared between just Jimin and he are the most treasured parts to Taehyung’s days. And, predictably, the parts that speed by the quickest.

Why can’t math class go by as fast as lunch?

His class are currently running laps out on the school field and Taehyung is folding paper cranes out of all the random sheets of paper that had been passed out throughout the term and is now no longer useful. If he folds 100 will his wish come true? Surely old wives tales must hold some kind of validation in them, else why would people still be talking about them now?

Not that Taehyung really has a wish he wants granted.

The door to the roof opens before the bell for lunch chimes and Taehyung raises his face with a wide, mega watt smile in greeting. “Chim chim!” he sing songs, throwing his arms in the air and waving them like he just don’t care.

Sadly, his carefree glee is ripped roughly from him when his eyes settle on the disappointed look resting across Jimin’s face. “You skipped.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung smiles, waving a dismissive hand in front of his face. “It’s the last day, we’re not going to learn anything on the last day.”

Jimin storms his way across the school roof and drops a green paper folder stuffed to the brim with paper right into Taehyung’s lap. “They explained the process for applying to Universities,” he explains, hands on hips like a mother scolding their child. “We have until the end of December to apply for the College of our choice. It’s a long winded and frankly over complicated process that I just managed to understand.”

Humming, Taehyung lets go of the crane he was working on in favour of opening the cover of the green folder. “Looks complicated,” he titters, turning back to his crane. “Good thing I’m not going to college.”

The heat behind Jimin’s eyes fades, arms dropping at his sides like someone’s just dumped cold water on him. “What?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nods. “My grandpa’s not looking all that great these days and I’d like to get him off his feet sooner rather than later.” It’s not so much of a lie, but it’s not wholly truthful either. Taehyung just doesn’t want to try for something he knows he’s going to fail.  He’s a coward, but he’s gradually come to accept that over the last few days.

“Bullshit,” Jimin counters and it has Taehyung’s mouth falling open like he’s catching flies. He turns a wide eyed look on Jimin, who has his hands back on his hips and disappointment furrowing his brow. “You’re just chicken shit.”

Swallowing around a dry lump in his throat, Taehyung averts his gaze back to the crane he’s been folding. “I could be a millionaire if the rate of your swearing continues.”

Jimin scoffs. “How could you give me all this crap about doing what makes me happy when you can’t even do that for yourself?”

“Excuse you,” Taehyung huffs. “I’m very happy at the prospect of helping my family out, thanks.”

“You would be happier if you went to college and got yourself a degree that could actually help your family out,” Jimin corrects. “I never pegged Kim Taehyung to be a coward.”

Taehyung’s lips pull into a harsh flat line. “Well I guess you just keep learning new things about me every day.”

“I’m disappointed in you,” Jimin continues, words sharp as they jab into Taehyung’s chest.

“So am I,” Taehyung mutters, and for the second time that afternoon Jimin’s anger deflates out of him like an untied balloon.

Jimin slumps to his knees, hands on his thighs and just bores holes into the side of Taehyung’s head whilst he sets about folding another paper crane. He’s on his twentieth now, somewhat wishing he had a pretty array of coloured paper other than the subtle off white almost grey tinge to the school's usual paper.   

“Tae,” Jimin calls and it’s the first time Jimin has called out to him with an affectionate little nickname. It has Taehyung’s heart soaring in his chest as he hums. “Why don’t you want to go to college?”

Taehyung shrugs.

“No, don't give me that,” Jimin scolds. “Talk to me.”

“There’s not much to say, I’m just not going.”

“Aren’t we friends?” Jimin asks and Taehyung can hear the deep pout on his lips without even looking at Jimin’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to confide in me?”

Shooting a sharp glare towards his friend, Taehyung huffs. “It’s stupid.”

Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t think it is.”

“I haven’t even told you yet,” Taehyung counters. “So how can you know if it’s not?”

“I just know,” Jimin replies and there’s a no nonsense sort of look about his eye, a finality in his words. He’s urging Taehyung to trust him, and the glow up their friendship has had over the last few weeks is beautiful.

Slowly, Taehyung twirls the twentieth crane in his long fingers before placing them with the others by his thigh. There’s a sharp coldness in the air that can only come from winter winds, it rustles through the thin, spindly branches of the bare trees, kicks up the last remains of fallen leaves on the ground and sends shivers down Taehyung’s spine.

He can smell snow. He hopes it snows a lot this year.

“Why should I take an exam I know I’m going to fail?” he says, more so to the little army of cranes protectively sitting alongside him.

There’s a beat of a pause before Jimin slips off his knees and onto his butt. “Well, why not?” he asks, and the retaliating question sounds very Taehyung like . “If everyone resigned themselves to the fact they’re going to fail before they even try then no one would accomplish anything. We would still be stuck in the stone age shivering to death because man didn’t even want to try and make fire.”

“You calling me a Neanderthal?” Taehyung jokes.

Jimin cocks a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Tae, be serious.”

Raising his hands in silent resignation, Taehyung lets a long sigh past his lips. “I’ve been sighing a lot recently,” he comments, fingers ghosting across his lips. “I don’t like it.”

“I think you’re stuck,” Jimin offers. “Stuck in the mud without hope of getting out.”

Taehyung flops his legs out in front of him and rests back on the palms of his hands. “That’s one way to look at it I suppose.”

“I want to help,” Jimin offers. “I think getting you unstuck will help you find the drive to move on.”

“I dunno how to get unstuck, though,” Taehyung counters. “Trust me I’ve been thinking about it for so long now that I don’t think I’m capable of thinking about it anymore.”

Reaching out for the folder that Taehyung has fruitfully been ignoring, Jimin opens it up to the first page. “It’s a good thing that I’m super-duper excellent at problem solving,” he winks, tapping his fingers at the page in the green file. “I found this.”

Reluctantly, Taehyung steals his gaze down at the folder and is met with a printed web page about an agricultural business course at a little college in the centre of Seoul. It had an A-B system in which A months are spent learning in the classroom and B months are spent learning out in the field, literally getting your hands dirty.

It teaches you how to make a business out of produce, how to look for the right type of distributor for your products and it also has a whole unit on how to organise your farm grounds for optimal success.

Like Feng Shui for your crops , Taehyung reads, and he can’t help but to snicker at that.

“Looks interesting,” Taehyung comments dryly, taking in the sight of two girls holding a pig across their arms that is certainly going to grow to be double the size of them one day. “What are the requirements to get in?”

Jimin taps his finger at a little box in the bottom left hand side of the page and Taehyung winces. “My grades are no way near that.”

“But they could be,” says Jimin and the optimism in his voice is admirable. Taehyung wishes he could feel that positive about this whole thing too. “You’re not dumb, Tae, you’re just stuck. If you apply yourself, you can achieve anything.”

Taehyung doesn’t believe him, after all, it’s easy to speak of getting good grades when you’re a top student like Park Jimin. “Entrance exams are two month away.”

