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@clemelntine

✨️she/her✨️second year art history student✨️ ✨️professional yapper✨️very sane about bl ✨️

Let's talk about Peach’s relationship with money and food.

The writing here is top-tier; it’s one of those rare scripts where the themes are woven into the character's DNA.

But first, I have to revisit my post on that specific product placement. It wasn't just an ad—it was a brilliant plot device that set the stage for everything we know about Peach’s values.

  • The camera store scene in Episode 1 is a perfect example of Peach's core values. By telling the kid to "borrow" the camera and return it later, he is preserving the boy's dignity. He refuses to create a power imbalance where he is the "savior" and the kid is the "debtor." For Peach, money is just a tool for help, whereas for Thee, money is the ultimate source of dominance and control. It’s the first hint we get that their internal moral compasses are pointing in opposite directions.
  • Peach’s core conflict with Thee is about transactionalism. Whether it's the 10-million check or the 10,000-baht lunch "fee," Peach finds Thee’s habit of throwing money at problems dehumanizing. Peach's anger stems from the fact that paying for someone's time or loyalty without emotional presence is objectifying. He doesn't see lavish gifts or "buying places" as romantic; he sees them as relational shortcuts. He refuses to let his affection be treated like a commodity. For him, if the sincerity isn't there, the money is just an insult.
  • The narrative uses food to represent shared humanity. Peach views a meal as a sacred space for connection. We see this when he casually invites Mok to join them, or when he focuses on making sure Thee is fed. This is why his reaction to the grill incident is so telling: he doesn't care about the literal burn; he cares about the shattered trust. In Peach’s world, to feed someone is to offer yourself, and to have that hand pushed away is a profound emotional rejection. The BBQ scene isn't about an accident; it’s about Thee’s inability to accept Peach’s care without suspicion.

  • Peach suffers from a classic case of "luxury guilt." He can enjoy a five-star meal while simultaneously being stressed out by the 10,000-baht price tag. He doesn't believe in indulgence for its own sake. This shows that his internal compass is set to pragmatism: pleasure is fine as long as it’s earned and proportionate. Anything beyond that feels wasteful, imbalanced, and fundamentally unsettling.
  • Gratitude over compensation: this is the lesson Peach is "forcing" Thee to learn. By rejecting Thee's money and asking only for a "thank you," Peach is redefining what it means to be indebted. He’s showing Thee that emotional accountability—sincerity, apologies, and presence—is the highest form of currency. He’s proving that while Thee’s money can buy influence, it can’t buy the kind of respect that comes from genuine humility.
  • The chocolate scene proves that money without understanding is meaningless. The custom-shaped chocolate is clearly expensive and perfectly tailored to Peach’s taste, yet he gives it away because he doesn’t realize it was intended for him. He only values it after he understands the sentiment behind it. This highlights that a gift’s worth isn’t in its price tag, but in its clarity of intent. In this relationship, emotional literacy far outweighs financial precision.
  • Peach’s worldview is a direct challenge to the show's social hierarchy. While others are blinded by status, he sees through it. When he asks Thee how they are actually any different, it’s a total subversion of power. Peach views wealth as an external factor rather than a defining trait. This allows him to stand his ground against Thee’s influence; he simply doesn’t buy into the idea that Thee’s money or family name gives him moral authority.

Why does money make Peach insecure only after he falls for Thee?

The tragedy of his character is the contradiction: he has a clear head about money until he has feelings for someone. Love turns his moral certainty into financial insecurity.

Peach’s insecurity regarding Thee’s wealth isn't about a political stance; it’s about relational safety. For Peach, money and food are tied to attachment and worth. He doesn’t have an issue with wealth in a vacuum—he has an issue with what money does to the people involved. Once feelings are on the line, the wealth becomes a power imbalance that triggers his fear of being easily replaced or "bought" rather than truly seen.

Money makes Peach insecure because it creates a fundamental imbalance. It threatens their mutuality and activates his lifelong belief that he must minimize his own needs to be worthy of love. Wealth risks turning affection into indebtedness, a constant reminder of the asymmetry in their lives: it makes him feel replaceable, while Thee remains the one with all the power.

Why?

