Because my head space is here right now. And because I couldn't put this in Navigating Now, or I'd probably be killed in some sort of brutal fashion.
It's in the water, baby.
It's in your frequency.
It's in the water, baby.
It's between you and me.
Post-Blue ~ Placebo
"Kate, no."
His reality was fracturing, bursts of red sparking in his mind, jagged, sharp, lethal, glittering, glinting, the brutality of the moment fragmenting his every fiber, every nerve, every sliver that made him who he was. He was demolished, with nothing more than softly-spoken words from beautiful lips. The glide of them, the slickness, the mesmerizing vision of her, of this woman who he had known, who he had loved, who he had lived with, and for, and because of. It was too much. It was detonation. It was annihilation. It was the end.
This couldn't happen. No. Kateā¦
"Castle."
One word. That's all it took. One word, and he knew it was hopeless. Knew there was no chance at all, no way out, no escape, no moving back, forward, around or past. Nowhere left to go. For either of them. With a single word, his life was snuffed.
And he snapped. Reality shifted, tilted, slipped. Succumbed.
She'd used his own name against him, loaded it like a gun and fired it into his heart point blank. He could feel the burn, the agony, the piercing invasion of everything in her voice, her tone, could hear the obsession. Her sick, twisted, vile obsession. He had fought its putrid rot for so long, thought it was expunged. He was a fucking fool.
"You can't do this."
He was following a script, saying what fit the scene, using hollow words to give the impression of a fight but already done. Already resigned, defeated. He'd lost. And he knew with painful clarity that he'd never really won. The time together, the moments, the memories, the happiness, the joy: they were an illusion. His voice was dead, merely going through the motions. Just like them. It was already over.
He knew he should say more, because there were more lines, more dialogue, and he had to play his part. But the thought nauseated him, made him physically ill. His head spun, dizziness assaulting him. He stumbled slightly then recoiled when she instinctively jerked towards him, instinctively sought to support him.
"You stay away from me."
Her turn to recoil. Her turn for all of it. The realization, the agony, the burn. Shot point blank. Not the first time. Not the last.
Of that he was certain. And the certainty was too much. Just enough. The close.
"Get out."
Her eyes met his, shining. She wanted. He knew those eyes, saw the want. He knew when there was something there, and when there wasn't. And they were overflowing. Teeming. Brimming. He saw it all. So much. And nothing. Because they were empty. Empty of everything he needed. Everything he wanted.
"Leave."
And she did.
