The dress was brave. Much more so than I ever felt, in uniform or otherwise. The chiffon skirt draped down over my toes like a mystic black waterfall, and only attached to a front piece at my waist. My back was completely exposed, something I had been insistent on, but was now scared of. The silky black fabric continued on my sleeves that cuffed at the wrists, giving a sort of 'I Dream of Jeannie' look. And then of course, the gaudy yet magnificent shoulder epaulets decorated with silver studs to match the boys' extravagant military attire for the night.
This was seriously the last time I ever listened to Cat or Moon Jae.
"This dress is probably a gagillion dollars. I don't know why I'm even wearing it." I hissed through my teeth as Cat slipped one of my feet into a glossy yet sensible wedge heel.
"Uh, it's a gagillion won. Get it right." She snarked up at me, ignoring any and all discomfort I was feeling. It wasn't exactly her style to be reassuring.
"Why can't I-" I began to complain for the hundredth time as to why she elected herself for covert duty and I was stuck with prance patrol, but she cut me off with an icy glare.
"Because you got yourself shot...like an idiot." She snapped. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from firing back, not wanting to retaliate while on comms with the rest of the security team. They were beginning to be used to our bickering, but I didn't think even they would condone a full blown sass bash during duty. Cat slipped the other heel on my foot and then stood back to survey her work. It wasn't really like she'd done anything but the shoes, everything else was Moon Jae's artistry, but that wasn't going to stop Cat from taking all the credit. "You look alright." She nodded to herself. She had a talent for mood swings; one moment she would be stabbing you, the next she'd be telling you that red really was your color. Sometimes it felt like playing Russian Roulette, never knowing which pull of the trigger was going to make her snap. Her outfit for the night was a slick and tight fitting tactical suit. I pointed out to her that she was not, in fact, the Black Widow, and that there was no need for such a get up, but she ignored me. Like always. But between the two of us, we both knew which I would rather be wearing.
The door to the dressing room swung open without a knock and Moon Jae came swirling in like a sparkly tornado. I swear she'd never frowned a day in her life.
"Ohmo! Dangsin-eun neomu yeppeuda!" She exclaimed and skipped around us, swishing fabric here, tucking a hair there, making sure the makeup that I hated wearing was blended properly. Even though she was only a Stylist intern, I had a feeling she was stuck at the bottom of the totem pole because no one knew how to manage her insane energy.
"I'm gonna go ahead and guess she thinks you look okay, too." Cat dodged as much hairspray as she could, making her way to the door to get out of Moon Jae's path.
"She said I look pretty." I translated for her. Even though I was nowhere near fluent in Korean, I was picking up more and more everyday. Cat, on the other hand, was perfectly content to remain on the other end of an interpreter. "At least someone does." I added with a mumble.
"Oh yes, let's go ahead and pretend that none of those testosterone sacks is going to want to jump you the instant they see you." She snorted, leaning against the door, arms crossed.
Trigger, slide, bang.
"Can you please not refer to them as hormone sacks? They are good guys, you said so yourself." I lectured, half ignoring Moon Jae's instructions, and half listening to the scrambled voices that suddenly sparked in my ear.
"Sounds like it's starting." Cat smoothly avoided my reprimand and pushed off the wall, holding one finger to her ear. "Are you 'bout done?"
"Kkeutmachin?" I asked Moon Jae, who I had lost sight of somewhere around the back of my skirt. She crawled back in front of me and held up her fingers in an 'OK', grinning from ear to ear. I probably botched the pronunciation and she didn't want to be rude by correcting me, but I brushed it off, putting my finger to my own ear in order to hear the voices from my comm better.
"It'd be great if they spoke English." Cat commented as she opened the door for me and we made our way into the hallway.
"It'd be great if you learned their language first." I returned absently.
"It's not like any of them would talk to me if I did."
