Yoongi is leaning with her back against her locker when it happens.

Namjoon had been going on about all of the things that he and Seokjin had done on their date last night when the girl’s eyes start drifting away from her friend and lock onto a boy walking suspiciously close to a girl with short brunette hair falling just past her shoulders. She recognizes the girl to be Park Jimin, a junior who took some of the advance classes that Yoongi herself was in. They had never spoken more than a few words to each other, but everyone said that Jimin was the ultimate sweetheart of the school. Yoongi didn’t doubt it; she had seen the girl cry after calling a classmate by the wrong name one time.

To put it frankly; Park Jimin was a precious cinnamon roll, too pure for this world, and she must be protected at all costs. It was just an unspoken rule between all of the female students (and some of the males) in the school.

That was why the moment Yoongi sees the male student who was a little too close behind the younger girl pull out a flip phone and begin to inch it under Jimin’s skirt, Yoongi pushes off of the locker and practically flies over to him to rip the phone out of his hand. The boy looks up, eyes wide with shock, and then drops to his knees while spitting out shaken apologies for what he was trying to do. The black haired girl grips the phone tightly in her hands when she sees the picture still flashing on the screen and brings her knee up to snap the flip phone in half. She throws the remains of the broken phone to the floor and crouches down to be at eye level with the boy. “You can go tell your parents why your phone is broken.”

The boy nods his head frantically, picking up the pieces of his shattered electronic device, and scurries away without another word. Yoongi stands up to brush the dust off of her skirt, mumbling curses under her breath. She hears soft whimpering to the left of her, and turns to see wet tears flowing down Park Jimin’s round cheeks.

“Are you, uh, alright?” Yoongi asks hesitantly. She does not know how to deal with her own feelings, much less anyone else’s.

Jimin nods her head once, sniffling unattractively behind her jacket’s sleeve. She regains her composure as much as she can before bending into a bow and whispering a quiet, “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi stares down at the girl awkwardly. Should she comfort her? Walk her to class to reassure her nothing else will happen? She was not ready to deal with this. She wasn’t Hoseok; human interaction was not her strong suit.

“Do you want me to walk you to class?”

Jimin looks up with shining wide eyes, dried tears trailing down her otherwise perfect face. Her lips stretch into a smile, and Yoongi wonders if Jimin’s smile makes everyone this weak in the knees. “Yes, please, I would like that.”

As if on cue, the bell rings to tell the students to get to their class and Jimin pulls two more books from her locker to add to her pile. Yoongi only has her notebook and a pen for her free period up next, and compared to the stack of textbooks, binders, and folders that Jimin balances in her arms, she is carrying nothing worth complaining about.

“Let me help you with those,” says the taller girl, reaching for the top four books. Jimin eyes her nervously before nodding and starting towards her classroom.

They turn a corner and continue down the hallway until Jimin halts abruptly in front of a doorway. Yoongi does not realize this soon enough, and bumps into the back of the younger girl, knocking herself off of her feet and scattering the books in her hands onto the floor.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Jimin exclaims loudly, dropping to the ground and placing a hand over the elder girl’s arm to look for any sign of injury. The black haired girl waves away her concern and goes to gather the fallen books off of the ground. One of Jimin’s notebooks lies in front of her, pages flipped open to a bookmarked page with writing and doodles scribbled on the side columns. She picks it up and her eyes automatically land on a crookedly drawn heart on the bottom of a page. Inside of the heart is Jimin’s name, followed by a plus sign, and then Yoongi’s own name underneath it.

Jimin stands, now holding all of her books excluding the notebook in Yoongi’s hands, and reaches out to help the paler girl up. “Thank you for walking me to class, and for, um, stopping that boy from earlier…”

“Anytime,” Yoongi replies, closing the notebook and handing it back to Jimin. She watches the shorter girl shuffle her feet around awkwardly for a moment before looking up at the elder girl and opening to speak.

“Actually, eonni, I was wondering if you were free anytime this weekend. I would like to repay you for what you’ve done for me.” A blush forms on the brunette’s cheeks, and Yoongi knows that this must be hard for the girl to ask her.

“Yeah, I’m free all weekend.” Yoongi smiles, and reaches for Jimin’s notebook to tear off the edge of a page to scribble down her number. “Call me whenever you’re ready.”

From there, they say their goodbyes and part ways until the next time they meet. Jimin sets her books down on top of her desk and hold the piece of paper carefully in her hand, as if it will break if she holds onto it too tightly. She smooths her thumb across the seven digits carved into it and furrows her eyebrows when she sees the outline of something else written on the back. When she flips the paper around, her heart leaps in her chest and she traces the freshly drawn heart with her and Yoongi’s names scrawled neatly in the center.