Javi makes jokes about girls, goes on awkward dates, and plays the role of the “funny, harmless friend.” But the camera lingers on his face when Pablo stretches in the studio, when Pablo laughs, when Pablo shares a protein bar with someone else. Javi’s jealousy is silent, internal, and devastating.
These two are in their fifties. They bicker like an old married couple before they’ve even held hands. Teresa calls him “too rigid.” Don Oscar calls her “too sentimental.” But when Teresa’s car breaks down, Don Oscar is the one who drives her home. When Don Oscar’s ex-wife shows up to cause trouble, Teresa is the one who pretends to be his girlfriend to save face.
Javi doesn’t confess that night. But he goes home, stares at his ceiling, and we see a single tear roll down his cheek. His arc does not end with a kiss or a relationship. It ends with him writing Pablo a letter — a letter he never sends. But in the season finale, he finally tells his sister. “I think I like boys,” he says. She hugs him. “I know,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it.” His love story is not about romance; it is about self-acceptance, which is the most romantic thing of all. Amid the teenage chaos, the show gives us a beautiful subplot: the rekindling romance between Val’s widowed mother, Teresa (a former dancer who gave up her career for family), and the gruff, lonely choreographer, Don Oscar.
Their love is quiet, practical, and deeply earned. They dance together in Episode 20 — not a flashy number, but a slow, clumsy tango in an empty studio. “I haven’t done this in twenty years,” she says. “Neither have I,” he replies. “But your hand still fits.” They kiss, and it’s sweeter than any of the teenage kisses because it’s a second chance. It’s proof that love is not only for the young and beautiful. Bsu Primer Intento understands that first love is rarely “the one.” It is the practice round. It is the bruise you show your friends. It is the song you write that you later cringe at. Val and Mateo end the season not together, but apart — both wiser, both scarred. Lucho and Sofía are the only couple still standing, because they built their love on mutual respect, not mutual need. Camila is single and thriving, having learned that solitude is better than a cage. Javi has not yet found his Pablo, but he has found his voice. Bsu Primer Intento BestialidadSexTaboo Bestiali...
The fracture happens in Episode 9, during a duet rehearsal. Renata is singing a love song, staring into Mateo’s eyes, but he is looking over her shoulder at Val, who is practicing alone in the corner. Renata stops mid-phrase. “You’re not even here,” she says, voice cracking. For the first time, the mask slips. “I’ve given you everything, Mateo. My reputation. My patience. My love. And you’re giving me… leftovers.” This is the end of their facade. Their breakup is not a scream; it’s a quiet, devastating admission: they never loved each other; they loved what the other represented. While the main triangle consumes the spotlight, the true heart of the show lies in the slow-burn, almost painfully realistic relationship between Lucho (the stagehand with a poet’s soul) and Sofía (the shy costume designer who speaks more through fabric than words).
The reveal comes in Episode 14. A crisis hits: the lead costume designer quits, and the showcase is in three days. Sofía, emboldened by the anonymous encouragement, volunteers her designs. As she presents them, Lucho steps out from the shadows to help her pin a sleeve. She looks at his hands, then at his face. “It was you,” she whispers. “All the notes.” He nods, terrified. “I’m just the stagehand,” he says. She takes his hand, dirty with grease paint and chalk dust. “No,” she says. “You’re the only one who saw me.”
Renata enters the scene as the antagonist, but Bsu Primer Intento does something brilliant: it makes her sympathetic. Renata and Mateo are the “perfect couple” on paper. Their families are friends. They’ve known each other since childhood. She is the leading lady; he is the composer. Their relationship is less a romance and more a business merger disguised as young love. Javi makes jokes about girls, goes on awkward
Their first kiss — after Val wins a secondary role against all odds — is clumsy, desperate, and perfect. It happens backstage, smelling of sweat, sawdust, and cheap hairspray. “Don’t mess this up,” she whispers against his lips. “I always mess everything up,” he replies. And that is their tragedy. They love each other, but they are terrified of being loved back.
Renata’s love for Mateo is possessive and performative. She loves the idea of him — the tortured artist she can fix, the brilliant boy who will write her a solo. Their scenes are filled with beautiful, empty gestures: a bouquet of white roses, a handwritten sonnet, a kiss at a cast party that feels staged for the cameras (both literal and metaphorical). When Renata discovers Mateo’s growing feelings for Val, she doesn’t cry. She gets strategic. She tells Mateo’s father about his late-night rehearsals with Val, knowing it will trigger his father’s disapproval. She spreads a rumor that Val only got her role by “befriending” a judge.
What makes Val and Mateo compelling is not the fire of their arguments, but the quiet, stolen moments between them. When Val is cut from a group number for being “too raw,” it’s Mateo who finds her crying on the roof. He doesn’t offer platitudes. He sits down, pulls out a harmonica, and plays a sad, unfinished melody he’s been working on for years. “For my mother,” he says, finally letting someone in. This is the first crack in his armor. Their relationship is built on mutual recognition of pain. Val sees the lonely boy behind the arrogant composer. Mateo sees the diamond in the rough where others see only a liability. They bicker like an old married couple before
In the vibrant, sun-drenched world of Bsu Primer Intento — a world built on the sweat of ambition, the glitter of first performances, and the crushing weight of expectation — relationships are never just subplots. They are the engine. They are the silent scream behind every failed audition and the whispered promise after every standing ovation. The show, at its core, is not merely about teenagers trying to become stars; it is about teenagers trying to become people worthy of being loved. The Core Triangle: Val, Mateo, and Renata — A Lesson in Gravity The central romantic axis of the first season is, without question, the volatile, heartbreaking, and ultimately transformative love triangle between Val (the fierce, underestimated dancer), Mateo (the brooding musical prodigy with a wall around his heart), and Renata (the golden girl with a perfect smile and a fractured soul).
Lucho is invisible to most of the performers. He sweeps floors, moves props, and fixes lights. But he watches. He notices that Sofía always drinks her tea with two sugars, that she hums off-key when she’s stressed, and that she has a sketchbook filled with costume designs she’s too afraid to show anyone.
The show’s final shot is not a wedding or a reunion. It is the entire cast, backstage, minutes before their big showcase. They are all nervous, fixing each other’s costumes, whispering encouragement. Some are ex-lovers. Some are future lovers. Some are strangers. But they are together. And as the curtain rises, the message is clear: relationships in this world are not about the happy ending. They are about the primer intento — the first attempt — and the courage to try again.
Their first date is not a fancy dinner. It’s 2 a.m., sitting on the loading dock, eating cold pizza and watching the streetlights reflect off puddles. They talk about their dreams: she wants to design for a national ballet; he wants to direct, not just handle props. They are both “behind the scenes” people, and that is precisely why they work. They build each other up without competition. Their romance is the quiet revolution against the loud, narcissistic love of the main cast. Not all love stories in Bsu Primer Intento are redemptive. Some are cautionary tales. Enter Diego: charming, handsome, and utterly hollow. He is the “nice guy” who is anything but. His relationship with Camila, a sweet-natured singer with a voice like honey and a spine like wet paper, is the show’s most uncomfortable watch.
That is the genius of Bsu Primer Intento . It doesn’t give you fairy tales. It gives you fragments of truth, held together by the desperate, beautiful belief that love — in all its messy, failed, triumphant forms — is worth the risk.