Unhealthily Obsessed

Tiresome Chores

•Y/N: Your Name

Your POV:

Ah~ Sunday. What a terrible, yet wonderful, day of the week. It's the last day of the weekend before needing to go back to school, but it's also my family's chore day. Today, mom usually takes care of the grocery shopping and vacuuming, while dad mops the floors and busies himself with outdoor jobs like cleaning the gutters, mowing the lawn, and raking leaves. As for me, I have to deal with the laundry and washing dishes.

I don't bother changing out of my fuzzy, mint green, pajama pants and oversized, white tee shirt when I get out of bed in the morning, nor do I go to eat breakfast. I'd like to take care of the wash beforehand, so I pick up the basket of dirty clothes that I keep in my room and carry it downstairs to the unfinished basement. When I open the door, I can see a faint light that's likely coming in from the small window down there, but, knowing how clumsy and "blind" I am, I decide to turn on the light before descending the stairs. There, I see that my parents had already left their own laundry beside the washing machine for me to clean, so, at least, I don't need to take multiple trips up and down the stairs.

I start by sorting through the baskets to separate the whites first before starting the machine.

???'s POV:

'Why do I keep doing this? I'm going to get caught!' And, yet, my body doesn't reply to these concerns as I keep snapping pictures of Y/N separating clothes in the basement. I can see her clearly through the little window, and I'm doing my best to stay hidden behind the big tree on the side of her house, but I had to use one of my new lenses so that I could zoom in enough without the picture looking all blurry and stupid.

'Only the best for you, Y/N.' I blink rapidly a few times before groaning and rubbing my face. Only then did I realize how hot my cheeks had gotten.

'God, what am I thinking? This is crazy.' I sigh, tempted to leave, and, yet, my legs refuse to bring me home. I lean my back against the trunk of the tree and look through the pictures I took of her. They all turned out so well, and she looks so cute in those pajamas!

'Maybe I'm just being paranoid? I'm just... curious, that's all.' I want to know if I truly love her or if this is just some crazy crush. No girl has ever made me feel this way, not even my past girlfriends. To me, Y/N is different, special in a good way.

'There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing,' claims a thought in the back of my head. I feel as though it's the devil on my shoulder speaking, but there is no contradiction from any angel. Maybe this isn't as wrong as I think it is? After all, this feels natural. I take pictures of lots of things, even strangers if I think it'd come out nice.

'I just want to know why I feel this way.' Feeling more confident, I spy around the tree and raise my camera to keep taking lovely pictures of my friend as she pours detergent into the washing machine. After she closes the door to the appliance, she breathes a sigh of relief, probably happy she finished her task for now, and goes back upstairs.

A smile comes to my lips as I turn off the camera and hold it to my chest, which holds my fluttering heart, before walking away.

Your POV:

I collapse beside my mother, who sits on the couch, belly full of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, after finishing the dishes. I can see dad mopping the hallway from where we sit as the T.V. plays my mom's favorite reality show about home improvement. Rather than greeting me with a cheerful "good morning", the woman sips her coffee before giving a few rough coughs into her fist. She groans in misery while setting the mug on the coffee table and sniffling.