“And?” Jimin counters, eyes sparkling.

Pushing the folder away from himself, Taehyung flops against the floor, stretching his arms above his head. “And I didn’t even pass the mock exams.”

“Because you didn’t even try,” says Jimin, leaning right over Taehyung so that his face is hanging just above his own. “I won’t let you fail, Kim Taehyung, not if this is something you really want to do.”

Is it?

Is this something Taehyung really wants to do?

He honestly doesn’t know.

The pointer finger of Jimin’s right hand presses against the pinch between Taehyung’s eyebrows and massages it until Taehyung is no longer frowning. “Talk to me.”

Taehyung whines like he’s just been rudely awoken at the ass crack of dawn to get ready for school. “I dunno what to say.”

“That’s a first,” Jimin scoffs.

The side of Taehyung’s knee knocks against Jimin’s side in warning. “Watch it,” Taehyung gripes, and Jimin giggles in response. It’s been a while since he heard Jimin’s giggles, they still sound saccharine sweet in Taehyung’s ears. It twinkles like Christmas bells and has a little bit of the anxiety wrapped around Taehyung’s heart melt away like snow under the first rays of the spring sun.

Jimin collapses atop of Taehyung’s stomach, no longer bothering to hold himself up on the palms of his hands. He rearranges himself across Taehyung’s stomach until he’s propped his chin up under his hands and is battering his lashes up at Taehyung.

Come to think of it, this must be an incredibly unflattering upshot view Jimin must have of Taehyung right now.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, since you asked me about what I want to do with my life,” Jimin says, his smile is soft and wonderfully genuine. Taehyung commits the sight to memory, locking it away in the back of his head for rainy days. It’s still so rare to see Jimin smiling genuinely happy. His eyes seem lighter, brighter than when the two had first started talking together, however, and Taehyung counts that as an incredible win.

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut a little, as if mentally taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m going to stop my TV shows any time soon, but I think, one day, I’d really like to do something mundane.”

“Mundane?” Taehyung asks. “What counts as mundane?”

“I dunno,” Jimin shrugs, his smile not once fading. “Maybe working in a book shop or a café or something.”

With a snort, Taehyung props his head up under his hands. “You don’t really need to go to college for that.”

With a nod, Jimin sighs. “Yeah, but I also really like studying, and if I can go to college and expand my horizons then I’d really like to,” he explains and there’s a passionate little glitter in his eyes that Taehyung has never seen before. “There are so many different things out there that I have yet to learn about, did you know that I could study about rocks? There’s a whole degree out there devoted to the study of rocks; can you believe that?”

God it’s just so cute seeing Jimin so passionate about something. It’s refreshing, like a cool breeze on a hot day. Taehyung isn’t sure whether his being around Jimin is helping him to come out of his own shell or whether Jimin was always like this and is gradually feeling more comfortable opening up to Taehyung, but either way, Taehyung loves it.

“I’m not really sure what I want to study, maybe I can study a lot of different things,” Jimin marvels. “Do you think I can do that?”

Taehyung nods enthusiastically, a smile contagiously wide about his face. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Chim, you’re brilliant like that.”

There’s a sweet little blush that tickles across Jimin’s full cheeks. His eyelashes flutter, mouth popped open in surprise at the compliment.

Taehyung wants to kiss the surprise from his face…

“Thanks,” Jimin mutters, averting his eyes away from Taehyung’s heated gaze. “The confidence you have in me made me talk to my Mom about it all.”

A lump lodges in the back of Taehyung’s throat. This is the first time Jimin has purposefully brought up his mother not just in casual passing. Taehyung has tried approaching the topic before, but each time Jimin had seized up like he’d just been slapped and quickly moved the conversation onto something else.

On more than one occasion, Taehyung had spotted Ms Park waiting for Jimin outside the school gates with a foul look about her face. Like she smelt something horrid. Her car looked wholly out of place for the modest little village they lived in, a glimmering high end model that Taehyung didn’t know the name of nor could even imagine how much it cost.

Clearly she was a woman of expensive taste and Taehyung couldn’t help but to feel bad vibes from her.

“What did she say?” Taehyung probes gently.

Jimin swallows thickly. “She wasn’t particularly happy.” There’s a wince around his eyes that Taehyung catches and makes his blood run cold. “But we came to a compromise.”

“And what’s that?” Taehyung asks, trying his best to keep his voice indifferent.

“She’ll let me attend the college of my choice and study whatever it is I wish to study, so long as I keep up with my filming schedule,” he explains, voice somewhat melancholy. “I guess it’s the best of both worlds like this, but my mother really doesn’t want me to stop doing what I’m doing.”

Probably because TV stations would pay a hefty amount for a medium that has never once been wrong.

“Are you happy with that?” Taehyung asks. “Truly?”

Jimin nods, but the sad droop to the corners of his eyes has Taehyung worried. “I mean, if I get to go to College, then I’m happy to keep working for my Mom.”

“Being happy to do something and being happy are two different things,” Taehyung clarifies.

“I know,” Jimin mutters. “But this is better than nothing.”

There are so many things Taehyung has to say, so many opinions he has regarding this matter. But he knows, this time, to bite his tongue. Because Jimin has tried to do something that had his best interests at heart, and to some extent he succeeded. So really, this is a good thing, no matter how much it smells.

Offering his friend a warm smile, Taehyung reaches out to ruffle his hair like he’s nothing but a little kid. “Proud of you,” he praises, and Jimin beams. “Which college are you going to apply to?”

“Well, actually,” Jimin begins, eyes averting back to the green folder. “When I was looking up courses for you, I fell in love a bit with this college,” he reaches his fingers out to run along the website page. “And I thought, well, wouldn’t it be fun if we could go to the same College?”

Taehyung’s chest is so incredibly warm. Like it’s filled with sunshine. “We could share accommodation,” he offers, thoughts running away with him. “We could get a dog!”

Jimin giggles again and it has the warm sunlight running through Taehyung’s veins until he feels light enough to float away. “Calm down, Tae, we’ll be broke College kids, we can’t afford a dog.”

Through a thick pout, Taehyung wiggles like a spoiled child. “But I want a dog!”

“You can have as many dogs as you’d like once you’re running the best farm in the country,” Jimin offers, the undertones to that promise not lost on Taehyung.

“I see what you’re trying to do, Park Jimin,” Taehyung huffs, eyes narrowed.

With a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows, Jimin smirks. “Is it working?”

Leaving a moment for a dramatic pause, Taehyung pouts. “Perhaps just a little.”

“Perhaps just a lot?” Jimin probes once more, eyes back to glittering expectantly at Taehyung, almost as though he holds galaxies in his irises. “I’ll help you study, we can be study buddies?” he offers like he’s trying his best to win a sale in a bidding war. “I really think the best way to get yourself unstuck is to take my offered help and try to power through.”

Jimin is right.

