The first day of kindergarten was supposed to be exciting.

For most kids, at least.

Not for Taehyung.

Tiny hands clutched the hem of his oversized cardigan, the sleeves nearly swallowing his fingers. His shoes made the softest squeak as he stepped into the brightly colored classroom, but his presence was louder than any noise could be.

The room buzzed with giggles and chatter. Crayon drawings taped to the walls, little plastic chairs scattered like candy drops, and that unmistakable scent of glue sticks and apple juice lingered in the air.

But when Taehyung walked in, everything slowed. Heads turned.

He was small—smaller than most boys—and delicate, like a glass ornament in a world of tumbling blocks and racing cars. Soft brown curls framed his porcelain face, and thick lashes brushed against flushed cheeks as he looked down, too shy to meet anyone’s eyes.

Even his uniform looked different on him. The sweater draped loosely over his narrow shoulders, and the bow around his collar was perfectly tied, unlike the lopsided mess on everyone else. He looked like he’d walked out of a storybook.

Some thought he looked like a girl. Others thought he looked too pretty to be real.

But Jungkook—the messy-haired boy with skinned knees and untied shoes—thought he looked... magical.

From his seat by the window, Jungkook had been building a tower out of wooden blocks, but it all collapsed when he saw him.

The new boy.

His eyes widened, lips parting just slightly. For some reason, his heart skipped.

Taehyung’s gaze lifted for just a second, as if sensing the stare. Their eyes met—only briefly—but it was enough to make something flutter quietly between them.

Jungkook didn’t know what it was.

He just knew he wanted to stare longer.

“Who’s that?” someone whispered.

“A new kid, I think.”

“He looks weird. Like a doll.”

“Is he a girl?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed.

The whispers annoyed him.

Taehyung clearly heard them too. His shoulders tensed, and he took a step back, clutching his bag tighter. But the teacher—Miss Han—gently guided him forward with a warm smile.

“This is Kim Taehyung,” she announced softly. “He just moved here. I want everyone to be kind, okay?”

There was a chorus of half-hearted okay’s. Some kids looked bored. Some giggled.

But Jungkook sat up straight.

“Taehyung, would you like to sit by the window?” Miss Han gestured toward the empty seat—right next to Jungkook.

Taehyung blinked.

He looked like he wanted to vanish.

Still, he nodded shyly and tiptoed toward the desk. His movements were graceful, quiet. Like he was afraid of taking up too much space.

When he sat down, his backpack neatly tucked beside him, Jungkook could barely breathe.

“Hi,” Jungkook said, smiling.

Taehyung glanced at him—quick, unsure—but didn’t speak.

“I’m Jungkook.” The younger boy offered a hand, even though it was still sticky with glue from art time.

Taehyung looked at it.

Then back at Jungkook.

Then down again.

He didn’t shake it.

Jungkook flushed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Taehyung’s lashes fluttered. His lips parted a little, like he was trying to say something, but nothing came out. He only gave the tiniest nod.

But it was enough to make Jungkook smile again.

Later, during playtime, everyone scattered into their friend groups.

But not Taehyung.

He sat alone near the bookshelf, running his fingers gently over the pages of a picture book he didn’t really read. He wasn’t sure how to join in. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

But then—Jungkook was there.

Again.

Dropping beside him on the floor, cross-legged and curious.

“Do you like tigers?” he asked, pointing at the cartoon animal on the page Taehyung had been staring at.

Taehyung blinked.

He gave the tiniest nod.

“I like lions,” Jungkook whispered, as if it were a secret. “But tigers are cool too. They look like they have fire on them.”

Taehyung’s lips twitched.

Almost a smile.

“You wanna draw one with me?” Jungkook asked. “I have orange crayons. I’ll let you use the good ones.”

Taehyung looked at him.

Jungkook’s eyes were so wide. So full of light. There was no teasing in them. No whispering or laughing like the other kids.

Just soft sincerity.

Taehyung gave another small nod.

Jungkook grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. “Cool! C’mon! I’ll show you my tiger voice.”

He jumped up, already growling like a tiny beast.

Taehyung followed, slow but curious, hugging the picture book to his chest.

That afternoon, the two of them sat side by side, scribbling orange stripes on paper, giggling over wobbly paws and crooked fangs.

It was the first time anyone heard Taehyung laugh.

And Jungkook’s ears turned bright red.

Miss Han watched from her desk and smiled to herself.

“They’re going to be trouble,” she whispered.

But even she had no idea how deeply tangled those little hearts would grow.

In another corner, a pair of sharp eyes watched.

Park Jimin, already too clever and confident for five years old, tilted his head curiously from where he sat with his art project. His gaze lingered on the two boys—one loud and bright, the other quiet and soft.

He didn’t say anything.

Just noted the way they looked at each other.

And filed it away.

That night, Taehyung curled into bed with his stuffed bear, whispering a soft “goodnight” into the silence of his new room.

