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The sleeves of Jimin's new uniform jacket are too long. He bought it three days ago in the company of one of the pleasant but distant manager hyungs. His parents sent money for a new uniform and school supplies, had slipped a little extra in and told him to treat himself. Maybe some companies pick up these costs for trainees. All Jimin knows is Big Hit, and with Big Hit, very little comes free.He rolls the sleeves up and then unrolls them. They'll crease if he does that, and someone will probably get angry. Maybe they'll want to recycle these jackets when Jungkook goes to high school. They would have given Jimin one of Taehyung's if he'd had an extra. It's not, exactly, that Jimin thought his first day at Korea Arts High School would be some kind of resounding success, but he'd expected a little more warmth, a little more color. Butterflies in his stomach all morning, and he'd barely been able to spit out a few words of introduction when the teacher called him to the front of the class. Nobody had paid much attention when he said he was a trainee at Big Hit. None of them would had ever heard of the company, except for Taehyung already being a student, and while being a trainee might have seemed like a big deal back home in Busan, in Seoul idol wannabes are a dime a dozen. There are some JYP trainees in one of the other classes, Taehyung told him. JYP. That’s a big deal, and even they aren’t considered anything special. It's hot. A bead of sweat rolls down his back. A group of girls, giddy and laughing, traipse down the stairs beside him. He stands up, takes off his jacket, bunches it up in his arms. A tree grows beside the staircase, with dark leaves and pink flowers. Little pieces of fluff float in the still air. Drifting. Hazy heat dreams. Much too hot for September. Jimin wants to go home. But. Tonight they have practice. Every night they have practice, but tonight it's group dance practice, and Jimin needs to do well. It had been a slap in the face, coming up here and realizing how little he knew, how far behind he was. Three months and all he's figured out is how much he’s got left to learn. The front door opens again. Another happy little clique of friends on their way to the convenience store for snacks before they go to their academies."Jiminnie!" Taehyung waves, grinning wide. "Hey," Jimin says, standing up, brushing off the seat of his pants. Taehyung is with a group of his friends -- pretty girls with long hair, a handsome boy who looks like he could be an actor. Jimin is conscious of his too-long hair (He needs a cut but who is supposed to take care of that? The managers? Should he go himself? He needs to ask Seokjin hyung once he's worked up the nerve.) and his chunky glasses. "How was your first day?" Taehyung is a little guy, but he always seems full -- of laughter, of funny stories, of a weird giddy energy that makes Jimin a little nervous. "It was fine," Jimin says slowly. "Guys," Taehyung says. "This is Jimin. He's a new trainee with Big Hit. Just moved here from Busan." One of the girls laughs, hides it behind her hand. "We figured that from the accent, Tae." "Oh," Taehyung says. "Right." That smile falters for a moment, but it's back again in force. "Anyway, Jiminnie is awesome and a really good dancer." The girls look marginally more interested. Jimin smiles, but he wants to hide. Wants to smack Taehyung. Wants to shrink down into something invisible. He doesn't feel awesome at anything right now. He doesn't want to think about what those girls see. Taehyung, oblivious, slings an arm around Jimin's shoulder. He's been like this since the first day, almost, when Jimin showed up at their dorm with his two duffle bags and no clue at all what he was getting into. "We gotta go," Taehyung says, a little self-important. "Dance lessons." "Ohh," one of the girls says. "See you tomorrow, Tae," the guy says. They all wave and Taehyung waves back, too eager. He waits until they cross the street, still waving, and then steers Jimin down the stairs, arm around his shoulder.Leaning close, he whispers, "Jimin, do you have any money?" The two crisp 10,000 won notes Jimin's mother sent him are as heavy in his pocket as if they were made of gold. Lead. "Why?" he asks, hunching his shoulder to shrug off Taehyung's arm. "Because," Taehyung whispers, dramatic in that deep voice of his. "I want to go get ice cream." Jimin rolls his eyes. "We can't," he says. "We're not supposed to." Taehyung waves a hand. "Nobody follows those dumb rules," he says. "Namjoonie hyung and I got ice cream last week." When had that been? They hadn't asked Jimin, certainly. Maybe Taehyung wouldn't be asking Jimin now if he didn't intend to mooch. Still ... "I don't think we have enough time," Jimin says slowly. "Doesn't practice start at 5?" “Nah.” Taehyung shakes his head. "It got cancelled. Didn't you get the text?" Jimin hadn't. He squeezes his eyes shut. What if it was an intentional omission? What if they've decided to let him go? He knew this was coming, but he thought they might give him a little more time to catch up with the others. He thought --"Ice creammmm," Taehyung says. "Come on. We can go to Myeongdong and pick up those face masks that Hoseok hyung wanted as an excuse. Come on, Jiminnie! Let's go!" Taehyung pouts, exaggerated, lower lip trembling. Jimin rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says. "But we have to be quick. Even if