Scrub, Scrub, Count, Count – Mixing OCD With Love

A/N: For those who don't know, OCD stands for Obsessive, Compulsive Disorder.

Okies this chapter is pretty tame at the moment, but nevertheless, i shall put up the warnings to all the homophobes out there By the way, you guys suck!

So...It's maleXmale action in later chapters. If you are likely to be offended, i recommend you piss off now and quit reading. No flames please, second chapter shall be more...intimate ;-)

Thank you to those who do take the time to read and review, much appreciated! I think that's everything? Oh, all character's are mine! Mwahahahaha:-P Steal them and i shall hunt you down...enough said. Enjoy the story fellow readers!

Thats all. :-)

xXChapter 1: Mammy’s BoyXx

One. Two. Three. Four. And a half. My breathing evens out after the half step; everything is as it should be.

I turn to the narrow corridor running the back of my hand across the wall and travel for precisely six seconds counted out loud.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I grip the banister handle tightly. Slowly, and it HAS to be done slowly, I circle my forefinger around the wooden knob three times.

Taking a breath, I close my eyes. There are exactly twenty six steps on the stairs leading to my kitchen. But there are only twenty five for me because I always miss out the last step in the shape of a right angled triangle.

I don’t know why, but it just looks like it should be skipped.

I count the steps as I walk down them and jump accordingly to avoid the last one.

I sniff the air and make a warm, lazy grin as the delicious scent of home - made waffles engulf my nostrils pleasantly.

“Hey mum.” I greet as I walk into the cosy kitchen. My mum turns around, an apron tied about her waist displaying the image of a semi – nude chef.

“Good morning Nathan, it’s after six o’clock.” Her eyebrows are raised in disbelief.

I’m not trying to be funny, but I was pretty horrified myself when my alarm clock rang at five fifty five and not five fifty two as I had set last night and religiously done the nights before as well.

In fact, with it currently dwelling on my mind, I’m beginning to feel slightly upset. Why didn’t the damn thing bleep at the appropriate time? It messes with the whole of my strict regime.

And I hate it when days start off badly; it always means I’m going to suffer later on.

Piss, piss, poo!

“Yes, I know. My alarm clock didn’t go off at the set time…I think it may be broken. Can I get a new one today? I want to make sure I’m not up late again, it really frustrates me.” I reply calmly, although I’m starting to get annoyed inside. Bloody, stupid machine.

My mum nods understandingly. “Sure hunny, we can go shopping whenever you feel like it.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Now, would you like some waffles?”

I obediently take a plate resting on the kitchen table and help myself to four waffles; Crisp, golden and exquisite.

It’s a shame I have to eat them really. Kind of ruins their yumminess, being eaten I mean.

“Sweetie, you’re not going to try and save them are you? I don’t want to go up to your room in the next few days and find shoe boxes filled with waffles.” She gives me a knowing wink.

Damn, foiled again.

“Of course not,” I scoff and drizzle maple syrup over my waffles.

I emit a sigh of irritation as a glob of syrup lands on the tablecloth instead of my plate.

Why is everything going wrong today?

“I’ve got some interesting news for you, love. There’s a new next door neighbour that has just moved in, used to live in New York apparently. Why don’t you drop by some time today and say hello? The person might not know anybody in town, would be nice to meet a friendly face don’t you think?” She moves over to the fridge, opens the door and extracts a carton of orange juice.

I munch thoughtfully on my waffles. Why on earth would anybody move to Scotland?

Swallowing my mouthful I reply, “Yes, I probably will pop round…but afterwards. I’ve got things to do first mum.” Mum shots me a wide, toothy grin whilst opening the carton of juice.

I’m glad I’ve made someone happy.

I glance at the kitchen clock and jump with fright. Six fifteen exactly! I should have gotten dressed three minutes ago!

Leaving my remaining waffles on the table I dash to the sink next door to the kitchen and wash my hands. They don’t look clean somehow, so I wash them again. And again. And maybe another … the bathroom clock reads six sixteen.

Shiiiiit! No time for another wash, I dry my hands and leap up the twenty six steps (twenty five for me), run down the corridor with my hand trailing along the wall whilst counting up to six out loud, Jog up the four and a half steps, fling open my bedroom door and swing inside.

By this time, I’m breathing quite heavily and furtively look at my alarm clock nestling next to my bedside lamp. It reads six sixteen.

Phew!

XxXxXxX

I stand in front of the new neighbour’s door, clutching a bouquet of flowers to my chest. Mum wanted me to get alcohol, but I hate holding wine bottles, they always make my hands feel dirty causing me to wash them even more frequently. I don’t know why.

Tentatively, I buzz the doorbell. I can hear footsteps approaching and have no idea why my palms have decided to start sweating nervously.

With one hand, I run it through my blond hair, then immediately wipe it onto my jeans.

