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wthtorke · 2 years ago

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In the dead of night

Yautja x Reader (gender neutral) - 2.7k words - sfw

Seen first on Patreon - enjoyy

Loneliness was ever present in your life. It was like the very air you breathed, familiar; it surrounded you. Swallowed you whole most nights.

Even living with your family, even with your friends, nothing cured it. It felt like a disease; eating away from the inside out. It made it hard to breathe when your chest tightened when you curled into a ball and hoped for something, anything to make it stop.

Night after night you waited in your bed, fell asleep waiting, and woke up waiting. Always waiting.

But waiting for what? For who?

You didn't know.

You did your chores, worked, and studied. You did your part during the day, closing yourself in your room at night. You cried more often than you'd like. The tears clouded your vision, but after a while, you didn't have the heart to wipe them away anymore.

The windows were open that night. You rested your arms on the windowsill, looking out from the second floor of your house, feeling the tears dry with the crisp night air. It was always quiet, save for the occasional dog barking in the distance, or a car driving by. Still, no sound made you feel better. No sound made you feel less out of place, less alone. The lack of it didn't help either. You floated through existence with no rock to hold on to, no rope to latch on to. Nothing.

Sometimes, when crying didn't make it better; you went on walks. You walked around, looked at the flowers, listened to the trees hustling, anything to help distract your brain from its destructive thoughts. Anything to help you run away from things. But walking seemed too much work. Anything seemed too much work.

So you stayed home, looking out the window, waiting. You sigh as you look through the rows and rows of houses on the other side of the street. You felt disconnected from everything, disconnected from this world entirely. Your friends, your family…everything. Your blinks start to get slower and heavier as your breathing evens out.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is how sore your arms are. The next is how cold your face is. You sniffle, grimacing as you retreat your arms from their folded position on the windowsill. You shut your eyes tightly as you stretch. You sigh and look around. It is darker and even quieter than before. How long have you slept? You turn around to look at your clock. 11:23 pm in bold red numbers.

You sigh again and start to get up, turning to close the windows when you're met with your reflection instead of your neighborhood. You jerk back with a startled yell as your foggy brain registers that this is definitely not right. It's a person, someone on your rooftop, at your damn window at 11 pm. You fall from your bed in a tangle of sheets, quickly kicking them away and standing up once more, looking at your window.

Nothing.

You pant as you rub your eyes viciously. You saw it. How could it not be there? You look around your room, feeling the cold shivers go up and down your spine before you dare to look out the window. The rooftop is empty, with no sign of anyone. It didn’t feel right.

Your door opens. “What the hell was that noise? Did you scream?”

You blink, turning around. You look at the floor, the scattered sheets, and the pillow on the ground. “I-”

“Nightmare?” A huff, “Scared the crap outta me.”

“Sorry.” You look back at the window, “it seemed very real.”

You’re haunted. You conclude.

You’re paranoid after that night, always checking corners, looking through the trees, and your window closed. You didn’t tell anyone what you saw. Who would believe you? You struggled to believe in yourself. What would others say?

Every night, you still sit by your closed window, trying to remember what you saw. Panic and sleep had erased most of your image from that night, but you could remember the mask. It was shiny metal sculpted in an odd shape. You didn’t know anyone who looked like that, nor anyone that could possess such a mask.

Still, you thought about it often. You heard that sad people attract spirits that feed off the sad person’s energy. Could that be the case? Was it a spirit? A demon?... That still didn’t feel right. But then, what was it? It could have been a man, though that also didn’t seem right. It didn’t make any noise, and surely it should have. Your room was far from the ground, the rooftop was tall, and there was no ladder and no footprints around the house. You checked everything and found nothing. It was frustrating.

Somehow, for you, things were getting worse. The thin and fragile facade you wore was failing ever since your encounter that night. You were restless and paranoid. You fell behind in your friend's group chats, your ears tuned off at work, and it was even worse at home. The feeling of not belonging was stronger than ever.

There was something out there that knew of you. That thought about you, somehow.

You squinted as you looked through the glass. It didn’t hurt you the first time. What would it do if you gave it another chance? Would it even show up? Was it even real?

