fix me, so lost for so long @mechwalker-blog1 - Tumblr Blog

food for thought.

"I... I would never ask much of you," Innocently, his voice remained steady. "I won't lock you away. I won't stop you from doing whatever it is you want to do..." Firmly, he remained in his same spot. Breath-taking image of her before him inspired more words than the man had ever thought he could conjure. "I am not asking you to just settle into things with me, trust me... I have just as many issues as you do when it comes to the past, but I... I just want the chance." The existing world around them went mute and still as he gazed into her eyes. There was a bit of anger he could allow through, to seep into his words and saturate the entire ambience... at her husband. Shaking his head, Christopher finally broke the stare and simply closed his eyes. Everything about his body suddenly grew exhausted and his breaths deepened; he needed to slow down for a moment. This was the first time in such a while that he had experienced any sort of stress, not particularly negative. Another moment passed and he rested his hand on his chest, reminding himself he was alright.

"I don't want to be robbed of this chance-" Eyes cracked open and flashed up to the stars as he regained control of himself. "-because some ill-excuse for a man tried to ruin you for me."

food for the soul

He listened, allowing the words to linger in his ears and mind as he blankly looked across the natural scenery before him. He understood, how she was trapped and mistreated; how she was drowned and caged... but he knew, so fiercely, that he could be the one to free her. He knew that he would never hold her hostage, that he would never ask things of her other than love. Christopher was confident that he could be the best thing for her. It was easy to tell, how his muscles and heart relaxed in her presence, how his body felt at ease and normal, if normal was something that was easily definable. There had been a special place in his heart for her, which had been dug and settled when they were younger. So gently and beautifully, she had nestled her way into him, rooting her soft smile and caring nature with in his own foundation of bone and tissue.

It was entirely too difficult for him to put a halt on the urge to bring such a subject into the air. "I..." He sighed heavily, holding back a couple of tears behind his eyes as hard as he could. "I just want love..." The words were half-way muttered, because he simply could not force himself to speak any louder. Emotions were wearing thin, as was the energy it took him to hold up the steel and barbed-wire around his mind and heart. The man knew he had love in his heart for her, he knew it so confidently. Love at first-sight was something he believed in firmly, only for her; Christopher knew that she was his one, his person, his truth, and his life. "I know I can love you, I know I can be the man you deserve..." He pivoted around slowly, to look at her with near saddened eyes. "I'm sorry. Truthfully, I am..." The rest of his words escaped, fleeting into the night suddenly.

Food for the soul

"I just..." A heavy sigh interrupted his speech. His thoughts had dispersed, turning each down their own twisted road and he suddenly felt as if he was beginning to suffocate. Running his slightly unsteady hand through his hair, he inhaled slowly. "I just... want to know what we are, what we are doing here..." Leaning back in his hair to rest his back, he closed his eyes with his face tilted toward the dark veiled sky. Circling the drain of anxiety and paranoia, happier thoughts pulled further from him now, nowhere near his tongue. "I... Is this some kind of game?" His voice remained calm and the pace of his words were slow. He could never be left as the last women had left him, torn down, broken, and almost dead. He could never suffer a pain like that, he would never want to. Christopher knew he never wanted to feel as empty as he had before, left in the purgatory between life and death. Too often did he find himself much too near the End. "I just... I..." He stammered, feeling the pace of his heart quicken suddenly. He rose to his feet, as if some anomaly pushed him toward oxygen. He walked away, toward the wooden railing of the deck. Eyes pierced the scenery of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake- a smooth, still body of water. Thoughts needed to be wrangled and sorted, organized and hushed so his tongue and vocals could relax. Christopher had never been one to lash out, never been the man who spilled out everything, especially to someone who had been nothing but kind to him. And yet, here he was- fighting the urge. Resting his palms on the railing, propping himself, his head hung down. " I just... can't be invested in something, in someone who... will leave me empty."

