Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I hate Makabe Kazuki.”

He says it, still. Because it feels important, to shape the words in his mouth and to make the sounds (and to go through the motions— no. It’s real.) and make sure everyone knows.

“I hate him,” Soushi says again.

Toomi only stares at him, and usually she has that searching, strip you to the bones kind of look in her eyes. Soushi’s used to that look, now, or at least as used to it as it’s possible to get; he expects it, even as he’s mildly terrified by it. Now, though, she just looks tired. She’s staring at him flatly, and it’s not— it’s not the kind of look that levels judgement, or sees through you, it’s just—

She just looks tired.

“I— I hate him,” he says, again. “More than anything.”

Because that’s familiar, where Toomi’s expression is not. Because it’s better than— (no. Because it’s true.)

Toomi stares at Soushi, still silent. It should be a considering silence, because that’s what Toomi does.

But it’s still just tired.

“Okay,” she says eventually. “You hate Kazuki-kun.”

He wants it to be condescending, wants her to obviously be just humoring him. Then, Soushi could be mad, and that too would be familiar.

Instead, it’s only flat, and emotionless in a way that speaks to exhaustion rather than the way Toomi usually wields tonelessness like a knife.

(Right now, she reminds him of nothing more than— no. Soushi doesn’t - Soushi didn’t - pay enough attention to that guy to be able to make a comparison to him. Of course he didn’t.)

(Because he hates him.)

(He does. He does.)

“I still hate Makabe Kazuki,” he tells Miwa, later, standing in the doorway of her room while she hugs her pillow to her chest.

It’s— he feels a little bad, maybe. Miwa is not tired, like Toomi. She’s upset. Prone to crying in fits and bursts. It feels like kicking her while she’s down.

But it’s important. That she not think that— or rather, that she knows… well…

It’s just that Miwa seems like the kind of person who wants to… talk about good times, or something. Or about being sad. And Soushi is happy to talk to her if it would help. Usually.

But he hates that guy. So he can’t listen to it. He doesn’t want to hear good things about Makabe Kazuki, because he hates him.

(Because he has to hate him. No matter what.)

Miwa stares at him, when he says that. It’s not like Toomi had stared at him, all flat and emotionless. Miwa wears her heart on her sleeve, and right now it’s displaying itself in shining eyes and a trembling bottom lip and a deep, vicious frown.

“Soushi is wretched,” she apparently settles on.

“I’m allowed to hate him!” he snaps back. He hadn’t intended to snap. Him and Miwa really do bring out the worst in each other, sometimes.

“You don’t have to rub it in!” Miwa yells back, and she’s crying properly now. “Good for you! You’re not sad about Kazuki-onii-chan, because you hated him! Lucky you!”

Soushi flinches back from that, and it’s— it’s only because he can feel the anger like hail on his face. That’s all.

“Not hated,” he insists, because that’s important. It is. “I hate him. I won’t stop hating him, just because he’s not here.”

Miwa stares at him, tears pouring down her face, and Soushi thinks she’s going to yell again. They always end up yelling at each other, and she’s especially emotional right now, and so it would make sense for her to yell. Just like it makes sense for Soushi to hate Makabe Kazuki, after what he did.

She doesn’t yell, though. Miwa stands up from her bed, letting the pillow drop behind her, and walks steadily to the door. Maybe she’s going to slap him this time.

(That would be okay, Soushi decides. As long as she understands, it’s okay if that makes her mad.)

She doesn’t slap him, either. She just stares at him, through him, resembling her aunt in a way that Miwa never usually does.

And then she says, voice flatter than he’s ever heard from her, “Liar. You always call me a child, but at least I can admit that I miss Kazuki-onii-chan! Soushi is a child and a coward.”

She slams the door in his face when she’s done speaking, and Soushi is just left staring at it.

He wishes, suddenly, that she had slapped him, or at least yelled.

(Not that it should matter. Miwa was wrong, obviously. Of course Soushi doesn’t miss that guy.)

(He doesn’t. He doesn’t.)

(And if he keeps telling himself that the tears dripping down his face must be the influence of Miwa’s emotions, that’s only because it’s the truth.)

(It has to be the truth. Because Makabe Kazuki is gone, and the alternative to hatred is—)

(No. Soushi hates him. He has to.)