This review may contain spoilers
A LOVE-STORY, ROM-COM DONE RIGHT!
Yes, the story does show a rivalry between parents passed down to their children. However, this just seems so basic, right? But oh, you are in for a ride.In this series, there's no unnecessary drama. No stupid fights. No mis-understandings. Hella great communication between the main leads. No sacrificing their relationship for the sake of others. No breakups for the sake of others.
Their relationship shown is just based on Pure Love. Pat and Pran's story is really portrayed in the most realistic way possible. And not to feed the fetishes of the "audiences". Their intimate moments and kisses seemed so natural and for their own moment.
One of the many things that I liked in this series is there is literally no homophobia in the whole show. Also, no "I don't like men, but I like you" cliché. No "wife-husband" thing. No non-consensual kisses or anything. No jealous ex-gf trope or no making the girls in the series evil. Nothing of this sort.
Once the leads get together, they made sure that they stay together, fight together, overcome every hurdle TOGETHER. A healthy relationship is finally shown.
On to the main leads. Ohm and Nanon's chemistry is so damn good. So natural. Like literally no awkward moments. There was not one single time that I felt cringe or anything. And oh my god. Their acting skills! Hella fricking good. It's the only way to describe it. Even in the moments where there were no dialogues, I FELT THEIR EMOTIONS. And to think that this is Nanon's 1st ever BL. They both really gave us outstanding performances.
Also, the director. P'Aof. Hat's off. This man just keeps getting better and better. In 2021 alone he gave 2 back to back amazing series. First being ATOTS and now BBS. At this point GMMTV should just let P'Aof direct their BL shows.
Not to exaggerate but, Bad Buddy Series should not just be the standard of BL's but also the standard of a Healthy Relationship. This series really hits home because, it is just a simple love story between 2 people, but yet, so damn special.
Cast 100% ; Storyline 100% ; Direction 100% ; Production 100% ; Acting 100% ; OST 100% ; Rewatch 100% (I already rewatched it once. More to come, lol)
Watch it. You won't regret it.
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This review may contain spoilers
Why is everyone disappointed?!
Prior to watching the series, I ofc came here for the reviews. Tbh, all I saw was disappointment. But, I still went ahead and watched it because I saw some clips and liked them.I really don't understanding why is everyone hating on this. I mean, for me, I am quite happy with the series. Firstly, we got to know about Fiat's past and as to why he is the way he is. We also got to know about Fiat and Leo's past. Secondly, I loved Leo's family. I am all here for supportive parent's.
Yes, there were some toxic stuff too, but, after having seen countless of BL's, this series is much better tbh. Could've been worse, but in my opinion, it is watchable. If you can survive cringe BL's, this is nothing in front of them. I said what I said.
Now, the acting. I really liked the acting for most of the cast. The main leads, the second couple, the friends, all the acting was really good. The main couple, for me, really depicted the emotions very well and didn't seemed too forced tbh.
Also, I loved Leon's acting. I am so in love with his smile and the way his eyes sparkle! (You can solely just watch this for Leon, he is too adorable).
And yes, the second couple's ending. It did ended realistically. Yes, they were cute together. But, let's be honest, it ended that way so they could have a series of their own. It will happen. It always does. I don't get why people crying over their ending. Their story is really cute. They together are cute. But, the ending shown is good too. I mean, you don't always prioritize your s/o over your dreams. So, I really don't have any issues with the way the second couple ended.
**This all is subjective. As I mentioned in my very 1st sentence, because of the reviews, I was not going to watch this. But, I really do think that some people are exaggerating. Because, with the amount of Thai BL's that I have seen, this is watchable. **
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Y'ALL BEEN SLEEPING ON THIS
I've watched Max and Tul in Together with Me and already am a fan of this couple. Their chemistry is no joke. So, saying that I was pretty excited for this drama, would be understatement.Manner of Death is such a unique take on a BL drama. This is not your typical BL, but, it's so much more and sooo good.
Right from the start, it keeps you engaged, which is very rare. The Storyline, the production, the acting, just everything, is excellent, in my opinion.
I might sound over the top with excitement in this review, but, it's only because this is such a unique story. I keep mentioning that this is not your regular BL story and yes, it's because, I am in my mid 20's (out of the uni, working) and while I do enjoy the college romance dramas, with stereotypical storylines; I was excited when I heard of this BL drama.
