Chapter 23 Confrontation
Oom Eisaya had made worse decisions in her life.
Probably.
She just couldn’t remember them right now.
Because at this moment, standing outside the Psychology Wellness Club room with her heart beating like it had personal beef with her survival, this felt like the worst one.
“…I can still run,” she muttered.
“You’re not running,” Yada said from beside her, leaning casually against the wall like this was entertainment and not a life-altering confrontation.
“I could fake a medical emergency.”
“You’re already having one. It’s called feelings.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“Not right now.”
Yada grinned. “You’ll thank me later.”
“I will not.”
“You will when you’re kissing her again.”
Oom choked.
“That is not helping!”
“It’s motivation.”
“It’s harassment!”
Yada patted her shoulder. “Go.”
Oom stared at the door.
Closed.
Simple.
Unassuming.
Completely unaware that it was about to witness emotional warfare.
“…if I die,” Oom said solemnly, “delete my search history.”
“I’ve already seen it. It’s mostly ‘why is she ignoring me’ and ‘am I being ghosted or dramatic.’”
“…I hate you so much.”
“Go.”
Oom inhaled deeply.
Then—
She opened the door.
---
The room was quieter than usual.
A few members scattered around, packing up, chatting softly, but Oom barely noticed them.
Because her eyes—
Locked.
Immediately.
On Bam.
Sitting at her usual spot.
Calm.
Composed.
Untouchable.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like nothing had ever happened.
Like Oom—
Was just another person in the room.
Oom’s chest tightened.
But this time—
She didn’t look away.
Didn’t retreat.
Didn’t overthink.
She walked straight toward her.
Each step heavier than the last.
Each second louder than it should have been.
Until—
She stopped.
Right in front of Bam.
“…senpai.”
Bam looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for a brief moment—
Something flickered.
Something Oom recognized.
Something soft.
Something—
Gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Yes?”
The tone was neutral.
Too neutral.
Like they hadn’t shared nights together.
Like they hadn’t—
Oom swallowed.
“…can we talk.”
Bam hesitated.
Just slightly.
Then—
“…about what.”
Oom clenched her hands.
“About us.”
Silence.
Immediate.
Heavy.
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
Like everything had shifted just from those two words.
Bam’s expression didn’t change.
But her posture did.
Subtly.
Barely noticeable.
But Oom saw it.
“…there is no ‘us,’” Bam said calmly.
And just like that—
Oom’s heart cracked.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But enough.
“…there is,” Oom said quietly.
“No.”
“There is.”
“You’re mistaken.”
“I’m not.”
Bam’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“You’re overthinking again.”
Oom let out a soft laugh.
Not amused.
Not happy.
Just—
Done.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
Oom shook her head.
“No. What’s true is that you’re pretending nothing happened.”
Bam’s expression hardened.
“Nothing did happen.”
The words landed like a slap.
Oom’s breath caught.
“…really.”
“Yes.”
Oom stared at her.
Searching.
Waiting.
Hoping—
For something.
Anything.
But Bam didn’t give her anything.
Just—
Distance.
Control.
Denial.
“…so all those nights,” Oom said slowly, her voice quieter now, more fragile than she wanted it to be, “they didn’t happen.”
“They didn’t.”
Oom laughed again.
Bitter this time.
“Right.”
Because of course.
Of course Bam would say that.
Of course she would deny it.
Of course she would choose—
Control.
Over everything else.
“…you’re lying,” Oom said.
Bam didn’t react.
“I don’t lie.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
Silence.
Bam’s gaze didn’t waver.
But there was something there.
Something tight.
Something strained.
“…you’re imagining things,” Bam said finally.
Oom’s chest tightened.
“…don’t do that.”
“Do what.”
“Don’t make me feel like I made it up.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m stating facts.”
“You’re avoiding the truth.”
Bam stood abruptly.
The movement was sharp.
Controlled.
But emotional underneath.
“I don’t have time for this.”
Oom’s heart dropped.
“Of course you don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You never do.”
Bam’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Oom laughed again.
“Unreasonable? I’m asking you to acknowledge something that happened.”
“It didn’t.”
“It did!”
The words came out louder than Oom intended.
The room went quiet.
People looked.
Tension spiked.
But Oom didn’t care.
Not anymore.
“Stop denying it,” she said, her voice shaking now despite her efforts to stay steady. “Stop acting like I’m crazy.”
Bam’s expression didn’t soften.
Didn’t crack.
Didn’t give.
“Lower your voice.”
“No.”
“This isn’t the place—”
“Then where is the place?” Oom demanded. “Because you’ve been avoiding me everywhere else.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Real.
Bam exhaled slowly.
Then—
“…I don’t know what you think happened, but—”
“I don’t think, Bam,” Oom cut in, her voice breaking slightly now. “I remember.”
That—
That did something.
Bam froze.
Just for a second.
But Oom saw it.
“…what,” Bam said quietly.
Oom stepped closer.
Not enough to invade.
But enough to matter.
“You held me,” she said softly. “You asked me to stay.”
Bam’s breath hitched.
Barely.
But it was there.
“You said things you won’t say now.”
“Stop.”
“You kissed me.”
Silence.
Absolute.
Complete.
The room felt like it disappeared.
Like it was just them.
Just this moment.
Just—
Truth.
Bam’s hands clenched at her sides.
“That didn’t happen.”
“It did.”
“It didn’t.”
“Then why are you reacting like it did?”
That—
That hit.
Because Bam didn’t have an answer.
Didn’t have a response.
Just—
Silence.
And that silence—
Said everything.
---
“…you don’t remember everything,” Oom said more gently now. “I know that.”
Bam’s jaw tightened.
“I remember enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You remember pieces.”
“And you think that makes you right?”
“I think it means you’re scared.”
Bam’s eyes flashed.
“I’m not scared.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Silence.
Tense.
Sharp.
Because Oom had hit something.
Something real.
Something Bam didn’t want to acknowledge.
“…you don’t get to analyze me,” Bam said coldly.
“I’m not analyzing you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“You’re projecting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Oom exhaled sharply.
“Why are you pushing me away?”
“Because there’s nothing to push.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
Bam shook her head.
“This is pointless.”
Oom’s chest tightened.
“…is it.”
“Yes.”
Oom stared at her.
Long.
Careful.
Like she was trying to memorize something.
Or let something go.
“…fine,” Oom said quietly.
Bam blinked.
“…what.”
“You want to pretend nothing happened?” Oom continued. “Fine.”
Silence.
“You want to act like I imagined everything?” she added. “Fine.”
Bam didn’t respond.
Didn’t stop her.
Didn’t—
“…but don’t expect me to keep chasing you,” Oom finished.
That—
That shifted something.
Bam’s gaze flickered.
“…I’m not asking you to.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
“…that’s the problem.”
Oom turned.
Walked away.
Just like that.
No dramatic exit.
No tears.
No hesitation.
Just—
Gone.
---
Bam stood there.
Still.
Quiet.
Unmoving.
Because everything inside her—
Was loud.
Too loud.
Fragments.
Memories.
Feelings she didn’t want.
Didn’t understand.
Didn’t control.
“…you kissed me.”
The words echoed.
Over and over.
Because she didn’t remember all of it.
But she remembered enough.
Enough to know—
Oom wasn’t lying.
And that—
That terrified her.
Because if it was real—
Then that meant—
She had let someone in.
Again.
And Bam Saralee—
Did not know how to survive that twice.
---