But god does Taehyung loath to admit that.

He jams his eyes shut, listens to the buzzing background noise of the school and feels that anxiety that’s been wrapping around his chest tighten tenfold. “I’ve never felt this scared before. It’s like the whole world is moving on and I’m just frozen in time.”

“Only you can find the willpower to get yourself moving again,” Jimin offers kindly. “Ultimately my help can only go so far, but if you’re hearts not in this, then it’s not in this.”

“I want to go to university,” Taehyung whispers. “I want to make my family proud.”

Jimin nods, tangling his fingers with the hand Taehyung had moments before been ruffling through Jimin’s unruly locks. He squeezes tight and Taehyung squeezes back on instinct. “Then, let's work hard together, lets live the lives we want to live.”

Maybe there are tears collecting in Taehyung’s eyes, but he tilts his head back to stop them from falling. Jimin’s grip tightens and it feels like a lifeline, like he’s a wayward kite being pulled back to earth after days of getting lost in the wind.

“I’m scared,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Jimin whispers back. “But we can be scared together.”

And for the first time in days, the tightness in his chest loosens.

“Okay,” he agrees. 

____________

Winter is magical.

There’s just something that hangs in the air and tickles across your skin that promises of something more something great is coming.

People always talk about how winter is bleak, cold and dark but Taehyung thinks that’s because they haven’t stopped to feel what winter has to offer. The world is busy enough that humanity rarely stops to smell the flowers, and the probability of doing so in winter with a chill creeping under your hundreds of layers of clothes is less so.

But Taehyung spends more time stopping to enjoy everything winter has to offer him than he does with any other season. He likes the way his nose tints red, his fingers snuggly warm in his gloves and the bottom of his face wrapped up in the biggest scarf his grandmother has ever knitted for him.

Everything is silver under the crisp white days of winter. Jack frost drips ice from barren trees and along the eaves of houses, showering the world in diamonds and pearls that everyone turns their noses up at. Winter is so fleeting, so sudden, that if Taehyung were to blink then he could very well miss it all.

He likes to throw stones into the frozen river along the side of the school just to test which sections are thickest with ice. He likes to make odd shaped snowmen, caring not for symmetry and beauty, and opting more for personality through sculpting. Sometimes, he even goes looking for little hideaway hibernation holes of animals that unfortunately have to sleep their way through such a pretty season.

But nothing beats spending a cold winter evening wrapped up in blankets in front of the fire, nursing his mother’s world class hot chocolate. His father will read stories aloud rather than the newspaper quietly to himself, throwing his voice for each character and sending Taehyung’s younger siblings into fits of giggles.

Winter is for family, fun and magic.

“Chim, please , let’s play a little bit before the sun sets?” Taehyung begs, pencil rolling off of his desk and clattering to the floor rather loudly in the silent library. Taehyung doesn’t spend time in any library, let alone the school library, so the fact Jimin and he have been sat here for four hours straight is exhausting .

Not for the first time since they began their daily study session, Jimin narrows a sharp glare over the top of his biology book. “Is it 5pm?” he asks.

Looking over to the clock, Taehyung groans. “It’s only been five minutes since I last checked?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Back to the books,” Jimin scolds, tapping his pencil against the open English book Taehyung has splayed across his desk. “I thought you liked English?”

“I do,” Taehyung agrees. “Speaking it, anyway, studying anything kinda sucks.”

Clearly Jimin disagrees if his eye roll is anything to go by. “Think of this as levelling up.”

“In what?” asks Taehyung with a mocking cock of his eyebrow.

Jimin snickers. “The game of life,” he jokes, and Taehyung lets out another long, tedious groan. “Look, you’ve done a good job so far, why don’t I go get us a snack and when I come back we can take a ten minute break?” Jimin offers.

He doesn’t need to offer twice, Taehyung nodding his head viciously like he’s a little bobble head stuck to the dashboard of a tanker. “I want a snickers,” he smiles.

“You gotta study till I get back though,” Jimin adds with a no nonsense look in his eye. “Promise?”

Reluctantly, Taehyung holds up his pinkie finger. “Promise,” he repeats, a giddy upbeat kick to his heart echoes in his chest as Jimin wraps his adorably tiny pinkie around Taehyung’s considerably larger one. 

A taunt is already on his tongue before they unlink their fingers, but Jimin narrows him with a poisonous look. “Not another word, Kim Taehyung, or I’ll bite you.”

“Kinky,” Taehyung smirks, wagging his eyebrows at his friend. A vibrant flush spreads across Jimin’s entire face and satisfaction sits heavy in Taehyung’s stomach. He’s come to enjoy teasing Jimin to the point he’s a flustered mess. He knows he sounds very much like the kids on the playground who tease their crushing by pulling on their pigtails.

But if you were to ever see how pretty Jimin looks dusted in rosy pinks and reds, then you would forgive Taehyung’s antics.

“I’ll be back,” Jimin mumbles, grabbing up his wallet from his jacket pocket and beelining for the door. “Study!” he throws over his shoulder, a last warning before he’s slipping down the corridor and towards the snack machines round by the bike racks.

Turning his eyes back to his textbook, Taehyung decides that the least he can do for Jimin is try and do his best. Studying is hard, and trying to stay focused for long periods of time has always come a little difficult to Taehyung. But throw in the fact Jimin is sat opposite him and this whole study buddy thing is impossible.

How is he meant to concentrate on conjunctive sentences when Jimin tends to obscenely chew on the tip of his pen as he concentrates? Does he know he’s doing it? Does he know it drives Taehyung absolutely insane .

He’s had a very easy time admitting that he has a not so subtle raging crush on Park Jimin, and he’s more than content not to act on those feelings anytime soon, considering they’ve worked so hard to get to the point they are now.

But god , it would be more than a little helpful if Jimin wasn’t, well, Jimin .

Towards the end of their study dates, when lethargy has gotten the better of the both of them, Jimin’s eyes droop heavily and his plush lips push out into a little pout that Taehyung has to force himself to purposefully not look at. Else he might very well lean across the table and kiss the sleepiness away.

Kissing Jimin’s lips would be like kissing a marshmallow; soft and warm.

Is that weird?

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about Jimin’s lips recently, it’s hard not to when they’re just so damn pretty.

Damn, he has it super bad for his almost best friend, doesn’t he?

Feeling an irritation of sitting and getting nowhere prickling at his skin, Taehyung turns away from the same sentence he’s read seven times now, and chances another glance at the clock. Jimin’s been gone for about ten minutes now, a little longer than is probably needed to walk the 200 feet to the snack machines and back.

Then again, Jimin is always a little indecisive when it comes to what he wants to eat. He internally debates with himself over whether he should break his mother’s strict dietary rules and give in to the wonderful temptation that is a Kit Kat for a solid five minutes before ultimately deciding against it. He seems to think that his mother can smell chocolate on him, even though he always gratefully takes the offered bite of Taehyung’s snickers anyway.

