The week starts with a date at the coffee shop with Monday girl. She’s sub-standard gorgeous: a natural Korean beauty whose face frequents those ulzzang websites, almost always amongst high ranks, she tells me. That’s cute, I say, smiling as I lie through my coffee-stainless teeth. But you’re without question always number one in my heart.

Tuesday opens a brand new club with a brand new . She’s lean, leggy and not exactly all-natural, but she’s well known on the circuit as a primetime beauty flogged by several photographers, which is just fine by me. I just make sure I don’t blink from double the normal amount of camera flashes going off in my face, easily solving the problem with a pair of mirrored douchebag aviators.

Wednesday wakes up without any worries, because I visit one of my fairly famous female friends from university at her apartment. Just to eat breakfast, of course. But the fans camped outside don’t know that, and dating rumours immediately begin to fly around all the fansites. I neither deny nor accept any claims.

Thursday is thoroughly enjoyable, as I cruise around the central streets of Seoul in my Jaguar with the leading lady of a hot and current drama in the passenger seat. It’s not a convertible and we don’t put the windows down, but that doesn’t stop prying eyes or cameras from sneaking a peek. I try not to run anyone over (I’m not Daesung, thanks.) or at least go over the speed limit, but it’s beginning to prove rather difficult when a street race gets going.

Friday finds a foreign girl in my arms at a bar in Gangnam. She’s blonde, European and maybe quite a bit taller than me. But it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re both too aesthetically pleasing and drunk to care. I make sure to tell her I love her at least ten times in my ty English – better known as Seungrish.

Saturday states it’s been a week filled with ‘Seungri Slaying Seoul’ according to the headlines of gossip websites, citing that tonight is the night to go out, because I’m sure to be seen, along with several striking girls in tow. They’re not wrong. I always make sure I satisfy my audience’s needs.

Sundays serves a peaceful day for me to return to Jiyong’s apartment at a decent hour in comparison to traipsing in still half tipsy at eight in the morning, when the clubs have finally closed. Instead, I turn up at ten am, massively hungover. But I don’t care. It’s been a highly successful week in my opinion. Especially in getting my revenge pissing off Jiyong.

“What are you doing here?” He immediately appears at the door before I can even unlock it. His eyes are flashing with annoyance and anger. “President Yang told me he’s expecting you at his office in half an hour. Didn’t you get his message?”

I stride past him to the guest room. “Guess my phone ran out of battery. Oops.” I toss over my shoulder, grinning secretly to myself once I’m facing forwards again. Switched off phones always piss of our leader since it means he can’t contact us to yell at or lecture us. Bonus points because it’s a lie and I’ve just been ignoring all calls and texts, and he and I both fully well know it.

Jiyong marches into the room after me before I can even shut the door. “Again. What are you doing here? You have a meeting with sajangnim. Don’t even think about making me take the rap for you, maknae.” He spits out my old nickname cattily like an insult. I can’t help but flinch. Ever since lunch with his sister, he’s started referring to me as ‘maknae’ all over again, with a harsh bite to his words as though it’s 2005 all over again and Hyunseung hasn’t been kicked out. But I still can’t get used to it, like the fact that, technically, I, too had been kicked out but then came back, as though raised from the dead.

I haven’t thought about it in a long time, and I try not to because it admittedly makes me severely depressed, but I do wonder as to whether Jiyong really did wish Hyunseung had stayed and I’d remained kicked out. Even more so than usual nowadays, what with his ty attitude towards me now. It’s almost like we’ve reverted back seven or eight years ago.

“Calm down.” I frostily retort. “Just freshening up so I don’t kill sajangnim with the overpowering scent of hangover.” It’s not exactly necessary to note. Jiyong can probably smell the stench of booze, sweat and women’s perfume from here. But it’s great for rubbing the signs of a scandal in his face.

I expect Jiyong to have a tantrum, screaming about disrespect to the leader, my stupidity and how I better run because if I don’t, he’ll kill me. That is, if the president doesn’t at our meeting today. Instead, he walks out the door.

“Get out.” His voice carries down the hallway as he stalks off to his room. “Just get out, Seungri.”

I snort at his pathetic retreat. “Oh yeah?” I yell back, still intent on getting the last word. “Just like how you get out of my bed every morning after you’ve spent the night hug- me when you think I’m asleep?”

The footsteps suddenly stop. It’s so still you could hear a pin drop. That is, until the footsteps come thundering back towards the guest bedroom door.

“What the did you just say, Lee Seunghyun?” He snarls as he flies through the door so he can hiss right in my very face. We’re practically bumping noses, which is seriously ing closing considering how flat Jiyong’s nose is. I try not to shudder at the close proximity of the man I believed to be so in love with, so dreadfully, painfully in love with, but the next words out of his mouth brings my nerve impulses completely to a halt. “I have no ing clue what the you’re going on about, but you better stop spreading these ing bull lies right now, you ing jerk. I don’t know why you’re trying to ing jeopardise my marriage, but it’s so obvious that you’re ing jealous because you’re so ing lonely, you ing prick.”

Each word stings like a slap, hitting directly at my heart over and over. But I don’t let that show, of course. I take a deep, calming breath before beginning.

“You are so miserably, horribly pathetic, Jiyong.” I slowly shake my head. “Not only are you a massive liar, but you also make absolutely no sense. Why would I lie and make something up like that? I’m hardly lonely when I’m clearly surrounded by lots of company, as you’ve probably seen on Naver. Stick to rapping, hyung. Your insults are even tier than your attempts to get it on with your fiancée whilst I’m in the room next door, listening to every single word.” I hiss, plastering a massive ‘sorry-not-sorry’ grin on my face.

Jiyong flushes bright red. “You little-“

“You really do treat me just like your pet dog, huh?” I bite back sarcastically. “Ignoring me like I’m not even human. I’m so smart for agreeing to do this ‘little favour’ for you, hyung. Wow.”

A look of regret washes over Jiyong’s face. I feel triumphant, until I realise he’s just upset that he won’t have a smokescreen to protect him and his precious jagiya anymore if I walk out.

“Don’t be like this, Seungriyah,” He begs, taking a step back to finally put some space between us. “Please-“

“Oh, I have a name now, do I?” I mock-gasp as I take out my suit jacket from the closet. “Why thank you, o master.”

 “I’m serious, Seungriyah.” Jiyong tries to catch my eye but I wave him off. “I really-“

“Oh my god!” I sharply cut him off before he can go any further. I finally turn to face him, taking a shaky breath. “Stop acting like you care, hyung! All you care about is yourself, your career and your precious freaking jagiya! I’m not about to walk out on you two because it’s the president’s orders, so just relax already and quit pretending to give a when I know you don’t!”

I wish he still cared. But he doesn’t. I just know it, and it’s nothing worth getting my hopes up over anymore. I’m just being used, plain and simple. He needed me to use me. Other than that, there is no other purpose or meaning I serve.

Jiyong glares at me. “You’re such a , Seungri.” He declares, before sweeping out the room and returning to his original path back to his room.

If I’m a , you’re the biggest jerk on the planet, I think to myself, before slamming the door shut so I can get ready to meet with Yang Hyunsuk.

(Seungri's fictional view on Daesung's accident in this chapter do not reflect that of the author.)