My Youth: Episodes 7-8

by DaebakGrits

It should come as no surprise to viewers that this week’s episodes are full of angst. Our former child star is just coming to terms with his latest prognosis, and with that weighing on his mind, he hesitates to share and place that burden on his leading lady’s shoulders.

Episodes 7-8

After Hae turns down Je-yeon’s confession, she humorously tries to guess why it’s not the “right timing” for Hae to be in a relationship. Her theories that Nu-ri is Hae’s secret daughter and that he’s Pil-do’s biological son couldn’t be further from the truth, but her response to Hae’s rejection does inject some life into an otherwise frustrating moment of noble idiocy. Initially, I admired Je-yeon’s optimism and tenacity. After all, Hae pursued and confessed to her first, so it’s understandable that she would believe that she can convince him that “timing” is a poor excuse for not being in a relationship — or, at the very least get a solid explanation for his rejection.

Je-yeon’s bold declaration that she’s going to “go for it” and win Hae over is more forceful than expected, and her relentless pursuit only adds to the weight he’s already carrying. Beyond his declining health, he’s stretched thin emotionally and financially. Mounting money problems compel him to hand over the film rights to his novel to Pil-do — a blow to both his pride and instincts. On top of that, he’s acting as both a guardian and older brother to Nu-ri, who is preparing for graduation. Her potential acceptance into college, fueled by a hidden passion for photography (something she kept from Hae due to his discomfort with cameras), will likely become yet another financial challenge.

Against Hae’s better judgment, he still finds comfort in Je-yeon’s presence and is tempted to cling to her and use her as an escape from his overwhelming reality. But her insistent efforts to manufacture a romantic atmosphere feel jarringly out of place and the opposite of what he needs in the moment. Like a splash of cold water, her repeated attempts to initiate a kiss cross the line from affectionate to unsettling, underscoring the harsh truth: Hae can’t offer her a future filled with stability or joy, no matter how much he may want to.

So, while I normally would bemoan a noble idiocy plotline and yell at Hae to just tell Je-yeon the truth and let her make her choice, this time I find myself more supportive of Hae’s decision. Not going to lie, a large part of my reaction is because Je-yeon’s behavior is extremely offputting, but even if I set aside my dislike for her character, Hae objectively has a lot of valid reasons for taking a step back from Je-yeon. For starters, he’s still coming to terms with his most recent diagnosis, and he isn’t ready to disclose that information to anyone — let alone Je-yeon. It’s his right to share this prognosis when he’s ready. Second, Hae’s justified in fearing Je-yeon’s reaction. She’s obviously caught up in the giddy, first-love feeling, and he knows that will come to a screeching halt once she knows the truth.

Best case scenario, Hae and Je-yeon date and his illness becomes a dark cloud over their relationship. Worst case scenario, she rejects him because she doesn’t want the hardships that would come with dating someone with a chronic, potentially deadly illness. Given Je-yeon’s childishness and narcissism, which never allowed her to ponder the possibility — or notice the obvious signs — that Hae might have had a serious reason for putting some space between them, it’s natural for him to fear her reaction to his condition. Quite frankly, she’s not very mature, and it seems unlikely that she will handle the truth well.

Not to mention, her present dogged pursuit doesn’t feel entirely motivated by her love for Hae. You see, Je-yeon now finds herself with a lot of time on her hands because her position at Feel Entertainment is in jeopardy. First, Pil-do forced her to take a “vacation” after she got in that altercation with her coworker (unfair!), and then, more recently, she was pulled from her management duties because the wife of Feel Entertainment’s newest actor despises Je-yeon (what’s the backstory there?!). Her job was her one constant for the last six years, and she’s extremely distraught at the possibility of losing her position and the perks and stability that come with her job as a manager. Call me a cynic, but I can’t help but wonder how much of her attachment is fueled by her need to tether herself to Hae now that she’s feeling adrift professionally.

Despite Hae’s reservations, his own feelings for Je-yeon make it hard for him to push her away or say no when Je-yeon asks him to teach her how to ride a bicycle. They schedule a time to meet up, and as he gets dressed, Hae practices telling Je-yeon about his illness. He never makes it to their date, though, because he collapses before he can step foot out the door.

