You met Jungkook on your first day of kindergarten and you've been best friends ever since. As years pass, you both find yourselves making promises you stake your entire friendship on... until things get complicated and don't seem to turn out the wa...
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Year 5
You squeeze your stuffed bunny as hard as your little hands can muster as you nervously peek out of the car window. The uncomfortable booster seat your mother purchased from a secondhand store does little to calm your nerves as does her mindless chatter into the phone tucked in between her shoulder and her right ear. She parks in front of a house you don't recognize and for a moment you're filled with excitement at the possibility of her forgetting that you are in the car with her again to evade hell.
Until the car door cracks open and she stands there with your bumblebee backpack thrown over one of her shoulders.
"Let's go, Y/N," she says after you send her a couple of blinks. You click off your seatbelt and begin to make your exit. "You can't take Bunny to school."
Your heart drops as you stare into the black doe eyes of your beloved companion and tears dance along the edge of yours. You make the mistake of looking back at your mother and to your surprise she takes enough time away from her phone call to notice you.
"Come on, Y/N!" She snaps, fueling your internal torment, "don't be the kid that cries on the first day, let's go!" She tugs your arm and in the midst you drop Bunny, only catching one last glimpse of his white fur before your mother slams the door.
"Mommy," you cry out as she now drags you across the street, paying you or your cries for help no mind. A single tear runs down your left cheek as she leads you towards the school. If it were not the last place you wanted to be, it would seem as inviting as the outside would want you to believe. The gates were sky blue as were the roofs while the rest of the buildings were a pure white. There was a mural of a rainbow with a ring of children surrounding it that read something you could not read. "Mommy," you cry out again, hoping the lack of whine in your tone will capture her attention better.
"What?"
"What does the picture say?" You point at the colorful mural, grateful for the distraction.
"It's not about what it is, it's about what it can become," she monotonously reads.
You scrunch your nose in confusion. "What does it mean?" Turning your head towards her, you are met with no response when she goes back to her conversation with the device. Pondering the words as your short legs attempt to keep up with your mother's lean ones is enough to keep you from remembering where you both are headed.
At least until you enter the gates and the realization hits you like a brick. The courtyard is filled with children of various ages, some who look as terrified as you, some who throw full on tantrums, and some who loudly giggle with their friends. They all manage to simultaneously instill fear into your little heart.
