If it had been a movie, I would have swept her away.

That’s what always happens in romances. I would have seen it. I would have known the warning signs and stepped in; ended it before it could get worse. She would have come and stayed with me and the guys wouldn’t have minded because friends always have your back in movies. We would have hidden her from manager hyung and she would have helped us, gone out to her classes when she needed. And then come home, to our dorm, where it was safe. And we’d fall for each other in that way that best friends do. With laughs that linger and side relationships that bruise hearts and kisses that you barely feel but tingle all the same. All Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan and witty lines.

But life isn’t a romantic comedy or a drama. I was months away from realizing my feelings for her at that point and I was too young and scared to save myself much less her.

It took me a while to understand the entire situation. At first I believed her stories. Bruises from barre work, scratches from falling asleep with a cocktail ring on, a busted lip from trying to dance on an over-polished floor. To be fair, some of them were creative.

Then I started to realize that bars don't look like handprints and it seemed wholly unsafe that a prestigious dance school would allow their janitor to over-polish a floor at least once a month with no repercussions.

Honestly, I had almost thrown up. The bile rose and I felt acid burning at my esophagus.

My mother had always cherished my brother and I. She doted on us, worried about us. She loved us more than anything in the world. That’s what a mother’s love was. Unconditional, gentle and protecting. So the thought of my best friend’s mother getting drunk and hurting her just because made me want to march over to their home and shake that woman until she could make a sorry excuse for herself.

I cried a little, all alone on my bed after the others had gone to sleep. Minho had heard me, or maybe felt me since his bed was below mine. When he asked if I was okay, I just said I missed my brother. That seemed to be explanation enough and after a soft pat to the knee I was left alone to my tears and abhorrence.

I had wanted to save Jiyeon then. I wanted to run to her home at that ungodly hour, wrap her tight in my arms and never let her go; never let another person near her again. Jiyeon was so smart, so sweet and beautiful and kind. It broke my heart to think of someone hurting her and it also, selfishly, stung a little that she hid it from me. If it had been a movie, I would have gone to her without thought.

Instead, I fell into a fitful sleep and only the next day after schedules were over did I go find her, held her just as I wanted to. She cried and cried and cried. After that, she called me every time her mother yelled at her or raised a hand to her. And I was always there to listen, no matter where I was or what I was doing.

Maybe I never swept Jiyeon away. Maybe I never saved her and took her to another place, far away from everything that hurt her.

But I was there for her every moment; for every thing she needed, for every tear she shed. I was an anchor instead of a sail.

And maybe that was better after all.

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Hello, all! Another one shot. This one pre-end of YSOMS, in fact if you remember what I said in the other story about Taemin realizing he liked Jiyeon, this is when they were about 16 years old.

I'm back in the US now, done with all my traveling throughout Asia. I'm going to keep working on my Onew story, as well as a Minho AU hippie story I started a while back. No idea when those will come out as I plan on engaging in self study this summer.

Please let me know what you think!!! Thanks so much for reading. =]