So, I feel like writing angst. Not your normal angst, but the sarcastic kind of angst where the character is so pessimistic that everything seems bitter and sarcastic. Yeah. I probably wont, but whatever.

It'll be RoxasSora probably. Unless I change my mind – which has never happened in a fic. Yeah, here's the first chapter. I might change POV's eventually.

Enjoy.

Uncage the Car Alarms
I swear to god I was only kidding…
about everything.

What's so wonderful about Mondays?

Maybe, just maybe, you'd get to start a fresh, new exciting day filled with announcements and candy – the best kind – the lady kind.

I'd always thought I'd wanted the lady kind, but now as I finally received the candy, I'm filled with a horrible sense of dread. It was like the candy I'd received was expired or just plain nasty. I'd bit my lip angrily before yanking my hand off of the thinnest thigh I think I'd ever see.

I'd always thought…

That it was the only way.

But, on a Monday, what the hell was it the only way for? This candy was more annoying tasting then enjoyable – so was that the way?

So, eventually, I began hanging out with girls. There was a difference between them and guys – when you hung out with other guys, you just bummed out in front of a television or played a bogus version of football where you always lost somehow and losing was always your fault. The girls wouldn't hang out with me, though; they'd hang on to me like I was their lifeline, their thin hands clasped around my upper forearm.

And then they began making up this boyfriend crap. I was not one of their boyfriends. I wasn't a boyfriend in general.

All because on that Monday, I'd touched one of their friend's thighs.

Apparently, they were a group of girls that somehow always wanted me. So, I became known as the group's boyfriend.

…What the hell did that even mean?

I'd even asked one of the girls – the tallest of the group, the sporty one who constantly tried to bed me.

Eventually, I began piecing things together.

First, I wasn't their boyfriend. They wanted me to get a boyfriend. Second, the reason they went shopping with me was because I agreed to – I secretly enjoyed it. Third, they thought I was cute.

But I was not gay.

«-- procedure.

So the first thing I would do everyday is, of course, stress vomit.

I'd wake up, and my stomach would clench. It basically would scream at me, back down, fucker. And then, what ever I'd eaten for dinner would back up and tear out of my mouth, spilling into water.

That's when I became sick. My mind would churn, the words on my assignments would blur together, and my pencil would be some imaginary thing that was impossible to hold onto. My body would break out into a sweat, and it all started after second period.

Oh, of course, my ex-best friend. He'd grown up, while I'd grown down. He'd risen to the top, with his amazing grades, and his amazing looks. He was just full of charm, and damn, I wanted a piece of it. I told him how jealous I was, right before the summer where he went away.

Yeah, he went away in the summer. He went to some camps when I chilled out at home, and that's when I realized that popularity does get to some people. All the phone conversations we had all ended up being about him, he never, ever did his homework anymore, he began hanging out with the girls that wore earrings bigger than their heads, and he began wearing nice clothes.

I felt a little trapped.

So, when ever I was trapped in the room with him as my lab partner in second period, I'd promptly walk out of the room and puke in the boy's room.

It became part of a routine. Talk to him, go to class, vomit your food.

That's when the girls I hung out with began noticing me becoming sicker.

After awhile, my vomiting became more frequent, like the demons gnawing at my stomach needed to be expelled more often. When I'd look into the mirror, the cheerful little boy that used to be there was replaced by a teenaged kid that looked a bit too pale to be healthy.

And, damn, did I pull off that image good. When I'd walk into my tan and red-themed in-suite bathroom (my mom insisted the colors go together), I'd look in the mirror to inspect the damage. My cheekbones look prominent, like skin was slapped onto a skull. My eyes had dulled from their past exuberant cerulean color to a boring, plain, dead blue.

My bronze skin looked more like off-white. Sometimes, I'd look in the mirror and the vomit would come out faster.

I didn't choose to vomit, it just happened. I wasn't sure when, or how, but suddenly my legs would be moving at high-speeds towards somewhere – anywhere and then my head would be over a toilet-bowl, my back arched and the food burning my throat on it's way up.

