I rearranged the forks on the table for the 3rd time and took a step back. It was Dan's birthday and since he didn't like parties, I decided to just make dinner for him, Benedict, and I. But unfortunately, I didn't even think I'd get to make the food at this point. My OCD was getting in the way of everything: the forks weren't perfect, the plates weren't in the right places, and everything was out of order.

I took a closer look at the cups on the table. They had spots. So many damn spots. I picked up the cups and brought them to the sink to scrub them again. The soft brown spots slowly disappeared and I sat them back on the table. All seemed to be in order until I remembered; food, I had to make food. I looked through the cabinets until I found noodles and spaghetti sauce. I sat the pan on the stove and stared at it for a long while before moving it an inch. 'There, perfect' I thought. I put water in it to boil and left it. I looked at the clock and saw that Dan and Benedict would be home in 30 minutes.

Suddenly I turned into a nervous wreck.

My hands shook furiously as I tried to open the jar of sauce. The jar slipped from my hands and hit the ground, breaking into little glass pieces and sauce exploding onto the cabinets. The kitchen was a mess. As much as I wanted to leave it, my mind kept nagging me. 'Pick it up, Foster, clean it up. It's not perfect, it has to be perfect.' I got onto my knees and picked up the broken pieces of glass that were scattered among the floor. Sharp edges pierced my skin, but I ignored the pain. I threw away the glass and then stared at the red sauce over everything, even on my shirt. I quickly cleaned up the floor, making sure to scrub every surface. I then looked down as my shirt and started to cry. It'd take forever to get the stains out. I took of my shirt and sprinted to me and Dan's room, looking for a clean one. As I picked up a white blouse, I noticed red stains on it as well. My hand. My hand was bleeding from the glass. I tossed it and picked up my black blouse, putting it on.

I took the stained shirts and tried to clean them out in the kitchen sink. I scrubbed and dabbed, but I could still see the red stains. Tears still ran down my face as I scrubbed harder. It had to be perfect.

Suddenly, someone took my arms and spun me around. I was met by deep brown eyes that could only be Dan's. I tried to get out of his grip to go back to scrubbing, but he held me arms tightly.

"Foster, Foster, look at me. Please, just look me in the eyes." he pleaded. My eyes looked around frantically. His hands went to my face and he made me look him in the eyes. "Please, calm down. What's going on, why're you crying?"

I tried to talk, but more tears came and I stuttered. "I-I tried t-to make dinner, b-b-but everything went wrong i-it's not perfect, it has to be p-perfect."

He stared at me for a while confused before everything clicked. "You have OCD." he stated. His eyes softened. "Love, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I'm a freak, i tried to handle it by myself but-"

"Foster, you're not a freak. In a simple way to put it, OCD is your thing. Just like procrastination is my thing. Being yourself doesn't make you a freak." His eyes wandered down to my hand. "You're bleeding."

He removed his hands from my face and moved my hand under the cold water from the sink. "Why is your hand bleeding?"

"I dropped the sauce jar and it shattered and I tried picking up the glass, but a few pieces cut my hand." I whispered.

Minutes of silence passed until Benedict walked in. "Hey, what's- why's her hand bleeding?"

Dan gave Benedict a look and he instantly backed off. "I'll just be in the lounge."

Benedict left and Dan got bandages out of the cabinet above the sink. He wrapped up my hand and taped it. I stared down at it, another imperfection. He put his hands on my cheeks and made me look at him again. "Breathe, love. Everything's okay."

Silent tears ran down my cheeks and I shook my head. "I ruined your birthday, everything's ruined."

He pulled my face towards him and kissed me. It was soft and gentle. He pulled away and looked at me. "That right there, made my birthday perfect. Not some stupid dinner."

"B-but-"

"I'm going to help you with this, Foster. We're going to get you to a doctor, get you some medicine, and you're going to get better. I promise." he said with sincerity.

I smiled softly. "Thank you, Dan."

His arms moved around my waist and he pulled me to his chest. I continued to silently cry and he rubbed my back soothingly. "It's okay, let it out. I'm here. I'll always be here."