A/N: I graduated from high school four days ago :D
This is going to be a two-shots. And I bet that part two is gonna be twice as long. sigh.
C H E A T E R , C H E A T E R
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PART I
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It's always the same thing that happens as he gets out of bed. It starts with his usual mantra drilling itself into his head (I'm not doing anything wrong), followed by the disinterest, denial, and coldness. The guilt comes later.
He glances at the girl sprawled across the bed as he puts his pants on, knowing she's only faking it. He actually likes her; she's not some mindless slut. Quite the contrary. But he's not really sure why he feels attracted to her. She's got beauty, brains, personality, but the truth is he doesn't want a relationship with her.
He's glad she doesn't attempt to stop him as he exits the room, grabs his keys and wallet resting on the kitchen table, and storms out of the apartment. He doesn't bother to be quiet; she's awake after all.
The walk to the bus stop feels like an eternity because he's annoyed at his car for breaking down a week ago and at his friend for borrowing his bike for some kind of road trip. If her apartment wasn't so far from his own he would walk the distance, but as it is the walk would take him at least fifty minutes. It's late by now --past midnight. He makes the effort of speeding up since the last bus in this area will be there in five minutes. If he misses it, he's screwed.
He makes it right on time and hops in the vehicle. It's almost empty. There's a couple near the end --mid-forties-- the driver, and him. He loathes empty buses and crowds.
He takes a seat closer to the front than to the middle, knowing he'll be home soon enough. He reaches down to his pant pocket for his cell phone, only to discover that it's not there. He lets out a frustrated groan. He prays he left it at his apartment, not hers since he doesn't plan on returning for a while.
He gets down two stops after the couple. Sleepiness takes hold of his body as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment, silently this time. The door creaks as he opens it, and the sound makes him wince. It seems much louder in the dark.
The first thing he looks for is his phone. He sighs in relief when he spots it on the coffee table. He decides he'll look at it later. He knows he'll sleep on the couch tonight. Dragging his feet he slowly enters the bedroom. His eyes automatically find her sleeping form. That's when the guilt kicks in.
Sometimes he feels nauseous, but not tonight. Tonight he's just drained, ready to fall asleep for a couple of centuries. He makes his way to the bed, reaches out to caress her cheek, thinks better of it; instead he brings the comforter up to her chin so she won't freeze.
When he comes out of the room he practically throws his body on the couch. He's reminded of his cell phone as he kicks off his shoes. He hates flipping it open and finding messages and missed calls from his girlfriend, wondering if he'll be home for dinner. He never quite knows what to say to her; he usually pretends he doesn't know.
This time there's a note sitting besides his phone. He squints at the paper, trying to read with weak light filtering through the blinds.
Cloud,
There are some leftovers in the fridge. It's your favorite.
Tifa
His eyes involuntarily close, and he crumples the piece of paper before letting it fall to the ground. It's a shame he's not hungry. After this, he's not sure he can handle the cell phone. She probably didn't leave him any messages. It's true that recently she stopped calling him. He's not sure if he likes this any better.
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Cloud wakes up to a bright Saturday morning. There's a quilt half-covering him; he wants to smile at the attention but ends up grimacing. He doesn't immediately move, waiting to see if Tifa left. The only sound is his breathing.
"Great," he mumbles.
Most of the time he wishes he weren't so stupid and would gather some courage and talk to her. It's been a long, long time since they really talked. They're both busy with their jobs and friends. When he started working longer shifts to avoid her, she busied herself with more work to fill her time. One big vicious circle.
She's usually there in the mornings to eat breakfast with him even though they barely speak a word. To him it feels as though they're complete strangers. But, damn, he loves that woman, and he doesn't understand how it went downhill. He guesses he's too much of a coward to apologize and accept his mistakes. She's probably too afraid to confront him. Every time they attempt to discuss about serious matters they argue. He knows they're both tired of it.
He glances at the clock hanging on the wall and sits up straight when he sees it's over one in the afternoon. He slept that much? No wonder she's not here anymore.
Just as he's about to head for the bathroom his phone rings. Called ID tells him it's Teef, and he's taken by a sudden urge not to answer or destroy the annoying, noisy device. But he answers with a curt "Yeah?"
"Hey." He can hear the surprise.
He bites his lip. Fuck. He didn't mean to snap at her.
