Jimin sat through the whole day silent, brooding, scribbling angrily in his little notebook as the teacher continued to assign schoolwork. He wasn’t in the mood, and as he picked up a worksheet, he felt tears prick his eyes.

                When’s the bell going to ring? Jimin thought to himself.

                Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the bell rang, and Jimin lept out of chair, packed his books into his bag, and rushed out of the door. The clouds had covered the sun, casting a gloomy shadow over the school. Jimin ran, shameful tears streaming down his cheeks. He wanted to get away from this horrible place that caused him so much suffering.

                He opened the door with the spare set of keys that his mom had given him, slammed the door shut, and hurled himself up the stairs. He plummeted, face first, into the heap of blankets, and screamed and cried. It hurt him so much that people were so mean and uncaring and so stupid. He grabbed tiny fists of fabric in his hands. He paused for a second, raising his head and turning to see his mom standing in the doorway.

                “What happened, Jimin?” she asked, walking towards him and taking him into her arms. “Tell me what happened at school, Mom will make you feel better.”

                Jimin nuzzled himself into the crook of his mother’s neck, taking in the scent of light flowery perfume. “There were people at school who said that guys can’t like each other, and then the teacher yelled at Minjoon and I, and I got really mad and upset,” Jimin said, his voice quivering.

                Jimin’s mom gently the hair on the top of Jimin’s head. “Jimin, some people don’t understand what you might have been doing, and some people don’t like it when you don’t fit in. Most boys like other girls, so when they see a boy liking another boy, they’ll think it’s really weird because it isn’t what life should be like.”

                “But, Mom, one of the boys said that if you like another boy, you should be put in jail. Is that true?” Jimin asked, looking up from his mom’s shoulder with red, puffy eyes.

                His mom’s eyes squinted together, her lips pursing into a straight line. She brought her hands up and placed them onto his shoulders. “Jimin, some kids have parents who really don’t like people who are different. For me, I don’t care who you like, as long as you are happy. If the kids are bothering you, make sure to tell me and I’ll talk to the teacher.”

                Jimin nodded, bobbing his head. “I’m going to go wash my face,” Jimin declared, jumping off his mom’s lap and walking towards the washroom.

-----

                The next day was Tuesday, and Jimin wasn’t ready to go to school. And his mom respected that. “If you want some time to think it over, by all means, I’ll let you stay at home,” she said, as Jimin laid in bed, looking out his window at the overcast sky.

                Jimin burrowed deeper into the blankets, wrapping himself in a makeshift cocoon. He didn’t want to go to school. He was scared, terrified, and he could hear the laughter and mean remarks of the other children if he were to step into the classroom. He wanted to stay in his house forever.

                His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Three consecutive rings, loud and clear, came from downstairs. Jimin jumped out of bed, grabbed his little teddy bear, and ran down the stairs, pausing at the bottom. He faced the door, wondering whether or not he should open it or not. But, curiosity got the better of him and he rushed forward and opened the door.

                “Hi,” Minjoon said.

                Jimin gasped. “Hey Minjoon! Come in! Oh, no! I’m wearing my pyjamas! Wait! I’ll go change, and you wait here. Lock the door behind you!” Jimin exclaimed, hurriedly clambering up the stairs to change.

                When Jimin returned, Minjoon was sitting around the dining table, nursing a warm cup of milk in his hands. He quickly looked up and waved, a small smile adorning his face. Jimin walked towards him, surprised. The initial shock of Minjoon seeing him in his pyjamas had dissipated, and now he was confused. He tilted his head to one side, eying Minjoon with his eyes squinting.

                “Why are you here?” Jimin asked, his voice small, sitting down across from Minjoon and thanking his mom as she handed him a cup of milk.

                “Mom told me that it’s best if I don’t go to school today. I think it’s great,” Minjoon replied, his eyes forming little crescents as he raised his cup to his lips and took a small sip of milk.

                Jimin’s mom came from behind and patted Jimin on the head. “I’m actually going to go out for a moment, so you and Minjoon can play a little bit until I get back,” she said, taking her purse in hand and adjusting her jacket. “Call me if you have any troubles!” she said as she closed the door. The house plunged into silence.

                “So, did your mom make you come here?” Jimin asked, emptying his glass and placing it onto the table.

                “No,” Minjoon replied, similarly placing his own empty glass onto the table. “I wanted to talk and play, and there’s no one my age at home to play with anyway, so I thought I would come here. Anyways, thank you for helping me out yesterday,” he said, his tongue flicking out between his pink lips to lap up a milk moustache that had formed.

                “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad yesterday,” Jimin said. “If I had known that they were going to be mean to us, then I wouldn’t have said it.”

                Minjoon looked at him, frowning slightly and scrunching his nose up. “Nobody would’ve known that. That stupid boy doesn’t know anything. We can be friends for as long as possible, and I wouldn’t care about what those dumb people say,” he retorted.

                Jimin smiled, and asked, “Do you want to come to my room? I have lots of cool stuff up there.”

                Minjoon nodded, and Jimin led him upstairs. The sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and the sunshine filled his room with a warm yellow tint. The curtains were drawn back, and the bed was messy beyond belief, and on top of that, his blue striped pyjamas were strewn on the mattress in Jimin’s hurry to change. Jimin stood by the doorway as Minjoon entered his room, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

                “Sorry, it’s a bit messy. I didn’t know you were coming,” Jimin mumbled, eyes on the floor.

                “It’s ok, my room’s pretty much the same. Hey, I can see my house out your window!” Minjoon suddenly exclaimed, pressing his palms against the window glass.

                Jimin smiled. It was nice to have a friend who was like Minjoon. Small, excitable, always on the move, maybe a tad bit shy. Yup, Jimin was glad that Minjoon had moved over.

                “Do you have any music? I like to dance, and I was wondering if you had any music for me to dance to,” Minjoon said.

                “No, I don’t, sorry. But you can still show me!” Jimin said, jumping up and down in joy. He had never seen people dance before.

                Minjoon walked to the center of the room, poised gracefully. For someone with such a small body, he had the grace of a professional dancer. When he moved, everything seemed to stop. His body made his way across the room, drawing artistic lines, his feet delicately touching the ground. Everything he did was fluid, like water.

                When Minjoon stopped, he turned to look at Jimin and giggled. Jimin’s mouth hung wide open in a stunned O shape.

                “That was amazing,” Jimin said.

                “Yeah? It felt pretty amazing, too,” Minjoon replied.