Title: OCD
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Rated: PG-13
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Notes: I'm American. I know schools in England are not the same as in America, but in this they are. I'll try to make it as "British" as possible, but it won't be perfect.
***2023 update: i wrote this thinking i did not have ocd. ten years later, turns out i do in fact have ocd. funny how life works.***
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Warnings: Self harm, OCD and language. May be triggering to some (like seriously pls dont read if youre triggered by self harm) and btw, theres no smut
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Cover by: @Nialler1220 :)
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[Harry's POV]
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Nothing could be out of place. The voices didn't like that. Always obey the voices, always.
Every pencil, every book, everything had to be symmetrical. It had to be organized. I had to turn off and on the lights more than normal before I could allow myself to leave a room.
That was my life. The life I'll always have.
I'm not crazy, I'm just neat.
I'm symmetrical.
I'm in order.
That's just me.
I couldn't be in a room filled with noisy people, hustling about, touching each other. Even if it's a simple tap on the shoulder or a light shove, it's still a touch.
Nasty unclean hands touching me
I couldn't be anywhere like that.
I couldn't make a sandwich without cutting the edges in a straight symmetrical line, or spreading the jam evenly on each half.
Even the scars on my arms were lined perfectly, not an inch out of place. I couldn't mess those up, or I'd have to cut off my arm. Those scars last forever, unlike a sandwich.
But I'm not crazy
I'm just me.
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My alarm went off, signaling me to wake up.
Beep,
Beep,
Beep.
Turn it off.
Get up. Clothes, teeth, wash your hands.
Wash them again,
And again,
Last time.
Time for breakfast. Put in toast. Pour orange juice.
Sip,
Sip,
Sip
Pop, toast is up. Spread the jam. Cut the toast.
Bite,
Bite,
Bite
Grab backpack. Ready.
Drive,
Drive,
Drive.
There, school, High school to be specific. Wait for the crowds of sweating unclean teenagers to pass.
Enter,
Enter again,
Enter one last time.
Walk to first period, Geometry. Keep head low.
That was my life, every day, the same exact routine.
But that day was slightly different, because the desk in the very back, next to mine, that normally stayed empty, was occupied. I couldn't help but stare at the boy that claimed the desk next to mine. I hadn't seen this boy before. No one ever sat in that desk, or even close to me, actually. He must have been new.
I looked him over as I made my way to my desk, cautiously sitting. He was quite beautiful. Brunette fringe covering his blue eyes, glasses propped on his nose, a nice smile. He wore a striped shirt and dark jeans. There was also something different about him. He wasn't dirty looking like the other pubescent teenagers, he looked clean. He had fresh smell, clean clothes, no overly strong cologne to cover up the sweaty stinking mess like the other ones. And he was symmetrical. His pants were rolled up at the bottom, fitting perfectly with his red toms.
He was flawless.
The boy wasn't paying attention to me. He was staring absently out the window, twiddling a pen in between his fingers. Although, that's what I prefered, no one staring at me or judging me. But I can't always have what I want, because he turned to head of brown hair towards me.
I froze and looked down at my lap, avoiding his gaze. I thought he looked away before I heard someone clear their throat, and looked up to see it was the boy. I didn't smile or frown, I just stared at him. Not an unusual thing really, my expression stayed the same for the most part. He flipped open his binder and pulled out a small piece of green paper I recognized as a schedule.
His blue eyes were still locked on my green ones, and I was afraid if I looked away, I'd never be able to stare at the vastness of them again.
He then smiled ever so slightly. I wasn't exactly sure how to react, so I just returned the smile. Smiling is an odd sort of thing I don't get up to very often, but it's alright sometimes.
Turning his small frame to me, I was able to see the schedule.
"Um... hi. Can you please tell me what period I have lunch?" the boy asked me.
His voice was amazing, like angels, so sweet and pure. I was so caught up in his voice that I nearly forgot he asked a question.
I froze. How was I supposed to answer it? If I tried, it would just come out in a stuttering mess, but if I just ignored the question, I'd miss the opportunity to speak to the flawless boy. And I knew the answer; fourth period. He had lunch fourth period. Why couldn't I just say that?
My hands must've been sweating from the pressure, and I couldn't stand that.
Gross, icky, disgusting sweat.
But at that time I needed to focus on answering the question. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to try to find the words.
"Y-you ha-have I-it fa-fa-fa-," I was interrupted by someone laughing...
Zayn.
He had bullied me all my life, but now was not the time. I knew my sentence didn't work out as planned, but at least I tried.
He continued laughing. I attempted to cover my face with my book, but soon more people joined in laughing. I heard Zayn's loud voice mock what I had said. It hurt. People laughed at that, making me hate myself more. I tried to curl up into myself. Not only did I completely embarrass myself in front of the class, but also in front of this perfect boy. Where the hell was the teacher?
I wanted to stop existing. Even if the laughter didn't last long, it did in my head. The evil chuckles and roars kept repeating themselves. They were never ending devilish snickers.
The boy was laughing at me, he had to be. I wasn't looking but I knew he was, I just did.
Of course he is
Freak
I didn't want to look up, but I just needed to see if the boy was laughing. I had to make sure no one on this planet cared for me. So I tilted my head to the side and opened my eyes slowly.
I imagined him roaring with laughter; hand over his stomach, tears prickling his glassy eyes. But I didn't see any of that. Instead, I saw him looking at the ground, arms crossed against his chest, a frown displayed on his lips.
I couldn't believe it. He couldn't possibly be frowning because of what happened, could he?
No, because no one loves you.
No one cares for you.
You're worthless.
But, right before I hid myself from the world again, he looked up at me. I was turning away just before, in the corner of my eye, I swear I saw him smile at me.
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A/N
Hi. This might be confusing, but yeah, Harry has OCD and he always denies it and it's a Larry high school AU... I know, confusing. Anyway I'll update soon... probably.