#Pippa

food for the soul

A smile was all he could muster, gentle and plenty of an answer to her slight stutter. Her sudden nervousness was sign enough to him of a glimmer of hope that she might reciprocate interest. A light chuckle preceded the words next spoke as the mechanic held up his hands to reveal remnants of grime and dirt, "I, uh... I'm going to clean up. Can't wait to eat." It had come out as a bit shorter than he had hoped but he was sure she would make nothing of it. He was ready to wash the day away, slip into clean clothes, and sit down to dinner with such a beautiful woman. It was a moment they could enjoy, almost as if they were a couple, in seclusion from judgement or bothersome folk. It was the silver lining to his irritating day. Though eager, he knew his body would require more than a five minute shower to feel cleansed. She would be there, he was sure of it. Being an excellent cook was more than a turn on he had to admit to himself, it was a comfort for his soul. The marks of the perfect woman included such things but conveyed much more than her ability to satisfy his hunger; it was proof she could try new things, that she was persistent. A headstrong girl beneath a veil of self-consciousness backed by a poor excuse of a man for years. She was a bird who needed to be free, to have clear air to breathe and spread her wings full span constantly. These were the thoughts winding their way through his head as he swigged a bit of his whiskey to wash down yet another bite of her cooking. Settling back into his chair, he could feel himself growing a bit more confident. Unknown was the cause, but he was sure it was not due to the alcohol this time. Perhaps it had blossomed from their budding relationship, whether it was to be friendly or romantic in spirit. Christopher knew just moments before the words entered the air in his voice that he could no longer stand such a suspense, such an in between of not knowing just what they were as far as Pippa was concerned. "So," The question ran so smoothly from his lips. "What are we?"

food for the soul

Work had been irritating him since the day's beginning. A heavy sigh of relief echoed through the vacant shop as he finally began switching all of the lights off, signaling a well-earned end of his stress. Tearing off his greasy, sweaty dark blue button-up, he could hear the reassuring sign of the back door closing, immediately locking behind him. Though still warm out, Christopher could feel a cooling sensation skipping over the exposed skin of arms and face. His bones ached, his muscles were still tense, but his breathing slowed to a normal pace as he hopped into his truck to begin the short journey home. A quick call to his mother to assure her he was fine and he would be seeing her over the weekend, a reply to his sister's text from hours ago, and then he began the trek toward what he knew to be his little piece of serenity. A home on the lake, a beautiful woman in which he found some sort of comfort... A small grin finally found its way through the grump and irritation as he thought of her. Though he still was not sure what was between the two. An unsettling feeling she would become over ridden with stress and consumed by pressure he would accidentally put on her continuously stopped him. Continuously he reminded himself that he did not want to push something on her, something for which she might not even truly pine. It was a controlling emotion, though; the amount of pressure with in his soul pushing its way from his heart was so great. The feelings growing for the porcelain girl were battling with his mind constantly. She was just as fragile as she looked, thanks to her husband, and Christopher could not allow himself to break the cracked light skin and force tears from her gorgeous, captivating eyes. The stream of thoughts, rambles of conflict, immediately ceased as he put the truck in park. Essence of calm seeped through the earth behind his land, encasing his house, crawling up his own legs as he stepped out of the vehicle, and nestled into his hair as he began up the side steps as he usually did after work. Suddenly no irritation resided in even the echoes of his heartbeats. The assuring fact that an angel temporarily resided with in his home was enough to erase any trace of negativity. The scent of cooking food tickled at his nose as he twisted the door knob and pushed the door open to step inside. "Smells nice in here," he commented with a grin playing on his face. Christopher gazed at her for a moment, taking in every inch of her beauty. His blood ran warm, his fingers ached to touch her skin, and his arms wished to wrap around her small body. Still, Christopher remained by the door, removing his dirty boots to toss into the laundry room. "You know the way to my heart," he stepped toward the food and got a nice smell of the spices. "Mmmm..." His eyes came to meet hers once more and he felt the need, once more, to embrace her. Stuck in a personal purgatory of emotions, the young man felt the world stop. He anticipated her next move, next words, even her next breath... Today he felt much different, as if Christopher was losing grip on his self control as he watched her slightly grooving to the music she had playing.

#fitzley love everyuniverse always pippaandchris

my head's under water..

In the quickest of attacks, he was sure some thought of the mess with her soon-to-be ex-husband brought her to a ball. His heart had been rising as he watched her, but fell deep as she collapsed. His stomach sank and his entire body became covered by invisible worry. Approaching her steadily and carefully, he lightly places his hand on her shoulder. A deep breath stopped him from speaking right off; she was already burdened enough, she did not need a barrage of words or encouragement. His muscles were itching to simply move the body of the man more toward her but he resisted. There were boundaries all women had and the last thing he needed was to cross one, especially since she was in such a state of anxiety. "Pippa," A whisper parted his lips. "What's wrong?"

