#ianshin

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapters 21 + 22

Ian had planned to pick up his fabricated ID the day before, but between some unspecified trouble and his entire first night with Jo, he’d gotten sidelined. It was Jo, really, who made him delay getting the fake ID. The name on it? David Kim - about as generic as it gets for a Korean American guy. Like, it’s practically the first name that comes to mind when thinking about a Korean American male . What I don’t get is why he even needs a fake ID if he’s planning to disappear but still stay in the country. In the States, you can ghost pretty easily without one: take buses, trains, or just drive safely enough. Avoid bars, skip the places that require an ID, and nobody’s going to hassle you for it. But Ian doesn’t have a clear exit plan yet. Then there’s his ass — it’s still throbbing from last night. Yeah, he definitely overdid it. And Jo… It’s not like Ian didn’t catch the look on Jo’s face when he left. He saw it all, expected that stunned reaction, really. He knows how “good guys” like Jo react. That’s why he had to be cold, to cut things off cleanly. Better this way, he knows he’s let guard down too much around Jo already.

Ji Woon pulls over beside him moments later, relaying that TJ wants to meet. Right on cue. How’d he time this so perfectly? Did TJ have someone tail Ian last night? Does he already know about Ian and Jo’s first night together? But Ji Woon shrugs it off, claiming he just came to check on Ian after his phone went unanswered. Sure, okay. Then there’s the girl. When Ian arrives at TJ’s place, a beautiful girl in a short skirt slips out of TJ’s room, drenched in his signature cologne—the same bottle Ian spotted by the bathroom sink later. Subtle, TJ. So here’s the whole scenario last night: Ian was reeling from a night with Jo, while TJ’s clearly been… busy with this girl. And let’s not dance around it — TJ is bisexual. I mentioned this the second time, because, let’s be real, I’ve scrolled enough Reddit threads to know how often gay guys get burned by bi dudes. More options, less stakes. Love’s not always enough, right? They take the path of least resistance. Classic. But TJ—really? You hook up with some random girl reeking of your cologne, then pivot to summoning Ian like nothing happened? Do you ever think about how he’d feel walking into that? The perfume, the girl, the whole messy tableau? Or is this your twisted way of balancing the scales? Ian’s not having it today. He’s drained, his body still humming with last night’s… exertions. But they eat burgers anyway.

TJ’s game is played well, isn’t it? I bought those burgers we used to eat when we were younger — figured nostalgia might chain you to the past. To me.

- You haven’t changed a bit.

- You changed a lot

Of course TJ knows everything. The burger stunt? Timed right after he catches wind of Ian’s escape plan. And then he drops California — the same dream TJ shattered years ago when he threw Ian off that second-floor balcony. Broke his legs. Crushed his future. And now, how dare you dredge up California again? Too late for redemption arcs, buddy. But here we are: TJ’s pivoting to his “good guy” act, all staged remorse and reheated memories. Classic manipulator’s playbook. First, the guilt trip. Next? The inevitable rebellion.

The memory hits like a gut punch: Red Lady’s Burger, their eating ritual during the old days. Jason always saw through TJ — the raw ambition to claw his way to the top, yes, but also the quiet, inconvenient ache TJ carried for Ian. Back then, Jason played mentor, laying out the hierarchy without flinching: Money first. Power. Honor. And girls. Cold, but practical. “The heart changes,” he warned. “Let it flare up, and everything you’ve built burns with it. Think with your head.” Stay close enough to the fire to feel its heat, he said, but never get scorched. And honestly? I get it. Jason���s the kind of villain you almost root for — a man who knows you can’t have it all. Sacrifice isn’t noble; it’s arithmetic. Want the crown? Cut the weight dragging you down. For TJ, that weight was Ian. But that was the old TJ. Not the man he is now. And like Ian said—TJ’s changed. A lot.

As expected, Jo replays the night on a loop — the glances, the touches, the unspoken something — so much so that he seems haunted, almost depressed. He senses something was off the day before and knows he needs to talk to Ian about it. Unable to contain his turmoil any longer, Jo arrives at Ian’s apartment, sitting at the foot of the stairs to wait. When Ian finally returns home, another tense conversation unfolds. Jo grabs Ian’s wrist, his voice trembling as he asks whether everything between them the night before had been wrong. Ian brushes it off, insisting nothing was wrong—until he delivers the cutting question: “Are you sure you’re not misreading things?” Still trapped in Jo’s grip, Ian dismisses the previous night as a spur-of-the-moment lapse, nothing more than two people indulging a fleeting desire. The words freeze Jo in place. Deep down, he’d known he might end up like this—someone who clings too tightly after a single night—but he’d let himself hope anyway. After all, it had felt mutual in the moment. Yet now, the truth crashes over him: he’s the one who fell harder, while Ian walks away unscathed. What Jo had dared to imagine as a beginning was, for Ian, merely an ending.

Ian held Jo’s gaze—those eyes that never failed to soften his defenses—but he steeled himself and let the cruelty spill out anyway. Jo released Ian’s hand, nodding slowly as the truth carved into him: he’d misunderstood. He never should’ve started this. He’d been so sure their feelings had aligned last night, so certain of a shared thread of longing. Jo, I’m with you. I know how you feel. I resonate deeply with you. Jo didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. He simply let the delusion dissolve—the fantasies he’d spun of them, of a future Ian had never once named. Quietly, he turned his back, footsteps heavy yet steady as he walked away, returning to the restaurant and the life that existed before Ian blurred its edges.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapters 19 + 20

Ian is stunned by the kiss, hardly able to believe Jo’s lips are pressed against his. In that fleeting moment, he notices Jo’s eyes are closed—as if to let his mind fully absorb the intensity and every sensation that sharpen into a very visceral experience. This is Jo’s first time kissing a guy. A guy Ian’s quietly longed for and keeps his feelings simmering beneath the surface until now.

