NEVEЯMIND

a blunt instrument. seyun always feels the need to push everything. push friends, family, himself, things. away, out, closer. pull in what you can’t push. with someone like that there’s only so much you can do. seyun wonders if anyone will ever be able to get through to him. i wonder that as well. 

he’s very straight forward with his approach to everything.

never sugar coats his words and doesn’t let others tell him how to feel or what’s right.

he doesn’t even allow himself to dictate how he thinks, feels or what to do. we’re talking about a man who fights himself, would fight anyone or anything.

sometimes he’s so defensive that it’s crazy, and like what is he even defending against really?

something inside of him fried when he was a kid, wanting and needing attention but never getting it. he’s absolutely an avoidant personality. avoidant attachment style. he’s good at taking care of himself and doesn’t believe anyone else is going to do what they say. that adage “if you need something done, do it yourself.”

failure to understand others needs or how to meet them most of the time. he’s a selfish person but not because he wants to be, because he doesn’t know how not to be. it’s just something that was enforced and then hammer in afterward, like a box inside of a box.

few people in his life have ever managed to get him to even want to care about them. very few, and all of them he only cares because of what they gave him over time, to prove to him that they’re even capable of giving? he needs to receive in order to give, is what i’m saying.

by all accounts he is not a very kind or attentive person. not by his natural instinct that is.

when he does feel something he usually avoids it until he can’t anymore, only to blurt it out.

he desires people to lay plans for him so that he can pick and choose what he falls into until he’s decided the “worth” of someone?

but, when they mean something to him, he craves them.

he craves others, he craves all the things he pretends he doesn’t, and says he doesn’t need. i actually think he’s right? to some degree. he doesn’t need anything, or anyone.

but he wants them. he craves them, he wants touch, he wants love, he wants people to prove him wrong, he wants to care more when it matters.

and once he’s made up his mind he’s really good at just going for it. reaching for that sun and putting himself in overdrive.

music comes from the heart, does it? he keeps all revelations about how it came from frustration for him to himself. fans ask him sometimes what music means to him. freedom of expression? a way to let his heart sing? those are nice things to say, pretty words to flower in the soul. but music is just a means to an end. it’s a capstone, like the top for a bottle that keeps all the water in. it just keeps him from spilling all out onto the floor. music just keeps him sane. it filled the silence.

when he was young, music was not a passion it was a necessity. when it became his career, it was a necessity that gave back to him — monetarily and routinely. he still doesn’t enjoy it. but who is he without it? 

it raises a bigger question — what is love? what might passion be that doesn’t fizzle out and die within moments. it’s why he never stays long in love. love has never put a cap on his soul the way music has. love isn’t what held him together when he was so alone in his youth years.it’s why he picked up so many hobbies and why he didn’t give up on music. music couldn’t give up on him.

music can’t pull away. music may not always land or influence every person, but it does touch at least someone. he needs music the way he needs touch. touch starved. maybe music is just a part of him and it’s as simple (and complex) as that. not something that matters where it comes from, or where it touches inside of him. all that matters is that it’s a touch he’s always felt.

it’s just a conduit. in his career he’s had moments of questioning what matters to him, why it matters. looking fans in the eyes and wondering why they worship him when in reality, he couldn’t even explain to them why he’s there. no in words that would satiate any yearning they had for love, truth, romantic notions. music for healing, or whatever-the-fuck. fraudulence of character doesn’t warrant much guilt or long thought, however. sadly, over these years, it’s true that the only thing that matters to seyun, is just that.

seyun.

whether the fans would find him disappointing and melo-romantic doesn’t bother him in the slightest. music is love and light and healing? bullshit. would they think him a fraud? probably. and does he care even the slightest bit? hell no.

the number of hobbies he had fallen into since childhood was hard to pin down. so numerous that he didn’t even want to bother. sometimes they lasted, sometimes he lacked the interest after a week, or failed to get good at it immediately (which usually meant insecurities took over and if he isn’t good at it right away, was he really meant to do it- or so the self-destructive thought process goes) then there was some he did invest into. some that brought him results, good and mediocre, but results all the same.

