#musing: henry

💆‍♂️ - brushes hair from my muse’s face

Pandora can feel something broad against her back. She can’t tell where she is or if this is some nightmare that she’ll have to wake herself from. There’s a pain in her chest but doesn’t have any time to think about it because she can feel something dragging her. Whatever type of dream this is had to be brought on by something drank - this is why she doesn’t drink. It only causes more issues than it solves. But, that’s something for tomorrow Pandora to remember and now she just wants to sleep. 

“Hey, listen to me.” A voice drags her back to the present and a groan escapes her lips. They’re too loud. Why can’t they let her sleep? “Pandora, stay with me.”

Finally, she opens her eyes and Henry’s face is the first thing she sees. His brows are knitted together with something that looks similar to concern written on his face. She can feel his hands pressing against her, hard and steady on her ribcage. 

That’s odd.

She notices his hair out of place and reaches up, fingers sticky with blood and sweat, to push it back into its correct spot. A trail of red stains his forehead and she frowns. She goes to wipe it away but one of his hands stops her, making her frown even more. “Henry, there’s something-”