How You Don't Get the Girl: Second Lead Syndrome

Who Are You: School 2015

Nothing in the world could have prepared me for Yook Sungjae’s character in Who Are You: School 2015 (2015). When I first watched the drama four years ago, I was immediately drawn to Gong Tae Kwang: the happy-go-lucky troublemaker who stood by Lee Eun-bi, the main lead, all throughout the series. Tae Kwang and Eun-bi’s scenes were sincere and dynamic, brimming with effortless chemistry and complex emotions.

It was clear from the very start, though, that Tae Kwang was nothing but the quintessential second lead.

The “second lead” is a well-known character archetype in Korean dramas and they’re named as such for a simple reason: They will always come in second. Despite typically being adorable to a fault and trying their absolute best to vy for the main lead’s affection, second leads are doomed to watch the love of their life end up with another.

Whether it’s the trope’s blueprint Yoon Ji Hoo (Boys Over Flowers, 2009) or the swoon-worthily charming Kim Shin Hyuk (She Was Pretty, 2015), I’ve always found myself more invested in the stories of second leads. In turn, I would also still be consistently disappointed every time their confessions were turned down.

Tae Kwang, for example, eventually builds up the courage to tell Eun-bi he likes her— only for her to apologize. As she walks away, Tae Kwang does the infamous K-drama wrist grab and pulls her in for a hug.

“Just let me have this for a moment,” he begs, and— without fail— I shed a tear or two just as he does.

I’m not alone in thinking that Tae Kwang deserves way better than the cards he was dealt with. Forum discussions have insisted that the amount of scenes the main couple had to themselves were “laughable” compared to Tae Kwang and Eun-bi’s moments, and the two are still mentioned in “K-drama Couples We Wanted to End Up Together But Didn’t” articles of this year. (Ironically, the two even won the Best Couple Award for their pairing at the 2015 KBS Drama Awards.) The grief is collective and the reason why we indulge it remains a little bit unclear.

Why do we continue to root for second leads even though we’re fully aware of the inevitable heartache they’ll cause us? I could argue that the angst is exquisite or that the actors are phenomenal, but there has to be a more personal reason as to why I’m still so affected by Tae Kwang and all the other characters like him.

Do we think that obsessing over them will compensate for the fact they weren’t chosen? Do we continue to hope that— maybe this time— the main lead will see who was truly right for them? Do we recognize ourselves in their stories, as if their progression from curiosity to infatuation to heartbreak were our own?

Although K-dramas almost always have a couple that ends up together, reciprocity is rarely ever the norm off-screen. Clichés like piggyback rides and back hugs are for those who are lucky in love. Not everyone can claim to have gone through the heartwarming, kilig-inducing romances that our favorite serieses have shown us, but the experience of a second lead is one that’s a little more familiar and a lot more relatable.

Do we love second leads so much because we sometimes feel like we’re the second leads of our own lives?

Personally, I’m not a stranger to the various facets of being turned down. Whether it’s a message left on ‘delivered’ or a look of pity after an emotional confession, you could say that I’ve been there and done that. This might be the reason why second leads are infinitely more attractive to me. They’re proof that sometimes, even though you think you did everything right, it’s really just not meant to be.

But second leads also prove that they’re worth so much more than a failure to shoot their shot. Across the countless dramas I’ve watched, some of the best character arcs have come from the ones who didn’t get the girl. They mature significantly in pursuit of proving themselves and, after their losses, learn that there are different ways to adore a person; that romance wasn’t— and shouldn’t ever be— the end all be all for what we know of love.

Towards the last few episodes of School 2015, Tae Kwang soars by developing a greater appreciation for life, facing the emotional baggage of his parents’ divorce, and outgrowing his childish tendencies/anger issues. Despite being turned down twice, he tells Eun-bi to just “let [him] be there for [her]” and he does exactly that by defending her regardless of the repercussions on himself. The series ends with him accepting her offer of friendship— not as a consolation prize, but as something just as valuable as what a romantic relationship could have been.

It’s a necessary lesson about the relationships in our lives or, rather, the lack thereof. As all of the second leads I cheered for went on to do amazing things— Yoon Ji Hoo pursuing a career in medicine, Kim Shin Hyuk travelling the world and writing his next book— I gradually came to terms with the realization that the notion of coming in second doesn’t really make sense. Rejection doesn’t make anyone less of a person, and it shouldn’t ruin our relationships with the important people we’ve made along the way.

In the finale of She Was Pretty, Kim Shin Hyuk dedicates his novel to the main lead: “To my best friend, Jackson.” There is no jealousy or spite in the quiet way he honors her and wishes her well. We as an audience may always feel bitter about him being relegated to the sidelines, but in his universe, he’s happy with what they are. He loves her, still, in a manner that allows her to love him back sincerely. Isn’t that much more than any of us can ask for?

Though K-dramas don’t always show them, I like to believe that there are good outcomes for all the second leads that we’ve adored since the first episode— the same way that there will always be character development and good endings for all of us real-life “second leads,” too.