Rexer

Well, was it wrong to like things neat and tidy? No one around here complained about not being able to find anything, and they took it for granted too. If he wasn't around, they'd soon find out what chaos would ensue.

The week got worse from there.

He couldn't concentrate on his work, so he tidied and organised. Everything.

But then he ran out of things to tidy. And the next step seemed logical.

Unfortunately, his boss didn't seem very understanding. Dusting seemed to have been ok, but vacuuming apparently wasn't.

"Jake Preston, what are you doing?" She demanded, standing with one hand on her ample hip and watching him wrestle the vacuum cleaner out of the cleaner's closet. And there was someone laughing.

Someone laughing at him. Because he was a laughing stock and pathetic. And apparently everyone could see there was something wrong with him and he didn't know what.

"If anyone else cared even a little bit about what this workplace was like, then I'd have a damn sight less to do than I do now." Jake snapped, hot tears stinging in his eyes.

He saw the surprise on Hillary's face, looked away. People were probably staring, and he was going to cry.

Pathetic. Yes, he was pathetic.

"My office. Now." Hillary's tone was cool, but he didn't care. Crying in front of one person was a huge step up from crying in front of every single person he worked with.

He nodded, bent to get the vacuum cord, which had somehow tangled around everything, and started to wind it into a neat coil.

There was a strange silence which buzzed in his ears.

"Jake?" Hillary sounded mystified.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"It's a trip hazard to leave it like this. Putting it away properly will only take me-"

"Jake, I said now. Let someone else deal with it. My office. Go." Hillary sounded outraged. Shocked.

He hesitated, looked up.

People were watching with fascination, with morbid curiosity, frozen mid movement.

Jake shivered despite the hot blush glowing in his cheeks, and turned away.

He felt ill leaving the vacuum lying there, but he had to go to Hillary's office. Had to or she'd fire him. And how would he get another job? It was a surprise they'd let him stick around here this long.

He let himself into her office and looked around. Maybe she was going to fire him. He twisted his fingers together, looking around her office. It was a mess. A complete mess.

And the people in the hallway were probably laughing at him.

Struggling to draw deep breaths and stay calm, he found his fingers moving. Picking up the pens, replacing their lids, moving the books on her desk into perfectly even piles.

Unfortunately he hadn't had time to even tidy the whole office before she was right behind him.

"Jake Preston!" She said loudly. He fumbled the day-to-day calendar and put it back on the desk, carefully squaring it with the edges of the timber.

Hillary was watching him.

"Sit down, Jake." She said more quietly after moving around her desk and taking her own seat. He obeyed, reached out to straighten her pens as he did.

Hillary's hand came down on his so fast he jumped. But she didn't do anything other than gently catch his hand and hold it fast.

"Jake, is something wrong?" She asked.

He felt a cold shiver slide over his skin, shrugged.

"Do you need some time off?" She asked.

Jake shook his head. If he was home alone, all the time... he'd go crazy.

Hillary squeezed his hand in both of hers. He blinked rapidly to try to stop the tears welling up behind his eyes.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" She finally said. She looked sympathetic. And that was it.

Jake found himself crying, covering his face and letting the misery pour out of him.

And Hillary was passing him tissues, coming back around her desk and rubbing his shoulders.

"Please," he choked out. "I'll try to stop. I will..."

"Honey, it's not that simple." Hillary sounded sympathetic, but that was it. He knew he was losing his job.

He drew a shuddering breath, nodded. "I c-can take my stuff home today." He told her.

"What? Jake, I don't want to fire you." Hillary squeezed his shoulder. "But I don't think I can keep you on. Unless you do something about this."

"I'll try, I will. I can stop." Even as he promised, he wasn't sure he could. That was the problem. It was like he had to do these things.

"No, Jake. I mean... you need to get professional help. Alright?"

He shuddered, looked at her.

"You need to go to your doctor, and get a referral. Ok? You need to see a psychologist or a psychiatrist and get some help, alright, Jake? You can't go on like this."

There was nothing to do except nod. Nothing else that seemed possible.

So he nodded.

*****

His home was quiet and still. He let himself in and went to put his work things into their proper places in the files and trays in the little desk he had in the corner of his small lounge room.