Deciding there’s nothing to worry about, and getting caught glaring at the clock would cause Jimin to lecture him for the nth time today, Taehyung turns his attention back to his book once more. He spends a few moments trying to figure out which sentence it was he had just red, finger scanning along the endless streams of English. Eventually he finds it, reads it again because the first seven times he really wasn’t concentrating, and then moves onto the next sentence.

Despite there being less than a handful of people still turning up to the school during the winter holidays, Taehyung is thankful that the place is kept warm. Jimin spends the day shivering in his seat, dressed in more layers than an onion has and maintains that the school is never warm.

He offers Jimin at least every half hour, not sure whether he can stand to hear Jimin’s teeth chattering in his head much longer, but he stubbornly refuses it. Maybe he should bring in some pocket warmers for him? Not that Jimin would keep his hands in his pockets much if he’s studying. But at least when he complains that his fingers have frozen around his pencil Taehyung can use the pocket warmers to thaw his hand.

Another glance at the clock and Taehyung furrows his brow. Twenty minutes is most definitely too for Jimin to have been gone. Scrapping his chair across the floor as he stands, his foot kicks his pencil across the library floor. Letting out a frustrated huff, Taehyung retrieves his pencil, sticks it behind his ear, and then makes his way out of the library in search of Jimin.

It’s a little eerie, he must admit, walking through the school out of school hours. He thinks he can hear the whispers of laughter and boisterous talking that still lingers in the hallways from the last semester. The floorboards are far noisier under his feet, squeaking and groaning with every step, almost loathed to carry Taehyung during their much needed winter vacation.

Their school isn’t all that big and isn’t all that new, but it’s well kept. The generic off white paint against the concrete walls has very few cracks of chips in it, there’s still a good shine to the windows and not a single door in the school has problems opening and closing.

Taehyung likes to think of it as a sign of a well loved institution, which he supposes it is considering no one has outright confessed their hatred for the place. There’s a certain type of loathing that comes with teenagers in regards to going to school, but that doesn’t mean they dislike the place.

With a little spring in his step that comes from the biting cold of the winter air seeping into the hallways from the open windows, Taehyung bounds through the door that leads to the bike racks and comes to a stop.

“Have I just walked through a time portal?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin, who had been standing beneath a large cherry blossom tree that sheltered the snack machines, turns on his heels with his eyes blown wide. “Tae,” he says a little breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

Brushing off Jimin’s question, Taehyung makes his way over to the tree, mind racing to try and comprehend if what he’s seeing is real or not. Because there, right in the middle of the silvery winter, is a fully blooming pastel pink cherry blossom tree.

“Seriously,” Taehyung whistles. “Did spring come early?”

With a shake of his head, Jimin turns to look up into the branches of the tree. “No, it hasn’t,” he explains. There’s three pink petals snuggly sat against the top of Jimin’s head, a light sprinkling of them across the grey concrete flooring almost as though the snow had been dyed pink this year.

Reaching out a careful hand, Taehyung runs his fingers over the lowest hanging branch he can reach, feeling the cherry blossoms tickle across his fingertips. “This is real.”

“Yes, it is,” Jimin confirms before slipping his hand over the crook of Taehyung’s elbow and pulling his arm away from the tree.

“Why is it blooming?” Taehyung asks, awe in his voice and eyes sparkling with excitement. This is better than Christmas morning.

He catches the gentle smile about Jimin’s face as he turns his gaze back up to the bountiful blossoms. “Someone has made themselves at home here,” he explains.

A cold shiver runs through Taehyung’s spine as he turns his gaze up to where Jimin is looking. But, predictably, he sees nothing. “L-like a ghost?”

Jimin hums. “Not really,” he explains. “Something else.”

Remembering the conversation the two of them had all those months ago about there being something else out in the world that left a terrified stiffness to Jimin’s mouth, Taehyung finds himself swallowing harshly. “A good something?”

“Do you think a bad something could make the flowers grow this beautifully?” Jimin asks softly.

Taehyung has to agree with him there and it has Tension seeping from his muscles as he lets a long breath past his teeth he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “So what kind of something is it?” he asks, subconsciously taking a little step closer to Jimin.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Jimin explains, reaching out his hand towards the tree and curling his fingers around thin air. “But they’re happy.”

“I would assume so considering these are the best blossoms I’ve ever seen,” Taehyung hums. “Too bad it’s winter and no one will appreciate them.”

Jimin hums sadly, retreating his hand. “We can at least appreciate them,” he says before slipping his hands into his pockets. “Tae, can you play mah-jong?”

Furrowing his brow at the odd question, Taehyung turns his attention to his friend. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he asks.

“I haven’t played mah-jong in such a long time,” Jimin explains without really explaining anything at all.

Taehyung feels like he’s back in the library trying to comprehend conjunctive sentences. “Has your brain overheated from studying too much?” asks Taehyung again. “Is the stress of exams finally getting to you?”

But Jimin just giggles, sweet and melodic, the best sound Taehyung has ever come to know. He smiles so incredibly tender as he spies the good something that’s up in the blossoming cherry tree. “I can teach you?” he offers Taehyung, excited glimmer in his eye. “There’s a set in the teachers room, I’ll go ask for it.”

“Don’t you need four players to play mah-jong?” Taehyung asks, lips twisted into a thin line.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand. “We’re not actually going to play; I’m just teaching you,” he says, and before Taehyung can voice once more how ludicrous this all is, Jimin is slipping back into the school.

Sparing another glance up at the empty, fully blossomed tree, Taehyung lets out a long sigh before stretching his arms above his head and letting out a long groan. “I dunno if you can hear me,” he begins, slipping of his coat to lay it on the ground. “But thank you for bringing us some spring, I think you made Jimin happy.” If the sweetly soft smile across the boy’s face is anything to go by, anyway.

A breeze rustles through the branches as Taehyung sits cross legged on the floor under the tree. It knocks off a small flurry of pretty pink petals that dance on the backs of the cold winter winds until they fall about Taehyung and catch in his hair and clothes. It’s almost as though the good something sitting high in the branches is whispering a heartfelt you’re welcome .

Taehyung’s not sure whether he’s dreaming or not, but there’s an exciting kind of tingling across his skin at the thought of talking to something that isn’t exactly human . When he had first seen Jimin all those years ago with his innocent smile, Taehyung didn’t really have an opinion in regards to whether he believed Jimin. He’s pretty logical, at least he likes to think so anyway, proof is important in regards to believing something.

There was clearly enough proof through Jimin’s TV shows, he knew things that no one but the deceased and their grieving friends and family knew. But still, there was always that niggling in the back of his head, an evil voice that whispered into the ears of the other kids at school that reminded them of the smoke and mirrors of show business.

