His face is akin to a tomato when he clumsily excuses himself to take the call. He’s only got four people in his contact list, two of whom are his parents. So for someone new to call him is completely unheard of; Taehyung isn’t the type to do anything beyond sending him selfies, either.

                 “H-Hello?” he stammers into the receiver once he’s alone in the hall. Hopefully it’s not another one of those shady telemarketer guys who keep trying to sell him life insurance (‘I have no life,’ he’d bemoan and then hang up).

                 A low voice answers and his heart thuds harder because he still doesn’t know who it is. “Hey. Uh, are you free at lunch today?” The male asks, and Jimin has half a mind to hang up. Why would anyone invite him out to lunch? It must be a prank.

                 “… Y-Yes…?” he says, his tone wavering as much as his thoughts.

                 “Meet me by the front doors at the beginning of the period.”

                 Jimin panics; it sounds like a threat, and it probably is. He racks his brain for any offense he might’ve unintentionally made from the past three years. There’s nothing he could have possibly done to bring it down to this. Well, maybe except for that time he stepped on a girl’s dress while she was tying her shoe in seventh grade, but even then he apologized profusely and dusted it off. He isn’t a criminal.

                  Jimin hangs up.

                 Not knowing what to do with himself, he opens his chat with Taehyung and quickly types up a message of distress. ‘Help some guy called me out to lunch and idk who it is’ he writes, completely forgoing the emojis in light of his anxiety.

                 A reply comes quick, which is odd because they’re both technically in class. ‘Well did u ask’ is what Taehyung says, and Jimin wonders why his friend chooses this one time to be incredibly smart. He should’ve asked instead of hanging up like a wimp.

                 Sure enough, the unknown caller calls back. He answers with another meek ‘hello’ and ‘I-I’m sorry, who is this?’

                 The guy on the line laughs. “Oh , sorry. It’s Min Yoongi.”

                 A whole slew of thoughts run though Jimin’s mind at that second, the first of them being where the hell did he get my number?! He imagines several scenarios where the older boy is standing in some dark alleyway with some other dudes and instead of giving away crack or something, Yoongi is dealt his phone number on a slip of paper that reeks of smokes. Or maybe he’s actually a top-secret undercover agent working for the North and is out to get him. Or maybe—!

                 “I’m in Yearbook. We know everything.”

--

                 He’s still slightly threatened because even though it’s just Yoongi inviting him out to lunch, it’s Yoongi. They haven’t talked since Extracurricular Week, and he’s not sure what more the older boy wants from him. He goes to the front doors anyway, baring the pre-autumn wind as he waits outside.

                 After about a minute of pressing himself against the stone wall of the school, an arm hooks itself around his neck and starts dragging him off somewhere. He looks up to see the usual stoic face of Min Yoongi (is that a new snapback?). “W-Where are we going?”

                 “You’ll see,” he says, looking both ways so they can cross the street. Jimin is suddenly very frightened; what if he’s hauled to some place potentially dangerous? What if he’s shoved into the back of a suspicious white van? What if he’s shipped to Poland? Oh god, Poland.

                 The senior student lets go of him, continuing to walk a step ahead. He doesn’t look back. Instead, he trusts the younger to follow his lead and despite all his fears, Jimin modestly trails behind.

                 It’s a short walk down the road, past some neighborhood houses. They make it to the local plaza before he can clearly read the button on Yoongi’s backpack (it says something like ‘I’m so good at sleeping I can do it with my eyes closed’). Walking past the day spa, pizza parlor, and convenience store, they stop at a tea house.

                 Jimin realizes, after having walked in and reserving a table for two, that Yoongi intends to spend their lunch period here and he’s not sure what to think. It’s a nice little place; he’s been here with Taehyung many times and always greets the kind lady behind the counter. The walls are a bright green color, kind of like the honeydew slush he usually gets. Tables are lined against those walls, and wooden chairs scatter around them. Although it’s the same scene he’s visited before, it feels completely different when he sees it with someone else.

