#—s:welcome to the final show

[247jiyong]

— Welcome To The Final Show || Solo

Taking out the last cigarette from the pack, he glances towards the ashtray that’s almost filled. Besides the smoke leaving its scent in his apartment and the liquor cabinet becoming emptier and emptier, Jiyong can hardly recall anything from the past days. His life turned into a broken record and so did his mind that was constantly dwelling on the same subjects over and over again. And this endless contemplating was just useless and draining.

Scanning the room to find the lighter, he stops his search the moment his phone rings and his mother’s number appears on its bright the screen. Grabbing the mobile, for a few seconds he glares at it half-confused and at the verge of declining the call. He doubts it can be anything important, yet eventually he unwillingly picks up and heaves a deep sigh, probably loud enough for the woman to hear it. Though all that seems to resound on the other side is irregular breathing, as if she was either crying or holding back the need to tear up.

“What’s happening? You’ve lost your most treasured necklace?” His eyebrow curves up and the words rolling of his tongue are rather far from sensitive. But a chuckle quickly follows them to make his tone more jocular and less snarky. So he patiently waits for any response.

“Your father had a car accident. We’re waiting for him to wake up.”

Standing with his mouth agape, his legs suddenly feel weak. Making his way to the nearest chair, he plops onto it and nervously gulps. A wave of heat hit his face and then it spreads across his body as his heart skips a beat to soon start racing wildly. Everyone who has witnessed Jiyong talking about his family knows that his father was the very last person he could be concerned about. He’s always been holding grudges against him, especially after he left his mother for a secretary working in their law office they’ve set up together years ago. There were plenty of faults he could eternally blame him for that sometimes it was impossible to consider the man his parent.

His mother’s shaky voice pierces through the silence again: “I think you should go see him.”

“To make sure I’m in his will?” Jiyong asks coldly, concealing the sorrow and worry he’s afraid to admit.

“Please, don’t be like that now. He--”

“It’s not something we should handle over the phone.” Cutting in, he leans back in his seat. “I’ll visit you tomorrow. Good night.” Hanging up before his mother would start begging him not to, he then puts his phone down with the screen facing the table.

His expensive lifestyle partly relies on his father’s money and whether he’s going to recover from the accident or not entirely, Jiyong supposes he won’t be able to get back to work and he still remembers that his mother wasn’t the best at managing the firm. It’s purely egocentric of him to be troubled about his luxury and blitheness that might stand under a question mark currently, yet he feels it’s the high time for him to become completely financially independent.

Being only a DJ in a club won’t buy him goods he has gotten used to and for certain he doesn’t plan to live more modestly. However, a particular idea — a dream, even — has been at the back of his head for several weeks now and maybe this is his sole opportunity.