The internal mail he could deal with directly. His latest pay slip, a note regarding the company's Superannuation regulations, a letter from HR reminding staff about the company policy about requesting holidays, and another envelope. A blue one. He frowned at it. It was addressed to him, but it had "(and Rex :D )" in brackets next to his name.

He carefully opened the envelope and drew out a navy invitation to a birthday bash. From Greg. He frowned at the name. He shouldn't be surprised. He had told as few people as possibly about Rex. Greg obviously didn't know.

He sighed and rubbed his face. He wouldn't have ever been invited except that Greg had taken a liking to his ex. He wondered if he shouldn't call him and just hand over his number.

Jake sighed and went into the kitchen and put both the invite and the envelope into the recycling bin.

And then the mugs in the cupboard caught his eye so he straightened them until their handles were all lined up.

And once he'd straightened up the cutlery too there were so many more things that needed doing before he could even think about calling the doctor and making an appointment.

*****

Paul hadn't seen Jake around the office for days. Part of that had been his deadline and the fact he hadn't paid attention to much else for days, and when he had he'd just been grateful that Jake appeared to have taken his warning to heart. And then he'd thought Jake was avoiding him, which kind of relieved him, but then it seemed... odd.

Of course, Jake was neat beyond anyone else in his office, but when he walked past his cubicle it looked like nothing had moved at all. Like Jake hadn't been in.

He didn't want to ask anyone about Jake. If Jake had weird ideas about him then he didn't need to add to that. Did not need Jake to get any more ideas about him than he might have already had.

Of course, that didn't mean he was averse to taking an opportunity when one came up.

A couple of the graphics guys were looking for something, rummaging around and making a mess. He'd been watching them, wondering why Jake wasn't helping them find whatever they were after... until one of them burst out with 'where the hell is Jake when you need him?' and another one's head shot up and he replied with 'what, you didn't hear?'

Paul moved closer.

"Went crazy and got sent home. Seriously, man? You didn't know? He totally flipped out, like psycho, we're talking."

Paul almost stopped in shock. Jake had what?

"Yeah," a third put in with a suggestive look. "Apparently he's been getting crazier since his breakup."

"Hey," Paul said to them sharply. The shock was quickly being replaced by a cold feeling. A deep something moving inside him. Fear. Jake's breakup? Paul hadn't intended to do more than listen in, to find out what he could. But this was gossip and this was freaking him out and he did not want to hear anymore. "That's enough. I don't want to hear anymore gossip around here, got it?"

They looked at him. He doubted any of them knew exactly who he was, but still, neither did they seem keen on picking a fight. They shrugged and went back to what they'd been doing instead.

A break-up? What the hell had Jake been thinking? He'd told people they were dating before they'd ever even had a date and now they'd apparently broken up? This was getting way too weird for Paul. Way, way too weird.

Paul tried to steady his nerves. He wanted a coffee, desperately, and preferably spiked with something warming and whiskey-flavoured. Of course, he was at work, so that wasn't going to happen.

Instead he tried to work for a while, and then went to find Kirsty. She was a girl who'd both know what was going on and be sensitive about it.

She was in her cubicle, and quickly went to push a tub of yoghurt out of sight when he came in.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked her.

"Ok." She said, sounding a bit suspicious.

He sighed and leant against her desk.

"Jake." He kept his voice low. "What happened?"

She gave him a long look. "Why you asking?" She finally demanded.

He liked the fact she wasn't keen to tell him. It made him think she was unlikely to tell anyone much of anything. So if she knew anything about this supposed 'breakup' of Jake's then she wouldn't be all hot to tell everyone how he'd been tricked. "I didn't know anything had happened. I'm worried about him. That's all."

Kirsty sighed and pursed her lips.

"You know his neat-thing? Well... it was getting worse and worse. People were talking a lot more than normal, but Jake was... so preoccupied... I don't think he noticed. I don't know. Anyway. Hillary confronted him..." Paul listened with a growing sensation of dread in his stomach. "... and then... Look, no one knows this but me. But she told him to go home and not to come back until he'd got help." Kirsty looked sad. "So I guess he hasn't."

Paul blinked at her, a stab of pity hitting him in the stomach. "And that's it?" he asked.

Ok. So Jake was perhaps a little crazy. But the poor thing. Paul didn't want to feel sorry for him, but he couldn't help it. Maybe Jake just needed someone to give him a hand. Apart from the whole crazy thing, he was a nice kid, really.

