Chapter 25 Full Truth
Oom Eisaya did not expect Bam Saralee to show up at her door.
Not after that confrontation.
Not after the denial.
Not after the way everything had shattered into something fragile and unfinished.
So when the knock came—soft, hesitant, almost uncertain—Oom assumed it was Yada forgetting her keys again.
“Use the doorbell like a normal person,” Oom called out, dragging herself off the couch, her voice lacking its usual bite.
Another knock.
Quieter this time.
“…Yada, I swear—”
She opened the door.
And everything inside her—
Stopped.
Bam stood there.
Not composed.
Not untouchable.
Not distant.
Just—
There.
Hair slightly messy, like she’d been running her hands through it too many times. Eyes tired, darker than usual, like she hadn’t slept. Her posture wasn’t straight, wasn’t perfect—just barely held together.
Human.
“…senpai?”
The word slipped out automatically.
Bam flinched.
Just a little.
“…can I come in?”
Oom blinked.
“…what?”
“I won’t stay long,” Bam added quickly, like she expected to be turned away. “I just—need to talk.”
Oom stared at her.
Because this—
This wasn’t the Bam she knew.
This wasn’t day Bam.
And it wasn’t night Bam either.
This was—
Something else.
“…okay,” Oom said quietly, stepping aside.
Bam hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping inside.
---
The living room felt smaller than usual.
Or maybe it was just the tension.
Oom closed the door slowly, turning back to face Bam, who stood awkwardly near the center of the room like she didn’t quite know where to put herself.
“…you can sit,” Oom offered.
Bam nodded, lowering herself onto the couch stiffly.
Oom sat across from her.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Just—
Careful.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t comfortable.
But it wasn’t empty either.
It was heavy.
Full of everything they hadn’t said.
“…you came,” Oom said finally.
Bam let out a quiet breath.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Straightforward.
No hesitation.
Because Oom didn’t think she could handle anything vague right now.
Bam’s hands tightened slightly in her lap.
“I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
Oom’s chest tightened.
“…ignore what.”
Bam looked up.
And for the first time—
She didn’t hide.
“I remember.”
Oom’s breath caught.
“…what.”
“Not everything,” Bam admitted. “But enough.”
Silence.
“…enough to know you weren’t lying,” she continued.
Oom didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Because if she did—
She might break.
“…I didn’t want it to be real,” Bam said quietly.
Oom swallowed.
“…why.”
Bam let out a small, humorless laugh.
“Because it means I lost control.”
There it was.
The truth.
Simple.
Sharp.
Painfully honest.
Oom leaned back slightly, studying her.
“You make it sound like that’s the worst thing that could happen.”
“It is,” Bam said immediately.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is for me.”
Oom frowned.
“…why.”
Bam hesitated.
Then—
“Because the last time I let myself feel like that, it ruined me.”
Oom’s chest ached.
Mint’s words echoed in her mind.
She broke.
“…I’m not them,” Oom said softly.
“I know.”
“Then why are you treating me like I am?”
Bam shook her head.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not comparing you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Bam looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time—
There was no wall.
No distance.
No control.
Just—
Fear.
“I’m protecting myself.”
Oom’s heart tightened.
“…from me?”
“From everything that comes with you.”
The words should have hurt more than they did.
But they didn’t.
Because Oom understood.
“…that’s not fair,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then stop doing it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I don’t know how.”
Silence.
Soft.
Fragile.
Because this—
This wasn’t an argument anymore.
This was something else.
Something raw.
Something real.
---
“I didn’t just remember the actions,” Bam said after a moment. “I remembered the feelings.”
Oom’s breath hitched.
“…what feelings.”
Bam looked down at her hands.
“…how much I wanted you to stay.”
Oom’s chest tightened painfully.
“How I couldn’t let go.”
Her fingers curled slightly.
“How I needed you.”
Oom’s throat went dry.
“And that—” Bam’s voice wavered slightly, just enough for it to matter, “that’s what scared me.”
Oom leaned forward slightly.
“…why.”
“Because it’s too much.”
The words came out quieter now.
