#idsejun

angel – who do they most want to protect or shield? from what? why?

san is an isolated soul. for the first couple of years debuted, there wasn’t really anyone in life that he could depend on aside from his mother. eventually, it shifted. people joined midas, or debuted where they were able to meet up, connect. he mentored on a show, and ended up wanted to actively help someone for what might’ve been the first time in his life. so he supposes that, now, there are a whole collection of people he doesn’t want to lose. doesn’t want to see get hurt. but there was only one person there, in the before. one person who’s still there with him. a presence that’s helped shape who he is as a person -- and that would be his mother. 

he loves her, of course he does. what son wouldn’t? and sometimes he hates her. but he hoards that like the shame-filled secret that it is.

it might seem silly -- what is there to protect her from? she’s removed from the industry (to an extent). she perches on san’s shoulder, chimes in with her opinions, pushes him toward more opportunities. but insiders aren’t circling her like vultures, not like they do with her friends. there’s no threat of journalists digging up a dating scandal on her and throwing it towards the masses. but he does want to protect her. he does want to keep her happy. and if he stops and thinks about it for long enough, he realizes it’s from his own actions, opinions, constant fuck-ups.

but isn’t that what all children want?

that’s what he’s convinced of. doesn’t everyone want to smother the parts of themselves that disappoint their parents. doesn’t everyone wear their shame ringed around their necks when they know they’ve gone and done something that will make them upset? and san protects her in his own ways. he follows her whims. he does what she wants. he practices, and he spares her the details when he breaks. he debuts, and he finds fame. he lets her capitalize off of his name. anything to make her happy. 

( ISAC EVENT ) | 365 w. with @idsejun​ + PRE-60m SPRINT

dongwoo’s first worry when he steps foot into the venue is that everyone will see him at his most under-dressed. athletic-chic isn’t and has never been his style. he isn’t known for appearing in anything less than a brand-name blazer or slacks or shoes. coming here means dressing-down, and if management wanted to make him look as put-together as possible, this is certainly the worst way to do it, looks-wise. god knows that dongwoo isn’t his best with a hat on to cover his face, or with just accessories to spice up this bland ath-wear. it isn’t even ath-leisure, which makes it ten times worse, and makes his mood even more so. he might as well say goodbye to any possibility of modelling gigs at this point. isac has never been his time of the year. it’s more for the variety people, or the ones who can pull of shirts and shorts and call it a day. 

sejun, for example, catches his eye, particularly because he’s one of those people. as much as dongwoo hates to admit it, that boy has potential when he looks like he’s not trying too hard. even now, in colours that everyone picks for them, sejun pulls it off with more ease than dongwoo, and that’s insulting enough on its own. he can’t blame the guy – some people are just more gifted than others, and it’s unfair that people like dongwoo have to try harder than the rest of them and still be subpar. one would think that he’d be much better at controlling his impulses about this type of thing by now, but there’s a certain stubborn arrogance in every step he takes towards his dongsaeng, meaning to assert some form of dominance. it’s banal and idiotic and his intent would make him seem like a neanderthal, but when all is said and done, he can’t help but grin his most sarcastic one yet when he nudges the guy’s shoulder to get his attention.

@idsejun

the recent scandal may have caused him to be banned from all social media, but they can’t ban him from talking to people he might consider as friends. being ‘disconnected’ isn’t all that good as it’s advertised to be. there’s a lot to be missed, a lot of gossip in the workplace when he’s allowed in the building. mostly, he’s just been on house arrest, driving himself crazy on the games his group mates leave behind or whatever-the-fuck he can get his hands on. sure, for the first few days it was easy to lose himself in art, having more time to sketch out new outfit ideas unlike when he’d been half-assing that college degree, but at this point he’s all out of patience for the dirt left behind by erasers and the now-rough scratch of paper that not many people probably notice. the side of his palm is scuffed enough by the surface to be aware of it more than ever. the hand lotion hidden in his drawer is nearly finished, anyway – that’s probably a good sign to turn his attentions to something else.

and it’s always something else, one interest after another once the previous one has burnt him out. his mother wouldn’t approve, say somehow that he should leave before it wears him out, but this kind of house arrest was never his decision to make. it’s been a whole day since they gave him his phone back, and surprisingly enough, it’s not been put back to factory settings like he feared. (all those wonderful photoshoots he forced his friends to take of his outfits, yet to be posted!) the first thing he does, of course, is play by the rules, for now. he’s not known by his manager to do that to often, but now he does, and it doesn’t take long for the guy to approve an instagram photo that makes it seem like he’s actually going outside instead of, say, suffering from having most of everything taken away. heck, now he’s even asking permission to go out. just because he’s legally allowed to leave doesn’t mean that his manager won’t strongly suggest that doing anything out of line will lead to permanent career termination. the next thing on the list is to keep himself up-to-date with the goings-on, strictly focusing on anyone other than himself, until he finds a suitable person to converse with.

bored out of his mind, there’s little he can do aside from wait to be picked up by the management towards the concert venue (unsure if he’d even perform), or some other rented-out gym (to practice for the upcoming isac event he’s fortunately allowed to be a part of). if bothering people he guesses might be in need of his attention (because who isn’t, after a week of silence?) would alleviate boredom that’s enough to kill a man, then he’s desperate enough to do it. he sends a quick text to his target of choice before putting together an outfit of his own, determined to enjoy time out for as long as he’s allowed.

