He'd uttered this in such a casual tone, my mind almost completely overlooked it. It sounded more like a comeback than an actual, legitimate answer to my dogged conscience's question.

For all of two minutes, the two of us said not a word--Yoongi, with his back against the wall, neck slightly bent so that he could stare fixedly at the ground at his feet, whereas I could look nowhere else but him. A part of me still couldn't believe what I heard, despite how some others may have taken such a thing lightly.

"I don't understand, you were able to find your way to your seat on the first day, and-"

"I'm not blind, you idiot." Yoongi let out a noise of disgruntlement, frowning even more than before. "Visual impairment, haven't you heard of it?"

"Can't you just use glasses?"

"You really must have a thick skull."

"Yeah, I won't argue with you there."

I approached Yoongi with careful steps, urging myself to avoid acting as though I were pitying him, while at the same time wishing he'd stop being so stubborn and independent. There was nothing wrong with wanting to help someone, and surely there was no reason for him to be refusing it so strongly.

"Gimme your hand."

"And what do you plan on doing with it?"

"I dunno, maybe intertwine our fingers romantically and skip off into the distance together so we can get married or something." I laughed quietly to myself, shaking my head disappointedly at the hopelessly confused expression Yoongi now had on. I didn't mean to spite him. Anyone would've found it amusing. "I'm trying to help you stand, genius. Now take my hand. How far is your house from school, by the way?"

He had finally faced me, those cognac eyes wider than ever and flooded with an immeasurable amount of uncertainty. "A-...about six blocks," he said. I gave a low whistle in response.

"That close?"

"I...can get there...on my own."

He's more hesitant to argue now. That's good.

"You couldn't even make it to the door, pal, I don't think it's safe to let you walk home like this."

He fought it. Not physically, but I could see it--he was in the midst of a mental conflict, vigorously battling the urge to take another's hand and allow them to get closer to him, to see what it was that kept him so reserved. I meant what I'd said earlier, how I only had good intentions. Even more so now due to this newly acquired knowledge I possessed.

"C'mon, Yoongi." I smiled at him in a sympathetic yet respectful manner--well, that was the look I strove to maintain, anyway. I couldn't be assured my efforts were successful until that ever present frown of his vanished.

He took my hand. Reluctantly, no doubt, but nonetheless it was progress. I rose to my feet and lifted him up along with me, taking heed to watch his face warily in the chance that his expression might change to something a little more...pleasant.

Witnessing the lack of positive change was honestly disheartening.

"I'm sorry."

That was the first thing he uttered once he was standing again. An apology--of all things, it just had to be an apology. Even to myself, I couldn't explain why that affected me the way it did, but I wasn't about to start denying it either.

"In this situation, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to say thanks."

"..."

"Oh, I get it. You're shy." I sported a playful smirk. "Don't worry. If that's the case then I promise not to tell your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

Confusion. I realized then and there that my presumption had been incorrect all along. I let out a quiet laugh in spite of myself, considering not pressing on the matter any more then I already had, though I soon found myself doing so regardless.

"So, she's your sister then."

"...yeah."

I found it somewhat shocking that he hadn't responded austerely or with sarcasm. Improvement, I thought, this had to be improvement. As I led Yoongi over to the doorway, now clutching his wrist kindly yet securely, I bit my bottom lip and endeavored to bury the last of my curiosities, reminding myself over and over again that this was none of my business, that I need not get involved. But each time I glanced over my shoulder to get another glimpse of his inscrutable countenance, I felt my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the pitfall trap I had unknowingly dug for myself.

The pitfall trap...of which was synonymous to the innate desire to understand others emotionally.

It really did appear as though we were the only students left in the entire building. The hallways, sufficiently lit by sunlight pouring through the windows on the left side, were entirely void of activity, void of the voices and laughter and people that typically were always found occupying its otherwise empty space. It was odd--I never stayed this late before. Sure, I did enjoy a little peace and quiet every now and then, but this was eerily quiet.

All the more reason to break the silence, huh.

"So what's it like?"

Without even looking at him, I could tell that Yoongi was already beginning to glare at me with a judgmental gleam in his eye. He let out an audible puff of air through his nose.

