4/14/15
Modern OCD AU.
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: OCD triggers/mentions

Prompt: Things you said when you were drunk
Pairing: KidxLiz

Kid only drank when things got really bad - when the gnawing feeling at the base of his neck wouldn't go away and his books were never straight enough, when no matter how many times he rearranged the pencils on his desk it would never be perfect, or when he couldn't stop himself from scrubbing his hands until his skin was peeling and raw.

When he was drunk, the disarray was hushed. When he was drunk the only pain he felt was from his cracked palms instead of the unbearable frenzy that stirred in his head.

When Kid was drunk he said stupid things, but at least he could breathe without counting the number of times he inhaled in threes.

Kid had made sure his door was shut before he took a bottle of alcohol from the stash he kept under his bed for emergencies like this. The cap came off with a pop and pathetic fizz and tumbled to the ground. For a moment Kid held the bottle up to his face, staring back at his disoriented reflection. The contours of the bottle made his face bend in asymmetrical globs.

Though to him it might as well have been a mirror.

Because the straight A, honor roll, NYU grad student could only see himself as imperfect.

No matter how many times he tried to wash the invisible dirt from under his fingernails he would always feel like a mess.

Kid sighed and took a long gulp from the bottle. Fiery liquid slipped down his throat and Kid had to fight to keep it down, because he knew it was only a temporary fix - and a cowardice one at that.

When he sobered up in the morning he'd feel the same as he always had. That, plus a killer headache.

He heard the soft but confident footsteps of his roommate walk across the hallway. "Kid!" Liz called. "Hey I'm home. Sorry it's so late, I had to help Maka pickout a new outfit for her date with Soul and god knows she has some serious fashion issues."

Liz. Supportive, kind, beautiful Liz.

"Have you eaten yet?"

Kid couldn't answer as he drained the bottle, eyes squeezed shut as he forced down the drink.

"Kid?" The knock came from his door.

When he didn't answer the door squeaked open a couple inches and Liz poked her head inside.

She saw the emptied bottle, the distress on her roommate's face as he let slowly sunk into his desk chair.

"Oh my god," she breathed. Liz walked over, turning the swivel chair so that he was forced to look blankly up into her eyes.

"I'm so tired," was all he told her.

"Of what?"

"Of feeling."

The effects of the alcohol were beginning to flood his head in a hazy blanket. The world became fuzzy, but at least he could relax. The bottle dropped from his hands and shattered across the floor in odd directions. The last few sips spilled amongst the shards.

What a mess.

Liz's gaze flickered to the glass for a second before returning to her friend. Slowly, she kneeled so she didn't have to bend over.

Kid would've stopped her if he'd been sober enough to react. She would cut herself if she did that.

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked. "I would've come home sooner."

Kid looked up through messy bangs.

The last rays of the sun shining in through his window made her hair hair glow.

"Three," he whispered.

"What?"

"Three," Kid repeated, his words beginning to slur. "You have three freckles on your nose." He reached out and grabbed her face, thumbs running across the bridge of her nose.

Liz gasped slightly, but didn't move. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks like feathers.

Kid liked it best when she wasn't wearing makeup. That way he could see her eyelashes.

"And you have two hundred and four eyelashes," Kid murmured, hands still cupping her face.

She wasn't wearing makeup. Kid liked it better that way. When Liz didn't wear makeup her skin radiated gold instead of powdery white.

"You're beautiful," he sang softly, eye's drooping half-closed.

Beneath Kid's hands Liz's cheeks turned pink. "How much did you drink?"

"Not enufffffff," he answered. It was getting harder to speak properly.

Liz removed his hands from her face, softly examining his raw fingers and palms.

Kid cringed and pulled them away, folding them together so tightly he began to shake. "Not enough."

Liz pulled him from his chair and Kid sunk into her hug. Glass cut into her legs but she didn't budge.

"How many eyelashes did you say I had?" Liz asked.

Kid breathed deeply. She smelled like vanilla. "Two hundred…. n' four."

"Then I wish on all two hundred and four of them that you feel alright again," she said.

Her lips were warm against his as she kissed him. It was soft, tender, chaste with no intention other than to help him know he was loved.

Everyday after that, everytime Liz lost an eyelash she would wish for Kid to feel better. She wished that someday his OCD wouldn't drive him to insanity and that the blisters on his hands would heal.

Maybe after that she would allow herself to kiss him for other reasons.