Hey Kate,

So I'm lying in bed again, unable to fall asleep. I've been so physically exhausted lately, and I blame my mind because I can't will it to stop over thinking. My thoughts are rampant, creating these visceral scenarios. Sometimes I can see myself saying, 'the hell with it,' and I come and kick down the door to your father's cabin. Other times, I picture Josh there helping you through this and it makes me indignant, nauseous with envy. But above all, I can clearly see the moment you finally call and tell me that you miss me, and before you can even finish your sentence, I'm already in the car driving to you.

I guess I'm writing this out because I hope this will help calm my mind, free these thoughts, and give me a chance to clear some things up with you.

So let me start off by saying that, Kate, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I might hate your actions or this inexplicable line we've drawn, but my feelings towards you are so far from hateful.

You see, I know we've drawn this line between us, where we don't talk about what this is, what we feel, and how any conversation that ventures close to this unspoken law are so heavy with context...what I'm trying to say is that this is all so frustrating. I'm past the point of hearing my phone ring and praying that it's you on the other end, I've stopped pitying myself for that day in the hospital where I wore my heart on my sleeve and you pushed me away.

I know that I drove you nuts in the beginning, Kate. I basically wormed my way into your life, and at the time, I enjoyed how much I was getting under your skin. But you know what, Kate? I also saw the day that it all changed. When my presence by your side wasn't an annoyance, that even though you still rolled your eyes at some of my theories, you genuinely listened to them; I saw the day we became partners. I know that my coping mechanism is to make things light, to hide behind my jokes and I know that yours is to run—we are both guilty of our chosen survival instincts, Kate—so I'm not blaming you. But as the days carried on, that line between us became blurry, and I can't count the amount of times where my actions were dictated by this invisible line.

That's what's so different about that day in the cemetery, Kate. It was just you and me, the stained grass, and the line was gone. You were lying there in front of me and that stupid, damn line was a moot point. There's never a right moment. There's never going to be the perfect time. We live our lives day by day waiting for God knows what, Kate…a sign that reads, 'now'? I trusted you to call; I trusted that you would let me in when the time was right. And you know what, Kate? Yes, it's scary to think about, but it's real and I spilled my heart out to you because you were dying right in front of me. I had no choice—I hate that—but the timing doesn't make what I said any less true. And I'm not taking it back, no matter how many times I let myself deny I've ever felt it.

But right now, I'm in this sleepy haze, where my mind is loud, and all I can think about is you.

I love you, Kate. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Castle

A/N: Sorry for the delay! As always, thank you for reading.