#id.oasis

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON OASIS’ MAIN VOCAL SONG JAESUN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 17 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: MSG ETC: he is currently making a career in acting (in musicals and film)

IDOL IMAGE

in the beginning, jaesun fit oasis’ concept perfectly in his own way. he was youthful, boyish, bright and playful, the kind of mischievous that made you want to pinch his cheeks more than punish him for it. he was rowdy, laughed hard and overreacted on variety for that two second reaction shot, spoke up constantly during interviews and shows and carried an air of confidence that attracted rather than repelled. he was to put himself out there any way he could, lay the charm on thick, crack jokes, be refreshingly honest. and it worked well. because to the uninitiated, he was like a ray of sunshine pointing them towards the entrance to oasis, and the other two blocked the exit. 

he was the middle-man, image-wise. he wasn’t ethereal or delicate or untouchably pretty, he wasn’t silent or intellectual or your ideal boyfriend. he was the loud, tanned boy from jeju island who had nothing but hard work to get to where he was now. he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, but the fun little brother that made you want to ruffle his hair and punch him in the shoulder when he got too mouthy (but of course, not too mouthy, just the right amount, jaesun, be careful). 

all in all, it was an image that aged well enough even as their image matured and strayed from their initial noona concept. now, he’s just somehow grown even more confident, bordering on cocky, but pulled over as humorous. and instead of a little brother, he feels more like that jokingly flirty friend you roll your eyes at but love nonetheless because he’s fun company. 

he gives off a vibe like anyone could very well be his best friend, like he isn’t just putting on an act and grinning for the sake of it. 

IDOL HISTORY

may 1993. 

when he was born on a bright spring afternoon in jeju, his parents didn’t hesitate to name him jaesun. they’d chosen it carefully over months, each hanja syllable standing for something they both wished upon him: jae (才) meaning talent, sun (善) meaning virtuosity, kindness. in his mom’s version of his birth story, she’d always say she knew they named him aptly when he came out laughing instead of crying. his dad’s version was always more truthful, because he claimed he could never forget how clearly and how loudly he cried. but ultimately, he agreed they couldn’t have chosen a better name, if only for the smile jaesun put on his mother’s sweaty face when she first held him, and throughout the many years after. 

may 1998.

they lived in the city out of necessity, but he’d been out by the mountains and by the oceans more often than any buildings. song-song tours, his parents called it. a small family tour business that did just well enough to pay the bills, but did more than enough to shape jaesun’s childhood. he slept in the seats of their tour bus more than he did his own bed, bounced around in those same seats while doing homework, playing handheld video games, then eagerly jumped out as soon as it screeched to a halt in front of the blue sea or the green mountains before his mom could slap any more sunscreen on his tanned skin. if anyone asked him, the entire island was his home. he grew up on that tour bus, raised by two parents that showered him with love because they couldn’t give him much else, but that had been enough for jaesun. the older tourists that so often boarded their bus gave him everything else.  

he was five when he accidentally discovered his future love for music, mindlessly singing his own nonsensical made up lyrics to the bus’ jingle as the tourists hopped on. one grandma in particular had been charmed, going so far as to pinch his sunkissed cheeks and slide him a few pieces of candy, further sweetened with compliments. he grinned his thanks back, and another grandma cooed, prompting him to sing for nearly the rest of the ride. the attention was satisfying, the laughter even more so, the snacks and folded 1000 won bills the cherries on top. 

as he grew, so did his singing skills thanks to a few singing lessons here and there when his mom could afford it -- which, admittedly, wasn’t often, but he had a natural talent for it anyway (if anyone asked him). and it showed on his little tour bus performances. when there was down time and not much for his mom to say about the trees they were driving by, he’d take over instead with a sunny smile on his face, singing trot songs for the grandmas, getting them to sing along all while walking down the aisle with a straw hat in his hand turned backwards to accept offerings wordlessly. 

even out of the bus, he quickly learned how to work his charm in the food markets and elsewhere, netting discounts or freebies every so often. but maybe most notably, he also learned that he loved to perform. whether at small local talent shows or festivals, he basked in the attention, the adoration, the confidence it filled him with.