dancing was never a hobby he took up when he was a kid. one of the few things that didn’t make the cut.

as a kid, he never felt like dancing. dancing was for happy kids, right? for kids who spent afternoons with something that made them want to get up and move. with passion for something, who were capable.

the music he listened to didn’t encourage it. and neither did his childhood.

there was no dancing from the boy who felt alone in the world. the only thing that could constitute it would be the way he stomped his feet in place in a temper tantrum that his mother pushed aside like he would get over it on his own. if that assumption had been correct maybe the parenting method would have panned out. but it wasn’t.

all he wanted was to be paid attention to. so no, dance never came easily to him. he never had any reason to. not even the music made him want to.

but when he became an idol, everything about his normal routines changed. he went off on his own, for real this time, without even the chance that his parents could change their tune on hi and suddenly give him what he needed.

he had a routine. he had practice —  practicing dance wasn’t a hobby it was a job.

when he first began, he resented the time he had to put into dance. to become good at what he already was supposed to be talented in. his company after all, was known for it. and they rode him hard to get it right. countless time spent in routines and in opening up a path to his stage presence that went beyond more than his face. it didn’t come naturally at first. (most things as an idol didn’t, unlike the fairy tale that he wanted to believe, raw talent isn’t enough to make things work, you need effort.) but over the years he’d refined his dance to reflect the quality of his gaze and steadiness of his voice.

in some ways he does envy his dance-line teammates. who all seemed to naturally command twice the stage that he did even when he was dancing his best. who all had cleaner lines, sharper moves and louder screams from the fans.

it’d be one of the perks of the job — he touches marble, with swirls the color of thunder and gold, delicately mixed atop the cloud white stone — if he didn’t hate the sight of it.

marble brings him back to being a kid. spilled milk doesn’t soak into marble, or tile. he would throw down his cup as a boy when his step mother entered the room and watch the way the plastic top shattered against the cold, hard ground. the liquid inside would spray, he’d cry (in sheer defiance, not in sorrow) and he’d wait. his mother as he wanted to know her, looked at the spill and that was the end of it. “i’ll have someone clean it.” she had said. there was no worrying about stains. it didn’t even warrant her attention. the look he got was as temporary as the spill before she left him there in his chair, feet dangling above the ground and arms stretched out. hoping for anything.

marble is cold.

he poses next to the recherché vines and flowers holding onto the romantic grate, surrounded by marble and cement and all he thought was how cold it was.

the fans like when mars does high fashion, elegant concepts. twilight is all about that. elegance. like a prince, like the twists of gold on marble, his suit was dark fabric with golden trims. it’s a gift that posing for pictures doesn’t require him to smile (a primary reason it was one of his favorite activities in his career), because it wouldn’t give good results.

the photoshoot goes very well. the weather is mild, and the setting reminds him of home. the shoot goes well, but that’s the only part. he checks out half way through the entire thing. and it’s lucky for him that no one cares how he feels, not unless it’s directly effecting performance. how avant-garde is his frowning face all day? carved in stone the same as the cathedral inspired designs. it’s bullshit — it’s better when the marble gives away to hard, faded and mossy concrete for the shooting location. it’s total bullshit. he doesn’t have to think about how much he hates the coldness of decadence. beauty in expense, absolute bullshit.

some days it feels like he’s gone too far from home. other days, it’s complete shit.

jazz plays over the intercom speakers on a sunday morning (at 11:24am) because pretentious is his family motto. any revelations about this fact are kept to himself. he’s around 13 years old and he doesn’t stick around long enough to complain about the music. he slaps the toaster oven closed and watches the heat wave red work it’s way to his toast. he hasn’t looked but his father is probably locked in the study. his step mother is no doubt painting in the foyer, wherever the sun best reaches her. (he looks forward to seeing her ugly painting just as much as he seems to, even though she thinks he’s playing it up for effect.) the jazz only goes on when everyone in their separate boxes, have similar things to do. absorb. 

