I know I said flapper next, but it's taking a while because I want it to be as accurate as I can. It'll be up as soon as I can finish it. Sorry for breaking another one into parts but it's probably going to be a bit longer than my usual oneshots. It deals with OCD and other mentioned anxiety disorders. If that is something that is sensitive to you, you might want to skip this. All the information is accurate and it is not portrayed as a negative trait, however, so read on if you'd like. How about another emotional rollercoaster for you guys?
Pete was always the simple type.
He liked the movie Titanic, classical music, and plain turkey sandwiches. He had to watch the movie with three lights on, no more, no less. The classical music could only be played from his TV, the volume at precisely 26. His sandwiches had to be cut in triangles, with no crust. Most people would think that this was weird. That he was obsessive and compulsive. But to Pete, it wasn't obsessive or compulsive, it was right.
He would often wonder what it would be like to be a regular person. As a labeled genius, Pete found it hard to cope with what came with that title. He could only talk to people if there were an odd number of them. Otherwise he would feel itchy, uncomfortable, and just wrong. Most didn't understand this, so Pete kept to himself.
That was, until one man (Pete was happy that it was just one seeing as one is an odd number) came and changed his life forever.
It began with a dog.
A dog with golden eyes and dark fur that ran into Pete's nicely kept yard. Drool and slobber flew as the dog raced over the picket fence and landed in the perfectly cut grass. Pete, who was leaning over his flower garden with a shovel in his hand, screamed and flicked dirt into the sky. It fell down on him, making him scream again and stand up, flailing his arms.
"Dirt! Ew! Ew! AHHHHHHHH!" He wailed, shaking every part of his body. The dog was on its back, rolling around in the grass. "Get off my property you messy, uncivilized, smelly piece of garbage!"
The dog was incapable of understanding human speech so he just rolled around some more. Pete ran into the house and ripped his clothes off his body, screeching and crying. The dog began barking and running around the yard again. Pete watched with large eyes at the pandemonium that had just occurred and began crying again. He was down to his pristine underwear when he heard a shout from the yard. He had forgotten to close the door and was now standing mostly naked in his kitchen while a stranger was jumping his fence and a stray dog was making rounds around his backyard.
Pete was in a mess. Pete didn't like messes.
That's when he saw the stranger.
It was a man of twenty something years or so, with pushed back bleached hair and black sunglasses. He wore a dark grey muscle tank and these dark ripped jeans that made Pete gag. The stranger was also wearing two different shoes, which pushed Pete to his limit.
"Get off my yard you trespassing imbecile!" he yelled at the man, still in his underwear with dirt on his face. The stranger faced him and stared at his abdomen for a second, then met Pete's eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to... interrupt, but that's my dog and she's, well, running around your yard and-" The man seemed flustered, for a reason Pete couldn't understand. "I'll just grab her and go."
Pete huffed. "You could've knocked on my door like a civilized creature instead of jumping my fence like a delinquent."
The stranger scratched his head. "Yeah... sorry about that."
"Sorry doesn't change anything. Take your dog and leave. I must take a shower to get all this dirt off me." Pete turned away and flicked his hand at the man.
"I'm sorry!" The man repeated. "I'll pay for any damage she caused!"
"I don't want your money," Pete called over his shoulder. "I just want you out of my yard."
"How about I take you out for lunch? Or dinner?" This stranger was persistent, thought Pete. "I really am sorry about this situation."
Pete thought for a moment and then turned back around, still in his underwear. "We'll go to the pretzel stand in Louise Park, I will order a cinnamon pretzel and eat approximately four fifths of it. Then we will walk around the park trail 1 1/2 times before sitting down on the purple bench. We will talk for 3 minutes and 16 seconds about any topic you choose. Then I will leave," Pete finished, leaving the man with a shocked look on his face. "What? Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No..." the man said slowly. "It's just... you might want to get some clothes on first. And I should probably get out of your backyard."
"That proposition will suffice. Meet me, outside my front door, in 10 minutes and 12 seconds." Pete nodded and without another word, turned around to go take a shower (with a blue washcloth and blue soap).
After scrubbing himself raw, Pete put on a pair of crisp jeans and a blue shirt. He really did adore the color blue. His feet were sore from working in the garden so much, so he slid on his white back support sneakers. Fixing his unruly wet hair, he exited his room and made his way into his living room, which was an absolute madhouse. It was the only room in the house that Pete could make a mess in and not feel wrong. There was clothes and books strewn across the floor in a frenzy of carelessness. Pete made his way about the mess towards the front door and opened it, right on time as usual. The man was already there, the dog gone and no glasses. His eyes were intriguing, dark rings of light green surrounding light brown.
"You're central heterochromatic," Pete noted as he closed and locked the front door.
"I know," said the man simply.
"That's a first. Most people with the condition have no clue what it is."
"It's when your inner iris is a different color than your outer. I'm aware."
Pete approved of this man. "My name is Pete Wentz and I am a forensics consultant for the Chicago Detective Department."
The man smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Michael but I go by Mikey. I'm a chemist at the University lab."
"You certainly don't dress like one," Pete observed.
"I don't work on the weekends." Mikey began walking and motioned for Pete to follow. The park was a few blocks down the road. "I specialize in bioengineering within edible agriculture."
"How interesting. Tell me, what are your views on pesticides?" Pete questioned as they crossed the street.
"Very controversial topic to bring up on the first date, but I'm always up to talk about it. I believe the more natural alternatives are the safest and most effective way to go. Using insect predators such as ladybugs and wasps and crop rotation can have more benefits than chemicals. Although they do provide assistance, using what we were originally given is the more proper and planet healthy path to take."
Pete swelled inside. He had a feeling him and Mikey were going to be good friends.
