#id.no yoonho

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LOADING INFORMATION ON 1NFERNO’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE JANG WOOSUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 21 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: Midas ETC: This member is known for often occupying a center role in videos and promotions

IDOL IMAGE

On stage, Woosung is a captivating performer. Explosive energy and charisma, a coordinated dancer and stable vocalist, with a cute yet handsome visual to boot. He’s magnet on stage, someone who fans’ eyes are drawn to despite not being the best dancer or vocal in the group. He can handle the experimental concepts that Midas throws at 1nferno and is able to take most of the intense concepts in stride, finding it not terribly difficult to get into a character and convey the appropriate image onstage.

Offstage, however, Woosung is incredibly different. Having a naturally meek, introverted, and insecure personality, he tends on the quieter side during interviews, lives, and other social situations, finding it hard to talk and share his opinions. Midas pushes him as a chic, artistic personality, capitalizing on his contemporary dance training as a testament to his artistry and emotionality. It’s an easy role for Woosung to play, as someone who is much more comfortable staying quiet regardless of his image. During public appearances, he tends to let the stronger personalities in the group take over, chiming in rarely and even then, it’s usually only when he’s directly referred to or asked a question. Some fans complain about this behaviour, calling him cold and distant from the other members of the group, but his dedicated fans claim it’s because of his emotive side, reasoning that he’s one to read the situation and observe in order to match the others involved, rather than take charge of things.

When Woosung does speak, he’s surprisingly insightful despite his shyness, a delight to both fans and the company. He’s the type to consider unusual perspectives, without being strange enough to be labelled as a 4D personality. He’s thoughtful and considerate, easily able to gauge the needs of others around him. He does have his spacey moments, though, tending to get lost in thought. Thankfully, it’s more endearing than frustrating, and is marketed as simply another aspect of his emotionally-tuned personality.

IDOL HISTORY

1998.

Jang Woosung has always been a boy caught between two worlds, even from birth. He is born on January 26, 1998 to a Korean father and a Korean-American mother, and given two names— Woosung, a Korean name given by his father, and William, an English name given by his mother. Neither quite fit, each one missing a component of the other, and as Woosung grows up, he comes to resent them both. His English name as a target of ridicule, the label of gyopo, his mother’s roots in America. His Korean name as a cover up, trying to conceal the other half of him; but also, as a constant reminder of a father who left him, who gives him that name before leaving when Woosung is less than six months old. His mother has already established herself in Korea, has already planned a life here for her son, so despite being alone, she stays, intent on raising her son like she had planned, just without Woosung’s father. And so she does, the two of them in a tiny apartment in Ilsan, an infant Woosung crying for a father he wouldn’t even remember.

2001.

There’s no reason for Woosung to attend nursery school. His mother’s job as a freelance translator means she can work from home, balancing her responsibilities for work and responsibilities as a mom. They don’t go out much, simply stay safe in their own little world. Woosung’s mom is all he needs, and his mother is happy to provide. That is, until Woosung turns three, and his mother takes him to America to meet his grandparents. Look at him, Mia, they tell Woosung’s mother. He never leaves your side. He doesn’t talk to his cousins. He hardly plays at all. He keeps to himself too much. He doesn’t know how to socialize. What kind of adult will William be if he doesn’t learn how to act as a child?

And they’re right. Woosung is withdrawn, looks at others with fear in his eyes, holds onto his mother’s skirt wherever they go. So, as soon as she gets back to Korea, she enrols him in the first activity she can find that will take three year olds— a ballet class at a studio just a fifteen minute bus ride away. Woosung cries during the first class. He cries during the second. He clings to his mother and begs her not to go. She hushes him, gives him a kiss on the cheek, tells him that if he goes to the class, tries his best, acts like a good boy, they’ll get ice cream later. Isn’t that nice, Will? Wouldn’t you like that?

This is where everything begins.

2003.

