O C D

He didn't make her stop.

Five

Warning: This is bad.

»o«

She looked pathetic.

Her chestnut hair, which was usually flawless, fell over her shoulders like tangled vines, and her obvious attempt at hiding her bruised eye with bangs was a failure. It was rather strange to see her so mangled like this, but it was even stranger to see her smile. It didn't involve pearly whites, radiant sunshine, or an angelic chorus, but it did have a pair of perfect dimples. It was also the first smile she had ever given in front of such a large audience.

And he never felt so guilty in his life.

It wasn't until Sora gave him a hard nudge Roxas realized that his burger had slipped out of his hands.

Not that he minded.

"Say something," Sora mumbled. The chattering and bickering had slowed down to a curious mush of murmurs as each pair of eyes focused on the blond who had dropped his burger.

That, he definitely minded.

The heat that had been rising in his cheeks was now rushing through his veins, pulsing in his ears, and turning his entire face crimson. Visions of the football spiraling beautifully in the air and then plunging into Olette's face flashed before his eyes as he nervously wetted his dry lips. He swallowed once, twice, and then finally managed to get his voice past his throat.

"It was nothing," he mumbled.

As if those were the magic words, people were allowed to talk again and students began to nudge and tease.

"Aww, little Roxas is a little hero."

"You were able to go the distance! The distance! You're Hercules!"

"Shut up, that made no sense."

The flood of people swallowed Olette whole without effort. Roxas stood up to dig her out, but found himself back on the bench when Sora pulled him down with his arm hooked around his neck.

"Wow, you actually did something good today."

"Shut up," he said without much enthusiasm. His eyes were still flicking across the cafeteria, passing by each face and lingering a bit on every girl with brown, wavy hair. But none of them were counting their steps.

Sora laughed and stuffed the rest of the half-eaten burger into his cousin's mouth.

»o«

"I'm sorry that your arm has to be that way."

Roxas dropped the book he was balancing in his one good hand and nearly screamed. The soft voice would never have been heard if Olette wasn't speaking right into his ear.

Olette scrambled to the floor, picked up the book, wiped it with a tissue Roxas didn't see her holding before, and handed the detested math book back to its owner. She then took out a hand-sanitizer and squirted a generous amount of the clear liquid on the palm of her hand. The girl did all this in less than five seconds.

"It was my fault for not catching the ball when you threw it towards me," she continued while thoughtfully rubbing her hands together. "You even called my name to catch my attention. If I had not fallen, you would not have gotten hurt while transporting me to the doctor's office."

Roxas fingered the frayed edges of his trigonometry book cover and decided to rest his eyes on his untied shoes.

Why was he being such a soft-hearted wimp? So what if she never finds out that he threw that stupid ball on purpose? It wasn't like his relationship with this girl mattered anyway.

Roxas's face suddenly hardened and the teen slammed his locker shut.

"I'll forgive you if you can just drop this whole thing. I have to get to class."

Roxas pushed Olette aside and ignored the pang of guilt he felt when he saw the confused hurt in those green eyes.

The entire class cheered when Roxas walked into the last period of the day.

"Our hero!" Sora shouted the loudest.

Roxas arched an eyebrow as he uncertainly slid into his seat.

"What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be in geometry?"

The brunet grinned and leaned back on his chair.

"I've been passing all my tests with flying colors. I showed those freshmen what sophomores are all about."

More people cheered at this.

"And so the teacher gave me an upgrade."

"Sora Wataya!"

The trigonometric teacher marched in and rapped his ruler on his desk.

"Oh shoot," he cursed as he scrambled off his desk and ran out the room.

Roxas let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He started dozing off as soon as the teacher opened his mouth and started listing formula after formula.

The blond never really liked numbers anyway.

»o«

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6," Olette counted out loud.

"Today is Monday, and this project was postponed to next Monday, so we have this Monday, this Tuesday, this Wednesday, this Thursday, this Friday, this Saturday, and next Sunday to revise our work. That is six days."

Olette turned around from her desk and thumb tacked a modified calendar onto her bulletin board.

"We will use this to guide us."

Roxas was sitting on the Olette's bedroom floor with his head in his hands. Either Olette had forgotten or had chosen to ignore the events that occurred earlier that day, for here he was in her house again with the walking clock narrating every minute detail of her life.

"Today, you will finish reading the book and I will start working on our PowerPoint."

"Can't I just finish reading at my own house?"

Olette shook her head.

"We will not rest until we have finished our discussions, and we cannot have discussions without having read the book. So please, do read."

"Okay, I've had enough. I can't stand your constant counting and organizing and talking! If you want me to finish reading this damn book, you'll have to stop being so compulsive!"

"I don't understand. I'm merely being careful. Safety is extremely important when it comes to surviving, and organization and care are the keys to safety. Don't you want to be safe—"

"Shut up," Roxas interrupted. "There is a difference between being safe and precise, and compulsive and irritating."

"I honestly don't think I can be your partner," Roxas said. He couldn't believe he actually felt sorry for this girl a few hours ago.

For once, Olette was silent as she looked down at her notebook. She took out a white-out and glossed it over one of the words, only to rewrite the same exact word a few millimeters shifted over.

"It's not something I can control, Roxas," she replied softly after putting the white-out bottle aside. "I get nervous and paranoid when I don't go through these processes. There are accidents waiting to happen at every corner, every turn. They're so easy to prevent, yet they jump at you every day because we're not careful."

"That's called life, Olette," Roxas answered with exasperation.

"But not when that accident causes a death." Olette immediately said.

Roxas blinked, taken aback. Olette's usual flat monotone voice was filled with unusually thick emotion.

"You wouldn't call death life, Roxas," the brunette went on.

The truth was that Olette's parents were no longer living.

Murder. Murder was the first thought that came to mind as Olette came home from school. Black and white cars parked all around her lawn, gate and fence laced with bright yellow caution tapes, strangers walking in and out of the open door. They said the house wasn't broken into. They said the suspect left no trace at all. They said there were two bodies in the upper room.

Blood. Blood stained all over the sheets and wall, contrasting so much with the cream-colored wallpaper. They said they were gunshot wounds. In the chest, the head, the heart.

Nothing was stolen, nothing was disturbed.

Nobody knew why.

"My parents were killed in an accident," Olette said softly.

She was speaking the truth.

If only she had woken up 15 seconds earlier, if only she decided not to skip breakfast, if only she remembered to lock the door behind her, if only she put her cell phone on sound. Then maybe, just maybe, she would've been able to see the man as she rushed out, be the first one to be shot as she drowned down her morning cereal, prevent him from intruding at all, or would've answered the last call from her mother.

If she had done one of those things, maybe her parents would be sitting downstairs reading the newspaper or sipping a cup of hot coffee. Her room wouldn't be dustless, her books wouldn't be alphabetized, and her steps would go by uncounted.

She wouldn't be so paranoid.

"Olette, you're crying."

The brunette blinked up.

Roxas sheepishly handed her the tissue box that was sitting on her desk.

Olette the offered tissue and blew her nose.

"I'm sorry," Roxas said after a while.

"We learn from our mistakes," Olette replied softly.

Roxas scratched the back of his head, feeling extremely guilty and uncomfortable. Finally, he dug through his backpack and pulled out his copy of Fahrenheit 451.

"I think I can finish this up in an hour. You go ahead and start on your PowerPoint."

Olette smiled.