A/N: This is Neil Hilborn's OCD turned into a camren one shot. Enjoy xoxo
Camila's POV
I was sitting in a coffee shop when I saw her. Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you're like me, and have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments.
Even at night, as I try to sleep, I'm thinking:
Did I lock the doors?
Did I wash my hands?
Did I lock the doors?
Did I wash my hands?
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips. Or the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.
I walked over to her, taking a deep breath. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?" I shook my head, that wasn't perfect. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?" Still not right. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?"
The edges of her bright green eyes crinkled and her lips curved into a smile. "I would love to go out with you."
But it still wasn't perfect. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?" Nope. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?" Almost there. "Hello, you're very beautiful, would you like to go out with me?"
I smiled in satisfaction. I had just asked her out six times in thirty seconds and she said yes on the third try.
•
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it. Or fucking talking to her. But she loved it.
Once in a while I would look up, only to see her looking at me with bright eyes and a wide smile. And once again, everything in my head went silent.
After we finished eating, I made the first move. Well, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16, to be exact. I kissed her goodbye sixteen times, and she enjoyed every single soft, short peck.
•
When we would walk home, she loved that it took forever. She would talk to me about the most pointless things as I payed attention to the oh so many cracks on the sidewalk. What would normally be a 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 minute walk for an average pedestrian, turned into a twenty minute walk for us. But, she loved it.
•
When we moved in together, she told me she felt safe, like no one would rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.
My brown eyes were always focused on her mouth when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked.
When she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.
At night, she'd lay in bed and watch me turn the lights off... and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, 23 times.
She told me that she closed her eyes and imagined that the days and nights were passing in front of her.
•
But something changed. Some mornings I'd start kissing her goodbye 1 2 3 4 5 6 times, but she'd just leave because I was making her late for work.
Whenever I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk when we were walking, she no longer waited for me. She just kept walking.
When she said she loved me, her mouth no longer curled up at the edges. No, it stayed in a straight line.
She told me I was taking up too much of her time. She started staying at her mother's place.
She told me that she shouldn't have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake.
But how could it be a mistake that I don't have to wash my hands after I touch her?
Our love was not a mistake, and it's killing me that she can run away from this and I can't.
I leave her voicemails, at least seven because the last one didn't feel right. "Lauren, please don't do this to me, you know I can't change." seven times in a row. And it hurts more each time.
I can't go out and find someone new because I always think of her. Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars...
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. Her soft hands, her green eyes—
her green eyes—
her green eyes—
her green eyes—
her green eyes.
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel, how she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe. How she blows out candles.
But now, I just think about who else is kissing her. I can't breathe because he only kisses her once— he doesn't care if it's perfect!
I want her back so bad.
I leave the door unlocked.
I leave the lights on.
I want her back so bad.
A/N: y'all should check out his book Our Numbered Days too.
adios
-m
