5 Seconds of Summer Preferences.

Calum: "Let's go Y/N." Calum called to you. You were standing in the bathroom, washing your hands. You let the antibacterial soap fall on your hand. You had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and you washed your hands what felt like a hundred times a day. You were scrubbing your hands, them already raw from years of the same, when Calum walked into the doorway. "Babe, please" he whispered, and you glared at him in the mirror. He knew how hard this was for you. "They're clean." he said, and you turned. Calum knew how you felt about this. Like the world was collapsing around you if you didn't wash the germs off you. You felt like you were going to get sick, or worse, if you didn't clean your hands off. Calum knew all that, and it wasn't fair that he was doing this. "You don't get it Cal. Go away" you said, storming past him. "Y/N wait." Calum called after you. He grabbed your arm and turned you towards him. "You're right. I don't get it. I wish I did because then I would know how to approach you. And how to help you. I'm sorry" he said, and you bowed your head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't get mad at you." you said. Calum shook his head, and went to speak, but you kissed him. He smiled into the kiss, and you smiled too. "Whenever you're ready baby girl" he said. "I am" you whispered, taking his hand.

Michael: You and Michael were going out of town. You had both woken up late, and you were trying to rush out of your place to catch the plane. Michael was rushing to the car with his last bag. "Okay." he said, gasping for air getting in the cab "Let's go". You felt your anxiety rise. "Woah, wait wait." you said as the driver inched down the driveway. "What?" Michael said, frustrated. He already knew what it was, but he couldn't believe you were doing this now. "I, uh, need to use the bathroom" you lied, opening the door. "They have those at the airport." the driver said, trying to be helpful, as you slammed the door. Michael opened his door and rushed after you. You ran into the house and Michael trailed you. You rushed to the stove and checked the dials. "Y/N." Michael said, walking in the door. "Just give me one second." you said, going to check the faucets. Michael scowled at you as you ran by. You did your rounds, checking every room. You were met with a very frustrated Michael. "I'm sorry." you whispered, and you went out the door first. "Don't be sorry," Michael called after you, and you turned back. "Maybe I should try and be more understanding." He said, as you slipped in the cab. You smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

Ashton: You stood in the doorway, opening and closing the door. You needed to close it a good number of times. You got to twelve and felt good, so you went through. Ashton was pretty used to your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He didn't even bat an eyelash at your behaviours any more. Until today. You were going into the kitchen, and you went through the same process. You opened and shut the door once, then twice, three times and continued. You got to eight when Ashton emerged from his workroom. "Seriously? Do you need to do that right now Y/N? I am trying to think!" he shouted, and you turned. Tears welled in your eyes, and Ashton immediately felt bad. You could usually control your convulsions. But some days, you just couldn't. Today was one of those days, and you were furious Ashton called you out on this. "You know what Ash, how dare you? I work so hard every day trying to keep from doing things that I know annoy you. Every time I open a door, I fight to not slam it shut. Every time I sit in a chair, I battle to not stand back up. You don't get it. You don't appreciate how hard I try." you said, pushing past him. "Y/N wait." he said. You stormed off and went to walk through the bedroom door, but you couldn't. You slammed it, and opened it again. It still didn't feel right. You groaned loudly, before falling to the floor in tears. Ashton wrapped his arms around you. "I love you, and I am so sorry" he said, and you nodded. "You're incredible. I am so proud of how far you've come. Remember, you used to have to do every single thing over and over again. Now you can go days without it. You're amazing" he said, and you cried into his shoulder. Knowing Ashton could see your progress made you feel much better.

Luke: You and Luke were out to eat with the boys. The waiter approached your table, and smiled at the group. "Okay, I'll take your orders?" the waiter said, smiling at Luke. "I'll get the chicken parmesan please." he said, and the waiter smiled as he wrote. He turned to you and you smiled. "Can I get the hamburger and fries, but could I please get the fries on a different plate." you said. The waiter scrunched his nose before writing out your request. He took the orders of the rest of the boys, and walked away. Michael shot Luke a weird look, and Luke shook his head. You caught it, and immediately felt self conscious. You had OCD and you couldn't eat food that was touching and you had to eat it in a specific order. As the food was delivered, the waiter set down two plates in front of you. "Your burger and fries." he smiled, and you shot him a thank you smile. As he walked away, Calum turned to you. "Why?" he said, pointing to your plates. You opened your mouth to answer, but Michael spoke quicker. "She's a weirdo." he laughed, and you looked up at him. He could see you were hurt, and he shut his mouth to keep more jokes from coming out. "Excuse me." you said, standing, but you felt Luke's hand grab your wrist. "Do any of you know what OCD is?" He asked. "Like, when people count all the time and stuff?" Ashton asked, eating a fork full of pasta. "That's one type," you started, Luke squeezing your wrist. "I have OCD, I have this feeling where I can't eat foods that touch. I eat all of one food at a time, then go to the next." The boys looked shocked. "What if you don't?" Calum asked, inquisitively. "I just get a feeling like something bad is going to happen. I'm going to get sick or choke or something." you explained, knowing there was more to it but you didn't want to get into it. "I'm really sorry" Michael said, and you smiled. "Don't worry about it." you said, sitting down. You felt eyes on you as you ate, and while it was uncomfortable, you were glad the boys knew and wanted to know about your disorder. Luke beamed, proud of you for talking about your issues.

(A/N: I don't suffer from this disorder. I did my best to talk about it with as much knowledge as I can. I hope I did a good job. To those of you suffering, please know that you're not alone and that people around you love and support you. Including me. x)