Something that is non-college related and in between mature (grown-up) people. This caught my eye. This drama really gave all the mature vibes with a realistic and super addicting storyline.
Manner of Death is a masterpiece in my opinion and tbh, it has been on my top 5 ever since I've watched it.
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2 people finding their way back to life through melodies they thought they had lost forever.
How do you review First Note of Love when your main memories are recording studios, unfinished songs, and Neil and Sea looking at each other like they were hearing music nobody else could?This series really looked at the music romance genre and said, "What if we added grief, creative burnout, healing, and enough emotional damage to keep playlists employed for years?"
Neil used to live for music.
Then life happened.
Loss happened.
Silence happened.
And suddenly the thing that once made him feel alive became the very thing he couldn't bear to face.
Then came Sea.
A fan.
A dreamer.
A walking reminder of everything Neil thought he had lost.
And somehow, also the person who helped him find it again.
Charles Tu brought so much quiet sadness and vulnerability to Neil that watching him slowly reconnect with music — and with himself — felt incredibly moving.
And Michael Chang as Sea?
The king of optimism.
The emperor of emotional support.
The CEO of believing in someone long before they can believe in themselves.
Watching Sea patiently stand beside Neil while he learned how to create, grieve, and love again gave us one of the gentlest romances in recent Taiwanese BL.
Because this wasn't about saving someone.
It was about accompanying them.
There's a difference.
And First Note of Love understood it perfectly.
The supporting characters and music industry setting added so much texture to the world.
The rehearsals.
The recording sessions.
The pressure of expectations.
The fear of never being able to create something meaningful again.
Every part of it felt honest.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director Lien Chien Hung understood exactly what this story needed: space.
The emotional moments weren't rushed.
The silences were allowed to exist.
The music was allowed to speak when words couldn't.
The production team understood that songs in this story weren't simply background music.
They were memories.
Conversations.
Confessions.
Goodbyes.
The cinematography deserves special praise.
The stage lights.
The empty studios.
The city nights.
The moments where characters sat quietly with their thoughts while music carried the emotions they couldn't yet express.
And the soundtrack?
Honestly, calling it a soundtrack feels disrespectful.
It was another character.
Every song carried emotional weight.
Every lyric mattered.
Every melody told part of the story.
First Note of Love wasn't simply a romance.
It was a story about finding your voice after losing it.
About learning that grief and joy can exist together.
About understanding that moving forward doesn't mean leaving the past behind.
This wasn't celebrity × fan.
This wasn't sunshine × grumpy.
This was broken musician × person who reminded him that music was never truly gone.
10/10.
Would absolutely sit in that recording studio, cry over songs that don't exist outside this universe, and watch these two find their way back to music and to each other all over again.
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No Touching At All is a slow sunrise. And sometimes that's even more beautiful.
How do you review No Touching At All when your main memories are awkward silences, lingering glances, and two grown men acting like feelings were a government conspiracy?This film really looked at office romances and said, "What if we removed all unnecessary noise and replaced it with yearning?"
Shima had already learned how to survive disappointment.
Keep your distance.
Keep things casual.
Don't expect too much from people.
Simple.
Then Togawa walked into his life and immediately made all of that significantly more difficult.
Because unfortunately for Shima, Togawa possessed three dangerous qualities:
Patience.
Kindness.
And the ability to see straight through him.
Naturally, disaster followed.
Yonashiro Sho brought so much quiet vulnerability to Shima that sometimes it felt like watching someone trying to hold themselves together with sheer determination.
And Watanabe Shu as Togawa?
The king of gentle persistence.
The emperor of emotional intelligence.
The CEO of asking, "Are you okay?" and actually waiting for the answer.
Their relationship wasn't built on dramatic confessions or grand romantic gestures.
It was built on small moments.
Shared drinks after work.
Conversations in elevators.
Walking home together.
The kind of moments that don't look important until one day you realize they've become your entire world.
And honestly?
That's exactly what made this story feel so real.
Because love doesn't always arrive loudly.
Sometimes it arrives quietly.
Sometimes it sits beside you after a long day at work.
Sometimes it asks if you've eaten.
Sometimes it waits patiently for you to believe that you're worth staying for.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director Chihiro Amano understood exactly what this story needed: restraint.
