The Five Senses of Love

Disclaimer: I do not own DC/MK.

Sight

He had messy hair. Just-got-of-bed look. Bright blue eyes. A grin that lit up his whole face. Long-limbed but agile. He had hands of a magician - slender fingers that were expert in drawing roses from thin air and coaxing smiles from her face. Well-trained in the art of smoke and mirrors - he was all smoke and mirrors. He was the class clown. Stage-hog. A goblin for spotlight. Sometimes a total drama queen.

Simply put, he was eye-catching.

Never satiated with an audience of one.

(But she knew that already, didn't she?)

Smell

Soap. Fresh laundry.

(Well, that was obvious.)

Sometimes, after PE, when the boys scrambled back to class seconds before the bell rang, the white undershirt clinging longingly under the black uniform, there was a certain musky smell that lingered at the base of his neck. She couldn't put a finger on it what it smelled like, but it wasn't bad.

It actually smelled sort of good.

("Is there something on my neck?")

("No.")

Not that she would ever tell.

Ever.

Hearing

Oh, the boy talked. Non-stop, some days. He knew what/when/how to touch a nerve. Always the teasing. The constant "Your-father-can't-catch-KID-even-if-he-dances-right-in-front-of-the-task-squad-on-his-head" (Which, in an absolutely bizarre twist of events, proved to be true two nights later) and "Aoko-are-you-really-sure-you're-a-girl?"

And of course, "What colour are they today, Aoko?"

(Thwack.)

("Shut up, Kaito.")

Please don't.

She liked his voice.

The nights when the house gorged and gorged on the silence until there was no more silence but muted nothingness, he slinked through the window. Like a cat. His grin, wide and glistening white, was the lone crescent moon that lit up the night.

Aoko.

She liked how he called her name. Aoko, Aoko, Aoko. Blue Child. No reserved -kuns or formal -sans. Just Aoko. Warm and affectionate in its simplicity.

("Kaito.")

("What?")

("Kaaaito.")

("What, Aoko?")

("Nothing.")

She lied. It was everything.

Taste

Chocolate. Milk Chocolate.

Touch

He was air; around her, here, there, everywhere.

But where?

A breeze grazing past her cheeks.

He was -

("Right here.")

A/n: I haven't penned something serious in a while... anyways, click on the green button below and tell me what you think ^^.