It started today, Thursday, March 6th.

Physical education. Aka one of the many reasons Min Yoongi thought of school as the equivalent to the scum of the earth.

Namjoon had texted him early in the morning regarding this, since after all he was well aware of how little his friend cared for the class--the tragically required class. (Yoongi swore he would one day make a petition to have PE labeled as an optional activity.)

Joonie: it gon be alright yoongs

Yoongi: im not going to school 2day

Joonie: yes u r

He knew he would have to. If Yoongi didn't show up at Namjoon's house at the usual time, Namjoon would end up dragging him out of his bed against his will anyway, and neither of them really wanted that.

"Mornin' Yoongs."

Yoongi grunted.

"C'mon, don't be like that." Namjoon patted his friend's soft green hair. "Think about positive things that are gonna happen today."

"There are none."

"Ah, but there are."

Yoongi's narrow-eyed gaze locked on the other's face.

"You'll get to talk with your new friend, riiiiiight?"

"That's not worth going to school."

"Yoongs, that's cruel. You'll hurt Jimin's feelings."

Upon arriving at the building, Yoongi collapsed in his seat, already feeling exhausted. He had skipped breakfast that morning. And forgot to pack a lunch. Or maybe he was just too lazy to pack a lunch. He couldn't remember. And trying to remember would require effort, something of which he had none to offer. So in summary, Yoongi was hungry, angry, and feeling immensely tired despite having gotten a reasonable amount of sleep the previous night. It wasn't even 8 a.m. How would he survive PE?

Oh, gosh, if they start us off with dodgeball again this year I swear I will murder the coaches in cold blood. Cold. Blood.

Not only did dodgeball force him to interact with his fellow students, but it seemed that every year, ever since his first year of middle school, there had been some incident in which Yoongi ended up either injured or on the verge of tears as a result of his fragile mental state pinned against the loud and crowded environment dodgeball created. He dreaded it. Even more so since the teams were typically divided by class, so Yoongi wouldn't be able to rely on Namjoon to provide protection from the enemies.

To make matters worse, the only alternative to dodgeball was track. And running endlessly in circles first thing in the morning would probably kill him.

With the new class in session for the year, the schedules were changed slightly, with PE taking the first slot and pushing geometry and the rest of the classes to a later time in the day. Certainly not what Yoongi would have voted for. If anything, he wished they would make it the last period of the day, so at least he could look forward to going home afterwards instead of having to endure what followed. Namjoon was fairly athletic. He would be fine. Yoongi's athleticism leaned strictly towards basketball. He would not be quite as fine.

"Yoongi? You okay? You're sweating a lot."

In the blink of an eye he was there. In the gymnasium. Wearing his gym clothes which, despite their airiness, were already starting to make him feel like a lit candle. He tugged at the loose collar and fanned himself with his hand.

"I'm fine," he told a very concerned Jimin, ignoring the subtle kick Namjoon gave to his leg. "Super fine. I love dodgeball."

"Cold lies. You're terrified, aren't you?"

Jimin turned to his cheeky friend. "Tae, shut up. You're not helping."

"Yup. 'Cause that's what I was trying to do."

Namjoon pulled a cloth out of thin air and wiped some of the sweat off Yoongi's forehead. As the coach's whistle sounded, Yoongi urged himself to look at the blond, and he found him smiling encouragingly, only to watch dejectedly as he walked away moments later. But he had no choice. It was class against class.

"Don't worry, Yoongi." Jimin stepped up to stand where Namjoon had stood. "You've got me and Tae by your side. Right, Tae?"

Taehyung didn't get the chance to reply. The whistle sounded a second time, and the coach announced in a booming voice the start of the game. Yoongi's legs froze. Before his eyes, people were already starting to hurl the bright red dodgeballs at each other at alarming speeds, feet turning sharply and creating high-pitched noises. There should be a speed limit for this game, he thought anxiously. Nothing above .5 kilometers per hour. That sounds safe.

"Yoongi, move!"