He wakes up in the ER with Geon-no at his side, but his only concern is that he missed his date with Je-yeon. He leaves the hospital to search for her, and he finds her waiting on his doorstep in the pouring rain. She’s relieved to see he’s alright, as she’d feared the worst, and asks him to promise to never do that to her again — but he can’t. Although it’s the perfect segway for him to explain that he’s sick, he doesn’t get the chance to reveal the truth because Je-yeon assumes this is another sign that she doesn’t matter to him and accepts it’s the end of their relationship — until she gets drunk and comes back for round two.

That’s right, even though Je-yeon chose to give up on Hae after being stood up, she drowns her sorrows in some alcohol and decides she deserves an explanation, a desire I can support even if I’m perturbed that she didn’t wait to hear what Hae had to say earlier. She shows up unannounced at Hae’s flower shop and demands to know what she did wrong, and because he can’t let her keep thinking she’s to blame for his behavior, he comes clean about his sickness.

While Je-yeon takes time to process Hae’s diagnosis, Tae-rin and Seok-joo continue to prove that they’re the light-hearted love line in this melodrama. That isn’t to say, of course, that neither of them have their own issues, but the writers have certainly made them less depressing. Instead of drama and tropes pushing them apart, their personal struggles are providing the groundwork for their budding relationship.

Tae-rin is still insecure as an actress and concerned about her future career despite her documentary with Hae trending and showing her in a favorable light. She’s cautious and thoughtful when selecting her next project, and even though she trusts Han-na more than Pil-do to help guide her, Tae-rin’s little comments about Han-na’s business location and lack of furniture and a building elevator are definitely her way of hinting at her concerns for the company’s — and her — future success.

At the same time, Seok-joo is fighting Pil-do’s unilateral decision to have him take over Feel Entertainment even though he has no desire to switch careers. Come to find out, Seok-joo is an accountant, and his life intersects with Tae-rin’s again when Han-na hires him to manage Tae-rin’s finances. He questions Tae-rin about her spending habits, and that’s when they discover they both blow bubbles whenever they feel the urge to smoke, which prompts them to go on a shopping spree at Tae-rin’s favorite bubble supplier. Later, after a Subway PPL break for lunch, Seok-joo obligingly encases Tae-rin in a giant bubble, and they bond over their shared feelings of inadequacy — courtesy of Pil-do. (The look on Seok-joo’s face when he stares at Tae-rin gives me life and the motivation to keep watching this drama.)

Eventually, Je-yeon approaches Hae to further discuss his illness, having decided that she doesn’t believe their relationship should end the same as it did in the past — abruptly and without communication. She tentatively asks Hae if he will die, and he pessimistically answers, “Yes, if I’m unlucky, and I’ve been unlucky.” (Yeah, because the writers of this drama suck.) Sensing that Hae is determined to end their relationship and there’s no room for bargaining, Je-yeon doesn’t put up a fight. Instead, she tells him not to follow her so they can have a clean break, and with her parting words, their relationship is seemingly over. (But it’s obviously not — not with four episodes left in our story.)

After their talk, Hae pensively reflects on his past. He has good memories, like the opening of his flower shop, which was attended by all the people he cares about, but his life has been so fraught with tragedy and turmoil that he realizes he’s never gotten the chance to live. Chan, who is so eager to reconnect with Hae now that he realizes they have a shared interest in writing, was never there when Hae needed him growing up. Hae finally unburdens himself, addresses his hurt, and expresses his disappointment in Chan, revealing he chose to take care of Nu-ri because he feared turning into him. However, now that he’s reflecting on his life and all that he’s missed out on, a part of Hae wishes he’d inherited Chan’s irresponsibility — because then he would have lived however he wanted.

