Hange Zoe Short Story Collection

Line Without a Hook (AU): Part 1

Pairing: GN Hange x F Reader

Warnings: Mild angst 

A/N: Hi everyone! I think a high school au has been one of the most requested ones I've ever received to this date. So, I've combined like four requests into one! Sorry, it took so long, this is around 12 chapters and around 28k words. Also, daily updates until this story is finished! Also, a disclaimer...I have not actually gone to a "normal" high school. I went to a private all girls academy (my parents really didn't want me to get a boyfriend but jokes on them because I'm gay) and graduated two years early to go to college. So, the setting of the following story is based on a private academy and might seem incredibly cliche, sorry about that! This story is inspired by Line without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery. 

"I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me when we're alone. You can hold my hand if no one's home..."

The air shimmered, enveloping everyone that stood on the asphalt road in a muggy embrace. The cicadas hummed in the background, overpowering everyone's senses. If one strained their ear, they could hear the soft mumblings of adults and the chaotic conversations of all the children. There was a smell of something burning...meat perhaps? Or was that corn on the cob? The sun was on its descent, and the street was basked in a light orange glow. Two kids—no older than seven—sat on the stoop of a small brick home, both of their knees scabbed and scarred from the endless amounts of times they had fallen the past few days. Their hands were sticky because of the red popsicles they clutched. The heat had caused the icy treats to melt within seconds. It was any other, lazy, summer day.

"Hange?" One of the kids spoke up, turning her head towards her companion. "Why does the sun hum?"

"Huh?" Hange blinked, the lens of their glasses accentuating how wide their eyes were. "The sun doesn't hum. It doesn't make any noise, (Y/N)."

"Then what is this noise?" (Y/N) frowned. "It always happens whenever the sun is shining. I thought it was because the sun was shining too loud."

"No, silly," Hange laughed, their giggles causing a few adults to look their way. It was one of those neighborhood barbeques, one that signified the end of summer. "Those are cicadas!"

"Cicadas?" (Y/N) repeated, letting the word roll over her tongue smoothly.

"It's a bug!" Hange brightened. They finished off their popsicle and threw the stick in the nearby trash can. "Come, I'll show you!"

"I don't want to see a bug," (Y/N) wrinkled her nose. "They're icky."

"Don't be scared," Hange insisted. They outstretched a hand, peering down at their best friend. It was always like this, wasn't this? Ever since (Y/N) had moved in next door, she had immediately hit it off with Hange. Maybe it was the way they had stared through her window, waving excitedly when she had seen them or maybe it had been the way that Hange had introduced themselves so confidently before inviting her over to play, but (Y/N) had been intrigued instantly. At the time, they had been building a pirate ship and had offered for (Y/N) to be one of the pirates on board. After all, they needed a partner in order to steal treasure, did they not? Since then, the two had been inseparable.

"Your hand is sticky," (Y/N) frowned. The popsicle juice stained their tiny hand, making their fingers appear red.

"Oh," Hange quickly wiped it against their green cargo shorts before stretching it out again. "Come, let me show you a cicada before night comes and they run away!"

(Y/N) hesitantly reached out and slipped her hand through Hange's. She felt their warm, slightly sticky, skin against her own and she squeezed twice. Without another word, Hange smiled widely and began to tug her towards the woods nearby. The two passed by the adults who were fussing with the grills and passing out plates of steaming food, they passed by the older kids that were engaged in a competitive game of soccer, they passed by the toddlers and babies, the ones that ran around in circles for no reason. (Y/N) didn't fret. She wasn't scared, even with a fear of bugs.