Why did he do it at all? Why did he even bother opening his eyes and gaze up at the ceiling above him? He knew that it would be there. There were many things that he knew would be there every morning when he woke up. The sun would be in the sky, the ceiling would be above his head, and the radio would be playing the news. Well, at least if it was on.
Genji forced himself to get up, to gaze at the window before getting off from the bed. There were many things that he took for granted to always be there. Sometimes, these things came and go without a warning. Sometimes, it was better to try and pretend that they were not gone.
The kitchen table was empty, forcing his hand to restrain itself from grabbing the porcelain coffee mug that would usually sit there waiting for him alone. Instead, he rummaged through the cabinets on the bottom, where he found a disposable cup. With that, he set off to make himself some coffee.
As it boiled, he absentmindedly walked outside, his usually heightened senses completely ignored and his observant bright eyes dull. He wandered around the front for a moment, lost in both his thoughts and his desire to not think, before recalling his intentions.
The recycling bin found itself filled up much earlier than usual, though of course no single load of trash could fill it up. After all, it was an orderly house that strictly limited on its supply of trash, always being emptied after a few days and with very little to throw away through conservation. Today, the small trash bin Genji held in his hand was filled with trash.
There were a few letters that they had received the previous day, including a few of his own. There was the morning's newspaper, discarded while still inside its plastic package. And there was a ripped calendar, torn right through the center.
The pages filled with neat X's were now crumpled and torn. There was a small happy angel drawn on the calendar date representing the previous day, accompanied by a house and a small golden heart. It stood at the center of the divide, torn in half relentlessly and without a chance at being put back together. The bottom half of the pages below that week was gone, crumpled and thrown somewhere underneath all the other items.
Genji did not pay mind to this as he let the lid shut behind him, finding his way back into the house. The trash bin clattered onto the kitchen floor near its usual place next to the counter, tipping over as part of its bottom landed on a stray porcelain shard to barely lean against the counter, threatening to tip over at any moment.
The coffee was ready now and Genji poured it into the cup, past the halfway line that he would normally need. He pulled out the chair on the other side of the table, pushing away a stray thin piece of wood in the process. He sat down, taking a sip of the coffee as his gaze never strayed from the dark liquid in the cup.
In its reflection, he saw only himself. His hair was obscuring his vision, free from the usual neat combing and gel that would prevent it from doing so. He gazed at himself, hating every moment of seeing himself there. Why was he still here?
Genji's eyes widened as he felt something flutter behind him, the gentle breeze of something familiar approaching him as soft as an angel. He whipped around, only to find the stray convenient store plastic bag floating down toward the ground. It was an easy enough mistake, especially when they always agreed to avoid using plastics and stores that needed them. He stood up and closed the front door, sitting down to pick up the cup again.
His image shook in the reflection as he moved to take another sip. The waves bounced back and forth inside its confines, the cup deforming as Genji struggled to keep it still. At last, he placed it down forcibly, creating a large ripple instead of an otherwise imminent spill. A ripple that was forcibly disrupted by yet another that suddenly appeared off center within the cup. And another on the other side.
Genji stood up, walking away from the table and returning to the bedroom. The coffee could wait, it was much too hot for a warm summer day anyways. Besides, it was bitter. So, so bitter on the tongue that desired nothing. Not even the ready-to-eat convenient store meals that waited to be heat up from the fridge.
He laid down once more in the isolated dark bedroom, the blanket tossed aside in a heap despite half the bed still being completely neat. It was a stark contrast, the fluffed up and smooth pillow on one side of the bed compared to the turned and wrinkled cover of the other, the side of the bed where the bed cover was pulled up and wrinkled almost to the point of tearing.
Genji laid on this side of the bed, choosing this time to gaze up at the ceiling instead of the blank wall underneath the closed window beyond the edge of the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the thoughts returned to him. Hell, it was a generous to even call them thoughts. At best, they were called memories. Normally, they were undoubtedly called a living nightmare.
Genji simply laid there then, with his eyes shut and lying dead on the bed. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps it was better that he should stay there after all. It was probably a mistake to get out of bed that morning after all.
With that, he forced himself to go into sleep mode once more. It was better to simply shut his entire body and mind down, so that he did not have to think about it all. If she hadn't been so thoughtful, he would have gladly shut his system down permanently. However, his lover had not been so careless. She was never careless. But that didn't change the outcome.
As his systems shut down once more, he thought to himself the only coherent thought he has had all day. Why did he even bother opening his eyes and gaze up at the ceiling above him? The answer was that he shouldn't. Not when the one thing he looked forward to every morning was no longer next to him. Not when there was no one to see him even as he struggled to see himself.
If he didn't matter, then why should he pretend to still be there at all? When there was no light around him to gaze at, there was no difference between when his eyes were shut and when they were open.
Every journey began with a single step. However, how is he to take a step when the whole world would not even allow him to stand?