if by some Celestial body ramming itself into earth's surface and rerouting the orbit of their lives and 144 knew each other prior to the kg: they're internet friends. ken is kazutoshi's only friend, which is a tentative term, because "friend" and "kazutoshi" have historically been at odds. it is for this reason that ken is not saved into his contacts. he recognizes ken's phone number string, his vernacular, and also because nobody but his employer (frequent) and yumi (infrequent) text him.
(if ken knew this it would break his heart.)
they are not particularly close by the standards you and i would apply to a friendship. what has happened: kazutoshi has left a bread trail of information for ken to follow. "a funny post he likes." a blogger he enjoys. a youtuber he watches a lot. ken will respond with long, overly detailed explanations or "did you know" or corrections to everything and kazutoshi oft doesn't respond beyond a "nice" or "cool" or the occasional, delightful "What the fuck?". over time this is taken as kazutoshi's own type of engagement, minimal and low-energy because his hands are prone to spasms and he's cognitively hazy on Good Days.
one day, and the sequence of events: ken asks kazutoshi for input on something that he had said. kazutoshi says 'just a minute,' and then goes to put something on the stove quickly, using something prepackaged and bare minimum Make It Taste OK garnishes. reclaim independence; the pot's water spills because his fine motor skills decide Screw You, all of a sudden. boiling and red with sauces & seasoning and similar to the deceased he just cleaned up this morning. the freshness of the red reminds him of his mother. his father. the family "friend".
torn between cutting himself and blogging, kazutoshi is frozen into a long stare. the lookalike blood, it seeps into the floorboards' materials and will mutate the spacing between his apartment and the one beneath. downstairs neighbors will complain, again. this realization takes him out of his stupor and he hastily cleans, and a hygiene meltdown is at the edges of his vision. kazutoshi concludes that he does not have the energy to bleed himself, today, otherwise he might actually die. edge posting it is.
altogether this happens in the span of two minutes.
he posts something along the lines of, i fucked up today. i wish i was dead. if things don't change soon, i'm really going to hurt myself. basic and noncommittal.
ping! naught three seconds after he posts. it's so soon that it doesn't occur to him that it's a coincidence nor that it is a direct action/reaction, because it could be anything. he picks up his phone.
Don't hurt yourself. What's wrong?
I knew something was wrong. Whenever you take longer than 42 seconds to reply, either something is wrong or you're thinking and you just got your medications refilled, so you shouldn't be having difficulties thinking.
Kazutoshi? What's wrong?
Did I annoy you? I'm sorry.
I thought you liked how much I talked. Is it my fault? I'll stop talking. I'm sorry. Don't hurt yourself. I care about you so much.
