Yuri is sitting in class. She’s kind of just there. Not really listening to what the teacher’s saying. Ignoring the lame football player trying to get her attention. Unaware of the girls gossiping about her behind her back. Pretty much oblivious to everything.

               That is, except for Yoona, of course.

               Im Yoona.

               She’s one of the most popular girls in the school. Yuri’s not really sure how, since she’s not the most brilliant, the most talented, or even the most beautiful, but she still has this sort of charm to her. It’s mesmerizing. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s good at everything, even if she’s not the best?

               Yuri doesn’t know.

               She also doesn’t know why she’s staring at her best friend like this, like she’s all that exists in the world. Yuri and Yoona have been best friends since they were children. Yuri doesn’t even remember how it happened. They sort of just… clicked.

But they never act the way other best friends would. The way they talk to each other is almost as if they're strangers –never meeting each other’s eye, never fully engaging in some random or stereotypical conversation with much fervor. Yet, it's nice. Though from an outsider’s perspective it looks awkward and even uncomfortable, there's a strange comfort in it that Yuri finds, and she likes it.

And though they rarely share intimate moments, though they seldom discuss secrets about each other, it's as if they already know. They know everything about each other, every thought, every emotion, every event –almost as if they're the same person, despite being polar opposites. Maybe that’s why they get along so well; Yuri, being passive and warm, Yoona, being rash and callous.

Even though they never really spend much time together anymore, they still regard each other as their best friends. If anyone questions it, they immediately stand to the other’s defense.

Yuri is my best friend, even if she’s not a cheerleader or class president. She’s still my best friend.

Yoona’s my best friend. I don’t care. She’s still my best friend.

The difference between them is alarming, sometimes, especially to Yuri. Yoona has a way with words –she’s persuasive, vivacious, and passionate. She may be a little rougher around the edges than Yuri, a little more inexperienced, and less compassionate, but she gets out to more people. Yuri’s quiet, thoughtful, and reserved. She may not be as social as Yoona, or as much of an overachiever, but she makes good grades and has a depth of character that far surpasses other beyond-their-years peers.

Yuri doesn’t know what she wants, yet. She’s taking several classes, all with different morals and aims; most are honors, while others are not. Yoona wants everything. She’s brilliant. She’s taking almost all AP or advanced courses. She may be a year younger than Yuri, but her intelligence has permitted her to skip a grade right into eleventh grade, where Yuri is.

Despite all this, Yuri hasn’t talked to Yoona much, lately. They don’t have classes together anymore. They don’t visit each other’s houses anymore, since Yoona has other priorities and friends to attend to while Yuri likes to shut herself in her room. They don’t sit anywhere near each other in US History, the only class they do have together. Maybe a greeting or a smile in the hallways, but it’s gone a little bit beyond their already distant conversations.

Beyond Yuri’s comfort zone.

She can’t help but feel that they’ve drifted apart. It unnerves Yuri. The fact that Yoona’s gentle smiles, lingering touches, or occasional gazes make her heart race also unnerves her. Yoona has always been her best friend, her younger, immaculate friend, and nothing but that. Yet, recently, Yuri hasn’t been able to take her eyes off of Yoona, or draw her thoughts away from her. It’s driving her crazy, and she doesn’t know why.

Her parents don’t know why US History, the only non-honors subject she’s taking, seems to be the only subject she’s failing. Yuri knows the answer, though.

It seems to be one of the only things about Yoona that has an answer to it.

She sighs. She wants to believe that these strange, unnatural feelings taking shape in her heart are just a byproduct of not spending as much time with Yoona, but she knows that’s not the case. Something tells her these feelings have always been there.

“Ms. Kwon, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t stare so longingly at Ms. Im and pay attention in the only class that you’re failing, where you’re the only student failing,” Mrs. Williams reprimands Yuri, pulling her out of her Yoona-centric thoughts.

She ignores the blush burning her cheeks and the jeers from her classmates –she only has eyes for one person, and that’s the one person who’s turning back in her seat to glance curiously at her. Yoona has one poised eyebrow arched as she glances at Yuri, making her look like a goddess.  Yuri’s heart stutters when she’s met with Yoona’s gentle gaze, her sable eyes sparkling in concern, and all Yuri can focus on is how much Yoona’s eyes resemble those of a doe, and how elegant her eyelashes are.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Yuri manages to stutter with an awkward grin, and that’s how she continues for the rest of the period, ignoring the searing sensation that’s dispersing throughout her body as she tries to organize her scattered thoughts.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, and it takes everything in Yuri’s miniscule self-control to not bolt out of the classroom, face hidden safely behind her huge, unsightly hands. She sighs, leisurely packing her things into her book bag, gritting her teeth as she endures the wolf-whistles and teasing remarks that cascade her as the rest of the students file out of the classroom.

