Y/N is 100% not human part 2 (Patreon)

HELLO!! FIRSTABLE I would like to apologize that I was moreorless MIA, I'm sick, and school slammed me, so I lost track of days but I am back and with GOODIES! :D Here I have you some non-human antics, and soon you've got a sneak peek coming in hot! 

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ii.

The early bird catches the worm. 

It’s something that Harry thinks of when his eyes peeled open at six in the morning, when the sun has just barely peeked over the city line and the sky had just barely tinged a bluish haze. Not because he believes it any, no, but it was something that Niall used to say in that silvery Irish lilt when they would be dragged out of their hotel beds for an early morning shoot. The phrase was always tinged with sarcasm, and usually accompanied by him snatching the last buttered croissant or jelly tart before Harry could even think that he wanted it (but would eventually share if Harry pouted and whined enough). 

Harry had always thought that it was funny, that something could be repeated so many times the mind just begins to associate it with situations. Now, years after the band had begun their break, and each of them pursued solo endeavors, Harry thinks of it. Sometimes his thumbs itch to message Niall the words if he sees he’s up early in the time zone, but he refrains from it. He doesn’t know why he won’t, but he doesn’t. 

His neglect to reach out doesn’t stop the words from floating through his brain though. Not when Mitch his nudging at his foot to coax him awake if he’d fallen asleep in his and Sarah’s hotel room, or when his alarm blares in his ears telling him it's time to go for a run before the city had properly woken up, and it was merely him, other runners, the elderly, and dog walkers on the sidewalks. It doesn’t even leave his mind in a situation completely unfamiliar to him, like following closely behind the totally-not-so-human girl that he had been cohabitating with when she was unaware of it. 

Harry isn’t sure what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was just a shot of morning adrenalin -- the kind that make him boost up from bed after a good night’s rest, and get ready for a work out. That’s what he would have liked to believe, but he knows that his curiosity has just gotten the better of him. He is quite used to her leaving late at night, and at earliest mid-evening, but rarely does she leave in the mornings. When she does, he either wakes up just as she’s left, or just as she’s come home, and after these morning trips she is much more adherent to him than she usually is. She is reluctant to leave his side, he catches her gaze set into him like two lasers, and will even just stuff herself into his side as her silent demand for a cuddle, amongst blankets and pillows that smell of him.  In those moments he feels quite cherished by her, and he allows himself to revel within them until she’s over it in the next day or two. 

It couldn’t be that she had gone to fight like she does at night, because she comes back as put together as she had left. And normally, or as Harry finds it, after she returns from those she was something short of exhausted and claimed to be nothing short of starving. She only requested that he plays with her hair and in those moments he figure he owes it to her, considering she’s fighting at his expense.

No, these mornings he imagines are something much more innocent. Something clarifying in a way -- like when you see a commercial for starving animals, and treat every dog you come across as a beacon of hope and light for the world. Did she put herself amongst humans and decide that she was lucky to have come across Harry’s door? Was she doing vigilante work, and found it so pitiful the things humans would do to one another that she comes and cradles him to shield him from the world? 

He couldn’t really imagine either of those things though, so he had eventually just labeled those her “Nesting days” and as any sane person would do in the event that an in-human being wanted something, he gave it to her with no questions asked and no remarks made. 

However, this morning, he felt himself getting out of the bed before he could make sense of it. After he heard the hotel door click shut (because he scolded her from jumping out of the balconies in daylight), he rolled out of bed in a dream-like haze. He pulled a pair of nike exercise shorts over his boxers, and wiggled into a sweatshirt to combat the chilly morning air. Since he has little time to catch up before she could completely disappear, he plucks a beanie from where it lay crumpled on the TV stand and tucks it over the mess of post-sleep tangled hair he’d been working with. 

