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Humans take safety very seriously. They insist on protection from every single thing in the world. From sunscreen to locks on bikes, humans feel the need to be secure. I would not be so judgmental of these techniques if they actually worked.
The small house that I had set up did not protect me from the bugs. The sleeping bag, which reminded me of an oversized cocoon, did not keep my face safe from the bloodsucking insects. The house did not even stay together when I began thrashing around in self-defense.
Standing now in the cold, I tried not to look at the remains of the small house. I knew that If I did, I would be reminded that I needed to put it back together. The longer that I avoided looking at it, the more I could avoid repairing it.
In fact, if I left it alone and walked away from it entirely, I could just have Asta take care of things in the morning. She seems to know what she is doing a lot of the time, anyway. With a sigh, I stepped away from the mess and rubbed my eyes tiredly with my fingers.
I hoped that the mosquitos did not suck any blood out of me. I do not like itching. I hate when body parts itch. Just at the thought of it, I scratched lightly at the side of my face with a shudder that I would like to blame on the cold. Focusing my attention on the dark night sky, I took a few more steps away from the small, portable house.
I miss home. I really do. I want to leave Earth and go back home more than anything. I suppose that I will have fifty years to plan my departure after I contact my people by Asta's request. A strange pressure in my throat- what humans refer to as a 'lump' prevents me from swallowing correctly as I advert my gaze from the sky and at the ground beneath my feet.
I need sleep. This body requires a specific amount of it to function properly. However, without the home the insects made me destroy, I would be left with only the sleeping bag. I will admit that although neither would protect me from the mosquitoes, it was better to have them at all. Now that I am without the small home, I am what humans would call a 'sitting duck'.
The unzipping of Asta's small home startles me and I quickly snap out of my thoughts and turn my attention toward her. She looks tired, but so do I, probably. We make eye contact and I nod curtly to acknowledge her. "What are you doing up?" She slurs while leaving the safety of her own small home. I do not answer her until she is closer to me.
"The insects were attacking me," I explain calmly. "I acted in self-defense. They destroyed my small home." I threw out an arm awkwardly to my side to point at the mess that I refused to look at. Asta's tired eyes locked onto it and she let out a long sigh.
"Tent, Harry," Asta muttered. "It's called a tent."
"Ok." I shrugged as if it made really any difference. The correction did not fix my sleeping situation. "The insects destroyed my tent and interrupted my sleep." I gestured to the mess again to emphasize the fact I could no longer sleep. "You need to fix it."
She turned her head to finally look at me again, one of her dark eyebrows raised questioningly. "Do you have any idea how late it is?" She scoffed. "I'm not your mom, Harry. I don't need to do anything."
"Ha ha ha!" I laughed. "Of course, you are not my mother. That would be hilarious. Ha ha ha." Asta sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. I could tell that she was annoyed. She must have been annoyed, but I could not understand why.
"I'm too tired to put it back together. Can't you just sleep in the sleeping bag?" She asked. I blinked at her and waited for the punching line. When it did not come, I furrowed my eyebrows at her.
"I will be attacked again. Insects are ruthless monsters. The 'tent'-" The word still felt foreign. Tent was used to describe the rising of one's pants in the pelvic region when aroused- an erection, not a small house. I could not help but smile at the oddity. "-Does not provide the perfect amount of protection but it is better than being left out in the cold for them to eat me."
"Right," Asta let out a yawn before looking at my face. She was studying me carefully, akin to the look that she gave me when she interrogated me about my radio. She must have been thinking hard about something. I did not like this look. But that was the thing about Asta. She had the kind of 'looks' that would trap you. I had no escape. "If you promise not to freak out as you did here," She glanced at the destroyed tent, and funnily enough, so did I. "You can share the tent that I'm sleeping in."
"Do I need to promise that?" I mumbled. "I only acted in self-defense. If they come back for me, I will not go easy on them."
"Harry."
"I am serious! They are trying to kill me. I will kill them before they can lay a single bug-hand on my face."
"Harry."
Her voice sounds more tired than before now. I meet her gaze and observe the way her eyes narrow at me. I cannot tell if she is angry at me now or falling alseep while standing. Humans are capable of sleeping in rather odd positions after all. When I first met Asta, she was slumped against a chair. Chairs, the last time that I checked, are not beds. If she does fall asleep while standing here, she could fall. What if she hurts herself? I am sure that a look of worry crosses my face and I am also sure that she notices it.
However, before I can allow her to respond to my reaction, I nod. "I promise," Only because I do not want her to pass out here and get hurt. "I promise I will go easy on them." Falling asleep while standing or not, I will protect myself. She watches me for a couple of seconds before bowing her head and turning back toward her tent.
Before I follow her, I rummage through the remains of my tent to retrieve my sleeping bag. Once inside, I lay it down gently and smile in satisfaction. Unfortunately, I am not able to tuck myself back into the warm cocoon and drift back into sleep. Asta grabbed my arm and tugged gently on it.
"Can I ask you something first?"
The question throws me off a little. We are supposed to be sleeping. It is hard to say no to Asta, though. So despite how tired that I am getting, I nod and look down at her expectantly. Whatever she needs to say, she does not vocalize.
I frown and tilt my head toward her with what must be a look of concern. She has not said a word for fifteen seconds. Is she initiating a staring contest or something? If so, I have already lost. Her grip on my arm tightens suddenly which has my attention immediately.
