Staring at the blank Word document, he tapped his fingers on the keyboard. A habit? No, it was habitual. If his fingers didn’t tap the keys a certain way, nothing would happen. The Word document would remain blank, and Harold Crisp wouldn’t have any money in the bank.
Reaching up he pushed his glasses atop his head, and ran his hands over his face. One, two, three times, that was all it took before he looked back at the computer screen.
He sighed deeply, light eyes blinking at the brightness of the turned on overhead light.
“Are you ever coming to bed?” A still sleep filled voice asked from the doorway.
Harold turned around in his chair, brown eyebrow raised at the man in the doorway.
A lean brunette leaned heavily against the doorway. His brown eyes were sleepy, and hair all askew as he looked at his lover. Harold couldn’t help but smile at him. Glancing back over to the computer screen he sighed again, “Can’t, I’ve got to finish this up before I can come to bed, Tim.” He offered him a soft apologetic smile.
Tim walked slowly into the room and eyed the computer screen before yawning. “It doesn’t even look like you’ve started.” He muttered, running his hands over his lightly whiskered face.
Harold looked back at the screen himself, and sighed again. “Yeah, I’m stumped. I have no idea what to write about.”
Lifting a shoulder Tim looked at him, “I don’t know what to tell you, babe. I just wish you’d come to bed. You know I can’t sleep unless you’re with me.” He pouted at him, lower lip quivering slightly.
Chuckling Harold shook his head, “You know I can’t until I’ve written my column. Unless you want to live in a cardboard box that is, Tim.” Reaching over he pinched Tim’s hip through the fabric of his boxers.
Tim made a face at the thought, “You’re right. I don’t want to live in a cardboard box.” He shrugged then leaned down, giving Harold a light kiss on the lips. “Come to bed whenever, even though I have to work tomorrow, and I’ll be grumpy from no sleep.” He smirked, kissing his lover’s nose before walking towards the door. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, “You need anything?”
Harold shook his head, “Nah, I’m good babe. I’ll be to bed shortly.” He smiled as Tim nodded and headed out after flipping the light off.
He turned looking back at the blank screen, and tapped his fingers on the keyboard again. The only thing he could think about was going to bed, and possibly getting Tim to shave. Hopefully the man would do it in the morning. Harold could tolerate it, but at the same time he couldn’t. He tapped his fingers on the keyboard again. Damn, he wished he could come up with an idea.
Leaning back in his chair he laced his fingers together, and let them rest on his stomach. Every five breaths he’d wiggle his fingers, and stop before the next breath.
A smile tugged up the corners of his lips as he heard Tim moan, and roll over. His poor baby, not being able to sleep without him there; tossing and turning in their queen sized bed. Harold shook his head, twice, before glaring at the computer.
A thought crossed his mind, dare he write about his condition? His obsessive compulsive disorder, a disorder he’d had since he was very young.
At first it had been worse, but over the years Harold had managed to curb the want to do things over, and over again. Tim had helped a lot after they’d met, but Harold had been afraid to tell his new lover about his condition. The way he’d seen it Tim would have probably seen him as a loony and not have any more to do with him.
That, of course, was one of the few times Harold had been wrong. Tim had just lifted a shoulder and told him that ‘everyone has some sort of mental instability. Don’t worry about it and overlook mine.’ They’d laughed at that, but Harold soon found that Tim wasn’t joking.
Tim was a dependant, clingy, needy, and all three revolved to Harold. Tim had told Harold that he loved him after only seeing him three times. That in it’s self had almost scared Harold away. If he hadn’t have felt some sort of emotion towards Tim it would have. Harold wouldn’t say that the feeling had been absolutely mutual, but there was something there.
The two of them had been inseparable ever since. Three years ago, almost to the day, if Harold wasn’t mistaken.
He smiled as he thought, and took in one deep breath. He’d face his demons, and write about his disorder in his column this week. After all, it couldn’t be that bad could it?
Addiction by lady_match
Author's Notes:
Harold is trying to work, much to Tim's dismay.