One of the girls I hung out with, Kairi, walked in on me vomiting once. She was there for dinner – we had a project that we had been partners for. So, when it came time to actually eat dinner, my stomach felt tiny. I mean, it felt constricted – like it was a tiny little thing that wouldn't be able to do it. I was really weak feeling, like my stomach was fragile, and as soon as I even attempted to put food in it, it'd be rejected – like a rash on your skin. That meant part of your body rejected it – but my stomach rejected food.

Taking walks outside and walking past vendors and Starbucks and convenience shops – became painful. I'd smell the food, and it would only be a painful reminder of how weak I was, and how I wasn't able to eat something like that.

And, my god, it was more painful receiving pity.

Kairi was by my side, after I'd attempted to bite into my pizza, and I just hurled it back up. She was patting my back, looking entirely scared. I wanted to push her out, and tell her, no, this is my thing to work on – all by myself.

I'd done a good job of hiding it. I'd pretend I'd eaten, and when I did and I would vomit it, it would be in my private bathroom. My mom never suspected a thing.

But, when someone broke that little barrier – the little bit of safety you had – it was a terrible feeling. I wiped the bottom of my mouth and flushed the toilet, watching as she brought a hand to her mouth.

I finally spoke up.

"I think… I'm depressed."

«-- precipitation.

Did you hear about it? Kairi said that Sora's depressed.

They whispered it around me like it was some kind of disease. I, actually, wouldn't mind if they discussed it aloud. I mean, why would I? Aren't I depressed?

I cleared my throat, slamming my fist on the lunch table. A tall one turned around to look down at me, honey brown locks framing her face. What was the term? A sight for sore eyes? She was one of those.

Aerith – she was the one who everyone looked up to. She smiled happily, pink lips forming one of those full, infectious smiles. I had immunity to infectious smiles, though.

I had to remind myself. You weren't always this way. You just weren't good enough to keep your best friend. You weren't popular enough. You weren't pretty enough. You weren't athletic enough. You weren't cool enough. You weren't smart enough. You didn't have any charm.

And, maybe, just maybe, I may or may not have caught myself staring at boys.

It was like, when they accused me of being gay, I began to believe it.

It was like a parasite in the back of my mind, growing and eating at my brain. It was like… spreading gayness to the rest of my body. It was slowly morphing me into a homosexual… or something.

The first one that triggered this was a boy I'd seen on one of the walks I went on.

«-- continuation.

Okay, for some, walking is just a calming thing.

Unfortunately, when ever I walked it had to be eventful – I really didn't want it to be eventful. Because then I'd get mad and vomit even more and possibly have to go to a therapist.

I was absolutely not going to a shrink.

I didn't need them prying into my life, trying to help me. Yeah, that'd help, actually discussing my problems. Why would that help? So I can acknowledge them? I didn't even know what was making me feel this way.

I must've been pretty pathetic – I was depressed for no reason. How lame.

Okay, off the topic of therapists, I actually decided to go on a walk. One of the girls I talked to suggested it – whatever. I didn't really talk to her that much, so when she finally decided to care about me, I took it into consideration.

So, of course, the first thing that happened when I reached the end of the block was zone out and then knocked in the leg by a skateboard. My eyes traveled down to the evil abomination of a skateboard, and I was pretty sure my lips had twisted into a scowl.

Or knowing my facial expressions, probably a babyish pout.

I looked up at the stupid kid who had let their skateboard run into my leg, just before I decided to finally cross the street and continue my walk.

I'd never seen eyes like that before.

I mean, I'd seen those dazzling blue eyes, but I'd never seen such intense blue eyes before. They were placed on an amazingly perfect face, with the smoothest looking bronze skin and blonde hair in disarray, contrasting the skin color.

I looked away and darted across the street.

The world seemed a bit warmer.

A/N:

It's obvious who the main character is.
Am I right?

REVIEW PLEASE.
I'll love you forever.

Plus, I'll update sooner.