Even when Jimin had admitted his ability outright to Taehyung he hadn’t really had an opinion on the validity of Jimin’s claim but he was more than willing to listen and learn about it. Come to think of it, however, this is the first time in which Jimin has allowed Taehyung to be around a peculiar something .

The poor student on the roof wasn’t something Taehyung was involved in, Jimin had made sure to deal with it in his own time away from prying eyes. Even though Taehyung knew of the ghost, he hadn’t really given much thought into whether the thing was real or not. Probably because it didn’t really have anything to do with him.

Not like now, anyway.

Now is… different.

“Sorry I took so long,” Jimin announces, shaking the box filled with mah-jong tiles in the air before sitting in front of Taehyung. “Ready to learn?”

With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung sighs. “That’s what we’ve been doing all day.”

Blessing Taehyung’s ears with another twinkling giggle, Jimin opens up the box and sets up the game, running his hands through the scattering of tiles as often as he can. “Shuffle them with me,” he asks of Taehyung who is quick to help. “There are 136 tiles including 36 characters, 36 bamboos and 36 circles which are the suits,” Jimin explains, holding up an example tile of each.

“Okay, makes sense,” Taehyung nods. “It's a bit like a deck of cards.”

“Kind of,” Jimin nods. “These suits are, in turn, divided into four sets of numbers, 1 to 9 in each suit. There are also 16 wind tiles and 12 dragon tiles.”

Taehyung furrows his brow, feeling himself getting lost before they’ve even really begun. “Complicated.”

Jimin shrugs. “It’s not so bad once you get the hand of things.”

“Who taught you to play?” Taehyung asks, watching as Jimin starts to build a wall of tiles in front of him. He counts out seventeen tiles that are placed face down before Jimin builds another row atop of them. “Should I be doing that?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, gesturing to the tiles. “Someone I met on set when I was younger taught me how to play,” he adds, building another mah-jong wall to the left of his own. “It’s a good thing to know.”

With a concentrated furrow to his brow and his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth, Taehyung hums. “Sure, I guess.”

Another giggle tumbles unbidden from Jimin’s lips and has Taehyung’s heart practically singing. He’s quick to finish his second wall of tiles before moving on to build another wall on his right. “It’s fun.”

“Beats studying,” Taehyung agrees before nodding in satisfaction at his own mah-jong tile wall. He reaches for the dice. “Do we roll to see who goes first?”

Shaking his head and swiftly finishing his last stack, Jimin lays his hand palm flat towards Taehyung, a silent request for the dice. “I’ll be the dealer,” he explains as Taehyung drops the dice into his hand.

“Why do you get to be the dealer?” Taehyung pouts like a spoiled child.

Rolling his eyes, Jimin shakes the dice in his loose fist. “Because I know how to play, dumbass.”

“1000 won for the swear jar,” Taehyung hisses under his breath. “Rates are doubled because we have company.”

There’s a fond sort of look about Jimin’s face that softens his almond shaped eyes and scrunches up his nose so adorably. “You’re a goof,” he teases before throwing the dice in the middle of the square mah-jong wall they’ve made. “Five,” Jimin announces before pointing a finger at the right most tile of his own stack and then counting along five tiles aloud. He splits the stack before placing the sixth tile face down to the invisible player on his left. Then he splits the stack on his left in a similar fashion and passes a tile to Taehyung. “This is how we deal; each player gets thirteen tiles; the dealer gets fourteen.”

“That I can handle,” Taehyung agrees, and between the two of them they have a game set up for four players despite their being only two people there.

“Do you understand so far?” Jimin asks and Taehyung nods, lining up his thirteen tiles so that they’re closely packed together. He’s seen people in anime flip the entire row over in one move, and he’s determined to at least come away from this impromptu lesson of mah-jong being the best tile flipper there is.

“Great,” Jimin beams before he knocks over all the tiles in front of him until they’re scattered across Taehyung’s coat again. “Then let's set the game up again,” he explains. “Help me shuffle.”

There’s a look of disbelief awash Taehyung’s face. “Why did you do that?

Jimin runs his hands through the tiles, the sound of them clacking against each other echoing around the empty bike racks. “A part of learning is practicing,” Jimin explains, no taunting malice behind his words in the slightest. “Help me shuffle, everyone must shuffle.”

Clucking his tongue, Taehyung does as he’s told, longer fingers mixing the tiles thoroughly. They don’t speak as they shuffle, and after a few moments Jimin starts stacking up his own tiles and Taehyung silently follows his lead. This time, Taehyung is faster with his stacking, moving on to stack the invisible player to his left’s tiles whilst Jimin works on the other one.

“The aim of the game is to get mahjong, which is getting all your tiles into four sets and one pair,” Jimin explains grabbing up the dice and rolling it across Taehyung’s jacket. “Three,” he says, before he starts counting.

“Right,” Taehyung nods, counting out his own stack and splitting it. “And what are the sets you need to get?”

Jimin is swift with his dealing, skilled hands making light work whilst Taehyung still fumbles a beat behind. “A set can either be a pung which is three identical tiles. Or a chow which is a run of three consecutive numbers in the same suit,” explains Jimin, hands resting on his thighs as he watches Taehyung straighten out his neat row of thirteen tiles. “You can’t use the same tile in two sets at once.”

“I think I’m following this,” Taehyung nods, licking across his dry lips. “And if my deductions skills are anything to go by, I’m guessing the dealer with the 14 tiles gets rid of one and the next person can either take that tile or pick up another?”

Jimin’s face is absolutely beaming with pride. “You’re almost there,” he praises. “But anyone can claim the discarded tile if it means completing mahjong or a pung. Else the turn is passed to the right.”

“I bet that can get a bit brutal,” Taehyung snorts.

With a soft smile, Jimin nods. “Gotta be quick,” he says, before knocking the tiles haphazardly back into the middle. “Again.”

Taehyung whines. “Again?”

“Again,” orders Jimin.

And so, Taehyung sets about shuffling through the tiles for the third time. He’s faster at setting up the game this time around, still no way near as close to Jimin’s speed. But that’s okay, because predictably, once the game is set up and ready to play, Jimin knocks them all over again and the pair go through the whole set up process once more. By the sixth time they do this, Taehyung could very well consider himself a pro at setting up a game of mahjong, hands as swift as Jimin’s as they clack through the tiles.

They never get to actually play, however, because a teacher on their way inside from cleaning out one of the club rooms on the other side of the school field, spots them and tells them it’s too cold to be playing games outside.

“You don’t even have enough players for mahjong,” Lee-seonsgangnim, the first year PE teacher comments, a furrow to his brow. “It may look like spring but the fact it’s going to snow later can attest to the fact it’s not.”

Taehyung can feel excitement bubbling across his skin. “I knew I could smell snow,” he exclaims, pleased as punch.

Jimin offers him a warm smile. “I don’t think the tree will bloom for much longer,” he comments, looking back up into the branches.

