Clean
Chapter Two: Kuroko Tetsuya
Shopping.
It was one of Akashi's least favorite activities. More so when I involved food. It wasn't the type of shopping he could postpone or ignore for too long. As much as he dreaded his trip to the store, there were only two other alternatives. He could starve himself or eat out. He's done it before. It didn't even affect him that much since he had been too anxious about germs to feel the effects of starvation.
It was different from an eating disorder. There were times Akashi could be so anxious that his appetite would be gone for days at a time.
Akashi already knew the second alternative wasn't an option. He hadn't eaten in a restaurant since he was thirteen. It wasn't a particularly fond memory either.
He had been out with his father at a well-known, high-end restaurant. It had been terrible just looking at the food the waitress had brought him. Unlike their housekeepers who he had given instructions to, even to cleaning and sanitizing methods, he knew nothing about the staff, the process, or the food. It was supposed to be top tier food, but Akashi just wanted to push the meal away. His father was suspicious, though. He couldn't break down in front of his father.
Never in front of his father.
Akashi, against all his instincts, forced the food down his throat in a manner that he hoped looked natural. His eating wasn't commenting on, so he could only hope so. The first thing he did upon returning home was enter his private bathroom, connected to his room, and lock the door before purging the undigested food into the toilet.
He could still recall the large chunks of food from not chewing properly. The echoing words of 'disgusting' and 'dirty' in his poor state, as he tried to rub himself clean. He could even vividly remember scratching his stomach in a near vicious manner as if it would rid the lingering food in his stomach. Finally gaining some sense that he shouldn't claw his stomach open, he shoved his hand down his throat to reflexively throw up.
It was around that time that he started making all his meals.
Akashi placed a hand on his throat in remembrance. Yes, the less he thought about that the better off he was.
.
Akashi walked into the supermarket, thankful for the automatic doors. He clenched his fists a few times before unrolling his fingers enough and extending his hand to the stack of baskets. It didn't matter ifs such a simple thing was something he had to do often enough. He couldn't get used to it. If he tried to carry all the food, he would drop it. Not to mention his image wouldn't be the best if they saw someone struggle carrying their food around the store.
He closed his eyes as he thought of all the customers that came in everyday and how often (or lack thereof) the baskets were cleaned. It wasn't a motivating realization. Slowly, he picked up the basket. It would be fine. He was wearing his gloves. It was the only thought that gave him some sense of security. There was no direct contact, but it didn't change the fact that the basket was filthy.
He tried to shop as fast as he could. His silent breathing taking larger breaths of air whenever he was able to take another item off the shelf.
The food itself didn't bother Akashi. It was the packaging which could have been touched by who knows how many people.
Mysophobia was selective like that. Some things could bother someone and yet other things which logically should be a problem too wouldn't be thought twice about. Still, Akashi probably had more worries than the average mysophobic person.
He was headed to the front to pay for his purchases when he tripped. He didn't know what he tripped over at first. He looked back to see a man who had been squatting to get a better look at the bottom shelf.
The blunet twisted his body to face Akashi. He reached down to help Akashi pick up his things when Akashi subtly flinched. The other man took notice and backed off. Akashi was confused why the man suddenly stopped his motion to help but he wasn't going to complain.
The man's eyes looked towards Akashi's gloved hands as he watched him pick up his things. He wasn't going to apologize. There wasn't a reason for him to apologize. The red man had tripped over him on his own accord. There was a bit of red on them. He picked up the item off the shelf he wanted before standing. "Mysophobic, right? You should get that treated. The longer you wait the harder it is to cure. Or so I've heard."
Akashi watched the man walk off as he remained stiff still. How did he know? Who was he to judge him? Not to mention he had already been dealing with it for at least a good 12 years now. What kind of encouragement did that give him? "How did you know?" Akashi asked when the man was right behind him, before he got too far.
"You flinched when I went to aid you and you've got some blood on your gloves. Presumably from washing your hands so much." Not only was he observant but he was good at piecing things together. Aomine-kun always told him he should have gone into criminology with him instead of becoming a kindergarten teacher.
"And who are you to make such judgements on me." Akashi eyes pierced into blue eyes. He watched as the man's eyelids lowered. It was actually a little frustrating. He couldn't get a good read on him.
"Kuroko Tetsuya. You don't have to listen to me if you don't want."
And then the man was gone and Akashi was still kneeling on the filthy ground.
If anyone has warnings or triggers they are worried about and would like a warning posted above the associated chapters feel free to let me know. I won't judge. I have my own triggers (which I'll probably write about anyway) so I understand.