In the heat of the moment, Ian’s thoughts spiral. He leans in, kissing Jo back with a hunger that surprises even himself. His thoughts now are a mix of everything: this is the one he’d laid eyes on for a while, first fell for his beauty and then won over by his mind; the one who’d rested his head on Ian’s shoulder as a shooting star tore through the night sky; the one who’d just claimed him as a boyfriend in front of the world. This kiss brings him more happiness than he could ever know. Yet guilt crashes over him. How could he have said those cruel things earlier? What kind of fool lashes out at someone this radiant, this fiercely kind? Desperation takes over. The kiss deepens, his tongue brushes against Jo’s in a reckless, maddening impulse he can’t restrain. He’s rushing, he knows it, but the taste of Jo is dizzying. Too much, too fast. Jo stiffens, grabbing Ian’s arm to halt him. This is his first time with a guy, after all—Ian reads the hesitation in his touch, the unspoken fear.

Ian teases him: Is this not what you always want? Your face gives you away, Jo. He knows exactly how to turn Jo on — how that hesitant, almost innocent resistance only fuels him. Every touch, every kiss, burns through Ian’s self-control. He can’t stop himself from claiming every inch of Jo, as if marking territory. Mine. Jo doesn’t pull away, not truly, even if he never meant for things to go this far. The beauty mark under Jo’s lips is really something to Ian, and he does not mind tells Jo that the mark is so attractive, before tracing it with his tongue. And later, when he discovers another mark lower down—a secret only Ian gets to map—it feels like uncovering a buried treasure. As revealed in later chapters, Ian always finds having s*x with Ian like the first time no matter how many times they do it. The way their bodies click into place like a language only they speak. This, this collision of hunger and tenderness, all these feelings, all these chemistry, are what he’d meant all along.

And then… hot s*x… It’s all about basic instincts, and their/our taste in these intimate moments. I might find it hot, but there might be something a real turn off to others. The first time with a guy of Jo, who Ian promised to be gentle, surprises Ian, because Jo eventually takes the lead. The shyness melts away, now replaced by a ferocity that leaves Ian breathless. Now Jo’s recurring dreams have become a reality, and for Ian, the guy he has been wishing to have this moment with, has been finally his. The night spirals, a relentless rhythm of skin and sweat, pants and whispered angst. Ian loses track of time, until the last piece of latex was used, and Ian can’t go anymore. The peaks are reached, and the night deepens with their waves of carnal desires. Exhausted, Jo pulls him close, murmuring how adorable Ian had been that first time. They sleep next to each other until dawn breaks with rain pattering against the windows.

Jo woke up and fumbles for his phone. Instead, his fingers close around Ian’s phone when it buzzes with an incoming call. The screen flashes TJ, a name that prickles the back of Jo’s neck. The same TJ who called during their first date. Before he can dwell, the bathroom door clicks open and Ian steps out. Jo freezes, the phone slipping from his grip. There’s something about the way Ian’s hair falls, damp and tousled, over his forehead, free from its usual slicked-back restraint that Jo finds so fresh and young. Without thinking, he crosses the room and wraps his arms around Ian’s waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asks, voice rough with hope. Ian removed Jo’s hands around his waist, leaving Jo stand rooted. Some feeling deepens inside Jo, he feels it then: the cruel twist. He is afraid that everything between them is just a one-night stand, and he’ll soon become the guy he fought yesterday. That very idea starts to grow bigger in him, and reaches climax when Ian touches him and says “Last night was fun”, then snaps the door shut behind him.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 18

This chapter brims with raw emotion gravity, and I find myself compelled to analyze the intricate aspects of Jo and Ian’s dynamic. Every gesture, every flicker of eye contact, every weighted silence between their words — each moment is a microscope of unspoken truths. Here, the characters are given the privacy to sit down and unravel their guarded layers, to let vulnerability seep in beyond the surface. Through their conversation, we can see clearly how difficult love can become and how it strains under a weight of different backgrounds and perspectives in life. Love demands not just empathy, but also the perception and the courage. It’s a reminder: loving someone isn’t about fixing them or merging into one story, but about leaning into the messy work of understanding. Love here isn’t grand gestures; it’s the quiet, daily choice to show up, even when their ‘versions’ of life clash. And maybe that’s the hardest part: growth isn’t a solo climb, but a slow, uneven walk you take together.

Chris’s curiosity about Jo and Ian’s relationship spills out, he asked Jo if they are close and if Ian is any scary or strange. Jo confirms their bond, and he’s also taken aback why Chris said such a bad thing about Ian. Then something outside the windows snags the attention of both of them: it looks like Ian is tanged in a heated argument with a stranger. Before Chris can process the scene, Jo vanishes, sprinting to intervene. So, after all, the feelings Jo had towards Ian runs deeper than he lets on. He feels uneasy seeing Ian like that. He feels himself the responsibility to be there for Ian, to protect him. The seeds of love have been successfully sown in the right soil.

The man clings to Ian’s leg, desperately pleading with him to reconsider and answer his calls probably after their fleeting one-night stand. Then, like clockwork, a classic K-drama moment erupts: Jo springs into action, he grabs him roughly and gets him mad. Oh wow, classic boyfriend material behavior — the kind where the male lead lunges to defend his love interest from harassment. The confrontation escalated instantly into a messy fight, probs a nasty one, ‘cuz Jo’s tee ends up torn as revealed later when he follows Ian home. “Are you his boyfriend or something?” Ian: “No, it’s not like that, I…”

But Jo, fueled by every suppressed emotion he’s ever felt for Ian, cuts him off with a declaration that echoes louder than any formal confession: “Yes. I am Ian’s boyfriend.” The word “boyfriend” slips out before he’s even confessed his feelings privately — but in that moment, it is the confession. A public, irrevocable claim that leaves the entire scene frozen. Even a passing dog pauses, side-eyeing the drama (Doyak’ humor haha).

