“Roxas, you emo bastard, get your ass down here!”

Then there was a clatter of cooking ware and the sound of the stove fan. Before long, the scent of grease began to seep under my door.

Why did we always have bacon for breakfast?

I shoved the heavy curtains from my bedside window. Night. I looked at the useless alarm clock (Axel woke up painfully early). The orange numbers blinked 7:00 AM. Morning?

This is among the many reasons I hate this world, The World that Never Was.

I opened the window to air out the room, careful not to let in the ever-present mist. I proceeded to slowly get off the bed, the protesting bedsprings threatening to give out. The old wood floor creaked in a similar manner.

Everything was on edge here.
Even the new linoleum plastering the bathroom walls was starting to peel. That’s probably because it was cheap. Everything was.

It was one of my (and other organization member’s) problems: The superiors were so god damn stingy.

Once in the dimly lit lavatory, I shoved the second-hand toothbrush into my mouth, slowly brushing while pondering what the normal citizens of this world thought about us.

Contrary to their belief, we did not live in the castle. It was dedicated solely as our base of operations. Thus, we were forced to live in the nearby apartments, which also happened to be the crappiest in the neighborhood (many suspected Xemnas of living otherwise).

But it was, in its own way, a home.

Turning on the single light hanging from the ceiling, I threw on my coat and made the bed. After seeing (and smelling) what had become of Axel’s side of the bedroom, I frowned and promptly evacuated. Roommates were an added ‘benefit’.

Once in the kitchen, I noticed that he wasn’t even dressed yet. Cooking was awfully dangerous with no top on.

“Finally decided to come out of your corner, eh?” he teased, placing the contents of the pan onto a plate in front of me.

I snorted.

“Better here than next to your landfill.”

Axel was a decent cook, but he never paid much mind to what was growing in his personal space. That was my job.

“Just eat, kid.” He laughed.

Then I noticed.

“French toast?”

That was new. Not that I was complaining (I was actually partial to this breakfast food). He smiled.

“We can’t have the same thing every day. And besides…” He sat down across from me “It’s been almost a year now.”

This random act surprised me (I tried not to think that it was part of a perverted scheme). Considering that apathy is encouraged here, there would have been no other way to celebrate. This was, I suppose, the best thing he could do.

“We’ll go out for ice cream later.” He said, finishing his plate. “Since you’re already dressed, you may as well go ahead of me.”

He gestured out the door. I smiled.

“Thanks for the food!”

I put on my hood and jogged out of the building. I felt that today might not be so mundane after all.

I never got past the skyscraper.

And after that fateful day… I sometimes think that if we had bacon, Things would be like they always were.