#id.kim jaejoong

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON OLYMPUS’ LEAD VOCAL KIM SEWOON…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 29 DEBUT AGE: 21 SKILL POINTS: 15 VOCAL | 07 DANCE | 04 RAP | 14 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Lyric writing

INTERVIEW

i. they called him dirty when he walked into the audition, bad hair colouring and clothing thrown into one big chaotic avant-garde piece on a body. he put the same chaos where his mouth was, fighting early judgement with a whip in the mouth. they couldn’t get rid of it then, there was too little time to teach an old dog new tricks, so, instead, they groomed him - cleaned up his appearance and cut his tongue rounder. he became the unlikely mix of sweet and toned down sour, his appearance serving for a cold demeanor while an inviting, proud smile emphasized all the fairy tales coming from his mouth. it cleaned up for anything straightforward that slipped out. there was little way to foresee how big his next step would be and how close he’d be willing to get to the edge of acceptable behavior. he played a game, nimble fingers rolling the dice exiting and eye catching – undeniably hard to ignore.

ii. it seems that everything about him is different when he comes back from the army. from his stance and walk all the way to his demeanor, he’s changed for the better or worse. there’s an aura of a grown up around him, a lack of a rebelling teenager smirk prominet. the calm and collected attitude is a whole other extreme none of the fans, members or staff in the company are used to. it was like a fall of personality, about which he found himself conversing in the company. after a head was nodded (‘make the change smoother, we don’t need culture-shock’ – as if the lost member coming back wasn’t one in the start), the new him was observed by a panel of others - one that seemed to be consisting of the whole world, as for the first six months comments about how different he seemed and how well he did in ‘tell me’ were the only things he heard. with ocean’s calm in his eyes and a smile of zen, he nodds along it and falls into an open discussion when given the chance. matured, they say, as they pat his shoulder. now he’s a real idol.

BIOGRAPHY

i. it was dead silent as they dined. not that many more voices ever rang in the household, ice walls tall and proud between each person kneeling behind the table. the most vivid sound in his memory is his father flipping pages of a newspaper while his mother blew into a spoon to cool down the tasteless everyday broth. the youngest pair of eyes behind the table were the only ones looking up, flickering between the rustling of a page turned and a human produced breeze throughout the whole hour of dinner. silence of strangers was natural for a family with discord, words the equivalent of static to each other’s ears as they leave the mouth. a man of authority whose uniform was glued to his frame no matter the occasion, controlling and prideful of sucking the life out of a rose-cheeked ten year younger prima ballerina who fell before her career could even start after a cruel twist of faith. or, rather, an ankle. and then there’s the kid - round, dove eyes and striking up conversations, questions raised fading into the dull atmosphere in the room having received no reaction. the best the young soul could do was chew at his rice as his curious gaze turned more spiteful with each evening passing.

ii. the first time the two gazes turned to their blood was when he smashed his metal chopsticks against the table, sound resonating in the dimly lit room. the boy who grew up in silence and in between cold demeanor was so surprised at the attention the original rant he had been writing in his head ever since realization that strangers is a more fitting way to describe the group of three than family.

“i- am bleaching my hair.”

he had never seen the visual of mother chocking and his father patting her back as something like a hiss left his mouth. from the look of it, it was directed at the notorious. it’s amusing, the reaction. so much so that he buys the silver box himself out of his pocket money for lunch. the work is sloppy and slightly remindful of one dropping a sunny-side egg on top of their head, but this time he’s the only one behind the table looking down, relishing with the slightest uplift of the corners of his lips as chopsticks hit them with peaces of food.

iii. everything in the open is based on obtaining a reaction, books read and subjects learned left to the darkness of his bedroom. but the hair colours changing with every other season became a casual occurrence. whatever ink left marks on his skin after the boy hit legal age along with the delusion of independence dried in the heads of his closest strangers. the turned man with the preference of an oil and fire combination slowly swung on his chair behind the table as he honked for attention much more purposefully than the teenager had a few years back.

“i’m auditioning.”

“where?”

“to be an idol.”

a hand hits the table, making the plates dance along to the song of the young man’s victory. one he also celebrated in his head as the amusement he longed for was back on his features.

“you don’t even sing.”

