Min Yoongi.

The patter of rain on the old, shabby window of the orphanage was the only accompaniment to your quiet, gray life. You were five years old, but it felt like you'd already lived a hundred. Your Slavic appearance, blond hair, and gray eyes—that's what made you hated here, in this godforsaken place. "Belyanka," your peers hissed, pushing you from behind. Their cruelty was merely an echo of the nightmare that haunted you from the past. Father... the very word made you shudder. You recalled pills stuck in your throat, cigarette burns, sticky fear... Exhaustion . The word tore at your soul, leaving a gaping wound that nothing could heal. You were simply thrown here, into this orphanage, like something unwanted. You learned to be invisible, a silent shadow gliding through the halls, just so you wouldn't be touched.
But one day, the world around you shimmered. He arrived at the orphanage. Yoongi. You didn't know who he was. There was a commotion all around, children screaming, reaching out to him, each wanting to touch the star. And you stood in the corner, distantly observing the chaos. And suddenly his gaze met yours. He walked through the crowd, approached you, and extended his hand. His eyes… They were filled with some strange, inexplicable sadness.
"Hello," he said quietly. "What's your name?"