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Half-Eaten

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For a week it sat there, unnoticed. A half-eaten piece of bread, not toasted, nothing on it, solitary and somewhat sad. A meal just as plain and unimportant as the one who’d been eating it before he was sent out with an impossible task.

When Saïx finally noticed it, he almost felt sad to see it there, even though he did not miss the one who had left it behind. Heaving a sigh, the man stepped forward, figuring he best clear it away before it grew any mold. He couldn’t be too upset over the mess though, all things considered. No sense feeling angry over something the dead left behind.

Grimacing, he crouched and gathered up the bread and crumbs, noticing then that the paltry meal had been sitting on a half composed piece of music. For a moment he stared at it, puzzling over the notes hastily sketched onto the page. He wondered what Demyx must’ve been hearing in his final hours, and he wondered if Demyx might’ve known he’d been composing his swan song.

His brow creased. There was no title here, just notes on a page, and it bothered Saïx to no end that he’d never know the tune. A final annoyance, he thought, as he scooped the papers into his arms, and, of all things, his lips curled into a wistful smile.

Isn’t that just like him?