Woosung excels in his ballet class. He takes it very seriously, practices at home, hums the complex classical melodies even when class has long ended. He doesn’t become the most talkative kid in the class, not by a long shot, still insecure and devastatingly shy, but he comes out of his shell a bit, shares short sentences with a few of the other kids in his class before and after their lessons. I want to be a dancer, he tells his mom, and he’s good enough, loves it so much that she kisses his head and says of course, Will, whatever you love to do is something worth doing.

But then, Woosung starts school, and the bullying begins. In his dance classes, the other children were too young to understand what it meant when Woosung spoke another language with his mother, and they spent too little time with him to be bothered by it. The children at school, however, understand the difference. They realize that Woosung is different because he speaks a language that isn’t Korean with his mother, because the food he eats for lunch is a bit different from theirs, because he has two different names on his report. So they tease him, pick on him, call him a foreigner, a gyopo, a fake Korean. Woosung’s personality doesn’t help him either, his shyness and lack of interest in anything other than dance making him an easy target. It never progresses beyond name-calling, but it hurts just the same, presses down on Woosung until he withdraws entirely, speaks to hardly anyone. It’s then that he vows to never use his English name again.

2007.

It’s not until Woosung is nearly ten years old that he meets his father again. They never talks about him much, Woosung and his mother, and he would never visit— he lives far from us, Will, it’s hard to get here from Busan. Woosung was never able to forget him, though, reminded of his father’s existence by the cards and small pockets of money that double as birthday gifts and seollal presents. But one November day, when Woosung gets home from school, his mother tells him (in a voice so quiet, nearly sad, your father wants to visit you, William) and Woosung stops.

His father is tall, intimidating, dressed in a suit when he drives up to meet Woosung. (Even that detail is strange to Woosung— his mother has never had a car.) He takes Woosung for dinner, to a restaurant with food that Woosung doesn’t like but chokes down anyways because he’s scared of seeming impolite. He finds out he has sisters— two of them, aged five and two— that he’s never met or heard of before. Woosung, talking for the first time since his father picked him up, asks how they can be his sisters if they don’t have the same mom. His father doesn’t answer, takes him home twenty minutes later.

Back inside his house, the small apartment he shares with his mother, he feels like he’s back in the safe zone. But there is no safe zone anymore, the influence of another world with his father weighing on Woosung even when he’s alone with his mother. And so he withdraws into himself even further, stumbling along the line between two contrasting worlds that he must exist in at the same time.

2011.

Woosung dances every day, now. He’s moved on from ballet, branching out into contemporary, modern, other styles of dance that make use of his lithe frame and flexibility. He finishes school each day and goes straight to practice, logging long hours at the studio, coming home well past sundown and still slaving over his homework. He doesn’t do great in school, but his mother keeps on him, tells him it’s good to have a backup, Will, what if you get injured and you have to stop dancing? It’s a thought that scares him immensely, but he trusts his mother, so he tries his best, forces himself to keep going, stays up well into the night just to keep his head above the water.

But the lessons are getting expensive now, the older Woosung gets and the harder he pushes himself. He starts competing— starts winning, bits of money here and there, small scholarships to workshops— but the costs rack up. His mother is alone, just her and Woosung, and while his dad visits sometimes, he never provides. So it gets harder to put food on the table, harder to pay the bills, and the night that he notices his mother not eating simply because there isn’t enough food, Woosung breaks.

For the first time in his life, Woosung reaches out to his father. It’s not like Woosung has never contacted him before— since Woosung met him four years ago, he makes sure to message him on important days to wish him well, like his father’s birthday, or Parent’s Day. He’s a good son, polite, and he never asks for anything, never asked until that day, when he meets up with his father and asks him for money.

His father doesn’t agree. His father denies him vehemently, once he finds out what the money is for. He’s fuming, yells at Woosung, I already have two other kids to provide for, and you have the audacity to ask me for money for a hobby? For ballet? I won’t support something gay like that.

