Park Yoochun was born in Seattle, the first child in a family of Korean immigrants. Both parents working hard to build their American dream, they would usually leave him under the care of the nice old lady next door who enjoyed the distraction he’d provide in her empty days. For the first few years of his life, there was nothing unordinary about his life. He’d spend most of his time outside playing with the neighborhood kids, which was very convenient for his parents. At home, he enjoyed playing videogames and listening to music. Occasionally he’d visit the old woman to whom he had grown attached, as to a grandmother.
But one winter day, when he was seven, as Yoochun was at the old lady’s house, playing with the Christmas tree she had arranged at home for him, he entranced by the lights and the decorations imagined for a second how better it’d look if the little candles were all lit up. As his fingers played with one of them, he suddenly felt a strange tingling feeling, the next moment seeing fire sliding over it, growing stronger and wild, spreading as the boy’s fascinated eyes followed its progression through the tree. Mesmerized by the flames, he felt no fear and just stood gazing at their playful dance until the old lady came into the room, attracted by the smell of something burning. After in her panic she tried to kill the fire and then called for help, the old woman told the firemen that she had caused the accident by leaving a candle burning. Even if she knew she had planned to light them up in the evening, there was no other explanation she could come up with. Clearly it couldn’t be the boy. She had secured her house, placing anything dangerous out of his reach. Including any matches or lighters. But shaken by the sight she witnessed when she had entered the room, by that little figure staying in trance so close to heat, when the men left, she warned Yoochun of the disasters fire could cause and told him to always keep away from it. Yoochun was puzzled how something so beautiful could be dangerous but it was then when he first felt that people didn’t see things the way he did.
So in the next weeks his visits would become less frequent, as he would hide behind the bushes in the back of their garden and play with his mom’s fashion magazines, fingers lingering over the pages, which would quickly shrivel and turn into dust or be adorned by intricate black patters depending on how well he could control his ability. In time his experiments extended to different materials- plastic, metal, liquids, cotton, anything he could put his hands on. But eventually his curiosity led to an accident when his little lab room under the open sky went ablaze by the oil he had found in his dad’s garage. He wasn’t harmed or scared since he already knew his fire didn’t hurt him the way it did other people, and by focusing his mind, Yoochun managed to control and let it die out but that unfortunate tall flame that lasted a minute didn’t go unnoticed by a neighbour and the word spread to his parents, who decided to finally pay more attention to his backyard activities. Discovering the traces of burnt grass and dust, they interrogated him, ordering him to show where he was keeping his box of matches. The little boy tried to explain that he didn’t need it and even showed them why, letting flames linger on the tip of his fingers, hoping that maybe they would understand, that maybe they would be amazed and proud by what he could do. Instead, his parents looked at him in fear, ordering him to never do that again and then avoiding the topic, only growing more cautious around him.
The next few years, he spent trying to prove himself to his parents, by studying hard, signing up for the basketball team at school, even trying out for the choir where unfortunately he wasn’t accepted. Occasionally, he would stay after school, hiding under the benches on the soccer stadium and letting the flames burning inside him come to life. When five years after the Christmas accident, his mother was taken to the hospital to have her new child, Yoochun was left with his dad’s colleague’s family for the next two days, since the old neighbour had in the meantime passed away. When he was returned home, he rushed from the front door to his parent’s bedroom where he could hear his little brother. He could only catch a glimpse of him before his parents took him to the living room and avoiding his confused eyes, explained that he was to be sent to his grandparents in Korea. They never told him why but deep inside, he felt they were scared of what he could do and wanted for his brother to be safe. Yoochun understood that his brother was more important to his parents now. Maybe because they hoped he was normal. But the boy didn’t feel jealousy, he didn’t see why. Without a word of objection or a cry, he spent the next few days, staying away from their bedroom, still trying to catch a sound, a last memory of his brother before leaving home.
In Korea, Yoochun struggled through school, throughout the years hiding his powers and suppress the yearning to manifest them. The only subject he enjoyed was music and sometimes he would sneak in the music room and spent hours trying to free the melodies in his head through the piano keys. Music felt like that fire burning inside him. And as he tried to bury the fire, he let the music flow. In time he learned to play the piano by himself. When he graduated with mediocre marks, with the money he saved from working in a little restaurant and the little savings he had from his parents, he bought a ticket back home, his plane landing far away from his birthplace, in New York.
For the next few years he changed jobs, from working in a fast-food restaurant, in a dry-cleaner, to his current job at a big fashion store. Now 22 years old, living in a small apartment he shares with a roommate he barely sees when he’s home, Yoochun plans to move out on his own. In his free time, Yoochun can be found at the basketball field close to his place, or on the rooftop of his building, where he sits humming, and tapping his fingers against the cold surface in a rhythm, the melodies in his mind now trapped. He is saving money for his own piano and music equipment but in the meantime he would pretend to be a student at one of the universities in New York, finding empty music rooms and stealing opportunities to play the piano. Occasionally, he would go clubbing with his colleagues with whom he befriended easily thanks to his honest and passionate nature. People love him because he always tries to brighten up their day. Still his best friend is Nemo, a tiny black rabbit which Yoochun had received as a birthday gift from his colleagues at his first job at a pizza restaurant.
All in all, Yoochun tries to lead a normal life. He doesn’t find how his power is of any use except to light his cigarette. If he had a choice he’d rather not have it at all. For now, he just tries to find what to do with his life. His passion for music makes him think about trying out for auditions or taking courses. For the last four Christmases, he would send a postcard to his little brother of a glowing Christmas tree, hoping one day to see him, wondering if the little boy would even recognize him.
Yoochun can create and manipulate fire. So far, he’s only tried to burn things in close proximity. He didn’t have a reason to aim at anything distant so he doesn’t know the boundaries of his ability, yet. But yes, he can create large flames of fire and launch them at people. xD Yoochun doesn’t get hurt by the fire he creates himself. To any other fire, he has a little more heat resistance than other people and he can protect himself by manipulating it.
Preferred RP Style: both action and paragraph is fine with me. Over IJ. I don't have AIM. ^^ Anything Else: I had to throw a coin to decide on the power. I’m dead serious. =.=