Episode 27: Step By Step

Episode 27: Step By Step

"Are you okay?"

Leslie wiped at his damp forehead, glancing down at him concerned.

Christopher willfully looked away.

"I'm fine."

She scrambled up into a kneeling position. Her eyes were penetrating as they analyzed him.

"Are you sure? You look a little pale."

He ran a hand through his somewhat damped hair.

"It tends to happen when I...push myself beyond my limits."

"Limits? Of what?"

His eyes held her own as he nervously licked his lips.

"For starters, you."

Her face was a canvas for confusion.

Leslie felt it slowly starting to become hot as her brain registered what he was saying—that she was capable of pushing him beyond his limits. Flattery enveloped her, but at the same time it obviously wasn't a good thing in this case if he was put at a disadvantage.

Christopher caught the expression on her face and pointed between the two of them.

"I'm not usually this physically involved with anyone so when I am my body tends to kind of um...shut down for a lack of better words." He revealed, looking away almost bashfully.

She bit down onto her lips worriedly.

"Is that a condition? I'm sorry if that sounds dumb but I'm just trying to understand."

He sighed, head flopping against the material of the furniture beneath him. "I think it is, but it's not necessarily one I've been diagnosed with. Not completely like haphephobia. Maybe a cousin of it? I don't know, my therapist says it's strictly a psychological issue for me. Apparently I'd have to garner a deep level of trust for someone first in order to be intimate with them."

Her hands withdrew themselves as she sat up thoughtfully. "Oh."

He eyed her, afraid of what that reaction might have meant.

Oh? The little exclamation echoed in his head like a blaring alarm.

What did that mean for her?

The next second, Christopher was surprised to see her nervously playing with her fingers as she looked downwards asking, "Do you not trust me then?"

Right then he knew.

He'd never hated anything else in the world as much as the look on her face and the dejected tone of her voice in that moment.

"I..." His brows furrowed at why she'd even be asking that question with how much of himself he'd offered her. "Do I not seem to trust you? Is there something I've done to make you feel otherwise?"

Her eyes looked up at him and he saw a tinge of sadness within them.

"I don't know. You just said you needed to trust someone for them to touch you or vice versa."

"Yes, and that's why I kissed you a minute ago."

She looked at him, stunned at his bluntness.

"If I didn't have any ounce of trust for you or what we've developed these past months, I wouldn't have dared to."

"And what have we developed, Christopher?"

He gave her a warning with his eyes as he sensed her naturally seductive self resurface.

The one that liked to have things spelt out for her instead of running around trying to solve riddles and codes.

He was both relieved and threatened by it.

"You know what," he uttered almost pathetically. A responsive groan came afterwards as she smirked in amusement. "You live to make my life a living hell, don't you?"

"Who? Me? I'm rather angelic, don't you think?"

His eyes trailed onto her with a heavy dosage of what appeared to be entrapment.

Her grin deepened.

As she was face to face with him once more, his long lashes brushed her forehead as he looked straight at her. "There's always a price to pay for claiming to be on par with a celestial being."

She swallowed as his fingers grasped her chin.

"Though you're right to some extent," his eyes settled on her lips after memorizing every inch of her face.

She died and got resurrected at his next words.

"Heavenly face, sweet smile and angelic eyes but a sinful mouth."

"Do you want to indulge in some of those sins? That's why you speak of them? I'm willing to share."

"That's not what I..." Christopher closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to collect himself. "You always take a mile after given an inch."

"Too bad you can't go the extra mile tonight, old man." She said, patting the area above his chest bone after leaving him gaping with such a brutal joke.

"I'm afraid you'll faint from my heavenly face and sweet smile."

"You forgot 'angelic eyes'."

"And you forgot 'sinful mouth'." She grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

He could hardly contain himself.

"I tell you one serious piece of information about me and you manage to turn it into something mildly offensive—"

"And comical!"

He gave her an exasperated look. "—and comical at the same time. I don't know if I should be ticked off by this or applaud you for the latter."

"Oh, don't pout, Christopher."

"I'm not pouting."

"Your face says otherwise."

He turned onto his side to catch himself in the mirror.

The man looked as grumpy as he did yesterday.

"I look the same."

She crawled over to him, having his heart skip a beat for a concerning period. "Your eyes," her fingers traced the outline of them.

"I tell you they're your biggest traitors."

He instantly closed them, making her laugh.

"And I'm not making fun of you. I actually think it's pretty cute. Your condition, that is. It's like demisexuality. I think any partner would feel honored when their significant other is like that. It's a win in my opinion."

His eyes slowly reopened, peeping at her.

"Really?"

She cradled his cheeks. "Are you kidding me? Of course!"

His lips twitched.

Leslie got a bit lightheaded from seeing it.

"We just have to work on it. Step by step. By your pace."

In that moment, Christopher had an awakening as to what was so special about Leslie. No matter how many times he was absolutely insecure about an aspect of himself she always shot down his way of thinking. That whatever it was wasn't something to be ashamed of.

That realization should have rattled him to the core, but it had an oddly calming effect. He exhaled slowly. "Okay," he told her, trusting that this might very well turn out to be alright.

He might not completely have the confidence in himself like Leslie did when it came to a relationship, but he has her by his side.

That would make up for what he was lacking and beginning to learn about.

"Let's do that then."

***

"I won," he heard someone say from out of nowhere.

Christopher squinted from his position on the bed to see a slender silhouette by the bedroom door.

Leslie revealed a radiant smile that blinded him more than the night lamp he had switched on.

His brain was foggy from leaving her side to doze off for a while due to her concerns about his health.

