Chapter 3--
Gasp Oh god. Right there.
Make the pounding stop.
One step at a time. Don't fall. Don't you dare fucking fall.
Tangled limbs. Hair grabbing. Constant screaming. Constant bliss.
Sway. Thump. I'm thrashing in the air.
His fingers intertwine with hers in the afterglow.
My hands grab onto a metal knob. I sit hoping the lack of movement on my parts slows down the pounding. No luck. With whatever strength I have left I propel upwards and open the door. Pitch black. Like my heart.
In the unconscious world, she does not embody evil and he does not reflect her. Guard down with no control, her head is nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Finding the peace within. Dwelling on the now. His fingers softly graze down her face. I love you does not begin to define what they feel for the other. It's an understatement not worthy of them. Feelings do not coincide with words.
I need you. Come back to me.
Blackout.
---
Photos encase a flitting moment. Preserving an emotion, action, anything. Evoking something within us. They're also a chronicle of history. Somewhere neutrality can exist in that you wouldn't be able to find somewhere else. Yes, the perspective of the photographer at hand can be biased but they don't always have total control of what they end up capturing.
I don't know where Sebastian and I went wrong. Maybe we were both too deluded to notice that the bliss between us was slowly crumbling before our eyes. Living an illusion. Living in a perfect, framed photo. Looking back at the few photos that were taken (seeing as how it would be totally irrational and illogical if one of us whipped out a camera right in the middle of a serious heated argument), I can grasp the loose pieces that caused such destruction. Being two of a kind can have its limitations.
---
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
---
Flash. Lights flash everywhere around me.
---
"What defines us as humans?"
"Admitting that we're all instinctively fucked up."
---
With a flick of a hand, I am submerged in red and glimpses. Glimpses into moving life. It never stops. No matter how much you want it to stop.
---
POUND.
POUND.
POUND.
Oh god, my head.
---
Cramped inside that little booth, they both tried to hide their emotions. Stare straight ahead and slowly curve your mouth into a slight smirk. Back straight.
3, 2, …
He looks over to her in a quick flash of adoration before he decides to tickle her right as the booth took their first photo. Laughter escaped and she came to the realization that she didn't mind at all.
Poke. Jab. Laugh.
Such a simple concept and cycle.
Laugh till you can't, and you fall.
---
Symphony of liquid, chemicals, pans, metal.
Pieces of the past resurfacing itself.
Must reach the end of the symphony.
---
Flash, flash, flash.
Event of the year. Photographers, paparazzi from every major tabloid out there.
He passed her while slightly grazing his hand over her exposed back before disappearing in the crowd again. Taboo of them to be seen together in public, but yet he risked it anyways.
The next morning, a photo showed up in the society pages. A demure smirk on his face as he looked down at her just as his hand left her back. Her face was turned towards him with a bright smile. A quick flash and a split second later it disappeared; but the camera doesn't catch that, just the moment of contentment and happiness. That touch had sent shivers up her spine. How she loathed and hated him for it.
---
POUND.
POUND.
POUND.
Ugh… wtf is going on?
Sounds and voices drift in and out. Someone's tugging at my eyes. My head soon zones everything out and only focuses on some middle eastern instrument. Within you. Without you. A wave. Splash splash.
Screaming voices drift in and out through the music. Fuck the screaming. In. Out.
---
His hand swipes hers into his palm; pulling her toward him as he secures an arm around her tiny shoulders. Laughter, adoration, lust enraptures them as they exit into the cool night air.
Yellow Submarine.
---
"Tur…at…amn…zic…f…"
Stop the interruptions!
"Shut the fuck up. I'm trying to focus on the goddamn music here!!"
Oh god. Yelling is not good. I grab my forehead in pain.
POUND.
"…g… ryn…body… ve…ere…!!!"
Darkness within.
---
Yell. Argue. Scream. Throw anything in sight. Struggle. Sex. Glow.
It was always so simple with the both of them. The simplicity made her smile. A recurring cycle. A cycle of predictability and control.
---
"Kathryn…"
POUND. Pound. pound…
Coolness suddenly spread around my forehead and the burning slowed.
"Jesus… how fucking long have you been in here?"
I sat up a little while choosing not to open my eyes. Focus was not on my current menu and I'd prefer for it to stay that way for a while.
Pound…
Pressing my index fingers on my temple points and softly rubbing them, I began to recall some memory flashes.
Shots of alcohol.
Stench. Constant swearing.
Throw, kick, thrash.
Doorknob.
Exposure of photos.
Collapse.
A sniffle escaped before I could think and remember someone was in front of me, most likely watching my every move.
Lift one eye lid up. And the next.
A blond too-handsome-to-be-straight-especially-with-the-clothes met my eyes. Blurry but still distinctive.
Thank god. It was just Tuttle.
"Kathryn, what's going on? Why is Valmont's room in shambles? And why the fuck are you passed out in his darkroom? I've been trying to get a hold…"
"Could you slow the fuck down Blaine? If you haven't fucking noticed, I'm still nursing one hell of a hangover and your incessant questions aren't helping me get back to any sense of what the word lucid means. Jesus."
"Well forgive me if I'm concerned. I haven't been able to reach you for a long ass time Kathryn. You've completely dropped off the social radar. People have been wondering if you died or something…"
I groan and slap a hand over his mouth. When I can tell he was going to remain quiet, I withdraw my hand and do a "tone it down a little" hand gesture.
He sighes and examines me a little.
"Ok, how bout I help you up and get you to a bed? Grab some warm tea, some cookies for you and then you can tell me what the fuck's been going on. Sound good?"
I nod and he extends his arm out.
Sorry it took so long for me to get this out. College can do that to you. Anyways, enjoy.
S: Leave something long this time. You know I love it when you say more than just "it was great". Come on, throw me a bone ;)