Chapter Text
There really wasn’t anything cinematic about the mindset that you had. It really was just as simple and anticlimactic as laying in bed and understanding that it really wouldn’t matter that much if you stopped breathing. You’ve known that was the case for years, and while you have tried to do things about it... you always left at the last second.
You were tired.
Too tired to move most of the time. Too tired to even feel sometimes. If anything, it was more like a silent resignation. Surrender.
You weren’t even supposed to be around this long.
Every day felt more like a prison sentence. It wasn’t living, it was surviving, plain and simple, and barely so.
It quickly became a habit of going through the motions of your waking hours before coming home and collapsing into bed.
And then waking up.
Again.
And again.
And again.
You didn’t want to wake up tomorrow. You wished you hadn’t woken up today.
Your tiny apartment was thoroughly engulfed in the scent of old air, despair, and blood. The lights in it had been barely ever turned on and the blinds haven’t been open in months upon months.
And you just couldn’t do it anymore.
Years and years did nothing but solidify the idea that it didn’t matter if you stayed. At this point, living hurt.
So you knew what you had to do. You were going to end it all tomorrow.
You stood up from your bed, scornfully tearing yourself away from its warmth and comfort, and started packing for your godforsaken job. You hated pretty much everything about it, the people, the pay, but at least it covered rent and food. Or, more accurately, just rent and some food, much less than you should be eating. Was it because you felt like you didn’t deserve to eat, because you forgot that your body needed sustenance, or because you were too exhausted to stand up and eat, you didn’t know.
You put on a coat before picking up your bag and walking out of the door. You then descended the grey, cramped stairwell before finally (unfortunately) being greeted with the cold november air of the outside world.
It was cloudy and windy, though you didn’t exactly mind. The sun wasn’t on your top ten favourite things in the world. As you were walking to the cafe where you worked, you noticed a crowd and loud voices coming from within it. You usually disliked crowds and people in general. You told yourself that whatever was going on didn’t really matter- probably just a small fight between two drunks.
But something in you begged you to go, and you obeyed.
You pushed through the crowd gently, whispering apologies to the people who seemed too stunned to mind.
In the middle were two people, a tall person, seemingly a circus performer in red who was sitting on the ground and a man, clearly not sober, rambling and swinging his fist around as he stood above him. The performer had a bruise on his cheek, and it was no rocket science where that came from.
The man just kept spewing nonsense. “Get out of this town, you freaks! People are going missing because of you!”
People around you started to whisper.
“That guy’s too tall, he’s weird.”
“Maybe he deserves this? Probably asked for it.”
“He’s not fighting back, so he must be guilty of something!”
You grit your teeth and take a breath, fully aware of the mistake you’re about to make, and swiftly step between the performer and the man.
“Sir, please, there’s no need for violence.” you say to the man, trying quite hard to make sure that you don’t sound scared. Whether you succeeded is up for debate but the man sneers at you, and you can smell the liquor on him.
“Get out of my face! This freak and his little circus are making people disappear!”
“Do you have proof of that?”
“I don’t need it! Ever since they came to town, people have been going missing!”
“It could be a coincidence.”
“One of them was my sister! I’m going to get to the bottom of this! Move!”
“No,” you say as firmly as you can while pretending that your knees are not shaking. “I won’t move. I understand you’re upset, but you’re just trying to find someone to blame. Please leave. And sober up.”
“YOU IDIOT! DON’T YOU SEE?! THEY ARE THE REASON!”
“Leave or I will call the cops on you for public intoxication and assault.”
The man grunted before spitting at you (he missed by a wide range) and storming off.
You let out a breath of relief and turned around to the performer before extending your hand and helping the performer to his feet. He was tall, very, very tall, towering above you with a silly but, to an extent, adorable smile.
“Sorry about that,” you murmured. “Some people are assholes. Oh- um,” fumbling with your fingers, you pulled out a bandaid and gently placed it on the performer’s cheek. “Here. It probably won’t help too much, but if it hurts tomorrow, you should see a doctor.”
