Yoongi glanced at Nayeon who was fixing her hair. She had been messing with it for about ten minutes.

"What?" Yoongi finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What's your obsession with your hair?"

Their friends turned their attention to them. Yoongi gave them all a look which made them all look away.

"I just don't think my hair looks good."

"It does."

"So, do you think it looks good in a low bun?"

"Umm, yeah? Why's that important?"

She shrugged, reapplying lipgloss. Yoongi grabbed her hand stopping her. She looked at him confused.

"Is there something I need to know?" He asked.

"No. About what?"

"What's your thing with, Jimin?"

She furrowed her eyebrows as a slight blush creeped up her neck. "Nothing." She replied pulling her hand away.

She got up from the lunch table and headed out. "What's up with you two?" Jin wondered. Yoongi shrugged. "Not sure."

•••

Jimin was laying on the ground attempting to snap a picture of a flower. When he got the right angle he clicked the button.

Seconds later, his camera was giving him the Polaroid. He got up and started shaking the picture waiting for the ink to kick in.

Then, he spotted another unique thing to get a picture of. It was a drawing on an old bench. He approached it and kneeled down.

The bench was rusty and almost moldy, but the drawing was bright and noticeable. He brought his camera up to his eye waiting for it to focus.

"What are you doing, freak?"

Jimin gasped and immediately brought his camera down. There were a few guys walking around the field that spotted him.

He instantly got up and starting walking away. "Hey!" One of them screamed. Jimin's heart started to race as he picked up his speed.

"Why are you running away?" They teased.

Jimin was so paranoid that when he saw an open door he immediately ran inside. When he stepped in he immediately regretted it realizing it was the locker room.

He flinched hearing the door shut behind him. "Where to now, huh?" One asked. Jimin didn't turn around afraid of looking them in the eye.

A guy shoved him from behind pushing him against the brick wall. "Bet you like being pushed against the wall. Don't you, fag?" He said pushing his face harshly against the cold bricks.

Jimin whimpered out of pain feeling the harsh wall rub against his face. "Hear that? That fag likes it."

"Sicko."

"Weirdo."

"Sinner."

The guy stopped pushing Jimin and he turned around and faced them. "I-I was tr-trying to take a picture of-of-"

"Of who huh? I saw you! You were trying to snap a picture of us!"

"No-no-I would-I would never-"

"Don't fucking lie. Why do you want a picture of us huh? To touch yourself faggot?"

Jimin shook his head no. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating now and he felt like everything was spinning.

One of them pulled his camera from him and he threw it on the ground. It cracked open and Jimin felt his heart sink.

His camera.

His pictures.

They were the only things giving him some sort of happiness. Why were they so mean? All he wanted was to take a picture of an old bench.

He stepped on it over and over until it was in so many pieces it was impossible to repair. "That's what you get." He spitted.

Jimin was so confused, angry, but mostly just scared. One grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him.

He tried to pull back, but the guy was much stronger than himself. "We're going to teach you a lesson. Disgusting fags like you shouldn't exist."

Please let me go.

Is what Jimin wanted to say. He was too scared for the words to come out his mouth. He was thrown on the floor against the lockers.

They started kicking him causing him to cough and nearly vomit. Another grabbed his book bag and took it off while the others tortured him in the back.

"Let's see what you have in here." He spoke taking things out of his bag. He found some pictures he had taken and he laughed.

"You take stupid ass pictures. Fucking weirdo man." He said crumpling them.

"Ahh! A sharpie!" He grinned.

The other four guys held him tightly. He approached a scared Jimim who's chin was quivering.

The guy smacked his face making him wince. He laughed enjoying the feeling. He smacked him again only this time harder. Then again, and again, and again.

Jimin's body felt numb and he could taste the blood in his mouth. The guy yanked his hair and started drawing on his face with the sharpie.

After they laughed, recorded and humiliated him they got up and walked away snickering. Jimin waited until he heard the door shut.

He slowly sat up holding his stomach. There were tears brimming his eyes, but he didn't cry. He didn't have time to cry.

What if they came back? So he decided to get up with much struggle. He felt nauseous and so sick.

He had a hoodie in his bag and he took it out and put it on. In the process, grabbing his crumpled pictures. After dragging himself to his broken camera, he picked up the bigger pieces.

His chin started quivering again as he put them in his pocket. He was very thankful that the sun was setting and that there weren't many students around.

He was especially grateful to know that he got the elevator to himself. It hurt to breathe. His stomach and chest were sore from the kicks and the hits.

At first, he was angry, furious, and livid. And all that anger he had within him turned into deep sadness. He was mostly angry at the shitty world.

When the room door open, he sighed relieved knowing Yoongi wasn't here yet. He didn't want no one to see him like this. He dropped his bag and removed his hoodie.

Then, walked to the bathroom and shut the door lightly. It cracked open but he didn't even mind it.

When his eyes landed on his image he instantly bursted into tears. His heart was too heavy. His chest hurt.

The faucet water started running and he wet his hand to wipe the nasty drawings they had drawn on his forehead and cheek.

The ink started dripping from his face into the white sink. He didn't care if it became stained. The tears streaming down his face felt like burning acid.

Yoongi walked through the door and spotted Jimin's book bag on the floor along with his hoodie.

He cracked a smile. Clumsy. The bathroom door was slightly opened so he approached it quietly.

Maybe, he'd catch him singing again. As he got closer he heard soft sniffles. "Agh, your clumsy ass dropped the book bag again. You know, if you don't want me to look at your shit then—"

He stopped talking once he heard him. He couldn't quite see his face only his side profile.
"Why are you crying?" He whispered.

Those words triggered him causing the anger to creep inside of him. Wasn't he allowed to cry? To feel?

"Excuse me while I cry. Some people are having a really tough time right now, you know?" He sobbed.

Yoongi stepped in and grabbed his hand turning him towards his view. He sucked in his breath.

Jimin's cheek was bruised, his lip was bloody, and there were awful drawings on his face. "Who did this to you?" Yoongi asked his anger intensifying.

"Who?" He repeated.

Jimin simply kept crying unable to answer. Yoongi felt his eyes fill up with tears. He was beyond angry.

Those feelings diminished seeing him cry. He pulled him in for a hug. Jimin melted against his chest and Yoongi didn't care about the tears or the sharpie stains.

"Tell me who did it."

"What's the point? They've already done this to me." He cried.

Yoongi held him tighter until he calmed down some. When he was calmer he pulled away. "Here. Have a seat." He instructed shutting the toilet seat.

Jimin took a seat and Yoongi grabbed a small towel wetting it. He kneeled down and started wiping the marker stains from his face.

"Those fuckers. They take advantage of you. I'll teach them a lesson."

"Why do you care?" He quietly asked.

Yoongi shrugged, "I don't know, but I do."

Jimin's chin started to quiver again. "You can cry. It's good to cry sometimes." He cooed.

"Thank you." He whispered as fat tears streamed down his face.

"For what? Wiping your face? It's no big deal."

"For the comfort."

"Oh, okay, uh, sure." He nervously replied.

"I haven't received a hug in a long time. It was nice."

Yoongi sighed. "Shut up. Just hug me." He responded. He could feel his face turning hot and red.

Jimin rested his face on his shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly and he felt at peace. Even though he was hurting emotionally and physically he didn't feel anything in his arms.

Just comfort and peace.

That's all he needed at the moment.