“You should’ve worn an old shirt,” Jimin murmurs, shaking the small bottle in his hand. The contents slosh around in it and he can only imagine what the result of it would be; orange or very orange. He leans against the counter, subconsciously biting on his lip.

                  Taehyung sits by the table and looks down at his clothes. “Why? What’s wrong with my shirt? It’s new.”

                  “That’s the point,” the other male sighs. “You might get stains on it.”

                  “Oh, you’re right.” Taehyung frowns. He glances around Jimin’s kitchen and spots a worn dish rag hanging near the stove. “Can I use that?”

                  “… If you don’t mind the smell, sure.” Jimin grabs it off the hook and lays it around his friend’s shoulders. Then he starts running his fingers through Taehyung’s freshly-cut hair, noting how dark the color’s gotten. “So why didn’t you get your hair dyed at the salon again?”

                  “I told you,” he replies. “The barber was nice, but the person in charge of coloring hair was the freaky grasshopper lady! I wasn’t about to let her touch me again. God, I get goose bumps just thinking about it.”

                  Jimin narrows his eyes while continuing to shake the bottle. “That doesn’t explain why you decided it was a good idea to ask me to dye your hair. And you just got out of the hospital, you should be resting.”

                  “Listen.” Taehyung dramatically raises his hand. “It’s hard to do on my own, and plus, it’s cheaper. And I trust you with my hair.”

                  “This wasn’t what I was expecting when I signed up to be your friend.”

                  “You were five. You were expecting Santa to bring you chocolate raisins. Just shut up and bleach me.”

                  Jimin lets out a snort and grabs one of his dad’s combs off the table. “I’m not liable for damage.” He squeezes the bottle and the rank smell of peroxide immediately attacks his nostrils. Gingerly, as if he was taming a cat, he combs through a lock of hair and coats it in bleach.

                  “It feels like you’re me.”

                  He smacks him across the head. “Actually, this is kind of fun.”

                  “THEN WHY’D YOU HIT ME?!” Taehyung cries.

                  “It was a natural reflex, settle down.” He starts combing the bleach through again. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to dye your hair after summer break? Then you can start the school year with, you know, an orange head.”

                  “True, but I wanna look dope for the party.” Taehyung laughs and starts doing the whip. “I can’t believe it’s already June, man! The party is tomorrow, would you in’ believe?”

                  Jimin steps back to sneeze and then continues. “Mm, the year totally flew by. We’re going to be seniors in a couple months.”

                  “Now that, my friend, is wild. Do you know what Lizzy said to me the other day?”

                  “What did Lizzy say?”

                  “She said that I’m the most likely candidate to be captain of the ping pong team next year!”

                  He uses the rag to wipe away bleach dotting the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Really? Well, I mean… once the other members graduate, won’t you be the only member left?”

                  “EXACTLY! SO I’M THE MOST LIKELY CANDIDATE.”

                  He lets out a soft laugh. “That’s cool. It’s like when Jongin told us that he’d be leading the dance team next year.”

                  “Must be nice, having a captain who actually knows how to dance.” His friend snorts. “Are you joining again, then? Next year, I mean.”

                  He takes a pin to clip back some of Taehyung’s hair. “Most likely, yeah. It’s been fun.”

                  Taehyung turns around in his seat and gives him the biggest grin. “… I told you.”

                  Jimin eyes him warily. “Told me what?”

                  “I told you to join the dance team way back in September, but you didn’t want to,” he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And look where we are now.”

                  “Alright, I got it. You were right, Tae.” He nudges his shoulder to turn him back around. “It’d be really cool to start our senior year off the right way you know? We’d know who our friends are and what we’re doing… kind of.”

                  Taehyung hums softly. “Who do you think is throwing the party next year?”

                  “Oh my god, please.” He groans, “it’s way too early to be thinking about next year’s party. But if I had to be honest… the other kids would probably want you to throw it.”

                  The guy laughs. “You think so? Well, damn. It’s going to be lit.”

                  Jimin snorts again and fixes up the last lock of his dark hair. “I’m done. Now just let it sit for twenty minutes and then we can wash it out.”

                  “Twenty minutes?” Taehyung leans back, sighing. “Brawl?”

                  “Brawl.”

                  Twenty-two minutes later, Jimin rushes Taehyung into the kitchen sink because their last round of Brawl went into overtime (as Taehyung quotes, Jimin refused to be a loser). He helps him wash the bleach out and ‘borrows’ the hairdryer from his mom’s room to blow it. After that’s all done with, he steps back to observe the results.

                  “Not bad,” Jimin says, snapping a picture on his phone. He chuckles at the nervous expressions Taehyung makes while he waits. “It’s a bit lighter than it was before, but still pretty damn orange.”

                  The orange-headed kid takes the phone to look and bursts out laughing. “HOT DAMN,” he shouts, punching Jimin on the shoulder. “You did good, I look hot. Wow, .”