may 2005.

jaesun had just turned thirteen when his parents brought up the idea of him moving to busan with his uncle. in just a year or so he’d be starting high school, and they wanted more for him than jeju could ever offer. it had been a hard sell because jaesun’s entire life was jeju, but a quick family trip to haeundae and a friend he quickly made while there was all it took to convince him. one week after returning to jeju, he was all packed and ready to move.

he made friends quickly enough, because of course. he was song jaesun, chatterbox extraordinaire with a funny little accent and a deep toned hum of a laugh. and though he found ways to continue singing when he could because music was big there, he was too young for the rock music scene, and it wasn’t his genre anyway. so, while busan and the sound of crashing waves reminded him of home, it never quite became that and his grades weren’t anywhere near good enough to justify his move there for ‘better opportunities’. 

may 2006. 

one year later, better opportunities fell right into his hand in the form of an audition flyer. 

the flyer had advertised for some unknown entertainment company looking to get started with a few trainees, but it sparked an idea in his head. it got the ball rolling, had him practicing his singing even more so than usual, had him quietly researching the large entertainment companies and their groups and members, had him looking up open audition dates and bus tickets to seoul, until he was ready and made the trip up there with a friend. 

seoul was large and bustling, but with his nerves and the way they beelined their way to msg’s building, he barely had the time or sense to notice. all he could focus on was the audition, to which he walked into head held high and grin stretched wide. he used the charm he pulled on grandmas back home, and the vocal skills he honed (to the best of his untrained ability) over years of practice, and won the judges over in no time -- at least, in his version of the story. in reality, he waited a few agonizing weeks before hearing back. but regardless, it turned out as he had hoped. they loved him: song jaesun the easily marketable bright charmer from jeju with a nice set of pipes. and his parents, supportive as ever of their boy potentially making it in a big city, signed his contract with little hesitation and helped him move into a cramped apartment with his aunt up in seoul.

may 2007. 

for someone who cruised through his younger years, regimented trainee life and having to still keep up with school work had been tough. he learned many things under msg entertainment, like how to speak without his accent, how to dance while singing, how to properly use his voice. but he also learned what exhaustion felt like, what disappointing people felt like. it’d almost been a big knock to his confidence, but he always explained everything away. it was never his fault, he just had an off day, the trainers were just too harsh, or deaf, or blind. he was by far their best vocal trainee, if anyone asked him, anyway. 

which his parents did as they called often, asked to make sure his aunt was feeding him well, told him constantly they were so proud of him and couldn’t wait to see him on tv and prove all their friends wrong. a little island boy could make it in the city. 

just wait and see, they’d tell them. 

may 2011. 

the wait took longer than jaesun had hoped for, but when oasis’ debut came colored in bright pastels, he reveled in it. their initial concept was received with some skepticism by those outside of their target audience, but he shined. appealing to older women had always been his thing since his first impromptu tour bus performance and it felt natural, easy. he knew how to grin just right, knew exactly how to croon ‘noona’ in a way that tugged at their heartstrings, knew how to work a crowd. in a small group of three where the other two had more shy, softer images to begin with, he filled the silence, projected enough confidence for the three of them combined. 

and as they grew over the years, as did his confidence (read: cockiness). he played it up, exaggerated it for variety, but he always did believe it himself. he had to. he always had to. especially as the years passed and other groups took the national spotlight he always craved, when his own group member started taking more and more of his lines, and when their youthful image wasn’t so fitting anymore, or when small rumors linking him to a few actresses changed his label from noona killer to cocky playboy. 

so, yeah. he had to wear his confidence like an armor, because that’s all he ever knew. 

may 2017. 

when their group schedules started winding down, his fans started to wonder why he hadn’t released any solos yet. he was the main vocal, after all, with more than enough stage presence to carry himself just fine. his group member rose as a soloist, so why didn’t he?

in a sort of roundabout way, he answered them by getting cast in his first film. 

it hadn’t been too surprising of a move. it’d already been revealed years prior that he had chosen to major in acting, but it was still a bit head scratching. the movie wasn’t received too well, and it was a special tv-only release, but jaesun ignored that as he always did. confident as ever and with a newfound interest in acting that no one could overshadow him in, he continued on. 

may 2019. 

now, he’s found his footing outside the group. it’s not exactly what he’s always hoped for, but it’s something that’s his and his alone. something’s missing that he can’t quite put his finger on, like he’s missed the right timing, missed his window to really shine. but no one would ever know it by looking at him. 