Jo finally sees Ian’s apartment properly, and it’s starkly mininalist. Ian gave Jo a black tee so he can change, because the yellow tee he is wearing has now ripped because of the fight. But the atmosphere becomes heavy when Jo asked if that guy comes to find him often. And Ian told Jo everything about what type of guys he usually encounters. Jo flinches at the line “most of them are cool”. Yeah, it’s exactly “most of them” - a tiny dagger to Jo’s chest. But Jo is not the only, it stings me, too. I have been feeling empathy with Jo since the beginning, the way Jo loves is exactly the way I love someone in real life. So what am I supposed to feel when someone who I have been thinking of a lot tells me that they have many encounters? Jo stays silent, deep in his thoughts. “But, it seemed he was genuinely hurt”. You fight him, and now you’re pitying him, ‘cuz you’re good in nature. Are you feeling sorry for him, or you’re feeling sorry for yourself, Jo, for what you’ve been picturing Ian so far, for the idea of Ian you have in your mind? I believe everyone can sense the internal struggle of Jo since this moment.

I hoped his first visit of Ian’s place can be soft, maybe even sweet, but eventually it turned out to be a chance for Jo to be vulnerable.

Want a beer? - No, thanks.

Do you have work left? - No.

That’s how Jo answers Ian’s questions. Ian notices immediately Jo is not himself and under the weather today.

Jo changed into the black tee that Ian handed him, and he is shirtless before Ian. And Ian does not waste a second admiring the view - Jo’s broad shoulders and that sculpted V-taper. Ian decides to take action, he steps closer to Jo to check the fit of his own shirt on Jo’s body. Ian brushes Jo’s shoulder to find the fit is perfect, but Jo’s heart is about to jump of out his chest. The second time Ian touches him, I just don’t know if it is a flirting or not. Just as Ian steps back, Jo’s voice cracks the silence: You still can’t remember that guy’s name, can you? Do you always… forget? The question hangs, raw and layered. Is he really asking about strangers? Or is it a veiled plea: Will I become just another ghost to you? Someone who loves you, only to fade into the static of all the rest? Ian’s response cut even deeper: Is forgetting their names really such a crime? He admitted he rarely bothers to remember them, doesn’t care to, and sees no reason he should. What surprised me — and, I suspect, Ian himself—was Jo’s sharp retort: “You shouldn’t mess with people like that.” Classic Jo. Yup, that’s Jo. Direct and unflinching, calling Ian out in those exact words. Honestly, If I were Jo, I would I’d said the same. Ian does not know why he’s trying to explain himself to Jo, that the world out there is diverse, and there are people living like that. His tangled past, his depressed true calling, and his habit of surrendering to TJ’s whim under the guise of love have warped his sense of worth. He thinks he does not deserve to love or be loved exclusively. That’s why he flits between different one night stands just to find no one under his wings at the end of the day. He did like, or love TJ. TJ even has just built that lavish mansion for him and Ian to be together, and now? Ian’s ready to walk away, reducing it al to “just friends.”

Jo’s voice fractures mid-denial: not me. A shaky confession, as if he’s pleading with himself as much as Ian. I’m not like them. The words hang heavy, and Ian feels the sting of his own recklessness — the invisible wound he’s carved into Jo. Guilt propels him to the couch, sinking into the space beside Jo. It’s better this way, he murmurs, avoiding Jo’s eyes. You’re good… not like me. Jo denied “No, you don’t know your self that well. The Ian I know is gentle and kind. You’re good, and good people like you need to be surrounded by good people.” It’s there, unspoken but deafening: Stay with me. Let me be your good. This is a very bold move by Jo, to be honest. For a heartbeat, the room stills. Then Ian recoils, the tenderness curdling into something darker. You don’t know me, he bites out, retreating into the shadows of his own history. Not the life I’ve lived. Not the things I’ve done to survive.

Both of them are now so deep in a difficult and vulnerable conversation. The air between them hangs thick, charged with truths too fragile to voice aloud. Eyes shut, minds shredded with heavy thoughts — their silence feels less like a pause than a surrender. When Ian finally speaks, it’s raw, stripped bare. I’m not who you think I am. I came to you that first night wanting nothing more than a one-night stand. Nothing less. A confession, yes, but also a plea. But Ian also accepts that things between them just go with the flow, and the distance between them seems to be shortened overtime. He tells Jo that he can be open like this because he is getting more and more comfortable with Jo around, and it’s best for Jo not to involved with someone who comes from a different world. It’s a warning cloaked in self-loathing. The walls he’s built, cold and impenetrable, now tremble under Jo’s quiet persistence. Because here’s the paradox of Ian: he mirrors warmth only when it’s given first, like a shadow tentative in sunlight.

Jo admits he doesn’t feel the same ease around Ian. He’s perpetually on edge — palms damp, heart racing so wildly he worries Ian might hear it. Jo is always open, and stays true to himself. This time, he should have taken all of his courage to reveals to Ian what he’s feeling for him. e insists it’s unfair, this imbalance: his anxiety clawing at him while Ian remains so effortlessly calm. It feels almost selfish, he admits, to resent Ian’s comfort, to wish it mirrored his own turmoil. Yet here, now, Jo turns to face Ian, looks at him so deep in the eyes. A heavy silence hangs between them, suspended, until Jo leans in — and presses a tentative kiss to Ian’s lips.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapters 16 + 17

Jo’s series of wildest dreams persist, this time sharper and more intense than ever, consumed by fantasies of Ian in a lustful light. His mind replays every detail: Ian’s eyes, the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips under the starlit sky—all flooding Jo’s thoughts when he is… jerking off. The memories linger: the warmth of resting his head on Ian’s shoulder, the way Ian looked at him and asked “Did you sleep well?” - until he got there - the climax, leaving Jo jolted awake at 8:32 AM. Guilt crashes over him. He slaps his own cheek, chastising himself for these dark thoughts and these countless nights of indecent dreams. How could he ever face Ian again? Jo’s turmoil is understandable. This might be the first time he’s felt something deeper than friendship toward another guy, and he can’t deny the dual pull - romantic and sexual. Around Ian, as a nice guy in nature, he clings to the role of a platonic companion, burying his desires. But in dreams, there’s no pretense. His subconscious runs wild, blurring lines which he’s too “proper” to cross in daylight. For now, Jo wrestles with this chaotic mix of shame and exhilaration, all tangled up in the handsome neighbor who unknowingly haunts his nights.

