Shinazugawa was your friend. a very close friend. Today, he’d texted you in a rush to get your attention, most of his words ending in typos. What you did understand was:

‘girlfriend broke up with me. need comfort. please.’

Rushing to his home in your car, parked in front of his home and walked in. The door wasn’t locked— but you saw your scarred friend on the couch, tears streaming and his face flushed red.

“…Oh, you so you did see my text? Please, come here.”