The woman had lectured him that it was the haphazardness of his sleep schedule that would be the death of him. Not to mention the lack of actually getting some shuteye.

According to her, this was the first thing they needed to fix in order to have him be in his top form. A good night's sleep for someone like him not only meant improved health but also more flowing ideas as a writer. His brain would become more motivated and energized. It had him awed that she'd even considered that aspect of things, and not just his inclination to become faint and lightheaded after touching her.

"I won the competition!" She squealed, cutting through his thoughts.

His eyes widened as she threw herself at him, causing him to groan.

Her words didn't reach him until he looked down onto his chest to see her disbelieving yet amazed face.

She'd won the competition...what a relief.

Christopher knew she was capable of outdoing everyone there. He knew her abilities well; practically could outline them descriptively on a piece of paper if he was asked to. But this wasn't a college thesis and he didn't need to. He just needed her to trust herself to know she was skilled enough to do this and more.

"I can't believe I won."

"Why can't you believe it? You're good."

He slowly reciprocated her lopsided hug. It wasn't enough though so Leslie pulled back and landed one on him.

Unexpectedly, he reacted in a less dramatic way than he'd done before.

She only felt his hand tightened around her waist.

Her eyes caught the other free one gripping the bedsheets and she couldn't help but smile.

Ehhh, it's progress nevertheless, she thought, glancing up at him coyly. "I'm only good? No other words can be used?"

"Not only good but...exceptional, proficient, apt, hardworking, articulate, impassioned—"

"Okay, okay! I get it! I'm sorry! I will never doubt your power again, Mr. Thesaurus."

"I'm a writer. You should've known better than to challenge me in the first place."

Leslie rolled her eyes at his arrogance.

She couldn't help but like the fact that he'd complimented her in abundance though. Regardless of the prompt, that was more of the highlight of her night than hearing from James over the phone that she'd won the writer's convention competition.

Exhilaration buzzed through her bones and she was so happy that as her head fell against Christopher's chest, she couldn't help but sigh in content.

It took a second of listening to his surprisingly erratic heartbeat for her to break the silence.

Her high had come down and she was left in the empty space of her mind that slowly filled with a deep realization.

"I feel like I've been through hell and back then rewarded for only a short period of time."

His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. "Are you regretting it?"

"Winning? Heck no."

"No, I meant the manner in which you had to win. The hours of isolation and emotional distress that you had to endure in order to write something deemed worthy by outsiders who have no idea of your sacrifices."

She blinked. "I—"

Her eyes burned with tears as her lips folded, trying not to get emotional.

"I don't mean to be ungrateful but..."

"But you're tired," he finished for her, his hand reaching up to pat her head affectionately.

"That's okay." He reassured.

Leslie buried her face further into his shirt as her eyes gazed at the night sky beyond his half-drawn curtains. She took in his addictive yet calming scent.

"Do all writers feel like this despite getting a prize for their work? I am happy that I won a trip to the Bahamas, but it also feels like I sacrificed a lot in a short period of time for it."

"Don't worry, writing has always been a game of giving and getting nothing in return. Prizes and awards are only bandaids for the things that we've had to endure such as solitude and mental constraints."

Her brows scrunched together painfully at that.

"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

He simply hummed.

She felt a pang to her chest.

Poor Christopher...

"Some writers actually enjoy solitude though."

"Do you?"

"I do."

There was no hesitation in his voice.

"I could never get used to that," she sighed, and the sympathy for him was heard but also the reluctance of practicing that lifestyle.

"It's only because you haven't experienced it in the way that someone like me has. Spending a lot of my time writing, I don't know if I've experienced a sense of loneliness at times. I'm too preoccupied to think about that, but when you came into my life and pointed that out, I suddenly realized that it could be quite a frightening thing. Lonely but scary nonetheless. In the context of things, like what happened when I got sick with the flu and there was nobody to help. Except for you. Sometimes...I couldn't help but to think something was wrong with me. That I should get out more. I should spend more time with my friends. However, I grew to realize being alone and feeling lonely are two different things."

"How are they different?"

"It's not being alone that is the problem. It's whether you feel lonely or isolated and suffer while being alone. When I'm alone, I feel fine because I enjoy it, and that has shaped me into the creative person that I am today."

His hand started to play with the brown strands of her hair, "However, some people can't stand the idea of them having given up so much to a fictional world while sacrificing things of their real one such as their time. After all, that's the only thing we can't get back once having lost it."

"The more I think about it, the more I feel like I should give you credit for what you're doing. The fact that you've made this into a career as well? You're honestly incredible, Christopher."

His hand paused its movements in her hair but he didn't say anything.

She didn't need him to.

Turning onto her side to take a look at his face, it told her everything his mouth didn't say. His gratitude and diffidence for her praises were clear.

She opted to change the subject because the mood had gotten too heavy.

"I was thinking we could go to the Bahamas after the publication of your book. Treat it as a commemoration for our first time working together on a project."

He blushed. "You want to take me along with you?"

"Who else if not you?" She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't know. I just...didn't expect you to."

"Well, I have. So, will you come with me?"

He looked at her with an extremely transparent expression.

"I guess that's a yes then..." she slowly remarked and his lips drew into a smile, but he rolled his eyes.

"How do you know that's a yes? I'll have to see after I get my final sources tied up. I've been looking for some references for a while now that I can't seem to find anywhere."

"What are they from?"

"Romance books from the 1950's."

Her lips parted in surprise.

"You told me to get some references so I did. Don't look at me like that after taking your advice."

She slapped him on the shoulders. "Good job!"

He huffed.

She put a finger beneath her chin in thought. "I think I know the perfect place where you can get the best quality editions."