But in his mind, he could still see that boy’s smile.

The one who said tigers looked like fire.

And maybe…

Maybe today wasn’t so scary after all.

If Jungkook was the sun—burning wild and warm—then Jimin was the spark that danced in its orbit. Bright, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore.

He came into the classroom like he owned it.

Not with arrogance—but with the kind of confidence that bloomed only when you knew you were deeply loved. His cheeks were chubby with baby fat, his eyes sparkled with mischief, and his laugh? It was the kind that made people turn their heads.

“Jungkookie!” he yelled from the door, running across the classroom before the teacher could even greet him. “You didn’t wait for me today!”

Jungkook, who had been coloring with Taehyung near the window, looked up with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Chim. I got excited.”

“Excited?” Jimin pouted, dramatic as always. “You forgot about me?”

“No!” Jungkook stood up quickly. “I didn’t forget! I was just—”

His eyes darted to Taehyung, who was quietly erasing something from his sketch, head down, fingers trembling slightly.

“I was showing Taehyung the crayons,” Jungkook explained. “He’s new. He sits with me.”

Jimin blinked.

Then turned.

His gaze landed on the quiet boy by the window—soft brown curls, cardigan sleeves hiding half his hands, lips pressed into a nervous line.

So this was the new kid.

Jimin tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “He’s pretty,” he said out loud.

Taehyung’s ears flushed red.

Jungkook coughed. “He’s nice.”

“Hmm.” Jimin strolled over, standing right in front of Taehyung now. “Do you talk?”

Taehyung hesitated. His lashes fluttered, unsure.

“I—I do,” he whispered.

Jimin raised a brow. “You talk like a cloud.”

Taehyung blinked. “A cloud?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded sagely. “Soft and floaty.”

Jungkook giggled.

Taehyung didn’t know what to say.

“Do you wanna play with us?” Jimin asked, suddenly offering his hand, chubby fingers outstretched.

Taehyung looked at it. His heart thudded.

The other kids never offered.

He looked to Jungkook for help.

Jungkook smiled at him, eyes crinkling. “It’s okay. Jimin’s nice. Mostly.”

“Hey!” Jimin frowned, offended.

Taehyung laughed—just a little.

It was enough.

He reached out and took Jimin’s hand.

Warmth. Acceptance.

Maybe a bit of gravity, too.

Because from that moment, something shifted. The orbit realigned.

And for the first time, the three of them were together.

They spent the day building block castles and arguing over animal crackers.

“Why do you always eat the lions first?” Jimin huffed.

“Because they’re the kings,” Jungkook shrugged.

“That’s not fair! The giraffes are tall!”

“But lions have fangs!”

Taehyung sat between them, quietly nibbling a cracker shaped like a panda. He watched them argue like it was a dance—perfectly choreographed, chaotic, and endearing.

He didn’t interrupt.

But when Jimin pouted extra hard, Taehyung reached over and placed one of his own lion crackers into Jimin’s palm.

Jimin paused.

Then grinned wide.

“Okay, you can stay,” he declared.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft.

And Taehyung? He felt... included.

Not completely.

Not yet.

But something was blooming in his chest.

During nap time, the lights were dimmed and lullabies hummed from the speakers. All the kids had their little mats and blankets sprawled across the classroom.

Jungkook was already lying down, blanket kicked off like always.

Taehyung curled up neatly, hugging his bear.

Jimin flopped down between them like a starfish, sighing dramatically. “Today was tiring.”

“You just talked too much,” Jungkook whispered.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Shh,” Taehyung mumbled, hiding his smile in his bear’s fur.

They giggled.

And then—quiet.

A rare moment of peace.

Until Jimin peeked one eye open and looked at Taehyung. “Do you miss home?”

Taehyung blinked.

The question was unexpected.

He thought about his old room, his grandma’s garden, the tiny stars his mom used to stick to his ceiling.

He nodded. Slowly.

“Do you miss your friends?” Jimin asked.

“I… didn’t have many.”

Jungkook opened one eye too, frowning. “Why?”

Taehyung shrugged. “They said I was weird.”

Jimin sat up slightly, indignant. “Well, we’re weird too. So now you have us.”

Taehyung stared.

Jungkook added, “Yeah. We can all be weird together.”

Taehyung felt something warm unfurl in his chest.

Maybe he’d found his new home.

Maybe… he wasn’t so alone anymore.

But as the days passed, something small—something invisible but sharp—started to shimmer beneath the surface.

Jungkook laughed loudest with Jimin.

Jimin always knew how to steal his attention.

And sometimes, when Taehyung reached out—Jungkook didn’t notice.

It was tiny.

Like a hiccup in a perfect song.

But Taehyung felt it.

And so, one day, he sat quietly at the art table, coloring with soft strokes, while Jungkook and Jimin giggled on the floor with plastic dinosaurs.

Miss Han came by and gently touched his shoulder. “Aren’t you joining them?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I’m okay here.”

