NOTE:  Thank you for the comments everyone!  This is a special chapter that’ll shift the story over to Jaejoong’s point of view.  It’s still being told by the narrator, but it’ll provide more insight into what Jaejoong’s thinking.  Enjoy! :)

 

Jaejoong stood hunched over the dim light of his shades within the privacy of his own room.  He buttoned up the top two buttons on his shirt and adjusted its collar and bow tie.  Then he slipped on his black overcoat and sighed.

 

It was a typical night, just another party to go to-another place where he had to flash his fake smile and pretend to care about the opinions of other rich people that he could care less about.  All they wanted was to flaunt their authority and wealth in the presence of other people.  If he had the choice, he wouldn’t go to such distasteful social events.  However, being the heir to his father’s mega music record-label company, it was assumed to be his responsibility to attend these social gatherings and exert some influence over the other people. 

 

Even more so to his displeasure, Jaejoong had the privilege of hosting this gathering at his very own mansion, at the persisting request of his father.

 

That bastard’s never around and yet he thinks he can order me around Jaejoong cursed in his mind.  

 

He opened the door to his room and was met by a spectacle of light as he transitioned from his dark abode to the terrors of the world beyond his own room.  As he closed the door behind him, he was greeted by the cacophony of his friends, or at least the boys his father wanted him to be friends with because of the money and power their fathers had in the entertainment world.

 

“Yah Jaejoong, where have you been man?  We’ve been lookin’ all over for you.  The host has to be present at his own party,” mused Yunho, clearly drunk on the wine he had probably drank.

 

“Yah man,” chimed in Changmin, at least a little bit more sober than Yunho.  “You’re missin’ out on all the European babes.”

 

Jaejoong ignored their antics and scrambled out of that hallway.  He made his way down a nearby staircase that would allow him to circle through the crowd secretly without being noticed by anyone.  But he didn’t realize he had a follower.

 

“Jaejoong, is that you?  You’ve grown up so much!” exclaimed the voice of a girl.

 

Startled and disappointed that his usual escape route had not worked, Jaejoong turned around to face his stalker.  , it’s that girl he groaned to himself.  He had met her back in Venice two years ago when his father had forced him to go on a business trip to learn the “rules of the trade.”  She was the daughter of a prominent film-maker in Italy and, naturally, Jaejoong was instructed to be respectful of her in order for the deal between their fathers to be closed.  Jaejoong had found her to be a great pest and wanted to get rid of her the moment that she began to cling unto him.  At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw her off the highest cliff, but he restrained this desire and put on his best smile.

 

“Hello Isabella.  It has been a long time, no?” Jaejoong managed to utter as if he really cared.

 

Isabella caressed her hair, not feeling shy at all about the fact that half her chest was being exposed by her ultra V-neck dress.  “Why, yes baby, it has been.  I have missed you so much,” she exclaimed in her utterly annoying heavy Italian accent.  She skipped over to hug Jaejoong.

 

Jaejoong struggled to catch his breath as her enlarged chest compressed against his and squeezed the life out of him.  He gasped for air.

 

Isabella seemed to have noticed his reaction.  “Ah, I’m sorry Jaejoong.  I keep forgetting about my implants.”

 

“You actually got them?” asked Jaejoong in amazement, finding it difficult to believe that any one would actually be stupid enough to do such a thing.

 

“Of course!  These were a present,” Isabella exclaimed with a bright smile on her face as she held her s up.  “You like?”

 

Jaejoong groaned and turned around to get away from this nightmare as soon as possible. 

 

“Okay Jaejoong, you can get me a drink, too!  Make sure you come back quickly though!” shouted Isabella after him. 

 

To Jaejoong’s dismay, he had come into contact with more familiar faces.

 

“Ah, Jaejoong!  So good to see you, my boy.  How have you been taking?” Mr. Jove, the senior executive director of an overseas record company in France, merrily exclaimed.

