Jaejoong never understands that zen . This whole meditative state is a load pile of stinking bull. Empty your mind? Like hell he could do that. He might as well kill himself and it will do the job right away. Who the heck came up with that dog , anyway? No one can empty their minds. Even when people are asleep, they are still thinking. It’s what differentiates human with any other living creatures. Humansthink. To tell people to stop thinking is basically asking them to stop being a human.

But the thing is, he really wants to be able to do the zen nonsense. He is tired of thinking. Even when he’s in deep state of slumber, his unconscious mind somehow would come up with the most bizarre, creepy scenarios that play insidiously in the back of his eyelids. And when he wakes up, he would think again about what those scenes might stand for.

Aw, hell, what the . He could just buy some doses of morphine and knock himself out. That would do the job nicely. But it requires so much work, and a lot of money. The illegal substance already costs a fortune, and he needs to spend even more to buy people’s silence.

And that is exactly why he is here.

The pounding thrums of music make his ears ring, deafening out any other noise he makes up in his ed-up brain. The gyrating mass of bodies makes his own invisible; so insignificant, makes him less conscious about his existence.

The empty bottle in front of him is his only companion for tonight, and he prefers exactly this way. His chest feels warm, and his throat starts to burn. His stomach churns as if begging for mercy, but he only puts down his glass with a loud clank and barks to the nearest bartender, “Absinthe. Two more glasses. Gimme!”

The bartender looks at him with concern. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t allow it. You may die.”

Jaejoong snorts in disgust. “And you think I care?”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do care if I’m practically responsible for someone’s death.”

Jaejoong rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, just give me another. And another if I don’t die.”

The bartender sighs and seems to hesitate for a fraction of a second before he moves about the bar to grant the regular visitor’s wish.

Soon enough, another bottle of clear green liquid is presented before Jaejoong, and his eyes glaze. Oh, finally. He pours it over the spoon with a sugar cube on it and watches the steam. He literally devours it without any qualm, and immediately feeling the firey sensation making its way down his throat and settles in his rolling stomach.

After his third glass, he can feel his eyes rolling backwards, and his neck gives up to hold the weight of his head. He leans his head on the cold, slightly oily table and close his eyes. All the blood he has feels like rushing in a maddening speed into his brain; wrecking the system, halting all thoughts.

Ah, at last. He can sleep now, and no funny scenarios will play in his head. Afterall, his workaholic brain is too baked for making them up. Who knows what will happen when he wakes up. Especially not him.

Because he suddenly finds he’s unable to think anymore.

Zen, Jaejoong whispers to himself as he let his eyes droop.

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