I watch bright red blood flow out of as she puts her hand near it, choking and coughing.

The girl I love so deeply is throwing up blood right before me.

What can I do?

Nothing.

Literally.

I sat on my seat uneasily, not able to do anything, while her members and staffs rush over to her.

I controlled all urges to just rush over to her and wrap her in my arms, that fragile body of hers.

But what can I do?

News of us dating for 6 months was released a week ago and since then, she hasn't had proper rest.

Today, we're having rehearsals but cameras are here to film as well.

I don't know, I'm afraid.

Afraid that if I go over, cameras would film it somehow, fans will find out and she'll just get more hurt.

She hasn't slept for 2 days and barely ate the entire week, according to Seulgi and Irene.

My fans have been harrassing her but she keeps telling me "I'm okay, don't worry".

Stubborn girl doesn't want me to address this issue with my fans firmly.

She tells me to treasure my fans and not hurt them like that.

Such a kind-hearted girl, isn't she?

I watch as the staffs hurriedly stuff tissue into her hands - my poor girl crouched on the floor at the edge of the stage, body shaking.

I tighten my grip on the hem of my shirt.

Red Velvet has been performing 'Happiness' (without Yeri - I heard she has something to attend to) over and over again for the past 20 minutes after practicing their other songs repeatedly for an hour.

I'm not even kidding, they're not getting a minute rest in between at all.

All the tough practices plus her weak condition, is probably the reason why her body just gave in.

All that powerful "Shine on me, let it shine on me", her incredible high notes and adlibs took a toll on her weak body.

I gripped my shirt even tighter.

"Go over man." Beside me, Jackson nudges.

I stayed quiet.

There was a camera filming her from the sitting area (since the stage is on a platform, the cameramen are below). Inappropriate. But that's how the industry works. They feed on our misery and pain.

Jackson nudges me again, nodding over at the poor girl - no, my girl - who was struggling to stand up even with the help of the staff.

Her left hand holding a lot of tissue paper over , the right hand in the tight grasp of her leader, Irene, who looked so worried that the frown on her face may turn permanent.

I stayed quiet.

My knuckles turned red and my veins even more protruding from gripping and twisting the hem of my shirt.

Just as she managed to find some sort of balance, she threw up again and drop back to the ground, both hands clapsed over .

I watch the blood come out from and drip onto the now red tissue, staining her grey top.

My heart aches at the sight.

At the next thing I knew, my legs formed a mind of its own and I was taking off, running up the stage and over to her.

I rushed to her from behind, squat down, making her fragile body lean against mine. It was so cold.

I got there at the right time because she started to lose consciousness and her upper body was just relying on my chest.

"Mark, Mark, carry her!" Irene yelled and I quickly did so, not caring that blood was getting onto my clothes too.

My right hand slipped under her legs and my left held her upper body. I lifted her up with ease. She's light to begin with and she barely ate these days.

I had a good look at her pale face after I stood up with her in my arms bridal style.

She smiled very faintly, so brief I nearly missed it.

"Hi..." she breathed out weakly from her blood-stained lips.

I quickly shushed her up. "Shut up you idiot." I told her in English and she smiles faintly again.

She's so weak she couldn't even sling her arms around my shoulders - her right arm resting on her body while her left arm dangling in air.

I used my right hand and held her freezing cold left arm, using only my right arm to support her lower body.

I held onto her hand tightly. I felt her attempting to squeeze back but she was so weak. I her index finger - the area in between the joint and her knuckle - to assure her that I'm here.

"How dare you... call me idiot..." she continued to breathe out weakly in my arms as the staff leads us to the carpark to go to the hospital.

We speak in 4 different languages: mainly English and Korean and the occasional Chinese and Japanese.

"Stop talking now or I'll drop you." I replied.

"You... won't dare..."

"And how are you so sure I won't after you worried the crap out of me, Wendy Tuan-ssi?"

"Because... Naneun Wendy Tuan... imnida."

"Stop talking or I'll call you Red Velvet's Wendy instead."

"A-arraso... Mark oppa."

"Don't 'oppa' me, just keep quiet!"

She smiles faintly again just as the staff pushes open the door to the carpark.

I was angry. They didn't even called the ambulance. It was just her company van and a few more staffs waiting for us. Screwed up.

Wendy definitely could tell I was starting to get pissed off, as she used her right hand (that is resting on her body) and gently hit my abdomen to tell me to relax.

She's such a sweet girl.

She still looked so pale, I wasn't ready to part with her. I opened my mo