The film trusted silence.
It trusted body language.
It trusted the audience enough to understand what wasn't being said.
The pacing was quiet, deliberate, and deeply intimate.
The office spaces felt ordinary.
The city felt ordinary.
The lives being lived inside them felt ordinary.
And somehow that made everything feel extraordinary.
The cinematography deserves special praise.
The fluorescent office lights.
The rainy streets.
The late-night trains.
Every frame felt grounded in reality.
And the soundtrack?
Minimal.
Subtle.
Perfect.
No Touching At All wasn't trying to reinvent romance.
It wasn't trying to shock you.
It wasn't trying to emotionally destroy you.
It was simply telling the story of two adults learning that vulnerability might be terrifying, but loneliness isn't any easier.
This wasn't enemies-to-lovers.
This wasn't friends-to-lovers.
This was emotionally unavailable office worker × emotionally intelligent man with the patience of a saint.
10/10.
Would absolutely stand awkwardly in that elevator, share convenience store drinks after work, and watch these two slowly learn how to let someone in all over again.
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Cuties
Sky in Your Heart feels like the deep breath you take after surviving the chaos of city life.After the energy and messiness of Star in My Mind, this series arrived with mountains, sunsets, village life, and enough healing energy to fix at least three of my unresolved issues.
Khuafah and Prince were the definition of "I can't stand you" slowly turning into "I would literally move mountains for you."
Mek Jirakit brought so much warmth and vulnerability to Fah. Beneath the teasing and confidence was someone trying to figure out who he wanted to become away from expectations and privilege.
And Mark as Prince? The man had patience levels that deserve scientific study. Watching his walls slowly come down and seeing him allow himself to be cared for was genuinely beautiful.
Their relationship wasn't built on grand gestures or dramatic plot twists. It was built through shared moments, quiet conversations, helping a community, and learning to understand each other. Somehow that made every little moment feel even bigger.
The village itself became a character in the story. The children, the volunteers, the community — they made the world feel warm, lived in, and real.
Mesa and JJ deserve honorary awards for surviving Fah's nonsense.
And can we appreciate the people behind the camera for a moment?
Director Siwaj Sawatmaneekul understood exactly what this story needed: space to breathe. The slower pacing, lingering shots of the mountains, and quiet moments between characters allowed the emotions to settle naturally instead of rushing toward the next plot point.
The teams at GMMTV and Studio Wabi Sabi gave the series a cozy, almost healing atmosphere that perfectly matched its story. The cinematography turned northern Thailand into a love letter to nature, while the soundtrack quietly wrapped itself around every emotional moment.
This wasn't a series trying to be loud.
It didn't need to be.
Its strength was always in the quiet moments:
the shared smiles,
the teasing,
the sunsets,
the conversations under the stars,
and the realization that sometimes love doesn't arrive like a storm.
Sometimes it arrives gently.
Sky in Your Heart wasn't trying to break your heart.
It was trying to heal it.
8.5/10.
Would absolutely move to the mountains, help out at the village, become emotionally attached to everyone, and watch Fah and Prince fall in love all over again.
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An entire campus apparently deciding that everyone should be in love immediately.
How do you review We Are when your main memories are architecture students, group dinners, and an alarming number of people accidentally finding soulmates at the exact same university?This series really looked at university BLs and said, "What if we gave you four couples, one giant friend group, and enough wholesome chaos to sustain an entire fandom?"
First came Phum and Peem.
Or as I like to call them:
Human flirting machine × man pretending he wasn't enjoying any of it.
Pond and Phuwin once again proved that chemistry is apparently one of Thailand's renewable resources.
Phum flirted like it was his full-time job.
Peem resisted like it was his full-time job.
Neither of them were particularly successful.
Then came Tan and Fang.
The definition of "we've been in love with each other for so long that everyone else already knows."
Aou and Boom delivered quiet affection, mature communication, and enough domestic energy to make viewers start planning weddings.
Then there were Chain and Pun.
The soft one and the softer one.
The kind of couple that makes you smile every time they appear on screen without fully understanding why.
And of course, Q and Toey.
Because apparently this friend group was operating under a strict "nobody gets left behind and everybody gets a boyfriend" policy.
Honestly?
Respect.
By the end of the series, it genuinely felt less like watching multiple romances and more like spending time with one enormous found family.
