The relationship with real emotional weight here belongs to the supporting couple. Pond’s love for Don, his vulnerability and the exhaustion that settles over him make his pain tangible. I believed how deeply he cared, and that made watching a love that was sadly never going to work all the more painful. Their story has a depth and intensity that the central pairing, Than and Akin, never manages to match, despite everything we’re meant to believe those two have shared.
Pond is Akin’s coworker, a photographer with a refreshingly direct manner: whatever he thinks, he says. His introduction to a new client, Don, begins with an argument, but their friction soon gives way to a steamy affair and then to much stronger feelings. Don’s discomfort with letting other people know about their relationship becomes the obstacle between them. When tragedy strikes this couple, it forces Than and Akin to reconsider the future of their own relationship and where they want it to lead. It says a lot that the secondary romance is both better developed and responsible for making the leads take stock of their lives.
As for the main romance, its best asset is the pair of children around it. Than is caring for a niece, while Akin has become a father to Mawin. Both kids are adorable, and their presence supplies the entertainment and connection that keep this muddled story from falling apart. Take them away and there is barely any substance left to either leading character. I also enjoyed the friendships at the office; those interactions feel natural and bring some badly needed lightness. Between the children, those friendships and Pond and Don, there are things to enjoy. Very little about the central love story stays with me.
The reunion begins years after Than and Akin have broken up. They were college lovers, with Than the younger of the two, and flashbacks reveal that Akin kept suspecting him of seeing other people. Those suspicions were never true. In the present, Than runs a sports gym in the building where Akin works, and he sets about trying everything he can to win his former boyfriend back.
Only much later does the show reveal what is really behind Akin’s anger: he thinks Mawin is Than’s son. Somehow, he never tells Than that this is what he believes. I cannot accept that as a way to sustain a relationship drama. Eventually we discover that Mawin isn’t Than’s son at all, and the whole thing has been an enormous misunderstanding. By then, I’ve spent far too much time wondering why nobody can simply have a conversation. The misunderstandings are cleared up over time, and, predictably, Than and Akin get back together. But the reason for their original breakup is so absurdly foolish that it undermines the story built on it.
There is plenty of heat for viewers who come for the intimate scenes, and the sculpted bodies and beautiful faces certainly make that side of things easy to watch. What they cannot do is give this erratic writing or these characters any common sense. Ten episodes, each running about an hour, is a lot to ask for a reunion stretched around people refusing to communicate. That trope has become seriously irritating, and this show gives me no relief from it.
I’m reaching the point where I need a break from BL shows, especially the Thai ones. That doesn’t mean I think they’re all bad. It means there is so much to sift through, with flimsy plots dragged across long episodes and awkward writing, that a dependable list of what to avoid would be a blessing. When the main story barely leaves a memory, how much chance does the surrounding fluff have? I don’t expect Thai BL producers to learn from this and change anytime soon.
Two lovely kids and a stronger supporting romance are all that rescue this messy reunion for me. (4/10) Until things improve, if anyone has a better way to filter these shows, please let me know.