I chew my lip, fidget with the flowers, and then suddenly, the new neighbour is revealed as the door is pulled open.

A man in scruffy jeans, worn converse trainers and a plain black t – shirt stands in the doorframe.

His intense grey eyes give me a once – over and settles on my own splodgy green orbes. He has a handsome, angular face; with high cheekbones and a straight nose. His full, pouty lower lip is being bitten by straight white upper teeth.

“Yeah?”

I can feel a blush colour my pale cheeks as I’m addressed. Shyly, I hand over the collection of tulips and lilies.

“H – Hi. My name’s Nathaniel. Um…I’m your new next door neighbour. It’s nice to meet you.” He accepts the flowers with a bewildered expression on his face.

I stand there awkwardly. Finally, he speaks. “Cool, the name’s Talan. Wanna come in?” I blush again and nod. He steps to the side as I move past.

“I’m just about to get a drink, want anything Nathaniel?” I shake my head and give a little smile. As he disappears into his kitchen, I collapse onto a nearby chair.

Oh my gosh! It’s a guy! I inwardly groan at my stupidity. What a prat I must have looked holding a mass of flowers for Christ sake! I didn’t expect him to be so young either, or good looking.

This is probably a major flaw in my traits; I’m such a hopeless romantic. Everyone tells me so, well, by everyone I mean my close circle of friends and family – most people at school find me slightly odd.

It’s always been like this ever since I came out to them, they would tease me for eyeing up a guy I’d never met before in my life, then spluttering like a love – stricken goldfish if that guy so much as brushed past me. Slightly pathetic, I know.

It’s like I have no barrier to hold up and say “Don’t leap ahead, be realistic here.”

Sometimes it’ll get really bad; Say there’s a cute male specimen working behind a fast food joint counter. He’ll go, “What can I get you?” Whilst I’ll splutter and blush and – you get the gist.

It’s really embarrassing and now that I’m thinking about it, upsetting as it probably ruins all my chances of ever having a serious boyfriend.

Who would want to be with someone who declares undying love for you on their second date? Yes, that has happened before…not a pleasant reaction. Rather awkward and uncomfortable…I shudder at the memory.

Talan arrives back into the hallway with a bottle of Stella in his hand. I can see into the kitchen from where I’m sitting and notice the flowers have been put into a vase.

“So Nathaniel…what’s it like in Edinburgh?”

I clear my throat and try not to pass out as I take in his beautiful features again. “Well…it’s a great place to shop and go clubbing.”

He nods and then remarks, “You don’t seem to have a Scottish accent.”

I smile properly for the first time in his presence and answer, “I was born in Hull and moved up to Edinburgh when my parents divorced.”

He asks me how old I am. I say 16.

“Really? I’m twenty three.” He pulls a face. “Wish I was younger.”

“Why?” I enquire, getting a little nosy.

“Well you don’t have to face all the depressing things in life as a grown up. Bills, bills…more bills.” I let out a laugh, he looks at me strangely. Self conscious I murmur a what? Talan explains, “Your laugh…it’s more like a giggle. It sounds cute, kind of girly.”

Weeeell, if I hadn’t been blushing before, which I had, then I certainly have gone a beetroot red now, which I have. He laughs at my misfortunate blushes and takes a swig from his Stella. I am lucky to see those pearly white’s plus a healthy pink tongue.

After a while of idle chatter, Talan shows me to the door and thanks me for the flowers. I duck my head in embarrassment and whisper a, “S’okay.”

Before I step outside his house, I whirl around to face him. “Um Talan? You can call me Nathan, if you like. Nathaniel is usually reserved for the grandparents.”

Talan smirks and claps a hand onto my exposed forearm in a friendly gesture. “No problem, Nathan.” He flashes his perfect teeth and winks at me, then closes the door.

As I trot back to my own house, I almost sing with happiness. I don’t even care that Talan touched my bare arm, my bare skin! Okay, well actually I do. In fact the first thing I’ll probably do is get into the shower and scrub furiously at that spot…but still.

My new HOT neighbour is my friend! I’m swooning as I let myself in and almost forget to miss out the bottom step (almost, not quite) because Talan has firmly planted himself in my mind.

After counting out loud to six and skipping up the four and a half steps, I float down onto my snugly bed. The only thing I MUST NOT DO! Is fall in love with him. I mean it would be completely irrational as I’ve only met Talan once. He is seven years older than me. AND it’s unlikely that he is even gay…

I let my mind wander without thinking properly.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, I love him, I love him, I love him, I –

Jerking out of my unsupervised reverie, I feel a strange, warm fuzzy feeling as I continue to think of Talan.

Uh – oh. This is NOT good!

xXEnd Of ChapterXx

A/N: Hmmm, what do you think? Read and Reveiw Please And I'll Give You A Cookie!