Coping

He was back in this room; sun shining bright through the window he’d left wide open the last time he’d been here. Hopefully someone had the wherewithal to check in on the room to close it whenever it rained, he thought, shrugging his coat off and tossing it across the table.

The table had remained in the same state he’d left it. A kettle full of long neglected water he never quite got around to turning into tea, a notebook left wide open and a pen rolled off to the side. The small bunch of dried red poppies still left strewn across the wooden surface.

An usual flower to go through the process of drying, but it reminded him.

Gunji sat on one of the low stools beside the table and exhaled a breath he’d been holding too long, hands resting on his knees as he glanced around the room.

He had no reason to keep coming back here… There was no particular reason, no job for him to do. Excuses had been made, of course, for why he of all people wanted to have a day to himself. It had become an unintentional habit to visit, and an even more unintentional constant lie to hide it.

There was no reason to lie… so why had it been his immediate reaction the first time someone had asked? And why had he continued every subsequent time since.

They were all innocuous lies, of course; saying he had an errand to run or something inconsequential of the like. Regardless of the fact that he knew it would be an easy lie to call him on. All one of his friends had to do was ask why he hadn’t been answering his linkpearl when he was out. Because, no doubt, he was in a place where the simple connection of the linkpearl would not reach.

Maybe he was worried they’d question why he was there. Not that it was if he was doing anything particularly bad.

Simply… sitting in the room he’d called home for little over a year, staring out the sunlit window. Sometimes, when the light of day was bright enough, it would fill him with a small surge of panic. A tiny rush of fear that the Light had returned, though in his mind he knew that the First was, for the most part, completely fine for the time being.

So there was no reason for him to be here; to return here, time and time again, whenever he had a moment of free time.

He should be back on the Source, not here, sitting in this lifeless room staring out a window to a landscape that wasn’t his.

Sometimes he thought about visiting more than just this room. Perhaps the imitation city at the bottom of the ocean, sure to fade from existence one day now that the creator of the memory was long past. The thought of returning to that place, though, brought a cold chill to him.

The only thing left for him down there was the bitter sense of loss and the crippling sense of self-doubt that came when he reflected on the choices he made when he was there.

Staying, though, he reminded himself, wasn’t an option, and it should never have been a thought he considered for as long as he did.

It was the fluttering of wings that took his attention from the morbid thoughts that had begun to occupy his mind, and Gunji looked up from the fixed spot on the ground he had been staring at. A bird had perched itself on the railing of the flower box that hung from the window.

Bigger than most that you could catch in the Crystarium, but familiar to him. Gray feathers flecked with white, a large, scooped yellow beak, and unusually intense golden eyes peered through the window at him. It shook its head and fluffed out it’s feathers as it settled on the railing.

Standing, Gunji crossed the room to approach the bird, not at all put off by its presence. It was not the first time it had visited. Usually, even, it was already in the room by the time Gunji arrived, as if it always knew when he would be there.

He lifted his hand as the creature watched him intently. It lifted it’s head, a clicking noise coming from its beak, before it dipped it’s head to his hand.The feathers were always softer than he thought they should be, Gunji thought, as he gently ran his fingers over them.

“You know, this is still a pretty weird choice for an incarnation of yourself, you know.” The words were quiet, barely above a whisper, knowing that he’d be heard regardless.

The only response he got was the sound of ruffling feathers and two piercing gold eyes boring into him. As per usual.

It was foolish of Gunji to repeatedly go out of his way to visit the First just for this. A weird bird that visited him whenever he sat in his room in the Pendants. There wasn’t even a guarantee it was what he thought--it probably wasn’t. What were the chances?

And as he said, a weird choice of creature to present yourself as.

Then again, he was a weird man.

The bird made that clicking noise once again and nudged Gunji’s hand to notify him that he’d stopped petting the deeper he got into his thoughts.

Sighing, he absentmindedly scratched along the bird’s chin, watching it finally close its eyes. 

“You know, one day, I’m going to stop showing up.”

Silence.

“I don’t even understand how you know when I’m going to be here.”

Gold eyes were open again, simply staring at him.

“I mean it when I say I’m going to stop coming here.”

Stupid, to think that the bird looked like it knew he was lying.

It’s a bird.

Nothing more.

Just a bird.

“I’ll remember you regardless of whether or not you keep coming to see me.”