The dinners.
The trips.
The teasing.
The group chats that probably violated several noise regulations.
The friendships mattered just as much as the romances.
And that's exactly why the series worked.
Because We Are understood something important:
Love stories don't happen in isolation.
They happen around friends.
Around shared meals.
Around people who become part of your life simply because they refuse to leave.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director New Siwaj Sawatmaneekul understood exactly what this story needed: comfort.
The series never rushed.
It never forced drama where it didn't belong.
Instead, it trusted the characters and their relationships enough to let viewers simply enjoy spending time with them.
The production team created a university world that felt vibrant, warm, and lived in.
The classrooms.
The studios.
The cafés.
The late-night hangouts.
Everything felt like somewhere you wanted to be.
The cinematography kept things bright and cozy, while the soundtrack somehow managed to make every confession and every lingering glance hit twice as hard.
We Are wasn't trying to reinvent university BLs.
It didn't need to.
This wasn't mafia politics.
This wasn't emotional devastation.
This wasn't overthrowing corrupt systems.
This was comfort television.
Premium-grade comfort television.
This was four couples, one giant friend group, and enough love to make the entire campus feel like home.
10/10.
Would absolutely join the friend group, attend every dinner, and become emotionally attached to every single one of these idiots all over again.
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One man discovering that his biggest competition was actually himself.
How do you review Fish Upon the Sky when your main memories are awkward makeovers, relentless teasing, and Pi looking like stress had personally selected him as its brand ambassador?This series really looked at the university romance genre and said, "What if we added insecurity, comedy, sibling interference, and enough secondhand embarrassment to physically leave your body?"
Pi had a crush.
A very serious crush.
The kind of crush that convinces you a complete personality overhaul is a reasonable life decision.
Unfortunately for him, Mork existed.
Confident.
Charming.
Annoyingly attractive.
And apparently operating on a full-time schedule of making Pi's life significantly more complicated.
Naturally, chaos followed.
Phuwin brought so much vulnerability, awkwardness, and relatable insecurity to Pi that it was impossible not to root for him.
Because beneath all the panic and overthinking was someone simply trying to believe that he was enough.
And honestly?
Haven't we all been there?
And Pond as Mork?
The king of teasing.
The emperor of patience.
The CEO of looking at someone like they've already won a competition they didn't even know they were in.
Watching Mork slowly prove to Pi that he was never interested in the version of Pi trying to impress the world and had always liked the version hiding underneath it all gave us one of the sweetest messages in Thai BL.
Then there was Duean.
The human embodiment of chaos.
The younger brother who somehow managed to create problems and solve them at the exact same time.
His relationship with Meen delivered some of the funniest moments in the entire series and honestly deserved its own support group.
The friend groups, the university setting, and the endless misunderstandings gave the series an energy that felt lively, messy, and incredibly fun.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director New Siwaj Sawatmaneekul understood exactly what this story needed: fun.
The series never took itself too seriously.
The comedy landed, the emotional moments hit when they needed to, and the story never forgot that sometimes romance is supposed to make you laugh as much as it makes you cry.
The production team embraced bright colors, energetic pacing, and exaggerated comedy while still allowing the characters space to grow.
The cinematography reflected the youthful, chaotic energy of university life perfectly.
And the soundtrack?
Pure serotonin.
Every song somehow made an already ridiculous situation feel even more adorable.
Fish Upon the Sky wasn't trying to reinvent the genre.
It wasn't trying to emotionally devastate you.
It wasn't trying to overthrow governments or run mafia empires.
This was chaos.
Premium-grade chaos.
This was insecure dental student × man who apparently decided flirting should qualify as an Olympic event.
10/10.
Would absolutely survive dental school, become emotionally attached to the friend group, and watch Mork flirt aggressively while Pi malfunctioned all over again.
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This feels like a love story written for tired people.
How do you review Love After Addiction when your main memories are sleepless nights, rescue missions, and You Xi looking at Yang Meng like he had personally invented REM sleep?This series really looked at the romance genre and said, "What if we added insomnia, career collapse, emotional dependency, unresolved history, and enough yearning to keep an entire city awake?"
You Xi had fame.
Success.
Recognition.
And absolutely none of the peace that was supposed to come with any of it.
Scandals happened.
Burnout happened.
Sleep stopped happening altogether.
