Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 19/20 [Part 1]
[ P a r t O n e ]
Beauty and the Beast
Author: love_cassiopeia
Summary: Jung Yunho - a gifted and successful actor. Kim Jaejoong - Yunho's biggest fan. After receiving the task to interview Yunho for his journalism assignment, Jaejoong realizes that his favourite actor just might transform him from a "fan" into something much more.
Rated: PG-13 ~ NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the five members, I’m simply borrowing them.
Warning(s): NC-17 material, language
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Pairing(s): YunJae
Chapter 19: Au Champ Elysees
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19.
Part 1:
Au Champ Elysees
2:30 PM Paris, France
There is a rule book-a rule book with all sorts of do’s and don’ts-that a fan eventually has to follow throughout their term as a devotee. Although it might not be particularly evident to the public, the crucial rule book still dominates and exists in a fan base. As an individual, a fan has statutes, obligations, and even oaths to his or her idol. It might not be apparent on the outside, but it is there: deep down inside every fan’s distinctive hearts.
I had followed rule number one quite well: worship your idol and find out all that you can about him. Yes, this was the infamous ‘loving him from a distance.’ And this, out of all the other requirements, was the easiest to meet.
The second rule: do not abandon your idol for another. This was fairly easy to meet also. Jung Yunho was an entertainer who topped every other in the industry, and it was a rather difficult task if I was to abandon his fandom for another.
The first two rules were extremely simple to follow. However, it was the third rule which I felt I had broken tremendously.
Number three: do not cause your idol irritation or frustration by either stalking them, or becoming particularly close with them.
Yes, as a fan, I had broken this crucial regulation entirely. Committing such ridiculous actions would drive me completely out of my fandom, causing other fans to alienate me from their kind. Becoming extremely close with Yunho made me lose my initial lustre as a fan, and yes, I had all the intention to continue being his fan; his supporter.
I figured that I would make up for such a sinful deed by following rule number four diligently: purchase as much merchandise from your idol as you can.
Once I arrived in Japan, I had gone onto a ridiculous shopping spree, obtaining copies after copies of his award-winning movies. And now, even with a fraction of my reward money gone, I had spent another portion of it on an awfully expensive plane ticket to Paris. And what for? For my idol, my fellow fans…for my idol.
I had arrived in Paris after a twelve-hour flight. I was greeted by the familiar yet intimidating metropolis, one which had ‘amour’ written on it from head to toe. This time however, there were no attractive managers to greet me at the airport and certainly no extravagant hotel rooms for me to stay in. There were no shirtless actors or eye-catching tanned chests-not this time.
A part of me felt erratically relieved that such things were in absence. I often found it difficult to breathe with such circumstances located inches beside me.
This time, after I arrived at the airport, I was greeted by the congenial and familiar faces of Kim Junsu and Park Yoochun. Although I valued my prize money quite a lot, I had paid for both Yoochun and Junsu’s plane tickets, calling them up from different ends of the world to reunite in Paris. I desired to see Junsu for one reason and one reason only: to renew our friendship and relive our pleasant memories. My ears were longing to hear another one of his sardonic jokes and incoherent statements.
Yoochun, on the other hand, was invited to Paris out of pure gratitude. The hotel manager had helped Yunho and me tremendously during our stay at Bora Bora. Besides, the man knew how to speak French and was a professional tour guide-who else would I have wanted to invite other than him, the man who knew everything there was to know about Paris?
The three of us met together shortly after our flights. Yoochun had flown in from Bora Bora while Junsu had arrived all the way from Seoul. It was quite interesting actually, bringing three people from completely different locations into one due to the friendship we shared.
“Jaejoong!” Junsu and Yoochun’s reactions as they recognized me were quite analogous. They were both jubilant to see me and yet, they were both sympathetic towards the pain and bitterness I was forced to experience during the past month. I pushed the subject to the back of my mind, hoping not to bring up such tedious disruptions during our vacation. Instead, I focused myself to introducing Yoochun to Junsu and acquainting the two of them with each other.
It didn’t take long for the two strangers to completely familiarize with each other. Yoochun’s garrulous personality fit it perfectly with Junsu’s flouting jokes, causing them to entwine within each other’s farcical yet comical conversations. By the time we had departed the airport, the two strangers appeared as if they were long lost brothers.
“Do you have any idea where we will be residing during our stay?” Junsu questioned as we situated into a French taxi, deviating from the international airport into the corners of Paris. “Jaejoong, didn’t you tell me that you and Yunho stayed at some extravagant hotel on the edge of town square? Why don’t we stay there?”