It’s the first time Woosung hears the word gay like that— used to describe something he loves so dearly, curled up into the seat of his father’s car, his head down and tears in his eyes. He’s heard it snickered behind his back in school, as he got older and the bullying had turned from shouts and jeers to things more subtle. I heard he dances ballet. And he’s never had a crush on anyone, he’s never even talked to any of the girls in our grade. Do you think he’s gay? It still hurt, a lot, his heart aching at each comment, but it was easy enough to tune out, used to it after eight years of snide comments and insults— but this is the first time he hears it so directly. He doesn’t realize why it would be a bad thing, his mother always telling him gently it’s fine to like what you like, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone. But from his father, it sounds bad. It sounds wrong. Woosung doesn’t even know what he likes yet, doesn’t know if he’s gay or not, but it plants the seed then— he can’t be gay, not if he wants to be loved.

Woosung goes home and cries, locks himself in his room, presses his face into his pillow and tries not to make himself as small as possible in hopes that he might disappear. He deliberates it for days, stays up all night thinking. The thought of quitting is unbearable, but there’s no way he can let his mom keep doing this to pay for his dance. After a few days, an idea comes to him, risky yet seductive.

If I get accepted into a good company for my dance, will you help mom pay for it? He texts his dad, too scared to ask him to his face after last time.

His dad agrees.

2012.

Woosung gets scouted less than three months later.

He’d cut out his ballet classes, cut out modern and contemporary, switched to something that people would be interested in him for. Something that people wouldn’t call him gay for. He joins a hip hop academy, fills his time outside of school with that. He learns the basics voraciously, dedicating every second of his time to be able to improve as fast as possible. He doesn’t have the power and swagger that the other dancers have, but he’s toned, coordinated, and expresses feelings well onstage, uses all of it to his advantage to put on a good performance. He tries his best to fit in, to not draw any criticisms, feigns confidence like it’s his job. Two months after he joins his academy, they put on a public performance, and someone in a suit approaches him as he leaves the venue. I work for an entertainment company, they tell him, but Woosung doesn’t hear anything, only sees the Midas on the business card they hand him. We’re looking for new trainees right now for an idol group. You should audition.

Woosung does. He goes to the first audition he can make it to, forks out the little bit of money he has saved to travel to Seoul for it. A week later, his name is on the contract.

2015.

Trainee life is exhausting. As much as Woosung wanted to leave school, dedicate every minute of his life to dance and performance, his mother and the company wouldn’t let it happen. He enrols in SOPA with the companies help, in the Department of Practical Dance, goes to school and study only to train into the wee hours of the morning. He moves into the dorms, away from his mom— as much as it breaks his heart, going between Ilsan and Seoul every day on top of his already intense schedule just wasn’t feasible. Woosung never takes it easy on himself, always pushing himself as much as he can, working as hard as he can. He’s self-critical, incredibly so, uses every second he can in the studios and practices until his body is screaming at him. It seems to pay off, getting him noticed by the company. He doesn’t rank too high in his evaluations, maybe a bit above average, but he gets compliments from his coaches, trainers, teachers. He doesn’t dare take any of it for granted, though; he’s seen it happen, talented trainees letting the praise go to their head, getting cocky, getting comfortable, and in the end, getting dropped from the company. He makes sure he’s always consistent, always hungry, searching to be better. Woosung doesn’t pay much attention to the other trainees, never really makes friends— it’s not like that’s something he’s ever been in the habit of anyways, after how his school life turned out. The cutthroat nature of the trainee industry makes it harder on him too, because the comments turn from general meanness to picking on the parts of himself he has confidence in. They pick on his dancing, about how he lacks power, how he’s too soft in his movements, how he stands out too much that he’ll never fit into a group. The comments break him down even more, tear his confidence to pieces. He doesn’t let it destroy him though, and he doesn’t back out— he’s come too far to quit now, and besides, what would his mother and father think? So Woosung just does what he’s always done— keeps his head down, his mouth shut, and works until he can’t anymore.