"That's because you stabbed Hoo Min on your first day!" I exclaimed, to which she turned up her nose, like she would neither confirm nor deny that the poor first year guard had to get five stitches thanks to her. We padded down the corridor, her super comfy Vibrams soundless next to the click and slap of my heels. Near the end, we would part ways; Cat would make her way into the concert hall via the service entrance, and then slowly progress up to the catwalks, watching the show from above. We called this 'covert duty' because it was unofficial, and only one of the two of us ever took up the position. Some 85% of shootings in venues such as concert halls take place in the rafters above the stage. With Cat in the nest, wearing all black in the darkness of the scaffolding, she'd be undetectable, and therefore able to put down any attempts before anyone ever noticed something was off. It was my preferable position, but at the moment, like Cat had so delicately put it...I wasn't really able to scale the rafters like the Black Widow tonight. Not with the two holes in my back still aching like there were ice picks sticking out of my ribs.
No, my job for the night was 'Prance Patrol': Walking with the boys on the red carpet, or just behind them to avoid the cameras. We usually assigned one of the new guys to walk with them since it wasn't a high stakes position. To my knowledge, no celebrity had ever been shot on the red carpet, but tonight was special. Chief Soo wanted me to make an appearance and put any rumors that I was out of commission to rest. Even though, technically, I was still no where near field ready. Two shots to the back had severely limited my range of motion. I couldn't lift anything or roll at all. As a Marine, I told myself to buck the fuck up and keep going, but that was just not how Koreans did things. I was seriously so tired of being told to 'get some rest', and of no one understanding that my Drill Sergeant would have put me through four PT tests by now. And then I would have to explain what a PT test was, and at that point I would give up. But there would be no giving up tonight. Even though my back hurt like hell and I didn't know how exactly I was supposed to run in these wedges should I need to, I was going to strut my stuff for all of Korea.
When Cat and I finally reached the end of the hall, she turned to me one more time and gave me a last once over.
"Still okay?" I asked, fingering the fabric of my skirt.
"Acceptable." She shrugged, but from her, 'acceptable' meant stunning. Surrendering to her mysterious ways, I turned towards the double doors that led to the street with a smirk, while she turned the opposite direction towards the back alley. "Oh, and Hasa?" She shouted when I was at the end.
"Hmm?"
"Don't let any of those hormone buckets touch you." She ordered snobbishly.
"They've graduated to buckets now, have they?" I laughed and waved her off. I mean, if she could ignore my advice, I could ignore hers.

Kyung Hee University's Hall of Peace is the massive red and wood paneled masterpiece that has had the honor of hosting the Golden Disk Awards twice now. The building itself looked like it was styled after the Notre Dame de Paris, with its white marble and stain glass windows. To me it looked like an LDS temple, but I kept that to myself. A mile long red carpet had been rolled up to the double door entrance, lined with the entirety of Korea's paparazzi population. The photo backdrop was a mixture of sponsor logos, like: The Star-Asia, Lotte, JTBC2, Sheraton Hotels, and Union Pay. There was already a line of vans and limos stretching down the lane, waiting to drop off their idols. The faculty offices across the street had been turned into auxiliary space, to be used by people like me and Moon Jae, who came to stand behind me. I stared at the crosswalk between the two buildings for a minute, like it was a rickety bridge I didn't want to cross.
"Ginjang doeni?" Moon Jae asked happily. Was I nervous? Absolutely. But I smiled at her reassuringly and then forced my feet down the steps.

Kim Jongdae followed after Baekhyun obediently as EXO marched up the red carpet as a group. They paused in front of the sponsor wall and smiled for the million bright flashes that caused him temporary blindness. Nothing he hadn't done a hundred times before. In all honesty, he hated award ceremonies, they always gave him so much anxiety. But where SM said to go, he went. A little further down the walk was a chevron shaped platform and a standing camera for interviews. Junmyeon steered them towards it and gracefully accepted the microphone offered to him by the MC. It was his job as leader and hyung to be the speaker, and for that, Jongdae was thankful.
They lined up as practiced and bowed in unison. After that he sort of drowned out the interviewer and Junmyeon's responses. He wasn't usually asked to speak, that was more reserved for Baekhyun or Chenyeol; his brothers who loved to talk. They had just gotten to the album questions when he heard the shouting. It was one of those things that he could pick out of any crowd of noises: the syllables of her foreign name that rolled around on his tongue.
"It's Harper Hasagawa!"
"Look here!"
"She's out of the hospital!"