My head's under water...

There had been at least one moment every night where he briefly worried about the storm to come. Their days spent in each other's company were blanketed with calm, serene air. It was simple, her being around the house... He went off to work as usual, conducted any business as he would if he lived alone, but then came home to her. There had been no talks of a relationship, mostly because he was oddly content in their unspoken understanding of living together for the time being. The heartache he had endured years ago continued to restrain him from diving in head first to anything, no matter how much he pined for her in silence. Today had been an early day, as Fridays were usually. He had been cleaning and organizing the shop all day, but still did not feel as though he had even worked. There were a few things from the grocery store he had to get, which he easily did on the way home, as well as stop by a few places and pay some bills before parking the truck in his driveway. An arm full of paper bags he juggled easily soon found their way through the door and rested atop the counter. It was there where he could see her, twirling and moving to the beat of her own heartbeat. He could not help but feel his heart jump into his throat, inspiring a bright grin. He stood there in silence, gazing at her move fluidly. There was nothing that could distract him from her.

when i wake

A nervous chuckle escaped him as he began to walk up the wood steps with his soaked, soggy pants. A true yet nonchalant smile erased his previous lingering anxiety and sadness as his eyes glanced into hers. Each step he took he felt himself moving closer to some little piece of simplicity, of Heaven on Earth. By the second, Christopher grew more and more assured this was not a mistake. As he rise to the step just below her, he stopped and took in the moment. His eyes wandered down at her body then to her bare feet. "You're gonna have dirty feet," He laughed. Swiftly and carefully, he picked her up and cradled her body in his arms to then walk into the house with her. "It's sort of counterintuitive to take a shower then walk outside with bare feet." Walking through the kitchen and living room, to his bedroom, he lightly and delicately sat her on the bed. The puddles of water from his wet jeans did not bother him in that second, for a stronger emotion pulled his mind from the obsessive compulsive behavior to clean them up immediately. Turning toward the dresser, he opened the too drawer up and pulled out a black t-shirt, then moved to the third drawer down and found a pair of red basketball shorts he regularly wore. Another glance from his peripherals before he turned caused his confidence to grow. "This is the best I can do." After sitting the folded clothes on the bed, he gathered a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt for himself along with boxers and stepped toward the door. "Meet you on the couch?"

when i wake

As he scrubbed lightly across his skin with his bare, rough hands, he slowed the feel as he came to the skin at his sternum. The world around him, the quiet nature and all of the energy of the universe came to a halt. A scar from the incisions made remained a constant reminder of how precious life was, how he was even lucky to be granted that moment to dwell and breathe. Kinking the water hose for a moment, with a hand resting over the middle of his chest, he slowly started back to return and turn off the water. This was a daily occurrence; despite being eight years with out any further heart problems, a constant worry came as the burden of receiving another's heart to replace the one he was gifted at the time of birth. His had never quite ticked correctly, but his had never been whole either. Something had gone wrong, somewhere, or it had simply been apart of the plan of Christopher Walker. From even pre-conception on, a hole had uniquely and drastically alter his design. Its lack of correct functioning for the first twenty-two years of existence eventually lead to a near end for the young man, and much more heartache for his loved ones. There had been nearly an entire day of tears, depression, longing for his survival, and hopes nearly lost. He could remember the bland tiled ceiling and the irritating beeping from more than one machine. His sister and mother would exchange places by his bedside but he had never been alone; he had never even felt it. It seemed like more than twenty-four hours, but a sense of relief warmed the cold ICU as he watched his mother burst into tears, thanking the doctor repetitively and then rushing over to hug him and assure him he was going to be alright. Although someone else had lost their own life, they had saved his. Being pulled from his family and prepped for the emergency heart transplant, Christopher could only remember seeing an angel smiling down on him before he closed his eyes. As he opened them now, he saw an angel once more. Her hair was wet, face had no make up, and she was calling to him. His hand slowly fell back down to his side near his soaked jeans and he began to speak slowly. "Well..." As if the words were stuck in the middle of his throat, Christopher coughed to continue. A nervousness resided with in his chest as he stepped to ascend the wooden stairs. "I have basketball shorts and a t-shirt. That's about it..." Laughing airily, Christopher could feel himself growing more unsteady in breaths as his veins pumped more blood into his heart; he could not understand just how someone so beautiful and nice had fallen into such a depressing, repressing, ugly relationship. Perhaps it was how he was a hopeless romantic. Perhaps it was because he could never bring himself to harm anyone emotionally much less physically.

