Chapter six is up. I don't have any special notes about this one. Uh...it's a little longer than the rest. I think that's about it. As usual, I don't own any characters, so don't sue.

Over the next couple of days, Sora decided that Riku did not like his face.

Even though he didn't have the best track record for reaching conclusions thus far, this was the only one he could come up with to explain his roommate's behavior. Sure, Riku had never been one to look Sora in the eye, but these few days in particular, Riku had stopped looking at him entirely.

He knew it wasn't something he had said because Riku would carry on regular conversations with him without trouble. He even started chewing mint gum regularly just in case it was his breath.

Riku's eyes were practically part of the carpeting now, and Sora couldn't help but notice the slightly perplexed, slightly dispirited knit in his eyebrows every time he mentioned it.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Sora would ask.

"Nothing," Riku would answer, and then his brows would scrunch closer and closer together like he was trying to squeeze out better a better answer than he gave, but couldn't. Sora would try to continue the conversation for a bit, but in the end, he was either dismissed, or grumbled at until it died completely away.

Sora spent a morning painstakingly inspecting his face in the mirror after scrubbing it furiously in the shower. After a few moments of examination, he had discovered that he didn't have the same number of eyelashes on each eye, but there wasn't anything particularly disfavoring about his face. In fact, he was downright handsome. He had decided Riku just had a thing against beautiful people...or something.

Of course, his logic had a fair number of holes in it, but Sora was just about tired of trying to figure Riku out. Whatever problems the boy had, he could sort through them himself, and Sora would listen to them later.

This morning, Sora stumbled into the kitchen, barely clearing the doorway before collapsing into a chair. Behind him, the coffee pot was simmering, and Sora almost jumped at the sound of the hissing steam. After all, it had been a while since the device was safely brewing away on the counter. The rich smell of coffee permeated the air, and he felt himself slightly more invigorated...slightly.

In the background of the hissing machine, he heard pounding water from the bathroom. Riku was still in the shower, he supposed, but he didn't mind waiting for Riku to have the first cup. He owed him that much.

With a growl, he glanced about the kitchen for some object to catch his attention. He secretly hoped it would be the remote, but his luck was not running well these days, and his eyes instead fell upon a fairly daunting pile of garbage in the corner.

He remembered the trash can being white once, and perhaps it still was, underneath heap of rubbish; the byproduct of his vigorous cleaning the day before.

He had pushed past the pain of throwing away his precious belongings, (after all, who wouldn't feel upset after throwing away a prized magical fortune teller found after rummaging through a box of cereal nearly five years ago? These things were priceless).

But he had done it—and for Riku no less—with a stiff upper lip, and a heavy sense of determination. It would only add insult to injury to take the already maltreated objects outside.

But Riku was still in the shower.

And that coffee was starting to smell really good.

Sora groaned. He had to get his mind off the steadily percolating coffee pot, and he did want to have another look around the complex.

So, he peeled himself off the chair and gripped the edge of the plastic peeking out from underneath the garbage. He had an awful time trying to pull the awkward bulk from the tight, hard plastic of the trash can's frame, but he managed to get the pile onto the floor without tearing the bag.

He smiled.

Sora had taken the trash out many times at home, he thought, while tugging the bag along the carpet to the front door. His parents made him do it every Saturday morning—usually during his block of cartoon watching. He would heave the sack over his shoulder and put it at the edge of the driveway for the trash man.

Wedging the sack through the door frame, he headed out the door and down the hall to the elevator, where he faced an even greater challenge: maneuvering the bag through the uncooperative elevator door.

Twice he had to call the elevator back with the button, but the third time was the charm, and in a little under seven minutes, he was in the elevator, leaning against the wall and cursing the bag.

Riku had better be darned happy about this.

Riku, he thought absently, tugging the bag back up as it sank into itself. That guy had some issues.

Aside from his obvious eye problem, the boy was incapable of being stirred. He had never met anyone so...mild.

Back home, Sora couldn't remember anyone being nearly as passive as his white-haired roommate, even his parents when they ignored his deliberate attempts to rile them. Kairi was always excited about something, whether she was happy or otherwise. She was a kind girl, but her large personality kind of took up any space for any unneeded passiveness. Tidus and Wakka happened to be the same way, though they weren't particularly kind people...and that letter Kairi sent only supported his thoughts.

And Sora himself... well, he would go ahead and be honest. He wouldn't be winning any prizes for his patience and rationality any time soon...probably ever for that matter. He could describe himself with many words, but one of them would certainly not be mild. Riku could have it all to himself, he decided.

Then there was that maturity Riku somehow managed to carry so well. For a guy that didn't feel anything, he was pretty good at being an adult. Maybe staring at the floor for long periods of time was the answer Sora was looking for...

He shrugged.

The door opened, and he tumbled out with the trash bag barely clearing the door before it closed. He panted while sitting on the floor for a moment, wondering if it would be such a travesty to just leave the bag out there in the hallway. He sniffed and took the bag in his hands once again and headed out to the parking lot.

It was still early and the other members of the complex were leaving for work, he supposed. He waited for a little of the traffic to clear before heading out into the spacious lot, stumbling a little on the curb.

He considered phoning his parents today. He hadn't spoken to them much since his move other than the little check up calls they absolutely demanded he make each week. How proud they would be of their son, he thought smugly. Perhaps he wasn't as incapable he imagined everyone thought he was!

Sure, he couldn't find his own apartment, but he could darned sure take out some garbage.

And then it occurred to him.

There wasn't an "edge of the driveway."

Searching around frantically, he found no evidence of the flat concrete area on which to put his bag of garbage. What on earth was he supposed to do with it? He would feel really stupid going to the front desk to ask, and he couldn't go ask Riku. That would defeat the purpose of taking it out in the first place!