Harry makes it to the lobby of the hotel just as Y/N exits through the revolving doors, and he catches a glimpse of the jeans she so often protested wearing and one of his hoodies. He wonders if she’s actually taking into account that people will eyeball her if she were to be swimming around in silk robes with barely a bra over her breasts, and the optional choice lingerie-esque shorts. At first she had been very adamant that she cared little what humans thought, but when he informed her that it could let on that she wasn’t exactly like them, then she might be sought after, and it could put them both in a lot of trouble. Harry was never one to make a spectacle of himself and somehow, more often than not managed to be a spectacle anyway, so he figured they didn’t need anymore eyes. No rumors of mystery girls and having Y/N plastered all over the tabloids and internet articles. If she were to be hounded and crowded by people, he has no idea how she might react, and Harry has never really gotten through to her on how you can’t really kill all of your problems.

(Like when Harry was a little pissy one day with a friend and he had confided his thoughts to Y/N, who promptly -- without even a semblance of a breath -- offered to do away with them so that they would no longer, “Do his heart anymore pain” and he spent about an hour explaining to her that murder was not the answer, but she didn’t seem all too convinced.) 

He follows behind her with just enough distance to be safe, though he didn't have to worry about her looking back. Harry will often take a gander just to reassess his surroundings, but Y/N doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested. She moves with a certain manner of elegance that Harry could only dream of possessing, practically floating through the forming crowd of people. They were in Berlin and the city streets did tend to crowd fairly early, or so Harry thinks, but most cities begin to crowd early. An influx of workers and college students. 

At first Harry cannot make out where she’s going, because she’s heading down to the subway and Harry was fairly sure she had no idea how to work her way through one. He’s proven wrong, as she goes to the man behind the counter, and Harry stays hidden around the corner as she speaks, clearly entrancing him as he nods and steps outside of the glassed in booth. He takes out a card, slides it through the meter, and allows Y/N to walk through. Harry is only lucky that he had an old one from the last time he visited Berlin, just within the expiration date, so he slides it through the meter and follows suit. He’s strategic in how he follows her, keeping behind poles, eyeballing as she begins to step forward towards the opening doors and entering on a neighboring cart. 

(Harry thinks he ought to have made a good private investigator he had very well wanted to, but he’d always thought them to be glorified stalkers, so he isn’t particularly proud of how well he is doing.) 

They’re on the train for about an hour and Harry has no fucking idea where they could be going, or how Y/N was aware of it, but he guesses that he doesn’t give her enough credit. He doesn’t know how long she had been here, or what her intended reason for coming to earth was. Was she even from a different place or was his assumption wrong? And how old was she exactly? For all that he knows, she could have lived in Berlin for years upon years and knows the place like the back of her hand. Is that why when the train stops and he catches a glimpse of her walking out and he all but trips over himself to stand and leave as well, having zoned out as he sat. 

Harry thinks that he was doing quite well at his sleuthing, until he loses sight of her and panics as he steps out of the subway, only to be sideswiped by a hand looping around his wrist. He squawks an embarrassing noise, startled and alarmed, feeling mildly comforted when he realizes that was Y/N who stopped him but then remembers their situation and his blood runs cold. 

“Did you really believe that you could fool me?” She questions him, her eyes burning holes into him, “As if I couldn’t smell you as soon as you woke up.” 

He opens his mouth and nothing comes out of his mouth, just weird, shot out little grunts of trying to find the words for an explanation because. . .because he didn’t really have an answer other than he was being nosy. But she is not one to drop things -- when Y/N wants answers from him, she gets answers from him and that’s just life now. Where he can normally evade people’s questions, she did not let up. Though he could tell that she did not waste effort in compelling him, because he would eventually crack beneath the pressure of her gaze and tell her everything. 

“I’m just curious!” He exclaimed, exasperated with himself for getting caught, and for being dumb enough to think that he could sneak behind someone with heightened senses, “I wanted to know what you got up to in the mornings, sometimes, you’ve never -- you’ve never told me, and I was just interested.” 

Her stare is unrelenting, though it does appear like she is taking his words into consideration. Mulling them over in her head, and he can only tell because of how much time he spent with her up to this point, that when her jaw clenches its because she’s biting down on her teeth before she makes a decision. And whatever that decision may be, involves her looping her fingers around his wrist and giving him a good pull in the direction of what appeared to be a bike rental. Harry has no clue where they are exactly, but it definitely was no longer the city bit of Berlin. She’d managed to find a countryside of sorts, where she appeared to have already been privy to as she reaches into the pocket of her jeans and retrieves two fives from her pocket and hands them to the teller behind the counter. He says something graciously in German as he slides her two keys, to which Y/N responds in fluent tongue, before giving him another hard pull towards the bikes. 

