It was a little weird, Sora could admit to that as he typed out his great grandmother's infamous double chocolate cookie recipe in fancy but legible cursive, but it was Sora's mission in life to make people happy and, through the thin walls of their apartment building, Sora would like to think of his neighbour as apart of his life.

So Sora, having heard Riku Stalt (he silently thanks the buzzer for the room above his own for the name) grumble and stomp his way through the last six years, decided that if Riku didn't want his involvement directly (every attempt at hallway conversation has been polite but curt) then he would just have to improve his life indirectly. And that's how Bright Life INC got created. Well, fake created.

With some custom paper, a good font, and a slapped together website, Sora made the only thing in the world that he could think of to cheer up his surely neighbour. He only hoped that it would work.


Riku was having a bad week. It was just a straight up shitty week, okay? His internet went down at home and he had to stay extra hours at work to finish the tasks he could do at home, not to mention that working for Ms. Maleficent might as well have been hell, it had started out great with a good starting wage and promises of promotion, but it had just gotten worse and worse, and with every passing day Riku could feel himself getting more angry with the world in general.

Then he gets a package in the mail. As Riku hauls it up to his apartment he wonders who would send him a package from a cheesy place like 'Bright Life INC' especially when his life feels anything but bright.

He opens the box spitefully to find an atrocious yellow sheet of paper on top of it's contents that read:

CONGRATULATIONS!

You, Riku Stalt, are the lucky recipient of your very first Bright Life INC package! This means that you have been signed up to receive a package twice a month for the next six months to help bring a little light into your life.

These packages contain a task that will remind you to take some time and spend some energy on yourself because you deserve it!

We here at BLI believe that there is a cure for a bad day at work! For your first package we have enclosed this cure and sincerely hope that it manages to brighten even your darkest workdays!

Riku's mind rushed through the short list of people in his life that would do something as cheesy and thoughtful? As to send him anonymous care packages. He pulled out the pale yellow tissue paper, wondering if every parcel would be as vibrant as this one, to find a carefully wrapped glass and plate that read milk and cookies respectively in gold cursive. At the very bottom of the box, underneath the dishes and more layers of yellow, there was an envelope holding the recipes for World Famous Double Chocolate Cookies as well as The Perfect Chocolate Milk.

Confused, touched, and a little put out, Rikue glanced over the ingredients on the recipe card and looked at the time. It was a Friday and he was pretty sure he had everything. And no one had to know.


It had taken all of Sora's will power to not simply drop the package off himself on Riku's doorstop, instead he didn't write a return address on the box and sent it through the post office. He had forgotten how long snail mail took because it had been just over a week and Sora had yet to see any change in Riku's behaviour or any sign that the box had shown up at all.

On Friday, of all days, Sora found himself pacing, wondering if it was a good idea at all, maybe Riku didn't like cookies? Maybe he was offended that someone thought he was unhappy enough to warrant impersonal care packages? Or maybe Riku just threw out the package. Sora couldn't stop thinking about it and just when he was sure he'd drive himself mad with this downward spiral of thought he swore he could smell his grandmother's cookies.

Grinning, Sora settled onto his couch and if he concentrated, he was certain he could hear soft singing coming from the other apartment.


A/N: Not the drabble I wanted to post but it's the only one I finished this week. (Sorry Sable. Not the drabble you need but the one you deserve)

-Reiver