september 17th, 1999 elias michael park was born in victoria australia, he’d have a hell of a life ahead of him.
when chaesoo and eric had their one and only son their whole world changed. chaesoo stayed at home, taking care of him everyday with joy in her eyes. eric did what he loved, he advertised for essentially every big brand he could. his company had plenty of money and eric was paid well enough. the small family of three was more than well off in there studio apartment.
as elias grew from a crying infant to an inquisitive toddler, his mother found his hands busy in paint, the reds, blues, greens, and every other color of the rainbow covered the walls. she one day after her son had been put to bed and eric was working late sat and admired those tiny hand prints in the plethora of colors and wept. it wasn’t because the pristine white walls had been varnished, but because they had been perfected. when eric came home and found his wife sobbing he was more than concerned, but when she sobbed out in joy he too, wept.
the young parents loved their son to death, even through the terrible twos. as a two year old elias began babbling and throwing things. this escalated the painting with hands on the wall to channeling his inner jackson pollock and throwing the paint on the walls. the artist and her husband didn’t really mind the wild colors, it only added to the stories of that apartment. they weren’t too worried about a security deposit. as he went from two to three elias strayed from the paint and turned to music, banging on the xylophone, hitting pots and pans, and making noise on just about anything he could. his mother, after finding a violin instructor willing to teach someone so young, took away all the paint.
middle school was when his skill in music truly grew, even with the move to korea and the divorce of his parents. he never let his fathers disinterest from him and his mother get in the way. elias loved the way the metal strings felt in his hand, the way the bow fit perfectly in his hands. he’d spend every afternoon in one of the schools practice rooms, working on scales, solo pieces, ensemble pieces, anything that could help him practice.
in korea he lost the violin a bit, most of his time being dedicated to rapping and dancing, working hard towards a debut. his violin sat in its case and went wherever he did, so he could practice as he needed too. but now with being debuted he hardly ever had time for the passion he once held so dear… had he truly changed so much he forgot his passion?
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