They once asked me what friendship was about. I couldn’t answer that question well, but when asked what true love was, I answered immediately, “Being happy for that person in any way she can.”

I didn’t expect you to befriend someone like me. No, I didn’t at all. We were opposites, clearly, truly. There was no way we could interact without the urge to pull your hair out and hold you by your collar. Fights were frequent in our dorm, large ones where the both of us would end up crying and crawling into one another’s arms and sleeping it off till tomorrow, when we forgave each other easily and immediately.

It was against morals, against beliefs and most importantly, was heavily discriminated among the public masses. It would do more than harm our relationship; it would bring down everyone in Girls’ Generation as well. It would bring down our reputation and would harm our success. I couldn’t afford that. I couldn’t afford to disappoint my newly-found sisters who have worked so hard just to get here. All the sleepless nights, the exhaustion, both mentally and physically, and our constrained privacy which I dearly missed. It couldn’t go to waste just like that. It couldn’t go to waste just because I had a strange, strong, uncontrollable attraction to my best friend. I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

But then, I stare at you from afar and wonder if I had done so, would it be worth it? Would it be worth risking the name of our group to be with you? Would I dare to try the odds and hope they don’t go against me? That still didn’t explain why my heart would pound irregularly when you reach out for my wrist and the greenish veins there. I turned down nearly every sleepover unless you really needed it. Like, for example, during the holidays, when you had nowhere to return to and was alone in the dorm, or during mother’s day, when everyone else was busy texting their mothers and proclaiming their love for their mother and you were sitting quietly in the corner, trying to find something to do with the phone in your hands.

“You can always call me, you know,” I approach you, a smile playing at the corner of my lips.

“I don’t see the point,” you say.

My smile was contagious, I knew that. You once told me that it was rare, and when it happened, it really lit up your world and probably the hearts of many fans. Genuine smiles like those made me seem even more special, you said.

“You should smile more often. Most of the time, you’re just zoning out.”

I shrug indifferently. I smile only for you.

It was our turn to perform, a new song, a new dance routine which we have spent early mornings and late nights to. You lost your balance and fell, hitting the ground hard. There were grimaces and feeble attempts to get up. I went over, temporarily forgetting the many eyes on us, and lift you up.  Sunny gripped your shoulder before going straight into the dance again, so I pulled you to my side and danced, though I tried to be slightly flimsy and uncoordinated in my steps to comfort you and try to avert the other’s eyes onto me instead. You were grimacing and wincing, trying hard to keep that straight face as you continued to dance. I put on a smile and went on, pretending to be unaffected. Of course, I was.

Again, during a performance of Tell Me Your Wish (Genie), you fell again. This time, I was there to pick you once more. I didn’t realise that Taeyeon was done with her part and the brief dance interval was nearly over, moving onto my part now. All I saw was you, on the floor. I picked you up again and checked to see if you were alright, nearly missing my part. Fortunately, the back-up vocals were there to cover up the brief delay.

At the waiting room, when all of us had changed into comfier clothes, you went over to me and grabbed my wrist, as you always did.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

I could say that I miss you. Even now, with our different schedules and hectic life, I rarely ever saw you before the performance itself. When I was back at the dorm, you were abroad and when you had returned, I had to leave for photo-shoots and invitations to variety shows. We barely talked, only a ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘thanks’. I wonder if we had drifted, if it was in any way possible, apart. I wonder if someone else had replaced me as your best friend.

“Is there something wrong?” the PD asked me, realising that I had fallen silent after some time.

“No, I’m fine. Carry on,” I assure him and he nodded.

I thought of the many possibilities we had that night, while you were attending a fashion show in London. I could wait, after fifteen years was over. I could just do it secretly. But what if someone found out? What if no one finds out? What if I get away with it?

It wasn’t very likely. You were a believer, with strong faith that I didn’t dare to shake and morals I didn’t want to break. There was a gentle rapping at my door and I opened it slightly, not wanting to wake Sooyoung up. You were there, smelling of scented towels of the plane and a taxi cab.

“Is Sooyoung in there?” you whisper, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping.”

I would admit to being jealous. Why was Sooyoung the one you ask for?

“Do you want to…sleepover my room tonight?” you grab my wrist again and unconsciously, your fingertips start to trace the veins there.

“I have a photo-shoot early in the morning,” I say and your lips jut out in a pout.

“It’s only for the night.”

“True love is being happy for that person in any way she can.”

“I can’t, sorry.”

Maybe it was best if we weren’t best friends.