"I look like a , not a witch," I complained, tugging on the hem of my dress. It was short enough to let my garters peek out from underneath the skirt, and made of a material that felt, for all the world, like actual velvet. 

"Are you certain that you know what a is?" Jung Ah asked.

"Either a or a , I still feel like it's a shortcut to my underwear."

Jung Ah frowned. "Must you complain about everything?"

"Not everything. I haven't complained about the concept of the video- it fits the song. I didn't complain about the choice of song to use for my introduction to the United States- It already had lots of English lines, so it was easy to translate, and it had a pop/rock-like beat that would be familiar to the American audience. I haven't complained about the increased harshness of my schedule as i prepare for this comeback. I haven't complained about the diet I've been put on, as much as you know I hate diets. But I don't want to come back to my home country and have people see every artist that comes from South Korea as a . That's what everything in America is. Girls not wearing very much clothing. I never understood that. Where I'm from, you cover yourself as much as possible. It's too cold to wear short skirts. I just don't want to wear things that don't even show who I am as a person."

Jung Ah gave me a really long look, and then she sighed. "Alright, go change into the longer one. Then come back out here so we can do your hair and makeup."

I smiled, happy that she'd conceded. But as I turned around, she called out after me.

"Minsung, you have a lot of pride. Do you know that?"

"I know."

"Are you sure you don't want to make the sacrifice?"

"If I get fans in America, I want them to be fans for the same reasons that I was a fan of SuJu. I want them to be fans because they like my music, and they respect me. If I can't respect myself, then how can I earn theirs?"

Jung Ah smiled a little, and then waved me into the changing room.

I have to say, after hair and makeup was done, I still looked freakishly awesome. The dress was tight to the curves of my chest and hips, and had a long split down the side, but I actually liked that. I don't know why. My hair was parted to the side, falling to the left of my face in a curtain of blonde curls, while my eyeliner was thick, dark, and yet oddly cool-looking, and I wore a dark purple lip color that made my already full lips look even larger.

I took the bottle of water that Jung Ah held out to me, and then the fan that someone else was holding out. I drank out of the water bottle with one hand, fanning myself with the other.

"Hurry up, Minsung! You have to move on to the next costume!" Jung Ah urged. The cool thing about the concept of the music video was that I got to dress up as "black magicians" from different cultures. And look pretty freaking beautiful while I did it. But most of that was makeup.

"My hair's going to be a wreck by the end of this," I muttered, then went to go change on her insistence.

One costume was that of a Japanese spirit-conjuror, so I got to wear a simplified black and purple kimono and a black wig. It looked weird to me. And, of course, I just had to take about a thousand selcas.

Then there was the Korean shamaness, which was harder to put into a somewhat seductive costume, and then Slavic, and South American... I guess the idea was "no matter you go, you can't escape my spell". I thought it was pretty cool, at least.

I finally left the set, once again feeling exhausted, but I'd taken a nap while they were changing sets, and had been snacking on dried apple slices all throughout the filming, in addition to bringing a supper of rice and grilled fish. 

And right then I had a cup of yogurt, and was off the top. I still had my makeup on, so my eyes were still ringed with eyeliner, and my complexion still even more pale than usual, but I didn't really care. It was time for sleeping.

Then it was performance time. Jung Ah had explained it as "goodbye promotions for the last few weeks in Korea." So I was performing the original, Korean version of the song for the various music shows.

In the van, I plucked my ukulele strings and worked to match my voice to its notes. Jung Ah's eyes slid over to me.

"We haven't even begun the promotions for your newest single, and you're already working on a new song?"

I grinned, then shook my head. "No. I was just thinking of doing a cover of Henry's 'I Would' during one of my concerts when I'm on tour."

I plucked the strings again, singing the first few lyrics. 

"No one has ever broken me like you did.
No one I ever wanted more... than you...
Nobody else could make a man..."

I trailed off, frowning. "I might have to tweak a few of the lyrics. Minor. They're just single words."

Jung Ah rolled her eyes. "Can you focus on your performance, please? You know, the one you're doing TODAY?"

I laughed, then put the ukulele back in its case. "Nae, Eonni."

 "No, Fishy, I'm not letting you have any of my cheese," I scolded, leaning against the wall. We'd be doing our rehearsals for the performances that day soon, but I had a couple minutes to answer Donghae's phone call while they did sound checks. 

"None at all?"

"That has to last me until I go home to Wisconsin, so yes."

"But... I'm hungry. And Ryeowook won't be home until late..."

"Don't you have an Ahjumma to cook for you, though?" I asked, noticing that the stage hands were signaling to me that the sound check was over. I waved to tell them that I would be there as soon as I finished the call.