Then came Yang Meng.
Former classmate.
Rescue captain.
Human sleeping pill.
Apparently.
Because somehow, against all known medical science, You Xi discovers that the only place he can sleep peacefully is next to him.
Honestly?
Cinema.
Lin Feng Song brought so much exhaustion, vulnerability, and quiet desperation to You Xi that watching him slowly unravel and rebuild himself felt painfully real.
And Chen Wen as Yang Meng?
The king of patience.
The emperor of emotional stability.
The CEO of accidentally becoming someone's safe place.
Watching Yang Meng slowly realize that You Xi needed far more than sleep while You Xi slowly learned the difference between dependence and love gave us one of the most emotionally mature relationships of the year.
Because this wasn't simply a romance.
It was a story about trust.
About loneliness.
About what happens when someone becomes the first place you've ever felt safe enough to rest.
And honestly?
That might be more intimate than love itself.
The supporting cast understood the assignment too.
The friends.
The colleagues.
The people trying to hold these two together while they stubbornly pretended they were handling everything perfectly fine.
Spoiler:
They were not.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Writer and director Nattachai Jiraanont understood exactly what this story needed: quiet.
The emotional moments weren't rushed.
The silences mattered.
The sleepless nights mattered.
The spaces between conversations often said more than the dialogue itself.
The cinematography deserves special praise.
The city lights at 3 AM.
The empty apartments.
The exhaustion written across faces illuminated by street lamps.
The contrast between sleeplessness and peace.
Every frame felt intimate.
Almost intrusive.
Like we were witnessing moments nobody else was supposed to see.
And the soundtrack?
Absolutely guilty of aiding and abetting emotional devastation.
Every song arrived precisely when viewers had almost convinced themselves they were emotionally stable again.
Almost.
Love After Addiction wasn't simply a BL.
It wasn't simply a second-chance romance.
It was a story about finding rest in another person after forgetting what rest even felt like.
This wasn't celebrity × rescue captain.
This wasn't ex-classmates-to-lovers.
This was insomniac actor × man who accidentally became home.
8/10.
Would absolutely lose sleep, make terrible emotional decisions, and watch these two idiots discover that sometimes the thing you're addicted to isn't sleep.
It's finally feeling safe enough to close your eyes.
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Two men discovering that yelling at each other is apparently just an alternative form of flirting.
How do you review Paint with Love when your main memories are unpaid invoices, artistic meltdowns, and Maze and Phap somehow turning workplace conflict into a love language?This series really looked at the office romance genre and said, "What if we added creative chaos, financial stress, emotional repression, and enough bickering to power the entire company?"
Maze liked order.
Schedules.
Budgets.
Spreadsheets.
The kind of man who probably color-coded his stress.
Then came Phap.
The human embodiment of "we'll figure it out later."
An artist powered entirely by talent, optimism, and a concerning lack of planning.
Naturally, the universe decided these two should spend all of their time together.
What could possibly go wrong?
Singto brought so much quiet frustration and vulnerability to Maze that watching his carefully organized life slowly descend into emotional chaos became one of the best parts of the show.
And Tae Darvid as Phap?
The king of chaos.
The emperor of impulse decisions.
The CEO of solving problems with vibes and determination.
Watching Phap slowly pull Maze out of survival mode while Maze gave Phap the stability and support he had been missing created a relationship that felt surprisingly balanced beneath all the arguments and teasing.
Because beneath the bickering, these two understood each other in ways neither of them expected.
And honestly?
That's where the magic was.
Then there was Nueng and the rest of the team, who somehow managed to turn the office into one giant dysfunctional family.
The friendships, the workplace dynamics, and the shared creative struggles gave the series a warmth that made the world feel lived in.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director Peemapol Panichtamrong understood exactly what this story needed: personality.
The series embraced the chaos, the humor, and the messiness of creative work without losing sight of the emotional heart underneath it all.
The production team leaned heavily into color, art, and visual storytelling, making the studio itself feel like a character in the story.
The paintings.
The sketches.
The unfinished canvases.
Everything reflected the emotional states of the people creating them.
And the cinematography?
Beautifully playful.
Bright colors and creative framing gave the show an energy that perfectly matched its characters.
The soundtrack?
An accomplice to emotional and romantic crimes.
Paint with Love wasn't trying to be the most dramatic BL of its generation.