You suppressed a yip as something hit the back of your head, a pebble it seemed. Whoever threw it was already running away, weirdly enough. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Your shift started in 5 minutes.
You fumbled with the alarm before saying a few more empty nothings and dashing away. “Oh- uh- I have to go, sorry- take care!”
You skidded into the cafe exactly 30 seconds before your shift began, which earned you a sour look from your boss.
“You’re not late. For once.”
“Right,” you said apologetically. “I’ll clock in, just a second. How’s the, um, state of the customers?”
Your boss hummed. “They’re... fine. Carol’s not here, hadn’t told me anything, it’s as if she just disappeared.”
“Oh... I hope she’s alright.”
“Yeah, me too. Now, clock in.”
You nodded and were about to do so when he stopped you.
“Also. Clean up those flyers, the customers keep leaving them around, it’s annoying.”
You say something in response before clocking in and putting on your apron. With no new customers in line, you took it as a chance to collect the flyers scattered on the tables. You could hear the customers around you murmuring about something, the circus if you had to guess, though you didn’t exactly care enough to listen in on it.
A customer in a blue suit called you over soon enough. As you came to the table, you took notice of his cup of espresso and his carefully slicked back brown hair.
You started speaking in your practiced customer service voice. “What can I help you with?”
“I just noticed that you had all of these flyers. I could take them for recycling.”
“Oh! Um, yeah, sure, go right ahead,” you said as you put the flyers on the table in front of him. “Thank you so much! This is a huge help.”
The man waved the words off with a chuckle. “No problem at all. By the way, do you like circuses? Perhaps you would want to visit the one in town? I have a spare ticket if you want it.”
“Uh- oh not that... that’s very kind of you but I’m afraid I will be...” you fidgeted with your hands, something you commonly did when nervous. “Busy.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Sleeping and cutting counts as doing something, no?
“It’s a special occasion, no? Not every day a circus comes to town.”
“No, really. I’m afraid I can’t accept that, but I’m sure someone else would. Thank you, and sorry.”
“Ah. Shame, quite a shame, but it’s understandable.”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
With a nod, you go behind the counter, ready to serve the next customer once they come.
—
The work day went by without any more memorable encounters, and soon enough all of the customers left the cafe.
Your boss called you over. “I’m going to go home now, close up and clean, alright?”
“Okay,” you nodded.
“And be careful when going home, it’s quite dark out.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The chime on the door rang when your boss closed it, and you stretched, slightly sore from the hours on your feet. Now you just needed to clean the tables and close up.
The door’s chime rang again, and you looked up to say that the cafe was closed before you stopped halfway through your sentence.
Nobody was there.
You could’ve sworn that you heard the chime ring, but then shrugged, choosing to think that it was just a trick of your mind and ignoring the uneasy feeling that was coiling in your chest.
The lights suddenly flickered and turned off.
“...Boss? Is that you?” you murmured, clinging on to the last fibre of hope that maybe it was just his idea of a prank.
No answer came.
Your anxiety bloomed in your chest painfully, making it hard to breathe as you tried to suppress the tremors of your panicked body.
Calm down, you told yourself. Go back to the counter and turn the lights back on. Simple.
You felt like you were being watched.
In your scared shitless state, you stumbled to the counter, bumping your thigh against it and biting your tongue to prevent a hiss of pain escaping you. Fresh cuts didn’t bear well with having things touch them. Still, you went over to the breaker and turned the lights back on with shaking fingers.
The lights turned back on immediately after you’ve reset the breaker and you sighed in relief.
It was quite peculiar, how scared you were just now. And of what? Dying? As if you didn’t want to die?
Your thoughts wander away from the self interrogation as you scolded yourself for not locking the door.
The chime rang again, and this time the performer in red from earlier walked in, bending down slightly to avoid hitting the doorframe.