You look back at your door and stand up. You lock it and sit back on your bed, bringing your hands to the cold glass again. Your phone lights up, and you look at the screen. Pictures. No doubt from the movie night your friends were having. Your chest tightens, and you look back to the glass.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Trembling hands reach for the locks and undo them. The metal clicking is enough to make you gasp. You shiver and slide the panels back to their corners, leaving the window open and exposed. You stick your head out and look around, but nothing. You sit there for a minute, trembling and scared. Nothing happens.

You sniffle and cross your arms. Was it really a dream? You sigh and get up, grabbing your phone and walking towards your door to unlock it. Your hand rests on the handle when you hear the faintest of snaps above you. You look up, listening intently. Nothing. Your heart speeds up again. Your phone lights up in your hand. Another picture.

You hear another snap. You choke and slowly turn your head back to the window. What you see truly seems to come out of a nightmare. You hear a faint scraping sound against the walls before you see a figure slide into your view from your rooftop. You see the legs first, then the torso. It lands before your window, lowering its arms to its side again.

You freeze. The scream dies in your chest where your heart is about to stop beating, you’re sure.

It is no man.

Men are not that big. Men don’t wear masks like that. Men’s heads are not shaped like that.

Your eyes well up with tears again. You sob, staring at it with wide eyes as it leans closer, craning its head into your room. It looks around briefly before its attention falls back onto you. It grips the window frame and brings its legs up, flinging them inside with grace you didn’t know anything could have.

Its head grazes your ceiling when it stands tall. Its chest rises and falls with the calmness you wish you had right now. It steps closer, and you cry harder when it crouches to be on your level.

This was real. It was happening.

It had been here all along, just above you.

It's an alien. It has to be. It speaks whatever language it knows to you, but you don’t understand. You shake your head and bring your hands to your eyes. Both to wipe the tears away and to shield yourself from them. It speaks again, repeating the same foreign words to you. You shake your head, “please, don’t hurt me-” The sound it makes next is a snort, a huff. Offended. “I don’t understand-” You try, “What- what do you want? Why are you here?”

You’re not sure what the use of talking to it is. If you couldn't understand it what were the chances it understood you?

It points at you.

Oh. Shit.

“Me? You’re here for me?” You frown, “Why?”

It stares at you. The mask’s expression is impassive, cold as the metal it's made out of. It lifts a hand to your face. You see claws and close your eyes tightly, jumping a bit when you feel a finger graze your cheek, wiping away a tear.

You open your eyes to see it holding its wet finger to you. It glistens in the soft moonlight from the window. “Because I cry?” You frown in confusion as you try to decipher its reasoning. “...Because I’m sad?” It looks at you again. A tense second passes, and you try again. “You- You want to know why? Why do I cry?”

It nods.

You choke on your breath. This couldn’t be real.

You wipe your cheeks with your hands and sniffle again. “I feel very alone.” You say. It almost feels stupid to say. “I don’t have anyone that really…understands or cares about me.” The tears pool again, “It hurts.”

It doesn’t say anything, but it tilts its head slightly. You take it as a sign to continue, “My friends and I started drifting apart its been a while now, I don’t know them anymore, and…they don’t know me… My family and I don’t understand each other either.” You swallow dryly, “Everything sucks.” You look up again. “Have you always been here?” It shakes its head. It points at the full moon, and does a rewinding motion with its hand, then holds up four fingers. “Four…months?” It nods again. You also nod. “I was already like this then. Not this bad, but already like this.” You say, thoughtful. “I’m not going to tell anyone about you.” It steps back from you, turning around.

‘He must go home now that he knows.’ You think. Until he sits down on your bed. It creaks heavily under his weight. He looks at the empty spot on his side, then back at you. You will your legs to move when he makes a series of clicking noises at you. Speaking? You didn’t know.

You sit down stiffly by his side, still holding your phone. “You’re- You’re a dude, right? A- uh male?” He nods, and you take a moment to look at him properly. He was well-built. He was very tall and overall also very big. He wore some type of fish netting for clothing and metal equipment along with his mask. Armor? “Are you- here to fight someone?” You ask. He shakes his head. “So, just protection?” He makes a gun sign with his fingers and nods. You wince at the implications.