Then at the end of 2015, right before Woosung is about to go home for the holidays, he’s called for a meeting with five other boys and told they’ll debut. Management explains the concept to them— experimental, powerful, conceptual. It doesn’t seem like it’s anything Woosung will fit into at all, especially when he’s given the label of lead dancer and lead vocal. He doesn’t have the strength behind his voice, the power in his movements to carry such a title. But the company assures him, all wolvish smiles, hands on his shoulders, you don’t need to worry, Woosung, you’re handsome and tall so you’ll do well. It clicks then, why he’s gotten as far as he has, why the company always seemed to like him, give him some extra spotlight. It wasn’t because of his talent, because of his hard work— even though he’s a good dancer and a decent singer, what the company wanted him for was his looks. Everything feels fake now, the compliments, the encouragements, all the work he put in discounted. It feels like a weight on his shoulders, another thing crushing down on him. He resents himself for it, resents not being able to get by on his talent alone, resents the company having to lean into his looks to justify putting him into the group. And yet, months

later, despite everything, he debuts.

2019.

Woosung has never had a crush. Never had a true friend, someone his age that he could talk to. Never had a goal other than dance. Never had an urge to open his mouth and speak his mind. But now, things are changing. Woosung has a couple people that he’s comfortable with being around, people who he trusts not to tear him down at the first chance they get. They’re few and far between, his friends, but at least they exist. People still intimidate him, strong, aggressive personalities easily overpowering him, and he’s still devastatingly shy, but the company is pushing him, putting him front and centre, so he’s forced to work through the anxiety, stomp it down so he can do well. He has a crush now, maybe. He doesn’t know what it feels like to have a crush, but he thinks this might be it— the heart fluttering, cheek reddening feeling whenever that certain someone is around. He doesn’t think anything will come of it— who would want to date someone like him, twenty-one years old with absolutely no experience— but it’s there. (He’s not gay though. Or, he doesn’t think he’s gay. He can’t be gay, not after what his dad said to him.) He has fans, people who like him, hears good things about himself. They like his English, find him relatable, coo over him, find out his English name, call him Will without it twisting his stomach in the same way. There’s not as much direct bullying anymore, but Woosung is so used to it now, feeling like he’s being criticized for everything he does, that he finds himself being hard on himself. Late nights spent crying in the practice rooms, his body aching so much that it’s hard to get off the ground. He wants to snap out of it, but it’s hard— especially when he sees comments online, fans pitting the members against each other, pointing out how he lacks compared to the main vocal and main dancer. But he’s trying— really, he is— and maybe, one day, he’ll feel good enough.

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LOADING INFORMATION ON 1NFERNO’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE JANG WOOSUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 21 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: N/A

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): Meongddaenam (멍때남) - short for 멍 때리는 남자 (zone out man), a slang coined by his fans to mean a guy who’s so good looking you zone out and stare at him; also used to tease Woosung for his habit of zoning out. Golden Boy - as he gets a lot of screentime, fans claim that he’s being favoured by the company. His fans call him it to mean that he’s skilled and talented at everything, while his antis use it to mock him, attributing his success to MSG giving him more screen time. INSPIRATION: Woosung has always loved dance. There is nothing he would rather do other than dance— it’s been his dream for as long as he could remember. Originally, Woosung wanted to be a contemporary dancer, the emotional and technical movements catching his interest. However, as a teenager, he decided to branch out and discovered a love for hip hop. He got scouted by chance, and decided to try branching out some more. When he discovered his love for singing, his goal switched from contemporary dance to being an idol, pouring all of his efforts into training until he was able to debut. SPECIAL TALENTS:

Speaks fluent English

Studied ballet, modern and contemporary dance until he became a trainee

Knows how to do makeup from his time as a competitive dancer

NOTABLE FACTS:

His mother was born and raised in the US and works as a Korean-English translator, so he speaks English fluently with her side of the family despite living in Korea his whole life

Has two younger half sisters from his dad

Studied at SOPA, but did not continue on to university

Joined a hip hop dance academy and was scouted out of pure luck only two months after joining

Has an interest in choreographing, but is only comfortable with contemporary routines at this point

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Woosung really wants to improve his skills, focusing on honing and refining them. As the lead dancer in a performance heavy group, he feels a lot of pressure to look good onstage. While he is a skilled dancer, the majority of his training is in a completely different area, and he still feels that his movement quality doesn’t quite fit 1nferno’s concept, that he lacks the power and strength in his movements necessary for their choreography. He also wants to take his vocals to a higher level, as he feels like the difference between himself and their main vocal is a really significant one. He knows he has the charisma and presence to warrant a large amount of screen time, but he wants his skills to match.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

Woosung loves performing, but the reason why he’s in the idol industry is for the money. His mother did absolutely everything for him growing up, broke the bank trying to provide the best of the best for her son. He wants to be able to pay her back, buy her a nice house and let her live comfortably. Once he hits that point, he plans on stepping back from the idol industry quietly, simply by not renewing his contract at the next renewal opportunity. After that, he plans to devote himself to dance entirely, perhaps as a choreographer with MSG or a teacher at his own studio.

IDOL IMAGE

On stage, Woosung is a captivating performer. Explosive energy and charisma, a coordinated dancer and stable vocalist, with a cute yet handsome visual to boot. He’s magnet on stage, someone who fans’ eyes are drawn to despite not being the best dancer or vocal in the group. He can handle the experimental concepts that MSG throws at 1nferno and is able to take most of the intense concepts in stride, finding it not terribly difficult to get into a character and convey the appropriate image onstage.

Offstage, however, Woosung is incredibly different. Having a naturally meek, introverted, and insecure personality, he tends on the quieter side during interviews, lives, and other social situations, finding it hard to talk and share his opinions. MSG pushes him as a chic, artistic personality, capitalizing on his contemporary dance training as a testament to his artistry and emotionality. It’s an easy role for Woosung to play, as someone who is much more comfortable staying quiet regardless of his image. During public appearances, he tends to let the stronger personalities in the group take over, chiming in rarely and even then, it’s usually only when he’s directly referred to or asked a question. Some fans complain about this behaviour, calling him cold and distant from the other members of the group, but his dedicated fans claim it’s because of his emotive side, reasoning that he’s one to read the situation and observe in order to match the others involved, rather than take charge of things.

When Woosung does speak, he’s surprisingly insightful despite his shyness, a delight to both fans and the company. He’s the type to consider unusual perspectives, without being strange enough to be labelled as a 4D personality. He’s thoughtful and considerate, easily able to gauge the needs of others around him. He does have his spacey moments, though, tending to get lost in thought. Thankfully, it’s more endearing than frustrating, and is marketed as simply another aspect of his emotionally-tuned personality.

IDOL HISTORY

1998.

Jang Woosung has always been a boy caught between two worlds, even from birth. He is born on January 26, 1998 to a Korean father and a Korean-American mother, and given two names— Woosung, a Korean name given by his father, and William, an English name given by his mother. Neither quite fit, each one missing a component of the other, and as Woosung grows up, he comes to resent them both. His English name as a target of ridicule, the label of gyopo, his mother’s roots in America. His Korean name as a cover up, trying to conceal the other half of him; but also, as a constant reminder of a father who left him, who gives him that name before leaving when Woosung is less than six months old. His mother has already established herself in Korea, has already planned a life here for her son, so despite being alone, she stays, intent on raising her son like she had planned, just without Woosung’s father. And so she does, the two of them in a tiny apartment in Ilsan, an infant Woosung crying for a father he wouldn’t even remember.