“you don’t know that.” he shoots his mother down, ignoring the bull-like breaths taken from his left, undeniable anger sprouting in his own tone. a spicy atmosphere would have felt endearing hadn’t the woman on the right opened the door of connection - the same one that didn’t exist in the household.

“can you dance?”

that’s more like it.

“can’t everyone?” no, he figured out later.

the fizzle coming out of his father’s nose was distracting, an image of a hog, breaths fogging up right at the tip of his nose. the image put up on the same wall of ice between the family members as an accomplishment, the boy has enough decency to thank his mother for the meal before excusing himself.

“son, you’re too old.”

“you would surely know that, mother.”

iv. too old. that didn’t seem like a reasonable factor but not all minds thought alike. it was one lesson the young man learned while standing in front of multiple panels, judges and camera tests. the habit of shooting blindly at any comment made – defense mechanism of sort – was effective only in front of ones he developed it in the first place.

the answer was always too similar “you can talk and have a good voice but it doesn’t make up for what you’re lacking. you’re a bad dancer, you’re attitude needs fixing, your appearance is dirty.” in the end it was all wrapped in a nice bow of not enough time for him to make up for what he was lacking and develop what he naturally had. no matter how many philosophies on time, it doesn’t wait, - by the years it might have taken the nineteen year old lacking, he would have become an unattractive age for a debuting idol.

after a twist of faith of his own, a thought flashes in his head that maybe he was, in fact, too old for this. he thought about it all the time as sweat dripped down on the floor from the tip of the nose of the crouched man after the n'th practice of the same dance routine or singing his breath out as songs blared loudly in the room. it was undeniable he lacked, stamina most of all, the nickname of ‘five’ sticking to him like glue as the trainee found himself showing the palm of his hand at people who tried talking to him in the moments of practice.

“five more minutes.”

in his defense, he was genuinely trying.

v. debut, comebacks and stable attention make time slip past digits like sand. it mixed well with the loud siren he was, portrayed as an unlikely sweet and sour that complimented his sharp eyes, he felt himself prospering even when labeled a growing concern inside of his group no matter how shiny and glittery the company served the lead vocalist.

the way his manager pushed a letter in front of him, typing on the letter too formal for it to be one of a fans’ was implicate, eyes quickly scanning trough the paper, the content triggering memories from teenage years. his father’s pushes in the ‘righteous’ direction with an underlying traditional want for his son to step into his shoes flashed in vivid, bleeding colour. except that the company had much more than family ties with the twenty-six year old. a contract straight from hell signed with his blood.

‘olympus’ sewoon early military enlistment’

not so breaking when most netizens seemed to have foreseen it, already blaming him for the breakup of the group in ten more years or so. meanwhile the man turned into a rebelling teenager once more, much more silent under contract as he hissed at the pains of the needle of a tattoo gun sinking into soft flesh, making as many feelings in pictures and words. they were the last kicks of a newborn before learning how to crawl.

vi. the comeback is rather underwhelming, a few waves and a subtile smile at a fan or two waiting before hiding in the comfort of the company van that picked him up.

h i d i n g.

he’s back unrecognisable. the changed body frame and stance couldn’t beat the absence of a once booming voice. eyes somehow softer, just like his new neutral smile, he became an observer – calm and collected, lingering somewhere in the back. a man with a the perfect ratio of gentleman and silence, all on top of an endearing visual. truthfully, he fell out of what was labelled as ‘himself’ as he marched between men dressed in neutrals. strategies replaced acting on impulse, encouragement bowed in front of a set amount of rules he got used to under the strict influence. cash pools of tattoo parlous suffered from the lack of the man under the gun even after he came back. conversations with fellow members becoming mellow, awkwardness heavy in the air after the reappearing of the two year lost member with collages of it molded into small videos all over internet. the company’s hair dressers were ecstatic - at least they didn’t have to guess what colour his hair would be when they show up to work anymore, because everything stopped abruptly.

kim sewoon became an enigma. there, but not really. loud, but not quite. attentive, but somewhere in his own head. a man lost in the papers he kept scribbling on ever since he developed the habit of lyrical thought during night time while away.

truthfully, he was becoming his father. the only thing he was lacking was a uniform.