Written for fixing a heart's Issues/ Sensitive Topics Challenge on the HPFC. Topic: OCD
I don't own Harry Potter.
Albus knew he was a pain in the ass. He was pretty anti-social, he was moody, sometimes a tad arrogant. But most people were. No, the worst part of his personality was his OCD- his constant need to have everything in order, just the way he liked it, without any mistakes.
He knew it was bad, and he hated it. He couldn't help but have everything in order, and people just didn't understand. The worst incident was when Scorpius- calm, laid-back, take-everything-in-stride Scorpius- finally threw up his hands and said, "I've had enough of your bullshit, Al!"
Al recoiled, pulling his hands away from the green and silver bedspread in their dorm to focus entirely on his best friend. But he knew that the stitch was there, out of place, and his heart rate steadily picked up with anxiety because if wasn't fixed soon he'd do something drastic and that couldn't happen and ohmygodithasnotbeenfixed-
"Are you listening to me, Albus? Al?" Scorpius demanded, a few moments later. Al blinked, not quite comprehending. What had he said? "No, of course you're not listening," Scorpius ranted, "because that god-damned stitch is out of place, right? I'm sure you remember, Al, the one on my bed?" Al blinked at him again. "Oh, for Merlin's sake- just fix it already!"
Immediately, small, shaky hands reached out and fixed the bedspread, smoothing everything into place, and Al felt so much better. Scorpius let out a sigh of exasperation. He opened his mouth, but Al held up his hand. "I know what you're going to say. Just don't. Please, just don't. I know that I'm a pain- I know that it's unimportant; I know that it's just stupid and pathetic that everything is this way. But I can't help it, okay? I just can't. It's the way I am- the doctors- the Muggle ones, because sometimes wizards don't know what the fuck they're doing- they said that it's a mental thing- obsessive-compulsive disorder. I can't control it. Please, can we just let it be? We're fifteen- either you can accept it or don't and if not, then get out."
Al hadn't meant to say the last part. Really. But he just couldn't shut up sometimes- another reason why people couldn't stand to be around him for long. He was often rude and blunt and unintentionally cruel. He knew that it was another one of those times, when Scorpius just sort of stood there, gaping at him like a fish. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and Al was entranced at the trail of spit that was between his teeth because it was a bit off-center-
Then he just said, "Fine," and sat down on the bed. "Whatever, Al. Just whatever."