It wasn't trying to emotionally devastate you.
This was enemies-to-lovers for people who enjoy watching organized men suffer because of artistic chaos gremlins.
This was businessman × artist.
Spreadsheets × paintbrushes.
Control × creativity.
10/10.
Would absolutely work at that studio, miss every deadline imaginable, and watch Maze slowly realize he was hopelessly in love all over again.
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Newsroom chaos, unresolved feelings, professional disasters, & 2 ex-bfs being forced to work 2gether
How do you review The Ex-Morning when your main memories are television studios, passive-aggressive professionalism, and KristSingto looking at each other like they were personally funding therapy industries worldwide?This series really looked at the second-chance romance genre and said, "What if we added career implosions, workplace tension, unresolved heartbreak, and enough longing to power Bangkok?"
Pathaphi was once one of the biggest names in broadcast journalism.
Then life happened.
Career setbacks happened.
Bad decisions happened.
And suddenly the man who used to be the story was becoming one himself.
Then came Tamtawan.
His ex-boyfriend.
His producer.
His problem.
His solution.
The universe truly looked at these two and said, "Communication failed the first time, so let's try mandatory proximity."
Honestly?
Cinema.
Krist brought so much pride, vulnerability, frustration, and quiet loneliness to Phi that watching him slowly unravel felt painfully human.
And Singto as Tamtawan?
The king of restraint.
The emperor of unresolved feelings.
The CEO of saying "I'm over it" while very clearly not being over it.
Watching these two navigate old wounds, unfinished conversations, and feelings that never actually left gave us some of the best emotional tension in recent Thai BL.
Because this wasn't first love.
This was harder.
This was the person who already knows your worst habits, your biggest fears, and exactly how you take your coffee.
This was history.
And history is messy.
The newsroom setting deserves its flowers too.
The deadlines.
The broadcasts.
The production meetings.
The absolute panic of live television.
Everything felt fast, stressful, and alive in exactly the way newsrooms should.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director Lit Phadung Samajarn understood exactly what this story needed: restraint. The series never rushed the reconciliation, never forced forgiveness, and trusted the audience enough to sit in the discomfort of two people who still mattered enormously to each other despite everything that happened between them.
The production teams at GMMTV and Dream Dimension built a world that felt authentic, busy, and lived in, where careers mattered just as much as relationships and where love didn't magically solve every problem overnight.
The cinematography leaned into studio lights, city nights, and quiet moments between broadcasts, while the soundtrack arrived precisely when viewers had almost regained emotional stability.
Almost.
The Ex-Morning wasn't trying to be flashy.
It wasn't trying to reinvent second-chance romances.
It simply understood one very important thing:
There is something uniquely devastating about loving someone twice.
This wasn't enemies-to-lovers.
This wasn't rivals-to-lovers.
This was ex-boyfriends-to-"oh no, the feelings survived the breakup."
10/10.
Would absolutely survive newsroom chaos, make terrible decisions in the name of love, and watch these two idiots fall in love with each other for the second time all over again.
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What do we do with the time we're given?
Some BLs are about falling in love.Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Soul was about what happens when love arrives exactly where life ends.
Because beneath the romance, beneath the supernatural elements, beneath the hospital setting, this was a story about mortality.
About grief.
About acceptance.
About the impossible weight of knowing that no matter how hard we fight, some people cannot be saved.
Dr. Prakan dedicated his life to keeping people alive.
Then he met Tua Phee.
The soul reaper responsible for guiding them away.
One spent his days fighting death.
The other had learned to live beside it.
And somewhere between hospital corridors, impossible choices, and conversations about life that only make sense when you're confronted with death, they found each other.
Watching Prakan slowly understand that medicine cannot win every battle while Tua Phee learned that some connections are powerful enough to transcend even death itself gave us one of the most unique relationships in Thai BL.
Nut and Karn brought a quiet kind of chemistry to these roles.
Not explosive.
Not dramatic.
Comforting.
The kind of chemistry that feels less like watching two people fall in love and more like watching two souls recognize each other.
And honestly?
That somehow made it hurt even more.
But what truly made this series special was its humanity.
The patients weren't plot devices.
The families weren't background characters.
Every life that passed through the hospital mattered.
Every goodbye mattered.
Every loss mattered.