"Well yeah. Ok, so he flipped out a little, but it's not like he went completely insane!" Kirsty flared at him.

"And no one's bothered to call him or check on him?" He corrected coldly.

Poor Jake. He was probably home on his own. He must be lonely. Even people who were - unstable - got lonely, he was sure. That was probably half of it.

She stopped and then looked away.

"Right." He said.

Right.

*****

Paul felt awkward, knocking on Jake's door after the way he'd left that morning after he'd spent the night... but there was nothing else for it. Someone had to check on him.

And even if Jake had some weird ideas about him and had a bit of a creepy stalker thing going on... Paul couldn't help but thinking about him and hoping he was ok.

Paul had to knock twice more before Jake answered the door.

And when he did Paul just wanted to pick him up and cradle him close.

Jake looked harried and flushed, and even if he'd done his hair it still looked flat and dull somehow.

And then Jake saw him and went even pinker and looked at the ground and said nothing.

"Jake. Hi." Paul hesitated. This was awkward. He could hardly speak. It would have been so much easier just to touch him, hold him close. But he couldn't. Obviously merely sticking up for Jake that while back had been enough to give him ideas. He didn't want to make things any worse. Any weirder. "Uh... so you haven't been at work."

"No." Jake breathed his answer, still not moving.

"I wanted to check on you."

"I'm ok." His voice was so soft Paul barely caught it. And he didn't look up.

The deep dread in Paul's stomach grew. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Jake looked up at him, and Paul hoped desperately that it wasn't fear that had flashed in Jake's eyes before he looked down again and shook his head.

"Let me in." Paul said quietly, hoping he was being gentle.

Jake ran his hands into his hair and clutched his head, moved inside.

Paul followed. Jake was hunched, looking at his feet. Paul looked down, but his shoes seemed fine. When he looked back up, though, Jake was shaking, wrapping his arms around himself.

He was sure Jake hadn't been like this before. He would have noticed. Of course he would have. Ok, so he'd thought Jake might have been a little anal about being neat, a little messed up in what he told people about who he dated... but this was... this was something else.

"You going to be back at work soon?" He asked, hoping he was being encouraging.

Jake let out a keening moan and turned away, shaking his head. "No. I can't. I can't." His shaking was worse.

Paul reached out for him. Jake shrank back but Paul was too worried to let him move away. He pulled Jake towards him and into a hug.

It wasn't as much of a hug as he'd hoped. Jake stayed too tense for that.

"Why can't you?" Paul asked. Jake went to pull away and Paul caught a glimpse of the tears in his eyes.

"Because everyone's laughing at me. Because they're talking about me. I can't, I can't," Paul's heart sank.

"They're not. They're worried about you, Jake."

Jake shivered, shook his head.

"They are." He whispered back.

"Look." Paul began carefully. "I, uh... don't mean to pry. Ok? But have you been to see anyone?"

The shaking got worse, and he was terribly afraid that Jake was going to cry. "No. No I can't. I can't, ok? I can't..."

"Why not?" Paul was mystified. And then Jake was crying.

"I haven't- I can't! I have to finish. I can't go out when it's like this, I can't leave a mess. I just have to keep- and then I can-" He broke off, covering his face.

"Jake," Paul said quietly, running his hand up Jake's back. Jake tried to shrug him away. "There's no mess, ok? You've got everything completely spick and span, huh? I bet there's nothing left to do. How about we go-"

"No, there is, there is," Jake kept shaking his head, kept trying to pull away. "I can't- not without..."

"What? What do you need to do?"He let go of Jake and gave him a gentle push so he'd show him. And Jake got the hint.

The small bathroom was spotless, scrubbed to a blinding white, but the smell of bleach was almost overpowering.

Jake picked up a worn cloth and immediately started scrubbing the grout between the tiles again. Perhaps Paul had caught him in the middle of something.

"I just have to finish up," Jake said, drawing a couple of deep breaths which Paul thought must have burned his lungs with all that bleach around. But Jake was sounding calmer. Better. "And then. Then I'll be ok. Just let me finish."

Paul waited. It took Jake a lot longer to clean the tiles than he'd thought, but that was ok. And the way Jake then went at the taps made him surprised that the chrome didn't all peel away.

But it was when Jake began on the already spotless floor that Paul began to realise there was no end in sight. That Jake had probably been going in circles since he got sent home.