“You can have the blue one.” She tells him, placing one of the keys in his hand  before releasing it and undoing the lock of her rented bike. Harry follows and though he is still confused, he thought it best not to question her. Not yet at least, when he’s still very much on thin ice and she has every capability to tell him to go home before disappearing how she does. 

They ride on the sidewalk passing a few bricks, and the cottage like buildings lining the brick streets soon switch to trails with  solely greenery. Looking lush and fresh for early spring, with flowers that threaten to bloom on shrubbery and early vernal berries that dot the branches, despite the bite of a chill that still works through his bones as they ride. His fingers latched around the handle are kissed red from the cold, and his lips feel chapped from the way the wind (at times icy) whipped his face. He wishes he would have worn longer pants, but the longer they ride, the longer he exerts his legs, the warmer he becomes. He knew that soon enough the cool air would feel good on his heated, sweaty skin, but when he was not sure of how long they’d be riding, or where they were going to end up, he was dreading every bit of it. 

Thirty minutes had passed before Y/N has so much as slowed down, coming upon a segment where the woods they had found themselves in, opened up to a vast field, with green grass that expanded as far as his eyes could see. It was speckled with new growth of some plants in the area nearest to them, and farther away (at least a couple acres) he could see where corn must be grown. A stray plow is in that same field, including a large wooden barn and just a hop skip away there was a small, white house. It looked like something off an old TV show promoting family values and countryside life, or so he could tell. 

Y/N has no intent to go all that way though, as she puts the bike down gently in the grass, and walks about a quarter of the way into the field. She pauses, then takes a seat, and turns her head back for the first time all day as if she were beckoning Harry with her eyes to hurry up. Harry makes his way to her quickly, a slight jog even with his legs burning from the bike ride, and he’s grateful to sit beside her. As he expected, the cool breeze feels good now whipping against his face now, and he took a deep breath, planning on asking her why they would be out here. Why she would go out of her way to rent a bike, to come to a place like this, to sit in a field. 

But Y/N always knew when he was going to talk or ask questions, even before he knew sometimes. 

“In every place we go, I find where the energy is strongest,” she explains, her voice calm and collected, “I talk to your gods there.” 

She says it so matter of fact that Harry almost takes it as such. 

Almost. 

“Could you. . .what -- what do you talk about?” He didn’t deem it smart to interrogate her on the gods that she speaks of -- whenever Harry begins to pry further than necessary, she shuts down and tells him nothing, so he has to weigh his options on what he finds might irritate her. If he were her, he wouldn’t want to go into the complexities of the universe for a human, especially when Harry is a thousand percent positive that he would not only fail to completely comprehend it, but require several explanations before he could even grasp at the subject. 

“Many things,” she answers, nodding, “Mostly you.” 

“What --” Harry gulps, unsure if he wants to know the answer, but this is the first time she has ever opened up to him about anything, so he swallows back his hesitation, “What about me?” 

Y/N sighs, like she’s bored of this already and leans back on her palms, “They tell me I am not allowed your soul even though I am sparing it from corruption, and still tend to make you safe -- or I will be banished to hell..” She pulls her head some to face him, “I suppose I do not mind this small price. You are nice company, even when you are stalking me.” 

Harry’s brows pull inward, his heart racing and his cheeks warmed with embarrassment, but he thinks he could pass it off from the just being rosy from their impromptu workout, “I was not!” 

“It is alright,” she assures him, “I’ve read humans tend to be creeps.” 

The smile on her mouth suggests she’s teasing and Harry smiles back, despite the information she had just given him. Though it was respectively very little, it was more than she had ever let him in on, and he felt. . .warm, if that made sense. She let him in on something and told him that he was good company, and yeah -- yeah, maybe he’s choosing to ignore the heavy stuff for when he’s alone in the shower later, but that’s his problem. 

“You do owe me though, for invading my privacy,” she tells him. 

“Yeah? What do you want?” He asks, though he had a feeling he already knew. 

“I would like to try kissing you.”