"Can you make me some of that Spaghetti? Please?" Donghae pleaded, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"If you're paying for the ground beef, then fine."

"Really?!"

"But only if you come to my performance tonight," I teased. I don't know why I'd suddenly decided on that. 

"I'll be there," he replied, surprising me. I hadn't been serious.

"Wait, you're actually coming?"

"It's not a problem. I get to eat your food!"

I laughed. "You're all such gluttons. Alright, see you then."

"Thank you, Minsung-ah!"

I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone, then went onstage to practice. 

I checked the mic, then positioned myself. I was keeping the volume at minimum for the practice performance- I didn't want to wear out my voice. 

Unfortunately "Black Magic" wasn't exclusively a rock song, so there was... yes, dancing, involved. Fortunately the company had decided to focus on my vocals instead of the dance, so it was fairly simple. There was only one part at the end that was really high-energy. Not really difficult, just high-energy. 

We paused in the center of the song for a camera placement issue, and then re-did the song. I got to the last verse, and the final set of moves came up. I planted my left foot and spun my right around, intending to swirl into the final "magic" pose that the song required.

My foot swung into a loose cord. It hooked under it, and I tumbled forward.

I was too close to the edge of the stage. With my foot still tangled in the cord, I crashed off of the edge of the stage, landing onto the ground with my free leg still underneath me. 

With a flash of white-hot pain, my leg slammed into the ground.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even think. There was nothing but the pain. I clenched my fists so tightly that they hurt, and though I could almost hear my vocal cords vibrating, I didn't hear the cream of pain coming from my lips. I blinked the spots away from my eyes, and the bubble exploded. Suddenly I heard a rush of sound, like a sudden wave of sound.

Footsteps running toward me. The harsh cutting-off of my background music. Someone yelling to call 119. 

I had to get back onstage. I had to see what my leg looked like. 

The pain was screaming through my entire body. But I shifted from on top of the leg, so I could reach out and put pressure on the different bones of my left leg. Femur, fine. Patella, fine. Tibia, fine. Fibula...

I screamed again, jerking my fingers away.

I felt arms around me, trying to help me up. I pushed them away, gripping the edge of the stage to pull myself up. I didn't need somebody's help just to stand up. I was stronger than that. I'm a Wisconsin Girl. I was taught how to stand on my own, no matter what.

I untangled the cord from my right leg, and then stretched it out and slowly pulled myself up so my weight was resting on it.

"Minsung-ah!" 

I turned and looked right at Donghae. He must have just gotten there. He was still wearing his jacket, and was barely even able to sit still. So he'd been the one who'd been trying to help me to my feet.

"Here, lean on me," he says, But I clenched my teeth and began to move forward. I gripped the edge of the stage, waiting for the pain to fade. It didn't, not really, but I think my determintion increased. I lurched forward, one successful step. The door was that way. I could just go to the hospital and come back.

"Minsung-ah, you're going to hurt yourself even more!" I heard Donghae yell, and then felt his hands on my shoulders again.

"It's okay, Fishy; I can walk," I declared, through gritted teeth.

I began to head towards the door, and when he grabbed my wrist, I turned back around, to hear him say, "Stop being so... so... stubborn!" He was red-faced, and I could tell that he was having trouble getting the words out.

I let my other hand let go of the edge of the stage, and reached out and pried his fingers away from my wrist. "I can't let you guys help me anymore. If I let you help me all the time, then how will I ever be able to stand onstage by myself?"

"You have a broken leg! You shouldn't be standing at all!" he shouted, and I heard sirens outside. The ambulance must've been there.

 "We don't actually know that it's broken. Just... injured. I'll just go to the hospital and be back in time to make you supper. Okay?" I stumbled forward, falling onto the ground.

He rolled his eyes. "Think about yourself. I'm not even hungry anymore." Before I knew it, he was scooping me off the ground, and I was being carried out the door. "It's not fair. Why do you get to help us, and never let us help you?"

"Because you don't have to fight to earn respect," I answered, knowing that I should probably be fighting to get away from him. But I didn't want to. He was warm, and strong, and always there for me. And I probably looked like I was always hanging on him. But I was just about ready to give up fighting.

I heard the ambulance get louder, and then I was being put down inside the back of the van. I felt like I was going to throw up. Donghae turned to go, but my fingers wouldn't let go of his sleeve. 

"Fishy... Donghae-oppa, it's okay. You can tell me whatever you want to say,"

"I don't know what to say," he answered, looking miserable.

"I try to make you stop worrying about me, and then crap like this happens. And then I try to let go, and I can't. I might as well be a Sasaeng fan," I grumbled, once again trying to let go.