Because love introduces comparison, dependency, and the fear of loss. Peach’s core wound is the belief that he must never take too much. He didn't just grow up poor in a financial sense; he grew up impoverished in permission. Between the orphanage and raising Plub, he learned a strict code: don’t ask, don’t need, and never take more than is strictly necessary. He was taught that love is conditional on his own usefulness and restraint. This created a specific internal rule: "If I take too much, I’m selfish; if I receive too much, I owe too much." This explains everything—from the cheap snacks to his discomfort with servants and Thee’s wealth. It’s not class shame; it’s moral survival conditioning.

There is a much deeper layer to the "cheapest snack" analysis. Choosing the least expensive item isn't just about not wanting to "owe" anyone—it’s Peach saying, "Please don’t love me in a way that requires me to become smaller." Luxury forces him into a subordinate guest position, whereas the cheapest snack allows him to remain human-sized. This is Peach protecting his autonomy and his dignity. It isn't modesty; it’s existential boundary-setting.

Why does abundance feel so threatening to Peach? It’s because he views food as a metric of reciprocity. When food is shared as equals, it’s a form of care; but when it is provided in excess by a staff of butlers, it becomes a demonstration of power. Peach finds himself in a position where he cannot match the effort or control the environment. To Peach, those extra dishes aren't treats; they are invisible debts. He feels morally overdrafted, and his guilt completely eclipses his enjoyment.

In Episode 7, when Peach tells Thee, "There’s no bathtub here, no butlers, nothing at all," he isn’t just being self-deprecating. He’s checking for conditional love. What he’s really asking is: "If I strip away the comforts you’re used to, will you still want me?" He is testing for resentment.

Remember: Peach has been abandoned before—not for being a bad person, but for being “too quiet” or “too boring.” He assumes he is an eventual inconvenience. This is defensive pessimism. He frames his life by its “absences” because he’s waiting for the moment Thee realizes the “standard of living” has dropped too far. He doesn’t say, “I have this instead,” because a scarcity mindset makes it hard to see your own value. To Peach, love has always been something you have to earn by being “better,” and he’s terrified that, just as he is, he is a disappointment. That is the voice of the orphanage talking. He doesn’t believe his mere presence is enough.

Before feelings were involved, money was just money—something he could argue against with confidence. But after falling in love, money becomes a measuring stick. It’s not a conscious process; it’s subconscious. He begins asking questions he can never quite articulate: What do I contribute that can’t be bought? If I fail, how replaceable am I? Am I a partner or just a temporary experience? This is why Peach suddenly starts talking about "place" and "separate worlds." While those sound like class-based distinctions, they are actually proxies for attachment. Peach isn’t comparing bank accounts; he’s comparing existential weight. He’s not saying "I don’t want you." He’s saying "I don’t know where I’m allowed to stand."

In Episode 6, the "kiss followed by a push" isn't about a lack of desire; it’s about loss of control. Peach gives consent, but then pushes Thee away because the kiss collapses his last safe boundary. While friendship allowed for distance, romance forces Peach to confront the power imbalance and the weight of future consequences. He brings their "different worlds" because it's a safer narrative than admitting he's scared of how much Thee affects him. He pushes Thee away to re-establish a boundary before he loses himself entirely. It's not a "no" to Thee—it's a "wait" to the overwhelming feeling of needing him.

The orphanage visit in Episode 8 is the definitive turning point. This is where Peach’s insecurity peaks—and finally begins to heal. He brings Thee to the one place where he feels most vulnerable to rejection; the place that, in his mind, proves he has nothing "impressive" to offer. When Thee responds with gratitude, sincerity, and marriage talk (in his characteristically dramatic way), Peach’s deepest fear finally surfaces: "Are you afraid that I would feel repulsed by you because you grew up there?" His answer tells us everything, "I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t help it." Peach’s insecurity was never about money or status. It was about his fundamental worthiness of love.

Peach doesn't accept Thee because he grows fond of the mafia lifestyle. He accepts him because Thee makes that lifestyle background noise. By eating simple meals, wearing his clothes and sleeping in a cramped bed, Thee proves he values Peach more than his own comfort. He trades control for connection and protection for partnership. This is the only "language" Peach trusts, and it’s the only reason he finally lets his guard down.

At its core, this story is about the cost of belonging. Peach loves with a sense of heavy responsibility, and Thee’s world is a threat to his autonomy. The real arc here is Peach realizing that love isn't a debt to be settled. He is learning that he doesn't have to diminish his own light to fit into Thee's life. The show's true heart isn't the wealth gap; it’s the struggle of a man who survived by being invisible trying to learn how to stay and be seen.