“Oh, it’s you,” you said, slightly surprised. You didn’t expect to see him again at all. You then noticed that his forehead was bleeding. “Oh my god- you’re bleeding! Are you alright?”
Tall as he was, the guy seemed quite sweet and harmless. He extended his arm with a... paper flower in it?
“Is... that for me?” he nodded. “Thank you,” you said gently as you took the flower from his hand. “Can I help you with your injury?”
He nodded once more and sat where you told him to. You took out a napkin before wetting it with water and carefully wiping the gash and putting another bandage on it. You were more than aware that it would probably not help much with an injury like this, but as the russians say,
“a try is not torture.”
He seemed quite happy as you put away the napkin. “You don’t speak, huh? Or is that part of the act?”
He looked around and then stepped closer.
“I cannot be seen speaking,” he said.
You chuckle. “Ah, so it was part of the act.”
“Indeed it is, my dear. Many thanks for your help. My name is Pierrot, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too!” you said before introducing yourself as well.
“I know,” he whispered, too quietly and quickly for you to hear.
“So... a Pierrot? You don’t really look like one.”
“That much is true,” he agreed. “We had to modernize my costume, but my role has remained.”
“People have been rough with y’all. Sorry about that.”
“I must admit that we do not appear... ordinary, it worries people.”
“That’s no excuse though, is it? Be careful, alright? Oh-” you reached over and took off the first bandage that you gave him. “It was coming off, haha. There we go, that’s better.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. Was it just your eyes playing tricks, or did his mask become pinker around his cheeks? “I brought you a... token of appreciation.”
You picked up what he slid across the wooden counter. “A ticket?” you asked, studying the red piece of paper. “You sure about this? Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Of course not! We have some special tickets to hand out at times. I would be overjoyed if you came to watch my show.”
You mulled the thought over for a few seconds before agreeing with a light laugh. “Okay then! Thank you. Oh right- I’m really sorry, but my boss told me I had to close up, we can’t really stay much longer.”
“I understand,” he nodded. “Have a good night my dear.”
You waved him goodbye with a smile as he left the cafe. “Good night!”
—
You were as exhausted as ever when you returned to your apartment and sat on your bed.
That was quite the day.
It was rare for you to actually, truly smile, especially at your job. You picked up your towel and pajamas and went to your bathroom. As you unwrapped your things, a small metal object fell onto the white tiles with a clink.
It was a (very used) pencil sharpener blade.
You haven’t thought much about... that... today. You didn’t feel exactly... bad so to say, but the cold metal rested in your hand so very familiarly, as if calling you to use it, as if convincing you that you wanted to.
Was it an addiction? Maybe. But it was one of the only things that made you feel better, so you gave in.
You only stopped when sticky blood covered your fingers and beaded on the cuts exquisitely.
You then turned the shower on and stepped in, careful to prevent the harsh stream of water from hitting your cuts directly.
Once you left the steaming bathroom, you flopped onto the bed and curled up under your blanket, twisting and turning until sleep finally took you, something it failed to do for days in a row at times.
While you slept, a figure opened your balcony’s glass door and silently stepped in. Not even the bells on his costume and hat dared make any noise as he walked through your room, avoiding stepping on the bloody tissues covering your floor like a carpet. He bent over you once he reached the side of your bed, gently stroking your face and brushing the hair out of your eyes. You looked so beautiful and peaceful while sleeping. What worried him, however, was the scent of fresh blood.
When he first met you, he realised that the kind human smelled of blood. Pierrot was not new to the scent, but you didn’t smell of fresh blood, but rather an old scent, built with layers upon layers clinging to you like a vine.
He pulled the blanket over your shoulders before sitting down on the floor and just watching you. He watched as you breathed peacefully and, once he was fully sure that you would not wake up, carefully reached out and held your hand.
It was only hours later that he stood up, opened the balcony door and stepped out, sparing you one more glance before leaving. It was more than obvious that something was wrong, but... you were so kind and gentle. You were special. You must be his. You will be his.