seyun absorbs as well. absorbs his toast even though it’s hot and unappetizingly dry. peaceful, the jazz and careful notions of his father’s study and his mother’s painting, one of those sunday’s that urge on a nap — he slides in front of his drum set with the echo of a grin that there’s no one around to see. twirls the sticks in his hand after devouring the toast (drops the sticks because he hasn’t youtubed how to do tricks properly yet), picks them up and puts his slippered foot on the bass peddle. the first beat doesn’t bright the cavalry, but the snares that scream out beneath his untrained hand no doubt alert them. when he mocks an uneven melody over the toms that doesn’t sound like what he thought it would (because he can’t read music and is just playing by ear), he has no choice but to ignore it. 

it takes no time before his horrible rendition of 7 nation army is being halted with great prejudice by his step mother’s barging into his room. apparently it’s hard to focus with his music (she called it noise, but he takes extreme offense to that. he doesn’t call her excuse for art what it really looks like. he doesn’t get the same courtesy though). he yells at her that she doesn’t understand the process.

she says he can play drums in the back yard if he moves the set. he refuses.

once she looks like she might faint from irritation and leaves the room, he waits until the soft piano and percussions return from the built in speakers overhead before he lifts his sticks and slams them again.

meet shin seyun. this kid was born into hella money and reputation, responsibilities that put pressure on his shoulders from birth. he naturally blew it right off. just like his father before him 🤪

he gravitated towards music at a young age, but didn’t really take it seriously or sing every day or anything until he was about 12 years old. in the beginning he struggled with stamina and pitch control. the face and presence were on but the consistency of his voice wasn’t it. required a backtrack to make it work in the beginning. this kid was not exactly a rookie monster. underdog vocalist, the talent was there but not the fixins. 😭

shamelessly blamed that on mars debuting before he was good and ready but it was an excuse. 

he did buckle down in time.

his rebellious stage > always trying to sneak out and sneak others in, showing up late to practices and refusing to take anything seriously what so ever. lines up with his teens to 20 years old that he was a problem child.

after he turned 21 he did start to mature, got sick and tired of the managers backlash, and his half formed genius. it’s realistic to say he learned to love what he did enough to want to be good at it. took some time but it was like a growth spurt, non physical but please pay the respeck on his name for the glow up.

make no mistakes, he is in this for the fame.

he thought so at first that is...

the downsides of fame is that there’s no where to hide. every year that gets to him more and more. 

he got into this career so young and thought he wanted to be a rock star. 

poor kid had no clue what it really meant. other than the glamourous side of things. so his journey is far from over. he’s refined his craft, become a much better singer, learned to like what he does, but also learned to hate what he does. if music was like family, he feels like he can’t disown it after all this time, because he does love it- but it’s like, there’s all the intimate things he can’t stand about it.

he’s in mars, and will be taking up main vocal 1. a powerful vocalist and well rounded idol (at least in 2021 he is, not in the beginning). he has a unique voice, known for ‘soul vocals’.

his relationship with his group is very individualized. not exactly a mars stan himself. the fact that he’s in a group is take it or leave it for him. more loyal to individuals than groups. that goes for his own as well.

cuts people off when it suits him and without warning or excuses.

good at saying no and not usually guilt tripable.

really can’t stand to see someone he hates happy, and can’t stand to see someone he loves happy without him. at any cost.

it might seem like he has a bad attitude or doesn’t like people since he’s good at arguing but he shows a lot of affection that way. difficult to tell whether he’s serious sometimes.

good at going above and beyond when put on the spot.

if it comes down to losing, he’ll do anything to avoid that. that leads him to keep even bad things in his life because he doesn’t want to ‘lose’ them.