Hoseok glares at the blindingly neon pink box shoved into his arms. “I told you dimwits not to get me anything other than foodstuffs,” he grunts, attempting to return the gift into Taehyung’s hands.

                  “We did.” The other male pushes it back. He gestures to the tray of pink-frosted cupcakes nestled in Jimin’s bosom. “We brought food and decided to buy you something else too. Be grateful, you brat.”

                  “H-Happy birthday,” Jimin adds.

                  Hoseok rolls his eyes and lets them inside. “Thanks, I guess. Some other kid is here already, but you guys know him, so—” He trails off and takes a closer look at his gifts. “Man, I hate pink.”

                  “Why?” Taehyung frowns. “Pink is a nice color.” He starts dancing to a song they vaguely remember being called Hot Pink.

                  “Because every year on my birthday, all I get is discounted stuff leftover from Valentine’s Day and it’s in’ gross,” he lets out a groan. “My ma decided to decorate the living room yesterday and it looks like I’m trying to host date night. But, anyway, come in, you turds.”

                  “We’re already in,” Taehyung retorts, kicking off his shoes. “Who else is here?”

                  Hoseok takes the cupcakes from Jimin’s arms. “Some nerd,” he replies, leading them through his house. He points vaguely towards the general direction of a toilet before walking into the sitting area. There’s love-themed décor stuck to every surface, from random bouquets of roses to assorted bowls of sugary sweets. In the midst of floating, heart-shaped balloons is their schoolmate Sungjae, gnawing on pastel marshmallows.

                  “Shup?” the guy greets, mouth overloaded with pink fluff. “It’sh Taehyung and Jimin!” He starts giggling hysterically because his words are muddled.

                  Hoseok stares at him in distaste. “Why do I even associate with you? Moron,” he sighs and goes off to get more drinks.

                  “Someone’s in a bad mood,” Taehyung whispers, taking a seat on the floor. “What’s up with the birthday boy?”

                  Sungjae spits out his entire load of marshmallows into a tissue. “Dunno. I thought it was because I showed up piss drunk to his party seven hours early, but he’s probably just annoyed with all this pink.”

                  Jimin blinks while sitting on the sofa across from him. “You drink, Sungjae?”

                  “A little,” he says with a grin. “Don’t tell on me.”

                  “A little’ isn’t supposed to get you piss drunk, man.” Taehyung chides him with a light punch to the calf. “Take care of yourself.”

                  Sungjae throws up a pair of jazz hands. “Okay, mom.”

                  They start getting into a rowdy scuffle (which Jimin gawks at warily) until Hoseok returns with an armful of pop cans. He distributes the drinks and slumps into the seat next to Jimin. “Yo…” he starts, lazily pointing to his TV. “Let’s play brawl, kids.”

                  “AW, YES!” Taehyung shouts, barreling towards Hoseok’s gaming console and loads the disc in with ease; he’s too comfortable here. “IT’S GOING DOWNTOWN, MOFOS!”

                  “Is Namjoon coming anytime soon?” Jimin asks, glancing at the birthday boy. “We’d better practice before he comes to cream us again.”

                  Hoseok mutters Namjoon’s name with some degree of sarcasm while pulling his phone out. “I think he texted me—yeah, kid said he’s gonna be late ‘cause he’s busy studying someone.”

                  “What?” Taehyung glances over his shoulder. “But we just had exams.”

                  “Listen, you turd. I said he was studying someone, not something.”

                  The other three boys start staring at him. “He’s studying someone?” Taehyung looks mildly concerned. “Like, stalking?”

                  Hoseok shrugs. “That’s what he texted me. He said he’ll be here in a bit.”

                  Sungjae lets out a scoff. “Namjoon? As in Kim Namjoon, that cyborg freak?” He rolls his eyes. “I always knew he was a creep.”

                  Jimin and Taehyung open their mouths to argue, but it’s Hoseok who responds immediately. “Shut up,” he growls, glaring at Sungjae. “He’s a friend.”

                  The latter flinches at the sudden hostility and looks away. “Alright, dude. Chill.”

                  “HEY, LET’S PLAY!” Taehyung announces, abruptly tossing everyone a remote. Hoseok is still leering at Sungjae and doesn’t notice the remote flying towards his head.

                  It hits him with a loud smack. Within seconds, Hoseok is on the floor holding the side of his head for dear life while Taehyung is hovering over him, dramatically begging him to live.

                  Jimin starts up the game.

--

                  “Hey, Jimin got a lot better since the last time I played him,” Sungjae murmurs. “He actually beat me.”

                 Out of the three rounds they played, Hoseok and Taehyung were avidly battling for the swanky title of first place while Jimin landed third in all of them. Sungjae himself used the excuse of being hung-over for being unable to play well.

                 Jimin looks startled. “Wh-When did I play you?”

                 “In middle school, remember?” The guy snorts. “They held a gaming competition on the last day of school and we played a couple games against each other.”

                 “Oh! I remember!” Taehyung sits up and snaps his fingers. “Park Jimin was a fetus back then, you totally beat him.”

                 “… Fetus,” Jimin repeats. “We’re all the same age here.”

                 “I mean, you were really small and cute when we were younger.” His friend waves his arms wildly as if to prove a completely unrelated point. “You look completely different from how you were then, y’know?”

                 Jimin narrows his eyes. “Like, a good different?”

                 Taehyung places his hand on the other boy’s knee and stares. “… Puberty did you good, man.”

                 Sungjae snorts. “Okay, guys. There’s such a thing as being too gay—hey, what was that for?!” He shrieks when Hoseok suddenly throws a cushion at his face.

                 “Taehyung still looks the same,” he says calmly, as if he didn’t throw anything at Sungjae at all. “Other than that flashy dye job, obviously.”