Over the next hours, you tell him your name and details about your life. You weren’t sure this was safe or wise, but he hadn’t hurt you or shown any signs of aggression. And you were too curious about him to think straight. You also learn that he is definitely not from here either, but that he’s also away from his family at the moment. A stray, as he perked up when you mentioned the word. It was surreal.

“You said you’ve been here for four months. When did you start… seeing me? Where did you see me first?” You ask. He points outside the window, his hand curving along with the streets as they stretch into the horizon, then taking a turn when they reach the trees. “On my walks?” He nods, pointing upwards and then at the trees. “But I haven’t gone on a walk over there in forever.” You frown in confusion, and he nods once more. He points at himself and makes the same trail with his hand again, this time in reverse, from the trees to your house, then pointing at you.

“I didn’t go…so you came.” You realize. He lowers his hand onto yours on the bed so very gently. Your face heats up as more tears threaten to spill again. He makes a noise, and only then do you notice how close to your face he is. His other hand hovers close to your cheek, unsure of what to do. “I’m not sad-” you rush to say, “these are not from sadness, not this time.” You sniffle, “thanks for coming to check on me. It… means a lot to me.” you smile, “even if you almost gave me a heart attack at first.”

He doesn’t move for a brief moment, and you get worried until his hand squeezes yours on the bed. You smile wider and squeeze his back. “I wish I knew I had a friend out there all this time.” He nods, and his chest rises and falls harder this time. He turns his head and looks outside. You follow his gaze and remember the time. You turn your screen on to check. 2:24 AM. When you look up again, he’s looking at you.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

He nods.

Your chest tightens. “Are you going to be in the forest?” You ask, hopefully. He shakes his head. “Ah…You’re going home.” To your surprise, he shakes his head again. “Not home? Where to, then? Can I go visit?” He makes those clicking noises again as he puts his wrist up, pressing a few buttons before a hologram shines from his device. The Earth.

You marvel as he points at one spot, “That’s where we are.” You say, and he nods, then he spins the globe and points somewhere else, but you don’t remember the country’s name, “That’s…very far. I won’t be able to visit you there.” You say. He turns the device off. You rub your arm as he gets up from your bed. He would go away, and things would go back to normal. Except the new normal would be worse. You had close contact with an alien, a friendly one who seemed to care. Even if in his own strange way. It was more than most people in your life ever did for you. You look up at him to plead with him to stay a few more days, maybe a week.

He holds his hand out to you, gesturing to the window with his head.

You stare at his hand before looking up at him again. “You…You can’t be serious.” But he is. He nods, shaking his open hand to you. “I have no money,” you say, “I have no way to-” He huffs. Of course, you wouldn’t be living as a human out there with him. You wouldn’t need any of those things. All you needed was… him.

Your phone lights up again in your hand. A text.

‘You’re missing out.’ You were. But not on what they thought you were.

A soft noise makes you look up again. The clicking again, but it's faster, smoother, and quieter. “Are you purring?” You gape, and he stops it immediately. You smile. Your phone lights up again, but you don’t look. You don’t care anymore. “If I go with you, will you make that noise again?” He huffs.

And nods slowly after a second.

You have him hold your open backpack as you go through your closet, digging out pieces of clothing and documents you might need. Your hand shook for different reasons this time as you tied your shoelaces tightly. He zips your bag closed as you grab your wallet last, stuffing it into one of the outer pockets as light catches your attention once more.

Your phone.

You stare at it and look back at him. “I’m ready.” You say. He nods and hands you your backpack. You barely keep the surprised gasp in your throat when he lifts you off the floor, cradling you to his chest with one arm as he steps on your bed. He grips the window frame like he had done hours before, looking around before looking at you again. “I’ll try not to scream.” You say. He makes a noise that suspiciously sounds like a chuckle before he flings himself off your rooftop with you in his arms.

You fail to keep your promise for the first few jumps, screaming soon turning into surprised laughter as you reach the forest, onward to something new. You smiled and tightened your hold on him, leaving all of your sorrows behind, forgotten. As they always should have been.

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