group practice got cancelled, I'm going to go to the studio anyway." Down into the subway. Taehyung's been here longer but he doesn't have a good sense of direction so Jimin leads the way. The station is full of kids headed home from school, headed to academy or lessons. If Jimin had stayed in Busan, that's what he'd be doing too -- maybe heading to his dance academy with his buddies. Maybe staying late for more practice at school. Not for the first time, he wonders why he left. Taehyung is talking about his day. He likes to talk, sometimes. Not always, Jimin has noticed, but sometimes, like he’s saving up his words for the right moment, and then letting them all spill out. " -- guess it doesn't matter but I still want to do well," Taehyung says, glum. His hands -- big, like the paws of a puppy that will grow into a big dog are big -- knit together, twisting, anxious. "What?" Jimin asks. The white fluorescent lighting and the advertisements for plastic surgery are giving him a headache. "Oh," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "Nothing. It's just math. I'm going to be last in the class again." He sighs, exhaling up and blowing his bangs off his forehead. Math?"I can help you," Jimin say slowly. "Huh?" Taehyung blinks. "I'm good at math," Jimin says. He doesn't want it to sound like bragging; it's not. "I was ranked first in my class back in Busan." "Really?" Taehyung's eyes go wide. Jimin nods. "Yeah," he says. "You'll really help me?" Taehyung's voice is small, strange. Not the big, booming voice Jimin has almost gotten used to. "Sure," Jimin says, although he doesn't know why. He's only been sleeping three or four hours a night. Time is his most precious commodity right now. But then, how long would it take to help Taehyung solve some quadratic equations? Besides, if he gets kicked out today, it won't even matter. "Thanks, Jimin," Taehyung says, and then he gets weird and stares at the toes of his school shoes until they get to Myeongdong station. Jimin leans back against the seat and reads about a marvelous new technique for creating a beautiful V line face. He frowns.Big Hit hasn’t said anything about plastic surgery. Yet.It's only afternoon and the streets are still empty. Hot, too. Jimin wonders if he'll get used to that. The air is heavy here in a way that seems unfamiliar. They're not so far from the sea, not so far from the mountains, but there's not even a single breath of freshness in the air. The street sellers are just getting set up for the evening crowds. They wander in and out of the cosmetics stores, looking for the sheet masks Hoseok hyung wants. "When we make it big," Taehyung says, "maybe we'll model for Etude House." Shinee are the current models; dressed in white and pink, their handsome smiling faces beam at passersby from the window displays. "Didn't think we were going to be that kind of group," Jimin mumbles. "Maybe if they release a goth collection." "Skincare made from the tears of your enemies," Taehyung quips. Jimin snorts. "Sheet masks that look like guy from Friday the 13th." "I'm going to ask if my stage name can be Vlad," Taehyung says. "Maybe they'll let me get fang implants." Jimin looks at him -- big ears and big, trusting smile. He rolls his eyes. "Good luck, Vlad," he says. Then, more quietly, "You've been thinking about your stage name?" Taehyung shrugs, picking up a box of masks and turning them over in his hands. "Kinda," he says. "I mean, we don't really get to pick. Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung did, but that's different." Jimin doesn't know what he means, but he does: Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung are artists. They rest of them are just idols, if that. "I don't know what I'd want mine to be," he says, reaching for another pack of masks. He thinks of his friends at dance academy, the way they had called him dust as a joke, but one he'd been in on. He thinks of way his mother called him Min-ah -- her sweet, lovely boy.Jimin has always liked his name, common though it is. Now he thinks maybe a fresh start would be better. With sheet masks in hand, they head back out into the street."There's an ice cream place over there," Jimin says, pointing. "Do you want to --" "No," Taehyung says, grabbing Jimin's hand. "No, come on. Not there, Jimin." Walking fast, he leads them through the streets, through of little groups of friends wandering, through of tourists gawking, through of couples walking arm in arm. The fluorescent lights flicker like the lightning bugs used to in Jimin's back yard. He likes Myeongdong, likes to think about cozy warm evenings spent wandering the streets with his own friends. Well, this is close enough. It's not like he's got a lot of free time. Three months in Seoul and he hasn't even been to Namsan yet. The chosen ice cream vendor is set up outside of a cheesy restaurant, under a red awning. "Foot long," Taehyung says, reverently. "And it comes in six flavors." Clutching his ten thousand won bill, Jimin and Taehyung wait for the ajumma running the stand to finish serving some giggling middle school aged girls. The ice cream really is almost a foot long, twisting in a precarious spiral. "Won't it melt before we eat it?" Jimin asks, frowning. Taehyung shakes his head. "Not if you eat it fast." "I think we should just get regular ice cream," Jimin says, feeling stubborn suddenly, feeling a bit mulish. "Nah," Taehyung says. "Come on, Jimin. This one is the best. I