In 2021, the Japanese live-action BL, My Beautiful Man, adapted from the novel Utsukushii Kare by Yu Nagira, dropped onto the scene, stirring hearts and igniting a bevy of discussions about insecurity and toxic relationships.

A story about a quiet, stuttering boy named Hira Kazunari (Hagiwara Riku) who falls instantly in love with popular but cold Kiyoi Sou (Yusei Yagi), My Beautiful Man delivered an awkward and relatable story that left a deep impression but also made it easy to point fingers at each of the leads, with many viewers defending their favorites.

The second season is no different.

Starting where the first season left off, My Beautiful Man 2 instantly delves into the lives Hira and Kiyoi are trying to build together. Kiyoi attempts to further his dreams of being an actor, while Hira still struggles to find where he fits in.

And therein lies their problem.

My Beautiful Man is, in essence, a story about lacking self-confidence with two polar opposite men fighting different types of insecurity.

Each season vividly focuses on a different POV, with season one offering a more in-depth look at Hira’s thoughts on Kiyoi while season two delves into a much more mature Kiyoi’s thoughts about Hira.

It’s a beautiful way to tell a story, allowing viewers to grow with each character as they find themselves, even as toxic as they often feel. The toxicity isn’t in their relationship with each other as much as it js in their relationship with themselves.

In season one, Kiyoi spent most of the drama speaking to himself through how he treated Hira and others, using words like ‘gross’ and ‘disgusting’ to refer as much to himself and the world as Hira. He felt like a prince stuck inside a tower, a beautiful man too elevated by those around him to truly feel like part of the world he existed in, even as much as he craved attention. People often push away things they fear, especially if they see themselves in that fear. Kiyoi was just as drawn to Hira as Hira was to him, but he feared it.

Then he accepted it. But it was a hard road to get there.

While Hira battles that part of himself that feels undeserving and less than in both seasons, Kiyoi finds it hard to trust others and be honest with himself. Hira deals with this by being meek and easily controlled, while Kiyoi was/is dominantly controlling.

And yet, they make each other stronger. Not because they’re good at making each other feel better, but because both felt invisible except to each other. They give each other visibility.

In season one, viewers spent much of the drama wondering why Hira didn’t stand up for himself and question Kiyoi’s intentions, but then the subtleties that make their connection so strong started to be unveiled. Kiyoi hid behind his ‘disgusting’ and ‘gross’ shields, using the words to push away a world that only used him for his appearance or forgot about him like his family did. Hira became the place where Kiyoi could let go of those words, but at what expense?

It’s often hard to express feelings and emotions in words when putting up a wall has been the only way to shield oneself for years. In season one, Kiyoi and Hira had walls that protected them from the outside world but also kept them from getting genuinely close to each other. Kiyoi didn’t want to be Hira’s god. He didn’t want to be unreachable.

And yet he still craved Hira’s devotion to him.

By the end of season one, the words ‘disgusting’ and ‘gross’ go from being words that push people away to a term of endearment. This change shows that fear, as scary as that word is, can be defeated and turned into something beautiful.

Kiyoi let down his walls.

But did Hira?

Season two delves less into Kiyoi’s weaknesses and more into the wall around Hira that has yet to be broken. Where Kiyoi’s shields are his attitude and words, Hira’s shield is his camera.

It’s easy to hide how you feel about the world in person. It’s more challenging to hide it in art. Hira’s pictures capture the world as he sees it, a contemptuous place to live where the only beauty that exists is Kiyoi. He wants to be on the same level as the man he loves, but his insecurities and how he feels about the world hold him back. It’s hard to move forward when you feel like part of the problem with the world is you.

Hira feels like a problem, and it doesn’t help when he continuously faces failure after failure in the second season, first losing out on a photography contest and then a part-time job. At the same time, Kiyoi continues to rise in the entertainment world.

Insecurity is a dark beast that’s difficult to slay. Each person who deals with it is different. The only way to slay a demon is to find out what gives that demon control over you. Kiyoi finds the key to his insecurity by realizing he craves Hira’s devotion and the attention he gets when being on camera, but he also desires feeling equal to Hira when off the stage.

Kiyoi needs attention, but he also needs equal love, his insecurities having been borne from two different things, feeling abandoned by his family and feeling untouchable because of his appearance. He craves the attention he didn’t get from his family while also craving the equality he didn’t get from his peers, and that’s a tricky balance to find.

He thought he’d found that in Hira and acting. But he didn’t expect the depth of Hira’s insecurities.

Feeling undeserving and invisible is hard to break free of. Attention is scary. The world is cruel. Beauty is hard to find.

Hira finds beauty in Kiyoi but never quite finds the self-acceptance he must embrace to see beyond his camera lens. He remains separated from the world.

There’s a lot of symbolism in both seasons of My Beautiful Man, each symbolic reference a look at Kiyoi and Hira’s relationship and journey. From the rubber ducks to the ‘gross’ and ‘disgusting’ to the camera Hira holds, each gives a different look at who they are. Hira and Kiyoi’s love is a lot like the photographs Hira takes. Pictures remind us of the past, feelings, people, and places, but we’re still detached from those moments, separated from them, wishing they were tangible and touchable 𝒏𝒐𝒘. Hira lives behind the pictures while placing Kiyoi inside of them.

But they are also like the rubber ducks lost in a drain, two swimmers afraid of swimming alone that crashed into each other and then landed on shore, dazed and confused but happy. Yet also afraid of weighing each other down while still fearing swimming alone.

It’s a delicate balance. One that will never be easy. Stepping into a relationship where both people need extensive growth sometimes means growing apart to grow together. There are times Hira and Kiyoi step away from each other, but they always return.

By the end of season two, a photographer gives Hira a look into who he is through the pictures he takes, and it’s a step toward crumbling his walls. Sometimes it’s the people we love that helps us find our way. But sometimes it takes someone from the outside, a phot to help us see the bigger picture rather than depending on the people we’re too close to, to save us.

Each season shows a wall crumbling, first Kiyoi’s and then Hira’s. It has me excited about what the movie will bring. Will it take them forward or give them new obstacles that knock them backward?

Life is often about taking one step forward and two steps back, so I expect Kiyoi and Hira’s story to be no different.

For a drama that follows up on a story about two men who fortified their hearts to keep people out in very different ways, only to watch those walls crumble when they found each other, check out My Beautiful Man 2 on Viki or Gagaoolala.

Rating- 4 out of 5