Umma wanted to hear all about my day when I got home from Hoseok's house. She asked me what I thought about school, how people looked, and whether or not I had fun with my friends. I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to tell how excited she was to have a normal, not impaired kid in her house after so many years.

"School was fun. Everyone looks very different from each other. I had a lot of fun at Hoseok's house," I answered her rapidfire questions one at a time and dropped my backpack onto the couch, missing by a little much to my embarrassment and rushing to move it up. "How was your day."

"I had a good day, thanks honey," Umma replied. She handed me a glass of milk and sat down on the couch between me and my backpack. "So who all was there at Hoseok's?"

"Well," I began. "Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin, plus these kids named Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung. They're all really weird, but I think I like them."

"Jimin?" she echoed. "Isn't that the guy who came to the hospital?"

I nodded, grinning despite myself. "Yeah." I seriously debated telling her about my possibility of getting a job at Jimin's family's supermarket, but I eventually decided against it. No way would she let me work when I was technically still recovering from surgery. "I started learning how to read today."

"Yeah? How was that?"

I recounted the rest of my day to her patiently, until finally she told me to go wash up for dinner while she went to cook it. Every night we would wait until Appa got home to eat, but we usually ended up giving up and starting just a few minutes before he walked in the door.

I wandered to my own room and pushed open the door. My room had simple baby blue walls that were basically empty other than a single small window on the far wall and my bed pushed up against the opposite one, so the night before I had printed off a few papers that were visually exciting and stuck them in patterns across the paint. My favorite was the red and gold Iron Man one that was taped just above my pillow.

The next serious debate I had with myself (and I had a lot, that was for sure) was whether or not I should immediately call Jimin. He and I had talked all throughout my time spent at Hoseok's--I felt bad, even, because I spent more time with Jimin than my host and my old buddy Seokjin. Jimin's smiles and adorable giggles, while frequent and wildly immature sometimes, were worth it.

Who was I kidding? No way was I going to be able to think about anything else unless I called the boy right then and there. I pulled out my phone.

For the first two rings I paced my room, watching as my sock-covered feet expanded when I pressed my weight into the floor, chewing the nails of my free hand nervously. What if he was eating with his family? What if he gets annoyed that I'm calling him? ...

"Hello?"

"Jimin," I said, feeling abruptly giddy and grinning down at the floor at the sound of his voice. "Hey..."

"Hold on a sec." There was a pause and the sound of dim conversations in the distance as I circled my room, bobbing up and down slightly with my heart pounding. He was busy. There was no question now.

"Okay, sorry," he said, his tiny lisp more obvious through the phone speakers. "Hey, Jungkookie."

"You're not busy, right?" I asked. "I didn't want to disturb you, but I figured I'd call while I remembered..."

"Not at all! I'm just here with my little brother. We were playing basketball outside, but he's a lot better than I am, so I came in. I'm not a bad sport or anything, I just don't really like basketball..."

I giggled, taking a seat on the edge of my twin bed and burying my face in one hand. It was amazing how effortlessly Jimin could bring a smile to my lips. "You...oh, you."

"What!" Jimin protested. "My umma isn't home right now, so I guess you're just gonna have to talk to the glorious Park Jimin about something else..."

I rolled my eyes. "Get your head out of your , hyung."

Jimin laughed a high pitched laugh, and I felt butterflies throw a flutter party in my belly. "Hey, I'm getting you a job, mister. Be grateful."

"Thanks, hyung!" I sang, falling backwards until I was curled up in bed. "But I don't have a job yet, you know."

"Aish, when did kids get so sassy?"

As I giggled like in idiot, more movement sounded from his side of the line. "Sorry, Kookie, my brother is being annoying. Can I call you back?"

"Sure," I said, even though I certainly didn't want him to, and I hung up.

He called me Kookie.

Seokjin, Umma and Appa, and even my aunts and uncles had been using that nickname as long as I'd known them, but it was somehow twice as adorable coming from Jimin's lips. Maybe that was because he was so precious himself.

Appa got home before Jimin called back, so I tossed my phone onto my pillow and made my way downstairs to eat with my parents.

"Hey Kookie, how was your day?" Appa asked as I took my seat at the table.

"It was good, how was yours?"

"Good. Umma tells me you hung out with some friends after scool?"

I gave her a questioning look, and she beamed innocently. "Yeah, I went to Seokjin's friend Hoseok's house."

"Be careful, Jungkook. You don't know that kid."

"Yes, appa."

My father was always a lot more protective than my mother was. I loved them both with all my heart, but they had very different ways of showing me that they returned that love. Appa's often consisted of extensive worrying and constantly monitoring my actions.

After a slightly stressful dinner involving Umma asking a lot of financial questions and Appa stretching the norm to change the subject, I hast