The story rewinds to when Ian, TJ, and Jamie first crossed paths with Jason when they were 18. Back then, TJ was an amateur boxer - underage but already brawling in underground matches, notorious for flooring Russian fighters in the ring’s harsh glare. Even Jamie, and Jason’s then-boss David Kim (a golfer with a veneer of respectability), couldn’t ignore how jarringly pretty Ian looked—too striking for the shadowy world he was stepping into. Jason saw TJ’s raw talent early; within weeks, the kid’s fights spiked the stakes twentyfold. But David’s attention fixated solely on Ian. The way he lingered a touch on Ian’s arm, how he asked only his name that first meeting—it reeked of something predatory. Jason’s instincts prickled. He’d heard rumors of David “mishandling” a younger recruit not long before. Whatever game they’d stumbled into, he sensed the stakes were darker than any boxing ring.

Ian visits Jason on his sickbed. Jason’s health is deteriorating rapidly - he knows death looms - yet his dry humor persists, though now edged with a grimace that dulls the punchlines. The man told Ian to come to see Suji to get back all the money Ian paid off to him but not yet. “Consider it your punishment,” he rasps. Ian refuses anyway. What struck me was Jason’s vivid recollection of an incident from eleven years prior: Ian’s surgery after shattering his leg in a fall. But the real revelation was darker—Jason had known then that TJ, Ian’s sworn brother or whatever he was., orchestrated the “accident” to sabotage Ian’s motorcycle tournament in Malibu, California. My God—TJ would rather cripple Ian than risk losing him. O-M-G, could TJ do anything else for Ian than just hurt him, physically and emotionally, in secret? Was this twisted compulsion even worthy of being called love? ?? Jason himself spat the word bastard, stunned that TJ had crossed this line. He predicted the betrayal would fracture their bond, if only slightly—yet it never did.

Ian had known the truth all along, yet silenced TJ’s confession. He clung to the fiction of an accident, terrified that acknowledging TJ’s cruelty would destroy their relationship completely. “I guess it’s karma,” Ian later sighed, “my weight to bear.” As I’ve often noted in my analyses, Ian now sees TJ as karmic penance—a burden he’s condemned to carry. Worse, he shoulders blame for every tragedy, convinced he’s the catalyst. Oh, Ian. You’re too kind. Even an outsider can see your bond with TJ should’ve shattered after that vile act. You loved too fiercely, forgave too readily. You lacked the courage to confront TJ about how he obliterated your life’s dream, instead internalizing the blame. But you deserve happiness, Ian. Let it come through Jo. Your sacrifices will be repaid—not by TJ’s hollow remorse, but by Jo’s steadfast heart.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 15

Jo asks Ian if he can take a few photos of him. A long silence settles between them on the quiet rooftop, the kind of stillness that feels heavy enough to freeze time itself. Jo waits, anxious for a response - maybe even bracing for rejection - while Ian’s expression remains unreadable, cool and detached. Finally, Ian deflects with a quiet, “Maybe next time. Where should we sit for stargazing?” Jo’s disappointment lingers; he knows this moment was meant for connection, not a camera.

As expected, the city lights drown out the stars, leaving the sky washed in haze. But Ian insists it’s fine, unpacking a bag full of snacks Jo ’d brought, a gesture Ian recognizes as intentional: they’d both silently longed for this stargazing. The night deepens, the cold sharpening, and when Jo shivers, Ian murmurs, “Then get closer,” in that textbook K-drama tone (guilty as charged: I’m a sucker for those clichés). Flushing, Jo inches toward him, hyperaware of the unfamiliar warmth between them, the first flicker of something he’s never felt with another guy.

Ian points to a bright star in Orion’s constellation, visible in winter’s chill, and Jo recounts its myth - a tale of betrayal, love, and tragedy. You know the ones: Artemis, Orion, Apollo. A story that feels like foreshadowing. I worry our Wet Sand version of the Orion myth might follow that path: Apollo’s tricks, Artemis’ arrow, a lover’s irreversible mistake. Let them part ways if they must, but please spare the bloodshed. Tragedy’s already enough anyway.

The conversation takes a sharp turn when Ian, curiosity piqued, asks how Jo knows so much about Orion’s myth. “Heard it from someone,” Jo shrugs. Ian cuts in instantly—“An ex?”—his tone casual but edged with something sharper. (Someone’s nervous his crush might’ve learned a romantic tragedy from a past flame, huh?) Bold move, Ian—asking about exes on a second date.

Jo doesn’t flinch. “5 years,” he admits when Ian prods, and the number hangs in the air like a challenge. Five years. Long enough to make Ian’s smile falter for half a breath. “Once I start dating someone, I usually commit for a long time.” Jo adds, softer now. “ Now we’re just friends.” It has been a long day for Jo, his beloved car was stolen, and then his ex. Between the SUV and this confession, it paints a clear portrait: Jo loves deeply, and his love lasts.

The question boomerangs back. “What about you?” Jo asks, and Ian’s answer is too light, too practiced: “Never had one.” 19 years of something with TJ, but none of it fit the word lover. Not really. Not enough. Ian’s definition of love demands more than stolen moments and half-spoken promises. Jo reads the evasion anyway. “What about… someone you liked… or someone you loved?” he ventures, treading carefully. The silence stretches, thin and brittle, before Ian exhales: “Yeah. There was someone.” And just like that, Ian’s mind flickers - a flash of TJ’s face, cigarettes under a different sky, all the almost that never quite caught fire. But tonight, under Orion’s watchful gaze, those memories feel like ghosts. Dangerous ones.

The truth is, Ian had been plotting his exit from the gang long before the bloodshed, a plan he’d confessed to TJ one night. He got enough saved, and he knew it was time to do something… clean.  But TJ? TJ laughed. “No way I’m quitting now”. He was just getting started. Ambition had always burned hotter in TJ. He craved Jason’s throne, his power, the way money pooled like a river at his feet. He thought the money would multiply. And just like that, the divide crystallized. Their paths, once tangled, now diverged irreversibly. Yet TJ wielded loyalty like a blade. Stay, he’d insist, not with pleas but demands, as if Ian’s purpose existed solely to prop up his climb. For years, Ian bent to it, swallowing his own hunger for freedom beneath the weight of I need you. Sacrifice became habit, to him love is a language spoken only in surrender. But even devotion has its limits. Chains, no matter how gilded, grow heavier with time. Ian had yet to admit it aloud, but the truth coiled in his chest: clinging to someone who anchors you to a life you despise isn’t love—it’s slow suffocation.