The confrontation with Thee’s father isn't just a typical "brave boyfriend" moment—it’s the final evolution of Peach’s relationship with class, money, and self-worth.

This is the payoff for everything I’ve analyzed so far. I want to look at this with a high degree of precision, because there is so much happening beneath the surface.

On the surface, Peach is polite and deferential, but it’s a mask for his newfound strength. He isn’t asking for permission to love Thee; instead, he’s asking if the family is “ready for him.” He’s reclaiming the narrative. It’s the ultimate subversion: he isn’t asking for a seat at the table; he’s asking if the table is strong enough to hold him. This is relational clarity at its finest. He has stopped asking, “Am I enough?” and started asking whether they are capable of respecting his choices. After a lifetime of making himself small to be loved, Peach has officially stopped shrinking to fit into other people’s expectations.

When Peach says, "After having people follow us all this time..." he is finally naming the price he’s already paid. He is acknowledging that he has already accepted the surveillance, the danger, and the total loss of privacy. In other words, he’s saying: "I didn’t go into this blindly." This is Peach asserting his informed consent—a value he holds dear throughout the series. He isn't just being brave; he’s being deeply responsible for his own choices.

The line "Do you think I’m qualified enough to be here?" is easily mistaken for insecurity, but it’s actually the opposite. Peach is deliberately using their language. "Qualified" is a class-based word—a tool for gatekeeping—and Peach uses it to expose how empty it really is. By framing it as a question, he isn't seeking approval; he’s interrogating their standards. What he says next proves that he’s already decided his own worth, regardless of their answer.

"If I said no, would you break up with Kian?" This is the ultimate test, and Peach’s response is the most important line in his entire arc. When he says he would ask what he’s lacking so he can improve until he’s ready to stand by Thee, it isn't an act of submission; it’s an assertion of resilience. We’ve seen Peach minimize himself to survive love before, but this is different—this is active expansion. By refusing to say he would walk away, he is essentially telling the father that his place by Thee’s side is non-negotiable. He isn't shrinking to avoid conflict; he is leveling up to meet the challenge. He’s stopped trying to be “good enough” to be accepted and started focusing on being strong enough to stay. That is a massive psychological shift—from compliance to commitment.

In both scenes with the parents, there is no money offered, no wealth flaunted, and no transaction implied. Because of this, Peach is completely at ease. He is finally standing in a space where love is acknowledged as a reality and the choice has already been made. Since no one is trying to "buy" his compliance, he can speak with total clarity. He isn't a commodity to be negotiated; he's a partner being recognized.

When Peach says, "I promise I won’t damage your family’s reputation," it might look submissive on the surface. It isn't. It’s Peach translating his values into their language. He doesn't say, "I’ll obey" or "I’ll endure anything." Instead, he’s saying, "I will not be careless with what you care about." This is his core character trait: he treats everyone’s "precious things" with the same level of respect. It’s not about being lower in the hierarchy—it’s about his personal commitment to integrity.

The father’s response finally explains why Peach was never “less” than the rest of them. When he says, “You’re like Kian’s mom,” it isn’t just empty flattery; he’s recognizing the same unconditional resolve. He sees that Peach doesn’t need to control Thee in order to love him, that he knowingly accepts the costs of that love, and that he doesn’t need guarantees to stay. He finally understands that Peach meets the Lee family’s true moral standard: a loyalty that transcends money, and Peach embodies it more fully than anyone else.

When the father said, "How could the Lee family’s reputation be more important than the family’s happiness?" it effectively kills the entire "money anxiety" thread. This line confirms exactly what Peach needed to hear: his worth isn't conditional on his status. He isn't being evaluated as an asset, and he isn't being dismissed as a liability. This is the moment Peach finally stops defending his own existence.

Peach’s evolution is beautiful: he starts by believing he has to minimize himself to be lovable, moves into an era of doubt about his place in Thee’s life, and finally reaches a point of absolute clarity by asserting, “I am here because I chose to be.” He realizes his belonging isn’t a gift from the Lee family—it’s a result of his own agency. He has moved beyond the “humble orphan” trope and into a state of self-possession. He isn’t disappearing into the Lee family; he’s standing his ground within it.
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Me and thee is a wonderful example of how when you’re making a show with a (frankly) ridiculous concept you MUST commit to the bit but also committing to the bit does not mean it is void of heart or sincerity or well written characters and dynamics you CAN do both you SHOULD do both and this show did both and I love it endlessly

No HA post today because I am mourning the loss (end) of Me and Thee :(

I've also been feeling a little uninspired, but once I start writing, I usually get into it pretty quick. I'll try 'starting' again tomorrow.