Instead, he stepped into the back of the ambulance. "I'm a friend of hers. I'm going to stay."

"I'm going to be fine, Fishy," I grumbled again, though I felt a little dizzy. "Go home and have supper."

"I can't. You were supposed to cook for me, remember? Doesn't that mean I have to go with you to the hospital?"

I heard the ambulance doors, and then someone was taking ahold of my leg to feel the break. My fingers automatically clenched around Donghae's arm in response to the pain, and I could see him wince, but didn't try to get away. I guess both of us had to fight to appear strong.

"Please don't leave me," I suddenly said, not sure if I meant Donghae, or just my Oppas in general.

Personally, after I heard the diagnosis, I thought that the ambulance was overkill. I wasn't going to die or anything. I just broke my leg. 

But apparently, when I'd fallen, I'd hit my head on the ground, and they'd been concerned because of that. I didn't even remember hitting my head. It must have been buried under the pain of my leg.

It really was broken, but luckily only a fracture. They said it would be healthy as ever within the space of a month. Apparently, at the angle I'd landed, it should have snapped the bone practically in half, but I had abnormally strong bones. "It's from Wisconsin milk," I'd said, earning myself selighted laughter from the nurses. I'd gone to bed after my treatment, the bone of my leg set, and in a brace. Not a full cast, thankfully. 

I woke up the next morning, and there was Fishy, sitting on a stool next to the bed, and smiling. I jolted into a sitting position, startled. 

"How long have you been there?!" I asked, ignoring the dull ache from my leg. It must have still been weakened by painkillers.

"Not long." He held out the flowers, and I took them, while he got up and got a vase. "You talk in your sleep."

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks, and hid behind the flowers. They were pretty, full of tiger lilies and small white flowers.

"You were watching me sleep?! You creep!" I yelled, my cheeks getting even brighter.

He took the flowers from me, laughing. "Not very long. Just long enough to hear you saying something about not being fake."

I frowned, looking down at my hands. It had been a nightmare. I was surrounded by people, holding up banners for every artist at SM but me, and chanting "fake, fake, fake, fake" as they got closer and closer to me.

I shivered, and then suddenly Donghae was at my side. "Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?"

I shook my head, able to smile. "No, I'm fine. Did you stay at the hospital all night?"

"The people here know me. This was the hospital that Heechul-hyung was at when he broke his leg."

I lifted the blanket to uncover my leg. "Apparently it's tradition. This should be the celebrity leg-breaking hospital. The only people they'd do any business with would be idols who've broken their legs."

Donghae laughed, flipping the covers back over my leg. "You'll be back to normal in time for our tour. Don't worry about it."

"It's the first time I've ever broken a bone. The closest I ever got was pulling my shin muscle during a cross-country meet in middle school."

"Cross-country?"

"It's a sport. Kind of like track and field, but long-distance, and using various terrain, like hills and woods. The woods are killer. If you trip over a root in the middle of a path, you're screwed. But then there was Big Bertha, at..." I trailed off, realizing that he was staring blankly at me. "Sorry. Anyway, I used to be a semi-long-distance runner. A mile or so at a time. I was kind of good at it, I guess. Not really because I was all that fast, but because I was really good at forcing myself to ignore the pain."

"And that's why you were trying to walk on a fractured bone? Because you were good at ignoring the pain?"

"In my family, we don't expect pity from others. You always have to be there to support those who need it. So when you're weak, you can't let it show, or else those people that depend on you won't want to lean on you anymore. And that's even worse than the pain from this leg. And I'm an idol. I have even more people depending on me. It's not something that I expect from people... it's just what I grew up with."

"Do you regret becoming a singer, then?" Donghae asked, sitting back down on the stool. When I gave him a confused look, he added, "if you would've wanted to be a runner, instead?"

"I didn't really want to become a runner. I quit cross country in seventh grade- sorry, my second year of middle school- in favor of acting, public speaking and musicals. What about you? I never really heard much about Lee Donghae's high school life."

"I didn't really have one. I was a trainee since I turned fifteen, remember?"

I bit my lip. "Oh, yeah, right. Sorry."

"I didn't know you were an athlete," he said, looking down at his feet.

"I'm a better actress than I am a runner. Besides, I wasn't getting anywhere. They say that winners never quit, and quitters never win. Well, I never won. So I quit."

He laughed, then leaned forward. "So are you happy now? As an actress, and singer..."

"Well, I'm not all that fond of hospitals. Or broken bones. So right now..."

"I didn't mean RIGHT now! Just... you know..." he trailed off, still trying to figure out what he was trying to say. I patted his hand, unable to fight back the smile.

