A/N : ...Well, it was in English class and we were talking about different types of addictions; We were told to write about an addiction of any types, and this is what happened.

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I like the way you look. When you look at me. Your dark hair, the way it seem so messy - becomes so messy despite the many attempts you try to keep it down. How it looks like a dark, fluffy mushroom; the way it frames your face so perfectly. Your eyes that are always on me, as if you don't think I notice the fact that you're staring at me. The way they brighten up when something interesting catches their attention...

And I find your depressed face even cuter; the times when you would be looking down.

I like the sound of your voice; the way you talk. The soft whispers in my ear when I'm sleeping; when it's mumbling for me to wake up. When you're calling my name like it's the only thing you knows. The many threats you make; the things you say to me when we're alone. Such dirty words; such a delicate mouth. ...The way it smiles and pouts, sometimes in a frown when you're distracted or thinking.

The way it screams when I do something you like; the short gasps and whimpers.

I like your legs; the slenderness and the way they feel so smooth. When they're wrapped around my waist and pulling me even closer. And the way your hands would play along; pulling, grasping anything you can reach. The sheets. The mattress. My shoulders. My hair. Anything you could get those pretty hands of yours on.

I like the way you dress; when you're wearing sleepwear too big for you and something about those white socks you wear that drive me crazy. How your hair is so messy after a shower; a fluffy mess when you wake up in the morning. When you're rubbing sleep out of your eyes and pulling me away from my coffee and back to bed with you.

I like how you're so bossy; the way you make me wear my tie "the right way." Not on my head. Not loose around my neck. Tight, but not 'uncomfortably tight,' angled right and perfectly symmetrical. But then you would go and pull it down as soon as I get it on; grabbing it and pulling me close, telling me you feel naughtier this way. Before we make love. How you would make me push you down and tie your hands together, letting me 'have my way with you,' knowing fully well that you don't need your hands tied up to 'feel naughtier.'

I like your unusual eating habits; when you're eating a chocolate cake I made you and instead of using a fork, you use your hands. When it's just 'us two,' and you're forcing my hand on the cake and you're licking each individual fingers clean, telling me that it's rude to play with your food.

I like the way you sleep; when you sleep next to me. When your body is in a mess, not at all graceful. When you're mumbling my name and unconsciously putting my arm around you; like I don't notice that you're not fully asleep.

I like your silly ways of amusing yourself; be it making me do random things or beating the shit out of me. When you're on top of me, your forehead against my chest, your breathing erratic and hands clutching my shirt, and you're telling me you want to 'do it' now.

I like your angry side, because it's cute. When I buy you flowers or put one in your hair and you're scolding me like I did something wrong. When I'm touching you 'inappropriately' - as you say when I'm hugging you - and you're threatening to break my fingers. I like that violent side; when you're throwing me to the ground and you're playfully biting on my bottom lip - because you think it's sexy -, growling like a predator about to devour its prey.

I like everything about you. Your obsession with symmetry. Your abnormal pale skin. The unnoticeable unevenness of your eyes. Your thick coarse hair that hide that imperfection. The way your body smell like vanilla soap. The sleek movement of your fingers. The way you stare at me. The faces you would make when we're in bed; the screams that fall when we're together.

I like the little freckles that decorate against the skin of your hipbone. The place you hate the most because you think it's asymmetrical; the way the angels' kisses fell. Because you think those 'dirty brown dots' look like dirt. Or ants; no matter how many times you childishly try to 'remove' them, they never go away.

...And I think that little flaw of imperfection makes me love you even more.

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But it's more of an obsession.

A/N : I don't think it makes sense, because, well... it's pretty OOC and you can't really tell if it's really 8018 -aside from the fact that it's in this category and the fact that it said 'dark hair'/'mushroom'/'pale skin'/'violent'/etc - and it just seem like a random drabble about two random people. It was a spur of the moment between a cross with addictions & fantasizing about 8018 in class. So, it doesn't need to make sense. Just as long as it's an okay read to pass the time.