Lee-seongsangnim shivers, clearly not from the cold. “I think it has something to do with the rise in typhoons this year,” he explains. “The strong winds and constant dips and rises in temperature threw the cherry blossom trees out of balance.” He shrugs, as if not believing his own words, but far too stubborn to listen to whatever explanation the school medium has. “That’s what it said on the news anyway.”

Ignoring the teacher’s explanation, Jimin reaches out to clear up the tiles. “I’ll bring this back inside right away,” he promises.

“Good,” Lee-seongsangnim nods, pulling up the collar of his coat. “Good third years should be studying for their college entrance exams anyway.”

Taehyung resists the urge to stick his tongue out. “We were doing that,” he defends. “We were just taking a break.”

“After I put this away it’s back to the library,” Jimin adds as he begins dumping the tiles back into the box. With one last nod, Lee-seongsangnim spins on his heels and hurries away, clearly very eager to get as far away from Jimin as possible.

There’s a bad taste lingering in Taehyung’s mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Jimin, voice small. “It’s normal.”

“Shouldn’t be normal,” Taehyung counters. “He’s a teacher, isn’t there rules about being prejudiced?”

With a shrug, Jimin places the lid back on the box and pushes himself to his feet. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, turning his face back up to the tree. “We did a good thing today.”

Taehyung’s eyes look up as well, almost as though he’s still expecting to see something sitting there, staring down at him. A gentle cool, winters breeze shuffles it’s way through the branches and tickles across Taehyung’s skin. The tree is still very much empty, to Taehyung anyway, but his gut is telling him that there is indeed something up there.

It’s unnerving.

“Don’t you still need to help them, I dunno…” Taehyung begins, waving his hands about himself as he struggles to find the right words. Eventually, he makes moving on motions and Jimin chokes back a laugh.

“If it were a ghost, I would,” Jimin explains. “But this is different.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Taehyung watches as a whole flower falls from a very low hanging branch and lands on the hood of his coat that’s still laying across the floor. “Is there anything you can do to help them?”

There’s a knowing twinkle in Jimin’s eye, smile soft across his plush lips again. “Did you know that some people say the sound of mahjong tiles clacking together brings good fortune?”

“Did you know you sound very much like a fortune cookie right now?” Taehyung counters.

This time Jimin really does let a loud laugh blossom free from his chest. His right hand reaches up to cover his mouth and his body folds itself in half. Taehyung loves how every part of Jimin laughs when he’s happy, loves that his left hand clings to the fabric of Taehyung’s sweater as he’s overcome in glee.

“Come on,” Jimin gasps between chuckles. “Let’s head back inside.”

Nodding, Taehyung reaches down to grab up his coat. “Do we still get that ten minute break.”

“This was our break,” Jimin clarifies, picking up the box of mahjong, chuckles dying slowly on his tongue. Almost like he’s savoring the happiness. It breaks Taehyung’s heart to think that maybe Jimin doesn’t get a lot of happy days. “We can study some arithmetic next.”

“You’re evil,” Taehyung whines, throwing his arms to the sky like he’s been scorned.

“Clam down drama queen,” Jimin snickers, knocking playfully into Taehyung’s side. “We have a goal, remember?”

Let out an exaggeratedly long sigh and slumping himself a little deeper into Jimin’s side, Taehyung nods. “Can we at least take a break if it starts snowing? I want to appreciate the snowfall.”

“Of course, Tae-tae,” Jimin agrees, reaching out for Taehyung’s hand and giving it a little reassuring squeeze.

Chancing one last look over his shoulder at the tree, Taehyung does his best to commit to memory the sight of a brilliantly pink cherry blossom in full bloom against the silvery winter sky. Because tomorrow morning when he arrives for another study day with Jimin, the tree is barren once more.

____________

By the midway point of winter vacation, Taehyung has very much gotten into a routine with studying. So much so that on the days in which Jimin can’t join him because of his somewhat hectic film schedule, Taehyung can keep up a decent studying mentality for the majority of the day.

It’s safe to say, though, that he does get distracted every now and then. Sometimes he watches snowflakes cling to the windows and slowly melt against the escaping warmth of the library. Or he goes for a walk through the endless stacks of books until he reaches the very back row and compares the dust on each book to see which is the most sought after one.

He doesn’t leave the library much, he knows that the moment he steps foot outside of it then his studying mentality will completely die, and he’ll preoccupy himself with the wonders of an empty school in winter.

On days in which it’s Jimin and him, however, he feels the most productive. Jimin offers him kind praises and gently teaches him things he doesn’t understand. He’ll bring kimbap for lunch, too. It’s always more than enough for the both of them to eat, but Taehyung isn’t one to complain in the face of free food. Especially if it’s been made by Jimin.

By the time he’s finished the application process for his college of choice, the tight grip around Taehyung’s chest has loosened so much so that he can barely feel it anymore. It helps that Jimin is with him every step of the way. It’s nice to have someone believe in you even when you struggle to believe in yourself.

Taehyung is confident and headstrong, he knows this. But sometimes he has his moments of weakness. Being faced with the rest of his life and subsequently losing all hope at doing well, was a moment of weakness.

Because now he’s more than a little determined to get onto that agricultural business course and find a rundown apartment in Hongdae that’s still a little too steep in rent for both him and Jimin and start the next chapter of their lives.

Together.

Taehyung really likes the prospect of his future being together with Jimin.

____________

After winter vacation ends, the two of them study together any chance they get. Be it between classes when they have a five minute respite, or after school when they take advantage of the fact the school stays open until 10pm. Even during their lunch time rooftop dates Jimin will have revision cards ready on hand to throw a random pop quiz Taehyung’s way.

As the days trudge by, Taehyung laughs and smiles and studies alongside Jimin like the two of them have been inseparable since birth. People have stopped scribbling as much hate across Jimin’s desk, they don’t hide tacks in his shoes either and thankfully Taehyung hasn’t had to fish any of Jimin’s belongings out of the river. Considering the temperature is below freezing outside, he doesn’t fancy wading out into the icy winter waters.

Taehyung likes to think that perhaps the fact Taehyung and Jimin hang out together has resulted in their classmates seeing the errors of their ways and as a result have stopped the bullying. But logically the entirety of third year is currently preparing for both graduation and entrance exams and clearly don’t have the time to harass someone.

No one has really spoken much to Taehyung recently either, not that Taehyung has bothered to reach out to his classmates in turn. He keeps his nose glued in a textbook every spare moment he gets, trying to cram as much extra information into his head as he possibly can.  

“Anju,” Daejun whines, reaching across to knock his foot against Anju’s chair. “If you’re going to sleep, stay home.”

Removing his head from his chemistry textbook, Taehyung spies the desk in front of him and pities the exhausted look about Anju’s face. He’s completely slumped over his desk, eyes desperately trying to stay open and not drool all over his notebook. It’s no secret Anju attends cram schools until the wee hours in the morning after school ends. Poor kid is pushing himself too hard.

