It all started when we first met - on an eighteen hour drive to New York. She had strawberry blonde hair that curled, tied in this twin braid that surprisingly suit her considering her age (seventeen).

I was twenty then. Having graduated from university, I found a job there and couldn't wait to get started. She was looking for a new life. I didn't understand at that time, since when I arrived to pick her up, she was incessantly making out with an old friend of mine. She refused to listen to me when I raised the discussion of our driving schedule, constantly telling me to relax, but it only served to annoy me as I couldn't wait to arrive as soon as possible. She ate her burger and fries with her hands when stopped for a short break and I thought it was disgusting…

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Until she complimented me and I thought she was utterly revolting - flirting despite being attached to my friend.

But she was my only friend in New York, so I sucked it up and dealt with it. Funny thing was that we never kept in touch. Seeing as she was flirting with perpetually anyone, I didn't want to be in her way. So the next time we met, I didn't expect it at all.

Five years after graduation, at the airport, I almost couldn't recognise her. She told me she was going home - she was getting married. It was shocking, considering the five years before, she was flirting left and right. Genuinely happy for her, I congratulated her on her success on finding someone that made her happy and wished her all the best. She told me that wasn't what marriage was for, and it puzzled me. But I didn't ask too many questions, busy bracing myself for a presentation upon arriving home. The company was expanding their business and I took the opportunity to visit home for a bit. Despite me not poking into her business, she shared anyway. She told me about her sexual adventures in New York which I had missed out on listening to when we never remained in contact, and revealed to me that she didn't even want to get married.

It peaked my interest, but she didn't explain further.

It made me wonder about myself, should I start looking for a relationship, or maybe not at all. I was turning twenty-five in November and have yet to be in a single relationship, yet sitting beside me in the plane, was a junior three years younger, with countless partners.

Why was that?

She told me I was attractive, then why hadn't anyone made a pass at me?

The next time we met, she called me. Eleven months after her marriage.

She was bawling over the phone and saying something about divorce. It turned out that she was back in New York. I was ecstatic to hear such news as having an old friend, despite not ever calling each other ever, made New York a tinge less lonely. But I kept quiet and listened to her ramble and rant about her unmendable relationship. We decided to meet up after my job since she was jobless and had all the time in her world to spare.

When I saw her, she looked the same, except her fashion sense, of course. Always kept up with the trends, Anna wore a plaid shirt over a yellow tank and jeans. But her braids I used to admire was a mess and her fringe was all over the place. Although she had visibly lost lots of weight since I last saw her, her body somehow managed to maintain their muscular build. I couldn't deny that she was attractive and wondered why her wife divorced such a catch.

She was surprisingly much less unpleasant than before. She was more willing to listen to me when I spoke, and she was extremely attentive. She told me about her wife and how she had found someone else. And even though she knew she never loved her, for some reason, the heartbreak was still evidently present. It was puzzling to her, but I thought it was simply because she had lost someone she was simply accustomed to having around literally every single day.

We started to hang out more and more, and our classmates started questioning our relationship, asking if we were friends with benefits, or something. I understood where they were coming from since Anna had a reputation of sleeping around back in our neighbourhood. Nevertheless, I was still disgusted by how offensive they were when talking about us so I shrugged them off, talked to them less and less.

Six months after her recovery, she said it again.

"You're beautiful, you know that, right?"

"Yes, you've told me that before." I replied this time. Now that we were friends, I knew she wasn't making a flirting with me, but was simply giving me a sincere and honest compliment.

"So why aren't you with someone?"

I didn't know, so I didn't reply.

"I'll find someone for you."

Grateful, I replied likewise, "you should get out there too, Anna."

With much reluctance, she agreed.

Two weeks later, we set each other up with a colleague we thought would get along with each other, spent an hour before our double date preparing our friends. I needed to remind her constantly because she couldn't seem to remember every time I tested her that Anna was allergic to peanuts, and that she doesn't like alcohol and loves orange juice and not to offer her alcoholics. I had to constantly test her to be sure that my colleague knew what to talk about to capture Anna's attention so they could ensure a smooth conversation.

But it was all for naught.

My colleague ended up falling deeply in love with Anna's, and Anna's colleague head over heels over mine. They were so blinded by each other they didn't even try to conceal their blatant attraction for each other when their dates were someone else. She didn't even try to compliment the blue sleeveless dress Anna wore - and I picked, so I knew she put in a major effort to impress. It hugged her hips so well and revealed her tanned and toned arms I couldn't comprehend how my colleague could've been so rude as to not even say anything nice about it.

We laughed it off, said maybe we didn't need anyone but each other. Besides, who else knew exactly how I liked my eggs done? Nobody except her knew why I no longer kept in touch with anyone else from home, not even my parents. Only Anna knew about the dog I raised in New York that passed on recently and how depressed I was about Olaf's death and how much I cried about it - nobody except her even knew my dog existed.

And likewise, nobody knew of Anna's secret envy towards me of having owned a dog. Nobody understood Anna's fear of the stigma of being a divorcee. Nobody understood why Anna came to New York, or why she took up softball. Nobody accommodated to her allergy to peanuts and distaste towards alcohol.

Only Anna understood me then, vice versa. That, was what I believed, all I needed.

A month after, she found someone.