He clears his throat. His mouth opens and closes; he looks like a fish. All his ideas of conversation starter are merely polite or extremely distant. She's his girlfriend; words should naturally come to him.
"What's up?" He says lamely.
There's a distinct pause. He can tell he's not going to like this.
"My parents just invited us for dinner tonight."
He was right. Tifa's parents are nice people and agreeable to be around, but right now isn't the time for a family dinner. He's not certain he will be able to keep the happy couple façade all night.
"Yeah?" Damn it, why can't he be more articulate?
"Fancy restaurant, then we go at their house."
"What time?"
"Be ready at six. Try not to be late."
He feels as though he should take offense to that. Irritation rises up but he calms down. Her voice is so matter-of-fact he knows she's not reproachful; he's often late to dinners.
"Is there a special occasion?"
When she doesn't answer he knows he just said the wrong thing.
"It's my Dad's birthday next week, Cloud. He and Mom are leaving Tuesday to travel."
How can he have forgotten that? He's known Mr. Lockheart for years.
"Sorry, Teef. I just…" He passes a hand over his face and sighs. "Do I have to go buy a present?"
"Are you kidding me? No, you don't."
He's stunned when he hears the dial tone. He tosses his phone on the table, but he misses and it hits the carpeted floor. He doesn't pick it up.
While he takes his shower, changes clothes, eats some lunch, he ponders her reaction to his last comment. Surely it shouldn't be a big deal if he asks about buying a present? Realization hits him as he's doing the dishes. He, Tifa, and her mom put their money together to offer Mr. Lockheart his dream vacation. Now he feels stupid.
It's a long wait until she returns to change for the dinner. He's not bored enough to go down at the mechanics shop to work on his day off. He used to study pre-law but he dropped out after the first year when his mom died six years ago. He didn't want to study anymore. But he's happy with his job now; he knows he won't do it his whole life.
He changes into a white button-up shirt and black slacks. He slips a dark blue tie around his neck and tries to tie it correctly. Tifa normally does this for him. He does his best to comb his messy hair but it proves useless. It's five by now. He lets out a sigh. They used to do almost everything together; he doesn't have a clue how to entertain himself. He sits at the computer and checks his mail. He never really did like computers or technology in general. Neither does she. They keep one because it's useful, and rarely turn it on.
He puts on some music to destroy the oppressive silence that's taken over the room. Cloud doesn't consider himself a people person by definition, but he can't stand being alone all the time. The past couple of months were very lonely.
Perhaps he can write her an e-mail or a letter. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbow and begins to type.
Teef,
What to say, what to say… The simpler, the better.
I'm sorry. I'm a jerk. I love you.
He thinks he should hit send right now because he has no more inspiration. And because he believes that sometimes just saying sorry is better than nothing.
He adds his name at the end. He sends the message before he loses his nerve.
It's nearing six when Tifa enters the apartment in a hurry, making a dash for their bedroom. She hates being late.
Cloud silently watches her as she plugs the curling iron and sorts through her wardrobe. She doesn't have that much clothes, but she loves dresses. He smiles a little at the thought of her panicking over what to wear.
He's disappointed when she doesn't fuss and he can see that's she's hesitating. He decides to help.
"I really love the green one," he says quietly.
He notices her back tense, then relax. She pulls an emerald green cocktail dress out of the closet, whirling around to face him. She doesn't meet his eyes. But that's fine, he tells himself, because he does not dare to meet hers, too.
"This one?"
He nods. She nods. "Alright," she says softly.
She slips into the dress, then goes to fetch her heels. He loves how she doesn't take long to prepare herself and still look magnificent. Her hair and makeup are done swiftly but neatly, and fifteen minutes later they're heading for the restaurant. It's a ten minutes walk.
Cloud catches their reflection in a closed shop's window. They truly look good together. He's not that tall and she's the same height as him with her heels. She's a beauty and he's quite handsome, too. He's a blond with blues eyes; she's got dark brown --bordering on black-- hair and chocolate eyes. All that's missing is the happy, I'm-in-love expression on their gloomy faces.
He wonders if she still loves him.
They always eat at the same restaurant when they go out with Tifa's parents. Cloud likes the food they serve but he's starting to dislike the place. Pretending is not his forte, mainly because he hates it, and tonight is going to be heavy with pretence.