"What's it to you?"

"I'm curious," I replied in full honesty. "Respectfully curious, I should say. That is, if you tell me, it's not like I'm going to run around mocking you behind your back or anything like that. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

I hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Dunno. I was hoping it'd make you a little more comfortable with opening up, I guess."

"You're trying to comfort me?"

"Well, yeah, I thought that much was obvious."

There was a hint of wavering disbelief in his tone, which almost tempted me to turn around to see if his expression had altered at all as a result. I was weak in some instances, so I did end up looking back. Yoongi's eyes were on me.

"I have no peripheral vision," he said solemnly. His gaze didn't shift in the slightest, which put me somewhat on edge.

"No...peripheral vision?"

"Yeah, as in I can only see what's directly in front of me, and mostly, only out of one eye, although sometimes even that image is blurry." He moved his free hand up to touch his temple. "Like today, for example, I was suffering from a severe headache, and just about everything was out of focus. All except..."

"Except?"

Somewhere in the middle of his brief explanation, I had once again turned my attention to the hallway ahead of me so that I could be assured I didn't pass the exit whenever we came to it. He left me on a cliffhanger he did, and for a moment I wasn't entirely sure he would ever finish that statement he'd so haphazardly begun. But he did. Quite ambiguously at first, but he must have felt the need to clarify himself to avoid misunderstanding.

"...except you. With that bright red hair of yours, it's almost impossible not to see you...you stand out, has anyone ever told you that?"

"You have no idea..."

So Jungkook had been right after all. Funnily enough, it was, to some extent, satisfying to hear him say what he did. And once again I could feel proud of this flamboyant characteristic of mine. Even if it were in a roundabout way, I believed I was able to help someone this time around.

And what an oddly fulfilling sensation that was.

I ended up leading a one-way conversation absentmindedly for just about the entirety of our walk to Yoongi's place, and throughout that short period of time the boy spoke not a word. He simply stared at the hand firmly gripping his wrist, almost as though a part of him believed it would otherwise soon disappear.

*****

The events of the following day played out rather strangely, what with Yoongi suddenly deciding not to show up at school and all. I couldn't quite understand. Up until now, he'd been coming to class--or, brought to class, rather, by his younger sister--promptly, on time, every day, always here well before the bell rang. It took longer than it should have for me to recall some rather significant words Yoongi had uttered yesterday, namely the part about him 'suffering from a severe headache'. Still, it concerned me--just a little bit in the start, but upon discovering that the darling first year wasn't here either, suspicion became rooted in with my interests.

"You're acting weird today, Jimin."

I didn't snap out of my daze till the moment Seokjin began poking my cheek with the back side of his chopsticks, a curious eyebrow arched and aimed at me. Hoseok scooted closer to Seokjin and joined in the chopstick poking. Jungkook scooted closer to me and grinned snidely.

"It's not often you zone out like this," he purred in my ear, casually slinging an arm around my shoulder just to shorten the gap. "C'mon, spill. Got a crush?"

I frowned indignantly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't tell me, it's that cute underclassmen that's been comin' by our room every day, isn't it?" Jungkook chuckled in spite of me. "Gotta say, man, I'm a little surprised. Could've sworn you told us you were ga-"

I thrust my fingers into Jungkook's side, causing him to reflexively retract himself from me to cover up his newly acquired bruise. I allowed myself a bitter smile.

Hoseok made a quiet, thoughtful noise. "So you're bisexual then."

"Hobi, don't encourage Guk..."

"I'm not," he insisted innocently, returning his attention to the half-eaten lunch in front of him. "I'm just saying, we support you no matter what."

"He's right, Jimin," Seokjin said with a nod. "We just want to know if there's something on your mind you want to talk about-"

"There isn't."

I understood I was being rudely terse just then, but the words fell out before I could catch and reconfigure them. I didn't intend to worry my friends with the matter, especially since it wasn't something I had meant for myself to get involved in. But now they were sure to know. Being consciously aware of that, I put on my best smile and made it my mission to reassure them--however many times necessary--that there wasn't, in fact, anything on my mind that hadn't been there before.

But unfortunately, I wasn't able to carry on this act of mine forever.

