She's too young.

That was your first thought when you found out that Yerim would be added to the group.

Sixteen years old and fresh-faced, Yerim was determined to show the world what she could do; it's what she's trained for and this was her chance.

But she's too young.

You repeat this in your head whenever you see her get ready for school in the mornings, knowing that she'll meet with the rest of you after her classes are over. (You take one look at her in her uniform and try to smile, but you know that the modest uniform consisting of a standard button-up shirt, tie, blazer, and skirt will become a shorter bright stage outfit, possibly baring her midriff for all the world to see.)

You repeat this in your head whenever you see her collapse into a pile of sweaty limbs after a long dance practice, knowing that any other average teenager would be hanging out with their friends. (Not spending their time dancing for three hours trying to perfect a routine.)

You repeat this in your head whenever you find her up late at night determined to finish her homework, because the younger girl knows the importance of getting an education despite the fast-paced career she works. (This makes you proud, knowing that she still tries to implement some normalcy in her life when you both know that neither of you have lived normal lives the minute you both debuted.)

You repeat this in your head whenever you find her having her rare, sudden bouts of sadness when she misses her family. (Nobody — a child no less, she's still a baby — should be away from their family for so long, you know this well.)

You repeat this in your head whenever you see or hear hurtful words and cruel comments about her that you pray she'll never see. (But she does because, who doesn't, and in this industry it was bound to happen but that doesn't mean it should because she's SIXTEEN damnit and people shouldn't be this mean, to a teenager no less.)

(You nearly snapped during one of the group's Naver V broadcasts when a netizen commented one of the most vile things you've ever seen written about another human being, but she saw it too and the cameramen were still recording so all you could do was feel helpless on the inside as you tried to brighten the mood, which was hard when you could clearly see that her mood dimmed drastically.)

Kim Yerim was too young for this industry. You feel the same way about the other young tweens and teens who entered this field hoping to achieve their dreams of becoming world-class stars on huge stages at sold-out venues. You know that their childhood or whatever's left of it is being taken from them with each passing day of training, and they're probably too blinded by the thought of stardom to realize it. But you were like them too, still are actually. After all, it's why you auditioned in the first place — to become an artist that could bring people together with music and your voice.

Yerim is no different.

Honestly speaking, Yerim always manages to surprise you and prove you wrong whenever you think she's too young.

Because whenever she changes from her simple school uniform into her stage outfit, you find that she makes them work to her advantage, that she still retains her youthful image that no short or provocative outfit could strip her of because it radiated from her.

Because whenever she collapses into a sweaty pile of limbs onto the practice room floor, she's still smiling and laughing, her love of performing never wavering despite the exhasution.

Because whenever she stays up late to finish her school work despite the full schedule the next day, you realize later that her efforts paid off for she brings home papers with high marks. (You take them from her backpack when she isn't looking and put them on the fridge for everyone to see because you believe that her hard work should be recognized; she smiles when she finds out what you did; Joohyun unnie only wonders why she didn't think of it first.)

Because whenever she misses her family, she'll cry her heart out before looking at the rest of the group when she's done, a content look on her face, before saying, "But I have my family here, too, so it's okay." (You all cooed at this and engulfed her in your embrace, her bell-like laughter ringing from the middle of the group hug.)

Because whenever she reads cruel comments about herself, you expect her to react — to cry, yell, get angry, or lock herself in her room — but she doesn't; instead she lets them fuel her determination to prove people wrong, to work even harder, wanting to bring happiness to people and refusing to let some cowards online get in the way of her going for her dreams. (She's professional. Young, but professional, you realize this now.)

As you look back on these reasons, you find that you proved yourself wrong. Well, partially. Yerim had her own role in it, of course.

See, Yerim may be young, but not too young. And for someone like Yerim, age doesn't get in the way of her going after what she wants. She wants to be a singer, so she'll work for it. (But if Yerim decides that she wants a boyfriend, then that's where you have to draw the line because no, just no. Not your Squirtle.)

It's in Yerim that you see that age doesn't define a person's maturity level. It doesn't determine their lot in life. It doesn't distinguish their experiences from someone else's. Because people, whatever age they may be, determine their path in life themselves.

Yerim just happened to find hers before others.

So although, to the world, she'll always be Red Velvet's Hello Kitty loving Squirtle Yeri, to you she'll forever be Kim Yerim, the young girl you watched grow into a beautiful young adult who you're thankful to be in a group with and had the fortune of meeting.

You wouldn't want it any other way.

"Unnie! What are you thinking about? You had a strange look on your face again!" Speak of the young devil.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing. C'mon, unnie will treat you to some ice cream."

"And ddeokbokki!"

You laugh, nodding at her demand.

"And ddeokbokki."

There was nothing wrong with being young.

Yerim taught you this.