She didn’t press.

But Jimin noticed.

So did Jungkook.

Later that day, while Jimin was washing his hands and the classroom had mostly emptied, Jungkook came up to Taehyung, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“You were quiet today.”

Taehyung shrugged.

“Are you mad at me?”

Taehyung looked up. His lips parted.

Then closed again.

“No,” he whispered.

Jungkook looked sad. “Do you… like being my friend?”

Taehyung’s chest ached.

“I do,” he said softly. “A lot.”

“Then why—”

“I just… sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong in your world.”

Jungkook blinked. “But you do.”

“You and Jimin are… loud. Bright. I’m not.”

Jungkook reached out.

Touched Taehyung’s sleeve, like he had earlier with the crayons.

“You don’t have to be loud,” he whispered. “You’re already my favorite part.”

Taehyung looked up.

Eyes wide. Breath caught.

That night, he dreamt of stars.

And hands that always reached for his.

The sky outside the classroom was pale, like it couldn’t decide whether to rain or shine.

Inside, the air smelled like glue sticks and freshly sharpened pencils.

Taehyung sat by the window again, sleeves rolled over his palms, a little box of crayons open in front of him. He liked the pale blue best. It reminded him of his mother’s lullabies — soft, endless, and just a little sad.

Jungkook plopped down next to him, breathless from running laps in the corridor.

“You draw so quiet,” Jungkook said, leaning over. “Can I color with you?”

Taehyung nodded without a word. Then—he did something brave.

He pushed the entire crayon box toward Jungkook.

“All of them?” Jungkook asked, blinking.

Taehyung nodded again. “You can use any color.”

Jungkook smiled, wide and dimpled. “Even the shiny gold one?”

Taehyung’s lips twitched. “Even that one.”

Jungkook picked it up like it was treasure. “Thanks, Tae.”

From across the room, Jimin watched.

He wasn’t being sneaky — Jimin never was — but there was something different in his gaze now. A flicker of something he didn’t yet have a name for.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe something else.

He made his way over, slow and thoughtful.

“You’re not usually this quiet, Kook,” he said, plopping down on Taehyung’s other side.

“Taehyung gave me his crayons,” Jungkook explained, holding up the gold stub like a trophy.

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Taehyung.

“You’re sharing?” he asked, tilting his head.

Taehyung nodded shyly.

Jimin smiled. “That’s nice.”

Then he reached into his own backpack, pulled out a piece of white paper, and began folding it with quick, practiced fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asked.

“Making a plane.”

“A paper plane?”

“No,” Jimin deadpanned, “a real one.”

Jungkook snorted. “You’re weird.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Taehyung watched them, silent and still.

He didn’t speak much, but he noticed everything.

The way Jungkook leaned closer to Jimin when he laughed.

The way Jimin’s hand brushed Jungkook’s knee when he leaned over.

And then—how Jungkook reached out to tuck Taehyung’s fallen crayon behind his ear, careful and soft.

“You’ll drop it,” he said simply.

Taehyung’s breath caught.

His fingers touched the crayon behind his ear.

Warm. A little bit golden.

By the time their drawings were done, there was a paper tiger, a rainbow-splattered sky, and a very fat-looking bunny.

“That’s not a bunny,” Jimin pointed at Jungkook’s paper. “It’s a potato with ears.”

“It’s my bunny,” Jungkook insisted.

“Potato,” Jimin repeated with a grin.

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

He just folded his own paper into something delicate.

Not a tiger. Not a bunny.

A plane.

“Here,” he whispered, offering it to Jungkook.

Jungkook blinked. “You made one too?”

Taehyung nodded.

“It’s… really nice,” Jungkook said, running a thumb over the folds.

Then—impulsively—he launched it across the room.

It soared.

Dipped.

Glided straight into the teacher’s desk.

The class burst into laughter.

Even Miss Han cracked a smile.

But Jimin didn’t laugh.

He stared at the plane.

At the careful way it was made.

At the way Jungkook held it like it was precious.

At the way Taehyung watched Jungkook’s face instead of the flight.

Something in Jimin’s chest shifted.

Just a little.

Not pain. Not yet.

But awareness.

Like he’d just heard the first note of a song he didn’t know the lyrics to — but already feared he wouldn’t forget.

Later that day, they sat on the school steps waiting for their parents.

Taehyung's fingers curled around his backpack strap.

Jungkook leaned against his shoulder, sleepily humming.

Jimin sat beside them both, chin in hand.

“You guys ever wish school never ended?” Jungkook mumbled.

Taehyung blinked. “Sometimes.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Only if we get snacks all day.”

Jungkook grinned. “And Taehyung brings crayons.”

“And I get the gold one,” Jimin added.

Taehyung looked at him.

Then—slowly—opened the box and handed it over.

The gold crayon.

Jimin took it.

Their fingers brushed.

It was nothing.

It was everything.