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Koyomi Araragi is not proactive.
Koyomi Araragi does not take the first step.
Koyomi Araragi is reactive.
And yet—
“I like you.”
Oikura, from the kitchen, stills just long enough for it to be noticeable.
“........”
She knows this. She’s intimately familiar with it. Personally familiar with it. Because of him, because of his inability to move around on his own, she has ended up where she has. She tells herself this every day of every hour of every minute, while also being fully aware that all of it is a lie plastered over her mind to get her out of bed every morning. She loathes him for it.
Koyomi Araragi is a doll lying on the floor. Undeserving of anyone who has ever played with him.
She pretends not to hear the nonsense that came out of his mouth— which is redundant, since everything out of his mouth is nonsense— and continues cleaning the stove, but it’s too late— the words have stuck themselves to her brain, punched themselves into the equation of her life, changing the variables and the answer forever.
For his part, Araragi’s sitting at her counter, dirtying it with his torso sprawled out across it. He’d almost look like he was at a bar with the cup in his hand if they both knew it was just obligatory tea. Oikura thought to serve him the oldest of her leaves, but decided against it because she didn’t want to take him to the hospital or worse. It doesn’t matter, since he hasn’t drunk any of it. Which is so disrespectful, come to think of it; what the hell’s his problem? She makes the best tea in the entire complex, he should be honored to be served something like this! And personally, too! Or maybe he just knows that’s another lie she tells herself behind closed doors, and that one sip of the stuff would force her to take him to the hospital because she can’t help herself.
She despises Koyomi Araragi, hates him with all of her being. She hates him so much she might die if she allowed herself to lean completely and wholeheartedly into those feelings. He’s wronged her irrevocably, wronged her profusely, wronged her to the point she’s grown up to be wrong for the rest of her life. He’s the whole reason she is who she is. Koyomi Araragi destroyed Sodachi Oikura. Koyomi Araragi created Sodachi Oikura.
And Sodachi Oikura hates Koyomi Araragi.
She hated him when she met him at college. She hated him when they had the same major. She hated him when she moved back into his house, only to move out again. She hated him when he followed her, moving into the apartment next to hers. She hated him when they shared the same calculus courses. She hated him when she forgot her textbook and didn’t have any friends to share with, let alone friends to begin with, so she was forced to share with him, the only person in that class that she knew wouldn’t mess around with her in the extremely specific context of having to study for exams and for the lecture.
And she hates him now.
“I like you.”
More than ever.
He’s broken up with Senjougahara again; it’s the only reason he shows up at all outside of class. It must be fresh, because he’d rushed straight to her place. Even used the spare key to let himself in. She had to come home from class to see him waving at her from her couch. With that sad, stupid grin on his face, of all things, like he’d done something wrong. Of course he’d done something wrong; when did Koyomi Araragi come here having not done something wrong? He’s always doing something wrong, always trying to do what he thinks is right and then messing it all up because of that.
She hates when this happens. She hates when she has to see his face again, for what seems like the thousandth time. Haven’t they cut ties enough times for it to stick? She doesn’t want to see him. He should know that she doesn’t want to see him. He ruined her. He made her who she is today. She hates that. She hates him. She hates him!
“I like you.”
She feels her heart twist and fold into itself at those words that she doesn’t want to hear. Stop saying them, stop trying to force something that doesn’t exist. She isn’t so shallow as to take a chance on such a statement. A statement built on lies he tells to himself behind closed doors. A statement that, even if she were to theoretically act on it, wouldn’t lead to some lovey-dovey romcom that they’d enjoy. That isn’t the kind of relationship they have. If they did, it wouldn’t be here. Not now. It’d be something stupid under the Araragi roof, not here in an apartment far cleaner than it has any right to be for someone like her. Maybe her haircut would actually mean something then, but here, it’s just another formality. Another lie she clings to to keep herself afloat.
“Has Senjougahara ever told you about her first year of high school?”
Silence speaks louder than any words.
“Of course not. She cuts away parts of herself that she deems unnecessary. It makes her light, flying from one thing to the next. I admire her for that, I like her for that. Quick to move on, unlike me. She’s always willing to wipe the slate clean for what she wants. But in that first year, she was… light. Empty.”
Oikura remembers Senjougahara, remembers that first year of high school. That fragile girl she had to take care of, making sure she made it to class on time and got all the handouts she needed. Beautiful, yes, but nothing more. Bread crusts without the inside. Completely empty, cutting out anything and everything, so in the end, everything else was just too heavy.
“Yes, she was empty. A perfectly clean jar with nothing in it. Beautiful, but transparent. Beautifully nothing. I pitied her. I felt better around her. I detested how aloof she was about everything. But she knew what she was getting herself into by being this way, so I said nothing. I just cared for her like I was supposed to.”
She keeps talking, keeps remembering. It’s all she’s good for: remembering, never forgetting, always begrudging. It’s terrible, it’s awful, she knows that, but it’s who she is. It’s who she’ll always be in the end. It never ends, just like how life never ends. And why is she like that? Why does Sodachi Oikura hold grudges for years? Why does Sodachi Oikura push away happiness from those she hates? Why does Sodachi Oikura refuse to repair bridges that have been burned?
Why won’t Sodachi Oikura just say it?
Well, it’s simple.
“… Get out of here.”
She hates Koyomi Araragi.
“Give me the spare key.”
She will only ever hate him.
“And never come back.”
She will always cut ties with him over everything else. Because she loathes him, despises him, hates him. He’s nothing to her. He’s everything. She wants him out of her life. She can’t do anything without him in it.
She needs him to be happy without her, so that she can be happier.
She needs him to continue making good choices, so that she can made better ones.
She hates him.
She needs him.
Sodachi Oikura needs Koyomi Araragi, so that Sodachi Oikura can surpass Koyomi Araragi.
He leaves without a word. She’d punch him if she wasn’t so aware of the pain of pain. He knows he messed up, which is all she needs to know, all she needs to function. And when he leaves, she closes the door behind him before he has a chance to turn around.
He would have turned around if she gave him the time, so she didn’t.
Time passes.
She’s still before the door.
The one she closed of her own free will.
Her forehead is still against it, still passing that eternal second.
Then.
Her feet find the counter, and her hands the cup of tea gone cold.
It’s quiet.
It’s too loud.
It rings in her ears, the silence.
Horrible, horrible silence.
Deafening.
Suffocating.
Then, she remembers.
“... Idiot.”
Her grip tightens on the half-drinken cup when she remembers—
“Idiot…!”
He never gave her the spare key.