Lost Boys & Fairies feels like a love letter to the Queer experience – both its messiness and its magic. It’s not just a story about adoption; it’s a journey through trauma, self-discovery, and the kind of love that demands you confront every jagged piece of your past before you can move forward. At the heart of the series, Gabriel (Siôn Daniel Young) stands like so many of us have – deeply Queer, deeply wounded, and trying to build a future he never thought possible.
Gabriel’s story isn’t new for those of us who grew up in places that told us we weren’t enough. His past is littered with the kind of trauma many Queer people know too well – repressive, masculine expectations and a father who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) see him for who he is. Siôn Daniel Young brings an intensity to Gabriel that’s not just in his pain, but in his reluctance to believe he’s worthy of happiness. That’s what makes his attempt to adopt a child with his partner, Andy (Fra Fee), feel so significant – because it’s not just about parenthood; it’s about healing.
More than just a tale of adoption, Lost Boys & Fairies is about finding family in the unlikeliest of places – and confronting the scars that shape us.
And then there’s Jake. Leo Harris, who plays the young boy Gabriel and Andy are hoping to adopt, is the quiet force of the series. The scenes with Jake are gut-wrenching, as we learn about his own traumatic past and watch him slowly start to trust Gabriel and Andy. His presence is this constant reminder that Queer families aren’t just made by love – they’re made by confronting every fear and insecurity that comes with building something that was never shown to us growing up. You can feel Gabriel’s doubt seeping into every scene with Jake, and it’s those moments of tenderness and hesitation that make this show so raw, so real.
The series doesn’t shy away from Queer pain – but it also doesn’t let that be the whole story. There’s a rawness here that feels achingly real, but it’s balanced by the light and joy that only Queer spaces can create. The cabaret scenes, where Gabriel performs in drag, are so much more than just theatrical moments – they’re where we see him come alive. It’s where his inner world meets his outer one, and yet, even in all that glitter and spectacle, you can see the cracks. He’s still unsure. Still questioning if he’s enough. Those moments resonate deeply for anyone who’s ever had to build themselves up in a world that’s constantly tried to tear them down.
Andy, meanwhile, is Gabriel’s anchor – though not without his own struggles. Fra Fee plays him with a quiet strength that contrasts beautifully with Gabriel’s more chaotic energy. Their love is palpable, but it’s far from perfect. There’s this scene, late in the series, where everything comes to a head between them, and it’s one of the most honest depictions of a Queer relationship I’ve seen in a long time. They’re vulnerable, scared, and yet, despite it all, they keep choosing each other. It’s that kind of messy, flawed love that feels so real – like we’re watching something that could fall apart at any moment, but somehow doesn’t.
In the end, Lost Boys & Fairies isn’t just a story about adoption – it’s a story about what it means to find a family, whether that’s with a partner, a child, or a Queer community that lets you be exactly who you are, no apologies necessary. Gabriel’s journey is deeply personal, and yet, there’s something so universal about it – the idea that healing is messy, that love is hard, and that none of us can really move forward until we’ve faced the parts of ourselves we’d rather leave behind.
Final Thoughts ★★★★★
Would I recommend Lost Boys & Fairies? Without a doubt. It’s Queer, it’s real, and it’s full of heart – and yes, it will make you cry. If you’ve ever felt like you had to battle your past to make space for your future, this one will stay with you long after the credits roll.
But beyond the tears and the tenderness, what Lost Boys & Fairies really offers is hope – hope that no matter how lost we feel, we can find our way back to love, back to a version of ourselves that’s worthy of it. It’s a reminder that, even in the most fractured lives, there’s still room for magic, for family, and for finding a place to belong.
Available to watch on BBC iPlayer and other streaming services.
More Reading
- A Queer Cowboy in the City: Lonesome’s Gritty Tale of Queer Longing and Discovery
- All of Us Strangers: A Hauntingly Beautiful Exploration of What Could Have Been
- Bear Traps at The Golden Goose Theatre: A Quiet Look at Family Ties and Black Holes
- Buried Truths and Second Chances: Two Come Home Delivers a Heartfelt, Moving Reckoning