I couldn't stop nitpicking. Back then, I thought it was my duty. After all, as a best friend (yes we declared each other best friends), I needed to make sure her partner was the best out there for her. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure how or why Anna dated that person. She was five years older than her, drinks on her off days, hated sports, and baked for a living, and Anna didn't even like pastries!

To my surprise - not really - they broke up. Their fights during their five months relationship accumulated so much anger in both of them it grew into hate.

She called me late at night the moment she hung up on her ex-lover then. My heart sank a little but soared even more. I ran over as soon as we hung up to comfort her.

When I arrived, she was by the door with a kleenex box in hand, empty. I got a new one from her store room and returned to her room where she began her ranting. With every sentence she spoke, was another complain about how her partner was unfair or difficult. I waited two seconds after every time she broke down again because that was how long it usually took before she sniffed a second time and could breathe properly.

One thing lead to another, all of a sudden, I spent the night.

"You're really, really, beautiful, you know that?"

I nodded as she pressed her lips against the back of my neck multiple times. While she left to pour us both a glass of water, everything was going haywire in my head and I didn't know what to do.

She caught me when I was putting on my cardigan and asked, "are you leaving?"

Her face fell when I told her that I had to and this was all a mistake.

I didn't love her, I lied to the both of us. But in fact, I was simply afraid of the truth: I did.

I had fallen for my one and only friend. My best friend.

The next few days I tried contacting her again, but she never answered the phone. I called and called regardless. Thrice a day sometimes, twice a day when I was busy. I gradually reduced my calls - if she didn't want me to bother her, I shouldn't. Soon, it became one call per week.

But I couldn't help it.

I missed her, so much.

I missed watching her cook me sunny side up eggs with pepper only on the egg yolk. I missed leaning against her by the sidewalks as we watched time pass by. I missed exchanging books that she would never finish reading. I missed our movie nights where we would talk all night on the phone about the poor acting or lousy storylines. I missed her presence.

She didn't even wish me a happy birthday.

Nor did she wish me a happy new year.

I hadn't called her for two full months.

Her birthday was coming (Six of March) and I couldn't decide for the life whether or not I should wish her one.

Maybe it was better if I didn't, I thought, since I was the one who ruined everything between us, I didn't deserve it.

Despite all that, on the night of her birthday, somehow, I found myself sitting outside her apartment with a gift - a German Shepherd named Marshmallow - unable to enter. The doorbell was right there, the key was right under the carpet, the window was diagonally right and above it and I could literally see everyone celebrating inside.

Until Marshmallow barked. And he didn't stop until a crowd formed in the windows.

Anna's head popped out for a split-second. When our eyes met, she disappeared. In that split-second, all my fears disappeared. Everything possibly bad that could have happened, all the balancing of pros and cons of all possible things I could do and all their consequences, was immediately hands down beaten. Nothing could be worse than actually losing Anna.

And I ran.

Around the entire block of buildings with the barking German Shepherd to the back door of her block. When I caught her, she flung my arm away but Marshmallow bit onto her boot so she couldn't leave.

"Good boy," I said.

"What's this doing here?" She glared.

"He's your birthday present."

"Go away, Elsa." Her eyes remained on the dog, glaring daggers at it. She refused to meet my eyes and her stuttering and panting gave it all away.

Without a second thought, I pulled her into an embrace and I wouldn't let go no matter how hard she punched and tried to push me away. It hurt a lot (her days in softball were no joke), but I knew she was in greater pain than me.

And I deserved it.

I could feel all eyes on me from behind and Marshmallow started whining at all the whispering. It cowered behind us when Anna gave up and finally stood still to listen to what I had to say.

"You're beautiful too, you know that?"

"So?"

"And I love you."

"It was mistake, Elsa. You said it yourself."

"What I said was a mistake. I would take it all back if I could. I love you. I love everything about you. I love that you listen attentively to everything that I have to say. I love that you keep in mind the little nitty-gritty things I pick on in my food. I love that you let me lean on you and stare into the sky together to pass time. I love that you play softball to impress others, and I am. I love that you, despite being scared, have the courage to get out there again and look for a lover. I love that you are stubborn and don't return my calls because we both know I am in the wrong. But I am sorry for all that, and I love you."

Anna looked up at me, her eyes watery and red, her lips bitten so harshly to hold back her cries. Her hold onto my coat tightened and she headbutted me. Mucus slipped onto my clothes but I tried not to care. Anna was more important than any strip of clothing in this world. "I hate you, Elsa. I hate that I can't hate you."

When her hands wrapped around me, my heart skipped a beat. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much." She repeated, her voice still shaky from crying, after wiping all the fluid onto my shirt and looked up.

I waited two seconds and when she sniffed, I pulled her by her chin and pressed my lips against hers. Her breath was so warm her cheeks were practically emitting heat. Her eyes watered again and she broke into a soft cry this time.

"You're still so beautiful, you know that?"

"Mmm…"

A/N: A/N: This was so difficult, I have zero idea what I'm doing, how I wrote this, or anything whatsoever. In case you guys couldn't figure it out, this was kind of based on When Harry Met Sally, but since the characters are different, I figured the story might turn out different. Ultimately, they both started out from a trip to NY with no understanding of love and I tried really hard to end it similarly but yeah. I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway.

Note: I never realised the movie had a famous quote until my friend told me about it so I didn't include it. OTL