                 He sits, confused and jittery beyond words. Yoongi is seated across from him, playing with his phone. He says absolutely nothing for about three minutes. Then he looks up and asks, “what do you want?”

                 Jimin coughs, “w-what?”

                 “What do you want to drink?” he clarifies.

                 “O-Oh, I’m—I’m fine.”

                 Yoongi narrows his eyes. “I’m offering you free bubble tea. You don’t ing reject free, bubble, tea.” Jimin flinches at every syllable. “Order something before I go ham on you.”

                 He doesn’t even know what it means to ‘go ham’, but Jimin manages to blubber something about chocolate before cowering into his seat. The other boy stands to get their drinks and returns minutes later with two plastic cups. He sets the brown one in front of him while sipping from his own pink drink. Jimin stares.

                 “What?” Yoongi asks, sitting back down. “You got something against strawberries?”

                 He shakes his head, mindlessly fumbling with his straw. “N-No… It’s just that pink isn’t very… characteristic of you, I guess.”

                 “Don’t be so quick to judge,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. The guy stares out the window for a moment of thought. “… And don’t go judging yourself, either.”

                 Jimin watches as he takes his hat off and combs through his bangs. He realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen Yoongi without a snapback, and that he’s got really nice, brown hair hiding under it. He should take it off more often.

                 That was actually really gay, he thinks. So he takes a gulp of tea.

                 The senior speaks again after putting his hat back on. “I heard from that guy—Seokjin—that you skipped out on the dance team audition.”

                 He chokes on a pearl. “U-Uh, yeah…”

                 “Why?”

                 He wants to ask that question too. Why? Why is this guy suddenly so concerned? Why is he acting like he cares, even though they barely know each other? Did he call him out here just to consult him? They’ve talked about three times prior and now here they are, confronting Jimin’s insecurities. Why?

                 “… I don’t know,” he answers lamely. Sitting in his chair suddenly becomes uncomfortable, and he decides to bolt the next chance he gets.

                 But Yoongi’s eyes are trained on him, rendering him unable to move. “I know,” he says, making Jimin stiffen. “You’re not just camera-shy. You’re incredibly self-conscious too, aren’t you?” He sounds like he expects an answer. Jimin doesn’t know what to give him, and instead stares at the table. There are two dots on it. “People aren’t born like you. Did… something happen?”

                 “… I just…” He searches desperately for an excuse, a way out. If he couldn’t physically move, then words will save him as much as a door would. “I don’t want people to look at me. I don’t want them to look at me, and makes jokes on my behalf. I don’t want to be made fun of.” He nervously shifts his drink from side-to-side. There was another dot under it.

                 “What makes you think people are going to do that?”

                 Jimin sighs, “Because it’s happened before. I couldn’t control it, and… it exploded.”

                 “People made fun of you online?”

                 “… Yeah…” He looks up, wary. “How did you know that?”

                 Yoongi glances aside and picks up a menu. “It’s an issue. Cyberbullying.”

                 Instinctively, Jimin nods. The memories flash at the back of his eyes like passing headlights, and following shortly after them is a slight headache. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

                 And yet there’s something about Yoongi that propels words out of his throat. Perhaps it’s the way he’s reclined in his seat, both hands tucked into his pockets or his placid expression; a face that’s short of any judgment whatsoever.

                 He doesn’t say anything, and Jimin realizes it’s because Yoongi is ever so patient for him to speak. This is an entirely new concept; it’s not as if Taehyung never let him talk, but the guy always filled in for empty silences and Jimin is grateful for that. Having someone wait for him to talk specifically feels foreign, and he only knows how to tread lightly.

                 “… S-Someone took a picture of me,” he sighs again. “They photoshopped it into something terrible and posted it onto Facebook. From there, it just kind of escalated... Some people knew it was fake, but apparently the editing was good, and so many more fell for it. By the time I found out, it was everywhere and I became a joke. I-I couldn’t go to school… at least, not for a couple months. I-I don’t know, I don’t remember much. It’s just a weak spot for me…”

                 Almost instantaneously, he wishes he didn’t say anything. He’s not even sure if Yoongi’s still there because he hasn’t bothered to look up. He feels pathetic. He always tells himself to talk about his problems and yet, it always ends up with regret. Maybe he should just roll into a corner and shut up forever.

