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 12 (she's a long one but i promise it's worth it hehe)
"Grandmaaa, I can do my own hair," you whine, your arms tightly crossed in front of your chest. You watch through the mirror as your grandmother ruthlessly brushes through your hair, bunching it all in one hand before spinning it into a tight bun. It feels as if your face is being pulled back and you can't suppress the scoff that leaves your lips. Though almost blind and deaf, she catches your attitude and pulls your hair tighter making you wince.
"I don't wanna hear it, Y/N. It's your last year before high school and I want a decent picture of you before you go rebellious on me." Her voice, even when scolding you, is as smooth as silk, juxtaposing how she mercilessly stabs pin after pin into your hair.
"But I look so ugly," you whimper, hating how you can no longer hide behind the security blanket that was your hair.
"You look poised and polished. Stop fretting and go grab your backpack, you need to be at that bus stop in five minutes." She wobbles out of the bathroom, still dressed in her peach robe and you take the opportunity to assess your new look. You scowl at the pain now emerging in your head. It had only been a year since Grandma had cut it down to your shoulders and it has already grown this long. And the green plaid skirt you thought you had hidden in the depths of your messy drawer and the matching polo shirt did nothing but add to your dismay. When you, Jungkook, and Jimin had found out that the only middle school nearby had a zero tolerance uniform policy, you'd all debated on just skipping the next few grades altogether. The only reason any of you tolerated it, is because everyone who went there was just as miserable about it as you three. But nonetheless, you are excited about leaving the wretched school and starting a new chapter next year.
High school.
"My love, the bus!" Your grandma shouts, snapping you out of your thoughts as you race for your yellow backpack by the front door. She walks over to you and gives you your usual goodbye kiss before you look over at the tan pleather couch with longing eyes. Your mother softly snores, unaffected by any of the events happening around her. Without a second of hesitation, because you know how that will end, you dart out the door.
The cool morning breeze flows through your bare skin and up your skirt, causing your usual run to the bus stop to be much slower than normal. Jungkook lazily leans on a pole until his eyes land on your awkward form trudging down the sidewalk, your hands pushing the flimsy piece of fabric down. His eyes trail to your legs and he stiffens, trying to recount the last time he's ever seen any body part of yours besides you arms, and that was just to compare who had the most hair.
"Oh," you wheeze, placing your hands on you knees as you crouch next to him, "thank God I made it."
It is then that he notices the ball of hair firmly sitting on the back of your head, unlike your usual tangled mane that he and everyone at school is used to.
