Hair Pin [Sunny x Basil | Basil x Sunny | Bunny | Sunflower] OMORI Oneshots

The Hate We Share

[Art by carrot113 on Reddit]

WARNING

Spoilers

TW: self harm, uncomfortable romantic relations (dubious consent)

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I'm not sure how long I'll last without bursting into tears.

I try to just look down at my hands. Yes, my hands, my simple hands! They grip the edge of my shorts, bunching the fabric. But looking at my hands prompts me to look at my scarred forearms. The scars are pink and recent, striping skin that was pristine just about a couple weeks ago.

I gaze at the floor instead. But that comes with its own problems. Not only do I have to see the orange joe stain on the carpet and have my eyes burn remembering Mari, but I have to look at his shoes. Why did I let him into my house...?

Biting the bullet is the best thing to do. I look him in the eye, or try to. He's glancing away from me too. I follow his eyes. They're on his own hands. One is closed around a sack full of rocks, of which's tac-tac-tac of being thrown against my closed window I remember. The other, around a bouquet of flowers. Their stems are smooshed and their leaves are drooped. The petals, however, have been kept from any harm, and their colors are still vibrant. I can smell the fragrance from a few feet away.

I try to look into Basil's eyes once more. I'm startled to see that they're already on me, and that they're dangerously wet, too. "You don't hate me, do you?" he asks, his words choppy from him choking up.

I open my mouth to say I don't, but it doesn't come out. Do I not hate him?

Hate is not wanting to see the other's face, or wanting to punch it once you do. I want to get his face out of my line of sight... I do! I don't want to remember what we did, just a couple weeks ago. I'd even punch it so it disfigures enough to not remind me. My hands tremble at the thought. In apprehension to that, or anticipation? I'm not sure. So do I hate him? Maybe. And I won't tell a lie, so I keep silent.

He's the one that cries first. A dry sob comes from his mouth, a streak of water from his eye. The two are followed by more of their kind until I can hear him whimpering, see his cheeks ruddy and slick with his tears. "You do..." he manages to slip a coherent sentence through his crying. "You hate me. I... I'm sorry....."

Rustling is heard as the bouquet of flowers and the sack of rocks drops to the carpet. Letting go of the bag doesn't cause too much harm to them, but the flowers are now bruised as they lost the care they used to have.

"I'm scared that... I hate you too." A little, shaky voice says.

My eyes are torn away from the bouquet as Basil says that. He hates me back? "Why do you?" I ask.

I see his face contort into a snarl for a moment. "Why do you have the right to and I don't? Do you think this is easy for me? You don't care about me at all!" The tears blotch out his aggressive expression again. He breathes in a deep a breath, dotted by shuddering. "I hate you... I hate you, I hate you, I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!" After that bout, he sighs. A smile graces his mouth but is gone just as soon as the snarl. "It's easier when I say it."

We lock gazes. The tears that were barely breaching fall down my face. Just as it's easier to say it for him, it's easier to hear it for me. But it still... makes me so sad that my feelings are retributed. So I cry.

My eyes close, open just enough for them to shed their tears. I don't want to look at him anymore... "I hate you," I coarsely whisper. He's right - it's better to just accept it. Who wouldn't hate the one that helped cover up a murder? There would always be tension. There would always be the possibility the other one would speak up. There would never be a friendship like before.

Suddenly, I feel something soft against my lips, which I've forced closed to not audibly weep. My eyes burst open. I could see that face I despised oh so close, but Basil immediately puts distance between us as I saw him. He seems embarrassed for a moment, but that is soon replaced with commitment. "Since I hate you now, it's fine if I do anything I want. I don't care what you think anymore." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself too. It's working, and his confidence swells. But just as soon, it deflates. He looks at me with a lost, pitiful expression. "What do I do now...?" he murmurs to himself.

I get onto my feet, standing just like Basil, with our knees about to buckle. Before that happens, I step closer to him and kiss him back. Him doing that to me me awakened that want for him I'd had so long ago, though this time it was devoid of a crush, only full of confidence and what might be lust. And he's right. We hate each other, so we don't care if the other will hate us back for stealing a kiss.

I pull away. I can't look into his eyes now, so I look at our feet. It reminds me of the photo we had taken with all our feet in a circle, but now it was just me and Basil. In many things from now on, we would be the only ones. Though seeing each other left a foul taste in our mouths, this was inevitable. After all, we were the only ones that knew the truth. Hopefully, it would stay that way, to avoid repercussions to our actions. He thought that too. I could tell, when I had looked at him directly those times before.

I can see he had trampled on the bouquet as he had come over to me. Its colors are dull, never to bloom again. All that would grow now would be our sense of guilt, and our ill will toward each other. Now that we were unafraid of each other, that would just be normality. That is fine.

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[A/N]

With many of these oneshots, I ask a friend on what's a trope they hate so I can write about it, maybe turning it into one they like, or keeping it as one they despise. For example, this one was a toxic enemies-to-lovers, and the first oneshot in this book, Hair Pin, was an pseudo-amnesia fic.