*Yoongi POV*

I wandered into my next class and fell haphazardly into an empty seat in the second to last row. I opened my textbook and stared unseeingly at whatever page I'd landed on. I laid my head back, closed my eyes and sighed loudly, trying to make my disdain obvious simply so others wouldn't talk to me.

Suddenly, two very distinctive laughs pierced the hushed classroom. My eyes flew open as my head snapped up. No one else seemed to flinch, however. Apparently this was not an abnormal occurrence for the other students in the class.

"Oh my god, Hobi! Stop!" I felt my shoulders rise as my back stiffened. The obnoxious giggles that then erupted were all too familiar. It was her...that smug bitch from lunch. Seriously?! Out of all the classes possible, she was here, in mine? And right after that display in the cafeteria, no less.

I suddenly became very conscious of my posture and dropped my shoulders quickly as I put my head down. I attempted to pull every limb and muscle into themselves in my seat, trying to become as small as possible while silently screaming to not be seen. But it was futile. I heard her tell her friend goodbye, and his following questioning of it went unanswered as she climbed the steps up toward the furthest rows in the back.

I audibly groaned as she lowered herself into the seat behind mine. She chuckled in response. 'Why didn't I choose the last row instead?!' I stole a quick glance at her friend who'd been abandoned in the second row. He was watching both of us with an expression of equal parts confusion and concern.

"Heya, new kid!"

She'd told me her name less than an hour ago, but I didn't remember it. I mean, why the fuck would I? So, she'll just be 'Her' in my mind, whenever I have the misfortune of having to acknowledge her existence.

I groaned again and grit my teeth. "That is obviously not your usual seat," I said without looking at her. "Go sit down there and mind your place."

"You know, Yoongi, if I thought you were serious about that last statement, I'd be really offended. But then maybe ask you what kind of sandwich you'd like."

Her comeback was clever and I'm ashamed and annoyed to admit that it was difficult not to laugh, let alone maintain the impassive scowl on my face. But I managed to deadpan, "Gilgeori toast."

She laughed a laugh that was far too loud for the quiet classroom yet did seem genuine. Her friend in the second row whirled around in his chair, looking in her direction. Based on the still inquisitive look he gave her, yet his abrupt about face in his seat, she appeared to have just waved him off.

The teacher entered and the class quieted down. In the middle of the lesson, I suddenly felt her hot breath way too close to my ear. "What are the odds we'd have Biology together?!" she whispered excitedly. "What if we had to do a project on human reproduction or something, and got assigned as partners based on our seating arrangement?" I could hear the smug smile in her voice.

I imperceptibly shuddered. She was doing this on purpose; trying to make me uncomfortable. And to my great annoyance, it was working.

"Are you just hoping for the worst-case scenario?" I hissed. She chuckled as she sat back in her chair. I didn't even need to look at her to know she was proud of herself.

I was relieved that the teacher mentioned nothing about partners before the class ended. As I pulled my backpack onto my shoulder, I fully expected Her to dance around me and say more uninteresting and stupid things. But, to my surprise, she skipped past me without a second glance to rejoin her friend from the second row. After a brief few words, they laughed their way out of the classroom. I checked my schedule again to see what class was next and inhaled sharply. Music.

This was mom's doing, I knew. I was heavily involved in music back in my old school and city. I'd lost interest once we decided to move here, however, and mom was disappointed. She must have signed me up for this when she registered me here, in hopes I'd get involved with it again.

I'd loved music. It was my favorite thing, my comfort, my happiness. But the passion wasn't there anymore. Music no longer did for me what it used to. If I'm honest, I sometimes felt a bit empty without it. But it wasn't enough to spark my interest again. I felt empty anyway.

I begrudgingly headed toward the music classroom. Maybe I could get away with just playing some accompaniment on the piano for the choir or something. Something I could do on autopilot that didn't really require much attention.

My heart sank, however, when I entered the class. There was nothing beyond a large semi-circle of three rows of chairs surrounding a music stand in the middle of the room.

'Oh god,' I thought. 'This is the choir. I'm in the choir.'

I suddenly noticed an upright piano in the front right corner of the classroom. A bit of tension was released from my body as I recalled my earlier thought.

"Can I help you?"

I looked up. An older man was standing before me, a kind smile on his face.

I bowed politely. "I'm a new student," I explained. "My name is Min Yoongi."

"Ah, yes! I heard we were getting a new student today! Welcome! I'm the choir director, Mr. Kang."

I bowed again slightly.

"So, Mr. Min, do you sing?" Mr. Kang asked.

"Not really, honestly." And that wasn't a lie. "I've never really been trained. I think my mom signed me up for this class thinking I could play accompaniment or something."

His brow furrowed slightly. "Well, we don't need an accompanimentist. Mrs. Choi assists us there. You'll meet her soon. But, I'm sure we can find a place for you in the actual choir. And no worries about your lack of training. That's what I'm here for!" He smiled again as he patted me on the shoulder. "We'll get to hear your voice, and learn more about it, soon enough."

He then gestured toward a small group of chairs aside from the semi-circle. After he walked away, I sighed loudly for about the fifteenth time today as I sat in one of the chairs.

Dozens of other kids began piling into the music room. It appeared they already knew exactly where they needed to be as they filed into designated sections of the semi-circle. As I sat alone in the section off to the side, it suddenly became very clear to me that I was most likely going to have to sing in front of all of them, in order to figure out where I needed to be.