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON OASIS’ MAIN RAP, LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE HWANG MILO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 17 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: MSG ETC: he has established a reputation in modeling and works extensively with various brands

IDOL IMAGE

it’s their first photoshoot together, for a minor magazine, with some of the girls from one of the older girl groups, some of the senior artists. they all have the same hairstyle, a tousled swoop of perfectly accented curls. button downs under sweaters in saturated vintage inspired colors, a color palette of peacock blues and forest greens, khaki and beige to offset, a study in shorts and loafers and chunky knit socks. they look soft like this, toeing the line between boyish and promising, an ambiguity to the imagery that plays well to their youth but doesn’t rely on it. milo’s dark tan is a contrast to the coloration of his clothing, accentuated by the blush they dust on his cheeks and the gold of the accessories he wears. he sells the photoshoot well, the image perfectly. there’s an air of something rough around the edges to him, something a little bit shy and a little bit rumpled. he puts his foot in his mouth and despite having quite the mature visual for his age thanks to height and the broadness of his shoulders, he struggles to stand out. spends most of his time quiet, a husky laugh at the jokes the other’s crack, looking to one of the other boys for cues.

when oasis debuts, he’s billed as a lot of things. main rapper, lead dancer, lead vocalist. that is to say, mostly, that there’s a better dancer on the roster, and a better vocalist on the roster, and by default that has left him to the verses that can be somewhat construed as rapping, mostly reliant on his unique vocal tone, something to offset the lilting and airy brightness of one and the full and honeyed depth of the other. he’s a staccato jab in the middle of the song or a rumbled transition murmured through a bridge, juxtaposed against the adlibbing of one of the other boys.

milo plays the angle of the boyfriend look. he’s boyish, he’s good at sports. he smiles widely and brightly in a way that speaks to innocent, but his expressions on stage can twist easily towards alluring, a fact that re-doubles as he grows older, more confident in himself, more comfortable in his skin. at debut he’s known for his shyness, his quietness. he’s reserved and mysterious, that’s the official reasoning. in time he grows out of this, in time he grows comfortable. goes on some sports related variety shows, has some brief guest appearances here and there. he plays well with the group members and he performs well, but it’s clear he’s never going to be the kind of start that gets the real spotlight. that seems reserved for others.

he grows, and into it he adjusts to the boyfriend image. clean cut clothes, simple and relatable styling, button downs and jeans, tshirts, sweaters and cardigans. he’s soft to offset the hard edges of his jaw. the femininity of rounded lips and long lashes is tempered by broad, well muscled shoulders, and thick thighs become a topic of discussion on pann. just as easily he’s described as a paper doll, for the narrowing of his hips and a willowy frame when touring, weight that fluctuates because it’s hard to keep to a muscle building diet on tour.  he’s sweet, intellectual, his image is compellingly positive despite being, on the whole, a bit bland. there’s something about him that’s a little bit daydream-y, a little bit romantic, a sort of vintage appeal that harkens to paris, to the lost generation, to dusty libraries and warm washed sepia tones, and brands eat this up. he learns his angles and pursues fashion modeling with enthusiasm, eager to showcase himself somehow, even if it isn’t quite his ideal. after all, perhaps his chance will come, someday.

IDOL HISTORY

SETTING: busan, the seaside.

the hwang family sits on a spread out picnic pad, the clever kind with a delicate gingham pattern and an insulated foil underside, weighted at the corners so that it won’t flutter away. hwang milo is a mop of curly hair and tanned skin, his mother has a book spread open on her lap, painted in colorful watercolor. “poems to read aloud,” is the title, and her delicate voice drips like honey over the unfamiliar words, while milo plays in the center of the mat. his father sits with a fond look on his face and a notebook at his side, they’re never all that far away.

milo grows up like this, surrounded by words, loved by his parents, drenched in the decadence of literature.

