Bubble games

six

"She's asked about you again," Jimin sighs as he and Yoongi are sauntering in the hallway of the school. "I don't see why. I've had a lot going on, with my nightmares, and guys being mean to me, but she's always asking about you." His older friend does not say anything. "I think she thinks you're my boyfriend, hyung."

Yoongi stops abruptly and stares at the orange-haired teenager. They have made it to the courtyard, where a few students enjoy the first rays of light of the season. He answers slowly, his jaw clenched, "But I'm not."

"I know you're not," Jimin replies with a giggle. "That'd be so weird. You're my best friend." He resumes walking and adds, "Plus, mom says I'm too young to date anyone. But I'm sixteen now. I see a lot of people here dating when they're younger than me."

The other boy looks at him warily. "But do you want to date anyone, anyways?"

Jimin bites his lips and stares at the ground. "I– I don't know, hyung. I guess I'm not ready." He raises his soft gaze towards his best friend. "I just find it disgusting when people kiss and stuff. But it'd be nice to have someone to hold hands with, to cuddle with, to be with at night... You know what I mean?" Yoongi nods slowly. "Anyway. It's a bit soon for me to think about it. I've got so many other problems right now. I'd just be a– a sort of burden to my boyfriend."

"I forbid you to say that, Jimin-ah. You're wonderful. Anyone would be lucky to be your boyfriend. And maybe... Maybe the person you date would support you, and help you with those problems of yours."

Jimin shrugs carelessly. When the bell of the school rings, marking the beginning of the next period, Yoongi sighs and he motions his friend to get headed for class. As they walk, he cannot help but feel guilty. How could he even make such insinuations to Jimin when the boy was clearly not elligible in the game of love? Sometimes Yoongi makes himself sick.

They are almost at the door of Jimin's class, when they hear familiar voices at a corner of a corridor. "Is that Hoseok hyung?" Jimin asks, his voice sounding like an angel getting out of a reverie.

They deviate from their way, and get closer to the voices, which, now that they are near enough, actually sound angry. When Yoongi realizes this, he tries to hold Jimin and drag him back, far from the possibility of his witnessing a fight. The small boy does not even feel his touch, and stops at a corner, from where he can see three of his friends, talking in a low voice, but loud enough for the student to hear.

"Fuck, Jin, I'm tired of this," Hoseok is currently hissing. "Don't you think someone should tell him? Jimin's so clueless. He doesn't even understand."

"Nobody's telling him anything," Jin answers calmly.

"But– This can't go on. You know it can't." He turns towards the third man. "Namjoon, you saw what happens because of this whole thing. You can't go on kicking butts because you all agreed on preserving Jimin. It does no good."

"It's not that simple, really," Namjoon sighs. "I think Yoongi helps him–"

Hoseok has a sour laugh. "Well, you perfectly know what I think about Yoongi." He sniffles bitterly. "Jimin should definitely stop seeing him."

"He cannot just stop seeing him like that, you know this. He needs Yoongi, he takes care of him for the moment."

"I don't care. I'm going to tell him. You know I will."

"Don't you dare!" Jin whispers, though he has raised his voice. "You don't have the right to do this. Jimin will be destroyed if he knows about Yoongi. Do you really want him to hurt? Are you that selfish, Hoseok?"

Jimin does not understand. Why is Hoseok hyung so angry? Why are they talking about him like this? Why are they talking about Yoongi like this? Panicking, he slowly turns around to look at Yoongi, but his friend is not there anymore. He seems to have vanished, to have abandoned him. Starting to have trouble breathing, feeling tears rushing to his eyes, Jimin covers his mouth with his hands, and slowly lets himself fall to the ground, letting go of his handbag which lands on the floor in a thud.