Recap Korean Drama "Seasons of Blossom (2022)" Episode 9-10

Before Bo-mi can respond to Jae-min’s question of whether she and Jin-young are actually dating, Jae-min admits he overheard them calling the relationship fake. Rather than wanting an explanation, however, he’s just letting her know she doesn’t have to carry her secret all alone. Likewise, she doesn’t press for answers about his secret, but makes it clear she wants to listen whenever he’s ready to share.

In the meantime, Jin-young and Bo-mi are getting closer, and though Bo-mi tries to stay in denial, she’s becoming aware that their relationship — real, fake, or otherwise — has changed ever so slightly. The first sign is when So-mang mentions learning to like mint chocolate because of the person she liked (Ha-min, of course). Bo-mi had been giving Jin-young chocolate milk without realizing he didn’t like chocolate, but now he says he doesn’t mind it so much, and her eyes bug out adorably as she puts two and two together.

Then Bo-mi and Jin-young are chosen to represent their class in a couple dance battle. That, of course, means they get up close and personal. Bo-mi starts out in the lead, but after she steps on his foot, he takes over, ending with a dip that leaves them both feeling shy.

The more Bo-mi tries to deny her growing feelings, the more frustrated and confused she gets. Eventually, after a little heart-to-heart with So-mang, she works up the courage to text Jin-young a casual, “What’s up?” Jin-young immediately calls her, but her mom calls her away before she can get brave enough to answer.

When she apologizes for it later, Jin-young shrugs it off — she needn’t explain if she doesn’t want to. But Bo-mi does want to, and suddenly she’s word-vomiting all about her mom yelling at her for her grades slipping, which happened because she’s been so busy worrying about her friends, and how disappointed she is in herself for not handling everything more gracefully.

Instead of adding to the criticism, Jin-young counters that he finds her impressive. Sure, at first, he thought she was crazy to make things so complicated for no reason, but now he understands and admires how much she cares about her friends’ feelings. It’s sweet that he’s supporting her when she feels low, but it still kind of glosses over the problem with her decision to lie to her friends.

Meanwhile, summer is approaching, and for So-mang, that means the emotions stirred up by memories of Ha-min are getting stronger. Ha-min used to hate summer because the humidity made him feel like he was suffocating. But the summer after they surreptitiously held hands on the rooftop, things changed. Instead of attending the lecture his parents wanted him to, Ha-min secretly signed up for lessons at So-mang’s art studio so they could spend more time together.

His first assignment was to draw anything he wanted, and for a long time he just stared sadly at the blank canvas in front of him. Then he created the most heartbreakingly beautiful picture of a man sitting hunched over and ankle-deep in water with gigantic butterfly wings.

One afternoon, So-mang and Ha-min were caught in a downpour while leaving the studio. Ha-min rolled his eyes in annoyance, but So-mang was struck with sudden giddiness. Tossing both of their umbrellas aside, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street at a run until he was smiling and laughing along with her.

They circled back to the studio to dry off, wrapping themselves in the only blanket. What with the rain and the happiness and the close contact, Ha-min was practically glowing as he thanked So-mang for teaching him the joy of doing what he wanted instead of what he was supposed to do.

So-mang found herself caressing his hair, and slowly, after checking that she was okay with it, he leaned in and kissed her. Then they kissed again and again, and giggled, and held hands, both shyly admitting this was their first kiss. In the present day, So-mang again drops her umbrella and lets the rain fall on her face, but the precious memories of that summer are as painful as they are wonderful now.

In the following days, So-mang couldn’t get the kiss out of her head. She couldn’t even be near Ha-min without getting shaky and fluttery, but he seemed so calm that she feared he might not share her feelings. But once Ha-min got the truth out of her, he assured her he was just uncertain how to navigate his own feelings. She’d opened his eyes to a whole new way of living, and he felt as though he could face anything if they were together.

While So-mang reminisces and Bo-mi puzzles over her feelings, Jae-min deliberates whether to grant his mother’s request to meet up. Ultimately, he does, but it’s more a confrontation than a reunion. He’s been reading Ha-min’s diary, he explains, and Ha-min wrote about someone named Han So-mang. Initially, Jae-min blamed So-mang for Ha-min’s death, but now he understands that So-mang was the one person who could have given Ha-min the hope he needed to keep going.

It’s not hard to guess where this is going, but it’s still gut-wrenching, especially interspersed with scenes of So-mang and Ha-min cuddling, blissfully unaware that Ha-min’s art studio enrollment had been discovered. Jae-min’s mother is overcome with horror and grief as she realizes what he’s saying. And Jae-min’s eyes fill with angry tears as he spells it out anyway: their mother personally destroyed Ha-min’s only support system.

Oof. These episodes felt like one gut punch after another. I thought Ha-min’s struggle to think of anything to draw was sad, until I saw what he came up with, and that hit even harder. And then So-mang gave him a reason to like both rain and summer. And then the kiss happened. And then — well, you get the idea.

On top of the expected pain of watching all the happy moments while knowing ahead of time how Ha-min’s story ends, I didn’t anticipate being struck so hard by that ending sequence with Ha-min and Jae-min’s mother. Ha-min knew she was wrong to treat them the way she did, and he knew she’d likely never realize until it was too late, but still he empathized with her motivations and hoped she might someday understand how blinded she’d been by grief over the loss of her own dreams. Perhaps he was right, but he’ll never know that, and no amount of remorse on her part can reverse the damage that was done.

Once again, I’m drawn to the parallels between Ha-min and Bo-mi. Even though their circumstances were very different, they both wrestled with external and internal expectations. They both needed — and found — someone to confide in outside of their usual circles, gaining at the same time the freedom to see themselves differently.

And that’s the tragedy of it all, because Ha-min presumably got only a small taste of that freedom before his future was cut short. Bo-mi, on the other hand, still has time to grow into full confidence in who she wants to become.