SETTING: busan national university, faculty offices.

hwang milo is ten years old. he has a raging fever and shivers with cold sweats, laying on the couch in his mother’s office, wrapped in blankets. she ducks in between meetings and classes to check on him, because with a fever this high they can’t leave him unattended at home. it’s far from the first time he’s visited his mother’s workplace - his father’s, too - and it is sure not to be the last. even ill, he is surrounded by books, reading the famed titles off the bindings as he glances around the small room. eventually he pulls down a smaller book, one that seems like he could find it interesting. a moveable feast. ernest hemingway. he likes the way the name sounds.

SETTING: busan, dance studio.

milo loves the books that his parents surround him with, but he’s found another love, too.  in music and in rhythm, in the rolling throb of the bass and the thud and stutter of his heart in reaction. he breathes in notes and breathes out movement, transforms the maelstrom in his heat into expression. it’s not the way his parents choose to do it, with their pens and paper and word documents, but it’s expression nonetheless and surely that counts for something.

he writes, too, poems mostly, fragments that tumble in fractures from his fingertips, scrawled messily into the corners of his notebooks. his mother likes that - that he creates, but doesn’t love that he’s not studying. budget your time wisely, she tells him, keep your head out of the clouds during school. but how does that happen, how does he manage not to do this when he’s been taught from day one how to write, how to express. how can he turn off the daydreams they put in his head?

SETTING: busan, haeundae beach, performance.

his dance crew is performing, just a small thing, a little exhibition on a thursday evening to try and draw in new recruits. but it’s the most exhilarating moment of his life. his heart is stammering in his chest and his skin is flushed with adrenaline. he can feel every moment of this, every note and every beat, each muscle as it strains and stretches, thrives on the expand contract expand contract of his lungs, ligaments.

it’s the first time he, at twelve, has ever performed in front of anyone before and the addiction is both intense and immediate. it cannot be ignored. he rides the high of it all the way home, seems to float through the streets, carried in dips and eddies on the breeze of this impossible high.

SETTING: busan, apartment.

when the time comes to prepare for his entrance into highschool, his parents sit him down. tell him to quit dancing, to focus on his studies. he can pick it back up after the test, in a year or so, but this is his future they’re talking about. he can’t keep living fantasies like this, he has to focus on something other than his little hobbies.

the problem is it doesn’t feel like a hobby. he’s got a business card in his pocket that offers him a chance to train, move to seoul and join a company, get some real work done. they’d teach him how to make music, they tell him. they’re looking for a dancer, they say. and he’s got potential. he suits the lineup they have in mind. he could make something great.

his parents are horrified to say the least. they came into the conversation asking him to leave it all behind, and here he is trying to make it into his career? it’s some kind of stupid childish nonsense, they tell him. with two academics for parents, he’s going to throw away his natural talents, his prowess in school, all to become what - a dancing puppet? everything they tell you is lies, they tell him. you won’t get to do anything you actually want to do. that’s never how this industry works. you’ll be in debt up to your eyeballs and miss all your chances to establish a real career, a real life for yourself. you’ll squander your real talents, your intelligence.

SETTING: seoul, apartment.

milo hasn’t spoken to his parents in six months.

not for lack of trying, but they’re not interested. it took him months of sulking, of begging, of insisting. of running away on a weekend to go to seoul for the audition, bringing the papers to his grandmother living in the heart of the city in a shoebox sized apartment, to beg her to intercede on his behalf. a much more heart driven woman than his parents, she had done so, and while he had gained the signatures on the paper he’d needed, he hadn’t done anything to convince them truly that this was a good idea.

his grandmother becomes his family now, sole caretaker, waking up the bleary eyed and stiff limbed boy from deep sleeps, telling him to mind his protein intake and to hurry his way to school, to not stay too late at practice, knowing full well he won’t return until the wee hours of the morning. she watches with concern and with love as he wears himself down, trying to balance school work and the demands of training.