But Ian admits they’re just friends now - a confession that surprises even him, and he wonders how he tells Jo about it all. Jo doesn’t flinch. “The night sky will do that to you,” he murmurs, as if constellations hold a magic that loosens tongues and softens walls. Jo mentions that they might miss the meteor shower they’d both waited for, he quietly admits he’s glad a chance to know Ian better. It’s Jo’s honesty that undoes Ian, the way he says what he feels without hiding anything, which makes Ian’s chest tighten.

A curious night, indeed. Their second date under the starry sky becomes a quiet time for sharing secrets and lets themselves to be vulnerable. Stories spill like spilled wine: past loves, half-healed scars, the kind of truths that flicker in the dark. Hours blur. Empty beer cans litter the ground, and Jo, exhausted by the weight of the day (or perhaps the weight of alcohol), leans against Ian’s shoulder.

The K-drama trope writes itself: one person asleep on the other’s shoulder under a beautiful night sky. Ian stares down, struck suddenly by the delicacy of Jo’s features - his long eyelashes, the small beauty mark under his lip, a face softened by sleep. His heart skips a beat. When he looks up, he does so just as a shooting star streaks across the sky. On impulse, he reaches for Jo’s hand to wake him, but Jo remains deep in his sleep, his hands now curled loosely around Ian’s arm. Ian realizes he forgot made a wish. Yet whenever I remember them like this: Jo’s head resting on Ian’s shoulder, the quiet intimacy of that moment—it feels as though the shooting star didn’t slip past unnoticed. Instead, it lingers like a silent promise, stitching their unspoken wishes into the fabric of the night.

This post is so long, because this chapter is all about the small moments between Jo and Ian that I really enjoy, and I can’t stop writing about it. My love languages are quality time and act of services, and this chapter reflects what I really want to see in love, when you are true to yourself while you’re close to someone, when you don’t mind showing your vulnerabilities to someone, like in the spring the first green shoots of love pushing through frost after a long winter. No grand gestures, just the warmth of a shoulder, the weight of a head, and the silent understanding that vulnerability is its own language.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 14

A flashback drenched in shadows opens Chapter 14. TJ negotiated with attorneys over Ian’s murder charge - a crime so ruthlessly precise that even he couldn’t spin it as self-defense. He pushed for a two-year prison sentence, coldly pragmatic. But the real tragedy here? Ian’s hollow aftermath. He kept asking himself if there was something he should feel - guilt, remorse, anything. But there was nothing. Just… numbness. He knew cold-blooded violence wasn’t right, wasn’t human. Yet Ian - oh, Ian - when suffering cracks a person’s soul, sometimes all that’s left is emptiness.

The scene shifts: Ian kneeled before Jason and TJ, still wearing that bloodstained white tee, pleading that he couldn’t do it anymore. Let me go. Even Jason, with his usual steel, admitted Ian’s heart was never in this work—he’d been a square peg in a bloody round hole from the start. Jason was ready to cut him loose, but TJ? TJ didn’t want to. He needed Ian anchored to the gang, to him. Then there’s the prison sentence. Was it truly the lightest sentence possible… or was TJ scheming to trap him? Jason’s furrowed brows and clipped silence speak skepticism. Reading between the lines: that two-year stint? A calculated play. Ian’s stacking debts: protection fees, compound interest - until Ian’s drowning in obligations even Jason calls suicidal. “He’ll kill himself trying to pay it back.”

So answer me, TJ: Is this how you prove love - by chaining someone to you with debt and guilt? Crushing their freedom under “protection” and moral duty? If you’re so confident he’d choose you, why the desperation? Why the Machiavellian strings? You’re such a monster, TJ. 

TJ lingers over the photo Jo took of him during their fleeting balcony encounter - but wait. How did a shot from Jo’s phone end up in his possession? The answer comes with implication, especially since TJ’s quietly hoarded a photo of Jo in return. Does he sense the low-key connection pulling Jo and Ian together? He knows Ian’s track record of casual flings for sure, yet it’s Jo who catches his attention. Even Yangji admires Jo’s handsome looks, that he takes a picture of Jo on his phone, which, as revealed in next chapter, cast a shadow on Jo and his resentment to TJ. 

The unspoken truth? TJ isn’t just watching. He’s curating. Every glance, every stolen image, a thread in the web he’s spinning. And when that photo resurfaces in the next chapter, it won’t just cast a shadow, it’ll ignite the war.

Jo’s meticulously planned stargazing trip collapses sadly when his beloved white SUV - the college-era clunker he’s clung to for five loyal years at least - gets stolen in broad daylight outside the camera shop. (Wait, is this New York or San Francisco? Since when do daylight car heists happen in New York?). ‘Cuz he is so upset, he vents to Ian, mourning the loss like it’s crybaby ((Jo’s deer mode materializes at this), while Ian bites back a smirk. Let’s be real: the car’s a rustbucket. But that’s the point. Jo doesn’t love things; he loves stories. Sentimental to a fault. That could hint something about Jo’s personality: he’s loyal to his beloved. The car must be so special to him, that when he is able to get a new one, it is still the same car.

Ian managed to make them a spot to do stargazing by dragging them to the rooftop of some crumbling building. He also prepared for the night so he can’t miss it again to have some privacy with Jo. Just the two of them. Just enough beer to blur the line between “friends” and… well, you know what I mean. When Ian suggested this is also a good place to have a beer, Jo is looking at him, and his heart starts to race, and you know this initiates the feeling of love in him. Probably the moment he knows he’s fallen for someone. 