when i wake

Of course he was attracted to her; how could a man not? There was something with in him that kept him grounded though. There was an inner need to do everything the "right" way. Not that there was a wrong way of doing much of anything in today's society, but it was how he was raised. His mother had been wooed and dated before she was asked to marry his father for three years. They had only ever been with each other intimately and that was how it should be; though, Christopher did not care if Pippa and her husband had been romantic with each other. It happens. Her husband did not treat her right and Christopher would not stand for such a thing, even if their little story ended with her moving on and being happy with someone else. He simply nodded to her every time she said something. Though his heart be only his in possession, it still worked the same as his original one had; it dropped as he watched her walk into the bathroom. He shook his head and turned to walk out to the back porch where the fire had slowly started last night, under the moonlight. She would shower and slip into whatever he could find small enough to fit her... More than likely a t-shirt and a pair of either cozy pajama pants or sweatpants. His socks would stay on her feet but their cuffs would slip down her lowers and bunch at her ankles. If anything, his attire would swallow her whole. If anything, that was how he might prefer her- undone and relaxed. But maybe she could, indeed, relax those tiny feet clothed in larger socks on his lap while they engage in a lazy day. Enjoying each others company, they could simply rest. The smile on his face remained as he imagined it, as if he was a young boy unaware of non-existent fairytales. Jogging down the outdoor steps, he went beneath the deck where a concrete slap played floor for a rainy day and to the grill, which could easily be moved up the steps or more toward the water. The hose rested on the concrete in a coil just near the nozzle and spout. Turning it on, he grabbed the hose and stepped into the yard just out of the shade. He held up the end and allowed the cool water to soak into his hair and trickle down his face, neck, chest, and consequently his jeans. He would take a proper shower when the little miss was done, but it felt nice to get the majority of the oil off of him while cooling down, almost like the "cold shower" he knew men spoke of after a veiled public arousal by whatever female.

when i wake

A full laugh finally escaped him and he covered his face in his hands for a brief second. "The shower is yours first," Christopher slipped past her slowly, but stopped just inside of the bedroom door to think. What would his sister have to say? Not that Alina was any sort of hypocritical, non-sinning, judgmental person by any means, but she would certainly voice her opinion eventually. At least to him she would. He shrugged mentally, the thought fluttering off into the air. "Your phone is on the window sill... It fell onto the floor when I carried you in and I didn't want it to wake you." And he had not; not that she needed any beauty sleep but angels must have their rest too. "I'm sure Alina will show up here whether you contact her or not. Funny little fairy... She always seems to know..."

when i wake

His body temperature rose slightly, catching a shadow of another unfamiliar feeling caused directly by an undertone in her voice. Sure, he had tasted a woman's lips and felt a woman's skin but not in the most intimate of ways in the eyes of the Universe. It was something he had maintained in the old fashioned sense- waiting for the one. Miranda had tried, like a succubus of sorts, to pull him from his morals, but he had put his foot down too many times; she finally stopped. As he fought another grin, Christopher nodded to her as he sighed. "You could always lounge around in whatever I have..." There were no real innuendos or doses of perversion in the statement. It was simple: he did not want to leave this dream. "But I will gladly take you wherever you need to go."

when i wake

"Stay." A word had never formed more clearly from anyone's mouth. It was not rushed, it did not seem desperate. It was kind, generous, happy even. No matter what it had sounded like, it was a simple invitation. He took a small step toward her and hesitated to speak further. "I mean," his eyes jumped to any and everything he could see but ended up back to her, softer than before. "I'd certainly welcome you back if that was what you decided to do. You're welcome here any time." He wanted her to come back; there were no doubts about such a thing. Wanting had not been something he had been familiar with in such a long while, but it felt comforting. "I'll be more presentable when you get back." Christopher could not help but chuckle.

