It is the summer of ’94 and Taeyeon is five, Leeteuk is six.

“Taeyeon!” Umma yelled from the house, “What are you looking at?”

“Mianhae umma! I’ll be back in a second and explain it to you!” I replied.

At five years old, I was already able to form full sentences with perfect grammar, and umma called me the ‘smart one’. She adored me and showered me with all the love possible. But I was still extremely lonely. I had no siblings, nor did I have any friends, any real friends, other than those from kindergarten.

And guess what – or who – I was looking at? I found a new possible friend that just moved in. I didn’t know his name but I felt something special for him - that I should be his friend.

“Tae, who were you looking at? Truth, please.” Umma used her scary tone for me.

“There – there’s this –” I was saved by the doorbell. Someone rang it, and I quickly skipped up the stairs, watching from afar. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw a man in his late thirties, much like my Umma’s age, and I supposed they were… friends? I tilted my head to get a better angle.

I saw them mouthing the words, ‘Hello’, ‘Nice’, ‘Welcome’, and Umma finally said warmly – and loudly because I could hear – “Drop by anytime!” When she closed the door, I quickly ran into my room and pretended to read my book. Umma opened my room door and smiled kindly at me from the side.

When I was five I already knew what made Umma happy and what did not. Appa made her happy. I made her happy. Quarrels did not make Umma happy. Umma hated people who lied, hit, and stole. It was the house rule not to do those three things. Sometimes I did, but I couldn’t help it.

See, my bedroom was a special one, Umma said that it was the most special out of all the rooms. It faced the other house and down the sidewalk. There was a large window that I slept by, and my bed was raised a few inches so I could climb up to sit by the window without getting hurt. I would do that sometimes, because I couldn’t sleep. Umma said that I was a quiet child. I didn’t cry much, unless I was in pain, which happened very rarely because she took extremely good care of me.

Appa was always travelling and I only got to see him four times a year. One for Christmas, one for New Year, one for my birthday, and one when Umma and Appa had to get together for their anniversary. But during their anniversary, Umma would go away with Appa, and I’d stay at home, but with a nanny of course. The nanny would take care of me while she was gone. I liked nanny.

It was about evening already, and Umma sent me to my room to do some reading before dinner. Umma cared a lot about education – even when I was five. I crossed my room and put down my book on my bed. As I hoped when I climbed up to the window, I saw the boy. How much I longed to say hi to him! Umma let me out of the house sometimes, but I never went further than a few inches out of our house unless Umma, Appa or the nanny brought me out – usually to do some fitting for new clothes or a walk in the park.

That day – September 21^st, 1994, I remember the date, because I wrote little diaries – he finally noticed me while I was upstairs. He was across from me, sitting in the room. Our rooms were facing each other, and though we slept in the rooms every night, he always would shut the blinds. But that evening, I happened to see him. He was reading, like me, and he looked up.

We shared a tiny smile, and I felt my face turning hot, so I quickly drew on the curtains. I didn’t know if he did the same later, but I peeked through and saw him still looking into my room. My heart fluttered a little. Though it was a foreign feeling I’d never experienced before, I liked it.

Over the next few days, we’d – somehow – make a pact. At the same time, about five in the late evening, we would read in our rooms, and then we’d smile. Nothing happened other than that.

On October 19^th the same year, I asked Umma a question I never found the courage to ask until that day.

“Umma, may I meet him?” I asked, sitting on the chair across from her.

“Meet who, dear?” She was cleaning the table with some detergent she just bought.

“The boy from across the street.” I had refrained from saying anything more.

“Oh, Jungsu? And um, what’s his name… Jae Hwa-ssi?”

“’Jae Hwa-ssi?’” I asked.

“Yes, Jungsu is the boy you’re talking about, and Jae Hwa-ssi is his father, with a wife called Hana-ssi, and Jungsu has a sister, called In Young. She’s older than you.” She said. “Oh, and you want to meet them? Haha, of course you can, they said they’d drop by any day, they probably haven’t had the time yet.”

I nodded my head a left the table. So he was called Jungsu, In Young unnie, Jae Hwa sukbu and Hana sungmo? Jungsu sounds so old… I thought to myself as I returned to the living room to watch television. An old drama was running. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Ae Cha-ssi?” I heard someone call my mother. I peeked out the door and saw a family of four outside our door. And I saw Jungsu! I didn’t know if he was older or younger than me, but I gasped in surprise.

“Oh! Jae Hwa-ssi and Hana-ssi!” Umma replied, quickly running to open the door. I followed behind her because Umma told me that it was respect for me to greet the guests – whatever I was doing. “Oh, In Young, Jungsu. Annyeonghasaeyo, all of you. This is my daughter Taeyeon.” Umma nudged me a little and I snapped out of my trance. I bowed a full right angle and introduced myself, “Annyeonghasaeyo, Kim Taeyeon-imnida. Nice to meet you!”

“Aigoo, so cute! I am Hana, call me Hana sungmo, and this is Jae Hwa, call him Jae Hwa sukbu. My two children are Jungsu and In Young.” She said. I believed it was for my benefit because Umma already knew them before. “Umma.” In Young unnie nudged her own mother. She nodded quietly and said, “In Young needs to go somewhere right now, and I have to take her there, so please excuse me for a while.” Hana sungmo took In Young by the hand and both waved before leaving.

Jae Hwa sukbu and Umma started talking. Umma said, “Jungsu, Taeyeon, go have fun by yourselves.” Umma winked at me, and I smiled back knowingly.

“Annyeong! Your name is Taeyeon right? How old are you?”

“I am five, same as you. But I think you’re older, right? My birthday falls on March 9.”

“Oh, mine is in July. But I’m six. So, you’re younger. I think we’re going to be great friends.” He smiled, with a mischievous glint in his eye and shook my hand.