Lie
There is no set genre... it kind of combines them all. And I'm not going to list the pairing... it'll defy the whole purpose of the fic.
Rated for a little course language and suggestive themes.
Warning: OC point of view. Her name's Alexis. Humor. Unabashed humor and mental torture of an OC. And other things I simply can't list, because it'll ruin the story!
Disclaimer: Is this necessary? I own dust bunnies... and that's it!
Read and Review Please! This is just to keep my writing skills sharp while my muse tries to get a clueless Wufei to get a clue for Frayed Edges. Enjoy!
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I think I love my boyfriend. I mean, what girl wouldn't? He's kind, sweet, strong. And handsome. Well, handsome in a 'cute' kind of way, at least. Blond hair that's just a tad on the shaggy side, but close enough to tame to keep close to his image as a well-to-do business man. Blue eyes the color of Aquamarine stones. He's petite, only an inch taller than me, and slender along with it. And his face... it's like some kind of angel.
At least that's what I think, anyway. He's always doing small little romantic things. Sweet little letters left in my purse, on my refrigerator... and one time, I even found one on the bathroom mirror after I'd taken a shower. After three years of being with him, I still love those little things. The letters, the short simple notes. The flowers at odd times... 'just because'. The surprise dinners. Skipping a meeting just to come steal a kiss.
Like I said... who wouldn't love Quatre Raberba Winner? I had to be the luckiest girl alive.
Today, I'm at his house. I came over at seven yesterday night. It's a Saturday. My day off. He was called to the office, and left me dozing peacefully in bed. I awoke happy... and I awoke with an urge to clean. For no reason whatsoever. Quatre's a pretty neat, tidy sort, but he refuses to hire a maid to clean his cozy little penthouse. So, there is cleaning to be done, but thankfully it's not hard. I scrub the bathroom down... even going so far as to clean the toilet. I straighten the living room, dust the furniture. I vacuum. I wash what little dishes there are... two tea cups and saucers, and a plate that had once held scones. I mop the floor after I sweep it. I take out the trash. All the usual things... and then, I tackle the bedroom.
Not too much to do here. I change the bedsheets, and replace them, making the bed. I start to load the old sheets up to toss them into the washer when I notice that the dirty clothes hamper is almost full. Shifting my burden, I grab up the clothes basket too.
Over an hour later, I stand, folding clothes. I used to work summers at a department store, so my clothes folding skills are unsurpassable. One stack of his pants. One stack of his shirts. One stack of socks and boxers. One stack of my few articles that have somehow found there way there.
And that's when it catches my eye. It's pink and lacy. I pluck it from the basket and held it up. I almost smile, thinking that they're mine, but then I frown. I'm not a pink kind of person. And certainly not a lacy kind of person. I have approximately two articles of pink undergarments. One is lacey, but it is a sexy little teddy that Quatre bought me two months ago for Valentines day. And the other is a pair of underwear. Not lacy. Plain and serviceable like the majority of my undergarments... and I'm pretty sure I'm wearing them now. For my peace of mind, I check quickly to affirm that I *am* wearing pink panties.
Now.. who? How? My mind starts to race my world starts to tilt. No, no, no. I push thosethoughts away. Quatre was not the kind to cheat. There had to be a perfectly logical, reasonable reason. Maybe... maybe they were his sister's. Iria had spent a few nights last week. Maybe some of her clothes just got left in the dryer by mistake. Yes... that had to be it, I reasoned with myself.
But was Iria really the lacy, pink thong kind of woman, a little voice pipped up in the back of my mind. And the answer was no. Iria would not be caught dead in pink.
Then there is another explanation. Hilde and Duo house-sitted three weeks ago while Quatre and I spent the weekend out of town. But again... Hilde wasn't a pink kind of person.
There has to be another explanation, but my mind keeps coming up blank, and those thoughts keep closing in. I push them back again, and make up my mind. I hold the panties out, and continue folding clothes. Quatre would be home in a few hours. He would have an explanation.
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I'm sitting on the livingroom chair when the front door opens and Quatre's smiling face beams at me. I can't find it in myself to smile back.
"Quatre," I begin, "I'm not accusing you of anything... but I really would like an explanation."
His smile falters.
"Alexis? What's wrong?"
I flex my fingers, then hold up my hand so that he can see what's in my hand. A racy and lacy bright pink thong.
His eyes go wide, and he gasps, startled speechless. Not a reaction that makes me feel better.
"Quatre... I cleaned the apartment today... And I found these in the dirty clothes. There not mine. And I doubt that their Iria's, either. I... I'd like an explanation."