"I know. I'm sorry, I was just teasing. Am I happy in Korea? Working for SM Entertainment, with a full schedule and people looking up to me? I think so. Obviously things get tough, but I think it's worth it. I get to write music and go on stage and dance, and film for my drama. And I'm with my Oppas practically every day. And my friends. So I think I'm happy. But if you let them feed me any of that disgusting hospital food..."

He laughed, fiddling with the hat on his head. "Would you rather starve?"

"Yes. I'll get up out of this bed and go beat the crap out of whoever's in that kitchen, and then make my food myself."

"You're discharged, Minsung."

"Now why didn't you tell me that earlier!" I yelled, whipping the blankets off of my leg. He held his hand out to help me up, but I shook my head and set my legs onto the floor, slowly straightening up. 

"Here, your crutches are in the corner." He ran to go grab them, coming back and holding them out to me.

I grimaced. "I've heard nasty stories about these things. That if you have them for long enough, they chafe against the skin of your armpits, and they have absolutely no traction on ice. I remember the time when the sidewalk on the hill up to the middle school was all covered in ice, Megan slipped, and it took like three people to help her up..."

I was blabbering again. Suddenly I stopped, looked up at Donghae, then put my hand on my chest. I could feel my heartbeat. It was beating rapidly. I wasn't calm. 

I looked back up at him, then felt my heartbeat again. It had quickened.

"Is something wrong, Minsung-ah?" Donghae asked, looking at me oddly.

"Oh, it's... it's nothing," I squeaked, taking the crutches from him. It's nothing. I just realized that my heart still beats faster when I talk to you. Unlike the other half of the group. The fangirl craze hasn't worn off yet.

Apparently forcing a rookie artist to perform with a broken leg is bad for press, so SM sent me on a trip with the boys back down to Jeolla-do, for some kind of resort, to get us used to promoting with each other, or something. Really, I think they were just getting rid of us. We'd be coming back to Seoul in less than two days, so it wasn't much, but it was a little. The air in the South was warm, and the familiar smell of farms and fresh, wet dirt reminded me that I would soon be home. Well, soon-ish.

I sat on the balcony of the hotel, looking down at the water as Jung Ah braided my hair. When finally she was done, she swung it over my shoulder so I could see it- a long, thin rope of gold.

I smiled, turning my chair so I was facing her. "Thank you, Eonni."

She shrugged. "It was nothing. I haven't braided hair in a long time. So was it here?"

"Was what here?"

"Where you wrote that song. 'A Dream by the Sea'."

I blushed. "No, that was in Mokpo."

"We're only fifteen minutes away from Mokpo."

"I know. We're going there tomorrow. For the 'Hello Korea' video we're filming. Where they get to show me all of the cultural things in the town, since I don't know. It's like a prequel for the things we'll film when we're in the U.S. Right?" I asked at the end, feeling proud of myself.

"Good job, Minsung," Jung Ah answered mockingly. Then she leaned over the railing, laying her head on her arms. "So what happened there? In Mokpo?"

I bit my lip, thinking of that place next to the sea. It felt like forever ago. "I don't know if I should tell you."

She turned her head towards me, squishing her cheek against her arm. "I'm your manager, Minsung. I'm not Min Hee, but you're stuck with me. I already know that you sleep in shorts and a sports bra when you're hot, and that you act tough, but can't watch horror movies because they give you bad nightmares. So you might as well tell me."

With a sigh, I finally told her it all. The hand through in the crowd, the temporary, secretive feeling of it all. Then I went on, not even holding back. It wasn't just about a dream by the sea anymore. I told her about all of those brief moments when he'd say something from his heart, just one fleeting moment, and then it'd be gone. And then the accident. And the ambulance, and the hospital...

When I finished, she sat up, yawning. "I don't know what you're waiting for. Obviously you're in love with the guy."

"That's what everyone told me about Sungmin-oppa. And Eunhyuk-oppa. But I wasn't."

"But didn't you say that your heart was still beating faster for him? Doesn't that mean that it's real this time?"

"I don't know, Eonni. I never know. I'm really not good at this. I spent my childhood beating on men. Not flirting with them."

"Are you sure those aren't the same thing?"

I glared at her. "Considering that it literally made them run away, I don't think so."

"Well why don't you just tell him that you think you might love him? Whether you do or don't, it doesn't hurt to try, right? Because if you aren't, then getting rejected won't really feel that bad."

"That sounds horrible."

"It makes sense to me."

"Love or not, rejection is terrible."

"Are you afraid?"

I stood up, grabbing my crutches. "I'm not. I shouldn't be."

"So are you going to tell him then?"

"Tomorrow. After filming. I think I know where he's going to be."