“My Only 12%” Series Review (Ep.3 to 14)

Every once in a while, a story I didn’t expect to fall in love with completely captures my heart.

Such is the case with the Thai BL My Only 12%, starring actors Santa Pongsapak and Earth Katsamonnat.

What begins as a typical friends-to-lovers trope about two life-long neighboring friends evolves into a powerful story about the pitfalls of becoming overly dependent on someone, separation anxiety, coming out, and death.

I cried. I hurt. I loved.

For a drama that opens with a lighthearted feel, My Only 12% quickly transforms into a story with a lot of heart and truth.

Seeiw (Earth) and Cake (Santa) are best friends with polar opposite personalities who wholly depend on each other for entirely different reasons. When the series opens, it’s evident that the socially awkward Seeiw clings to his relationship with Cake, using their friendship as an excuse not to put himself out there.

On the other hand, Cake’s relationship with Seeiw is about need. Cake likes feeling needed and becomes dependent on taking care of Seeiw.

This dependency is complicated by Seeiw’s sudden sexual awareness. While watching a classic BL film, Seeiw realizes his feelings for Cake are deeper than friendship, resulting in an emotional scene that delivers one of the most profound BL moments in television.

While coming out to his sister was beautiful and significant, Seeiw’s tears alone inside his bedroom were much more potent. Coming out to someone is momentous, but coming out to oneself is powerful. It’s a private moment in which a person faces a truth they may have always realized but never let themselves face. My Only 12% invites viewers into that intimate moment.

The power of Seeiw’s personal truth allows its audience a glimpse into the magnitude of realizing one’s sexuality.

But the drama doesn’t stop there.

In a heart-rending twist, Cake and Seeiw are separated when Cake’s father is sent abroad for work. For the first time in their lives, they are no longer next-door neighbors, and the relationship they’ve grown dependent on is tested.

In dramas, books, and films, we talk a lot about the need to communicate, but sometimes taking a step back from someone is a way to grow, make peace with ourselves, and make our own mistakes. It’s a chance to mature in the process.

It hurts. It heals.

During the separation, Seeiw learns to rely on himself. He stops hiding from the world and becomes a part of it. He makes new friends and learns to accept new changes in his life. So, when Cake returns, he discovers a self-reliant Seeiw.

And it hurts him.

In the drama’s first half, it appears that Seeiw needs Cake more than Cake needs him. In truth, Cake is much more dependent on being needed by Seeiw. Being needed gives Cake a sense of belonging, and when he realizes that Seeiw no longer only relies on him, Cake feels lost. And with this loss comes jealousy and anger.

In an emotional, drunken outburst, Cake confesses his feelings while Seeiw vents his frustrations.

Like Seeiw’s coming out, this is a pivotal emotional moment that focuses on the pain, heartache, and need their dependency on each other left them with while helping them understand the men they’ve become.

And still, despite this rawness, My Only 12% said, “Wait, I’m not done yet.”

After finally finding peace and maturity in their relationship, Seeiw is devastated when he discovers his mother has stage four cancer. Although Seeiw’s separation from Cake opened the door to finding his independence, he isn’t prepared for a world where the woman he depends on the most is no longer there.

Having lost my mother when I was twenty-three, I felt Seeiw’s pain in my soul.

In a sequence of hospital scenes that touch on palliative care and the heartbreaking reality of parental aging after children have moved away from home, My Only 12% delivered pain.

The overwhelming loss death brings to those left behind is staggering. Life feels emptier with those we love gone, and we are forced to face things we didn’t face when they were alive.

For Seeiw and his siblings, this means facing and forgiving the father who left them, the man whose smoking inadvertently caused their mother’s death.

While there are moments in My Only 12% that could have been compacted to create stronger pacing, the series is one of the most poignant dramas to air in 2022. It takes viewers through the lives of two boys who grow together, lose together, and love together.

And in the process, it invites viewers into moments that help them understand the impact of dependency, coming out, separation anxiety, acceptance, and loss.

And that’s power.

For a drama that will make you laugh, cry, and love, check out My Only 12% on iQiyi.

Rating- 4.5 out of 5

One thought on ““My Only 12%” Series Review (Ep.3 to 14)”

  1. Llore mientras veía la serie, y ahora vuelvo a llorar al leer esta reseña. Me pareció una narración muy bella, gracias.


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