2001.

There’s no reason for Woosung to attend nursery school. His mother’s job as a freelance translator means she can work from home, balancing her responsibilities for work and responsibilities as a mom. They don’t go out much, simply stay safe in their own little world. Woosung’s mom is all he needs, and his mother is happy to provide. That is, until Woosung turns three, and his mother takes him to America to meet his grandparents. Look at him, Mia, they tell Woosung’s mother. He never leaves your side. He doesn’t talk to his cousins. He hardly plays at all. He keeps to himself too much. He doesn’t know how to socialize. What kind of adult will William be if he doesn’t learn how to act as a child?

And they’re right. Woosung is withdrawn, looks at others with fear in his eyes, holds onto his mother’s skirt wherever they go. So, as soon as she gets back to Korea, she enrols him in the first activity she can find that will take three year olds— a ballet class at a studio just a fifteen minute bus ride away. Woosung cries during the first class. He cries during the second. He clings to his mother and begs her not to go. She hushes him, gives him a kiss on the cheek, tells him that if he goes to the class, tries his best, acts like a good boy, they’ll get ice cream later. Isn’t that nice, Will? Wouldn’t you like that?

This is where everything begins.

2003.

Woosung excels in his ballet class. He takes it very seriously, practices at home, hums the complex classical melodies even when class has long ended. He doesn’t become the most talkative kid in the class, not by a long shot, still insecure and devastatingly shy, but he comes out of his shell a bit, shares short sentences with a few of the other kids in his class before and after their lessons. I want to be a dancer, he tells his mom, and he’s good enough, loves it so much that she kisses his head and says of course, Will, whatever you love to do is something worth doing.

But then, Woosung starts school, and the bullying begins. In his dance classes, the other children were too young to understand what it meant when Woosung spoke another language with his mother, and they spent too little time with him to be bothered by it. The children at school, however, understand the difference. They realize that Woosung is different because he speaks a language that isn’t Korean with his mother, because the food he eats for lunch is a bit different from theirs, because he has two different names on his report. So they tease him, pick on him, call him a foreigner, a gyopo, a fake Korean. Woosung’s personality doesn’t help him either, his shyness and lack of interest in anything other than dance making him an easy target. It never progresses beyond name-calling, but it hurts just the same, presses down on Woosung until he withdraws entirely, speaks to hardly anyone. It’s then that he vows to never use his English name again.

2007.

It’s not until Woosung is nearly ten years old that he meets his father again. They never talks about him much, Woosung and his mother, and he would never visit— he lives far from us, Will, it’s hard to get here from Busan. Woosung was never able to forget him, though, reminded of his father’s existence by the cards and small pockets of money that double as birthday gifts and seollal presents. But one November day, when Woosung gets home from school, his mother tells him (in a voice so quiet, nearly sad, your father wants to visit you, William) and Woosung stops.

His father is tall, intimidating, dressed in a suit when he drives up to meet Woosung. (Even that detail is strange to Woosung— his mother has never had a car.) He takes Woosung for dinner, to a restaurant with food that Woosung doesn’t like but chokes down anyways because he’s scared of seeming impolite. He finds out he has sisters— two of them, aged five and two— that he’s never met or heard of before. Woosung, talking for the first time since his father picked him up, asks how they can be his sisters if they don’t have the same mom. His father doesn’t answer, takes him home twenty minutes later.

Back inside his house, the small apartment he shares with his mother, he feels like he’s back in the safe zone. But there is no safe zone anymore, the influence of another world with his father weighing on Woosung even when he’s alone with his mother. And so he withdraws into himself even further, stumbling along the line between two contrasting worlds that he must exist in at the same time.

2011.