“Should I take some photos of you?” Jo blurts, face burning. I want to remember this. I want to remember you when you’re here with me.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapters 12 + 13

The idea of leaving haunts Ian. He’s haunted by the need to settle his debts with Jason and walk away. Time and time again, he tells Jo, and himself, that he’s going to leave. He believes that distancing himself from TJ for 3 or 4 years would allow TJ to forget him, a sacrifice he’s convinced would be best for them both.

I can’t stop wondering what Ian truly feels for TJ at this point in their long, tangled history. Whenever TJ reappears, Ian seems to retreat into memories of who they once were - yet now he’s resolved to cut ties for years, telling himself it’s the only way to protect them both. Does he love TJ so deeply that he sees separation as the only path forward, knowing they have no future together? Does he believe leaving could be an act of love: a way to preserve what’s left of their bond before it fractures entirely? Or has TJ become someone unrecognizable, frozen in Ian’s mind as a relic of the past rather than the living, changing person before him? Maybe Ian simply needs to shed the weight of their shared history to move forward. Or perhaps what binds them isn’t love at all, but something darker: obsession, codependency, a twisted sense of redemption.

The questions multiply, but answers remain elusive. Love is so nuanced, and sometimes you can’t tell between black and white with love. All I know for certain is that Ian is determined to leave TJ, and the thought consumes him.

TJ showed up at Ian’s apartment again, the same place he’d once dismissed as a “mess.” True to form, he complained about the broken sensor light, griping about it over and over again. “You never listen, do you?” he snapped when Ian ignored his demand to fix it. How manipulative. If TJ cares so much about Ian’s home, why not buy a light and install it himself? Instead, he drops by for a quick shag, masking his indifference in petty critiques. Every hookup comes with a new complaint—as if nitpicking is his favorite.

Their relationship has always been open, totally non-committed. TJ’s stance is clear: I’ll sleep with anyone, but you’ll always be my fallback. “Go ahead, f*ck others,” he implies, “but you’d better think of me when you come.” It’s more than dirty talk during s*x, it reveals TJ’s true nature. His words carve ownership without responsibility. “I tell you to fix the light, but you don’t listen.” “You’re mine, even if I refuse to tend to you”. Is Ian your property, TJ? Like a flower you claim as yours but can’t be bothered to water. It’ll wither anyway.

Jo’s aunt recovers, and the doctor clears her to return to work, meaning Jo no longer needs to help at her restaurant. But despite having planned a trip to Australia, Jo insists on staying to support her anyway. He even ends up not buying his ticket - a decision that surprises his aunt. She teases him, wondering if there’s “some girl” nearby who’s caught his eye. But we all know the truth. Everyone knows. Like how he keeps glancing out the window, waiting to see if the guy across the street has come home. Or he still thinks about that stargazing trip the two of them promised to take together.

So Ian’s been gone from the gang for nearly a year now, and TJ’s patience is wearing thin: he’s desperate to drag Ian back into the fold. But little di you know, TJ: while you’re obsessing over his return, Ian’s secretly planning to leave you behind for good. 3 or 4 years, at least. Do you even realize it, TJ?

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapters 10 + 11

Ian is in debt and has been secretly paying it off to Jason in cash, nearly settling the full amount. What’s puzzling is how he’s managed this, given his current job as a welder - a role Mr. Lim pointed out in Chapter 1 pays poorly, especially since Ian is still unlicensed and learning. This raises another question: If TJ loves him as a partner or family, why hasn’t TJ helped alleviate this debt? With his wealth and influence, TJ could easily resolve it. Is he intentionally letting Ian struggle alone to prolong their time together, ensuring Ian stays bound to him?

Equally striking is the harshness of Ian’s deal with Jason. The agreement includes a two-year protection with interest, a hefty sum Jason assumed would trap Ian in the gang indefinitely. Yet Ian persevered - no begging, no surrender - proving his resolve to leave the underworld for good. Even the debt collector noted Ian’s newfound calm, signaling he’s content with his choice. His relentless effort to break free, despite the odds, underscores a deliberate path toward redemption and healing.

Ian finds himself thinking of Jo, too. A flashback of Jo’s face flickers into his mind, stirring a quiet longing—the affection is mutual, he realizes he starts to miss Jo. He imagines stargazing with him, curious what draws Jo to the night sky. He’s growing awareness that he is developing something about Jo, yet Jo’s passions unsettle him in ways he can’t quite name. Now he’s torn: Is he ready to step beyond the confines of his current life to take a step closer to Jo? Can he carve out a place in Jo’s universe, which is so different from his own? His Google search for “meteor shower” hints at a desire to understand, to glimpse the beauty Jo sees overhead. And when he learns this shower is the largest in 20 years, doubt dissolves. Why not try? he decides. It’s more than a chance to connect with Jo; it’s an invitation to rediscover himself.

Jo is determined to find Chris and bring him home, no matter the cost. Despite repeated warnings from the resident of a dangerous neighborhood where he believes Chris is hiding - who insists Chris isn’t there - Jo returns relentlessly. Just as tensions escalate and a man nearly pulls a gun on him, Chris appears, stepping in to defuse the situation. But things get even more complicated - the green-jacket guy, the same one Chris tipped off about Ian and Jo’s closeness, is also present. Earlier in the previous chapter, Jamie Lee had informed this man of plans to “test” Chris, and Jo’s actions now confirm the test’s success. It’s clear that Jo genuinely cares about Chris and is willing to go to great lengths to protect him. If Jo and Ian’s relationship solidifies, Jamie could exploit Jo to manipulate Ian.

Chapter 11 underscores how far Jo will stray from his usual calm demeanor for family. This isn’t something you’d expect from someone as level-headed and kind as Jo. Even Chris is stunned by Jo’s recklessness, questioning if he’s “mad” for venturing into such a volatile area. Jo’s intensity peaks when he slams the car to a halt, demanding Chris apologize to his mother - a moment so abrupt it leaves Chris shaken. Jo’s fierce determination when it comes to family and the people he cares about reveals a side of him that goes far beyond being just a nice guy. This moment foreshadows Jo’s rebellion in Wet Sand Season 3, where he’ll stop at nothing to shield his loved ones. 