Jongdae spun around instantly, searching for her usual messy bun and too big flak jacket. But to his astonishment, a bombshell came sauntering up the red carpet steps, wearing Harper's face. Her dress was high collared and misty black, making her look eerily beautiful. Her hair was pulled up tight into dozens of braids that swirled into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she carried a clutch studded with a thousand sparkling diamonds that twinkled under her black fingernails. She was as regal as she was terrifying, and she matched their own style concept to a T. He knew he was seeing Moon Jae's work, but somehow he just couldn't believe it. That wasn't the Harper that they knew, the Harper who burped in his face or punched Chief Soo in the gut. The goddess walking towards them was some sort of miracle, one he was absolutely not prepared for.
The MC stopped his line of questions midway through to turn the camera towards her approach. Up until now, she had seemed confident in her walk, although he sensed a familiar fearful tension in the way she was clutching her purse. But with the camera on her, she faltered.
"Mrs. Hasagawa!" The reporters shouted. They looked like a sea of gaping fish, writhing behind the photographer line in waves. They seemed ravenous for her, and Jongdae's stomach twisted at the sight. Nervously, she bit her black stained lip, making eye contact with each EXO member before finally falling on him. Her green eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before she slowly started to turn in the recognizable model circle.
And then he saw them.
The dress had no back, and when she turned, everyone could clearly see the two discolored dents in her flesh. They looked smaller than the ones he saw in his nightmares, but somehow, these seemed worse. It was like they were on display, outrageously obvious and undisguised. One just below her right shoulder blade, and the other at her left waist line. How could she wear a dress like this? How could she show them off for everyone to see? For a daunting moment, he thought he might be sick. Her blood had sprayed all over his face, and now she was revealing the aftermath to anyone who wanted to look.
And everyone wanted to look.
His knees suddenly buckled and he wasn't able to stop himself from crumpling onto the step. Immediately, Junmyeon and the rest of his brothers started to him, alarmed. But she came too, and all he could do was ball his hands into fists and brace them against his knees. They circled him, cutting him off from the squirming cameras and the loudmouthed MC, who was shouting for a paramedic.
This was no good. Looking this weak was only going to start rumors for the company. EXO-L's were going to bleed from the woodwork, accusing SM of abusing another member into exhaustion, when in reality, they had been getting better. Better because she had stood up for them when no one else would.
Harper slowly, painstakingly, bent down to his level, hugging her knees and looking up at him through her eyelashes. She seemed to know that he was more furious than anything else. She seemed to know it more than he did. Why was he so mad, anyway? She had always done whatever she wanted, how was this any different? His knuckles were going white and his arms were shaking, but his eyes could only burn into hers. She met his intensity with calm, and like she dumped a giant bucket of water on his fire, he eased.
"You need to let it go." She said quietly in English. "This anger and guilt. Throw it away, because it doesn't belong to you." She reached out and took his fist, weaseling her fingers in between his. "Understand this, Kim Jongdae: I would do it all over again, I would do it a hundred times. Although at that point, I would probably look like swiss cheese." There was a snort from above their heads, and Jongdae glanced up at Kai, who was quickly trying to hide his smirk. "I would rather have these than you have them, do you know why?" She asked him, but didn't wait for his answer. "Because bullet wounds are damn sexy."
That garnered a few more chuckles and some shuffling feet from the others. He knew they should wrap this up quickly, they were on the red carpet for heaven's sake...but he just kept staring at her.
"What is it?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. "What's so wrong with people seeing them?" He wanted to scream at her, demand to know how she was so proud of them. They were wounds! They were scars! They were his nightmares! Her, vaulting towards him as the shots propelled her into his arms. Her blood covering the front of his shirt, Baek screaming her name at the top of his lungs. Those memories were not things to be proud of! "They're a part of me now, that's just how it is, and I'm okay with that. You need to be okay with that too. These...they're not your fault." She tapped out the words on his knee to emphasize her point. "It's my job to protect you, and that's exactly what I did. How can you be so furious that I did my job well?"
He hated her logic, hated the fact that it was true and understandable. Harper was a body guard, and by definition, wasn't a body guard someone who guards with their body? She had thrown herself in front of fire for him, and if she didn't regret it...than how could he?

