INVISIBLE STRING ― pedro pascal

-REAL LIFE & MESSAGES

TW! Same as last chapter, but more mentioned then detailed. <3

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Willow turned over to the side, eyes startling open, blinking slowly as she recalled the previous night's events.

"Good morning."

Willow turned back around, eyes falling over Pedro, who looked as though he'd just woken up as well.

She ignored how seductive his voice sounded without trying, at least an octave lower, filled with sleep.

"Morning," she replied quietly.

He watched her a long while, neither of them saying anything. She wanted to feel embarrassed about the night before, feel anxious that he'd seen it.

But his hand reached up slowly, resting on her cheek, running his fingers along it gently. And the anxiety dissipated; she couldn't find a reason to be embarrassed. Not when he gazed at her so adoringly.

Shivers tickled her spine, and relief overwhelmed her. She hadn't been alone last night.

Usually, it was Frankie to be the one there, but he'd normally brew up tea and give her a hug. This felt so different from that. So tender and, dare she say, loving.

Pedro made her feel warm inside, as though he'd grappled the sun and pulled it down, tying it up inside of her. She felt safe with him, his soft hands, his considerate words and calm demeanor.

"How do you feel?" He asked quietly.

She didn't respond, only watched him in utter fascination. He'd chosen to bring her to his trailer after she blacked out, to hold her all night, to be there when she awoke.

She didn't have a way in which to put her gratitude into words.

"You hungry?" He asked, his voice still soft, but he was more alert now.

She wanted to cry at the look in his eyes. They watched her affectionately, not a lick of judgement or pity to be seen.

She'd never had anyone look at her like that before. Willow had been judged her entire life for things she had and hadn't done, no matter her age, and after the accident everyone she knew looked at her in an odd sort of sad pity.

But not Pedro.

He watched her carefully, but not as though she'd break, or was delicate enough to fall apart — he looked at her as though she'd dart off any minute. And he wanted to keep her here, grounded, all for himself.

She found no part of her wanted to run from him, then. All of their reasonings seemed silly. Looking into his chocolate brown eyes, she couldn't come up with a single reason not to stay in his arms forever.

"I could eat," she said finally. He removed his hand, but she shook her head, reaching over and placing it back on her face, letting out a small whimper.

"Okay, Princesa," he chuckled lowly. "Whatever you need."

She nodded minutely, burying her face closer into the pillow and letting out a slow, content sigh. His hands traced along her sin, grounding her, keeping her from her thoughts.