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It was just another normal morning.
No more sneaking or running around, no microwave corridors or Metal Gears or government conspiracies. They'd been living normally - or at least as normally as an engineer, retired super soldier, and child prodigy turned housemates could manage.
Out of force of habit, Snake still woke up at dawn and made his own food. Whether it was because he wasn't too keen on braving Sunny's cooking or because no one would eat his food because, no matter what, it ended up with an aftertaste of cigarette ash, he never admitted. He could never shake his soldier's mentality, though he tried his best to stay out of trouble. He was still stubborn as hell, adamantly refusing to be put into care despite his condition.
"I'm not an old man, Hal! I just look like one."
Otacon wasn't sure a home would be able to handle him anyhow.
Sometimes Snake didn't wake up early, but if it was because of his aging body or because he was gradually getting used to civilian life, Otacon didn't know.
This morning was one of those mornings, and Otacon was somewhat pleased to find that there was no disgruntled Snake sitting in the kitchen to greet him while poking at a plate of eggs.
A tired-looking Sunny joined him, mumbling something about making eggs and pancakes. Otacon stepped back and let her have free reign over the stove - the last time he'd startled her while cooking, she'd flipped a hot pan into his face, and he had no want to replicate that.
A pan of lightly burned eggs and a stack of somewhat undercooked pancakes later, Sunny put Snake's portion onto a tray before fetching a small vase and a sprig of baby's breath growing on the windowsill.
"David's sleeping in, huh, Hal?" She said brightly, heading towards the bedrooms of the house.
"Sure looks like it." Otacon gratuitously took his own share, noting that the eggs were mostly edible today.
He sat there listening to the hum of the oven cooling down and the muffled sounds of birds outside.
And then he heard Sunny drop the tray, plates shattering and silverware clattering across the floor.
"Hal! He's not waking up!"
He could hear the panic in her little voice, and immediately he stood, banging his knees against the table and knocking his chair backwards. Otacon ran down the hallway, skidding across the floor as he turned sharply into Snake's room at the end of the hall.
Sunny stood a few feet from the bed, hands over her mouth, remnants of the tray's contents scattered all over the floor. She glanced at Otacon, eyes wide.
Otacon crossed the room, kneeling next to the bed and putting a hand over Snake's chest. There was no rise and fall of breathing, no heartbeat underneath his palm.
"S...Snake?"
He'd always pictured the old soldier growling a few last words, smoking a last cigarette. He was never the type that wanted to slip away too peacefully - he had to leave something in his wake.
"Snake?"
He repeated himself, fully expecting his friend to sit up and mutter something abrasive about waking him up. He didn't. He lay there, all actions ceased, all thought gone.
Otacon was grasping at the last few dregs of hope that this was just a bad dream, or a joke. But it wasn't.
The tears came faster than they ever had before, and he didn't even care that he was a sobbing mess in front of Sunny.
One of his only friends was dead. For good this time.
"SNAAAAAAKE!"