Today, for a reason our teacher did not provide, we were given a free class, left with the requirement that we were to use our time productively, such as to study for upcoming tests and whatnot. But of course, as one could only expect from a handful of unsupervised teenagers, the majority of the otherwise empty air was filled with sounds of gossip and ridicule, most of which...was targeted at a certain absentee.

And as absurd and concerning as many those comments were, not a one mentioned of Yoongi's eyesight.

"I heard he's got a sister whose terminally ill. She attends this school."

"Do you think it's a contagious disease or something? Maybe that's why he's not here. Scary..."

I made earnest effort...to block out their voices, the gossip, the rumors, all the ill-favored comments and negativity. None of them seemed to know about his eyes. At first, I felt a little special, that I was the only one he told--even if doing so hadn't been quite on his own will. But then I took the time to ponder the possibility of what a sad truth this could've been in reality.

Visual impairment. No peripheral vision. Blurry faces, blurry objects, an incapability to move from place to place with ease. This was all the information I had gathered from Yoongi from just one day of speaking with him. Such a battle he seemed to be fighting, and with no one there to help him, nonetheless, save that girl, who appeared to be fighting a battle of her own.

Little did I know that with everything I learned...I sank deeper. And this was only the beginning.

The next day, Yoongi was absent again, as was his sister. But on the following morning, I caught sight of him, and on the way to school, no less. What tore at me though wasn't merely the fact that he was walking alone, but the undeniably forlorn look stretched across that pretty pale face of his. Eyes on the ground at his feet, Yoongi didn't notice me gaining on him from across the street, and I took it upon myself to be cautious in my approach. The last thing I wanted was for him to dislike me any more than he already did.

"Yoongi?"

I tried calling out tenderly to him, hesitant to touch his shoulder even after I had him within arm's reach. I was certain he'd detected my presence by now, but closing the gap was still something fear accompanied.

"Good morning, Yoongi."

I opted for a friendly side-by-side walking position, feeling obligated to train my gaze on his eyes, despite being aware I was most likely not in his line of sight at the moment. He could hear me. I figured that was enough.

"Has your headache gone away?"

Once again, he didn't respond. I knew he could hear me. It wasn't as though his ears were plugged with earphones or speakers of any kind; they were wide open to receive my voice, and yet Yoongi didn't do so much as part his lips. There was something on his mind, and whatever it was possessed enough power to seal his tongue...or at least, it seemed that way.

"You're starting to wobble a bit there, I can hold your wrist again if you want-"

"Leave me alone."

I had upset him. And, like before, it was completely unintentional. This wasn't prying, I told myself, it was but harmless concern. This wasn't pity, I said over and over again, this was an innocent desire to make someone's life easier.

This wasn't pity.

"Has it gotten worse?" I lifted my arm slowly and started to move it subtly towards Yoongi's wrist. "How blurry are things now? Here, look this way and tell me how clear my face is-"

It was as though the slightest movement had triggered a motion sensor within the boy's mind, urging him to tear his arm away from its near contact with my hand...which remained suspended for some time, even as Yoongi's feet carried him away from me. I couldn't explain why this little action of his formed inside of me somewhat of an empty, discontented feeling, but it ate at me, little by little.

"How about your sister?"

That was when the bomb dropped. Truly, there was no one to blame but me; this time I was sure I had stepped over the line. The way Yoongi so abruptly stopped in his tracks, the ever so slight tremor in his hands as he tried to bury the apparent desire to wring my neck. That alone was enough to ensure me that my question did not sit well with him...that matters concerning his sister were not to be touched on.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"She's being warded."

He must have merely wanted to shut me up, and I had to admit, he did a good job. For just a moment he froze in place, suspended in an air of uncertainty, but also clear-cut pain. Yoongi didn't need any more than a few simple words to convey the deepest feelings of his heart, the voice of shameless truth that wanted to be heard, but simultaneously feared judgment. All I could do was watch him, my eyes peeled for the slightest alteration in his movements, the direction of his gaze, even his hands. They appeared limp now--no longer twitching, as though they'd given up on the idea that they would be held again.

It was disheartening, watching him walk away. And to this day I regret not running after him.