“Hotel de Crillon.” I clarified, recalling the sheer luxury I experienced for the first time in my entire life.
Yoochun gave Junsu a wry glare. “We can’t stay there! We obviously don’t have enough money.” He explained, bantering Junsu about his absurd fantasies.
“But that’s not fair! Jaejoong-hyung got to stay there! Why not us?”
I rolled my eyes, glancing out the window to view Paris’s enamouring afternoon scenery. “Look Junsu, I was only there because of the actor-because of my article.” I argued, hoping the dim-witted man would understand my situation. “Now that my article is finished, so is my time with him. I’m back to plain, boring Jaejoong, whether you like it or not.”
Yoochun let out a mischievous chuckle. “Yes, I thought your disguise as Yunho’s ‘assistant’ was rather queer as well.” Yoochun declared, tracing back to the days when Yunho and I stayed at his resort. “You didn’t pull off the image of an assistant really well, especially with the ‘plain boring Jaejoong’ holding you down.” He pointed out. “I had my doubts about you from the very beginning.”
“Of course.” I responded, exhaling in grief. “If only I could murder that ‘plain boring Jaejoong’ and experience that luxury again… that extravagance.”
Yoochun smirked, informing me that he had formed a reasonable idea within his mind. “I know of a sensible and inexpensive hotel situated at the heart of Paris.” He declared. “Although the extravagance is nowhere as close as that of Hotel de Crillon, there’s no reason why we can’t stay there.”
I nodded. “Perfect.” I assented. “The cheaper, the better.”
In French, the multi-lingual tour guide directed the taxi driver to navigate to our designated hotel. We arrived there within twenty minutes, thanking the driver and unloading our luggage from the taxi. Junsu, who had never been to Paris before, ogled at his surroundings and was breath taken by the radiant metropolis as soon as the sun had set. Immediately after checking into the inexpensive but standard hotel, the three of us took our cameras and departed to the sights of Paris.
The last time I had visited Paris, I was unable to explore the sights and monuments due to my crucial assignment and most of all-my fear. This time however, there was none of the sort holding me back from my touring, keeping me from soaring in any direction I wanted. With Yoochun, our astute tour guide, and Junsu, the comedian who would cheer us up whenever we needed it, I felt as if I had Paris in my own palms; no rules, and certainly no disruptions.
Our first stop was the infamous Arc de Triomphe, a fundamental place for every tourist to stop and visit. I, however, wasn’t exceptionally impressed with it-mostly because I wasn’t into traditional style architecture and ancient tales. I was enthralled mostly by the many roadside shops and cafés which inhabited the routes, suddenly becoming alive as the night life rushed through the city.
We stopped in one of the similar road-side cafés, fulfilling our appetites with French delicacies such as escargot de Bourgogne and confit de canard. During our savoury dinner, Junsu and Yoochun had a lengthy debate about how to correctly pronounce the French greeting ‘bonjour.’ Although the argument was quite useless and unneeded, it was rather amusing to listen to. Once the two of them were nicely drunk and insane, they began singing the well-known tune of ‘Au Champ Elysees’ in a cappella, forcing me to join in. I, however, was not very resolute to allow my voice into one of their ridiculous medleys. I had a horrible singing voice and fuck, I would look completely absurd to the French!
After our large plates of dinner, the three of us took a local taxi to the Louvre, the notorious museum responsible for producing the world’s most legendary masterpieces. The three of us were blessed with the opportunity of viewing paintings created by artists such as Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo.
After viewing the cryptic sculptures and paintings within the museum, the three of us navigated into another portion of town, allowing ourselves to experience yet another facet of the metropolis. Monuments such as the eloquent Eiffel Tower inhabited the lighted streets, permitting us to feel the luxury and the unique delirium Paris showcased.
To my misfortune, I was unable to tour the Eiffel Tower during my previous stay in Paris. During that point of my life, I was preoccupied with the actor and the actor alone, pushing aside the Eiffel Tower and instead escaping to a distant carnival to ride on a ridiculous Ferris wheel. This time however, I was determined to experience the tower for what it was-not interruptions, no doubts.
Without any hesitation, our group of three transported towards the tower cloaked in gold, letting our jaws drop as the filaments of lights shone vibrantly against the night sky. We took the elevator up to the top floor of the tower, allowing our eyes to scrutinize the legions of city streets. I let my arms retire to the windowsill, exhaling in awe at the aesthetic view.