Woosung dances every day, now. He’s moved on from ballet, branching out into contemporary, modern, other styles of dance that make use of his lithe frame and flexibility. He finishes school each day and goes straight to practice, logging long hours at the studio, coming home well past sundown and still slaving over his homework. He doesn’t do great in school, but his mother keeps on him, tells him it’s good to have a backup, Will, what if you get injured and you have to stop dancing? It’s a thought that scares him immensely, but he trusts his mother, so he tries his best, forces himself to keep going, stays up well into the night just to keep his head above the water.

But the lessons are getting expensive now, the older Woosung gets and the harder he pushes himself. He starts competing— starts winning, bits of money here and there, small scholarships to workshops— but the costs rack up. His mother is alone, just her and Woosung, and while his dad visits sometimes, he never provides. So it gets harder to put food on the table, harder to pay the bills, and the night that he notices his mother not eating simply because there isn’t enough food, Woosung breaks.

For the first time in his life, Woosung reaches out to his father. It’s not like Woosung has never contacted him before— since Woosung met him four years ago, he makes sure to message him on important days to wish him well, like his father’s birthday, or Parent’s Day. He’s a good son, polite, and he never asks for anything, never asked until that day, when he meets up with his father and asks him for money.

His father doesn’t agree. His father denies him vehemently, once he finds out what the money is for. He’s fuming, yells at Woosung, I already have two other kids to provide for, and you have the audacity to ask me for money for a hobby? For ballet? I won’t support something gay like that.

It’s the first time Woosung hears the word gay like that— used to describe something he loves so dearly, curled up into the seat of his father’s car, his head down and tears in his eyes. He’s heard it snickered behind his back in school, as he got older and the bullying had turned from shouts and jeers to things more subtle. I heard he dances ballet. And he’s never had a crush on anyone, he’s never even talked to any of the girls in our grade. Do you think he’s gay? It still hurt, a lot, his heart aching at each comment, but it was easy enough to tune out, used to it after eight years of snide comments and insults— but this is the first time he hears it so directly. He doesn’t realize why it would be a bad thing, his mother always telling him gently it’s fine to like what you like, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone. But from his father, it sounds bad. It sounds wrong. Woosung doesn’t even know what he likes yet, doesn’t know if he’s gay or not, but it plants the seed then— he can’t be gay, not if he wants to be loved.

Woosung goes home and cries, locks himself in his room, presses his face into his pillow and tries not to make himself as small as possible in hopes that he might disappear. He deliberates it for days, stays up all night thinking. The thought of quitting is unbearable, but there’s no way he can let his mom keep doing this to pay for his dance. After a few days, an idea comes to him, risky yet seductive.

If I get accepted into a good company for my dance, will you help mom pay for it? He texts his dad, too scared to ask him to his face after last time.

His dad agrees.

2012.

Woosung gets scouted less than three months later.

He’d cut out his ballet classes, cut out modern and contemporary, switched to something that people would be interested in him for. Something that people wouldn’t call him gay for. He joins a hip hop academy, fills his time outside of school with that. He learns the basics voraciously, dedicating every second of his time to be able to improve as fast as possible. He doesn’t have the power and swagger that the other dancers have, but he’s toned, coordinated, and expresses feelings well onstage, uses all of it to his advantage to put on a good performance. He tries his best to fit in, to not draw any criticisms, feigns confidence like it’s his job. Two months after he joins his academy, they put on a public performance, and someone in a suit approaches him as he leaves the venue. I work for an entertainment company, they tell him, but Woosung doesn’t hear anything, only sees the MSG on the business card they hand him. We’re looking for new trainees right now for an idol group. You should audition.

Woosung does. He goes to the first audition he can make it to, forks out the little bit of money he has saved to travel to Seoul for it. A week later, his name is on the contract.

2015.

