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Yoongi took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He should have known better than to be playing basketball so recklessly, but he was eight for Christ’s sake and at the moment, it was his dream to become a professional basketball player. He practiced every day at the nearby park, no matter how intimidating the older thirteen year olds who dominated the basketball courts seemed to be. They left him alone and occasionally when one of their own was missing, they’d invite him to join them for a few games.
It was on one of these days that Yoongi had been kicked in the ankle by one of the bigger guys and been knocked flat on his butt. He was certain that the flaring, excruciating pain in his ankle was the result of it being broken. Though as an eight year old who didn’t know much about pain, injuries, or the world, his ankle was most likely just sprained or twisted instead.
The older boys hadn’t even spared him another glance after the two eldest had lifted him from the blacktop and carried him over to the grass where they sat him down before returning to their game. Yoongi was trying hard not to cry. He tried to control his breathing, but nothing was working. He could feel the hot, scalding tears in his eyes begin to roll down his plump cheeks. The pain in his ankle was too much for his eight year old body to bear. All he wanted now was to get home as soon as he possibly could.
When he tried to stand, Yoongi stumbled a few steps forward before he fell again, the pain in his foot keeping him from walking far. He breathed in a deep, lungful of air and braced himself for the pain of standing up again. He got farther the second time, but the hot pain in his ankle flared up his leg again and he fell face first into the grass once more.
He stayed there then, only turning to sit on his bottom instead of laying on his stomach and glared at his foot that was red and swollen, jammed into his sneaker. His usual pale skin contrasted against the bright red of his ankle as scalding hot, angry tears rolled down his pale face. Yoongi sat and glared at his foot, hating the fact that he was crying at the park, the place where he went to escape from his mom’s constant nagging of cleaning his room and doing his chores, the place where he ruled over the basketball court and had the other younger kids stare at him in awe. He shouldn’t cry here, but he couldn’t help it.
“Why are you crying?”
Yoongi looked up to find a small, younger boy with black hair, doe eyes, and bunny-like features staring down at him with an Iron Man figurine in his hands. He’d seen this boy before. He was one of his many, younger admirers that would stare at him from the safety of the sandbox where their mothers doted on their every need. There was a spot of dirt on his chin and he didn’t look much older than five, but all Yoongi could do was stare and silently cry while the bunny boy stood before him.
“Are you hurt?”
Yoongi said nothing and continued to cry.
“Why does your foot look like that?”
“It’s broken,” Yoongi murmured, his voice frail and ankle burning.
The boy’s eyes widened and he quickly dropped to his knees to inspect Yoongi’s foot more closely. “Broken? How? Does it hurt?”
“I was playing basketball with one of the older boys and one of them kicked me. It hurts a lot,” Yoongi sniffled.
Bunny Boy looked back at the basketball courts where the older boys were finishing up their game of basketball. His gaze came back to Yoongi when he began to cry again.
“I just want to go home,” Yoongi sobbed.
“I can ask my mommy to take you home. She’s over at the playground watching my hyung play on the swings,” the boy whispered looking up at Yoongi with big, round eyes. “We just need to go over there and tell her.”
“But I can’t walk. My ankle is broken,” Yoongi wailed.
“Whenever I’m hurt, my mommy kisses my ouchies and then I feel all better,” the boy said, his voice as serious as he could make it sound. “Do you want me to kiss your ouchie and make it all better?”
“That doesn’t work! Kisses don’t make everything better!” Yoongi cried, his eight year old mentality easily finding the fault in the younger boy’s thinking.
The boy gripped onto his Iron Man figurine tightly and scooted closer to Yoongi. “Kisses make everything better. Here, let me show you.”
Yoongi prepared himself for the certain pain the boy was about to bring him when he tried to kiss his swollen ankle, but instead of receiving a kiss on his leg, Yoongi got one on his cheek.
The boy leaned back and stood up, offering Yoongi a hand. Yoongi stared up at him speechless, not having expected for a boy to ever kiss him. The longer Yoongi stared, the more flustered the boy appeared to be. He blinked slowly and took the hand that the boy offered.
“My name is Jeon Jeongguk,” the boy murmured as he helped Yoongi slowly stand up.
Yoongi wobbled when he stood, but the hot, flaring pain in his ankle wasn’t as bad as before. He took a step, stumbled, but was steadied by the firm, small hands of Jeon Jeongguk on his waist. Yoongi leaned on Jeongguk and allowed the young, bunny-looking boy to lead him towards the playground where Jeongguk’s mother would take him home.
They continued to stumble towards the playground that seemed miles away and with each step, eight year old Yoongi realized that his swollen ankle hurt less and less. Maybe Jeongguk had been right.
Maybe kisses did make everything better.