The series understood something many medical dramas forget:
Every patient is someone's entire world.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
Director Phadej Onlahung understood exactly what this story needed: restraint.
The series never rushed its emotional moments.
It trusted silence.
It trusted grief.
It trusted viewers to sit with uncomfortable emotions rather than immediately moving on from them.
The hospital became more than a setting.
It became a place where hope and heartbreak existed side by side every single day.
The cinematography reflected that beautifully.
The bright hospital rooms.
The quiet hallways at night.
The moments where life and death seemed separated by nothing more than a doorway.
And the soundtrack?
Gentle.
Melancholic.
Beautiful.
The kind of music that stays with you long after the episode ends.
Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Soul wasn't simply a BL.
It wasn't simply a supernatural drama.
It was a meditation on life itself.
On how precious time is.
On the people we leave behind.
And on the idea that perhaps love doesn't end simply because life does.
This wasn't doctor × grim reaper.
This was someone who saves lives learning to make peace with death, and someone who walks beside death learning how beautiful life can be.
10/10.
Would absolutely walk those hospital halls again, cry over strangers I'll never meet, and let this story remind me to appreciate the people I still have all over again.
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Religion, grief, identity, first love, & an emotional sniper hiding behind beautiful cinematography.
Somewhere along the way, Ticket to Heaven stopped being a BL for me.It became one of the best dramas I've ever watched.
Not one of the best BLs.
Not one of the best queer stories.
One of the best dramas.
Period.
Because what this series understood so beautifully is that some stories are bigger than romance.
This was a story about faith.
About grief.
About identity.
About guilt.
About family.
About the terrifying loneliness of feeling like the person you are and the person the world expects you to be cannot exist in the same room.
And somehow, it managed to tell that story with so much compassion that it never felt interested in choosing sides.
It simply asked questions.
Difficult questions.
Painful questions.
Questions that don't have easy answers.
And then it trusted us enough to sit with them.
The performances never felt like performances.
They felt lived in.
The silences spoke louder than the dialogue.
The quiet moments somehow carried more weight than the dramatic ones.
Every look felt important.
Every conversation felt necessary.
Every scene felt like it had something to say.
And then there was P'Aof.
At this point, I genuinely believe that man wakes up every morning and chooses emotional devastation as an art form.
Because once again he proved that some of the most powerful stories aren't built on spectacle.
They're built on people.
On emotions.
On the spaces between words.
The direction never tells you what to feel.
It simply opens the door and invites you in.
The cinematography was beautiful without ever feeling showy.
The music knew exactly when to step forward and exactly when to disappear.
The writing respected its characters enough to let them be complicated, messy, and human.
That's rare.
And that's why this story lingers.
Years from now, I probably won't remember every scene.
But I'll remember how it made me feel.
I'll remember the ache.
The hope.
The fear.
The quiet moments that somehow felt enormous.
There are good BLs.
There are great BLs.
And then there are stories that outgrow the genre conversation entirely.
For me, Ticket to Heaven belongs in that last category.
10/10.
Not because it was perfect.
But because it felt honest.
And sometimes honesty leaves a bigger mark than perfection ever could.
And yes.
I am still very much in love with P'Aof for giving us stories like this.
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Shared meals, quiet healing, & proof that food might actually be a love language.
How do you review Our Dining Table when your main memories are homemade lunches, warm kitchens, and Yutaka getting emotionally adopted by an entire family?This series really looked at the slice-of-life genre and said, "What if we replaced drama with cooking, added emotional healing, and let food do most of the talking?"
Yutaka could eat alone just fine.
At least that's what he kept telling himself.
Then one lunch break, one rice ball, and one overly friendly little brother later, his life changed completely.
Honestly?
Cinema.
Hozumi Yutaka was carrying loneliness so quietly that even he had gotten used to it.
Then the Ueda brothers appeared and collectively decided that solitude was no longer an option.
Minoru offered him companionship.
Tane offered him unconditional love and approximately eighty percent of the show's emotional damage.
The child weaponized cuteness and none of us stood a chance.
Inukai Atsuhiro brought so much gentleness and vulnerability to Yutaka that watching him slowly relearn what family and belonging could feel like was incredibly moving.
And Iijima Hiroki as Minoru?
The king of quiet affection.
The emperor of acts of service.