@idsejun

         SOLITUDE  IS  A  NECESSITY.  IN  such  a  business  as  his,  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  artist,  staff,  and  fan  alike,  it  is  too  easy  to  get  swept  up  in  the  tide  of  sheer  numbers.  he  stands  out,  tall  and  lanky  and  pale  and  world  - weary,  but  that  is  the  last  thing  he  wants.  often  times,  jianhong’s  greatest  desire  is  to  climb  into  his  bed,  cocoon  himself  in  his  blankets,  and  stay  there  indefinitely.  however,  he  understands  that  he  signed  up  a  life  of  the  complete  opposite.  his  days  were  filled  with  work,  work,  and  more  work  ---------  a  variety  of  tasks  that  included  performances,  practice,  and,  if  he  was  lucky,  the  opportunity  to  work  on  personal  projects.  also  a  regular  variety  guest,  jianhong  had  very  little  time  to  himself  during  the  day.

         naturally,  he  took  to  the  dark,  to  moonlight,  to  ...  recharge,  in  a  way.  he  liked  the  quiet,  just  being  accompanied  by  neon  lights  and  the  occasional  passing  car.  he  was  careful  never  to  get  caught,  lest  he  be  suspected  of  illicit  activity,  and  often  swathed  himself  in  warm,  oversized  sweatshirts  and  combined  a  pair  of  sunglasses  with  a  black  face  mask.  suspicious,  perhaps,  if  someone  saw  him  walking  down  the  street,  but  nobody  was  out  that  late  anyway.

         or,  so  he  thought.

         although  jianhong  usually  considered  himself a  prudent  person,  he  was  prone  to  the  occasional  lapse  --------  failing  to  check  the  weather  before  he  stepped  out,  all  he  had  with  which  to  shelter  himself  from  the  storm  was  his  hood.  he’s  lucky  that  he  comes  across  an  awning,  and  the  man  ducks  quickly  underneath  it  as  he  jumps  from  a  clap  of  thunder.  jianhong  sighs,  slipping  off  his  hood  and  shaking  off  what  wetness  permeated  it  to  coat  his  hair.  only  when  he  looked  to  the  side  did  he  jump  again,  noting  finally  that  he  wasn’t  alone.  a  young  man,  close  to  his  age,  had  the  same  idea  as  him.  not  any  young  man,  though.  there’s  something  niggling  in  the  back  of  his  head.  this  is  someone  he  knows,  or  someone  he  should  know.  jianhong’s  brows  furrow  as  he  tries  to  place  the  familiar  face.  

UMBRA – For idols: What’s your favorite title song that you’ve recorded, why?

the easy questions keep coming, and kd is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. there’s absolutely nothing wrong with easy questions. in fact, he welcomes them, boring as they are, because these are ones he can spout off the truth about without being berated afterwards. he’s tired of being told what to do, what to say, and frankly, having this kind of liberty is always welcome. at least this time, he’s allowed to choose what he can say. 

MAGAZINE INTERVIEW MEME.

solstice – describe your ideal type

it’s the sort of question that comes up a lot. it’s the sort of question that becomes grating after a while. the sort of question you dart around with bland sorts of answers in tow. i want someone who is kind, i want someone who is funny. the sort of things that could fit literally anyone. that nobody could draw conclusions over. write up articles that proclaim that so and so was hinting about dating someone else. san’s always been painfully careful about staying away from that sort of thing. keeping his image clean. san’s not even sure what his genuine ideal type is. there’s too much there. complications and a mishmash of ideas, wants, desires. hot and cold, and san had really taken after his mother.

“truthfully, it isn’t something i think about very often.” it’s not, because san has too much else on his plate, and when he gravitates toward someone it’s generally not because they fit into a certain mold he’s decided he already likes. but this answer is repeated so often that it has more packaged with it. they market san as work-obsessed. they market him as uninterested in anything that deviates from it. it’s a little true, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people he slots himself next to, falls into. but he doesn’t hint at that. just steamrolls on.

“i guess at the moment, just. someone nice. someone funny? who matches my personality. i think just someone who i feel comfortable around would be enough for me.” he decides, the same bland-as-ever answer nearly all idols give. he doubts the reporter was expecting anything different. he doesn’t talk about messy dark hair that spills into darker eyes. he doesn’t talk about strong hands, the beginnings of callouses at the joints of fingers. he doesn’t talk about poetic fanaticism, or the way heavy shoulders roll back against his palms whenever san decides to reach out, touch. he doesn’t talk about a raw talent that makes him chew his tongue bloody, or the growl of a sleep-thick voice, doesn’t talk about the smell of cherry cigarettes and fresh linen. he doesn’t, because then he’d have to go and admit it to himself. that he’s carving an ideal out of a boy. that he’s shaping him into something that might matter to him. and that would be terrifying.