As Yuri swings her book bag over her shoulder, she notices that Yoona is standing by the doorway, slim arms crossed over her books. Yoona’s waiting for her Yuri realizes, and that thought is enough to make her brain short-circuit.

“Any day now, Ms. Kwon. I have other students to teach,” Mrs. William barks in a snarky tone, making Yuri scowl as she notices the students for next period’s class waiting outside the doorway.

She swiftly exits the classroom, though her footsteps grow more and more gradual, more and more hesitant, the closer she gets to Yoona, until she’s halted at a complete stop in front of the fifteen-year-old, eyes on the ground and ears pink.

Yuri doesn’t want to think about how amazing Yoona looks with her hair down, her bangs pulled back with a hair-tie, revealing her clear face. She doesn’t want to admire her milky-white skin, or her smooth complexion, or her petite, inconceivably pink lips that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of. She doesn’t like how even though all Yoona is wearing is a simple white cardigan, black skinny jeans, and a friendly smile, she feels the desire to pull her closer in a way that isn’t friendly at all.

Yuri swallows, trying to ignore the queer fluttering in the pit of her stomach as she raises her head to meet Yoona’s eyes for once. She’s stunned into silence, and in spite of the current of students flooding into the doorway in between them, it feels like they’re the only people in the world.

“Hi,” Yuri finally says quietly, gathering her courage.

Yoona smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear as she glances down before shyly meeting Yuri’s gaze.

“Hi,” she retaliates, and if Yuri didn’t know Yoona any better, it was almost as if she was intentionally flirting with her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

But Yoona had always been strangely suggestive without meaning to. And Yuri never knew why.

They start walking down the hallway together, side-by-side, and Yuri wonders if Yoona can feel it too –a sense of wonder, of unresolved amazement, as if completed only by the other’s presence. But she doubts it.

Yoona takes Yuri’s hand, and her heart skips a beat, her breath hitches in –but she smiles, like it’s nothing big. Like there isn’t a throb of exhilaration pulsating through her body at the unpretentious contact.

There’s this feeling of suspense, as if they’re both waiting for the other to talk, almost as if everything is waiting to be rushed, yet, at the same time, there’s a sentiment of total tranquility.

“We haven’t talked in a while,” Yuri finally says, breaking the comfortable yet uncertain silence.

Yoona simply nods.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” she agrees coolly.

Yuri waits for the inevitable question anxiously, preparing multiple responses for it, each less likely than the one before it. Anything but the apparent truth seems to be her policy, and that surprises Yuri, because she’s always been a firm believer of total honesty.

But Yoona, being Yoona, asks a question totally unrelated.

“Are you going to the Winter Formal Dance?” Yoona asks in her soft, alto voice, and it takes everything in Yuri to not gape stupidly and maintain her composure.

“I guess so,” Yuri replies, without giving it much thought.

She wants to ask why though, especially since it isn’t for another two months. She wants to ask if Yoona is going. She wants to ask everything and anything –but she wouldn’t be Yuri, if she did. Yuri doesn’t say much. Yuri can’t say much. It’s just how she is. Nothing will come out, even if she forces it –Yoona had always been the speaker of the two.

They pause, in front of Yuri’s next class, and Yuri’s watching Yoona, watching her expression change from impassive to thoughtful to conflicted, unsure of what to expect. Yoona’s quiet, not saying anything but not moving, as they stand awkwardly in front of the door, hand-in-hand.  

Yuri can feel the suspense building, her anticipation rising within her, and she doesn’t know if–

“Oh.”

And that’s all that Yoona says.

The next thing Yuri knows, Yoona lets go of her hand and smiles.

“Well, I’ll see you later, unnie,” Yoona says sweetly and leaves before Yuri has a chance to respond.

Yuri’s baffled, completely speechless –why would she even ask that? What could she possibly want to know? What did it even mean? But it’s over before it even started, and she shakes her head in defeat.

Yoona had always had an effective way of arousing questions, but she always left them unanswered.