He wasn’t sure which one he regretted more – not kissing her or coming so close to. For the hundredth time in two weeks he lay in bed, blankly staring up at the ceiling, thinking about that one night. Thinking about her. He’d tried, honestly, to get her out of his mind but he just couldn’t. After all, how do you forget someone you’ve spent nearly half a lifetime thinking about? Of course, when he put it that way it sounded utterly cheesy, out of someone’s romantic novel. Still, as much as Jung Jaehyun was more of a man than any boy of his age, he had to admit that when it came to romance, he was still a bit like a little boy. The same little boy who fell in love with the girl with long black hair and big eyes all those years ago. Okay, well, maybe not in love… He sighed; he really couldn’t fool himself anymore could he?

Sometimes, he wished his father wasn’t who he was. The president’s son was what everyone else called him. Jaehyun hated the title. He knew it was ungrateful and he acknowledged he could be in a far worse situation, yet he couldn’t deny the millions of times where he wished he was somebody else’s son. He used to admire his father – as a child he’d always look up to the man in the handsome suit and the authority he gave off. Yet, as a child, Jaehyun was still innocent and unknowing. He did love his father, he was a good son; but he didn’t like the way his father played the role of well… a father. Being the president of a country constantly threatened by the communist North meant everything he did was a show. Sure, there were perks like the gigantic mansion they lived in and an endless supply of money at his easy disposal but push all the materials aside and one would find a rather empty hole with the words family. It seemed to Jaehyun that everything his family did, it was all for the sake of their reputation. He was sure his parents did love him in their own way, but didn’t know how to show it. Every meal together (which was rather rare save for Christmas or the occasional hosting of an ambassador) felt more like a business conference, and every question felt like an interview, as if they were testing him to find out his flaws. He’d always have to play the part of the ‘perfect son’: in school, out of school, everything he did was captured by the paparazzi and put on the cover of some magazine or newspaper. Of course, given his handsome looks and good figure, he’d earned the status similar to that of a young royalty. People called him names like ‘prince’ and honestly, he wasn’t complaining (he did have an ego after all). Yet, none of that could compare to what he wished he’d have – people who really cared for him despite his flaws.

He’d found a few of those in school, mainly the boys in the basketball team. After spending four whole years playing (and winning) together, they’d built a bond like brothers. Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung and Ten. They were the close thing he’d ever had to a family. All of them knew how it felt to have to live up to people’s expectations. In fact, that was what drove them to win all the time: the drive to prove themselves. Though, none of them knew exactly how he felt; after all, there was only so much pressure put on you when your last name wasn’t ‘Jung’. Still, he was grateful he could always let off steam or have meaningful conversations with one of the boys at anytime; they’d always have his back. When they talked, he could let go of his façade and show his real self comfortably. To some extent, there wasn’t a lot to show. He genuinely did like being the president of the student council (he’d changed a lot of negatives in his last year) and he did really love playing basketball. With regards to his education, he was somewhat of a genius and it was easy for him to stay top of the class constantly. Yet, there was also another side he kept quite hidden, especially from the prying eyes of the press. How would his father react if he found out his son was a typical 'bad boy'? Not too well, he supposed. Honestly, though, he’d like to think of himself as a gentleman rather than a childish bad boy. He definitely wasn’t a player who picked up girls or the kind of boy to get drunk. He knew his limit, and honestly, didn’t exactly like hangovers. Perhaps he was a bit of a daredevil – he’d sold the collection of gold rings and chains his father gave him on his seventeenth birthday and purchased a beautiful black Harley Davidson that he kept in Taeyong’s garage. It wasn’t hard – hardly anybody ever walked around the area at 3 a.m. in the morning. Besides, the helmet was a perfect disguise; no one would guess it was him. He did smoke the occasional cigarette; he liked how it made him feel calm. Honestly, he blamed all his ‘bad habits’ on the boys – they’d gotten him into them. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. From a young age, all he’d wanted was some freedom, some danger wherein he could do as he pleased and take risks. He’d finally found it (with good balance of his scholarly image) and wouldn’t give it up for the world. Life was looking up for him– once he graduated college, he would be able to break free from his father’s restraints and live his own life the way he wanted.

Still, something was missing. He knew what it was but wasn’t exactly something he had control over. It wasn’t something exactly embarrassing to admit either – he knew that at one point in another in everyone’s lives there came a time where they wanted to experience a kind of lov