Chapter 20 Panic & Distance
The next day felt wrong.
Oom Eisaya noticed it the moment she stepped onto campus, long before she even reached the club room, long before she saw Bam, long before anything actually happened.
There was just—
A shift.
Subtle.
Unsettling.
Like something had gone out of alignment overnight.
"...I don't like this," Oom muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag as she walked beside Yada.
"You say that every day," Yada replied, sipping her iced coffee like life was a sitcom and she was the main character.
"No, this is different."
"Everything is different for you these days."
Oom stopped walking.
"...she didn't show up last night."
Yada blinked.
That got her attention.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Oom resumed walking, slower this time.
"I waited," she admitted quietly. "For an hour."
Yada winced. "That's rough."
"It's not about that," Oom said quickly, though her voice betrayed her just enough to make it obvious that it absolutely was about that.
"It's exactly about that."
Oom didn't argue.
Because—
It was.
She had stood outside the club room like an idiot, staring at a closed door, convincing herself that Bam was just late, that something came up, that maybe she was overthinking.
But Bam never came.
And that—
That had never happened before.
"...something's wrong," Oom said again.
Yada hummed. "Or something's changing."
"That's worse."
"Depends."
"No, it doesn't."
---
When they reached the club room, the atmosphere confirmed it.
Because Bam was already there.
Sitting at her usual spot.
Calm.
Composed.
Untouchable.
Day Bam.
Oom's chest tightened immediately.
Relief hit first—sharp and sudden.
She's here.
Followed by something else.
Something colder.
Because Bam didn't look at her.
Not once.
Not even by accident.
"...okay," Oom whispered under her breath. "That's new."
"Maybe she's busy," Yada offered, though her tone lacked conviction.
"She's always busy."
"Then maybe she's... busier."
"That's not comforting."
"No, it's not."
Oom forced herself to sit down, to act normal, to pretend like her entire emotional stability wasn't currently dependent on one very specific person acknowledging her existence.
She pulled out her notebook.
Opened it.
Stared at it.
Did not read a single word.
Because her attention—
Was elsewhere.
Always.
Inevitably.
On Bam.
Who—
Continued to ignore her.
---
It wasn't subtle.
It wasn't even ambiguous.
It was deliberate.
Bam spoke to Tantan.
Answered questions from other members.
Acknowledged the professor when needed.
Maintained her usual calm, composed demeanor.
But when it came to Oom—
Nothing.
No glance.
No acknowledgment.
No existence.
"...this is worse than rejection," Oom whispered.
Yada leaned closer. "You didn't even confess."
"I know."
"So technically, this is pre-rejection."
"That's not better."
"It's kind of funny."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
"Unfortunately."
---
Oom tried.
She really did.
She tried to focus.
Tried to listen.
Tried to engage.
But it was impossible when every few seconds her brain went—
Why is she ignoring me?
Did I do something wrong?
Did she remember something?
Does she hate me now?
Is this because of Mint?
Am I being ghosted in real life?
"...I'm going insane," Oom muttered.
"Yes," Yada said without hesitation.
"Can you not agree so quickly?"
"You've been spiraling for twenty minutes."
"It's only been ten."
"That's worse."
Oom dropped her pen.
"I need air."
"Don't run away dramatically."
"I'm not running away."
"You're definitely running away."
"I am strategically retreating."
Yada snorted. "Same thing."
---
Oom stepped out into the hallway, the cooler air hitting her face as she exhaled sharply, trying to calm the mess of emotions swirling inside her chest.
"...get it together," she muttered.
This was ridiculous.
She wasn't in a relationship.
She didn't have a claim.
She didn't have a right—
So why did it feel like she had just been—
Abandoned?
Oom pressed her palm against her chest.
"...this is stupid."
But it didn't feel stupid.
It felt real.
Too real.
---
"You look like you're about to cry."
Oom froze.
That voice—
She turned.
Bam stood a few steps away.
Close.
But not too close.
Never too close during the day.
"...I'm not," Oom said quickly.
Bam studied her.
"You left."
"I needed air."
"You could've said something."
Oom blinked.
"...you didn't say anything to me either."
Silence.
Bam didn't respond immediately.
And that—
That hurt more than anything.
"...I was busy," Bam said finally.
Oom laughed softly.
Not amused.
Not happy.
Just—
Tired.
"You're always busy."
"Yes."
"That doesn't usually stop you from acknowledging people."
"I acknowledged everyone."
Oom's chest tightened.
"Except me."
Another silence.
Heavier this time.
Because that—
That was true.
Bam's gaze shifted slightly.
Not quite meeting Oom's eyes.
"...you're overthinking."
Oom stared at her.
"You ignored me."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I didn't intend to."
"That doesn't change the outcome."
Bam's expression hardened slightly.
"You're making this bigger than it is."
Oom's heart dropped.
Because—
That tone.
Cold.
Distant.
Detached.
Like nothing had ever happened.
Like none of those nights existed.
Like Oom—
Was just another person.
"...right," Oom said quietly.
Because what else could she say?
What else could she do?
When the person who held her like she mattered—
Now looked at her like she didn't?
"...sorry," she added.
Bam frowned slightly.
"For what?"
"For overthinking."
The words felt wrong.
But she said them anyway.
Because it was easier.
Easier than asking.
Easier than pushing.
Easier than risking—
More rejection.
Bam didn't respond.
Didn't correct her.
Didn't stop her.
And that—
That said everything.
---
That night—
Oom didn't go to the club room.
She couldn't.
Not after that.
Not after the way Bam had looked at her.
Like she was nothing.
Like she imagined everything.
"...I'm not going," she told Yada firmly.
Yada raised an eyebrow. "You're giving up?"
"I'm taking a break."
"That sounds like giving up."
"It's not."
"Okay."
Oom lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her phone resting beside her, her mind—
Too loud.
Too quiet.
Too everything.
Because now—
There was no night Bam.
No day Bam.
Just—
Nothing.
And somehow—
That felt worse than both.
"...this sucks," Oom whispered.
"Yes, it does," Yada replied from the other side of the room.
Oom turned her head slightly.
"You're supposed to comfort me."
"I am comforting you."
"How?"
"By validating your suffering."
"That's not comforting."
"It's honest."
Oom sighed, closing her eyes.
"...what if it's over."
Yada didn't answer immediately.
"...was it something that could end?"
Oom's chest tightened.
"...I don't know."
And that—
That was the worst part.
Because she didn't even know what this was.
Didn't know what they were.
Didn't know what she had—
Or what she had just lost.
And that uncertainty—
Was slowly tearing her apart.
---
Somewhere else—
Bam sat alone.
In her room.
In silence.
Her hands resting in her lap.
Her thoughts—
Anything but quiet.
Because the fragments—
Were still there.
Louder.
Clearer.
Harder to ignore.
"...you stayed..."
Her breath hitched.
"...don't go..."
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Because now—
There was a face.
A presence.
A name.
Oom.
And that—
That made everything worse.
Because it wasn't just random anymore.
It wasn't just abstract.
It was real.
Specific.
Connected.
And Bam—
Didn't know what to do with that.
"...this isn't real," she whispered.
But it felt real.
Too real.
And that terrified her more than anything.
So she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She distanced herself.
Pulled back.
Created space.
Because if she didn't—
If she let those fragments connect—
If she let herself feel whatever that was—
Then she might lose control.
And Bam Saralee—
Refused to lose control.
Even if it meant—
Pushing away the one person who made her feel something.
Even if it meant—
Losing her.
Before she even understood what she had.