Shakily, he hissed out a sigh in defeat. Taking the surrender, Harper reached for a hand to help her up, and Jongdae felt the familiar arms of his brothers lift him to his feet. The onlookers began to clap, like he was a sports player down on the field, and a paramedic arrived outside the circle of members, but was waved away. He didn't have the type of tools necessary to repair a shattered ego.
"Moon Jae." Harper called, and the hyper stylist came bounding up, hip purse swinging.
"Come with me, Chen!" She beamed and grabbed his arm, not waiting for him to consent. The girl dragged him out of the protection of his friends, and he was immediately blinded by the flashes again.
"Chen will be alright," He heard Junmyeon tell the MC, "we've just been so busy with tour that he forgot to eat a healthy breakfast. He'll be ready to perform after some food." The reporters seemed to accept the excuse before he lost sight of them completely.

Baekhyun watched silently as Chen was dragged into the hall, and Harper squeezed his hand extra tight. He'd gone for her arm before she even asked for help, not caring who saw. But now, as the excitement died down and EXO continued to walk the carpet, he knew he had to let go of her. As blandly as he could, he released her hand. But, unable to let go of her completely, he replaced it on the small of her back, as if to escort her forward. It seemed like a platonic enough thing to do, a small gesture between coworkers. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but didn't comment as they finally made it inside.
The first person to approach them was Chief Soo, who went straight for Harper with vengeance.
"What the hell, Hasagawa? What did you do to him?" The manager barked in Korean. Baek was about to intervene, but she quickly apologized, even though everyone knew she'd done nothing wrong. Without any further explanation, Chief Soo whisked Harper away to the security office, most likely to continue yelling at her. As he watched her leave, Baekhyun rubbed his hands together nervously, only to find them oddly sticky. Glancing down, he noticed a brownish cream covering his palms. He flagged down a nearby stylist and asked for a hand wipe. When she saw him cleaning off his hands, she immediately went digging in her bag.
"Here," she handed him a small disposable pouch of liquid foundation. "If you got it on your hands, that means you'll need to apply more. Try not to touch it until it dries." He thanked her hesitantly and stared down at the sample. He knew for sure that he hadn't touched his face, and he never wore that much anyway. The only other person he touched had been Harper.
Harper's back.
Baekhyun internally groaned as he tossed the sample. He'd have to deal with it later though. Right then, he had more pressing matters than her pride.

The performance they gave that night turned out to be one of their best...somehow. Between Trot Record of the Year and the Artist Popularity Awards, EXO had performed 'For Life', and their era signature, 'Monster', both of which were heavily dependent on Chen's high notes. The other members had been hesitant to let him go through with it (this was the entire reason they had understudy parts, after all), but Chen declined. He said he would do it, and he did. It was like whatever fire Harper had managed to put out on the carpet, had reignited on stage. His singing was stronger, his dancing was bolder. Everything about him exuded a gallant desperation that only those on stage with him could see.
When the last note of 'For Life' strummed, Baekhyun couldn't tear his eyes away from Chen's face, or the tears sliding invisibly down his cheeks. Of all his brothers, Chen had never been the emotional one. Chenyeol or Kai, absolutely. But Jongdae always knew how to compose himself, it was something Baek had always admired/hated about him. But it was also something he couldn't let anyone else see; So he hooked his arm around Jongdae's head and pretended to joke with him as they ran off stage, setting up for the next act. Chen didn't protest and allowed himself to be escorted to the dressing rooms, surrounded by the other members.
That night, EXO won three awards: the Ceci Asia Icon Award, Disk Bonsang, and Disk Daesang. And each time they went on stage, a different member would hang back with Jongdae...just to be sure. Sehun, Xiumin, and Kai somehow managed to carry him through the night, forcing him to give aegyo and hearts to the fans, while also shielding him from any unnecessary attention. Baekhyun had to admit that this was probably why they were so successful as a group. It wasn't SM, or their musical ability-it was because they were a group of genuinely decent guys who had become brothers. They would do anything for each other, and it was a sign of trust that Jongdae let them lead him through a hard time.
And unfortunately, it helped that Harper didn't return.