Jimin sits in the bathtub with his legs drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth as he dips his small finger into the fluffy white bubbles and traces aimlessly into the frothy surface.

His mother had brought him home from daycare early that day, after receiving a phone call from the director’s office that her son had been in an altercation.

“What altercation? He’s four,” Gahee questions angrily, still dressed in her nursing scrubs and hair pulled back in a ponytail, making her seem more formidable and frightening in Jimin’s eyes.

“From what I heard, Jimin was… intercepted on his way to the playground by a few of the other children,” the director replies delicately, treading carefully lest an angry parent threatens to sue for negligence and cause unnecessary complications. That would look bad for the daycare’s reputation.

“Intercepted,” Gahee’s voice quivers dangerously, just barely above a whisper. “You call this being intercepted? My son has a bruise on his face and scratches on his arms! He is clearly being bullied!”

“I would like to ask you to please calm down,” the director rubs the back of her neck, breathing heavily through her nose. “There is no need to raise voices and cause unnecess-“

“Why weren’t they being watched?” Gahee feels as if her insides are exploding, continuing on furiously with no stopping in sight. “Where were all the teachers? What am I paying you for?”

“Now see here,” the director seems to have finally had enough, palms falling on her wooden desk and rising from her chair. “We ar-“

“Mom?”

Everything freezes, save for the soft ticking of the clock hanging above the director’s desk.

“Mommy?” Jimin’s small voice breaks through the charged atmosphere, tension hanging thick in the air. Startled, Gahee spins around to face her child sitting behind on a plastic red chair, swinging his feet. In her anger, she had forgotten he was even there.

“Yes baby,” Gahee kneels before him, brushing away the fringe off his forehead.

“I want to go home. Please?”

Jimin smiles, and her heart shatters just a little bit more.

In an instant, Gahee sweeps her son into her arm, no questions asked. And she whisks him off the premises, heading for home immediately.

“Here sweetheart, why don’t you take a nice warm bath, huh? And mommy will fix you something to eat when you’re done, okay?”

She helps Jimin undress and settle inside the porcelain tub, letting the bath fill with fragrant bubbles as he waits patiently for the tub to fill. Gahee tries to smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with worry.

After shutting off the flowing water, with a soft pat on Jimin’s cheek, Gahee quietly slips out the door with a hand over , muffling the sobs that she’d been holding back and no longer could.

That had been half an hour ago.

“Mommy,” Jimin whispers into the silence, listening to the fizzling sound as the bubbles slowly pop and melt away into the now lukewarm water.

He doesn’t like seeing her sad, because it makes him sad. And he especially doesn’t like it when she’s sad because of him.

He didn’t mean to make her cry.

“She’ll be fine,” a soft, clear voice rings out of nowhere, startling Jimin as he glances left and right in search of the voice that had spoken so close to his ear.

But there’s no one here.

Just Jimin, and his bubbles. No one else.

“Hello?” Jimin calls out hesitantly, hugging his legs closer to his chest. He can actually feel his heart beating rapidly against the tops of his thighs.

Everything remains still and silent, only the soft sound of the dissipating bubbles fizzling in the air. And just when Jimin thinks it may have been his imagination, that same clear voice cuts through the silence, the sound somewhat magnified as it resonates off the tiles.

“Hi,” the voice replies. And Jimin slips sideways down the tub, knees loosening and legs sliding completely under the water. His head jerks from side to side in search of the speaker, but still can’t seem to find whoever is lurking in his bathroom. “And like I said, your mother will be fine.”

“Who are you?” Jimin frowns, puffing up his chest and trying to stay brave. He’s a big boy now, and can take care of himself. “Where are you? What are you doing in my bathroom?”

“I’m right here,” the voice sounds so very close, but Jimin still can’t see who it is.

“Right where?” Jimin’s frown becomes more pronounced, his heart finally calming down some.

“Right here,” the voice repeats. “To your right.”

Jimin turns his gaze to his right, only to come face to face with the bathroom wall. He stares up and down the length of the tiled walls, eyes traveling over the rows and rows of smooth, white, equal squares.

“Very funny,” Jimin huffs, unamused. He turns his gaze over his left shoulder, once again scanning the bathroom. Someone is obviously joking around with him.

“No, really,” the voice insists. “I’m right here. Look.”

Jimin sighs, but he turns back to face the wall.

“Look.”

And Jimin looks.

And Jimin blinks.

And Jimin doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

“See? I’m right here.”

