Pedro Pascal/Character

Pedro Pascal 4

I am (mostly) back now.

:D

~~~

Pedro Pascal. 

You'd heard of him of course. Everyone knew the famed 'Internet daddy' who, instead of recoiling at the prospect, stepped into the role and embraced the influx of fans thirsting over his 'slutty knee', and treated them with the utmost respect and took the time to talk to each and every fan that he could, despite their being millions flocking to him. 

You could never hope to be just another face in the crowd. 

Instead, you consoled yourself with watching all of his shows, twice, and scouring the internet for fan-fiction to delude yourself that, just for a moment, you were more.
It was almost creepy, how much you thought about him. Quoting things he's said around friends and unconsciously mimicking actions that you'd seen him do on TV. Placing your hand over your chest in photos was an easy one to point out. Your anxiety had shifted from being a small voice in your head to being a crushing feeling in your chest just so you could feel closer to him.
This went way past a simple celebrity crush. You were in love. And there was no way he even knew you existed, let alone loved you back.
Sure, he was older, but that barely stopped anyone before. Loads of celebrities had much younger partners. It was 'the biz' as they would say in Hollywood.

You were certain if you could just talk to him, the feelings would subside, or at least be more manageable. So, swallowing your nerves, you opened Instagram to send him a DM. The hopes of receiving a reply that wasn't an automated "Thanks for being a fan" were low, but maybe it would tell your heart that it had to move on.

Hi, you don't know me, but I'm a huge fan and would love to be able to talk to you, to know you as a person not just the characters you play. If you're ever in __________ let me know. x

You stared at the message, editing small bits, trying to sound professional instead of desperate. God, you were pathetic. You went to click backspace, but clearly the odds were not in your favour. You hit send instead. You stared in horror. Now panicking and trying to delete the message, your phone decided to glitch, and then the screen went blank. You could have screamed. Actually, you did scream, but silently, frantically searching for your charger and plugging it in.

You could have sobbed. Your hands were shaking as you forced yourself to go downstairs, leaving your phone to charge. Great, now he was going to think you were a drivelling idiot, and probably not even bother responding. He wouldn't respond anyway. It'd be some stupid automated message, and your heart would be crushed. You were being stupid, he never even knew you, you shouldn't feel this way. You hated how stupid you were being, but that did nothing to dampen the panic. 

You distracted yourself with ice-cream, and burying your face into a pillow of your armchair, hugging it to your chest and trying to calm down. 

~

You had all but forgotten about your phone when you went up to bed that evening. You'd eaten almost the hole freezers worth of ice cream, and cleared out your snack-cupboard with your stress-eating. Your hands shook as you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram. 

Hey! It's late where I am, but I'm coming to your area in about two weeks. I'd love to meet you, you sound like a lovely person, and I am not ashamed to admit I looked through your profile a little. Would 10:00am on the eleventh work? You can choose the place. :) x

You were stunned. Little did you know how he had been on Instagram when your message came through, and just for fun decided to do a little internet stalking and arrange a meeting. What? You seemed nice, and your Instagram was a lot of posts about animals and days out with friends.