SETTING: seoul, music show stage.

debuting is a whirlwind. it feels impossible, it seems improbable. he’s not sure how he got to this point, standing on stage with two other boys, surprised and shocked, but happy. he’s happy. he tells himself that as he shrinks from interviewers, nervous. as comments pour in about them, ranging from fondness for their concepts to mockery for their age, their youth, whatever, he finds himself growing more and more critical than he’d ever thought possible.

SETTING: japan, hotel.

it’s easy to feel inadequate next to them, even now. an incredible dancer and a gifted singer and then….milo. just milo. milo, with sleepy eyes. milo, with a compelling stage presence but not enough. not like the others. milo, who clams up on camera. milo, who would rather read than socialize, who needs liquor to keep himself opened up. so he starts drinking more. and more. it helps him socialize at first, schmooze with record executives and brand ambassadors.  see milo, he’s always had too much inside him. shadows and fire, frustrations and depression. he’s half seething half shriveled. and he drinks a little more and digs himself a little deeper.

SETTING: daegu, music festival.

he gets hurt, on stage. it’s ridiculous, a waist injury, and his ankle. he hates himself for it. for the weakness. he’s already lagging behind the others, he already can’t keep up, how can he handle another blow? how can he fall down once more. there’s not even a reason for it, not really. he didn’t fall, a light didn’t come down. he was fine one second and then there was a moment, sudden and sharp, when he realized something was wrong. it threw off his balance, and he hurt his waist in turn. ridiculous. he hates himself for it. recovery turns into an excuse to brood. to feel slowed, to feel sorry for himself, to soothe himself with chemicals and a soured attitude.

THE PRESENT DAY.

it’s hard.

to watch one member soar as a soloist. to watch the other excel in his vocals, to continue to fall just a little bit short. just a step behind. what does he have to his name, in the end of things? some photoshoots with various brands. the invite to a bunch of gucci events. so he can stand still and look hot, moody, sad. well, why not. he’s most of those things, after  all, at any given time.

he’s always been less than both of them. weaker than both of them. it’s taking a toll. these boys who are like his brothers, who he loves so dearly, he resents. and he feels ashamed of that resentment too, ashamed that he feels like he has to  compete against them. humiliated that he falls so short in comparison. it’s a spiral that sucks him down deep, deeper into murky depths, like a current at sea.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON OASIS’ MAIN DANCE, LEAD VOCAL RYU SAN...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 17 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: MSG ETC: this member is known as the nation’s golden boy, and has trouble with sasaeng fans.

IDOL IMAGE

despite having never been given a stage name to differentiate himself, san on and off stage is very divisive. there are parts of who he is, the hidden reality, and the manufactured personality that he hates. that he wants to stow away and eradicate. but even being immersed in the industry for as long as he has, letting pieces of faked naivety and overly-childlike innocence crumble away, he’s still not content. san’s image from the start had been something that had made him borderline uncomfortable. he was pretty in a soft sort of way and the company took advantage of, spun him into something androgynous and thrust him into the public’s eye before he had the mental wherewithal to learn how to compartmentalize things like hate comments. he was young, so he was supposed to be bright, sweet. they wanted megawatt smiles and a forced slip of something shy. san has never been any of those things. san has been molded, forced into something rigid, obsessive. blunt and argumentative if pushed hard enough.

but san, at a base level, isn’t marketable. he knows this well enough, it’s been repeated to him. it’s good for forcing his foot into the door of things, to make sure he can collect the scraps the company feeds them without anyone snatching it away. but not for the public’s palate. so he was supposed to be something ethereal, delicate, pretty. he was supposed to hide away black-and-blue knees. he was supposed to wind himself up cute, soft, sweet. and when he grew up, he wasn’t supposed to stray far. was meant to keep himself caged up in a lost boys, never grow up mentality. he’s built up something of a brand, after all, being in the industry so long. a golden boy. only san’s desperately trying to keep everyone from noticing it’s all flaking off. that he’s hiding something that’s dulled underneath. held up like eris’ golden apple, but as far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing but rot inside.

