These drabbles contain slash between Roxas and Sora. If this offends you, please turn back now. I respect any desires not to read such material and wish no offense; therefore, you have been warned about the potentially offensive content of this story. Thanks for your understanding! Comments are still love.


7: Cheater

Genre: Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: Roxas/Sora, Roxas/OC
Warnings: Adultery, nudity

Definitions
Cheater: 1. Informal for cheat, someone who commits the act of cheating.


Cheater. Cheater. Cheater.

The words are ringing through my head and I can't get them out. Sitting on the edge of my bathtub, I try to stop my hands from shaking and the tears from leaking out of the corner of my eyes.

I do not cry. Crying is weak.

I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. My blonde hair is mussed up from rubbing against the pillow in my bed; my cheeks are still slightly flushed. I carefully avoid looking in my eyes, and pause to observe my other features. Lips, red and swollen from the force of her own pair crushing against them. My gaze moves down to my neck and I see a dark red bruise forming on the right side. Love bites are supposed to be what the name says: a mark that someone's left on you from physical love. And this? Love? Hell, this isn't even what someone could remotely call attraction, let alone love. She was just… something. Nothing.

I finally gather the courage to look myself in the eyes. They're the same shape and the same shade of blue as they've always been, but still something's different. My eyes look just like I feel: empty and cold. I can feel tears burning behind them, and my insides scream to let them out. I refuse to, I've done nothing wrong, I've simply repaid the wrongs done upon me.

He deserved it. I did nothing wrong.

I repeat the words in my head; a desperate mantra to justify my actions to myself. But then my mind starts overflowing in memories of the last half-hour, and suddenly I feel sick.

I barely make it to the toilet in time. The moment that my knees hit the cold floor, I'm retching for what seems like an eternity. When my stomach is finally empty of all its contents, I sit on the floor and dry-heave for a moment. By the time I'm sure that my legs will hold me up, I realise that I've been gone for quite a long time, much longer than it would take to just get a painkiller, which is what I told her that I'm doing. I stand up and make my way to the sink with slightly trembling legs and rinse my mouth, the sharp bite of alcohol in the mouthwash clearing my head a bit.

When I enter the room again, the dark-haired girl raises her brows slightly and has the nerve to look concerned as she lifts her head from the pillow, the action causing the blanket to slide down a bit and reveal a pair of round, average-sized breasts with large nipples. I look away, I don't want to see her.

Cheater.

"You all right?" she asks, looking like she's debating whether or not to sit up.

"I'm fine," I reply icily, trying desperately not to sound as ill as I feel inside. I slump down on the second bed in my room; I can see that she's surprised – disappointed? – that I don't lie down next to her. I can't even muster up the energy to care. I don't want her, with her seductive smiles and looks like she wants to spend every minute of my life with me. What I want is what I already have, though never completely: something that can never be tamed, can never be owned. A person so sweet and beautiful that when I first saw him, I thought he was an angel straight from heaven. He does what he wants, with whoever he wants. Though I already am with him, I can never have him, but as long as I'm with him, I could never even imagine lusting for that woman currently occupying my bed. It would break his heart.

Cheater. Cheater. Cheater.

I turn to face away from the other bed and cry silently.