I think there is something so fitting about this ship, which was built around eye contact, to part ways with a silent look and with so many words unsaid. I don't think it's lazy. I think it's poetic.
There is beauty in understatement, in the space between things, in the silhouette of an object, or the shape of a relationship.
Whenever I think about KimKenta's story, I'm reminded of the concept of 間 (ma), a JP word that means time, interval, space, or room. I think tumblrinas are probably most familiar with ma as illustrated by Hayao Miyazaki as "the space between claps." As a philosophy of art, ma is the importance of negative space.
Perhaps most importantly, “ma” goes beyond the visual or spatial. It can be sonic, as in the silence between musical notes that shapes a composition. It can be social, whether conscious or subconscious, like the deliberate pause at the end of a bow before rising, or the instinctive silences in a conversation that allow each party to feel comfortable speaking. It can be temporal, the interval between events, like an intermission in a performance or a much-needed tea-break in the midst of a worker’s busy day. (x)
There is a lot of talk about how the unspoken and undefined in KimKenta's story is a drawback and a result of poor writing, but I think that this negative space highlights their relationship. The silences they share are always full of meaning. The year-long gaps between each of their meetings contrast starkly with how physically close they are when they're together.
The long period of Kenta’s captivity in s2 not only mirrors Kim’s captivity in s1–it also provides an important negative space in the plot. The audience feels Kenta's absence in a way that none of the other characters do—except for Kim. And in feeling that absence, we notice all the things that aren't there. Any concern for Kenta's safety. Any urgency from Pete to resolve the situation.
But most importantly, what we do not see is any love earned through Kenta's sacrifice.
Kenta sacrificed himself not only to save Kim, but also to get intel on stopping Tony and to help X-Hunter, to whom he feels he owes a debt. And in doing so, he is falling back on his same pattern of seeking love by making himself useful, but it does nothing. X-Hunter doesn't care about him any more than they did before. And Kim does not suddenly gain feelings for Kenta—all it does it cause him worry and stress because he already cared about Kenta.
That nothingness, that negative space after Kenta is captured is not a waste. It's the point. It's what gives the gravity to this moment when Alan finally remembers that Kenta exists.
Furthermore, I think this understatement in their story and in their ending was intentionally done. After s1, Garfield talked about being daunted by Kenta's lack of dialogue, until he dug into the character during workshops and he realized "that his silence hid his feelings," something that Garfield found he could relate to. Kenta is not a man who expresses himself with many words, and his relationship with Kim fits right into that.
When asked about designing KimKenta's story with the director, Benz said that KimKenta are people "who understand each other just by looking at each other." Kenta may be a man of few words, but these two don't need many words to understand each other. Their heavy look in s1 had an impact on the audience, and they built that into their dynamic for s2. They see each other and they understand each other in ways that nobody else does.
Yes, Kim could have asked Kenta to go to Korea with him, just to make it more clear that he wanted Kenta with him. But he'd already made it clear that he would always be there for Kenta. It's the reason why Kenta felt comfortable enough to ask if it was okay to reach out. Because the Kenta who had been abandoned by Pete, the Kenta who said nothing when Pete left him with Kim? Would have shut down and deflected and assumed that this was it for them.
But the Kenta who understands Kim with just a look felt safe enough to ask if he could still be part of Kim's life.
And if Kim had asked Kenta to go to Korea with him, Kenta would have gone with him without hesitation. Kenta threw himself in front a bullet for Kim, and he would devote himself to Kim at the cost of his own agency. Kim knows this. He does not need to be told it. He knows Kenta's story. He knows the things that Kenta—gentle, caring Kenta—did in search of love from Tony. He knows what Kenta did in search of love for Pete.
And Kim saw the look in Kenta's eyes when they kissed.
The same way that Kenta looks at Pete. Like he is retreating as a person and only thinking about making himself useful.
The most out-of-character thing that Kim could do would be to let Kenta fall back into the cycle of pursuing love the only way he knows how. So instead, he does the most respectful thing he can, and he asks Kenta what Kenta wants to do. It is Kenta's own idea and own decision to learn to live for himself, and Kim not only respects that—he also understands it because Kim, too, has chosen to focus on his own path even when Alan guilt-tripped him for it.
Even though it hurts both of them to part, Kim is strong enough to do the right thing and let Kenta break the cycle that he's been trapped in.
Once again, Kenta is left on his own, but it's not the same as when Pete left. Pete left Kenta behind because he didn't believe that Kenta could be his own person outside of Tony. But Kim lets Kenta go because he does believe in him. Because Kim sees Kenta. He's not abandoning Kenta any more than the sun abandons the earth. Even with distance between them, Kim will still be there when Kenta needs him.
When KimKenta parted ways in s1, it was with a silent look and a door closing between them. But when they part ways with another silent look here, they are connected through the warmth of touch. There’s no goodbye kiss or even a hug—and the absence of those things is as important as if they had happened. Because what it shows is their restraint as they both try not to cry.
Because a parting like this, between two people who not only love each other, but also respect and trust each other—it can be such a good thing, a powerful and transformative thing.
But it still hurts like hell.
We don't see what happens between KimKenta in the year that they are apart, just as there are many things in their story that we don't see, words that we don't hear.
Even in their reunion, we don't know what they say to each other. Even the light blocks out Kenta's face every time he looks Kim in the eye. These things are hidden from the audience.
But there are other important things in this negative space, too. We don't see shame, confusion, fear, doubt, or anger—things that Kenta used to carry with him.
Instead, we see the things that have grown in the space between them. We see the way Kim reaches for Kenta with a familiar confidence. We see Kenta's comfort in his own skin.
We see their wholehearted joy, their peace at being together.
And what is that, if not love?
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