"What do you think trust means?"
It's surprising enough to bring my gaze away from her hand and back to her face. Trust? Was this a trick question? Did she want a specific answer? How many definitions could that word have?
"I do not have a dictionary," I inform her. I did not bring one with us. Did she want me to? What use would it have for us?
"I don't want the exact definition. I want to know what you think. What do you know about trust?" Asta restates her question, which does help me. It helps me understand what she wants from me. I am still unsure of how to respond to her inquiry. The pressure in my throat returns- the lump that does not allow me to swallow.
"My people," I begin without thinking. I pause for only a moment and her grip on my arm relaxes. "My people trusted me to complete my mission. They gave me very specific orders. They trusted me and I did not follow through. They were wrong to trust me." She is not liking this answer. There is a strange sadness in her eyes that I cannot understand. She wanted me to save the very world that I was set to destroy. Why would this upset her? "I failed them," I explained, the lump in my throat getting harder and harder to swallow. I never did belong here. But do I even belong up there anymore? The thoughts of this always make my chest ache and my sinuses congest.
"I failed them and I will continue to fail them. I could be in my bunker with forty-two as I await the apocalypse instead of building the radio to contact my people. Instead, I am here and that is okay," I force myself to not look away from her as tempting as it is. I now understand what humans mean when they describe a person's stare as 'burning'. I cannot extinguish this burn. "My people can no longer trust me. But I know, Asta, that I can trust you. If you want to keep this world safe, I will keep it safe, too."
If I needed to describe trust, I would describe all of what I felt for Asta. I do not think she needs to hear all of that right now. She was angry when I first told her about my feelings. She does not seem very happy right now, either. I can wait.
Staring into Asta's eyes, I can see that hers are leaking. I do not like seeing people cry. It is weakness- a weakness that I had the misfortune of experiencing personally. Her hand is still on my arm and, with only a little bit of hesitance, I place the opposite hand over hers. She flinches and looks down at our hands, and while still crying, she smiles. I cannot help but scoff.
"How can you be sad and smiling?" It is a genuine question.
Instead of answering, she reaches up with her other hand and cups the side of my face. This action is confusing to me. Is she upset? Has she been happy this entire time? "Maybe we should go to sleep," I suggest when it is quiet for too long. I have done a lot of talking in the past five minutes and the lack of response from Asta is starting to make me nervous.
Finally, with a "Do you really mean all of that?", I am blessed to hear from her again.
I sigh in relief before I nod. I do not enjoy Earth a lot and I do not think that I ever will. Asta enjoys Earth a lot and I enjoy Asta. If protecting Earth for a while means she will enjoy me, too, I will do what I can. Maybe planning a way out during the fifty years is not a good plan. If Asta enjoys me all of the time for fifty years, I would like to spend every minute of that time with her... like this.
Her hand on my face is warm. Her hand on my arm is warmer. The affection altogether makes me feel warm inside. My human heart- all of my human organs in this form, in fact, are on fire. This fire on the inside must be presenting itself on the outside as well, because my face, namely the spot that she is cupping with her palm, feel as if they are burning under her soft touch. Slowly, I smile at her. "I do mean all of it," I confirm for her in case she did not see me nodding. I must have been saying all of the right things after all, because the next thing that I know, her hand moved to the back of my neck and she lets go of my arm to loop under my armpit, bringing me in close for a hug.
My people do not hug.
I also do not receive hugs on this planet often.
So, it does take me a few seconds, admittedly, to return the hug. I am not sure for how long exactly we hold one another. I just know that I am smiling the entire time as I keep one hand on her hip and the other in her long, black hair.
Asta pulls away first, her hand lingering on my neck. I look down at her with the same smile. She has an odd look on her face when she sees my smile, which must mean that I am getting better at it.
"Goodnight, Harry." Asta does not let go of me.
"Goodnight," I reply.
"If the insects attack you again, let me know, okay?"
"What will you do?" I scoff out a laugh.
"I'll scare them away for you. Or kick you out of the tent before you bring the whole thing down," She laughs too, which is a sign that I definitely did something right. I did everything right. I will continue to do everything right. A sense of pride washes over me and for a moment, I forget all about the joke that she just made.
"Ha ha ha!" what a slap of the knee. I turn back to my sleeping bag, left neglected on the floor of the tent. "I am sure that you will. Now can we sleep? We have a very busy schedule tomorrow."
"Yeah, sorry," Asta turns back to her own sleeping bag, slipping in and getting comfortable in no time. "I just needed to talk to you."
I cannot help but wonder why she would want to talk about that topic specifically, but it is better to not ask questions when we are both tired. I would rather capture z's and count farm animals than dwell on any of Asta's thoughts.
I am back in the protective cocoon in the sleeping bag again, my eyes fluttering closed and my body relaxing.
It is only when I hear the singing birds and I can faintly see a red tint behind my eyelids that I realize I slept wonderfully after sharing the tent with Asta. I thought that it would not make a difference sleeping beside her, but apparently, it is not just the excessive amount of bike locks and cans of sunscreen that can make a person, or an alien in my case, feel protected and safe.
Opening my eyes, I can see the woman's sleeping form on her side, facing me with her eyes closed and a relaxed expression on her face. I am unable to stop myself from feeling that warmth again.