                  Jimin reaches to ruffle up his hair. “You’re welcome?”

                  “Thanks.” Taehyung glances at the phone in his hand when it vibrates. “Hey, you just got a notification for—Yoongi’s graduation ceremony… oh! It’s today?”

                  “Yeah, it’s today—” Jimin chokes, turning to sprint up the stairs. “, I’M GOING TO BE LATE!” He barrels into his room and finds the semi-formal outfit he set out earlier, throwing himself into the clothes in record time. Then he tumbles back down the stairs and finds Taehyung chewing on a piece of toast. “I’ll—I’ll be back later. Make sure you condition your hair.”

                  “Okay, mom.” Taehyung waves him off, snorting. “Give Yoongi my congrats, you hear?”

                  “Of course. See you later.” Jimin grabs the small gift bag left by the kitchen door and his shoes, running off for the bus.

                  Once he catches one a staggering five minutes later, he sends the boyfriend a quick text letting him know that he’s on the way. Yoongi replies with a sad cat emoji, and Jimin has trouble understanding until he texts again with, ‘lol typo’ and a following thumbs-up emoji.

                  He makes a mad dash off the bus as soon as it stops, pausing once to familiarize himself with his surroundings before taking off again. He frantically sprints down the sidewalk and hopes the summer sun won’t bring the wretched spell of sweat onto his nice shirt and tie.

                  The banquet hall comes into view and Jimin lurches toward its front entrance when he sees Yoongi standing there. The older boy looks mildly impatient, tapping his foot until Jimin barrels into him like a fastball. “Hey,” he says, somewhat off-guard. “You’re finally here.”

                  “S-Sorry,” Jimin wheezes, clinging onto Yoongi’s arms. “How late am I?”

                  “Well, the ceremony is starting in circa two minutes, so I’d say you’re pretty damn late.” Yoongi laughs and tousles his hair. “It’s okay, not a big deal.”

                  “I-I got you a graduation gift,” he stammers, lifting up the little bag. He opens it to let him peek at a gift-wrapped box. “Well, we. It was a collective purchase by me and my friends.”

                  “I can’t carry anything into the thing,” Yoongi replies. “Because, well, I have a diploma to hold.” He laughs again and reaches to peck the younger boy on the forehead. “Give it to me later. Thank you.”

                  Jimin breathes as he steps back, observing the way his boyfriend wore the black graduation cloak around his shoulders and ingraining the image into his mind. “Where’s the fancy hat?” he asks, referring to his untidy hair.

                  “It’s on my seat. Come on, let’s go sit down.” The elder leads the way in, past the lobby and into the actual hall. It’s bustling with people, hushed murmurs flying everywhere as they wait for the ceremony to start. He points to an empty seat in the middle of the guest area. “Look, I put my bag on that chair over there. Go sit.”

                  “O-Okay.” Jimin starts toward his seat when he realizes Yoongi’s still holding onto his hand.

                  “Pay attention when I get on stage, alright? Take pictures. I left my camera bag for you.”

                  He stares at him for a moment, startled by how much the tables have turned. He tries to comprehend what exactly it means for Yoongi to be in the pictures this time, and for him to be the one behind the camera. Nevertheless, he puts on a bright smile and says, “don’t trip.”

                  The guy snorts. He makes sure Jimin is sitting comfortably before scurrying off to the front seats and joining the rest of his graduating class.

                  It’s when he goes to put his phone away that Jimin notices the odd pattern of murmuring around him. He looks up to find multiple people glancing at him, whispering as if he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He figures it’s the aftermath of what happened at prom, an echoing case of homophobia he’ll never be able to fix.

                  But he shrugs and occupies himself with something else. It doesn’t bother him anymore, not on a day like this.

                  Jimin lets out a soft sigh, patiently waiting for the ceremony to start. Once it does, he waits for the speeches to pass, all while thinking about what he’s going to do when he graduates, a year from now. He thinks about what he’s going to do before then, when Yoongi’s presence is no longer felt in between the school walls. He thinks about what antics he and Taehyung are going to pull, what more adventures they will have. The future only brings this bittersweet feeling he’d rather not face at the present moment, so Jimin brings his attention back to the stage when they begin to call up the graduates.

                  They organize into their respective homeroom classes, and Jimin panics because he doesn’t remember which class Yoongi is supposed to be in. Thankfully, he recognizes a teacher Yoongi once described as ‘a chubby oopma loompa with a receding hairline’ and assumes that’s the class he should be paying attention to. He cautiously takes Yoongi’s camera out of its bag and brings it into his lap, wondering if it gained a couple pounds since he’s last carried it. When staff begin to announce surnames starting with ‘M’, Jimin holds it up to eyelevel and clicks the shutter when Yoongi walks into the frame.