He received an abrupt push from Jimin, who scarcely saved him from the path of a dodgeball. Yoongi lost his breath. He fell to his knees as though the ball had come in contact with him after all--clutching the shirt over his chest, breathing heavily, silently wishing that there were an easier way to get taken out of the game than being hit. It's a sick, cruel world. Where's Namjoon? If only he could just lightly tap me with the ball, then I could be eliminated without getting hurt.

But he wasn't so fortunate. Namjoon and Jimin were both too busy trying to avoid contact that they couldn't warn Yoongi of the dodgeball heading straight for his head. It collided with the unsuspecting boy like a bullet to the brain, and he was sent crashing to the floor, where his forehead smacked against the hardwood. Everything stopped after that. You could have heard a pin drop in the gymnasium. Every pair of eyes turned to look at the one now lying unconscious. Then they turned to the one responsible.

-------

It wasn't anything serious, the school doctor insisted. Just a minor concussion. But the fact that he had been knocked unconscious by the impact did raise quite a bit of concern. Especially in the boy's best friend, whose stirred up emotions nearly drove him to the point of shedding tears. And Namjoon never cried. Perhaps his friend not waking up for four hours did something to his heart, his heart which blamed itself every time Yoongi was sad.

The end of the day rolled in like a slow train on rusty tracks. At the sound of the dismissal bell, Namjoon shot up from his seat, racing out of the classroom and to the school's small hospital like there was no tomorrow. Had he the option, he would have stayed by Yoongi's side the entire time, but his teachers only permitted students access to seeing him after classes had officially ended. He cursed them beneath his breath.

Namjoon found Yoongi in one of the hospital beds with a thin white sheet over his body, head resting on a stack of pillows and his eyes were open. Only slightly, but he was conscious, and that was all that mattered.

"Yoongs..."

He made his way over to the bed and sat down on it, careful not to accidentally lower himself onto Yoongi's arm which had been resting at his side. The two made eye contact. Prolonged eye contact. Yoongi pursed his lips.

"Stop looking at me like I was just diagnosed with cancer. I'll be fine--"

"Shut up and let me be in pain with you."

Namjoon placed his hand on Yoongi's forehead, thus drawing from the mint-haired boy an exaggerated sigh.

"Minor concussion," he said, just as a splitting sensation vibrated from his skull. "Doc recommended getting more sleep but I'm too tired to sleep."

"...have you felt nauseous at all since you woke up?"

Yoongi hummed softly. "A little earlier," he admitted, "but that's gone. Pretty much all that's left now is an insanely painful headache. And my bones hurt for some reason. But that's probably normal. I've always felt like I hit the grandpa stage early anyway."

"You're sure that's all?"

Namjoon's worrying gaze wouldn't stop shaking. His eyes had zeroed in on Yoongi's coutenance, meticulous to pick up any trace of a lie. But this time Yoongi wasn't lying. He was in a lot of pain, sure, but certainly nothing that he wouldn't recover from over the next day or two. Although he doubted Namjoon would believe him no matter how much he insisted upon it, so he chose not to voice his thoughts.

"I'll rest," Yoongi assured his friend. "You go. I know you have to work today, Joon. I'll call my mom to come pick me up. You don't have to worry."

"You promise you'll rest?"

Still doubting me. I don't blame him. "Promise."

"Okay...I'll trust you, Yoongs." Namjoon rose slowly from the bed. "Lots of rest," he said once he had reached the door. "Lots."

"Lots," Yoongi repeated with an annoyed eye-roll. "Now get outta here."

Then he was gone. Yoongi closed his eyes gently and sank into his pillows, only to prop himself back up again seconds later at the sound of a voice. And not Namjoon's voice.

"Hey..."

"Jimin, what are you doing here?"

The orange-haired boy's guilty gaze swept across the floor before lifting itself to greet Yoongi. He had been standing outside the hospital room ever since Namjoon had entered it, simply waiting for the time when he'd get the chance to see the injured boy. Jimin had been relatively nearby when Yoongi was hit. He saw what had happened clearer than most, and his ears had exaggerated the sound of the impact to seem like a reverberating, skull-shattering echo. It unnerved him. Because for something like that to knock Yoongi out so suddenly...it had to be bad, right? And remembering how frightened Yoongi had looked before the game even started, the sweat drops rolling down his face, the anxious clenching and un-clenching of his fists...he must have been scared out of his mind.

