Jimin walked out of the classroom and headed to his locker, which was conveniently tucked away in a small corner near the library. He went to open the locker when a familiar person walked past him, hands tucked into his pockets.

                “Hey, kid. I didn’t get your name yet,” Yoongi called out, raising his hand in a mock salute.

                “My name’s Jimin,” he said quietly.

                Yoongi nodded in response, pulling his phone out. “Listen, if those guys are giving you a hard time, you can shoot me a text and I’ll help you out.”

                Jimin’s cheeks flushed as he exchanged phone numbers with the older boy. He took a peek at Yoongi’s phone, and he jumped back, startled, when it started to buzz. The screen read, “Namjoon, the God of Destruction”.

                “Jesus, that idiot can’t help but call me,” Yoongi grumbled, excusing himself and picking up the phone. “Namjoon, I’m in the middle of something. What did you do this time? Ok, whatever, get your to class.” Yoongi hung up, his face peeved.

                “That was my smart, yet unbelievably unbearable, boyfriend, Namjoon. If you’re lucky, you might get to see him one day,” Yoongi explained.

                Jimin’s ears perked up. He was sure he heard Yoongi right, and he stared down at his twiddling thumbs as he asked, “So, are you saying that you’re gay?”

                Yoongi looked at him, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Hell yeah I’m gay, and I’m proud of it. Nothing to be ashamed of, and I made all of those haters regret it anyway. You should be glad you can find something worth loving in someone of the same gender.”

                Jimin looked away, his cheeks turning even redder than before. Yoongi noticed this and laughed. “If you want to get to class on time, I advise you to hurry up,” he said and turned away, disappearing into the throng of students.

------

                The rest of the day went without any hitches. It seemed like Yoongi’s predatory reprimands had kept the bullies at bay, but Jimin couldn’t help the fact that he was bumping into Yoongi in some of the weirdest places. (Don’t ask about the time when they were in the washroom together because Jimin swore that the temperature rose by just a couple of degrees when the older boy walked in and went to a urinal just two spaces down from where Jimin was.)

                The final bell rang, signalling his freedom, and Jimin rushed to his locker. He packed his notebooks and binders and hoisted his bag back onto his shoulders when someone bumped into him.

                “Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the stranger said. He was tall, and when he smiled, he got dimples in his cheeks.

                Jimin looked away, his cheeks burning up. “It’s fine,” he said quietly, turning to walk out the door.

                “Wait, are you that kid Yoongi was talking about? What’s your name? Jimin?” the stranger asked, striding towards him.

                Jimin shied away, looking back to see the other boy standing behind him. Who was this mystery person? “Are you a friend of Yoongi’s?” he asked.

                Before the stranger could reply, Yoongi appeared behind him. The size difference was ridiculous. The stranger was at least a head taller than Yoongi, but when Yoongi shot him an accusatory glance, he gave the short boy a sheepish grin. Damn, his dimple game was on point.

                “Jimin, this clumsy idiot here is my boyfriend, Namjoon. He’s in tenth grade, so he’s two years older than you. Namjoon, this is Jimin,” Yoongi said.

                Jimin remembered Yoongi mentioning Namjoon in the morning, but he had never expected someone so short to be in love with someone so tall. Namjoon looked down at Yoongi, leaned down, and bopped noses with him. Yoongi pulled away, nose turning up in disgust, his lips curving down into a slight frown.

                “Namjoon, save that for the bedroom, ok? We’ve got to do in our studio. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, kid?” Yoongi said, taking Namjoon’s hand and pulling away his protesting boyfriend.

                Jimin waved goodbye. He looked outside at the school’s large courtyard, and he thought back to the days when he and Minjoon would sit on the benches in front of the school playground and make flower crowns and rings for each other. A sudden stinging feeling pricked his eyes as he reminisced about his childhood.

                He picked himself back together and walked outside, the crisp autumn air pulling him it towards the familiarity of home.

-----

                Jimin looked down at his phone. Minjoon had just sent him a video of him dancing at his school in front of an auditorium full of students. He watched the whole video, and then replayed it over and over again, all the while thinking about what Yoongi had told him in the morning.

                A little voice in his head said, “Go dance. Be like Minjoon and send him fun videos.” Jimin jumped off of his bed and ran downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen making dinner. She turned around to find his son, red-faced, eyes glittering with determination, and smiled.

                “Jimin, what’s the matter?” she asked.

                “Mom, I want to learn how to dance.”

-----

                The first dance lesson was always the hardest. He was naturally flexible – his mom told him so when recalling the days when Jimin would tumble around his crib like a ball of fluff. But Jimin found it hard to control his body movements and to bend his body in the right way. When the class gathered to do stretches, the children all gathered together, but Jimin stayed on the sidelines, stretching by himself.

                When the teacher, a tall lady by the name Ms. Lee, called them over to start their first lesson in contemporary dance, Jimin walked slowly to the growing circle of students and situated himself near the mirror.

                “Today, we will be learning the basic positions of our feet as well as increasing our flexibility for routines,” Ms. Lee explained. “Now, everybody, watch my feet. This is first position.”

                Ms. Lee had students come in front of the mirror five at a time to practice the positions, pointing out mistakes that students were making and congratulating those for getting it correct. Jimin stood off to the side, watching the students stumble with their footwork. When the teacher called him up along with other children, he came up to the mirror and placed his feet into first position, just like how Minjoon did in some of his videos.

                “Good job Jimin! You’re nailing the positions so far!” Ms. Lee said, clapping her hands together. The other students looked at him with contempt, but Jimin smiled with relief.

                Maybe dancing wasn’t so hard and scary after all.