                  It’s a fleeting moment. Jimin’s not sure how well he’s done until he looks at the actual pictures. He concludes that these are probably the worst photos ever, but the way Yoongi made it a point to find him in the audience and smile is something he won’t ever forget, even if these pictures didn’t exist.

                  Jimin watches him pick up his diploma and walk the rest of the way down. Then he relaxes in his seat, still holding onto the camera even though he already made sure to turn it off. The rest of the ceremony is a continental blur, because he zones out for the bulk of it. When it ends however, the fact that Seokjin hasn’t made a single appearance lingers at the back of his mind.

--

                  After the ceremony, the graduates flood outside to meet up with their friends and family, making arrangements to celebrate the special occasion at a restaurant or elsewhere. As Jimin meanders with the camera held snug against his chest, he’s not surprised to see some of those wine-red envelopes floating around the crowd. He finds Yoongi sitting off to the side, alone on a bench.

                  The older boy lights up when he approaches. “Hey. Did I look pretty in’ awesome or what?” he asks with a smile so radiant, Jimin feels his legs turn into jelly.

                  “Pretty ing awesome,” he replies, laughing softly. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your friends? Why are you sitting over here…?” He takes a seat beside him.

                  “What friends?” Yoongi snorts, right before biting his tongue and trying again. “Nah, I’ve already seen the rest of the photography and yearbook team. They were all pretty emotional, so I had to be brief. And anyway, I’m still recovering.”

                  Jimin looks at him in alarm. “Are you okay?”

                  “Mm, just tired.” Yoongi rests his head on his shoulder, and Jimin glances up to check if anyone’s looking at them; a number of people are. “A year ago, I thought about killing myself today, remember? But now I’m here, wearing this dumb gown, with IV fluid still pumping through my veins, with some idiot I fell in love with. I’m just… I’m glad this is all over with, you know? High school was a drag. It was adventure, but I’m just glad I’m done with it.”

                  Jimin reaches to hold his hand. “You’ve done your three years, huh?”

                  “Yeah.” He waits until the excited chattering around them dies down a little to speak, but it doesn’t. So instead Yoongi leans into the younger male and says, “you might not know how it feels, not yet. But it’s not even finishing a chapter of my life, I’ve finished a book. Now I’m onto the next volume, and it’s a completely different story. It’s… weird to think about, to be honest.”

                  “… Am I still a character in your story?” he asks warily, looking off at the crowd.

                  Yoongi looks up and presses his lips against his cheek, and at this point Jimin doesn’t care who gawks at them anymore. “It’s already been written,” the older boy says vaguely. He doesn’t press any further than that, because Jimin knows exactly what he means and it’s just characteristic of him to say something like this.

                  Instead, he just lifts up the camera. “Wanna see the pictures I took?”

                  “Hell yeah. If they’re about as good as mine…” Yoongi takes it from him and turns it on. “I’ll bite my own .”

                  Jimin scoffs. “I guess you’re not biting today, then.”

                  They both peer at the viewfinder, at the couple photos of Yoongi stalking across the stage, diploma in hand. “… These are the blurriest damn pictures I’ve ever seen,” Yoongi breathes, stifling a giggle. “What were you doing, convulsing?”

                  “I was excited,” he defends himself. “And anyway, it’s not like I used the gift I got for you.” He hands over the bag again.

                  “Whoa, it’s actually heavy.” Yoongi pulls the box out and weighs it in his hand. “What did you get me?”

                  “Open it,” Jimin replies, biting on his lip.

                  “Okay.” He takes his precious time removing the tape and eventually unwraps the whole thing, eyes bulging out of their sockets when he realizes what it is. “You bought camera lenses?”

                  “Yeah. And I asked someone from photography—Dasom, actually—so it’s not like I was trying to impress you, but they’re lenses you actually need.” Jimin pauses. “Well, maybe I was trying to impress you too.”

                  “God, Jimin-ah, I—” Yoongi looks genuinely surprised as he reads over the box. “Lenses aren’t cheap, some of them cost as much as my entire student loan. How much was this?”

                  “That—That’s a secret.”

                  “Oh, you left the receipt in the bag.”

                  He panics and tries ripping the sheet of paper out of his hand. “N-No! You don’t need to see—!”

                  “,” Yoongi gasps, moving the receipt out of his reach. “There are so many zeros.”

                  Jimin groans and settles down before he manages to make a scene. “I told you, it was a collective buy… I didn’t pay for it all myself.”

                  “But you’re getting all the praise, aren’t you?”

                  His breath hitches when the older male leans in and presses their lips together, softly, without anything more than a simple ‘thank you’. 

did you know I ended up missing my graduation ceremony too
hahHAha hH A ha ha , ,, , , , ,
anyway, as we start to wrap up the story I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a q & a  session?
it'll take place on twitter @johnnipeo but I'll be accepting questions from AFF as well ! 
there are a lot of things I haven't addressed in the story, so it'd be cool to have a chance to talk to you guys !
keep me noted ; >