"Jake. Come here." He finally said.

Jake spared him a glance, no more.

"I'm nearly done," he promised, a hitch in his voice. "I swear. I am."

"No. Now." Paul insisted.

"No. No, I can't," Jake sounded half panicked again.

Paul fell silent, decided to let Jake think he was letting it go. Until Jake walked past him and then he reached out and caught him, and pulled him into his arms.

If he hadn't already been worried about Jake and if he was crazy and what he'd told people about him then he might have kissed him. Pulled him towards the bedroom and cuddled him and if that led to something else, then that was good, too. Told him how pretty his eyes were or something. Tried to distract him somehow.

As it was, he didn't know how.

Jake let Paul hold him though. He rested his head against his chest and just let him hold him.

Paul wondered what to do next.

"Ok," he whispered finally. "I'm going to be blunt, ok?" Jake eventually gave a tiny nod. "Now. We both know there's something wrong, right?" Jake gave another reluctant nod. "Jake, I want to help you with this. And if that means I have to bully you into coming with me to see a doctor then that's how it is. But we're going, Jake. Now. Right now. And you don't get to argue because I'm not giving you a choice. If I have to carry you out of here kicking and screaming then that's what's going to happen. So you might as well resign yourself to going. Now. Where are your shoes?"

Jake shrank, but he didn't argue.

And it wasn't long before he had shoes on and Paul had half steered him to his car and was driving him to the doctors.

While Jake looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but there.

*****

Paul waited outside the psychologist's room. He'd started bringing books to read, since he'd gone through the magazines the first few days. Weeks ago now.

Jake had had a lot of visits. For hours at once, days in a row, a lot of the time.

They did seem to be helping. Especially considering that the first week it had sometimes taken an hour or two to get Jake out of the house. Sometimes it had even taken a phone call to the psychologist to help to get him calm enough to leave.

Now Jake answered the door when Paul arrived and came to the car without even shaking. Now Jake didn't seem to sweep the inside of his house with his eyes before he left as if to make sure everything was still as sterile and clean as it had been moments before.

So the visits definitely seemed to be helping. And Paul was so glad that he didn't dare look into it more. Jake went quiet after the sessions, and while he was desperately curious about what the psychologist talked about with him, but he didn't want to ask. But Jake certainly didn't volunteer any information.

He'd spoken to Hillary, and thank god she'd understood, put Jake on sick leave. And he'd spoken to the higher ups to make sure no one cared he was leaving work every day for a couple of hours to take Jake where he needed to go. He just wasn't sure Jake would do it if he didn't prod him along.

Paul stood up with a smile for Jake when the door opened. He always did. He hoped it helped Jake to see someone friendly waiting for him on the way out.

The psychologist came out first.

He'd only seen her a couple of times.

"You must be Paul." She said to him, walking over and sticking her hand out. She was small and plain and somehow unthreatening. He liked her. "I'm Dr. Hoskins."

"Nice to meet you," He said politely, shaking her hand. Jake had come out behind her. He was looking small today, looking at the floor. He sat down and seemed to deflate.

Paul wanted to go over and put an arm around him. Hold him. Something.

"Can I talk to you for a few moments?" Dr. Hoskins asked him.

He blinked. She wanted to talk to him?

"Of course..." He agreed, giving Jake another glance. He hadn't moved.

Dr. Hoskin's office was cluttered and felt safe and warm. But Paul couldn't have imagined that Jake would have been able to walk in it without trying to tidy it those first days.

"Have a seat." She didn't lead him across to the desk, but across to a couple of couches by the window.

"So how's Jake doing?" He asked her, fully expecting her to tell him she couldn't tell him anything due to client confidentiality clauses or something.

"Better." She said simply, smiling. "I think we got to him in time."

"In time?" he asked, feeling slightly surprised. Maybe Jake had said she could talk to him. "What does that mean?"

"Paul. Jake has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I'm sure you've heard of it. It gets a fair amount of publicity." Paul nodded slowly. Yeah. He'd heard of that. "What is means is that there's a circuit in his brain that's not functioning like it should. Instead of a thought being followed through, he gets stuck on a loop. There are things he can't stop thinking about. That's the Obsessive part. The Compulsive part is the fact that these repetitive thoughts compel him to perform actions. And those actions only reinforce the thoughts, so the cycle repeats itself."