More vulnerable.
“I’m too much,” Bam continued, her voice softer than Oom had ever heard it. “I always have been.”
Oom shook her head immediately.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You didn’t see it the way they did.”
“I’m not them.”
“You say that now.”
“I’ll say it again if you need me to.”
Bam looked up.
“…you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Silence.
Bam hesitated.
Then—
“I don’t know how to feel things halfway,” she admitted. “It’s either everything or nothing.”
Oom’s heart clenched.
“And when it’s everything—” Bam swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper now, “it overwhelms people.”
Oom’s chest ached.
“…it doesn’t overwhelm me.”
“It will.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can try.”
That—
That made Bam pause.
Really pause.
Because Oom wasn’t backing down.
Wasn’t running.
Wasn’t—
Leaving.
“…why,” Bam asked quietly.
Oom blinked.
“…what.”
“Why are you still here?”
The question wasn’t accusatory.
It wasn’t defensive.
It was—
Genuine.
And that made it harder to answer.
“…because I like you,” Oom said simply.
Bam exhaled softly.
“…which version.”
Oom didn’t hesitate.
“Both.”
Silence.
“…that’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“They’re completely different.”
“They’re still you.”
Bam shook her head.
“You don’t understand.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
Oom leaned closer.
Not enough to invade.
But enough to matter.
“I like the you that ignores me during the day,” she said quietly. “And I like the you that won’t let go of me at night.”
Bam’s breath hitched.
“I like the calm version of you,” Oom continued. “And I like the messy one.”
Her voice softened.
“I like all of it.”
Bam stared at her.
Because no one had ever said that before.
No one had ever—
Accepted both.
“…you shouldn’t,” Bam whispered.
“I do.”
“I’m not easy.”
“I didn’t ask for easy.”
“I’m complicated.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m—”
“Bam.”
Oom’s voice stopped her.
Gentle.
Firm.
Real.
“You don’t have to be less for me.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Because that—
That hit somewhere deep.
Somewhere Bam had spent years avoiding.
“…I don’t know how to be like this,” Bam admitted.
Oom’s chest tightened.
“…then we figure it out.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
The word hung between them.
Fragile.
Important.
Real.
---
Bam looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time—
She didn’t feel the urge to pull away.
Didn’t feel the need to shut it down.
Didn’t feel—
Like she had to run.
“…this is terrifying,” she admitted softly.
Oom smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not scared?”
“I am.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Oom leaned in slightly.
“…because you’re worth it.”
And that—
That was it.
That was the moment.
The breaking point.
Because Bam’s control—
The thing she had held onto for so long—
Finally slipped.
Her hand moved.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Reaching for Oom’s.
Oom didn’t hesitate.
She took it.
Their fingers intertwined.
Warm.
Real.
Intentional.
No confusion.
No uncertainty.
Just—
Choice.
Bam’s breath shook slightly.
“…I remember this.”
Oom’s chest tightened.
“…yeah?”
“…how it feels.”
Silence.
Soft.
Close.
And then—
Bam leaned in.
Not hesitantly.
Not unconsciously.
Not accidentally.
But deliberately.
Her hand lifted, brushing gently against Oom’s cheek, her touch careful but sure.
Oom’s breath caught.
Because this—
This was different.
This wasn’t night Bam.
This wasn’t half-conscious.
This was—
Her.
Fully aware.
Fully present.
Fully—
Choosing this.
“…are you sure,” Oom whispered.
Bam didn’t answer with words.
She closed the distance.
And kissed her.
Soft at first.
Careful.
Testing.
But real.
So real it made Oom’s chest ache.
Her hand tightened in Bam’s.
Grounding.
Anchoring.
Confirming.
This wasn’t a fragment.
This wasn’t a memory.
This was now.
Bam pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Oom’s.
Her breathing uneven.
Her composure—
Gone.
“…I’m still scared,” she admitted quietly.
Oom smiled softly.
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to run anymore.”
Oom’s heart swelled.
“…then don’t.”
Bam let out a shaky breath.
Then leaned in again.
This time—
Without hesitation.