Jimin blinks again, harder this time, to clear his thoughts. Maybe he’s just really tired? He’s probably seeing things.

“I told you, I’m right here.”

Jimin still doesn’t believe, even as the voice speaks loud and clear beside him. Because what he sees is his own shadow cast across the tiled walls by the halogen light above, moving of its own accord, even as Jimin remains completely still, staring in disbelief.

His… shadow waves its hand. And Jimin raises his own hand out of the water to stare down uncomprehendingly at his pruned fingers.

Jimin glances back up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Are you a ghost?” Jimin asks, reaching out his hand to trace over the silhouette that still refuses to move with him.

“No, I’m Yoongi,” the voice replies, slowly raising its own silhouette of a hand to match palm to palm with Jimin’s. “But you can call me hyung.”

“What? How come?” Jimin pouts, still tracing curious fingers across his shadow. “We’re the same age.”

“Nah,” Yoongi’s voice sounds amused. “I’ve been around way longer than you have. I’m older. So you can call me hyung.”

“You probably just made that up,” Jimin argues stubbornly. Yoongi is his shadow, so they must have been born at the same time.

“Listen here, kid,” Yoongi’s silhouette shakes his head. “I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been around for a very long time. You call me hyung, and that’s final.”

“Fine,” Jimin mumbles grudgingly under his breath. “Well then, hyung, where have you been all this time?”

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi asks in surprise.

“I mean,” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes. “How come you’re talking to me now? You never did before. Why were you hiding?”

“Oh, that,” Yoongi’s silhouette scratches his head. “Well, we’re not really supposed to talk to you humans.”

“Why not?” Jimin blinks curiously, watching the shadow move in fascination. He still can’t get over the fact that his shadow is moving without him.

“Honey?” a soft knock on the door jolts him back to the present, water splashing over the edge of the tub as he turns rapidly towards his mother’s head peeking through. “Baby, who are you talking to?”

“Huh?” Jimin rubs the soap out of his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“I thought I heard you,” Gahee begins, a soft smile on her face as she enters the bathroom. “Oh, never mind.”

“It was nobody,” Jimin answers slowly, eyes flickering towards the wall where Yoongi nods in approval. “I was just talking to myself.”

“I see,” Gahee dips her hand into the water. “It’s so cold. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jimin drops his gaze into the water, remembering the look of sadness that had washed over his mother’s face.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Gahee gently soothes her palm under Jimin’s chin to meet her gaze. “Baby, you never bother me. Mommy’s sorry.”

She draws Jimin close with both hands on his cheeks, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I love you mommy,” Jimin smiles, and Gahee smiles back.

“Love you too, baby. Now why don’t we get you all cleaned up? I made some chicken for dinner.”

“Okay mommy,” Jimin agrees, sitting patiently and watching as Gahee drains the soapy water and fills it up with fresh, new water. His eyes continue to stray towards Yoongi’s direction, even as his mother lathers shampoo into his hair and rinses it out.

From his peripheral vision, Jimin eyes the side profile of Yoongi’s silhouette raising a finger to his pursed lips, and a silent hush whispers into Jimin’s ears.

--

“Oh, but hyung! That means there must be thousands of you!” Jimin whispers excitedly, eyes wide round circles as he stares at Yoongi’s silhouette cast by the light of his Pororo nightlight, sitting cross legged on the bed pressed close against the wall.

“Thousands, Millions,” Yoongi agrees, nodding his head. “There are as many of us as there are people on this Earth. We live in the shadows, to protect you from the darkness.”

“Darkness?” Jimin his head to the side curiously. “You mean like nighttime?”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“No,” his voice says slowly. “This is something worse, something alive. The darkness is an evil thing that lurks amongst the shadows, always trying to find a way to snatch souls from the human world.”

Jimin shivers, arms tightening around his thick comforter wrapped around his shoulders.

“And once they take you, you can never come back.”

Suddenly, every shadow in the room seems a little less benign, eyes flitting around every nook and cranny as if expecting to see some frightening dark monster jumping out of the shadows with fangs bared and claws ready to kill. His eyes flicker towards his window, making sure the curtains are tightly shut.

“And where do they take you?” Jimin questions in a whisper, a chill traveling down his spine. And he jerks his gaze over his shoulders, feeling that tingling sensation like someone is watching.

“Nobody knows,” Yoongi’s voice lowers with Jimin’s, silhouette seeming to lean in closer towards Jimin. “Even the shadow guardians don’t really understand where they come from, or why they exist. All we know is that they are deadly, sentient creatures. And we were put on this planet to protect.”