So no, Jo isn’t just a “nice guy” or a bland character He can be as soft as he wants, but when necessary, he knows how to be tough - and this complexity makes him anything but boring.

Jamie and TJ are clearly at odds. According to Doyak’s organizational chart, Jamie holds the same rank as TJ but operates in a different branch of K35. Given what he knows about TJ and Ian, it’s only a matter of time before he pieces together Ian and Jo’s relationship. And when he does, he could very well be the spark that sets off the apocalypse in the endgame.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on reading Chapter 9

Chris comes across as a total jerk. He has buried his life deep into gambling addiction and has no issue colluding with gang members for cash. In Chapter 5, after spotting Jo with Ian, he meddles by tipping off his gang contacts about their meeting. It’s shocking how he actively drags his own cousin, Jo, into danger rather than shielding him. When this news reaches Jamie Lee, he’s stunned to learn Ian might be forming a bond with someone outside of TJ. Ian, meanwhile, works as a welder. His boss notices he consistently skips barbecue nights with coworkers, reinforcing his reputation as a loner who clocks in, does his job, and avoids socializing. Still, there’s a softer side to him—kindness seems to unlock his better nature. After growing frustrated with TV reports about gang activity and overhearing coworkers’ chatter, he abruptly walks out without explanation. Yet when his boss offers him leftover food and support for his upcoming certification exam, Ian’s heartfelt thanks reveal a glimmer of warmth beneath his reserved exterior. This chapter peels back another layer of Ian’s complexity, showing how his guardedness coexists with an ability to acknowledge genuine kindness when it’s offered.

Jo spotted Ian on the stairs and walked over, commenting on how late he’d gotten home that day. The observation hints that Jo must’ve been glancing out the window regularly to notice Ian’s routine. This marked the first time Jo had ever gone out of his way to go see Ian. He was genuinely taken aback to learn Ian had never tried stargazing, night fishing, or camping - so much so that he invited Ian to join him. “It’d be pretty dull watching the meteor shower alone,” Jo admitted, adding with a hopeful smile, “Promise me you’ll come?”

What stands out here is how openly Jo acknowledges his own lack of close friendships - a mirror of Ian’s solitary life. Both seem trapped in isolated routines, their worlds revolving around work with little room for companionship. This shared solitude is likely why they gravitated toward each other. Their story begins tentatively: two neighbors who barely knew one another. To Jo, Ian was the quiet guy next door - someone he’d once awkwardly photographed without permission, and who now surprised him by initiating their first outing. To Ian, Jo was the handsome and athletic fit neighbor he’d regretted not having the one night stand with. Jo’s hobbies: photography, monthly countryside trips, night fishing - felt entirely foreign to Ian, yet interesting. That very unfamiliarity made Jo stand out in Ian’s eyes, sparking a curiosity that felt almost magnetic.

Then TJ appeared, watching from a parked car. He caught sight of Ian and Jo talking and stormed off. He’d probably come to see Ian, maybe even hook up, but the moment he spotted them together, he drove off away without a word. It’s easy to imagine him walking away with a simmering resentment, already starting to see Jo as nothing but trouble.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections Chapter 8

Ian grew up never being loved in the proper way, never knowing the security of a true family. His traumatic upbringing left him adrift: his father was unknown, his mother was an addict, and most of her short-termed boyfriends often abuse him. The final image Ian clung to of his mother was far from tender—a haunting image that speaks volumes about the trauma etched into his life. It’s heartbreaking to imagine a childhood steeped in such pain, like scars that likely run deep and shadows of the past may linger indefinitely. Drugs became his temporary refuge, a fleeting escape from the weight of his past, but they offered no real solution. He might not have a clear definition of “happiness” and a “meaningful life” might feel alien to him. His sense of self-worth buried beneath layers of hardship. He must have healthier path forward—one that begins with leaving the gang behind. Without breaking free, the cycle of trauma will persist, leaving his heart forever unhealed.

Ian always finds himself trapped in memories of his past whenever he is with TJ (a pattern he also acknowledges in Chapter 2). He could vividly remember the devastating moment he learned of his mother’s death—a news he numbed with drugs, fearing he’d meet the same fate. It was TJ who anchored him during that crisis, comforted him and made him to seek rehab. Back then, TJ was a different person: kinder, steadier, a stark contrast to the man he’s become.

What’s striking is that after 19 years together, Ian now call TJ a “weirdo”—a label that stings TJ deeply: “After all this time, that’s all I am to you?” Ian reflects that TJ once had a warmth and charm that had faded ever since, now replaced by the cold allure of power and wealth from his rise in the gang. It’s a familiar tragedy: ambition and status warping a person until they’re unrecognizable, even to those they once loved.

This chapter paints a poignant portrait of Ian’s life: a traumatic past, a lifetime of conditional love, survival-driven codependency, and of which go hand in hand with that 19-year bond with TJ—his only semblance of family—now fraying under the weight of time.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 7

Ian usually doesn’t make the first move unless he’s sure someone likes him. But Jo “the kid” breaks this rule. Through Ian’s lens, Jo isn’t just good-looking—he’s Ian’s type in every way. That’s why Ian, against his usual habits, straight-up hints Jo for a hookup. But Jo is a family guy. He says no to go help his aunt, which pissed Ian off somehow. Ian even jokes to himself, “Were you drunk?” to hide his embarrassment. He wonders if Jo is playing innocent or just isn’t into guys, but when they lock eyes, Ian feels there’s something there. Jo’s rejection actually works in his favor. If they’d hooked up that night, Ian might’ve lost interest. Now, Ian’s curious enough to want a second date. It’s like that old advice: “Don’t sleep together on the first date if you want more.”