Although Hae’s emotional conversation with his father was long overdue, Hae displays some concerning behaviors both during and after the confrontation that suggest he might be suicidal. When arguing with his father, Hae asks Chan if he wants him to die now, and afterwards Hae also appears to be trying to force a connection between Nu-ri and her mother, who recently came out of the woodwork. It’s like he’s trying to ensure Nu-ri has someone — in addition to Seok-joo, of course — to care for her when he’s gone. While these could just be signs he’s preparing for a point in the near distant future, when he eventually succumbs to his illness, there’s a prevailing sense that he expects his demise will occur sooner rather than later, as if he’s contemplating ending his life before succumbing to his disease.

Given Hae’s mental state, it probably isn’t wise for him to go drinking by himself, but his choice to find a bar and drink excessively is also a part of him trying to seize the moment and live “irresponsibly,” as poverty and his poor health dissuaded him from drinking in the past. Unexpectedly, Hae finds himself seated at a table with an equally drunk baseball player who uses metaphor to encourage Hae to live life to the fullest — no matter if he’s hit an out or home run.

At the same time, Je-yeon visits her mother to try and clear her head and sort her thoughts, and somewhere in between doing arts and crafts, the recurring jokes about dating Seok-joo or one of his coworkers, and climbing a mountain with her mom, Je-yeon decides to push ahead and try again with Hae. Han-na hired Hae, the proud owner of a truck, to move the office chairs mistakenly delivered to her mother’s address, and Je-yeon shows up unexpectedly to assist him. The chore enables them to spend some time together, and when they pause to treat Je-yeon’s indigestion and rest at a nearby park, she further extends their trip by convincing Hae to teach her how to ride a bike.

“Fear comes from imagination. Don’t imagine falling down,” he instructs, and Je-yeon pointedly comments that he doesn’t follow his own advice, suggesting his fear of dying and making her sad is blocking him from finding his own happiness. Inevitably, the bike lesson becomes a discussion about their relationship. Je-yeon wants to keep seeing Hae, but his desire to not cause her long-term sadness and misery prompts him to reject her and retreat to a nearby restroom to treat a nosebleed. (Guess that inspiring talk with the drunk baseball player wasn’t encouraging enough to change his perspective on life.)

When Hae emerges from the restroom, he can’t locate Je-yeon. Instead, he finds a crowd of people clustered around an overturned bicycle and blood stain. According to a bystander, a woman riding the bike fell and was rushed to the hospital. Hae frantically calls Je-yeon’s cell phone, but she doesn’t pick up.

These were some rough episodes to watch — partially because of the somber tone and partially because of the unsufferable writing choices. Hae’s life has just been a long series of sad and depressing events, and while it was painful to watch him spiral after his most recent doctor’s visit, his reaction — even his noble idiocy — was reasonable. He definitely pushed Je-yeon away because he thought she’d be better off without him, but he also did it for himself to some extent. First he needed the time to process his diagnosis, and then, as much as he wanted to be with her, he decided that he didn’t want to see her go through the pain of watching his decline.

Hae’s emotions burst during his confrontation with Chan, and despite the soul-crushing topic of their conversation, this week’s episodes peaked during this scene. It was such a profound moment for Hae to finally confront his father about his abandonment, and while Song Joong-ki’s acting has been kind of middle-of-the-road for me up until this point, he did exceptionally well to capture Hae’s varyingly complex range of emotions — pain, regret, desperation, guilt — in this moment. Unfortunately, Chan’s tearful apology and concern for Hae felt contrastingly underwhelming, and I suspect that’s largely to do with the fact that Jo Han-cul is injecting his trademark bumbling idiot charm into a character that’s obviously not meant to be charming.

And speaking of unappealing characters: Je-yeon. As the leading lady, I should like her, but I don’t — especially not after she tried to force kisses on Hae this week. Again, though, I attribute my dislike for Je-yeon to the poor writing because no actress could have made her predatory pursuit of Hae romantic or cute. And add Je-yeon’s recent behavior to her ongoing indecisiveness and poor communication, and you have two frustratingly long episodes with a lot of unnecessary push and pull between two characters who have inexplicably been hung up on each other since high school. To tell the truth, the only reason I’m rooting for this OTP is because Hae’s life has sucked, and his character deserves happiness — even if his happiness is Je-yeon.

 
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