                 Taehyung glances between them before asking, “don’t you have a copy of our old yearbook?”

                 “Huh. I think so.” Hoseok stands up and shuffles towards the shelf by the wall. “I have eighth and ninth grade. Which one?”

                 “Eighth,” the orange-haired boy replies. “Jimin doesn’t have a picture in the ninth grade one.”

                 He pulls the book out. “He doesn’t? Why’s that?”

                 “Huh? Oh, um…” Taehyung glances at Jimin in panic. “Uh…”

                 “I got sick during the summer,” Jimin replies quietly. “And—And I missed the first couple months of ninth grade. So I didn’t take a picture then.”

                 “Huh. Alright.”

                 They huddle around the sofa when he puts the book in his lap and shuffles through it. “Wow, I’m going to cry,” Sungjae jokes, reliving their old photos. “This is pretty damn nostalgic.”

                 “Here, here.” Hoseok opens the student mug shots and scrolls through the ‘Park’ section. “… There. There’s Jimin.”

                 Taehyung lets out an ungodly squealing sound. “AWW! LOOK AT HIS CHEEKS! HE’S SO CUTE!”

                 Jimin groans. “Tae, please…”

                 “He looks like a chipmunk,” Sungjae comments. “Or a squirrel. Or some sort of chinchilla.”

                 Hoseok shuts the book, tossing it aside. “Okay, you’re out of here.” He grabs Sungjae by the the leg and starts dragging him across the floor.

                 “What the hell?! Let go of me!” He struggles to get free, but they’ve reached the foyer. Taehyung and Jimin stare blankly as this all goes down. “What did I do?!”

                 Hoseok opens the front door and shoves him out. “You can make fun of Namjoon. You can make fun of Taehyung, whatever. They’re dumb. But you can’t make fun of Jim, alright, you turd? He needs to be protected at all costs, but you’re ing rude. Go get me some tacos and maybe I’ll talk to you again.” He shuts the door without another word.

                  The other two glance at each other and try to stifle their laughs. “Hey, cheer up, man,” Taehyung says when Hoseok returns. He pats him on the back with the widest grin on his face. “Even if you just kicked someone out, it’s your birthday and you should wipe that ugly frown off your face.”

                  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Hoseok picks up the yearbook again and flips to the section with the surname ‘Kim’. He sifts through the names until he spots a familiar face. “Damn, Taehyung. You really haven’t changed a bit.”

                  Taehyung leans in to get a closer look and guffaws. “Oh my god, I looked like a good boy. These days, I look like a delinquent.”

                  “You are a delinquent,” Hoseok retorts. “Didn’t ya try to pour food coloring in that science teacher’s tea the other day?”

                  “It was funnier in a dream—yo, wait…” He points to another face in the row above. “Is that…?”

                  Jimin squints at the face before realizing he’s not good with faces. He glances at the name printed below it and reads ‘Kim Seokjin’. He looks at the face again. This person has a rounder face, framed by a pair of thick glasses and outdated haircut. He doesn’t look like the sleek, redhead senior they know today; it’s a completely different person.

                  “That’s Seokjin, right?” Hoseok says, bringing the book closer to their faces. “Damn, I wouldn’t have recognized him at all. I didn’t even know he went to our middle school.”

                  “He changed a lot…” Jimin mutters, studying Taehyung’s expression. “It’s weird, because we didn’t know he existed until high school, when he became really popular.”

                  Taehyung breathes. “Yeah, weird…”

                 The doorbell rings before he can make further comment, and Hoseok shoots out of his seat faster than a retracting seatbelt. “IT’S NAMJOON,” he bellows while sprinting down the hallway.

                 “Someone’s excited,” Taehyung snorts, breaking out into a grin. “He’s like a teenage girl.”

                 They watch as Hoseok scrambles to get the door open, revealing a breathy Namjoon standing on the other side. “Sorry I’m late,” the guy smiles, handing over a gift bag. “It took longer than expected.”

                 Hoseok blinks for a moment. He points. “Uh. What is that?”

                 Namjoon turns his head and flinches. “O-Oh my god—Jungkook!” Jungkook is standing behind him, nearly pressed against his back. The young boy stands still, not uttering a single word. “Did—Did you follow me here? Go home, man…”

                 “Uh,” Hoseok repeats, not sure what to make of this situation. “He can come in, if he wants?”

                 “No—No, it’s okay, it’s just—” He turns Jungkook around and gently nudges him on his way. The freshman begins walking off the property. “I told his grandma I wouldn’t have him for long and—I don’t know why he followed me here…”

                 “Uh,” he says again. “Thanks for coming?”

                 Namjoon gives a flustered laugh and shuffles into the house. “Thanks for inviting me. I hope you like your present!”

                 Hoseok groans a little. “I told everyone not to buy me anything…” He sticks his hand into the bag and pulls out a small machine; his eyes promptly bulge out of their sockets. “… YOU GOT ME A ING CAMERA?!”

                 “Ye—Yeah?” Namjoon looks startled. “I wanted to replace the one I broke last time, so…”

                 “What the ?” He turns it on and moves it around, testing the shots. “How much did this cost you? This thing wouldn’t have been cheap, man.”

                 “Nothing.” Namjoon grins brightly. “It didn’t cost me anything, because I made it out of spare parts I had lying around.”

                 Hoseok sputters a few incomprehensible words before putting the camera back into its bag. “What the friggity flippin’ , man. Thanks.”

                 Namjoon beams and reaches over to boop his nose. “Happy birthday, Hoseok.” The birthday boy stares at him, emotions flickering on his face because he doesn’t exactly know how to react to this level of affection.

                 Jimin and Taehyung snort.

for reference, the boys are in the 11th grade c: (Yoongi and Jin are in 12th grade).