Grimacing at how ridiculous he suddenly felt, he hauled the bag behind a row of bushes, hoping someone would come out of the complex with similar intentions. He leaned against the side of the building, trying to appear casual—he wasn't sure how successful he was—and wished he had a cigarette.

He didn't smoke, but that's how they did things in the movies.

A few people exited, giving Sora strange looks as he waved, but no one seemed to be in the mood to take out the trash this morning. He wanted to pull out his hair.

It wasn't supposed to end this way! If only he had taken that cup of coffee this morning, he wouldn't be standing here trying to hide a pathetically obvious trash bag behind a row of bushes.

The door opened, and for a moment, Sora thought he was going to grab whoever it was and demand that they get their own bag of garbage to put wherever it was supposed to go so he could copy them, but the moment he turned around, a line of shock shot its way up his spine.

"Sora, what are you doing?"

"Oh...er...Riku. Hi."

His roommate was staring at him in that not-staring-at-him kind of way.

"Is that a trash bag behind the shrubs?"

"It's probably not a good idea to question me on this one."

Riku nodded his head slowly. "Well, when you're finished, the dumpsters are behind the building."

Sora crossed his arms indignantly. "I knew that, Riku."

"I figured."

There was something about the shy smile that crept along Riku's face that Sora disfavored. "I seriously knew that!" He crossed his arms and leaned against the building. "What kind of moron doesn't know where the dumpsters are? I mean, duh!"

Riku's smile grew. "One that hasn't been living here that long and doesn't bother to ask."

"Yeah well, I'd hate to be that poor guy."

"Right."

Sora fidgeted uncomfortably and coughed. "Don't you need to be at work or something?"

"Yes, I was just leaving. Do you need any—"

"No, I don't. Go."

Riku shrugged and headed down the walkway, and Sora waited until he was completely out of view before letting out a few choice words at the sky. He received more strange looks, but he didn't really care.

He had to be at work in a little while.

He yanked the trash bag up with his hand and dragged it behind the building to deposit.

So much for not being a moron.

XxX

"Hey, when you're done with those croissants, we need more profiteroles au chocolate. They're going like free money at a hobo convention!"

Riku's boss disappeared behind the door to the kitchen as it swung closed. He sighed, rolling the last of the dough out, and sprinkling it with flour. As he cut the dough into triangles and rolled them into croissants, his mind wandered to the upcoming visit from his father.

The letter was crumpled up on his night stand at home. Every morning when he woke up, he distinctly remembered throwing it away the night before. Somehow though, it was always back in the same spot; mocking him, tormenting him, stabbing him.

He mentally slapped himself. It was so unlike him to get worked up over a silly letter; a silly little visit from his father. He hadn't seen the man in years. He had probably changed so much he wouldn't even recognize him. Sora may have been right. All they probably needed was a little time to catch up; a little time to get to know each other again. He was older now; more sensible. They could talk about things he never understood when he was growing up. They could communicate on a much more mature level.

Perhaps he would even be allowed to look him in the eye.

With all the strength he could muster, he forced himself to smile.

It hurt much more than he thought possible.

Gingerly gathering up the croissants, he loaded them into the oven and headed to the freezer for the extra profiterole dough. There were plastic bags filled with every dough imaginable inside. Extra pie crusts, rolls, and puff pastry lined the bottom of the freezer, while the specialty dough rested in the storage compartments on the sides. Once, Riku had been bored enough to count how many different bags there were and it still surprised him today. He picked through the lot for a moment, then produced the bag he was searching for. While it unthawed, he hunted around for the semi-sweet chocolate.

He wondered what his mother would think. She and his father had been divorced for a number of years now, but he wondered if his father was going to visit her as well. Riku himself hadn't spoken to his mother in several years either—partly because she left him and partly because he hadn't bothered to contact her.

He could still remember the bitter look in his father's eyes when he found that note on the table.

Sure, she had written the two of them some months after her departure. She even left a return address on her envelope. Once or twice she even invited the two of them to her new house to talk, and sort things out properly. Neither he nor his father accepted the invitations, but they wrote back until the letters stopped coming, and they just stopped caring.

He shook his head. His mother was not the issue here. It was his father that he was concerned about, and thinking about his mother was just method to keep his thoughts otherwise occupied.

After shaving off enough chocolate to fill a glass bowl, he set it on top of a pan of boiling water.

Behind him, the door swung open and his boss poked his head in. "Are those coming out soon? We've got people to feed out here!"

Riku nodded. He almost chuckled at how ridiculous he felt. He was not going to stand there and harp on the past. This was his life now. He did have people to feed. He would not allow his parents, especially his father ruin what he had taken years to make for himself. He shoved a whisk into the chocolate and began to stir in some cream.

He felt sicker.

XxX

Riku hung his apron onto the rack and headed out to the front of the café. A dull ache was clouding his being, but he tried to ignore it. His boss was calculating the day's earnings at the cash register, while another employee was dutifully sweeping up pastry crumbs and napkins.

"See you tomorrow." Riku called over his shoulder, heading for the door. His boss looked up from the cash register.

"Hey, you requested off for the day after tomorrow, right?"

Riku felt his blood run cold and a frightening pang of something in his chest. Swallowing hard, he pressed his fingers against the glass of the door. "Right," he muttered.

"Okay. Just making sure. Roxas, you're filling in!" The boy sweeping up tried to contain an eye roll.

"Yes sir."

"Good lad. Goodnight Riku."

He barely nodded in response, pushed the door open and headed down the street.

Thanks for reading. The next chapter will be up shortly.