“Leave him be,” Taehyung warns, closing his textbook and shaking his own exhaustion from his head. “He’s gotta sleep somewhere.”

Anju groans as if in agreement, but the noise reminds Taehyung of a zombie. “Yearbook committee this afternoon,” he explains, breifly.

Daejun’s eyes blow wide. “I thought you dropped that?”

“You need to lessen your workload,” Taehyung adds.

“Not much longer,” Anju mutters like he’s dreaming. “Home stretch now.”

Which is true. There’s only a week left till graduation and two weeks left till entrance exams and the stress of it all hangs incredibly heavily in the air. Taehyung’s not sure whether he’s ready to graduate. He’s definitely ready to get on with college life, excited to start it, even. But leaving behind everything he’s known for the past 19 years is hard.

They live in a small town and the majority of kids in Taehyung’s year he’s been with since kindergarten. He’s done his best to fit in here, knows the way it works and has been able to ride the wave of school life as best he could. He’s the mood maker, the comic relief, who knows what he’ll be out in the real world.

If you can even consider college the real world.

“At least year books go out tomorrow and you have one less thing to worry about,” Daejun placates.

Oh, shit they do? “I didn’t order one,” Taehyung mumbles. “Forgot about it.”   

“Can you guys shut up?” Kim-seongasangnim bellows from across the hall, face red. “You may have self-study right now but that doesn’t mean it’s an excuse to mess around. You guys are graduating soon, act your age!”

A chorus of yes sir ’s echoes from every student in Taehyung’s class, heads hung in shame. All except Anju, who’s very clearly fallen asleep.

Jimin is hiding his giggles behind his hand as he chances a look over at Taehyung across the hall. He wiggles his textbook – of which is biology not chemistry – at Taehyung, reminding him to get back to studying.

Taehyung does as he’s told with a roll of his eyes.

____________

No one tells you just how fast your school years pass.

Taehyung feels like he’s spent the majority of his childhood wishing to get older when he could have paused every now and again and just appreciated the time and place he’s in.

No one tells you to savor all the moments; the good, the bad and even the ugly.

So as Taehyung sits on the roof of a school he spent three years of his life trying to shape himself to be a good, well educated member of society, he cannot help but to feel an overwhelming sense of melancholy.

This is it. This is the end.

He’s taken his college entrance exams, he’s waiting on the results of his fate, but either way he’ll never come back to this school again. He’ll never walk alongside the river and listen to the song the frogs have for him in the summer. He’ll never daydream out the window on the back row of his classroom when he’s supposed to be listening to Pythagoras’ theorem. He’ll never smell winter on the backs of the autumn winds, bringing a promising tickle of snow across his skin.

Taehyung will never be this young again. Today is the youngest he’ll ever be and when he walks out of this school for the last time his youth will be caged inside.

It’s terrifying.

Taking a long deep inhale of the stagnant early spring air, Taehyung flops against the floor of the roof and closes his eyes to the clouds that polka dot the endless expanse of blue above him. He feels small, smaller than he’s ever felt before in his life. There’s so much waiting for him once he leaves this school that it’s weighing down on his shoulders like a ton of bricks.

Why is he so scared? He had been waiting for this moment for 19 years. Dreamt of the day he could wave his school life goodbye and head out into a more understanding world. A world where he doesn’t have to pander to the fickle and frankly mean ways of the majority, a world where he can dress in brightly coloured clothing and not be teased for it. A world in which he can speak his mind and not be so heavily ridiculed because he’ll be speaking to fellow adults who have similar views.

Absentmindedly, Taehyung thinks that he doesn’t really know anything of the life that awaits him after high school. He knows better than to believe reality will meet his expectations.

“There you are,” Jimin calls and he sounds out of breath, like perhaps he’s been running around the whole school. Probably has, Taehyung had said he was going to come in today just to give his teachers one last thank you and one last goodbye.

But he hadn’t found the courage to do so just yet.

There isn’t very many students in today, the majority of the third years said their goodbyes on graduation day and the lower years only have school in the morning.

Taehyung had made the executive last minute decision to not go to graduation. Instead, he had hidden himself away in the back of his classroom and let himself say his goodbyes in his own way. A carnation had been left on his desk; everyone had gotten one, though, it was a graduation present from the teachers. Taehyung had carefully unwrapped it from its plastic and found the prettiest vase that the school had to offer before placing it on the little table at the front of the classroom.

That was his way of saying goodbye. He didn’t need the formalities of graduation; he didn’t want to hear their principle ominously call out his name in a room full of serious silence. Knowing Taehyung’s luck, he would have tripped on his way to receive his diploma and bitten the gymnasium floor hard .

Jimin told him the gist of it all afterwards, said that a few kids hadn’t come because the school had scheduled graduation on the day of private college entrance exams. So even though people were sad he hadn’t attended, it was okay that he didn’t.

Sometimes, people need to deal with things alone.

“I’m disappointed in myself,” Jimin sighs, slumping down next to Taehyung on the roof. “I knew I should have checked our secret rendezvous point first.”

Taehyung’s hand rests across his eyes, shielding some of the brightness of the sky. He smirks, softly. “This is our clubhouse,” he corrects.

With a hum, Jimin shuffles as he tries to get comfortable. “What kind of club are we in?”

“The best friends club,” Taehyung says without even thinking.

There’s a beat of a pause that rings loudly in Taehyung’s ears.

“I’m your best friend?” Jimin asks in a weak, breathless voice.

Peering out from under his hand, Taehyung is met by a serious look about Jimin’s face. His eyes are wide, shimmering with anticipation under the expanse of blue above them. The rays of the sun peeking out from behind the sprinkling of clouds casts Jimin’s face in gold, just like when they first spoke.

Everything is gold when it comes to Jimin. His sandy golden hair, his peachy lips that drip golden giggles and his golden heart that’s three sizes too big for his little body to carry.

“Of course,” Taehyung says and there’s earnest sincerity in his voice. “You’re the bestest friend I’ve ever had.”

Another pause hangs heavily between them.

Faintly, Taehyung can hear the trickling of the river, the distant whispers of voices from the few people that are at school, the rustling of the gentle March breeze through the newly blossoming trees.  

And then Jimin starts to cry.

It’s the kind of crying that’s so overwhelming that not even Jimin himself realizes that he’s doing it. His face stays a mask of serious surprise; his glistening almond eyes melt like inky black pools as tears gather in the corners. His plush bottom lip wobbles until Jimin finds himself sinking his teeth into it. And just as the first tear splatters against the rosy apples of his cheeks falls, Jimin gasps, fingers flying to his eyes as if wholly confused as to why there are tears there.

In an instant, Taehyung is sitting up right and crowding into Jimin’s space, fingers deftly catching every tear that Jimin has to shed.

