No Choice | Peter Ballard x Reader

Dozing Off

Peter wakes up in a cold sweat. 

Pain.

His body is searing. Everything aches.

He swiftly sits up, winces, and tries to figure out his surroundings. Peter's dazed—confused on where he is. He doesn't remember much after he was shocked to an almost unconscious state. He's sure that the memories will stir up later.

He tries to move when he feels the sudden weight on his legs. Peter looks down to find you, sleeping and resting your head on his lap. He then notices the cardiac monitor and realizes he's in the infirmary.

Wondering the time, he looks at the clock that's conveniently across from his bed and squints. It was three in the morning.

Peter huffs and runs a hand through his hair. 

He's always had trouble sleeping. Some days, he would wake up at five in the morning and stay awake until his shift starts. His body just can't seem to fall back asleep. He's struggled with this ever since he was a child.

Peter's body still feels like it's on fire. His muscles are in incredible pain, and it aches to even move his arms. He hates this.

He's never felt this weak before—to be so helpless. This feeling forms an intense, deep hatred inside his heart. Peter welcomes the familiar feeling. He remembers it all too well. It's a complete carbon-copy of the emotion he used to end his mother and sister.

Naturally, Peter starts digging his fingernails into his own palms.

Oh, how easily he could escape without this dumb Soteria planted into his neck.

He hates this. He hates this. He hates this.

He just wants to be free, to be the one in control of his own life again.

Peter is completely immersed in his thoughts when all of a sudden he hears you stir.

"Peter?" you mumble. Your voice is silvery. He can tell you're tired. He wonders how long you've been here and what time your body finally decided to succumb to its much needed sleep.

He sees your head rise, but you're still staring at his lap.

He unclasps his fists, noticing the mark his fingernails left. He doesn't dwell too much on them though as he uses one finger to lift your head towards him.

"Hi."

His voice is hoarse and guttural, countering his charming eyes. They're squinted slightly, probably because of the brightness of the room. You can stare into his eyes forever.

They say eyes are like the windows to a person's soul, and you wholeheartedly agree.

Peter's eyes remind you of the moon, alluring you to no end. Every time you went star-gazing and discovered the moon, you felt a connection—a spark, and you could never look away. It brought you in a complete trance. 

The moon would always meet you at sundown when everyone has gone to their separate rooms. It was always just you and the starry night at the end of the day.  You never felt lonely because the moon was your forever, nocturnal accompaniment. You feel that same comfort and acceptance from the moon as you do when looking into Peter's eyes.

However, as the moon knew you completely, you only saw him in parts. It was rare to see him in all his glory. The moon would mostly show up in crescents, only revealing a part of his feelings to you. Some days would show more than the previous times, but then there's days in which it's only a sliver of what you're used to. In spite of that, there are rare days, moments where Peter's eyes are in a full moon. He's completely transparent, and you feel as though you can relate to him. 

But it's extremely recherché. Uncommon. 

Like how the full moon occurs roughly once a month.

"Hi, Peter."

He smiles, and it's as cold and delightful as frost on a window pane.

"Everything still hurts?" you mutter to which he nods.

Never in your life would you have thought that Peter Ballard would be your foundation in this Hawkins Laboratory. When you first met him, you didn't think that you two could be as close as you are now. You wouldn't have thought you would be here, in front of him as he's shirtless with electrodes strapped to his chest. 

"Can't fall asleep?" you whisper.

Peter hesitates for a while before he nods his head again. You give him a sympathetic smile.

"I can help you go back to sleep again," you suggest, and Peter raises an eyebrow, doubting your words.

You playfully roll your eyes and cup his face with your hand. 

Peter's breath hitches, and his eyes widen. His face is warm, but you're unsure if you caused that or if he was warm in the first place. Nonetheless, you're surprised. This is the first time he's shown how affected he is by your actions. He's flustered. You can easily tell by the heart monitor.

"What? You doubt me, Ballard?" you gamesomely accuse.

He immediately closes the slight gap between his lips and shakes his head.

You like being in this position. This must be why he teases you so much. You tenderly rub your thumb on his cheek and then advise him to lie back down. He complies.

You scoot closer to where his head lies and start playing with his hair again. You run your fingers through his hair, causing it to become more disheveled. Peter audibly enjoys the sensation of your fingers in his hair. His visible pleasure makes you giggle.

"Close your eyes," you instruct, and Peter does exactly that. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you speak up.

"Cronus is a determined and rebellious keeper of time. He's a god that possessed superhuman strength. He also has really cool red eyes. Cronus is messed up though. Out of all the gods I've told you, I like him the least. It's mostly because he ate his children, but I'll go further into that later. He ruled the cosmos after separating Heaven from Earth. It's funny actually because he separated them by.."

Peter's doubts prove to be false as you eventually lull him to sleep while continuously playing with his hair.

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996 words.

hehe cronus castrated his father with a harpē

anywayy, uh next chapter will have some spice :)