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Unmute ^^

A little video edit I made because this series has literally changed my life in ways I could never have anticipated, and saying goodbye to the show and the characters is probably one of the hardest things I will have had to do, but the friends I made and the experiences I got are forever <3

To more series like this and to an amazing start to this year ✨️

rlly rlly appreciate chiaki thinking to himself "my brain knows he probably didn't wanna hurt me or distract me from the competition but my heart still hurts" love love love love that we don't get it often enough; characters actually coming to the right conclusion but it still not meaning there's no bad feelings involved (which is totally valid)

Low key procrastinating watching me and thee ep 10, cuz it dont want it to end yet 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

In episode 6, when Joke takes Zo to an arcade, They make a deal and agree that if Joke can win 10 games, Zo will open his heart to him. While they are having this conversation they stand in front of a banner/sign, and in the corner of this, we see a little logo with the words “game over”.

In the broad shot, this logo looms in between them while they are talking. The "game over" could be foreshadowing for the fact that Joke loses. He doesn't win the 10 games and doesn't win the bet [hold on, can you win a bet?]. But it also summarizes their whole agreement and conversation at the moment, as no matter how the bet turned out, someone was going to lose something. Either Joke doesn't win the 10 games and loses his chance to find out how Zo really feels, or he does win, and Zo has to confess his feelings. Zo had been keeping his feelings inside and seemed to be battling himself to come to terms with them. Facing and voicing these feelings is losing the battle against his little hope/hold of restrain and repression

Thank you @airenyah and @naamashemer for still being interested in Hidden agenda content, eventhough its been like three years. If you want to be tagged in upcoming HA posts, or dont want to be tagged anymore, let me know <3 )

Only child v/s Siblings and Overthinking v/s Negligence

The earliest confrontations that we see between Zo and the result of his mothers rules is in the car after his mom picked him up from school because he got into a fight with Puen. She says in the car that she'd never expected something like this from him and that she feels like she failed as a mother. Zo explains later that his mom had never told him that she was proud of him, but the moment in the car seems to be the moment where he felt like he had disappointed her the most. It was the moment that he started to try even harder in school because he never wanted to disappoint her again. He wanted to make her proud.

The earliest account of Jokes family dynamics we see is when he gets accepted into college but doesn't feel the desire to tell them after he finds out that they're busy planning his sibling’s graduation. He had seemed very excited at first, but when Grandma told him about the graduation, his demeanor shifted. He seemed to get smaller as his excitement decreased as well. He measures his accomplishments to his siblings’ and since Bachang (im not sure if they’re his brother or sister) has a honors graduation coming up Joke feels like his college acceptance isn't important and won't matter or be worthy in contrast. Joke has stood next to, or rather below, his siblings all his life and feeling like he isn't enough isn't new for him. Every time a sibling did something well, it felt like he had to achieve the same, if not more, to be acknowledged.

Zo's disappointment was attached to one failure and occasion, but Joke has felt this defeat for everything he has ever done. Although this makes him more adapted to the feeling and more able to deal with it, it does complicate his relationship with his parents further. It feels like there is no way for him to ever prove himself to his parents because all he has known is disapproval or slight acknowledgment.

It has become so prevalent in Jokes life that he prepared himself for his parents' judgment before he even told them. We see this when Zo points out in episode 11 that Joke never tells his family about anything that happens (like him being in the debate championships); Joke is so scared (and expectant) of the possible negative or dismissive reaction he might get that he doesn't even tell his family at all. In episode 12, when Zo visits Joke while he is at his family home Joke’s dad asks Zo if Joke caused him any trouble and that he knows Joke is a bad kid. Joke looks deadpan at his dad. He doesn't even seem hurt, like this is a regular occurrence at home; like he always gets dismissed. Zo hops to his defense, explaining that his first impression of Joke was rather negative, but as he got to know him Joke has helped him a lot. This insinuates that Joke’s dad doesn't know him at all and is still building off a first impression level of knowledge on who Joke really is. 