“Jiminie, Jiminie,” he coos gently, voice only loud enough for Jimin’s ears. “Why are you crying?” With a shake of his head, Jimin reluctantly releases a sob that had been locked away in his chest. Taehyung chuckles like he’s calming down a child who broke their toy. “Are these happy tears or sad tears?”

“I—” Jimin sniffles down another sob. “I dunno.”

Cupping the boy’s face, Taehyung tilts it so that the two can lock eyes. “I’m sorry the world was so wicked to you, Park Jimin. But I promise, so long as I’m around, I’ll make up for it tenfold,” he swears, feeling very much like a noble knight of the high court laying his life on the line for his king.

Another broken sob escapes Jimin’s chest and he jams his eyes shut, forcing a cascade of tears to stain his pretty pink cheeks. Taehyung dutifully wipes them away, catching them with his thumbs.

“You’ve already done so much,” comes Jimin’s small voice, eyes opening to look at Taehyung once more and they’re so watery that they remind Taehyung of the ocean at night. Endless and deep and sorrowful. “I wish I had the courage to talk to you sooner, I wish I had known you earlier,” he sobs, and his words crack around his vowels.

Taehyung has never been one to believe in wishing things were different. “I think we met at the right time,” he says, a thoughtful twist to his lips. “Fate understands what we need most and when we need it most and has a way of matching people together just at the right moment.”

“There’s no such thing as fate,” Jimin whispers. “Everything is inevitable.”

“Well then,” Taehyung chuckles, squishing Jimin’s cheeks together until his lips pucker like a fish’s mouth. Jimin groans, slamming his eyes shut as Taehyung’s giggles over him a little bit. “It was inevitable for us to speak when we did,” he explains with a smile wide across his face. “It was inevitable for me to be your friend Park Jimin.”

One last sob erupts from Jimin’s chest before he slams himself against Taehyung and wraps him up in the warmest, safest hug Taehyung has ever felt. Skin ship and tactile affection is no taboo thing in his household, but for some reason, Jimin’s hug feels very much like he’s come home. Like he’s been wandering for years only to be brought back to comfort by Jimin.

It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Taehyung hugs back just as tight, unfearful of breaking Jimin, but utterly, completely consumed by content happiness that he just needs to share it with his best friend.

Who ever thought he’d end up here? On his last day at school with his best friend Park Jimin .

Letting the moment awash over the both of them like a gentle wave across the golden shore, Taehyung lets out a long sigh and feels his body go boneless in Jimin’s hold.

“For the record,” Jimin mutters right into Taehyung’s shirt. “You’re my best friend too.”

Taehyung’s grip around Jimin tightens.

Eventually the golden afternoon starts to dim in the wake of twilight, the sky bruising above them, urging the both of them to take their next steps.

With a huff, Jimin pulls out of Taehyung’s chest and roughly wipes away the tear streaks across his cheeks. “I came to find you because I wanted you to sign my yearbook,” Jimin says with a shy little smile.

Jimin twists to reach behind him, and Taehyung cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t order one?” he asks, vividly remembering the whole school going about getting their yearbooks signed a few weeks back and Jimin sitting at his desk looking at his hands.

No one wanted Jimin’s signature.

There’s a sad little pinch between Jimin’s brows that disappears as quickly as it came. “I did,” he said. “But there were a few backlog orders that came in a little later,” he lies. They’d clearly hidden it from him or just straight up forgotten to order him one.

Pushing past the horrible taste in the back of his mouth, Taehyung pouts. “I forgot to order one completely, so I don’t have anything for you to sign,” he says, the gasps at a sudden idea. “Sign my boobs like all those idols do for their groupies!”

Jimin scoffs, eyebrows furrowed in affectionate anger. “I’m not signing your boobs, Tae,” he says, lips flinching at the corners as if he’s trying his best not to laugh. “But I will sign your yearbook.”

“I just told you,” Taehyung whines again, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t order one.”

“Then what’s this?” Jimin asks, brandishing two books from behind him, gentle smile on his lips. “When I went looking for you in your classroom this was left on your desk.”

A lump lodges in the back of Taehyung’s throat. “Anju…” he mutters, reaching out for his year

book and running his fingers across the glossy hard cover. He smiles, this is so very Anju . Quietly caring.

“I bet everyone signed it,” says Jimin. “You’re the lie of the party, after all.”

Taehyung scoffs, rubbing a finger across his nose. “Yeah well,” he begins thrusting the book back to Jimin. “Yours is the only signature I want.”

 There’s a pretty little rouge that blushes across the apples of Jimin’s cheeks and across his nose. It has Taehyung’s heart twisting in his chest. “A-actually,” Jimin begins, smile shy. “I already signed it.”

“You did!” Taehyung exclaims excitedly, eyes sparkling.

Jimin nods. “I signed it when I found it,” he explains. “You can read it if you want?”

But Taehyung just shakes his head. “I’ll read it later.”

There’s another sad pinch to Jimin’s brow again, but this time it doesn’t disappear. “You sure? It might be nice to read everyone’s comments, just as a last goodbye?”

Again, Taehyung shakes his head. “I want to wait,” he explains. “Wait until I’ve left.”

“Won’t that be too late?” Jimin asks.

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Right now, I think I’m ready to move on from this place and I think reading through everyone’s messages might hinder me,” he scoffs. “I feel like I’m pulling words from a self-help book.”

“No, no,” Jimin is quick to placate. “It makes sense. You’ve been quietly dealing with leaving for weeks now, would be a shame to take three steps back.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung agrees.

There’s silence between them again.

Taehyung hates the silence.

“S-so,” Jimin’s voice breaks on a whisper. “You’re ready to move on?”

For all the memories Taehyung has made here and is sad to leave behind. For all the scared, nervous feelings twisting through his gut at the prospect of moving onto the next chapter of his life, Taehyung thinks he’s ready to leave.

It’s bittersweet, saying goodbye to all he’s come to know. This school, this town, these 19 years, has made him.

But a college in Seoul and a shitty little apartment in Hongdae with Jimin is calling to him, and Taehyung is calling to him.

It’s time to make new memories.

It’s time to move on.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m ready to move on to Seoul with you, Jiminie.” He beams so brilliantly and so brightly at his best friend that the sight must render Jimin speechless as his eyes blow wide for just a moment.

He returns Taehyung’s smile, little crooked front teeth just visible between his peachy lips. “Sign my yearbook you sap,” he says, shoving the heavy duty book against Taehyung’s chest.

It knocks the wind from Taehyung’s lungs, and he lets a long wheezed breath hiss through his teeth. “Is this any way to treat your best friend?” he whines dramatically.

Jimin just rolls his eyes. “Get on with it,” he demands. “We’ve got a lot of packing to do.”

“Fine, fine fine,” Taehyung placates, grabbing a pen from Jimin’s pocket.

There are many things that Taehyung wants to write. So many words he wants to share with his best friend, thoughts that have been muddling through his head over the last few months together.

But Taehyung thinks that sometimes less is more.

Thank you for being you.