He's just standing there, his eyes shadowed. Slowly, he starts...
"Lexi, it's not what you think."
My heart shatters in my chest. Nothing good ever comes of those words. Nothing good ever follows, because it almost always *is* what you think.
"Quatre... Please tell me. Is there another woman?"
I trust him... I know him. He would not lie if I asked him straight out.
He frowns. "No. There is no other woman." His voice was soft. A flush begins to tint his skin, and I feel my shattered heart sink. His words were no comfort to me. I could feel the guilt emanating from him, even if his words were spoken like the truth.
"Then tell me, Quatre. I have to know."
His mouth moves, but no words come out. Is it that horrible? I prepare myself, hoping, praying that it's something stupid and simple, and perfectly reasonable.
"Lexi... I'm so, so sorry." He kneels on the floor in front of me, pleading with those liquid blue eyes. He grasps my hands in his, oblivious to the lace. "Lexi... There is no other woman. Believe me." He hold up the thong, his blush deepening. "These... These... they're mine."
I think my heart stopped beating. I think my breath stopped for a moment or two. This is so not what I had thought. This is so...
"Yours?" I squeak. I know my brown eyes are wide, and I think that my mouth might be hanging open. He buries his head in my lap, and he gently kisses my hand.
"Lexi... Lexi, I'm so sorry. I... I've... I've been having sex with someone else. Oh, Lexi I'm so sorry." He sobs into my knees. I stand up abruptly. Why... Why... How could he?!?
"No other woman? A lie," I snort, turning to leave out the door he just came in.
He was on his feet, scrambling after me, grabbing my hand.
"No. I didn't lie. I said there was no other woman. And I meant it. Lexi... I'm sleeping with Trowa."
My feet slip out from under me, and only his arms keep me from falling flat on my face. Trowa? But...
"Quatre!" I jerk away from him, nearly falling again, but propping myself up on the wall. He steps back, lowers his head. I can see the sheen of tears in his eyes. Our entire conversation wells up and washes back over me. No other woman. He had been telling the truth. And the panties... were his?
I shake my head. It hurts. I lean back against the wall heavily, let gravity slid me down until I'm sitting on the floor.
"This is wrong," I murmur. "This isn't how it's all supposed to turn out." I look up at him, his tears now mirrored in my eyes. "Quatre... why? how? Am I not... I thought you loved me?"
The letters, the flowers, the candlelight dinners... the long, loving nights in bed.
Lies. Every one of them a lie.
"I do... God, I do love you. Lexi, I'm so sorry. Ever since the war... Trowa's always been my friend. But I gave up on loving him.... and then I met you. You... you showed me how to love again. I... I've been sleeping with him since last November- the Thanksgiving party."
I let out a quiet sob. Almost five months. Five months. A lie. Gone. Wasted. A lie.
"Quatre... how could you do this to me?" I meet his eyes, to let him see the pain and hurt. I know he can feel it, the pain he's caused me.
"Lexi... I'm so sorry."
"Damn you, Quatre Winner."
I stand up, and I silently leave the apartment, leaving him alone. 'I'm so sorry', he said. Like that washes it away. He's sorry. So am I. Now, I know just how much I love my boyfriend.
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It's been three months now. Three months since the day my life was ruined... the day I found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me... with a man. Some people say I shouldn't be surprised.
I always knew he and the silent circus performer were close. I knew they had history. And I knew that the clown had one hell of a body... a body anyone could be attracted to.
And I knew how anyone could love Quatre. And Quatre did wear pink shirts alot...
But it was still a shock. For the next week afterwards, I had nightmares. Horrible nightmares about Quatre being with... being with him.I'm telling you, there is nothing worse than dreaming about your boyfriend... ex-boyfriend... wearing a pink, lacy thong and being fucked by some silent, broody clown.
Yeah... nightmares.
But I slowly got over it. It took me a while. But I'm coping. I still actively avoid Quatre at all costs. He and Trowa came by once, to try to apologize, to make amends... but I'm still not ready for that. Forgiveness is still far off for those two... even if I have to admit that they make a cute couple. I still avoid them. I still evade questions from those clueless friends and family as to the nature of our breakup. I still avoid the place where we had our first kiss. And I still won't go to that beach where we first made love. And I still avoid the crowds we used to hang out with.
And most importantly... I avoid lacey, pink, skimpy underwear.
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Kandice: Oh, wow. Sorry. I couldn't resist! I normally don't go for Quatre crossdressing... but OMG, this was too good a plot bunny to pass up. And anyway, you'll never see me write Quatre with anyone but Trowa.
Hope you liked, let me know what you thought!