That evening, Namjoon sat down with Jimin in the living room with some printouts that he’d found earlier in the day. The goal of the evening was numbers, because Jimin seemed rather fixated on always knowing the time. He’d also prepared some pages dedicated to the alphabet, but considering their slow progress so far, he didn’t think they’d make it there tonight. It might be better that way; he’d rather have time to order some books that might help rather than pages he pulled from the internet.

For half an hour, Jimin would repeat after Namjoon with his eyes glued to the page where the human was pointing, and then nod in understanding. However, when asked to produce the correct sounds on his own without prior demonstration, he remained silent. He’d keep his gaze locked with the human’s and tilt his head to the side in confusion when expected to do it on his own.

Despite Namjoon’s constant reassurance that he didn’t need to have all of this memorized right away, Jimin wasn’t feeling very confident in himself at the moment. His tail had been drooping low for the past twenty minutes after the initial attempts had proven fruitless.

It just doesn’t make sense- I’m such a fast learner, Jimin told himself. He’d always caught on so quickly to what his masters expected of him physically and behaviorally. How can learning numbers be so fundamentally different from learning procedures? Hybrids where he came from were judged on their ability to not only obey, but to adapt as quickly as possible to new environments and situations. An inability to do so resulted in the frustration of one’s master, which often manifested as physical aggression. Jimin, who learned very early on that those punishments were most undesirable, had prided himself on his skills in learning new circumstances quickly.

Despite that, ever since he’d started living here, Jimin has been learning everything slowly- how to treat humans and other hybrids, how to express his emotions, how to complete basic tasks, and now apparently how to read numbers. He’d been reassured about all of these self-perceived shortcomings, but adding one more thing to his growing list of things Jimin wished weren’t so difficult was stressful and frustrating. He didn’t want to give up on this because he truly did want to learn (or he wouldn’t have even imagined asking this favor from Namjoon), but he had a hard time staying motivated after half an hour with absolutely no results.

Namjoon easily sensed Jimin’s growing discomfort, and tried to redirect his focus accordingly. “Here, why don’t you just line the numbers up from the smallest to the largest and then we’ll take a quick break,” he suggested, spreading out the assortment of number cut-outs on the coffee table. “You don’t even have to worry about saying them out loud, just try to remember the order they go in,” he added on at Jimin’s wary gaze.

The younger huffed and Namjoon was acutely aware of the hybrid’s tail twitching angrily along the floor behind him. Jimin’s cheeks puffed out as he rested his chin against the edge of the coffee table and dragged the numbers across the wood to their proper order. Half of his thoughts were focused on the task at hand while the other half of his mind was intent on making him feel poorly about himself, which made it difficult to concentrate. Finally, when he thought he got the numbers into the correct order, he glanced up shyly at Namjoon for the final judgement.

“Almost!” he said, too loudly. Instantly, Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed and his tail thumped audibly against the floor. “No, no,” Namjoon was quick to assure, “look, these two just need to be switched, see?” He moved the 6 and the 9 out of the line Jimin made, switching their places, and gestured to the new line-up. “Those are really tricky, so don’t even worry about it. Let’s go get a snack, yeah?”

“Snack,” Jimin mumbled in response in his softest voice, less in agreement and more just for the sake of saying something correctly and earning a hair-ruffle from the human. Namjoon did just that, fluffing the hair between the younger’s ears without bothering to smooth it back down just so he’d have an excuse to pet him again later. "Do we have fruits?" Jimin asked thoughtfully, both hesitant and pleased to put the learning on pause.

"Of course, we always have fruit," Namjoon responded, standing and dusting off his jeans before offering his hands to the hybrid. He decided to leave Jimin's crutch resting against the arm of the sofa and helped the hybrid into the kitchen himself. 

Jimin had really taken a liking to all kinds of berries, melons, and citrus fruits, so the human went straight for their fruit bowl on the counter filled with fresh oranges. "Do you want me to peel it?" he asked, already starting at the top before Jimin even had the chance to nod shyly. 

Jimin waited until he was led to the kitchen table to take a seat, and even then, Namjoon sensed his negative feelings. He couldn't be sure if Jimin was upset, angry, frustrated, or any mix of those, but he knew Jimin wasn't having the best time. As he finished peeling the orange, he observed the way Jimin rubbed his hands together in his lap, stilling his tail and tilting his ears downward (whether done intentionally or not).

"Jiminie," Namjoon started, wishing he had the words. "It's... you know, it's going to take a while. People don't get these things right away... So it's okay that we're not totally there yet. And you did make so much progress! Try not to focus on what we didn't accomplish and look at everything you did right instead, yeah?" As he spoke, he handed Jimin a couple segments of the orange, which the hybrid nibbled on while he listened.

While they certainly didn't accomplish as much as Namjoon had expected, he was observing closely and forming solutions about how he could improve upon his teaching style with this particular student. It seemed Jimin's biggest complication was connecting the sound to the picture for each of the numbers, though he essentially knew both things separately with only minor slip-ups. Perhaps he could turn it into a game of sorts, to make it easier to make the connections and to ease Jimin's frustrations about learning in general.

When Jimin still hadn't responded vocally to Namjoon's assurance, the human continued. "Why don't we call it a day for tonight?" he'd asked, assuming he'd need a bit of time to regroup before coming back with new techniques and also wanting to allow Jimin some time to cool down. He'd seen what happens when Jimin gets pushed beyond his comfort zone, and he'd rather not cause the hybrid to reach that point intentionally.

The younger was not too pleased at that question, assuming he'd done something wrong or made Namjoon frustrated in return. He dropped his gaze to the table and picked at the orange slice in his hands without saying a word. The human didn't even have to look at the drooping ears and tail to understand that Jimin was disappointed, but he didn't believe that continuing their lesson right now would be productive. 

"Don't worry about it, Jiminie. Really. We'll try again tomorrow when I get home from the hospital and it'll be so much easier next time. Please don't be too frustrated, Jiminie. This is really hard stuff."

"It's not hard stuff," Jimin mumbled, allowing his emotions to show more clearly for once. "It's supposed to be easy stuff and I'm supposed to know it by now." The younger's jaw was clenched tight and it took everything he had to not squeeze the life out of the orange slice in his hands as a desperate attempt to release some of the unnecessary anger rising in him.

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