I had deeply considered the motives of the tourists as they arrived in this heaven on earth. What were they to do when they embarked upon the symbol of love, the symbol of wealth and beauty? Would Paris and its Eiffel Tower allow them to fall madly in love, or would it nearly bring them to tears?
Paris was probably one of the reasons why I still felt so attached to the actor. The city provided me with a rush of rapture, rendering me powerless as I became prey to its memories. And now, even months later, I was unable to allow the thought of him to deviate my mind. I felt absurd, being such a frail and fragile weakling.
It was mainly the couples who were kissing earnestly upon the tower that drove me to my limits. While Yoochun and Junsu were breath taken by the spectacular sights, I was engulfed with envy from the many twosomes. Although Yunho and I experienced quite a lot of luxury during our time together, we weren’t able to experience this. I was a glutton for fairytale settings and Yunho’s love, and I nearly despised myself for being so selfish and melodramatic.
I glanced out at the ethereal moonlight, at the myriad of stars. Where would he be now? Would we be staring upon the same moon, feeling the same pain, or would he be numb, allowing the pain to dissipate and vanish completely?
It was rather difficult to impel myself to fall asleep that night. Although the tour of Paris had been quite strenuous, my emotions were not the least bit ready to retire onto the mattress.
I shifted in my sheets, hoping that I wouldn’t awake my two resting companions. Junsu and Yoochun obviously craved more sleep than I did, and it would be a cruel act to steal it away from them.
Finding it somewhat irritating lying emotionlessly on the mattress, I strolled over to the large window, severing the curtains and letting my eyes ransack the city clothed in gold. What was I doing here? Was I here to allow my eyes to view the dazzling scenery, or was I perhaps searching for something-something that would mean even the slightest?
My life was in complete disarray at the moment. I had no idea which emotion to feel or which face to put on. I wasn’t the one to mourn over my mistakes ad infinitum, and yet, after breaking rule three of the fan-boy rulebook, I couldn’t help but fee regretful.
Without warning, a gentle touch appeared on my right shoulder, causing me to turn around from the Paris scenery. Yoochun, in his island-style nightwear, appeared before me, painting a weak smile upon his lips in compassion.
“What are you doing up?” He questioned. “Go back to sleep Jae, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
I shook my head innocently. “I can’t.”
Yoochun rolled his eyes languidly. “Why?”
I chuckled in amusement. “If you realized what I’ve gone through, I’m sure you would understand the reason why.”
He scoffed and gave me an incredulous glare. “You can’t sleep because you’re mad at him.” He emphasized the word ‘him’ strongly, making me realize exactly who he was indicating towards. “And, you’re a total masochist for coming to Paris, especially because this place holds so many special memories.”
I lifted an eyebrow, marvelled at how much he already understood about the actor and me. “How come you know all this?” I questioned. “As far as I know, you were only present during our stay in Bora Bora.”
He sank into a nearby armchair, trying to organize his unkempt hairstyle. “Junsu told me.” He revealed. “He’s been trying to point out how he couldn’t understand why you came to Paris to me all day long.” He sighed, a sombre expression decorated upon him. “I understand everything now.”
“The two of you have gotten along quite well for complete strangers, haven’t you?” I asked, referring to him and Junsu.
He nodded. “We share interests. We complete each other’s sentences.” He paused slightly. “…just like you and Yunho do.”
I let myself rest on the sofa across Yoochun, hoping to make my eye contact parallel with his as we conversed. The tour guide certainly wasn’t dim-witted, for he knew everything there was to know about the turmoil I had endured the previous month.
“I recon that the two of you were mere ‘friends’ at first, am I right?” He asked, interested in the matter. “By the way you two quarrelled amidst my hotel… it was pretty obvious.”
I nodded, showing my assent. “But when Junsu informed me that you were his fan all along… that’s when I realized how much deeper your emotions became for him.” He exhaled, shaking his head in dismay. “In all my years of being a Korean citizen, I have never come across an idol who shared such intimate moments with a fan.”
I was ready to ridicule myself-not for my absolute weakness, but for my blatant haste. At first, I had appeared before the actor with no sign of fear, and now, I was drowned within my deep phobia, unable to escape the utter confusion.