promise you. You trust me, right?" Jimin looks at him -- funny looking, he'd thought, when they'd first met, but he's heard the way the stylists talk about Taehyung, talk about what he'll look like when he grows into his features.Nobody says that about Jimin, with good reason. Does he trust Taehyung? He's not sure, but it is only ice cream. "Fine," he says.Taehyung beams. "I'll have a chocolate and strawberry twist, please!" Jimin orders yogurt and green tea. The woman takes his money and hands him his change. Deftly, with expertise, she teases the ice cream into a ridiculous Dr. Seuss tower and hands it to Taehyung, cone wrapped in a napkin. While she makes Jimin's, Taehyung takes a big loud lick of his ice cream. There is chocolate on his lips, on the tip of his nose.Jimin snorts. "You're making a mess," he says. "Here." He shoves another wad of napkins at Taehyung. "Just wait," Taehyung says, wiping his mouth clean. "They're not so easy to eat, Jiminnie." Taehyung is right. They're not. They head off the main drag onto one of the side streets. "Wonder why practice got cancelled," Jimin says. Taehyung, who has hopped up to balance on the curb, says, "Dunno. Some meeting or something with the big boss, I bet. The hyungs will tell us later." Jimin can barely eat his ice cream for anxiety -- he's been waiting for the ax to fall -- and Taehyung is blissfully unconcerned. He's all but guaranteed to debut, from what Jimin can tell. He's heard the managers talking -- an idol group needs visuals. It's not what Jimin would pick for his own speciality, but he doesn't have anything to recommend him at all right now, so. Taehyung hops on one foot, like a kid playing a game of hopscotch. He lands badly, stumbles. The tower of ice cream tumbles -- splat -- right into the gutter. Taehyung looks down at it, blinking. "Shit," he says, blinking again. He bites his lip. His cheeks go red, and -- "Hey," Jimin says, frowning. "Don't get upset." Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm not upset," he says in a quiet, squeezed voice that Jimin hasn't ever heard before. He is upset. "It's okay," Jimin says. "Geeze, Tae, it was just --" "No," Taehyung hisses. "No, it's not. It was dumb. I wasted your money and your time and I'm always doing stupid stuff like this that I shouldn't, but it's just. It's hard, Jimin. I don't like school, and this year is going to be even worse because of how busy we are, and you showed up and you're always practicing, like, way more than the rest of us, and I know I should be doing that too but I'm not good enough, I guess. I can't make myself." He is breathing hard. Panting, like he's just run some kind of race. He won't meet Jimin's eyes. He's just staring down at the ice cream, which is melting into a brown and pink mess. For a wild, terrible moment, Jimin wants to agree. Theirs is primarily a business relationship — a rivalry, even — and in some dark shameful corner of Jimin's heart this feels like sabotage. Taehyung has wasted his time and his money and gotten him in trouble, even, maybe. He's known this kid for three months. What loyalty does Jimin owe him? But Taehyung's lower lip is still trembling. There are tears hanging on his long lashes. Sometimes anger is easier, but —"Taehyung," Jimin says quietly, the way he would if he were talking to Jihyun. "It's okay. Do you want mine?" Taehyung looks up, frowning. "Don't you want it?" he asks slowly. Jimin shrugs. "I don't really need it," he says. Taehyung's eyebrows knit. "That's a dumb thing to say." It's not. Not when the stylists still pinch Jimin's cheeks, like they take some special joy in pointing out how chubby they are."Let's share it," Jimin says. Taehyung glares at him, suddenly fierce. "Fine," he says. "Let's share.” Out of an abundance of caution, they find a bench and sit down. Taehyung is quiet still, but he takes the ice cream when Jimin offers it. “The only reason I practice so much is because I’m so far behind,” Jimin says, taking the cone back when Taehyung offers it to him. “You’re not,” Taehyung says, vehement. “You’ve only been with the company a few months. You’re doing great.” “I don’t know how to sing,” JImin says quietly. “I don’t know how to sing, and I can’t rap, and the kind of dance I learned in school is no good here, and I’m not handsome. I can fix some of those things. I’m trying to fix them.“ He hands back the ice cream cone. “You’re fine,” Taehyung says. He sound almost offended. “Jimin, you’re fine.” He hangs his head. “They’ll let you come to vocal lessons soon. I’ll make them.” Jimin huffs. “How are you going to make them?” Taehyung shrugs. “I’ll handcuff us together,” he says, puffing his chest. “Then they’ll have no choice.” It’s so absurd. Jimin laughs. “Okay,” he says. “Sure. If it comes to that.” Taehyung hands back the ice cream. It’s melty now, and the cone is getting soggy. Jimin takes a lick and hands it back. “You can finish it,” he says.Taehyung does with relish. “I wonder if the reason they canceled practice was to tell Namjoon that they’re gonna kick me out,” Jimin says. He makes his voice as small as he can. Taehyung, ice cream on his chin, frowns. “Jimin, no. That’s not it. That’s definitely not it.” Jimin shrugs. This might be it. Taehyung jumps up and starts walking down the street, resolute. “Where are you going?” Jimin calls. “We should go back to the dorm.” “Handcuffs,” Taehyung says. Jimin rolls his eyes, laughing. He gets to his feet and jogs to catch up.