(Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda, obviously.)
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Five Senses
I remember that day vividly. I remember how your vibrant red hair looked under the sun, sticking in million different directions and how I had to stop myself from reaching and running my fingers through it. The way you walked beside me, a bit slower than your usual hurried gait so that you'd fall into step with me, and the way you turned back and grinned at me when you realized I was still falling behind despite your efforts. You didn't know you had such a disarming smile; which was exactly one of the reasons why it was so. Then again, you were always a sight to behold; smiling or otherwise.
Even now, when I walk down that street, your smell reaches me; the ghost of that damn smell is both like salvation and torture. It surrounds me in such a way that for a moment, I am absolutely certain that if I turn around you will be there smirking at me like you always do, teasing me for thinking you would actually leave. The image is burned into my memory so clearly that I know for certain if I had the talent, I would be able to paint it in all its beauty without any difficulty; how that most gentle smile touched your lips softly and took the place of the ever-present smirk for that one glorious moment, the way your eyes softened just as you uttered those three words that would be imprinted in my mind till the day I die.
I brace myself for another session of salvation and torture as I make my way down the street. Ah, and just as expected, there it is. I sigh as a wave of nostalgia hits me and I keep walking, careful to keep my gaze lowered like I do everytime, because one sense is enough to overwhelm me. I don't trust my sanity enough to be sure your hallucination won't greet me at the exact spot you changed my life with that eight letter sentence.
Med school has already teached me what a warped thing the human brain is, so I'm not all that surprised when it comes up with another way to screw with me as I hear you, but I am obviously more prepared and in-check than my own brain gives me credit for, because I am actually able to continue without lifting my head or giving any indication that my sanity is slowly slipping away.
But that doesn't mean that I'm overly confident I won't be tempted to just take a peek, so I quicken my pace. Before I can get too far, someone grabs my arm and the touch feels like electric shock, almost like I was tasered. It's at that moment that I realize without turning around that you are very much real and I am, somehow, not yet insane. I can't bring myself to move. I feel like if I turn around to see that I'm wrong, the hollowness inside me that is already at its limit will just swallow me up until there is nothing left of me. There is only so much devastation one can bear, after all.
The decision is taken out of my hands as the person that grabbed me forces me to turn around; and then the sun is shining again, birds start chirping merrily and the sepia colours around me turn bright as you stare right into my eyes. Your smile is so soft that it almost hurts to look, and your eyes showing million emotions that I am guessing are mirrored in mine.
Then your lips are on mine; and it's like coming home, like drinking ice-cold water in the desert and I am finally whole. The months we spent away from each other don't exist because we are in a timeless place where nothing and nobody but two of us exist and I don't doubt for a second that this is as close as it gets to perfection. Kissing you feels exactly the same but somehow it gets better every time. My arms find their rightful place around your neck and I hold on tight because as silly as it may be, I am still somewhat afraid you are just going to dissapear into thin air. I sigh blissfully against your lips before pressing mine harder against them. After all, I've always liked taste the most out of five senses.