Jo was so thoughtful, debating whether to text Ian back once he got home. You know, “Text me when you get home” has to be one of the sweetest things ever. But when he clarified to Mia that their outing wasn’t a date, it’s clear he hadn’t quite defined whatever new feelings were brewing between him and Ian. Maybe being with a guy felt unfamiliar to him at that point. I mean, dressing up and wearing cologne for a guy? That’s a whole new territory. Plus, Jo proved himself a husband material in this chapter. Let’s recap: he’s handsome (broad shoulders, visible abs—no big deal), kind-hearted, caring, passionate about photography and the outdoors, happy to help at the family restaurant, unbothered about restarting college at 27, and mature enough to turn down a hookup to prioritize family. Practically perfect. If there’s one flaw, it’s how deeply and sincerely he loves—which, ironically, might become his greatest vulnerability. That intensity could easily spiral into internal struggles down the line.

Ugh, TJ actually called Ian to a hotel for a hookup—with Yang Ji and Jiwoon standing guard outside (seriously?!). TJ just keeps hitting new lows. Treating Ian like some prostitute? I’m furious, and honestly, I take this personally. Every. Time. Nineteen years of this?! Sneaking around in secret like TJ’s some married man having an affair? Pathetic. But what really gets me this chapter? TJ sent stalkers to track Ian’s every move. He knew Ian had just been on a date, knew he was drunk this time (side note: Ian hadn’t been drunk in ages—this time was over Jo!), and still treated him like a sex toy with a full security detail. Classic toxic masculinity move. And let’s be real—Ian’s probably aware TJ’s been with women, too. So what even is their relationship? Some twisted, no-label arrangement? Just pure destruction with zero future?

Here’s the thing: If Ian ends up with TJ, these shady meetups aren’t going anywhere. TJ’s literally positioning himself to take over Jason’s role in the gang. Can you picture him proudly holding Ian’s hand in front of the other Asian ally gangs, declaring, “This is my man”? Please. And TJ giving up his gang life for Ian? Yeah, not happening. This isn’t a love story—it’s a dead-end trap.

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 5

TJ has proven entirely capable of manipulating others without resorting to violence. By discovering Detective Harry Hunter’s daughter’s critical medical condition, TJ effortlessly bribed him, creating a win-win scenario. Exploiting someone’s Achilles’ heel remains a deceptively simple yet effective strategy. So, what leverage could TJ wield against Ian and Jo in Season 3? For Ian: Jo and Jo’s family—including Chris’s pregnant girlfriend—whom Ian vowed to protect at all costs. For Jo: Ian and his own family. Given Jo’s unwavering loyalty to his loved ones, he’d likely prioritize their safety above all else, even his aunt’s family. TJ’s playbook here seems clear: weaponize the bonds they’d never dare break.

Family means everything to Jo, so while he’s typically gentle and level-headed, that composure could crack when it comes to Chris. As the black sheep of Jo’s aunt’s family, Chris likely feels like a burden Jo reluctantly shoulders out of duty. The unanswered calls and Chris’s failure to come home clearly rattled Jo—enough that spotting Chris alone at the restaurant on Sunday nearly pushed him over the edge. Only Ian’s intervention prevented Jo from confronting him, defusing the tense standoff. This incident gave Ian a glimpse into the depths of Jo’s protective instincts and the values driving him.

Ian: “Do you want me to catch him?” Wait, hold on—Ian, were you low-key annoyed that Jo got distracted by Chris during your meticulously planned first date? Or are you just that ride-or-die for Jo? (Hmm, calling it like I see it!)

Jo: “I’m early, you’re early, too.” Then he drops this bombshell line: “I didn’t want us to miss each other.” OMG—my heart SKIPPED A BEAT! That’s textbook flirting, right? No wonder Jo cracked a smile. Though I’m curious: Does the Korean word for “miss” have the same dual meaning (like “fail to see” vs. “long for”) as in English? Either way, that line hit different.

And can we talk about their date-night fits? Ian’s Converse Chucks paired perfectly with Jo’s Vans Old Skools—chef’s kiss.

[ryanlandi]

He said, "Let's get out of this town Drive out of the city, away from the crowds" I thought Heaven can't help me now Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down

[ryanlandi]

Reflections on Chapter 4

Ian was once a high-profile figure in the gang—so why was he suddenly reduced to something as trivial as dropping off drugs at a club? The question gnawed at me, and even Mr. Lim raised an eyebrow at the absurdity. But the truth? TJ orchestrated it all. The tragedy is, Ian still believed Jason had assigned the task, shackling himself to guilt and obligation. In reality, TJ had quietly asked Mr. Lim to seek Ian out, ensuring he’d stay entangled with the gang. You could tell Mr. Lim sensed something off about TJ and Ian’s dynamic. They’d been sworn brothers once, but that bond had frayed. His sympathy for Ian was palpable; he knew TJ’s true colors.

And TJ? A master manipulator. He knew Ian wanted out, so he schemed in the shadows to trap him. Why not just beg, “Don’t leave—stay with me”? I understand thatTJ had to be ruthless to survive the underworld. But did that monster have to turn its claws on Ian? This was his sworn brother, his only family, his partner—maybe even his lover. Yet TJ chose coercion over loyalty, twisting their history into a chain Ian couldn’t break.

The bright side of this chapter? Rewinding to when Ian wore two earrings and dressed just like TJ. Back then, he still had a soft side—like how he looked after little Jimmy while the gang handled business with the kid’s dad. He even knew the best spot in town for hot chocolate loaded with giant marshmallows. You could tell he had a good heart buried under all that tough stuff. Maybe because he’d been a messed-up kid himself, he understood how to treat a scared boy right. That version of Ian is he one who tried to shield Jimmy from the chaos. That was the real him, before life hardened whatever was left of the guy who used to care.

Every time Ian reflected on the past, Jo would pop up. Same old routine as chapter 2’s ending—Jo always appeared exactly at that moment to yank him out of his head and back to reality. Then, Ian decided to act. Earlier in chapter 3, he’d swung by the restaurant just to say hi to Jo. This time, though, he straight-up asked him out after checking Jo’s schedule. Let’s face it: Ian was so attracted to Jo and wanted to know the“boy next door” more. 

Now, that balcony at Ian’s place? To me, it’s basically the heart of their relationship. That’s where everything started, where they kept bumping into each other, and where things started to brew between them. Total Romeo and Juliet.