Chapter Text
Kazutoshi Kamimura. The kanji in Kazutoshi is split up to Kazu, and Toshi. Kazu adds longevity, congratulations, and long life, while Toshi is simply years. Kamimura is split into Kami and Mura. Kami simply means god, while Mura means village. Kamimura Kazutoshi had the most meaningful name to him in this entire place. Kazutoshi had murmured one singular thing about his childhood before... everything, that being that he liked to be pushed on the swings. Ken wanted to cry then, but he knew Kazutoshi wouldn't like it. So he kept on studying, his pencil too tight in his grip.
He thinks about Kazutoshi a lot. Kazutoshi's hair is kind of messed up, with fragile ends. Kazutoshi said it's because he usually has to bleach his hair before properly dying it. One time, when it was too quiet, Kazutoshi let him run his hands through his hair. There was a sense of revelation in that moment, a moment given to him by god. It wasn't soft. It felt like too much, like a promise that he needed to fufill, a life's purpose. Like his life depended on if Kazutoshi would rip his hand out of his hair, just for that moment. Kazutoshi didn't, waiting until Ken deemed it too long to do this without something new being put between them. Ken pushed forward then, murmuring a question about if Kazutoshi liked the quality of his hair. Kazutoshi hadn't verbally responded, just nodding and turning away. He wishes he could've seen Kazutoshi's face in that moment.
They were alone in one of their rooms, often. One of them always left to go sleep in their own bed, but before that, they were existing in the same space. Kazutoshi sometimes prodded him about what he was studying. Nuclear fission, bird calls, sleep deprivation. But more often than not, they were doing seperate things in the same space. Sometimes Kazutoshi slept in his bed, only getting up during the nighttime announcement to go sleep in his own room. He's content with that. Even though he tries his best to sleep as far away as where Kazutoshi was, because Kazutoshi wouldn't like him sleeping in the same space as where Kazutoshi was. Kazutoshi probably has a line, somewhere. A different one from his usual lines, one in relation to him. One time, his sleep addled brain didn't properly remember the situation, and he laid down right next to Kazutoshi. He thinks Kazutoshi stiffened up at that, the space between them gaining tension at a rapid rate. He didn't know that until after the fact, but he remembers the event quite well. Because Kazutoshi turned around, and stared at him. Kazutoshi had relaxed after that, continuing to stare at him until he fell asleep. He woke up alone, and embarrassed beyond belief.
Kazutoshi held his hands, once. An angel in human skin had gently held his hands while tears prickled his eyes, and whispered that it'd be alright. They'd be okay. Ken liked that he started including himself in that. He could barely focus on his own panic when Kazutoshi was holding his hands. Kazutoshi's brows were pinched together, eyes boring into his soul as if he could find out what was wrong just through that. He probably could. Kazutoshi was the smartest person he's ever met, he's not going to pretend he'd know if Kazutoshi couldn't do that. He wanted something, at that moment. Trying to peel open the layers of his feelings was too complex, so he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted. He knew he wanted something, though. Maybe that's why he slumped forward and buried his head into the crook of Kazutoshi's neck. Kazutoshi didn't push him off, that time. He just stayed there, holding Ken's hands, quietly waiting.
There's a short conversation that he wanted seared into the edges of his skull. He tried to think about every possibility, every logical ending, but he could never fit the pieces together.
"I think you'd like my family." Ken had mumbled out, a confession he'd kept in the back of his mind. Kazutoshi looked up, mildly confused.
"Yeah? Why?" His voice was a bit scratchy at the time, almost like he was about to sleep before he spoke up.
"Mao does um- Investigative Journalism. She's really good at it. My Mom would probably be really worried about you. N-not out of pity- o-or anything, just, I don't know. She- She just would worry if you showed up on our doorstep. S-sorry." Kazutoshi snorted at his fumbling, before he laid back down.
"Just a worrywart, like you." Ken sputtered at that. He tried his best not to be.
"I-I'm not a worrywart!"
"You so are. You fret like no other, Hasegawa Ken."
"W-Well I don't worry as much as my mom. She worries when I'm just on quiz shows." Kazutoshi snorted again at that, before quieting enough to show off that he was trying to think. He still did that, taking a moment to recall a phrase when they talked.
"...Show up at your door?"
"Oh. I mean, I'd- I don't know. I'd help you find my house? O-or... sorry."
"Damn, Ken. Already introducing me to your family?"
"I-I mean, yeah? Why wouldn't I?" Kazutoshi looked incredulous at that, before he promptly buried half his face into a pillow.
"You're- fucking stupid, Ken."
"What did I do?" Ken squawked, turning back to the empty pages infront of him. Why wouldn't he not want to? Kazutoshi always seemed to be the one glimmer of light in this hellhole, and Kazutoshi deserved to know about the love Ken had been shown his whole life. He deserved to have some of it too. He wished he knew what Kazutoshi was thinking in the moment. He'd never ask.
Something was wrong, that night. Kazutoshi hadn't walked out after the nighttime announcement, and he hadn't gone to sleep either. Ken had fidgeted at his desk, contemplated if he should speak up or just lay his head down on his desk. Instead, Kazutoshi had sat up. Ken waited, waited for the moment that would make everything click. Instead, Kazutoshi trudged over to him, grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket and pulled. He had looked... tired. Eyes unfocused and something so off that Ken followed. Followed as Kazutoshi pushed him to lay down, and tried to follow Kazutoshi's thinking as Kazutoshi laid down on the other side of the bed. Stared back as Kazutoshi stared at him. He thought it was strange, at the time. He still thinks it is strange. But he counted the scarred parts of Kazutoshi's face, counted strands of hair that framed his face, waited for it all to be explained. It was never explained. He thinks he doesn't mind that much anymore. Because something did click.
Kazutoshi's stares were cataloged into his head. He usually stared at Ken with his eyes less wide then he usually kept them. He thinks it means Kazutoshi was less alert when he was staring at him. Was more focused on one thing than seeing the full picture. That one thing was usually his eyes. During that night when Kazutoshi was being weird, whenever Ken's own eyes flitted over Kazutoshi's, they were staring straight into Ken's. He kind of felt like a dog in that moment, unable to look into Kazutoshi's eyes without feeling uncomfortable. Kazutoshi left a lot of space between them, and his only real movement was soft breathing. Ken wonders sometimes, when its too quiet, what would have happened if he reached out. If he acted upon that realization, the seperate puzzle that was finished.
There was a second, when Kazutoshi wasn't there, that Ken has cemented in the back of his head. When he was alone in his room, laying down on that opposite side of the bed. Kazutoshi usually sat laid down on the right side, but that one night, he laid down on the left. He turned his head, looking at where he was that night. He wished he held Kazutoshi's hands. He wished he knew what was running through Kazutoshi's mind. He wish he ran his hand through Kazutoshi's hair again. He wished that his brain didn't gravitate towards Kazutoshi like he was a lifeline. He wished Kazutoshi could meet his family. He wished- He wished that Kazutoshi would wait for him, would wait until he could find the courage to murmur his feelings. He wished he realized he was in love when they were out of here.