Who You Share it With (Willy Wonka x reader)

16. A Day in the Life

"Hmm," you hummed. You'd just awoken from a pleasant dream. The details were already a bit blurry, but you distinctly remembered strolling through a fanciful library with Willy and Noodle.

You weren't annoyed by your slow ease out of sleep. Rather than feeling restless, you were welcomed by a warm hold that made you feel oddly relaxed. You felt safe; comforted. You bathed in the soft sunlight that radiated from the window, leaning into the presence beside you.

Well, you did... until you opened your eyes. The content smile on your face quickly turned into a flustered expression. A chocolate-haired man's face was just inches away from your own. The muscles around his eyes were soft and relaxed, his mouth turned a gentle pink smile. A quiet gasp fell from your lips at the extremely close proximity. His arms—which looked incredibly fragile—had a firm grip around your waist. His long legs were tangled with your own, leaving your warm s/t skin even redder.

Your first instinct was a bit selfish; to just lay there in his arms and let him deal with it when he woke up. You smiled at the thought of being able to admire his soft features and peaceful demeanor for a bit longer. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his disheveled hair and rosy cheeks as well.

Then, you decided that would be too mean for the poor chocolatier and attempted to squirm out of his hold. The valiant effort did not bode well as a moment of rustling caused his eyes to open. Well, so much for that.

"Y/-ow!" he yelped, releasing you from his hold and somehow throwing himself off the bed.

"Willy?" you called, peering over the edge of the bed on your knees.

He shakily shuffled off the floor. Willy's movements were sporadic; shifting and adjusting his footing every handful of seconds. He didn't even stand upright, choosing instead to just stare at you on his knees. "Y-Y/n... I'm so, so, so, so sorry. I-I don't... I didn't think... I—"

"Willy!" You took a hold of his shoulders, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about it!" The poor man's face was flaming crimson. "Besides, we aren't strangers. Friends get into... strange situations all the time!"

Your comforting words seemed to ease him a bit. "You're right," he replied hesitantly.

He sat up next to you, a bit further than usual. Eager to change the topic, you asked the first question to come to your mind, "How did you travel the world?"

He seemed a bit taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. Eventually, he thought up an answer, "By boat mostly. Sometimes by foot, by train, by cable car, by horse, by camel, anything I came across." You pondered on his life. You knew that he'd been places, but never fully understood the sheer scope of his travels. How many more places had he been? How many more people had he met? How many more languages did he know? How many plants had he picked, animals he'd encountered, experiences he'd gone through? You hadn't even seen a camel in your life outside of the picture books you'd read years ago!

Honestly, you felt as if the two of you were opposites. He'd done so many things on his travels while you'd only known one house in your entire life—save for the one you didn't even remember. He'd never even had the need to pick up a book, while the library was your only escape from being held captive. He—

"Y/n?" You blinked, snapping back to reality. Something warm ran down your right cheek. The drop was replaced with his finger wiping it away.

"I-I'm sorry... ha, huh, you must think I'm insane—crying for no reason," you chuckled, voice breaking.

"No, you were thinking," he took a hold of your chin, turning your head to his. "I do that too, quite often," he admitted.

His words made you laugh, "Do you now?" He nodded. "So, how did you manage to afford a trip around the world?"