Sick Bird

Late Night Walks.

Grian pov:

Waking up, smothered by my two friends, was not what I had intended. Seeing them so content and happy filled me with a numb, creeping fear. Being back in Japan was terrifying, and the school building only amplified that dread. I managed to wiggle away from the two, careful not to disturb their peace. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over everything, signaling it was about an hour or so before we had to start our mission.

The air was crisp, with a gentle breeze that carried the scent of rain. I wandered the school hallways, avoiding Rowan's classroom. The memories there were too painful; I missed him desperately. The halls felt hauntingly empty, devoid of the spirits I once knew. Their absence echoed through the corridors, making the place feel hollow.

Eventually, I found myself in the old music room. It was a sanctuary amidst the desolation. The ceiling had partially caved in, leaving a natural skylight that revealed a breathtaking view of the stars. The remnants of the roof framed the night sky, creating an enchanting, almost magical scene. It was tempting to take flight, but I resisted, wrapping my wings tightly around myself to preserve the warmth I had grown accustomed to from being close to others.

The room was filled with an ambient glow, the starlight mingling with the soft illumination of fireflies that had made their home here. The air hummed with a faint, melodious resonance, as if the room itself remembered the music that once filled it. The atmosphere was serene, almost otherworldly, a stark contrast to the fear and emptiness I felt inside. I lay on the stage, staring up at the stars, feeling both the beauty of the moment and the weight of my loneliness. 

I knew I probably should open up about all my problems to people, but nobody would fully understand. Even Mumbo barely grasped the half of what I did share with him. I got a very unlucky hand in life—or lucky, depending on how you see it. I was terrified for most of my life. From my initial appearance in Japan to how I eventually escaped, that fear was a constant companion. But all of that melted away as I gazed at the stars, the familiarity of this place offering a strange comfort.

I looked around the music room, my eyes lingering on the instruments that still stood where they had been left, now covered in a thick layer of dust. Their presence felt like a bridge to the past, a time capsule of memories. I wondered if my engraving was still there, the one I had carved into the piano with a pocket knife I’d smuggled into school at one point. It had been a small act of rebellion, a way to leave a mark, to say that I was here.

I walked over to the piano, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across its dust-covered keys. I ran my fingers over the wood, searching for the familiar grooves, leaving clean trails in the dust. The air was thick with nostalgia, the scent of old wood mingling with the mustiness of the undisturbed room. The dust added to the ambiance, making it feel like a forgotten relic of a different time. As I searched, I felt a sense of calm wash over me, a rare moment of peace in the midst of the turmoil that had become my life.

I found it, a little carving on the inside of the leg in the back: T plus S plus G, friends forever... That never ended up happening. My fingers traced the faded letters, a bittersweet reminder of a promise left unfulfilled.

"This place looks cool," I heard a voice I didn't expect. My head almost immediately bashed on the underside of the piano as I tried to shoot up to see if it was who I thought it was. My breath hitched as I leaned down, covering the back of my head and letting out a soft whimper.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" the voice asked, filled with concern. When I looked up again, I was actually surprised to see the room had been repaired. I was confused as I crawled out from under the piano and realized it was a memory. My eyes landed on him.