he’s been learning somewhat slowly to try and embrace the role he’s been given, the pieces of himself that the company chose to accentuate. but there’s still something bitter remaining there, of forced hair extensions and keeping up with extreme diets on top of long-houred dance practices to maintain a too-slim-limbed figure in the face of internet comments, boys at the high school he had still been going to at the time trying to rip him down for something that had been completely out of his hands. had been completely unwanted in the first place. he’d always been pushed as the main dancer though, and that has remained unchanged. despite the hours spent in the studio dragging his voice up to par to match the other members’ skills.

but eight years is a long time. the image of a child can’t remain the same for that of a man. but longevity does not equal freedom. not in this industry, and especially not underneath msgs’ roof. so his pre-plotted personality had to be reimagined. grown up in a superficial way, underneath the whims of pr directors and san’s own blunt, unrelenting tongue when they tried to coerce him into it. his stage persona is a twisted thing, but it’s hard to see that if you’re on the outside looking in. san, while discontent with nearly everything about himself had long ago learned to favor androgyny to flat out cute (the thought of doing aegyo still makes him cringe). it was an uphill battle to climb out of, the self perceptions he had of himself. still has, in all honesty. they’re cutting him a little more slack now, in the years of his seniority. but off stage, san’s still meant to be that same hard-working golden boy, perfect to a fault. but the length of time pretending to be someone he isn’t wears on him, and perhaps it’s why msg is willing to allow him to lean so hard on his ‘shy and humble’ image. it’s less about being shy, and more because he doesn’t want to talk. because msg doesn’t want him to, doesn’t want him to shatter this whole veneered image they’ve built up. they’ve essentially built him into a wind up doll. pretty, quiet, and will spin in endless circles until someone finally decides to stop twisting that gear.

IDOL HISTORY

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

ryu san entered msg entertainment at thirteen years old. he was casted through the company’s monthly auditions and was picked up for his already well-honed skills in dance. he was known as a hard working trainee, which is part of the reason he was placed in their upcoming act of oasis.

THE REALITY:

san could dance before he could walk, figuratively speaking, and it hadn’t been because he’d wanted to. the life of an idol, of a star, might not seem ideal to some parents. most parents. but san’s mother had always been a little different. jaded from a past dream that had never been realized and a husband who was off drinking with his boss in an attempt to angle in a promotion when he wasn’t working outright. so she had money, and she had an open canvas of a boy, a person she could scrawl her desires across. carve them in so deep that they could never be eradicated. san was built from the ground up into a performer, into an idol. it didn’t matter that he’d started out quiet, or ornery. it was all smoothed out. every wrinkle in his personality chastised, resculpted to fit the perfect mold she was shaping him into. not that things really work out like that. but at seven san had already realized he should start hiding things away from his mother if he didn’t want to be scolded, changed. realized that he should suck it up, drink down an energy drink, and march off to his next lesson without complaint when he was tired. dance, vocal, acting, modeling, whatever she could find he was enrolled into.

instead of the popular math hagwon down the street from their apartment complex, san was sent to piano. instead of running wild in the playground when they were finally unleashed into the world at dusk, he was practicing, dancing, singing, auditioning for a children’s online clothing shop pictorial. san’s life has always been abnormal. he finds all the claims from his fans that he’s naturally gifted, a born star, to be mildly laughable. sure, he probably had some amount of natural talent embedded in him when he managed to fall so easily into dance. but he would be absolutely nowhere without the efforts of his mother. for that, he’s sure. every piece of him was chosen in a way that would help propel him toward fame, down to his single syllable, mildly unusual name. at thirteen he was shuffled off to monthly auditions for a few entertainment companies. he got into msg, and she signed the contract for him with little thought about what it said, what it meant. how it compared to any other company he might still have a chance at. any other career. that was san’s burden to bear, not hers. never hers. he’s always been more of a hobby to her than a son, one she glamorize. can ignore his hardships, let them fall on deaf ears in favor of siphoning off whatever acclaim he’s managed to build up and use it for her own purposes (notably, a cafe with his face, signature, and other fangoods thrown around in an effort to entice in his fans in to pay double-price for an americano).

