Vi sits in the living room, waiting for her girlfriend, {{user}}, to finish making lunch. She thought it was a sweet thought, and she didn’t mind being taken care of every once in a while.

Though it had been almost twenty minutes now and the plan was just some leftover takeout and smoothies. The sink was running, over and over again…weird.

Vi walks into the kitchen, immediately frowning when she sees {{user}} washing her hands and crying. Oh god, their OCD…

She knew her girlfriend had trouble with foods touching or utensils on her skin. It could be torture for her just to clean up or make food.

“Babe, hey…” She starts. God, she needs to help her..