Jimin’s four year old mind is suddenly filled with the realization that dangers exist in the world outside of the protection of his home, perils that can forcefully rip you away from your family and loved ones.

His lower lip quivers, a small whimper quavering in the back of his throat. He starts to slowly rock back and forth, panic settling into the pit of his stomach.

“But it’s okay,” Yoongi’s soft voices soothes, the sound wrapping around Jimin like a second blanket. “As long as I’m here to keep you safe, nothing will happen to you. Don’t worry. We’re good at what we do.”

Jimin blinks back the sharp pricks in his eyes, and inhales a shaky breath.

“Really? You promise?” he asks, raising his hand and pressing his palm flat against the wall.

“Of course I promise,” Yoongi replies, and Jimin can almost hear the smile in his voice. Yoongi’s hand rises to press palm on palm against Jimin’s, and Jimin can actually feel a comforting warmth radiating against his skin. The fear slowly begins to melt away.

Jimin rubs his thumb gently in small circles.

“You know, we’re not actually supposed to talk to you,” Yoongi adds, almost like an afterthought. “But I thought maybe you needed a friend, so…”

Jimin smiles, mouth opening to express his gratitude when the door suddenly opens behind him, and his mother’s face peeks in through the door.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

Jimin startles, spinning around on his bed to stare at his mother all the way across the room.

“Nothing mommy,” he manages to smile, taking a deep breath to regain control of his heart skittering quickly out of control.

“Baby, I told you to go to bed,” Gahee slips into the room, hall light streaming inside behind her to illuminate the room as shadows leap away and melt into the corners. Jimin’s eyes flash behind him, catching Yoongi’s silhouette quietly settling back into his place to correspond with Jimin’s position.

“You should be sleeping,” Gahee helps Jimin lay back down, tucking in the corners of the blanket and smoothing back his hair. “I won’t tell you again,” she warns.

“Sorry, mommy,” Jimin blinks up at Gahee’s face, and she smiles back warmly.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Gahee leans down to press a soft kiss on Jimin’s forehead.

“Good night, mommy,” Jimin closes his eyes and curls into a ball on his side. He can hear her quiet footsteps head away towards the door, the soft click reaching his ears as Gahee gently closes it shut.

Jimin cracks open an eye, glancing over his shoulder at the wall behind him.

“Good night, Yoongi hyung,” he whispers, watching Yoongi settle into a more comfortable position.

“Good night, kiddo,” Yoongi whispers back.

Jimin closes his eyes, a smile on his lips as he is lulled into a sound sleep by the comfort of Yoongi’s warm presence, feeling even more protected than he’d ever felt in his entire four years of life.

--

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want to stay home today?” Gahee’s forehead wrinkles with worry, hands otherwise occupied as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. “I can call Jinah noona to come over and play with you while mommy’s at work.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jimin smiles, swinging his legs back and forth as he shovels a large spoonful of milk and cereal into his mouth. “I ‘ant ‘o go to s’ool,” he mumbles around his mouthful of breakfast, spoon clutched in his small fist.

“Chew with your mouth closed, honey,” Gahee mutters distractedly, patting Jimin on the head as she powerwalks passed him out of the kitchen. She’s running late this morning. And if Jimin actually wants to go to daycare, then they need to be out through that door and running within ten minutes.

Jimin takes an almighty swallow, clearing his mouth and setting down his spoon.

“Mommy, I wanna go to school!” he calls after Gahee rushing out of the kitchen in search of her cellphone and car keys. He hears a few bumps and thumps from the other room, followed by a muffled grunt that sounds like it might be a swearword. “Mommy?”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” his mother’s voice floats in from the living room. “Finish your breakfast. Mommy’s gotta find the car keys.”

“Okay,” jimin replies with a smile, resuming his task of spooning in large amounts of cereal into his mouth.

He glances over at the far wall to find Yoongi’s silhouette settled on the outline of the kitchen counter. Jimin waves, Yoongi waves back after a short pause.

“How come you still wanna go to school?” Yoongi swings his legs, fingertips drumming lightly against the counter. “Wouldn’t you rather stay at home?”

Jimin blinks his eyes, unable to find the right words to say. He likes going to school, despite the bullying and mean children. He doesn’t understand why those kids call him names, just because he’s a little bit different. He doesn’t know why they make fun of him for not having a daddy, when they do. His mommy takes care of him just fine on her own. It doesn’t bother him, so it shouldn’t bother them either.

