Ain't Worth The Whiskey (Levi X Cheater!Reader)

~A/N: Listen As You Read! www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9Mtim…
There is also slight sexual content, or the mention of sexual actions. Don't like it? Don't read it!~











What a putrid, fetid stench there was that practically drenched the desolate bar with its heavy air, suffocating every living being that dared step foot into the foundation without immediately turning and exiting. One man in particular, seemed to stand out from the other few lonely drunks loitering about the small establishment with slurred words and groggy voices. His midnight suit was a major difference from the frayed and stained clothing the other men wore, and the way his onyx-raven hair was slicked back with the exception of a few loose rebellious strands seemed far more professional than the tousled mops of the other men. And yet, this man out of all others seemed to have the most purpose to be in the wretched building, and at the same time, no purpose at all. His ashen silver hues were glazed over as he sat in meditation, absentmindedly taking uninterested sips of his whiskey every few seconds or so.

Dragging his tongue lazily over his moist lips, he savored the last few droplets of the alcoholic substance clinging to his skin, as he pushed the empty glass away from his hunched over figure, crossing his arms and resting his head atop them as he allowed his mind to meld over his complex thoughts.







Was he simply not good enough for her? Had he not given her everything she wanted, besides all the affection he was unable to conjure up even from the most romantic part of his mind? What had he done wrong to send her running into the arms of another man? And not just any other man, but his somewhat close friend and boss at work. How'd he be able to look him in the eye without having the impulse to collide his fist with his face, and to have the thought send a tingling sensation crawling into the tips of his fingers? How ironic it was for her to "have no idea" who the man was. How she "didn't mean to", how she was "just testing" him to see if his love was real. Meanwhile, he began questioning her love for him, especially when he walked in with her nails scraping against the blonde's back and her legs wrapped about his bare torso and he pounded recklessly into her.

Yet, a small little voice in the back of his head seemed to worm its way to the front, profusely screeching, "Don't let it get to you!" With a sigh, he began the daily ritual of encouraging himself before he awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache and his love for her pulsing in his veins. If she didn't love him enough to stay, why should he love her enough to care? Was he simply drinking away his sorrows, such as all the other men wallowing in the ramshackle bar? Of course not. She wasn't worth his limited time. She wasn't worth his unconditional love. She wasn't worth his precious and savory whiskey.

And with a smirk adorning his peach-tinted lips, he raised his hand and pointed to the empty glass by his side, knocking on the hard wood with his other fist to grab the attention of the man behind the counter.

"Another round, bartender."