Where Jokes parents never seem to care, Zos parents seem to care too much (well.. his mom, but we don't see that much of his dad). In episode 5, his mom comes over to his condo and complains about the state of his apartment, and starts cleaning for him. When he visits home in episode 10, she is pushy about how well he is doing at school and tries to get them to pull an all-nighter for the sake of practicing together. Not only does his mom expect certain things, she is there to force/motivate him to do it. It might be easy to see this help as care, but the way she goes about it creates an environment where Zo feels he has to push himself beyond what she vocally wishes for. He wants to make her proud, and since abiding to her wishes has never enough for that, he pushes himself further.

It might sound disheartening, but the fact that Joke's parents never outright expect anything, always too busy with his siblings, means that he never seems to have a hurdle to cross. He is permanently stuck in a state of perceived underachievement with a feeling that he will never be better, never good enough. In contrast, Zo is stuck in a state of permanent compliance, with a feeling that he can do better, and thus, he must. Joke might still wish for his dads approval and love, but he has lost all hope of getting it. Zo seems like he has a goal, to surprise his mom with his skill and make her proud (it's just unfortunate that achieving this goal requires Zo to go beyond burn-out). 

We also see this reflected in what they tell each other after meeting their parents. After telling Joke's dad about how much Joke has helped him Zo says that he can see that Joke's dad loves him and encourages him to verbalize it. Joke’s dad stays silent, and Joke exclaims that his dad wouldn't understand as he drags Zo out of the room. This whole time, Joke had been telling Zo not to try and defend him and not to insinuate that his dad loves him. It feels like a losing battle to Joke and one he doesn't even want to try and face. He seems to have accepted that his dad doesn't care and is just trying not to let it affect him too much. In episode 5, Joke goes over to Zo’s condo and meets his mom, who was also visiting. Joke talks with Zo's mom, and, like Zo will also do to Joke's parents, he compliments Zo. He talks about Zo's achievements and how much he cares for him. When they are together again, Zo says “Why did you praise me so much to my mom? Now she'll expect even more from me.” It appears that Zo is chasing a moving goalpost. He is trying to complete a sisyphean task; anytime he gets close to making his mom proud, anytime she might think well of him, she keeps thinking he can do more. It is likely due to her job as a teacher; she spends her 9-5 encouraging kids to put their all into the things they are assigned. Neverending pushes to be better. She brought this mindset home and 

But why does this matter? (jesus christ, i completely lost the plot while writing this, sorry)

Hidden agenda draws a lot of parallels between school and queer identity (most importantly, the relationship the characters have with those two). Joke’s family dynamics aren't as tied to his academic achievements as Zo’s are, but the parts of it that we see vocalize themselves in relation to school. Joke has accepted that his family doesn't care too much about what he accomplishes because it pales in comparison to his siblings and won't change his parents' mind about the kind of person he is. He has developed a pretty individualistic mindset where he seems to care about noones opinion on him (except maybe he cares about what Zo thinks of him). Because of this, we also see him be a lot more low-key about his sexuality. He isn't openly/out as gay but also doesn't pretend to be straight. He answers questions when asked but doesn't make a big deal about any aspect of it.

Zos' big disappointing moment (the fight with Puen) was a result of him coming out to Puen and admitting his feelings. Because his mom was so upset about the fight and Zo connected his feelings as being the catalyst for the fight, it adds onto Zo's idea that his crush on Puen wasn't okay (which Puen also made him believe). In episode 11, Zo's mom tells Joke that, like his father, Zo hides how he feels. This is because when he did give into his feelings and admitted them to Puen, everything went to shit. Ever since then, Zo has been trying hard in school so that he might make his mom proud and earn the right to be vulnerable. He hasn't come out (to anyone) because he thinks that would lead to disappointment.

Thank you @airenyah and @naamashemer for still being interested in Hidden agenda content, eventhough its been like three years. If you want to be tagged in upcoming HA posts, or dont want to be tagged anymore, let me know <3 )

I think Tawan should have been worse, actually. I dont think he should have been redeemed. But not because Aran shouldn't go back to him or deserves better or whatever people are saying. No, I wanted them as they were. Toxic, codependent, and unwilling to let go. I needed them to be the worst match made in hell.

The way to make their relationship better (in a logistics manner) wasn't to make Tawan a better person. They should have shown how desperate Aran was. Why did he cling to this piece of shit? Show me all the ugly stuff he went through. We got so close when Aran begged Thee to help Tawan, but then they just completely abandoned any interest that they had built up for the sake of empty redemption.

If you're going to make Perth play a toxic asshole then at least commit to it. No one has delved into the full potential that that man has yet.

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