Narrating Our Love (The Host x Reader)

3//Psychosis

No POV.

"G-get out of my head, w-would you? Just t-this once." The Host picked up the clothes and headed toward the laundry room.

"But you understand I'm right, yes?"

"I'm ignoring y-you." He tosses the clothes in the washing machine and grabs the soap.

"You can't ignore someone who's going to be in your head forever. And ever. And ever."

"Can't h-hear you, blah, blah." He pours in the soap and sets the washer to 'delicate'.

"You'll grow old and alone. But I'll always be here, in your head. Your thoughts."

"Hmm, I t-think I'll go and l-look up a cooking recipe." He closes the top of the washer, puts the soap away, and heads to his bedroom.

"Nobody is going to want to be with somebody who is severely schizophrenic and narrates his entire life from the moment he wakes up, until the day he dies."

"I said ENOUGH!" The Host stomps his foot down and grabs his head, immediately falling to his knees and cowering over. "UUAAAGHHHHHHH!! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

"I'm like a little parasite that the doctors can never find without damaging your brain."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" The Host slams his hands on the ground, trembling.

"You'll never find love. You'll never know the feeling of being loved. You'll-"

"UUUAAAAAAAAA!!!!" The Host bashes his head in the ground. Once.

"Host??! Host! Stop!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" Twice.

"Host! It's Author! Please stop!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE..." Three times

"Stop!!"

"LEAVE-" Four times.

"-me-" Five times.

"-... alone..." Six times.

The Host trembled all over, and collapsed. His head was severely bruised and bleeding. His eyes, especially.

"... leave... alone....." He muttered to himself.

Eventually, he passed out.

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The next day...

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Your POV.

Alright, heading back to the spot again... Ah, where was it, the thrift sto- "WOOAH!"

That alley way is now a house!! What the hell? Well, gotta find out if this is the place.

"Uh, knock knock?" I knocked on the door... it opens slowly. I guess the dude forgot to lock it? "Hey, uh, I'm coming in now. It's me, the trench-coat buyer from yesterday."

I walk in, not knowing what to expect. "Hello? Mr. Mystery man?"

I walk through the halls and- oh. "OH, SHIT!"

I run over to the man on the ground and flip him over. His head was busted and his... his eyes...? No time, I called 9-1-1.

"Hello, 9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"Hi, I'm (Y/N), and I'm at 843 StevenTown, Old York. Please hurry! My friends' head has been busted open!"

"Help is on the way, ma'am. Please stay on the line until help arrives, okay?"

"I will, thank you."

Wait, how did I know the address of this place? Okay, no, seriously. Something is wrong, I can feel it. Is this mystery dude actually some magic man? Oh my God. I'm in the world of Harry Potter. Or, or Narnia, some magic thing like that.

"Huhhnnngg..." Thank God he's alive.

"Hey, hey, buddy, it's me, the gal who gave you the coat back. I called 9-1-1 for help. Your head is busted, and-"

"Y-you called... 9-1-1?" He didn't face me, but blood kept dripping down. I'm surprised he didn't bleed out, honestly. God knows how many hours it's been.

"Well, yes! Your head and eyes; they're bleeding."

"N-no! Call t-them away!" The guy still didn't look at me, but I felt his eyes widen... or, whatever was left of them, I'm not sure.

"Ma'am?" The operator piped in. "Is everything alright?"

"Y-yes! False al-larm, it was a p-prank gone too f-far! I'm alr-right!"

"Sir, help is right around the corner. The police will come by and check up on you. They've got it from here."

"Thank you, ma'am. May I hang up now?" I replied.

"You may, since the police are near. Have a swell day- and please, be careful with pranks."

"Thank you. Have a good day- and we will." I hung up, and the man disappeared. Hey, wait, where did he go?? Oh, nevermind, I'll just follow the blood trail to his bedroom door. It was closed.

"Sir! Mystery man! Come back!" I knocked on the door.

"T-Tell the p-police to go aw-way, then!"

Eh?! That's not suspicious as hell. "But, how? That'll sound suspicious!"

"T-Then give me s-some time..."

"Uh... okay?"

Ding dong! "Police! Is everything alright?"

"Ah-- Coming!!" I followed the trail back to the front door, and opened it slowly.

Mystery man, please hurry with whatever you're doing.

"Hello, officers! I'm so sorry. It was a prank gone wrong. The blood is actually ketchup, I should've observed more closely."

"Hmm..." They both gave me a look, and shrugged.

Wait, what?

"Alrighty, miss. Sorry to disturb you. Have a pleasant day!" They tipped their hats, gave me a smile, and left.

I'm either tripping hard from whatever is in the air, or that seriously just happened. I closed the door, and-... where's the trail? What the fuck is happening?!

"Mystery man?! Who the hell are you, and what are you doing to me? Or to reality?!"

I pinched myself. Clearly not dreaming. I look over at his couch and walk up to it, touching it, making sure it's actually real. Yep, it is. I take a seat.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" I put my head in my hands. My brothers and sisters in Christ, I do not know what is going on anymore.

I sigh.

943 words.