Thank you.
Do you remember, honey, the day we met? On that rainy day with the cloudy skies thick with smog. An accident down the street created a scent of gas and loss, and it was already on the news that the passengers didn't make it. All of our peers lined up down the street, necks craning and eyebrows furrowed; some leaked a few tears, others shouted out statements of wonder. But you were different - you just looked on. And in that instance I knew that you were seeing something different, something that only your eyes could see. An experience gave you that haunted look. My father was at the scene, too, and from my spot hovering near the curb, my father gazed at me and gave me a look as if to say, AND THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANT YOU DRIVING. I looked away. But when I looked back at you, you were submerged into a different world yet again - though this time, you hid behind a camera. Your photos were in the school newspaper the next day. Do you remember, honey?
Do you remember, honey, the day we first talked? The conversation was not a very verbose one, not a very deep one that you and I were both capable of instigating. In fact, it was a discussion that praised your bravery but questioned your stupidity. Oh, and the way your face lit up when I turned around; how you smiled and laughed breathlessly, how you managed to supress a blush that would flare up as soon as my back was turned. How giddy and girly and special I felt on the inside, just from establishing a chat with a stranger (because that's what you were to me at the time). And it felt stupid - I felt stupid, something I was never used to - to be that adolescent enough to get all flustered over a mere swapping of pointless words and little smiles with the latent looks. It didn't make sense to me. Do you remember, honey?
Do you remember, honey, the day we first kissed? It was a night of stress and intense staring and surprises around every corner, hiding and poking out to tease like a childhood game. Answers were just out of reach, and I almost had them from you, but you wouldn't talk. Either you couldn't find the right thing to say or you just didn't trust me enough. So I rolled my eyes and almost gave up on you; who was I kidding? You were broken and losing yourself. I could only sympathize enough to some degree before I got annoyed with the lack of motivation and drive, and you wewere certainly lacking in it - as far as I could tell. But I was wrong - something that I hate more than feeling stupid - and there came another surprise, but an answer tagged along with it. The webbing clung to my skirt and from out of your hand...? It puzzled me, but there was no time for elaborating because you yanked and I fell into your arms. Just like that. And then your lips were on mine, hard but gentle and hesitant; absolutely scared, your lips were. I kissed you back because it had been so long since my last one, and if I were to choose anyone to press my mouth to, it would probably be yours. You weren't just a friend to me, anymore. Do you remember, honey?
Do you remember, honey, the day you let me see you cry? That horrible day of schooling with the sun shining and taunting and the sky a cloudless, crystalline blue; the weather was perfect. Yet I felt like the world should be flooding, mourning, crying with you and crying silently with me as I fought back tears in the front row and you let them slide - just this once - in the back row. A part of you was gone, but at the time, I didn't know how heavy the toll it took on you was. I was foolish and stupid for not seeing it until days to come. I tried to comfort as best as I could, tried truly hard, but you pushed me away; you were too broken to even attempt amendment. Do you remember, honey?
Do you remember, honey, when I saw you look death in the eyes? When I saw my own life flash, but only because yours was threatened? I saw the future instead of the past, though; I saw life without you. Oh, how inconsequential it seemed. Standing - or rather sitting in a squad car - below the building you fought for your life on, I froze for the first time - I didn't think, I didn't act. Because life without you seemed inconsequential, pointless. The nostalgic impression you had on me was scary but addictive; if you were a drug, I was your number one buyer. And like a crack patient, there was only so much time you could take without your necessity. Do you remember, honey?
Do you remember, honey, the day you said good-bye? Finally, the world caught up to us and decided to grieve; rain came down in torrential beefs and drove cars off the roads, into other cars and even buildings. Just like the first day I saw you. You opened the door and I realized immediately that the repairs I had performed on you had vanished, dissolved into nothing as if they were never there in the first place. I had my suspicions they were forcibly taken out (and by you; traitor). Angry tears sprung to my eyes, mingling and mixing with the previous ones that had formed there before from the pain of my own loss. And I finally understood then what you had seen that first day we met: an empty place. A mother, father and uncle were taken from you; a hero and a father was taken from me. Nothing would replace them. That overturned, scrap-metal car we saw that day was just a representation of our hearts mangled to almost nothing, our souls struggling to remain whole. I thought I would at least have you to hold. But yet - you surprised me again. You couldn't do this anymore. I tried to find out why; you wouldn't answer. I asked if it was him, my father; you wouldn't answer. So I turned and I left. I screamed and cried even worse when I got home. I kicked the walls and pounded my fists against my door (you were the last thing I had and now you were gone?), enough to the point where my youngest brother cried. He was scared and clutched at my mother, asking her from the other side of my door as to why Gwennie was so angry. She didn't know. At night, the memories came back. Not just my childhood memories of him, but the new, teenage memories of you: you with your crinkle-eyed grins and soft gazes, your feather-light touches and cheeky laughs. Your inexplicable strength and stamina, but your suckering for sappy movies, like The Titanic. I wanted to watch that with you and you promised me you would. Do you remember, honey?
I do.
Made as a parting gesture from the Fanfiction world. For those who have stuck with me, the gratefullness I give to you will never cease. You are everything to me. Thank you, truly.
-my love addiction