A/N: A little background story...

J-Hope's POV:

"Hoseok-ah, I'd like you to meet someone," my father announced.

"Appa, I'm busy right now." I stared at the screen, trying to follow along with the performance.

"Jung Hoseok."

I sighed and turned around.

"Annyeonghaseyo, Hoseok oppa. Jinhee-ibnida," the little girl next to my dad greeted me solemnly. She had long, dark brown hair and the biggest eyes I'd ever seen on an Asian person, or maybe any person. On second glance, however, she didn't look fully Korean.

"Son, this is Park Jinhee," my dad said. "She'll be four grades below you in school. Her father is a good friend of mine. Take care of her, araji?"

And so, Park Jinhee became a part of my life.

I'd always wanted a little sister, but this wasn't how I'd imagined getting one. Jinhee followed me around everywhere. Somehow, she always managed to find me between classes and during lunch. My friends would tease me about the little shadow I had stuck to me. It bothered me, but I tried not to show it. Jinhee deserved some stability in her life, which I only realized after my dad sat me down one day and explained.

Park Jinhee was an only child of a Korean father and a Hong Kong-born French-Canadian-Chinese mother. The two had married a year before my parents did, but it took them far longer to conceive. Jinhee's birth was a particularly difficult one. Her mother's mental and physical health never recovered, so she had been confined to the house ever since.

Mrs. Park often forgot or skipped large periods of time, so Jinhee had a lot more birthdays than was warranted. Mr. Park, who loved his wife beyond what words could describe, went along with all her strange behavior, so that Jinhee, when she came into my life, no longer knew exactly how old she was. Her father, my father, and I were the only ones who knew, but we never spoke of her age for fear of triggering another of her mother's episodes.

Over time, Jinhee's age became irrelevant. She was much wiser than her years. Sometimes, it felt as if she was older than I was- especially when she helped me with my homework, or made me eat my vegetables. She became my moral compass, stopping me when my boisterous behavior crossed the line. I called her Genie, because somehow she was always able to help.

I was only thirteen when one day, she disappeared from my side. I never saw her again.

She was extra in my life, but when she left, I found out I needed her.