But for some reason, they seem to not be so accepting as he would have been were the situations reversed.

Regardless, school is a fun place where he can play with cool toys. And he really likes the teachers. They’re so nice.

But the real reason he braves those long hours at daycare, putting up with the pushing and pulling, the spiteful words, is because he knows it would make his mother’s life just a little bit easier.

Jimin doesn’t want his mommy to have to worry about who will take care of him if he doesn’t go to daycare. He doesn’t want her to stress over finding a babysitter every day.

She already has enough to worry about as it is.

“I like school,” Jimin shrugs, picking up the bowl and slurping down the sugary milk. “And I wanna be a good boy for mommy,” he adds, setting down the bowl and wiping over his milk mustache with the back of his sleeve.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums, nodding his head.

“Sweetheart, are you finished?” Gahee bustles back into the kitchen, juggling the misplaced car keys, her purse, and Jimin’s backpack in her arms as she reaches out for her coffee mug on the counter.

“I’m done,” Jimin waves his spoon and empty bowl, hopping down from the chair and skipping over to dump his utensils into the sink. He tiptoes over the edge, one hand clutching onto the sink and the other reaching out his short arm to drop the bowl.

“Careful, baby,” Gahee takes the bowl from Jimin’s hand and places it into the sink. She dips down to place a light kiss on top of his head. “Come on, let’s get going or mommy will be late.”

“Yay, I’m so excited!” Jimin hops on the balls of his feet, small fists clenched excitedly.

“Hm?” Gahee tilts her head curiously, running her fingers through Jimin’s dark locks.

“Oops,” Jimin’s eyes turn wide, hands shooting up to cover his mouth. His eyes flicker towards the floral printed wall where Yoongi’s silhouette whispers a silent hush, a finger held up against his lips on the outline of his side profile.

“Shh.”

“Okay mommy,” Jimin grabs onto Gahee’s hands, glancing up into her face with a happy smile, all pearly white, shiny teeth and sparkles. “Let’s go, go, go!”

“O… kay?” Gahee offers a puzzled grin, somewhat bewildered by her son’s sudden enthusiasm. But her heart melts a little from his blinding smile, and she gently taps her finger under his chin. “Okay baby, let’s get a move on.”

--

“I’ve already seen your school,” Yoongi’s voice replies from beside him, but Jimin’s enthusiasm will not be dissuaded. Jimin can just hear his hyung’s eyes rolling, even as he continues to introduce his cubby before the other kids begin to arrive. “I’ve already seen everything you’ve seen.”

“Yeah but,” Jimin runs his finger over the sticker with his name written across in felt tip pen. “You never got to see it with me. I want to tell you all about it!”

Jimin hears Yoongi sigh, but his silhouette settles on top of the row of cubbies.

“Okay, tell me all about it,” Yoongi gestures his hand out over Jimin’s cubby on the top row.

Jimin carefully clears his throat.

Yoongi sighs again, and Jimin can imagine him rolling his eyes.

“This is my cubby,” Jimin states in an official tone, arms swinging out over his head as if he’s presenting the world’s greatest surprise. “And this is where I put my jacket, and blanket, and crayons and stuff.”

“Mhm,” Yoongi nods lightly in polite interest.

“And this,” Jimin pulls out a buttery yellow piece of construction paper with sporadic splotches of colorful paint scattered across, holding it up towards the wall for Yoongi to see. “I made this yesterday.”

“Cool,” Yoongi nods again.

“All by myself,” Jimin continues proudly, gazing at his own artwork with a satisfied smile. “This is mommy,” he points to a cluster of pink and purple splashes, woven together with a swirl of bright red. “And this-“

Jimin’s explanation of his masterpiece is interrupted by a shrill voice.

“Who are you talking to?” one of his peers, a little girl with pigtails, stares at him with a wrinkled expression, little pink backpack clutched tightly in her arms.

“Nobody,” Jimin replies automatically, spinning around with his hands behind his back.

“I heard you talking to someone,” she continues with a frown, not making any moves to step closer.

Jimin silently moves away from her path, making way for the cubbies, but she remains frozen to the spot.

“Who were you talking to?” she insists, tapping her foot. And Jimin finds himself feeling slightly uncomfortably, plucking on the hems of his sleeves.

Her friend joins her not long after, staring back and forth between Jimin and the girl with pigtails in confusion.

“What are you doing?” her friend tugs on her sleeve, glancing back at Jimin with clear misgivings.

Jimin feels the urge to shrink in on himself, shying away from their burning gaze.

