Narrating Our Love (The Host x Reader)

2//Blindside

(Forgive me if I botch the POV's up.)

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No POV.

"The Host kept his current clothes on; a discarded hoodie and a pair of sweats far too big for him, and huffed in annoyance as he pushed his way out from the pile of rubbish." The Host did what he said, and stood for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"The Host, as a matter of fact, did not live in an alleyway littered with trash-" In an instant, the alleyway and trash was gone. He walked to the sidewalk, and stared at the empty space in front of him. "-but lived in a large, 2 story home." A large, 2 story home rose up from the ground. There was a slight tremble in the earth, but nothing was majorly affected by this.

The house overlapped the shop and the building beside it. It all shifted away to make room for the house. It looked like the scene in 'Up', where people were building around the home.

"The Host hummed happily, seeing the wonderful creation in front of him. He grabbed the bag that had the coat in it, walked into the building, and headed straight for the bedroom-" The Host... did... exactly that. He walked into his bedroom and places the bag on the bed. "-The Host then heads for the bathroom, getting undressed and ready for a shower." He heads to the bathroom and takes off the clothes. He hesitated with the bandage around his eyes.

"The... The H-Host..." His hands shook, and he held his breath, gripping at the bandage and ripping it off. He didn't bother to narrate himself as he tossed it in the trash and got in the shower and proceeded to wash.

"Host, this is The Author talking. Hey buddy! C'mon, we talked about the bandage thing, remember?"

"Y-Yes, we did..." The Host sighed out loud.

"Well, can you explain why you hesitated again?"

"B-Because... I..." The Host was at a loss for words. He really didn't have an explanation. He didn't understand why he would always hesitate about that damned bandage. He can take it off with ease one day, but the next, it's a fiasco!

"I'll have to start punishing you, you know? The Author get's very angry, remember?"

"Yes, Author. I can't help it, though." The Host touched his cheek, only a few inches away from his eye socket.

"I understand. Now, this will be the last time I let you go with the hesitation business. If you hesitate again, I won't be happy, you hear?"

"The Host understands." He nodded, and finished up his shower.

"Thatta boy, Host! Get yourself ready, the girl will come tomorrow. Oh, and, sorry about the trench coat thing; man, she must've thought there were two guys under there, or something... Well, she wasn't wrong, heh. I'll try not to say anything when she comes by."

"The Host nods, thankful you apologised, and quickly finishes up in the shower."

The Host does indeed finish, and heads for the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He opens up a drawer and pulls out a brand new bandage, wrapping it around his eyes like a blindfold.

"The Host..." He takes a deep breath, and exhales. "The Host slicks back his hair, making it look nice and neat, even if the bandage he applied is in the way. He then walks over to the bed and opens up the bag, his dull-yellow coat still looking as beautiful as ever..." The Host smiles and hugs it. It now has a distinct smell to it; (Y/N).

"The Host asks The Author for permission to speak in first-person, and wanting to not speak from a narrator's perspective."

"The Author gives The Host permission. You earned it, even after I sort of forced you to talk to get the coat back."

"The Host-... I-I mean... thank you." The Host puts on his coat and sighs.

"Author, is t-this how a 'crush' is like? You see someone who is the p-pure embodiment of a Goddess p-put into a human, just to experience what n-normal people are l-like?" He sits down on the bed, twiddling his thumbs.

"Host, I have no idea what you're talking about, but sure. You like the girl a lot, don't you?"

"I do." The Host falls back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well, she is coming over tomorrow. Do you think you'd want to confess then?"

"I wish. She m-might be weirded out by me to b-begin with, anyway." He rolled over onto his side.

"Why is that? I think we're alright. Don't people usually have a voice in their head, telling them exactly what to do and say?"

"No."

"Oh. Then you're right. I'll keep quiet, though! No sign of me at all, I promise."

"You s-said that last time, and w-we ended up getting r-robbed and b-beaten. Where are those other c-clothes anyway? They need to be w-washed." The Host sat up and started looking for the missing clothes.

"You wanna have them washed already by the power of writing?"

"No. I n-need to practice b-being average for her t-tomorrow." He spots them, stands up, and starts walking to pick them up.

"What if she doesn't come, though?"

The Host freezes up.

"You know I'm right."

914 words.