when i wake

His pearly white teeth were the only thing clean about him. They prevail through the grim and grease as his eyes maintained their stare. Straight out of bed, she was just as beautiful as she was the night before. It took quite a few long moments before his gaze finally broke due to his innate need to blink. Hands settled on his hips as he cleared his throat to speak. "Yeah," Nodding along with the word, Christopher tried his very best to calm his nerves. Truthfully he had never seen such a pretty little thing, much less expected to ever have one in his home. "I had a couple of things to finish before I... uh, relax for the day." As far as a shower and her proposal of going home, his heart sank. If she wanted to leave, she was free to do so; he wanted her company. Loneliness was a friend of his, but he was not fond of its company. He liked Pippa. The smiles she brought to his generally blank face were things to which he could become accustomed. "Unless you want to, you can stay here. Shower here... Wh-whatever you would like..."

when i wake

Perhaps it was more the dream than the sofa and blankets providing him a short night of decent rest. The alarm on his cell phone called to him at its routine 6:00AM, pulling him away from thoughts he more than likely should not have but could no more prevent them than an accident fatefully happening. In such a world as dreamland, he had never experienced the heart break of Miranda. In that world, he found himself submersed in nothing but comfort and care- something he had never been able to experience further than the arms of his family members. The dreamscape revealed a deep want for such a thing, the soft, calming heart of a woman to drive him to be strong. Family was enough to keep a man going, but there comes a point in life, when one is left alone to only his trinkets, tools, and automobiles, when it might not be enough. As he slipped into his bedroom where the angel rested, Christopher could feel himself moving by the strings of his heart. Whoever the dreamweaver, they did not particularly wish for him to forget the life they had pieced together in the separate realm of reality. Grabbing a pair of rather worn blue jeans and his boots, the man took another look at Pippa's serene body beneath the covers and smiled softly before quietly exiting the room and house all together. There had been a few things lined up at the shop he had not finished before he had closed up the night before, like changing out the timing belt of for Mrs. Ansley and changing oil for the Garners. Rationally he assumed he could finish it easily before his guest awoke to the empty home of a semi-stranger. He had never quite imagined he would have accidentally cracked the oil pan. It had not been an intention to take a bath in said oil of the broken oil pan. It brought a halt to the progress he was making, for he had to alert Mr. Garner he had to order a new pan on his own dime and his car would no longer be ready until Wednesday, when the part was to arrive. The timing belt had taken no time and caused no trouble. At least he was able to finish something, he reckoned as he attempted to wipe some oil from his hands and face while locking up and heaving a sigh of relief. Looking down at himself, Christopher could not help but chuckle and shake his head. "Well, she'll either still be asleep and I can sneak into the shower or she'll laugh at me covered in gunk." Shoulders rose and fell in a moment, noting his nonchalance on the matter. The itch to return home, into uncertainty, nipped at his heels. He was unbelievingly alive after being up since early with such little sleep, but being tired never crossed his mind. Still, he had no idea what to expect. She could have run off, run home... Stepping onto the porch, he removed his heavy boots with a loud THUD THUD to announce his feet's freedom. Removing his now partially black shirt as he unlocked the door, he stepped inside to toss it in the washroom. His heart beat uncontrollably wild, unsure and excited all in the same as he stepped into the living room area to set his eyes on her. "... Morning."

take me away

The alcohol had long worn off, but conversations had continued long into the night. Somewhere, lost in translation from the bar to her confession to her eyes growing heavy in front of him, Christopher's soul cooled and calmed. Fiery anger which had been so prevalent when Pippa had released the information on her less than pleasing husband had died to barely a smolder as her worries and sadness seemed to have left her. Finally his own eyes and body grew tired; he carefully cradled her small body in his arms and slowly worked his way to his bedroom, where he had removed her shoes and tucked her into his warm blankets. A smiled crept onto his face as he had turned before closing the door; she looked at peace. If it was the least he could have done for her- offering her a place to stay- he was content. Climbing onto the couch after changing into a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, Christopher found himself slipping into a dreamworld from which he would barely pull himself in the morning.

take me away

"Look," An overwhelming feeling of misinterpretation crept across the floorboards and climbed up his legs. "I promise you I am not some asshole... I'm not a creep... I'm just..." Frustration clouded his mouth and mind as he attempted to remain calm. It was not that he inferred her personal thoughts but he felt the need to explain in order to comfort her more if possible. "Honestly?" His eyes conveyed slight sadness; too many men just like her husband had more than ruined everything real, honest people. "I just want to help. There is too much going on for you and the last thing you need is to go home, to an empty house, after a bit of alcohol and talking about how unrealistically terrible your husband treats you."

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fix me, so lost for so long