I first saw him December 31st, 2013.

Of course, I had no idea who he was, and the last thing that I was going to do was introduce myself—especially at a party like that. I can’t say that I’ve always been a huge fan of parties—in fact, most of the time, I do my very best to avoid them. Even before the accident, I never liked the loud pulsing music, the strobe lights, or the alcohol—well, the alcohol itself wasn’t so bad, but the effect that it had on the partiers was nothing short of irritating. But, Hoseok had guilt-tripped me into going, claiming that not only was it New Years’ but as of midnight, it would be exactly a year since I had begun to keep records and journals, and that this would be something interesting for the records. He hadn’t had any alcohol—he wasn’t legal. Sure, that’s never stopped anyone before, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to stop Hoseok, but he had a bottle of PowerAde in his hand, and he was enjoying that just as great.

I first noticed him because of the prank. Soon after we had arrived, the host of the party—some stuck up, rich kid by the name of Jaehyo—came down the stairs as though he was the king of the world. Sure, his parents may have practically owned the large lodge at which the event was taking place, but he still s like any other human being, so why should we treat him any different? Anyway, after this long introduction, he went outside, in the back, with a couple guys—though, if you ask me, he was flirting more than hanging out with them, if you know what I’m sayin’.

It wasn’t long before we heard this girly scream, and everyone ran out to see what was the matter. There was Jaehyo, drenched from head-to-toe. His expensive clothing was ruined, stained a shade of pink that matched the punch that everyone had been nursing earlier, and his dark hair was matted to his face, dripping and covering his eyes. Though, even with his face half-covered, you could tell he was pissed off. Then, one of the guys he had been flirting with pointed up towards the second floor window. We all looked up and that’s when I saw him again. He was holding the punch bowl, overturned to allow any remaining liquid to fall, a wickedly amused grin on his face. The crowd was quiet for a moment, awaiting the reaction between the host and the prankster, when suddenly the latter spoke, “Sorry, hyung,” he called, his voice already trembling from oncoming laughter. “I saw you and Minhyuk hyung, and I thought you could use some cooling down.” The line was dumb, oh God was it dumb, but he still burst into laughter, cackling wildly and pointing in Jaehyo’s direction. “Happy New Year!” he screeched before disappearing, Jaehyo chasing after him seconds later.

The scene was comical, to say the least, and after the chase—resembling a scene from an animated child’s show—continued, everyone seemed to feel free enough to laugh about it. Some people were mildly upset with him, while others believed that Jaehyo had deserved it, not only for being so stuck up in the first place, but also for flirting with every thing that breathed. That had been the ultimate entertainment for the night, and even the drunken karaoke party—one that Hoseok had actually participated in, God help me—couldn’t top it. I didn’t see him again that night, but when we all gathered outside, counting down and watching the fireworks that were being shot off in the distance, for some reason, I heard his voice—that annoying cackle, followed by a bright, “Happy New Year!”

For once it actually seemed like it would be.

-

The beginning of 2014 was far from exciting. It was going to be my last year in university—if things went as they were planned—and Hoseok kept ing and whining about how much he would miss me, and how I would have to show up for lunch every day after I left. I told him that he was being stupid, and that he had Taehyung for that. He just blushed.

.

My teachers seemed to be split into two categories: those that pitied me after hearing of my condition, and those that came down on me because of it.

Couldn’t really tell which I hated more.

The teachers that oozed sympathy were handy when it came to a late assignment. If I hadn’t done it, or if I simply didn’t want to, I would go up to their desk obediently, and when they’d ask for my paper, I’d put on the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could muster—I learned that from Taehyung. I’d put my hand on my head and look as though I was about to cry, then, in a tiny voice, I’d manage a, “I forgot.”

You could literally see the heartbreak on their expressions as they rose to comfort me, telling me that it wasn’t necessary and they’d find an easy in-class project for me to do to make up for it. I know.

I’m goin’ to hell.

There were other teachers that took a look at this, and you could see the pain in their eyes, but they thought that it would be best to push me as far as they could—without getting sued by my parents if I passed out because I was working on another research assignment. That happened once. My mom was out for blood.

“Your illness should make you strive to do better, Yoongi,” one of my teachers told me once. I nodded sincerely, and I believed him for a moment. I did want to do better, I really did. But sometimes, it was hard.

For instance, the art show.

Yeah, that should say a lot right there. You see, literally two weeks before the accident, I submitted this art piece. I had just been fiddling around with some paints and when I was over at my mom’s. As soon as she saw it, she suggested that I submit it to the art department at the university. I don’t know why, I really hadn’t done anything artistic other than a few sketches and, what you could call, abstract paintings, just for fun. Anyway, the head of the department actually liked it so much that he featured it in the university gallery.

I had him questioning me as to why I wasn’t majoring in art, and that it wasn’t to late to switch over. There for a long while, I considered it, because hey—why not? If I could create one thing that was that beautiful—erm, I mean cool—then wouldn’t it be fun to produce more?

When I first came back to school, after I was released from the hospital, I saw the art director.

The look he gave me almost had my heart breaking.

-

The next time I saw him was that afternoon. I had let Hoseok go off to Taehyung’s, and I went to the park. I sat on one of the benches and just… watched. Everything—the kids, the adults, the leaves on the trees, the couples. I wanted to take everything in. It was so beautiful, and the very thought of being unable to see it again had my head spinning.

I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t want this.

I wanted to wake up again, and have Hoseok laughing at me, telling me that it was all a dream.

The accident.

Everything.

That’s when I saw him. He was over by the playground, sitting up on the set of monkey bars and swinging his legs. There was a young boy, probably about five, on the ground, jumping up in attempts to reach his feet. The boy looked frustrated, but he looked amused, stretching his feet closer to the eager hands, only to lift them away.

I don’t know what possessed me to walk over there.

The next few moments kinda went by in a blur. I remember crossing the walkway, and suddenly I heard someone yell for me to watch out. Don’t laugh, but when I turned, I noticed a ton of bikers racing towards me. They were in that huge group, and I knew that nothing was going to get them to slow down. Sure, I know I’m dumb, but I was a little freaked out. It’s not every day that you’re almost flattened by a bunch of bicycles.

I have no idea how he got over there so fast.

Suddenly, I was on the ground, and when I looked up, I saw him staring at me. His eyes were wide, and his lips were parted in concern, soft pants leaving them.

“Holy , are you okay?” was what he asked, and I could tell from the tone in his voice, he was genuinely concerned.

I opened and closed my mouth for a minute, probably looking ridiculously dumb, and like a fish out of water, and he took my speechless state as a sign of an injury. He began to ask if I needed to go to the hospital, or if I needed to be carried somewhere. The concerned inquiries spilled from his perfect lips like a waterfall, and finally, he had to pause to take a breath.

I took this moment to take in his features, from his round, childlike face, puffy, flushed cheeks, to his sparkling eyes.

Kid was beautiful.

I was almost jealous.

Anyway, me being the brilliant person that I am, I finally managed a couple of words. “I”m Yoongi.”

Yeah. Not, ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘thanks for saving me from a demise via bike wheels’, but my lame name. Like I was going to ask for his number next. Instead of scoffing and leaving in a huff, like I expected, he grinned, and I thought that my heart was going to explode. After helping me up, he laughed, and my face was as hot as a forest fire.

“I’m Jimin.”