A ghost with OCD has a hard time haunting a less than neat home
-------
Arin didn't quite know what to make of his....situation.
He's never been that organized, but he was far from a slob. Everything was just slightly crumpled or out of place. It was a little annoying for some, but he managed to live with his mismatched socks, unsorted laundry and scattered art supplies pretty well. He'd never considered a cleaning lady, and yet it seemed like one went through his house every time he left it in it's humble state.
This reoccurring phenomenon started out small, with discarded clothes being mysteriously placed in the hamper and his toothbrush being put back in it's trusty holder. It slowly escalated to the point where his colors were sorted from his whites entirely, or that his tornado ravaged art desk was suddenly void of it's unbelievable clutter. It was no small feat to organize his drawers by both tool type, size and color all together. He was very grateful yet uncomfortable.
God probably didn't have the time to clean up after him. The only logical explanation was a living being sneaking into his home to add a bit more shimmer and shine to his floors, and then leaving.
Like a...cleanliness tooth fairy.
Arin threw open his door, balancing a bubble tea, a stack of mail and a bag full of groceries all at once. He could have perhaps put down one of his many items to make the load easier, but who had the time for that. He kicked the abused door closed behind him and tried to survey his living pace through the crystal clear imagery of a giant paper bag.
As far as he could tell, his peanut butter mess was still present within the kitchen. He would prefer it to be there anyways.
He threw his abundance of mail onto some newly stacked and sorted mail, creating a pool of paper and stamps. He eyed it warily and half expected it all to start levitating and whatnot. The mail rested, choosing not to reveal it's hidden power quite yet. He sighed happily and let everything fall out of his arms and onto the dining room table. A loud thunk could be heard as several metal cans made forced contact with the hard wood.
" I'm home! Want to come out yet?" Arin called as he swirled the remains of his tea inside it's plastic cup. He didn't expect a parade to jump out of his pantry or anything. An ' Oh hey, I'm in your closet organizing your bow ties and stuff' would have been nice from the usual lonely silence.
" Alright. Check in with out later!" Arin said a little louder. He wasn't trying to worry his neighbors, but at this point he was probably just talking to an empty house. He waited a few more seconds before sighing heavily, letting the breath he had held go. He looked down at his muddled drink with a blank expression. All good things much come to an end.
He walked into his kitchen blindly and tossed away the now garbage cup. He watched it settle like a weirdo, before turning to his freshly scrubbed counters. All his bread and peanut butter had been put back in it's right place, the stray crumbs gone as well. Nothing aggravated him more than to witness a magic force clean his kitchen without HIS permission.
As he squinted angrily at his lemony fresh counter tops, a small clatter of a dropped fork happened behind him. His entire being paused. Had he caught a tidy raccoon red handed, or was there just a fork there that fell at a less than convenient time. Doing the smart thing, Arin turned around without thinking of the possibility of being murdered.
He was met with a faint ethereal glow, a mix of an almost white blue and pastel yellow. The nearly transparent body was holding a clean plate timidly, the other hand clenched tightly. It had most likely been holding the dropped fork.
Arin was lost in milky white eyes and fluffy hair and a shocked expression of a lightly stubbled man. His heart was pouring for many different reasons; one due to a ghost putting his dishes away, another because said ghost was kinda hot? And doing his dishes for some reason?
