trying to behave (but you know we never learned how)

Chapter one

November, 2000.

Jimin meets Yoongi for the first time in kindergarten.

It's windy. The slight New York chill hangs in the air, promising a harsh winter but Jimin doesn't mind. He loves the cold, loves that he can wear his colourful mittens and hats and beams especially wide whenever his dad says he looks like a small snowman with how much he likes to bundle himself up as soon as the autumn leaves trade for snowflakes.

He's sitting in class, swinging his little feet and watching with judging disapproval as some of his classmates come in, sniffling. He never cried when his parents dropped him off, not today, not ever. He's a big boy, he likes to think, which is probably why he doesn't get along with anyone here and he doesn't know if he should be relieved or not that no one wants to talk to him for some reason.

He wants friends; it's not like he likes being alone for playtime, or particularly enjoys sitting alone two months into the school year—his first—he just doesn't want to be friends with crybabies. And they apparently don't want to be friends with him either, no matter how much their teacher tries to get them to play or sit with Jimin, but whatever.

It's okay, he thinks, it's not so bad.

An intervention comes that day when he's starting to have one of his loneliness bouts and faintly missing his mom. They're doing math worksheets and Jimin's proud of himself for breezing through it, when the teacher clears her throat and prompts their attention to the doorway of the classroom.

There's a boy standing there, and Jimin eyes him with equal parts fascination and scepticism. He's pretty sure that's not one of his classmates because he looks older than them all, face hidden under a huge mop of dark hair, gaze firmly planted at his sneakers.

'Come in, darling,' the teacher says softly, walking toward him. She moves to take his hand in hers but he abruptly jerks it away and tucks it behind his back.

Jimin raises his eyebrows; he's never seen kids refuse comfort on their first day before. Or what he's assuming is his first day. Where's his parents?

He decides the boy must be too grown up for that stuff.

'Alright whatever you like sweetheart,' the teacher smiles, but even Jimin can tell it's a bit forced. He doesn't understand adults.

'Class,' she turns to them again, smile plastered on her face. 'We're welcoming a new friend today, greet him warmly okay? He just moved here from very far away so make sure he fits right in. Tell them your name darling,' she adds to the boy who looks up for the first time, no nervousness on his face; he has a mop of frizzy brown hair and looks like all of Jimin's cousins all at once. He's amazed.

'Yoongi Min,' Yoongi says lowly, almost like he's not sure if he should be saying that, but he looks cool about it.

'Well, Yoongi,' the teacher smiles again, and Jimin wishes she'd stop being such a grownup. 'I hope you have a wonderful time with us. Let me find you a seat,' she scans the classroom, before her eyes land on Jimin and light up with what he reads as hope; he hates it.

'Why don't you go sit with Jimin? I'm sure he'd love the company,' Jimin's never been more insulted in all of his 5 years. 'Jimin would you raise your hand?'

The smaller boy tentatively raises a palm into the air anyway, oddly nervy as Yoongi looks straight at him, before putting out something akin to a sigh and walking towards him, hands clutching the small backpack on his shoulders.

Jimin isn't sure if he should say something to the taller boy as he flops down into the chair next to him. He's oddly intimidated. Or maybe he's just shy. And that's weird because Jimin has never been shy.