My head was still spinning as I walked up my front stairs from Jimin's car. I lost control of my feet in my attempt to get away from the cold too quickly and found myself plummeting forward, barely breaking the fall with my hands. I swallowed my embarrassment and waved at Jimin to let him know I was okay.

I pulled open the front door and entered, still mentally shaming myself for kissing Jimin. Without meaning or intending to, I had just complicated things even further...now he probably had a clue as to how I felt about him. No way was I ready for that.

"Jungkook," my umma's gentle but firm voice called from the family room. I was glad there was a staircase between us so she couldn't see how I flinched.

"Hey, Umma," I replied nervously, stepping out of my boots and walking around so I could see her. She sat on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket that was older than I was, and fixed me with concerned eyes I earlier observed were very similar to my own.

"Jungkook," she said again. "Four days with sight and I suddenly never see you anymore. I miss you, baby. Tell me how your day went."

Though she said it lightly, I could hear that her voice was laced with exhaustion and maybe a little bit of sadness. I didn't need to be asked again, so I rushed over and climbed on the couch to her right, preparing myself to make up some stories about my day.

It was still odd for me to see my mother. While her voice sounded the same and she felt the same as she had for the first sixteen years of my life, she...wasn't how I pictured her, and I still wasn't used to seeing her face and thinking that's my mom. It felt like we just met.

"So...first, what happened after school? Were you...you weren't...crying or anything, were you?" her words were casual, but her eyes brimmed with concern.

I shifted uncomfortably and looked away from her, towards the flickering colors on the TV. I knew I was going to tell my umma about Jimin eventually, and there wasn't a better time then right then, but...I couldn't find my words. I couldn't get myself to start the sentence. Sitting with my mouth open, I eventually shook my head and chuckled humorlessly. "I don't know."

"Baby," she urged. "What were you going to say?"

My eyes dropped to my hands as I swallowed. "I...I was at Jimin's after school..."

"Yeah?"

"And I, uh..." Why did I have to say it? If only I knew how to write, then I would just text it to her. It was amazing how difficult it was to spit the words out, and even more so how bizarre they sounded when I said them. "I like him..."

She continued nodding obliviously, and I internally groaned. As soon as I got the words out, they weren't enough. "I'm glad. He's a nice kid. You're already so much more friendly and social--"

"Umma," I cut in, slightly overwhelmed with the different emotions that clogged me. "I like him as more than a friend. I like him like I shouldn't like him because he's a boy...and I'm a boy...so I left his house because I was scared."

"Oh," she said, her eyes widening only a little bit. She nodded casually to try to conceal her shock. 

"I'm sorry," I said breathlessly, hating the way my voice cracked. The look of surprise on her face was overwhelming--but it wasn't upset, which was a good sign. I didn't want anything as much as I wanted my umma to be happy. "I'm so sorry, Umma. I know it's...not what you and Appa want. Maybe it'll pass..."

"Kookie," she said, shaking her head and breaking into a toothy grin that sent my heart flying. "Kookie. Honey. I'm surprised, but no way am I disappointed in you, my angel. I'm happy for you."

My tears welled up and spilled over faster than they ever had before. I was exploding with relief and happiness when I leaned forward and put my arms around her, resting my face against her collarbone and shaking with sobs. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Oh, Kookie," she said with a chuckle. "I'm so sorry that you've been scared of telling me all this time. Of course I'll support you no matter what you like. Just..."

"Just don't tell Appa," I finished for her. "Yeah."

She shook her head before she knew how to respond, and that left her awkwardly negating for too long. "I'll talk to him."

"Thanks, Umma."

"Mhmm." She cleared and smiled at me, reaching out to run her fingers through my hair. "Now, I'm not going to ask why you're wearing a red uniform with your nametag on it..."

My stomach into my spinal cord.

"But red really does look wonderful on you. You should wear it next time you go to Jimin's house."

I sighed and wiped under my eyes. That woman was a saint. "I love you."

"Love you too. But really, why are you wearing a red uniform with your nametag on it?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to ask!" I protested, hiding my uniform behind the edge of the blanket desperately. It became my life goal to turn completely invisible and slink upstairs unnoticed.

"Well...I lied," she said, grinning. "I'm not mad if you have a job, but don't work yourself too hard, Kookie. You still are slightly handicapped...how did you get hired, anyways?"

"Jimin's family owns a supermarket," I replied. My voice cracked as I said his name, and she didn't miss a thing.

"He's cute, Jungkook."

"He is," I agreed hopelessly, hiding my face behind the blanket as well. "He's amazing."

...

My life became very routined and relaxed after that day.

I wasn't sure whether or not my umma ever talked to Appa, because he never said anything and she never said that she told him. She teased me about it a lot -- little things, like winking when I went to work or giggling when I would leave for Jimin's house.

Jimin never said anything about the time I kissed him. I was relieved that he didn't, because I certainly wasn't ready to explain any of that to him and I doubted he was ready to hear it.

About a month passed with a pretty stone-carved schedule. I would wake up, either Umma or Appa would drive me to school depending on Appa's work schedule, I would go through school drawing (I had gotten pretty good--Jimin actually complimented some of my doodles once), I would continue my reading lessons with Seokjin last hour, and I would walk to Hoseok's house after school with Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin.

The six best friends, all at least a year older than me, never got sick of each other. I frequently questioned how based off of how much time they spent together. Hoseok's house was like an open museum--someone was always there. M