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

san has been known for his striking visuals since debut. for a decent portion of oasis’ career san has had long hair or extensions (though in more recent years has switched to dying his hair frequently). he’s known for his androgynous image, and hard-working, shy personality.

THE REALITY:

san in front of a camera and san off-camera are two completely different people. the image that was chosen for him after he was confirmed for oasis’ lineup has been something he’s hated since its fruition. he’s learned to swallow back that bitter pill. his mother certainly hadn’t wanted to hear it. he’d been picked, that was good enough. he should be grateful, eternally grateful to his company and contract.

he’d hated his hair. extensions woven in and being called pretty on variety, pretending like he wasn’t going to be mocked relentlessly for it whenever they bothered to send him back to his high-school for a couple of days. he’s never been particularly shy, particularly naive, particularly much of anything sugar-sweet. but that’s what they said he looked like, so that’s what he became. at least for the duration of his teen years. to be perfectly honest, it’s exhausting pretending to be someone that you aren’t. eventually that divide starts to collapse in ways that don’t really make sense. showing complacency when he should be busy kicking up a fuss, or forgetting to plaster on that doe-eyed expression before a camera manages to shutter-snap, steal an image of san glaring at another member when he’s running on three hours of sleep and a couple of caffeine pills. most of his fansites delete them, protect him (and now he owes them, because that’s how it always works).

he’s carved himself out an image and has managed to shy away from some of the bigger scandals. a golden boy, and they make sure he stays that way. a promise he’s not entirely sure he believes. but they keep his secrets. days filled with exhaustion, moments when his less-than-ideal traits leak through. stolen moments behind buildings and parked vans where he’s chain smoking in an attempt to swallow the hunger in his gut or the tremble in his fingers. a bad habit he picked up a few months after debut and still hasn’t shaken free of. that’s how those things work. you recognize them, their face, their larger-than-life camera. you smile, and you pay extra attention to them, because they know too much. because they could sink you if you let them, and san isn’t prepared to go down with that ship. not yet. so he smiles, he dances, he normalizes the way fans push past his boundaries and infiltrate his life. tie him down with obsession.

they love him. but they don’t, not really. a bunch of fucking liars.

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

san was originally given somewhat less vocal-intensive parts in oasis’ music. it’s been known that he has put in a large amount of work to improve his voice. something that eventually led him to debuting as a soloists.

THEREALITY:

at the beginning, everything felt a little more prescriptive. san could dance, and san could dance well. so san was the dancer. three boys meant everything had to be drilled down tighter than a large number. wunderkin, and meant to appeal to girls older than them, that they could act cute toward. san could dance, but his vocals weren’t necessarily up to par. not right away. only three members and it means there’s more focus on each person individually. at first he struggled. he struggled with his lines, his image, the attention. and the bad attention, too. comments that unpacked how he was lacking, or what he looked like. things that were hard to sort through with logic or an unbiased eye to a teenager addled with hormones and confused with the world.

and the higher oasis was built up, the more his flaws started to show. or the more people decided they did anyway. the comments on his lack of vocal talent online grated at him, eventually pushed him into hyper-obsessive practice until he eventually managed to claw his way up and into a decent vocalists. until he started getting more lines and managed to perform stable lines between dance breaks.

and then more, an offer of a solo opportunity extended to him. san thinks the main reason for it is his fans, a large and obsessive amount of them that might’ve made msg think it was an easy money-grab with san so willing to overwork himself and oasis growing older in the industry. but san clutched tight to that idea. tried to mold it like clay into a dream of him own. something he could pin his own aspirations to. pretend he could control it. pretend it was a different outlet, something that his mother hadn’t necessarily forced him into. after all, she wanted to turn him toward acting. but this is different. only it’s not. san just tries incredibly hard to pretend that it is. tries incredibly hard to shape it into something he’s content with. but it’s hard to enjoy the end product when he struggles to accept any part of himself.

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

despite being very focused in his group, san has been known to have anemia and a weak immune system. while it sometimes worries his fans, he always assures us that he’s fine.