“It was foolish.” I disclosed, a bit ashamed. “I should’ve known that everything would end up in vain from the very beginning.” I hung my head, hiding the tears which were beginning to form within my eyes. “I was such a child back then.” I protested. “I loved my idol like there was nothing else on earth to love. I detested the many actresses he was paired up with in the films, and I thought there was no one else on earth better for me than him. I claimed him as mine without knowing if he wanted to be mine.” I shrugged, slightly amused at the matter. “It was all my fault for jumping to conclusions with him. And yet, I return to Paris, trying to remember everything-trying to prove to myself that the man did love me once upon a time.”
Yoochun held worry in his eyes, showcasing the amount of empathy he garnered towards me. But no, I didn’t need his sympathy. Every misfortune brought upon me was my own mistake; there was no one else to blame.
“I’m sure he won’t forget you.” He responded solemnly. “I’m sure that instead of remembering you as a nuisance, he will remember you for the large amount of time the two of you spent together.” He argued, trying to exhilarate my spirits. “Besides, you weren’t the reporter from VX Magazine after all, right?”
I nodded. “I don’t think so.”
“I thought it was quite strange too.” He remarked. “A few days after the two of you settled into my hotel… and few Koreans decided to enter the resort as well. I tried questioning them about whether they were reporters or not, but they denied my suspicions, saying that they were mere tourists. Like the two of you wanted, I kept an eye on them… but nothing out of the ordinary happened.” He paused, deep in thought. “Nothing strange happened until that night… when the two of you were at the beach by yourselves without my company.”
I was astonished that he had solved the mysterious conundrum. “That’s right!” I agreed. “That was the only time when you didn’t know where we were!”
“That’s correct.” Yoochun assented. “I thought the two of you went to bed that night…didn’t you always retire to your room after a long day of travelling?”
“Apparently not that day.” I rolled my eyes, blaming the actor for his mistakes. “Yunho was the one who urged me to visit the beach with him that night…and that’s when the photographers caught us, right in the middle of our make-out session.”
Yoochun chuckled, entertained by my story. “So it was Yunho’s fault all along, not yours?”
I stared at the ceiling. “Technically.” I agreed. “But I’m not blaming him half as much as I’m blaming myself.”
“Those bastard photographers are the ones to blame.” Yoochun corrected, his tone bitter as he spoke. “I’m sure those lowlifes knew that I was tightening up security and keeping an eye on them… especially after I questioned them about their motives on the island. Because you two were out alone that night, I’m sure they took it as an opportunity to capture those photos.”
I sighed. “But little did they know that they were going to capture a million-dollar photo.” I reasoned. “Of two homosexuals at their best.”
Yoochun wore a slight grin, pitying me for my uncontrollable rage. “So Yunho is a homosexual…who cares?” He negligently asked. “If fans were actually supportive of him, they would be supportive of his sexual orientation, right?”
“Only the fans who are reasonable and mature.” I elucidated. “Not all fans will accept it, I’m sure of it.”
“I still don’t get what’s the big deal.” He continued. “Why must fans and the public embroil themselves within idols’ lives? It’s their own problems… no one has the right to scrutinize it except for themselves.”
“I agree.” I spoke, yawning from my lack of sleep. “But still, as a fan, I had gotten too close to him. It was I who wanted to observe his life; to peek into his mind if only for a second.”
“Jung Yunho is too amusing for anyone to ignore, isn’t he?”
“Obviously.” I replied. “He has the looks, the talent-everything.”
The multi-lingual hotel owner chuckled sardonically. “Look Jaejoong, I’m not going to stay up all night listening you fan-girl about your idol-excuse me, fan-boy.” He responded. “Go get some sleep, you’ll need it.”
“I told you, I can’t.”
“Oh will you stop it!” He argued as he climbed onto his mattress, trying not to awake Junsu as he manoeuvred through the sheets. “Just put your past behind you. The more you think about it the more it will hurt.” He fell back onto a pillow, closing his eyes. “And besides… none of this is your fault.”
I chose to value his words, following his example and retiring onto the soft mattress. Yoochun’s words echoed in my mind, lulling me to sleep gently with its comforting ideals.
Perhaps it really wasn’t a horrible experience, going through all this with Yunho. I had learnt a valuable lesson, one which I needed to accompany me throughout the rest of my life.
I had learned the same lesson the actor learned years ago-to never fully trust anyone, to not fall prey to the public’s meddling desires.
Additional to that, I had also learned the lesson which all fans needed to discover. I had realized once and for all that an idol could not possibly love a fan as much as the fan loved the idol-it was the truth, no matter how much it hurt.
Paris was no longer a city of love-of utter foolishness. It was a city of education; of many valuable lessons to be learned through previous mistakes.
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