The little girl with pigtails glances at the teacher and the aide at the front of the room, rifling through papers in silent conversation.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head after a moment’s pause, pigtails swinging back and forth. “Let’s go. I don’t like being around the weirdo. He gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah,” her friend agrees quietly. And they both walk away towards the little shelves where the building blocks and puzzles are kept.

A gust of air whooshes out of Jimin’s lungs as he releases the air he hadn’t even been aware he was holding. He blinks rapidly, a little stunned but also grateful that this little encounter hadn’t led to anything physical, as it usually escalated.

“Lovely girl,” Yoongi’s voice startles Jimin out of his daze, and Jimin glances over his shoulder for a fleeting look towards Yoongi’s silhouette. His eyes flicker back to the front of the room where kids are slowly beginning to trickle in.

Jimin shrugs off his own backpack and sets it in his cubby.

He figures now that his peers are starting to trickle in one by one, he’d better watch out and take care not to talk to his Yoongi hyung too loudly.

With a final touch of his small fingers along the outline of Yoongi’s shoulder, Jimin makes his way towards an empty, small round table set with a stack of assorted, colorful construction papers and a variety of crafting tools.

Jimin settles on one of the child sized chairs, legs swinging as he meticulously picks out the right colors he wants to use on his next art project.

This is what he really looks forward to, the reason why he wants to keep coming to day care despite the harsh treatment of the other children.

Even though Jimin has plenty of his own scissors and crayons and paint and paper back at home, it’s wholly another experience to create with things that are not his.

Jimin sets out to his task at hand, tiny pink tongue poking out between his lips in deep concentration as he cuts out several shapes of varying colors and sizes.

Yoongi’s shadow sits by patiently, and Jimin’s eyes periodically shoot furtive glances to reassure that he’s still there.

The entire room is now filled with children, divided into small groups playing at different stations, each supervised by a teacher or assistant.

But Jimin barely notices, so engrossed in his art project.

As long as nobody bothers him, Jimin bothers nobody else.

He doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until one of the teachers places a gentle hand on his shoulder, interrupting him from his painstaking glue work.

“Honey, it’s almost snack time,” the teacher says with a kind smile. “Why don’t you go on over and wash your hands.”

“Okay,” Jimin replies, rubbing together his white fingers coated with drying layers of glue.  He scrapes his chair back, wincing as he pushes himself onto wobbly feet that had fallen asleep from sitting too long.

He spots Yoongi pouncing off his perch on the table top, falling into step as Jimin totters away towards the low silvery sink at the back of the room.

“Thought I was gonna fall asleep for a second there,” Yoongi says in a light voice as Jimin twists the metal knob, a thin flow of water spilling out of the faucet.

“Is that what you do when I’m at school?” Jimin asks, pumping a small circle of soap into his hands and working it into a foamy lather.

“Sleep? Yeah, what else is there to do? I like sleeping,” Yoongi shrugs. And Jimin is about to open his mouth to ask another question when he’s interrupted by an irritated huff.

Jimin jerks his head to the side and comes face to face with none other than the girl with pigtails again.

“Who are you talking to? Tell me,” she says in a bossy tone, arms crossed over her chest. But Jimin refuses to reply, turning back to gaze down at his hands as he rinses away the soap.

The girl huffs again when she receives no response. And understanding clearly she won’t be getting one any time soon, she changes her tactics.

“Move,” she commands, nudging Jimin on the shoulder. “I need to wash my hands.”

He can hear Yoongi muttering a string of threats under his breath in warning, but Jimin knows she can’t hear him.

“Wait,” Jimin mumbles, flinching away from her touch. “I’m almost done.”

“You’re taking too long,” her voice begins to rise, laced with anger that Jimin just doesn’t understand where it’s coming from.

Jimin blinks back the tears of confusion burning in the corners of his eyes, shutting off the water and shaking off the excess water dripping from his hands.

He stretches out his arm to reach for the paper towel dispenser, fingertips just inches away from the lever.

“I said move!”

And suddenly, there’s an almighty shove on his back that makes Jimin lose his balance. He can feel his right sneaker lose its grip on the linoleum floor, sliding on a small puddle of water that had gathered below the sink.

The world begins to tilt in slow motion, and Jimin can feel himself falling.

He can hear someone calling his name, that comforting, soothing voice he’d become so accustomed to in just one short day.

And then sparks of brilliant white light spot his vision, and a sharp wave of pain engulfs him under a blanket of darkness.