K-Drama 
This review may contain spoilers
Sometimes being free is the real love story
Hold on, Harutora-kun is such a genuinely sweet and thoughtful series — but what stayed with me most wasn't simply how cute Sui and Harutora are together.
It was how much the series cares about what it actually means for a queer teenager to live openly.
Sui has learned to survive by hiding. The mask isn't just something he wears on his face; it's become a way of keeping people from getting too close. He laughs along with the teasing, makes himself the easygoing one and tries not to let anyone see how much the homophobic comments around him actually hurt. Harutora slowly gives him something Sui has never really had before: a relationship in which he doesn't have to constantly protect himself.
And I absolutely loved Harutora for that.
He's affectionate, attentive and almost painfully sincere — a genuine green flag. But what I liked most is that the series doesn't make him into some magical person who “fixes” Sui. He simply creates a space where Sui can gradually learn that he doesn't have to hide anymore.
That's why Sui saying that he is finally free at the end worked so well for me.
Free from the mask.
Free from pretending the homophobic comments don't hurt.
Free from having to hide his sexuality.
Free enough to finally tell his mother who he really is.
And then seeing the two of them holding hands, openly and without trying to hide, made all the sweetness of the series feel much more meaningful.
This is actually something I wish Your Summer, My Storm had explored more. I loved that series for its realism and its questions about what romantic feelings actually mean, but I wanted more of the specifically queer experience around its romance. Hold on, Harutora-kun puts that much closer to the centre.
That also makes the series feel particularly meaningful to me in a Japanese context. I'm not going to pretend this is some brutally realistic depiction of queer life, because it isn't. There are moments where the tone feels very much like a Japanese BL: everyone is incredibly polite, everyone smiles a little too perfectly, and some of the intimacy feels almost painfully restrained. The intimate scenes in particular can feel awkward enough that they sometimes pull me out of the romance.
But somehow, those weaknesses mattered less and less to me as the series went on.
Because underneath all the sweetness, Hold on, Harutora-kun is telling a story about a boy who has spent a long time believing that hiding himself is the safest way to exist — and who eventually gets to choose something different.
And honestly? Watching Sui and Harutora walk through the world holding hands was enough to make me smile.
Not because it was particularly spectacular.
But because for Sui, it meant everything.
It was how much the series cares about what it actually means for a queer teenager to live openly.
Sui has learned to survive by hiding. The mask isn't just something he wears on his face; it's become a way of keeping people from getting too close. He laughs along with the teasing, makes himself the easygoing one and tries not to let anyone see how much the homophobic comments around him actually hurt. Harutora slowly gives him something Sui has never really had before: a relationship in which he doesn't have to constantly protect himself.
And I absolutely loved Harutora for that.
He's affectionate, attentive and almost painfully sincere — a genuine green flag. But what I liked most is that the series doesn't make him into some magical person who “fixes” Sui. He simply creates a space where Sui can gradually learn that he doesn't have to hide anymore.
That's why Sui saying that he is finally free at the end worked so well for me.
Free from the mask.
Free from pretending the homophobic comments don't hurt.
Free from having to hide his sexuality.
Free enough to finally tell his mother who he really is.
And then seeing the two of them holding hands, openly and without trying to hide, made all the sweetness of the series feel much more meaningful.
This is actually something I wish Your Summer, My Storm had explored more. I loved that series for its realism and its questions about what romantic feelings actually mean, but I wanted more of the specifically queer experience around its romance. Hold on, Harutora-kun puts that much closer to the centre.
That also makes the series feel particularly meaningful to me in a Japanese context. I'm not going to pretend this is some brutally realistic depiction of queer life, because it isn't. There are moments where the tone feels very much like a Japanese BL: everyone is incredibly polite, everyone smiles a little too perfectly, and some of the intimacy feels almost painfully restrained. The intimate scenes in particular can feel awkward enough that they sometimes pull me out of the romance.
But somehow, those weaknesses mattered less and less to me as the series went on.
Because underneath all the sweetness, Hold on, Harutora-kun is telling a story about a boy who has spent a long time believing that hiding himself is the safest way to exist — and who eventually gets to choose something different.
And honestly? Watching Sui and Harutora walk through the world holding hands was enough to make me smile.
Not because it was particularly spectacular.
But because for Sui, it meant everything.
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