Trainee life is exhausting. As much as Woosung wanted to leave school, dedicate every minute of his life to dance and performance, his mother and the company wouldn’t let it happen. He enrols in SOPA with the companies help, in the Department of Practical Dance, goes to school and study only to train into the wee hours of the morning. He moves into the dorms, away from his mom— as much as it breaks his heart, going between Ilsan and Seoul every day on top of his already intense schedule just wasn’t feasible. Woosung never takes it easy on himself, always pushing himself as much as he can, working as hard as he can. He’s self-critical, incredibly so, uses every second he can in the studios and practices until his body is screaming at him. It seems to pay off, getting him noticed by the company. He doesn’t rank too high in his evaluations, maybe a bit above average, but he gets compliments from his coaches, trainers, teachers. He doesn’t dare take any of it for granted, though; he’s seen it happen, talented trainees letting the praise go to their head, getting cocky, getting comfortable, and in the end, getting dropped from the company. He makes sure he’s always consistent, always hungry, searching to be better. Woosung doesn’t pay much attention to the other trainees, never really makes friends— it’s not like that’s something he’s ever been in the habit of anyways, after how his school life turned out. The cutthroat nature of the trainee industry makes it harder on him too, because the comments turn from general meanness to picking on the parts of himself he has confidence in. They pick on his dancing, about how he lacks power, how he’s too soft in his movements, how he stands out too much that he’ll never fit into a group. The comments break him down even more, tear his confidence to pieces. He doesn’t let it destroy him though, and he doesn’t back out— he’s come too far to quit now, and besides, what would his mother and father think? So woosung just does what he’s always done— keeps his head down, his mouth shut, and works until he can’t anymore.

Then at the end of 2015, right before Woosung is about to go home for the holidays, he’s called for a meeting with five other boys and told they’ll debut. Management explains the concept to them— experimental, powerful, conceptual. It doesn’t seem like it’s anything Woosung will fit into at all, especially when he’s given the label of lead dancer and lead vocal. He doesn’t have the strength behind his voice, the power in his movements to carry such a title. But the company assures him, all smiles, hands on his shoulders, you don’t need to worry, Woosung, you’re handsome onstage. It clicks then, why he’s gotten as far as he has, why the company always seemed to be a bit softer on him. It wasn’t because of his talent, because of his hard work— even though he’s a good dancer and a decent singer, what the company wanted him for was his looks. Everything feels fake now, the compliments, the encouragements, all the work he put in discounted. It feels like a weight on his shoulders, another thing crushing down on him. He resents himself for it, resents not being able to get by on his talent alone, resents the company having to lean into his looks to justify putting him into the group. And yet, months later, despite everything, he debuts.

2019.

Woosung has never had a crush. Never had a true friend, someone his age that he could talk to. Never had a goal other than dance. Never had an urge to open his mouth and speak his mind. But now, things are changing. Woosung has a couple people that he’s comfortable with being around, people who he trusts not to tear him down at the first chance they get. They’re few and far between, his friends, but at least they exist. People still intimidate him, strong, aggressive personalities easily overpowering him, and he’s still devastatingly shy, but he wants to work on it, wants to be able to open up more, be able to show himself in the hopes that people will like him. He has a crush now, maybe. He doesn’t know what it feels like to have a crush, but he thinks this might be it— the heart fluttering, cheek reddening feeling whenever that certain someone is around. He doesn’t think anything will come of it— who would want to date someone like him, twenty-one years old with absolutely no experience— but it’s there. (He’s not gay though. Or, he doesn’t think he’s gay. He can’t be gay, not after what his dad said to him.) He has fans, people who like him, hears good things about himself. They like his English, find him relatable, coo over him, find out his English name, call him Will without it twisting his stomach in the same way. There’s not as much direct bullying anymore, but Woosung is so used to it now, feeling like he’s being criticized for everything he does, that he finds himself being hard on himself. Late nights spent crying in the practice rooms, his body aching so much that it’s hard to get off the ground. He wants to snap out of it, but it’s hard— especially when he sees comments online, fans pitting the members against each other, pointing out how he lacks compared to the main vocal and main dancer. But he’s trying— really, he is— and maybe, one day, he’ll feel good enough.