                 “… I really need to pee,” Yoongi says suddenly, and Jimin can’t help but glare at him. “What? I finished my drink while you were talking and now I need to pee. That’s how it works.”

                 He drops his head into his arms. “Just forget it…”

                 “Or,” the older boy cuts in. “You shouldn’t let something so trivial take over your entire life.”

                 Jimin doesn’t say anything.

                 “In middle school, I was such an idiot. Like, I actually didn’t care about anything. I know it’s not the same, but—”

                 “Then why do you ing care?!” he shouts. The shop is empty save for one or two people; he can scream all he wants. “Do you know why I’m letting it take over my life?! Because it almost took away my life, okay? Twice. I-I tried to kill myself twice. A-Alright? You don’t k-know how it was for me.” His hands are in tight fists, and he feels his nails digging into his skin but he doesn’t give a . He’s irritated. Why did he spill out his life story to someone who doesn’t care? Why did he cut himself open in front of a stranger?

                 Yoongi slams a fist onto the table as well.  “Well, I’m sorry. But I hate to see a guy put himself so low that he can see the gum under my goddamn shoe! Look, we’ve all established that the idiot who made that first post is a piece of . Deserves hell. But if you want to beat yourself over something that you had no control over, then fine. Everyone’s moved on already. They scrolled past it years ago and never thought about it again, and you shouldn’t either. But you’re the only one who’s bringing it up. You’re the only one who’s stuck in the past, and it’s not a nice place to be.”

                 He’s not wrong; no one has mentioned it. It’s probably because Jimin himself lived in seclusion after the incident, letting it die down and letting everyone forget him. By the time they started high school, he was basically a total stranger to people he’s seen since kindergarten. Nobody knew him.

                 He erased it all. Nobody knew who he was, or anything regarding the incident. There is absolutely no proof of it ever existing, and yet it still lives on in Jimin’s mind. It haunts him every day, and more than anything he wants it to stop. He does want to be more confident, more outgoing… more like Taehyung. He just doesn’t know where to begin.

                 He hasn’t made proper friends in years. How is he supposed to approach people? Who can he trust? What if they think he’d a bit on the odd side? How is he to maintain these potential friendships? Staying in touch with Taehyung was easy enough, because the guy was incredibly persistent. He can’t say the same for anyone else.

                 With so many thoughts bouncing around in his head, Jimin breaks down and on his own accord, opens up.

                 “… Whoa! Why are you crying…?” Yoongi’s features soften when he sees those tears roll down his face and hitting the table. He’s not sure why he’s crying himself, and it surprises him when a tissue dabs at his face. He blinks up at the older boy’s face of concern. “You’re ing weird.”

                 “… I-I really want to change,” he sniffles. “I really do… but I’m just… me.”

                 “Who the hell said you had to do it on your own?” Yoongi also wipes the snot from under his nose. “Your buddy in orange will definitely help you if you asked. And uh, I guess I’m around too. Come by the yearbook room sometime. Or the photography club, on Tuesdays. I’m the vice, if you didn’t know.”

                 Jimin opens his mouth to protest, but he already knows what he’s going to say.

                 “No, no, I’m not going to ask you to pose for anything, nah. It’s just… if you want to talk.”

                 When he stands up later to pay for the drinks, Jimin notices the little pink coupon in Yoongi’s hands. He must’ve used it to pay for Jimin instead of using it on himself. It’s a little thought that warms him right up, even though he inhaled the rest of his drink to make it in time for class.

                 Despite being a little rough around the edges, talking to Min Yoongi put him a better mood for the first time in a really long while. He feels so much lighter, freer. He still has so much to work for, but at least Jimin knows he’s not alone anymore.

                 That fact seems a little more concrete when Yoongi grabs his phone and puts his number in it.