a love story that haunts you
I stumbled upon Something In My Room through a random YouTube recommendation and decided to give it a shot without expecting much. To my surprise, it turned out to be one of the most cohesive and emotionally grounded BL dramas I’ve watched, especially coming from the 2022 lineup.
At first glance, the plot might sound like a typical ghost-human love story. A spirit with no memory, a living boy who can see him—sounds like the usual horroresque setup, right? But the show cleverly veers away from cheap scare tactics and focuses instead on emotional healing, grief, and closure. It wasn’t trying to be a horror, and I appreciated that. Instead, it offered something heartfelt and quietly haunting.
The storyline follows Phob, a ghost who must remember his past to move on, and Phat, the boy who gets tangled in his story. What could’ve easily been predictable was instead carefully thought out. Each mystery unraveled with satisfying pacing, and the final episode felt like a proper farewell. I genuinely think this could’ve made a solid sequel or spin-off with its fresh concept, especially compared to most of what 2025 is offering.
Nut (Phob), whom I’ve seen from Pit Babe Season 1, absolutely delivered. He wasn't just eye candy—his comedic timing and emotional depth were unexpectedly strong. He deserves another lead role after Pit Babe 2, no question. Phat’s actor, while occasionally underwhelming in certain scenes, had a solid performance overall and matched well with Nut. Their chemistry was believable and quietly intense.
There were side characters that worked and some that didn’t. Uncle Nong and Aunt Nuan were standout additions, particularly when Nuan’s storyline with Phob’s father came to light. That twist caught me off guard. Dream, the ever-supportive friend, was another strong presence that made scenes feel less isolated. On the other hand, Lak—honestly, just toss him in the river and move on. And Phat’s mom? Her presence didn’t impact the story much. She felt like background noise to an already full narrative.
There were a few parts that confused me. I was taken aback when Phat suddenly touched Phob or when Phob appeared in a black shirt—both moments felt jarring until explained later. These moments could’ve benefitted from a more immediate clarification.
The ending is where the drama takes a risk. Many fictional stories tend to wrap up with feel-good conclusions, even in death. I thought they might pull the reincarnation route or have some magical workaround, but they didn’t. And I respect that. It’s a sobering reminder that sometimes love just doesn’t get the fairy tale ending. But the subtle hint that Phob waited for Phat to pass before meeting again gave the final scene a quiet closure that stayed with me. It wasn’t sugarcoated, but it was honest.
There’s a deeper layer to this show, beyond romance. It dares to ask what grief and anger do to us, how we project our pain onto others, and whether love—even when genuine—is enough to bridge the gap between life and death.
Something In My Room is not perfect, but it’s a rare gem. It stands apart from the overused rom-com formula and dares to end without pretending everything will be okay. It’s eerie, heartfelt, and quietly bold.
At first glance, the plot might sound like a typical ghost-human love story. A spirit with no memory, a living boy who can see him—sounds like the usual horroresque setup, right? But the show cleverly veers away from cheap scare tactics and focuses instead on emotional healing, grief, and closure. It wasn’t trying to be a horror, and I appreciated that. Instead, it offered something heartfelt and quietly haunting.
The storyline follows Phob, a ghost who must remember his past to move on, and Phat, the boy who gets tangled in his story. What could’ve easily been predictable was instead carefully thought out. Each mystery unraveled with satisfying pacing, and the final episode felt like a proper farewell. I genuinely think this could’ve made a solid sequel or spin-off with its fresh concept, especially compared to most of what 2025 is offering.
Nut (Phob), whom I’ve seen from Pit Babe Season 1, absolutely delivered. He wasn't just eye candy—his comedic timing and emotional depth were unexpectedly strong. He deserves another lead role after Pit Babe 2, no question. Phat’s actor, while occasionally underwhelming in certain scenes, had a solid performance overall and matched well with Nut. Their chemistry was believable and quietly intense.
There were side characters that worked and some that didn’t. Uncle Nong and Aunt Nuan were standout additions, particularly when Nuan’s storyline with Phob’s father came to light. That twist caught me off guard. Dream, the ever-supportive friend, was another strong presence that made scenes feel less isolated. On the other hand, Lak—honestly, just toss him in the river and move on. And Phat’s mom? Her presence didn’t impact the story much. She felt like background noise to an already full narrative.
There were a few parts that confused me. I was taken aback when Phat suddenly touched Phob or when Phob appeared in a black shirt—both moments felt jarring until explained later. These moments could’ve benefitted from a more immediate clarification.
The ending is where the drama takes a risk. Many fictional stories tend to wrap up with feel-good conclusions, even in death. I thought they might pull the reincarnation route or have some magical workaround, but they didn’t. And I respect that. It’s a sobering reminder that sometimes love just doesn’t get the fairy tale ending. But the subtle hint that Phob waited for Phat to pass before meeting again gave the final scene a quiet closure that stayed with me. It wasn’t sugarcoated, but it was honest.
There’s a deeper layer to this show, beyond romance. It dares to ask what grief and anger do to us, how we project our pain onto others, and whether love—even when genuine—is enough to bridge the gap between life and death.
Something In My Room is not perfect, but it’s a rare gem. It stands apart from the overused rom-com formula and dares to end without pretending everything will be okay. It’s eerie, heartfelt, and quietly bold.
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