 

Jaejoong winced before he exerted some muscle power in his face to turn the ends of his lips up into a wide-eyed smile.  “I’m doing well, Mr. Jove.  Thank you.  I assume you are likewise?”

 

“Of course, of course.  Business has been better than ever after the collaboration with your father.  The deal was one of the best career moves I’ve ever made.  How is your father doing, anyway?” Mr. Jove asked.

 

My father…I don’t want to know how that swine’s doing Jaejoong thought with disdain.

 

“To be quite honest sir, I haven’t heard from him in a fortnight.  I take it that he’s doing well,” Jaejoong nonchalantly replied.

 

“Yes, well that’s very nice.  You know Jaejoong, you are a remarkable boy.  Your father is extremely lucky to have such a kid to take over the business when he gets older.  There’s no greater pride to a father than the success of his son,” Mr. Jove chuckled, patting Jaejoong on the shoulder.  “Well, I best be getting back to the crowd now.  Thank you for the wonderful party.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine sir,” Jaejoong lied.

 

Jaejoong staggered over to the bathroom in the darkness of the far-corned hallways where he would hopefully not come across any more unpleasant faces.  As soon as he opened the bathroom, he realized his hell of a night was yet to end.  There right in front of him was Yunho standing hunched over the sink, throwing up the alcohol contents he had binged on earlier that night.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jaejoong shouted.

 

“Ahaha,” Yunho sauntered towards Jaejoong, wiping remains of the throw-up on his face.  “I think I drank too much.”  He smiled, still not awaken from his drunken state.

 

“You can’t even have control over yourself!  What kind of a man are you?  Have you no shame?” Jaejoong replied in disgust.

 

“Aiya…here we go again.  What’s your problem man?  What happened to you.  You used to be fun when we were kids.  You’d hang out with us and we’d stare into the window of the room of the noona next door to you when she was changing her clothes…what happened to those times?  Now it’s all about you, you, and you.  You don’t give a damn about anyone else but you.  You’re boring,” Yunho dared to say. 

 

“What are you trying to say?  You think that just because I’m the only sane one around here that doesn’t try to get with every I see that I’m strange?  Look at yourself.  You can’t even refrain from drinking!  You’re a complete scum, you insolent bastard!” Jaejoong was infuriated at this point.

 

“What?  Now I’m the scum?  You treat everyone like .  Who are you, the prince of all of us?  Forgive me for not being your servant, you son of a !  The only reason you hate women is because of your of a mother.  Get over it already you big-” 

 

Yunho never got to finish his sentence.  He was slapped by Jaejoong.  The echo must’ve been heard all around the mansion as its echoes continued to resound throughout the habitation.

 

The tension in the air could be cut by a knife.  Jaejoong grabbed a hold of the collar of Yunho’s shirt.  “Don’t you EVER say that about my mother,” he threatened him.

 

 

Back in his room, Jaejoong ed his white shirt and slipped into something more loose and comfortable.  He sat by his desk and turned the switch on the night stand.  He opened the bottom-most drawer and searched through its contents.  Finally, at the very bottom of the heap of junk inside the drawer, he found what he was looking for:  it was an old, discolored photo, dated from back in 1987.  It had a small family in it, a young-looking couple and their small son.  The father in the picture had his arm around the shoulder of the young woman.  The young woman, supposedly the mother, smiled into the lens of the camera while holding securely on to her child.  Her eyes danced of joy.  Jaejoong’s eyes looked into the eyes of the boy in the picture.  The little boy seemed content to be held by the people who loved him.  He held onto his mother’s warm and gentle hand, his miniscule mouth wide open, showing spottings of teeth.  Jaejoong’s eyes lingered back over to the mother’s face.  He closed his eyes as they became saturated with water droplets.

 

“Umma…why have you abandoned me?” he asked aloud.

 

And for an entire hour, Jaejoong just sat alone by that desk with the picture in his hand, crying tears of pain. 

 

♥♥♥

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________