As he walked through the backyard, Yoongi felt overwhelmed; he’d never seen so many children before, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Usually he’d stay by his mother’s side, but after finding the envelope on the table, he knew he had to find the person it belonged to.

Kim Taehyung.

Why the boy had to use a purple pen was beyond Yoongi, but it fitted well with the boy he had seen at the dining-room table; as well as the messy writing. He shook his head softly, smirking to himself as he ran over the events that had happened in the last 30 minutes.

Yoongi found a spot near the edge of the backyard, and lent back against the fencing, one foot propped up behind him against the wood. He scanned the yard, trying to focus on the faces of each child as his eyes passed them; he’d spent so long staring at the faces of adults, he wasn’t used to seeing such rounded and soft features. He felt the sudden urge to pinch their cheeks, but quickly shook it off as he continued scanning the crowd.

11…12…13…14...15…16…17… wait…

The 18th child was nowhere to be seen. Yoongi recounted, thinking he’d somehow miscalculated, but he got to 17 once more. Before he could figure out who it was, another lady from behind the barbeque grill shouted for the children to get in 2 lines; one for hot dogs and one for burgers. Yoongi decided on the burger; he was very rarely allowed to have burgers, as the staff at home were told to cook healthy and nutritious meals. As he joined the burger line, his mother came out as well, smiling from ear to ear at each child as she walked past to join Yoongi’s side.

“Having a burger, sweetheart?” Yoongi only nodded in reply, aware of all the eyes focusing on him and his mother. She smiled at him before nodding as well, “me too.” His eyes opened wide, and his mouth gaped slightly as he stared at his mother; the woman who was adamant on the nutritious values of avocados and pasta, and wouldn’t be caught dead with a burger. She winked at him, “don’t tell your father,” and Yoongi laughed softly.

As the line got shorter, with some children even asking if Yoongi and Mrs Min wanted to go ahead of them – which they refused politely, stunned by the selflessness of the children despite their circumstances – one small child silently filed at the back of the hotdog line. With as much subtlety as he could manage, Yoongi looked at the child to see who it was; he already knew in the back of his head that the 18th child was the one he’d b