The CEO of saying "I care about you" entirely through food and worried glances.
Watching Minoru and Yutaka grow closer through shared meals and ordinary moments gave us one of the softest romances in recent Japanese BL.
Because this wasn't a story about grand gestures.
It was a story about asking:
"Have you eaten yet?"
And somehow meaning:
"I care about you."
The meals became conversations.
The kitchen became a safe space.
The dining table became home.
And honestly?
That's the kind of romance that stays with you.
Then there was Tane.
The tiny sunshine child.
The world's greatest wingman.
The unofficial captain of this ship.
Half of the relationship progression happened because Tane looked at these two emotionally repressed adults and decided he would simply do it himself.
Legendary behavior.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
The directors understood exactly what this story needed: quiet.
The series never rushed.
It let moments linger.
It trusted silence.
It trusted glances.
It trusted viewers to understand that sometimes the most important things happen between words.
The cinematography deserves special praise.
The sunlight through windows.
The steam rising from food.
The small apartment kitchens.
The family dinners.
Every frame felt warm enough to live inside.
And the soundtrack?
The audio equivalent of coming home after a long day.
Our Dining Table wasn't trying to shock you.
It wasn't trying to emotionally destroy you.
It wasn't giving you mafia shootouts, corporate conspiracies, or time loops.
This was comfort.
Premium-grade comfort.
This was lonely office worker × single dad energy without the actual dad × emotional support child.
This was a story about family.
The family you're born into.
The family you lose.
And the family that quietly finds you when you're not looking for it.
10/10.
Would absolutely learn to cook with them, get emotionally attached to every meal, and let Tane adopt me into the family all over again.
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School Trip: Joined a Group I’m Not Close To
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Tbh, every introvert watching this series had at least 1 moment of thinking: Oh no. That's me.
How do you review School Trip: Joined a Group I'm Not Close To when your main memories are secondhand embarrassment, unexpected friendships, and Asahi looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole for approximately half the series?This show really looked at every introvert's worst nightmare and said, "What if we made it gay?"
Asahi Hioki arrived at the school trip fully prepared to spend the entire time quietly existing in the background.
The universe looked at those plans and laughed.
Suddenly he finds himself grouped with the school's social elite.
The popular kids.
The influencers.
The "how do you have this much confidence at seventeen?" crowd.
Otherwise known as:
The Four Heavenly Kings.
And among them?
Watarai.
Charming.
Popular.
Dangerously good at making Asahi nervous.
The kind of person who walks into a room and somehow convinces everyone else to relax immediately.
Unfortunately for Asahi, this included him.
Watching Asahi slowly go from "please don't perceive me" to actually enjoying himself became one of the most satisfying parts of the series.
Because beneath all the awkwardness, this wasn't just a romance.
It was a story about belonging.
About realizing that maybe people like you more than you think they do.
About discovering that stepping outside your comfort zone doesn't always end in disaster.
Sometimes it ends in friendship.
Sometimes it ends in love.
And sometimes it ends with you accidentally getting adopted by an extrovert.
A tale as old as time.
The chemistry between Asahi and Watarai felt incredibly natural.
The teasing.
The awkward silences.
The tiny moments of courage.
The way Watarai seemed to understand Asahi long before Asahi understood himself.
It all felt wonderfully human.
And can we talk about the people behind the camera?
The production team understood exactly what this story needed: sincerity.
The school trip setting wasn't just a backdrop.
It became a character in itself.
The bus rides.
The shared hotel rooms.
The sightseeing stops.
The late-night conversations that only happen when you're away from home with people who suddenly feel a little less like strangers than they did that morning.
The cinematography leaned into warmth and nostalgia, making the entire series feel like a memory you haven't made yet but somehow miss already.
And the soundtrack?
The audio equivalent of your favorite high school memory.
School Trip: Joined a Group I'm Not Close To wasn't trying to reinvent the coming-of-age genre.
It didn't need to.
This wasn't mafia politics.
This wasn't corporate conspiracies.
This wasn't emotional warfare.
This was social anxiety × popular boy with excellent adoption instincts.
This was awkward smiles, shared experiences, and discovering that maybe you're not as alone as you thought you were.
10/10.
Would absolutely join the wrong group, panic for three business days, become emotionally attached to everyone involved, and watch Asahi get adopted by extroverts all over again.
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