Work Text:
Think I just remembered something
I think I left the faucet running
Now my words are filling up the tub
Darling, you're just soaking in it
But I know you'll get out the minute
You notice all your fingers pruning up
They say that each doubt and single piece of regret are like drops of water, dripping one by one into the collective bathtub of the mind. Each time a negative thought crept through, one more drop would fall into the awaiting fill below. Growing and filling itself over the course of the days, months, years, centuries. By now, likely almost full to the brim, filled with bubbles and awaiting for it's occupant to sink down into it's depths.
At least, that was how Oliver thought about it. It was what made sense, each other analogy that he would come across describing how he felt didn't sit quite right. He supposed it was because everything else felt to vast for his taste, this one felt more... Personal. Ironic, in a way. Just the mere thought of the constant and slow drips, each time he faked a smile. Each time he hid his true feelings. Each time he doubted a decision that was made. Each time he felt a twinge of regret. God only knew how strange it was, thinking this way even as he allowed himself to slip down into the wall of bubbles clinging to the top of the water.
The slow drip-dropping was what scared him, knowing full well that at any time, he could sink into that warm water and allow it to completely overflow. Drop the facade that he had been cultivating for so many years, release every single negative emotion and thought that he had bottled up for so long.
Scream.
Cry.
Let out all of the pent up frustration, sadness, anger, fear, anxiety, doubt, regret.
Or, he could choose the opposite route.
Allow himself to sink underneath the water with the scent of the lavender and rose bubbles to bring him back to ease, to let the inevitable happen. To drown himself in the consciousness that was his reality. In a way, such a thought was comforting. To keep the happy-go-lucky persona that he had cultivated, continue to put others before himself. Smile, be a listening ear. Never putting himself first.
Maybe it was because Oliver felt as though he didn't deserve what he had, the latter option sounding far more appealing the more he thought about it. That warmth while slipping down into it was like a welcome home, those sweet floral notes bringing his constantly racing mind at ease.
Unable to stop the sigh, he slid further down into the waiting hands of the water to where his nose barely touched the thin film. As tempting as it was to drop further, the result wouldn't be worth it in the end. At least for now, Oliver was able to ease his anxious mind. He was ok, just for the sake of the reminder that he was bigger than his bathtub swirling with negativity threatening to pull him under.
Eye lids fluttered closed, merely allowing himself to succumb to the comfort he found himself in. The tranquility that he needed at that moment, not letting himself to continue to slip down and suffocate in the sickeningly sweet combination of water and bubbles.
For now, he won against that ever-waiting bathtub of his mind. Oliver wasn't naive to the fact that it would always be there, waiting for him for if and when he did ever lose that constant battle. Waiting for the games he played to end, and just succumb to the inevitable.
I'm tired of being careful, tiptoe, trying to keep the water warm
Let me under your skin
Uh-oh, there it goes, I said too much, it overflowed
Why do I always spill?