I lowered my head and began breathing deeply, trying my best to curb what I knew was about to happen. I tried to focus on mundane items and sounds around me, but the commotion of so many other students talking combined with random murmured singing made it impossible to differentiate any specific sounds. I panicked, looked up, and then my vision started to blur. I couldn't focus on any one thing in front of me. I dropped my head down again and felt my hands curling into fists on my thighs. It was a reflex; one I knew very well. I was hyperaware of it and tried to focus on relaxing them as some semblance of grounding, but it didn't work. My whole body began to follow suit and tensed to the point of pain. It started to become almost too much to bear and to my horror, tears sprang to my eyes, threatening to spill over.

Just as I began attempting the extremely difficult task of pulling my weight out of the chair in order to drag myself out of the situation, she entered the room. Her.

My vision was shaky, but I could make out that she was flanked by six other people, only because there were three unidentifiable but obviously human blobs on either side of her. I tried to look at them, but my brain was still refusing to concentrate. And amid all the blurriness, she was the only thing that became focused in my line of sight.

I watched her warily; I didn't want to, but I was desperate for something – anything – to help ground me. My eyes slackly followed her as she sat in the chairs furthest to the right of the semi-circle. My boggled brain briefly registered that this meant she was a Soprano.

She suddenly looked my way, as though she could feel me watching her. She met my eyes and cocked her head inquisitively. I was angry and embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, yet I couldn't look away. She had distracted me momentarily; she had grounded me. And I was frozen – at a complete loss of what to do next.

My mind barely registered the bell ringing as she quickly looked me up and down. Her eyes then flickered to the left for an extremely brief moment before returning to mine. I, however, never budged.

Before I even knew anything was happening, she'd stood and walked past me. My vision blanked in her absence. I heard echoes of murmurs behind me before I vaguely felt pressure on my right wrist. My arm lifted as, "Come with me." was whispered in my ear. I'm still not entirely sure how I did it but, with great difficulty, I pulled the entirety of my body weight up and somehow managed to walk it out of the room, led only by the pressure on my wrist.

"Breathe, Yoongi."

Unable to hold myself up any longer, I fell to my knees on a tiled floor. I could still feel my wrist being held as another body lowered itself next to mine.

"Deep breath."

I managed a shaky one.

"Now exhale." And I did.

"What do you see?"

My eyes were screwed shut. The thought of opening them terrified me. "No..."

"Okay, what do you hear?"

My breath caught in my throat. "You."

"Can you smell anything?"

"No..."

"That's okay. Is your mouth dry? How does it taste?"

I struggled to find any amount of saliva to even coat my tongue, let alone swallow anything to ease my dry throat. "I can't..." I rasped.

"It's okay, Yoongi. Don't worry about it. Just breathe."

My right arm was suddenly lifted by my wrist. My fist was gently forced open, and my hand pressed against my chest. Another hand held it in place. "Concentrate on the movement of your chest as you breathe. Focus on the feel of it, of how it rises and falls." I took a few deep breaths and did as I was told. The other hand slipped away. "I'll be right back, o – "

"No!" I panicked. "Don't leave!"

"I'll be right back. No longer than a minute. Keep your hand on your chest. Keep breathing."

I vaguely heard a door open and then close. My senses were finally starting to return, albeit painfully slowly. My eyes were still closed, though. I was afraid to open them. My head was pounding with pressure.

I don't know how long it had been before the door opened again; it could have been a few minutes, or it could have been years. I suddenly felt a hand on my back. My body tensed. "It's okay, relax, it's just me. Can you open your eyes?" I shook my head. "That's okay. Here's some water."

I finally removed my hand from my chest and reached. A bottle was placed into it. "Careful, it's open." Some of it spilled anyway, due to my trembling hand. I brought it to my lips and drank, then let out a gasp after swallowing. The bottle was taken away from me as I slumped into a sitting position, instead of remaining on my knees.

"Yoongi, you're okay." The voice said softly, right beside me. "You're safe. You're breathing normally." A hand was placed on top of mine. "Try to open your eyes."

I finally began to let the muscles around my eyes relax. I exhaled slowly as I started to lift an eyelid.

A...urinal? I blinked a couple of times. I was in a bathroom. I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Why...?"

"It was the closest place that was somewhat private."

I jumped, having momentarily forgotten that I wasn't alone. I looked down at the small hand on top of mine, then raised my head. Our eyes met and I coughed in surprise. Her. "You..."

She smiled sheepishly, but her eyes were full of concern. "I know I'm not your favorite person, but I also know what it's like to have a panic attack alone in public. I'd want someone to help me. Even if it were you." She nudged my shoulder with her own, indicating that she was teasing. I didn't know how to react; I just stared at her. We looked at each other for a couple of minutes until her smile started to falter due to awkwardness.

"Uh, so..." She quickly pulled her hand off mine, like she'd only just remembered it was there and felt uncomfortable about it. "I don't see a need for any of this to leave this room." She pushed herself off the floor. She held out her hand to help me up, but I was still so shocked that it didn't register. All I could do was wordlessly stare.

She sighed and dropped her hand. "Already back to being a hard ass, huh, Mr. Silent Type? I told you that I'll keep what happened to myself. Can you at least give me some sort of indication that you're okay now, though?" She waited a moment, then sighed again. "Come on, new kid. Work with me here."

I blinked. "Wha...?"

"There he is!" She grinned at me. "Come back to class when you're ready." She started walking toward the door but turned to me again just before opening it. "Oh and sit by Tae and pretend to think you're a Baritone so you won't have to sing by yourself in front of everyone. Mr. Kang has absolute pitch and will be able to tell if you're in the wrong section when we all sing together." And then she was gone.

'What the fuck just happened?'