"How...how are you?" Jimin swallowed a lump in his throat. "You don't have to lie to me. I'm sure you're in pain, I mean you have to be after what happened. Oh, and if you aren't in the mood to talk right now, I can leave. I'd totally understand if you just wanted to rest. In fact, that's probably best, maybe I should g-"

"Jimin."

He still wasn't used to hearing Yoongi say his name.

"I don't mind. Having only a couple people visit isn't stressful for me or anything like that. Namjoon and you are okay."

Yoongi blinked slowly. Did I just say that out loud? I really must have hit my head hard.

"O-oh, well that's a relief," Jimin said, smile returning as he took several steps closer to Yoongi's bed. "I heard you only woke up less than two hours ago. You had a lot of us worried, ya know. But...no one more than Namjoon, it appears." He glanced towards the door as though the boy in question was still standing there. He soon returned his attention to Yoongi, though, expression a touch softer. "You've got a real friend, Yoongi. It's a heartwarming thing to see."

Jimin's voice had grown softer as well, and he truly sounded to have meant what he said. Though he felt bad about it, Jimin had overheard the conversation between Yoongi and Namjoon, albeit brief, and he had even caught a glimpse of the pain on Namjoon's face as he was leaving the room.

"A real friend..." Yoongi permitted himself the tiniest of smiles. "He is."

Distracted by the recalling of Namjoon's kind words, Yoongi failed to notice that Jimin had been rooting around in his book bag, searching for something in particular he had planned to give to Yoongi earlier in the day. But he hadn't the chance then, seeing as the boy had never come back to class. Yoongi snapped suddenly back into focus when Jimin began waving a small box in front of his face. He stared at it for a solid minute.

"What?"

"Gimbap." Jimin set it down carefully on Yoongi's lap. "I told you I would make it for you again in return for sending me a selfie." He chuckled softly at how silly that sounded.

"Wha-" The mint-haired boy was dumbfounded, despite his rather blank expression. "How did you know I was starving...?"

Jimin covered his mouth as he tried to conceal another laugh. But he couldn't help it. Yoongi was too cute.

"Listen, I have to be somewhere in like half an hour, but...well..." He shuffled for a moment, soon to take out his phone and begin tapping away at the screen. A few seconds later and Yoongi heard a ding from his own phone, which had been sitting on the table next to his bed. He picked it up and looked at the message displayed.

Jimin: hope u feel better soon yoongi. get lots of rest, k? I'll see u tomorrow <3

A heart. Why a heart? Moreover, why did that little gesture nearly melt Yoongi's own heart?

"Ah, Jimin-"

He disappeared. Someone new had taken his place. Tall, black hair, dark, round eyes. His face looked young, but somehow Yoongi knew they were the same age. And he seemed guilty, intensely guilty and bathed in shame, almost like a little child who had just broken his mother's favorite vase and chose to fess up about it. He wrestled with himself to look Yoongi in the eye.

"My name is Jungkook," he uttered, timid as timid could be. "I, uh...I'm...the one who hit you."

Jungkook. That name sounded vaguely familiar to Yoongi.

Ah, yes. He's the one Jimin was chasing before running into me. A pure troublemaker.

Jungkook bowed in front of him. He clutched the fabric of his pants, internally wishing he had never gotten so aggressive with such a hazardous sport to begin with. He should have known, he thought, of the dangers carelessness presented. And now he was forced to suffer the sinking feeling of knowing, hey, I gave someone a concussion. I knocked them out.

"I'm really sorry. Really, really, really sorry. I was actually trying to hit on--I mean hit. I was trying to hit...Taehyung, but I missed." He rested a nervous hand on the crook of his neck. "I thought I had better aim. I'm sorry."

Yoongi made a noise of understanding. "Well, maybe next time you're trying to hit on someone, try not using a violent platform, okay?"

To Yoongi's surprise, all Jungkook did was nod, and apologize again, and one more time, before slipping out of the room.

Jimin's friends are so strange...