THE REALITY:

san doesn’t have anemia, isn’t prone to sickness, wasn’t born premature, or whatever other excuse msg might cook up, has fed to his worried fans. san’s just overworked to a fault with an ingrained habit of running on fumes and forcing himself into additional unneeded hours of practice. so he keeps going and going until he collapses. drops like deadweight onstage in the middle of rehearsals slotted between four other schedules. they blame it on his blood, not that they let him overwork himself just to reap the monetary benefits.

they’d kept him on rigid diets despite it, especially in oasis’ earlier years, when they were meant appear youthful and boyish. until he kicked up enough of a fuss and fainted immediately after a festival performance, half stumbled his way off stage and missed a photoshoot. he goes along with the lies, because the san of oasis is a complete work of fiction anyway, what’s adding to it? why make his fans worry, why not let them continue in their delusions. keep believing in the happy wonderland the company’s built up for them? that’s his job after all, his purpose. it doesn’t really matter what he thinks, what goes on behind the scenes. and san’s discontent with himself. feels like, at this point, he needs to offer this fictional persona, this fictional boy in his place.

there’s a strange way he views his career, his fans. he loves it, the music. but there’s a lack of control, and a lack of privacy. there are fans who claim they love him and push too far into his life. attempt to hurt just to memorialize themselves in his memory. he doesn’t want to give away the pieces of himself that are his own, doesn’t want to give up that control. at the same time, there’s shame there. for being who he is. the way he is. a personality that isn’t as pretty as his face. something that was brushed off the top of some marketers table and deemed unfit before they gave him a different role. a new personality. so he’s san, oasis’ golden boy. and that’s all he’s willing to show.

he’s making enough money where it doesn’t matter. so he’s learned to close his eyes, swallow it down, ignore it all, and keep going despite whatever obstacle or injury barrs his path. despite going off the rails, of hidden mental breakdowns and panic attacks that climb up his throat for seemingly no reason. they explain away the gapped periods with sickness, and san hides away the clusters of pill bottles in the bottom of his backpack. the majority of them are prescribed to him legally.

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

san has always had a large amount of sasaeng fans. over the years, there have been a few instances that have seemed to affect him (not going on social media to interact with fans as much, not having as many vlives as the other members, not sharing as much personal information with his fans, etc.). san’s fans have always worked to be caring and understanding of this, and so we treasure whatever it is that he decides to share with us.

THE REALITY:

at the beginning things were alright. but as the years progressed oasis built themselves up higher. not everything fame brings with it is good. oasis came packaged with fans, and sometimes using that term didn’t seem to settle right. a lot were akgaes, but even past that were the sasaengs. they were unavoidable to all the boys, but a few in san’s court pushed the boundaries a little too far. he likes to shove aside how much it’s affected him, how it’s hard for him to come to terms and not have that association in the back of his mind when he sees his fans. when he tries to quantify what counts as love. after all, for some strange reason, he’s the center of these people’s world. he’s their self-proclaimed obsession. that’s the reason, isn’t it? out of love. it’s a strange thing to san, even now. what his mother shows him, what his fans show him. a strange concept. sometimes violetly unwelcomed. but then, he feels hollowed out without it. two extremes, and san often finds himself fluctuating between them. hating and then wanting in a never-stopping loop. it lasted too long, really. and they stick with him, those memories. the rented out a van similar to his driver’s and waited for him outside of an airport (and was thankfully yanked back before he climbed in by his manager), microphones hidden in hotel rooms, cameras stuffed into fan gifts, a few girls stalking him from location to location that he would only manage to shake after full on sprinting down to street, constant messages despite changing his number. it’s had an effect on him. but it’s one of those things he tries to hide away. he knows msg only wants the perfect, and fans come with fistfulls of money. who are they to chase them away?

SANSTUDIO / primary san information source/fansite since 2010:

at the moment san is focusing on solo endeavors in korea and japan, as well as continuing group promotions with oasis.

THE REALITY:

san’s trying to pursue a musical direction that fits him. s trying to branch out into creative concepts that might mean something to him. an attempt to shape his own landscape. an attempt to pull more meaning into what he does. to take more control -- a concept that has always been shaky to him. something that he wants desperately. but he still doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel like he belongs much of anywhere, if he’ll ever feel more human than abstract concept.