Chapter Text
Dull. So dull.
The skies were grey, the pavement was grey, even most buildings were aged and had lost their colorful luster.
What little vegetation that had been preserved in this city were losing their leaves too, leaving them barren.
The people weren't any better, wearing mostly black and white.
Color at this time was a scarce commodity.
How monotonous.
How boring.
These people could surely use a bit of fun in their lives.
With a stack of flyers advertising the circus in hand, Pierrot walked down the street with a plastered grin on his porcelain face, putting the papers on any naked wall and handing them out to anyone curious enough, the bells of his red and black jester uniform jingling with every step.
Some children looked upon him with wonder in their eyes, atleast until their parents noticed what they were staring at and quickly ushered them away. It didn't bother him though, why would it? Children and families weren't the target audience anyways.
When they had first arrived, people had been fairly neutral towards the troupe, but with the rumors spreading about a missing woman starting to pop up just as they began to settle in, people started to grow suspicious, even resentful, especially given the type of circus he was a part of.
It was a circus of Horrors, where he and his troupe did their best through various acts to scare any witnesses with shocking, grim and and sometimes gory displays that preyed on their fears.
If the people who blindly hated them just got to experience the circus themselves, Pierrot was sure they'd be more amicable towards them. But as it was, they were cautious.
He supposed that not everyone likes to be scared.
The longer the circus stayed, the more suspicion grew. Where Pierrot before could expect to see curious looks from passersby, they now gave him a wide berth, some even openly glaring at him.
Having experienced this cycle many times before, he knew it wouldn't take long before it reached a boiling point.
And it did, in the form of a man marching up to him and decking him in the face right as he was about to hand out a flyer to somebody else.
Pierrot fell, the stack of papers falling around him onto the grey street.
People around them paused, staring at the display but doing nothing to intervene. The clown, however, didn't expect them to. This was inevitable. Some people just hate clowns.
The man began to shout obscenities, liking him and the circus to demons, blaming them for the missing people, yelling at them to leave this place.
Pierrot was silent as ever as he simply took the verbal lashing, not moving a muscle. There was no point defending himself, he didn't want things to escalate. He just had to wait until the man gets bored and leaves. He kept staring at the dull, grey, boring pavement, down at the man's dull, monotone, boring clothes, his mind wandering.
Everything was so predictable. Everywhere they went, they were eventually, inevitably, chased away.
Just the same old boring routine, in a world devoid of meaning.
The man was getting agitated by his silence, demanding him to speak up, to provide an answer.
He couldn't.
He wasn't allowed to.
Pierrot could sense that the man was about to hit him again and internally braced himself when suddenly, a shadow fell over him.
"What the fuck's your problem, man?! Leave him alone, he's just trying to do his job!"
Pierrot glanced upwards, shocked by the addition of a different voice. Strangely, impossibly, somebody had placed themselves between the man and himself, arms spread out as if to shield him from anymore abuse. Somebody wearing a tan, wool-lined jacket and maroon jeans. A splash of color had entered his field of vision.
The man scoffed, glaring angrily at the newcomer, looking him up and down.
"Working for the devil, more like."
The newcomer stepped closer to the man, getting right in his face with a stormy expression.
"You want a fight? Is that it? C'mon then, I'll take you on." Though he was shorter and smaller, there was a ferocity that suggested that he wouldn't hold back if pressed.
The man, taken aback by the sudden intensity, took a step backwards and glanced around himself, as if noticing the audience of bystanders for the first time, some with phones out. Probably realising that it wasn't worth it to escalate things, he scowled and shook his head, looking between the newcomer and the fallen clown.
"Screw that! Open your eyes! I hope they take you too!"
With that, the man departed, the crowd dispersing shortly after.
When the newcomer, no, his savior, eventually turned around, Pierrot felt his breath catch when he got a good look at your concerned expression, captivated by the compassion present in your eyes.
"Are you okay? Can you stand?" It was equally jarring to hear the same voice that had been threatening the perpetrator earlier go so soft and gentle just for him, as it was utterly tantalising.
He didn't even get to nod before two small hands offered themselves up to him, which he gladly took. Hoisting himself up to a standing position, it was more apparent than ever that his savior was much shorter than him, the top of your head only reaching his shoulders, though that was hardly a surprise. He was 198 cm tall, after all.
He marvelled over how delicate the hands in his bigger grasp was, how delightfully dainty they were. They felt like they were custom-made to fit in his palms. It felt so natural, so... right. If he could stay in this position forever whilst looking into your pretty brown eyes, he would do it in a heartbeat.
"I'm sorry about him, that should never have happened. Are you hurt anywhere?" Oh, how precious.
Pierrot quelled the urge to smooth out the wrinkles in your brow, opting to shake his head in response instead, the bells in his three-point jester hat jingling.
Upon getting the confirmation, your hands left the clown's grasp, much to his dismay. Even through the black gloves, Pierrot felt the ghost of your touch lingering, leaving him already aching for more.
"That's a relief. I need to get going, but please stay safe, okay? Don't let assholes like him get to you." With one last disarming smile sent his way that left him weak in the knees, he watched his savior leave, blending in with the stream of people walking the streets.
He stood there, hands still in front of him, his fingers curling into his palm to preserve the sensation for a bit longer. In that moment, he knew he couldn't let this be the last time they met, not after his savior went out of your way to defend him so fiercely.
With the flyers long forgotten on the boring, dull grey pavement beneath him, Pierrot began to follow you, the only splash of color that mattered to him in this otherwise dull city, his chest feeling lighter than it has in years and his mind spinning with ideas on how to capture your attention.
~☆~
Pierrot had managed to avoid being detected by you during your shift as he observed you through the window, much to his own delight. He didn't have any explanations ready if you caught him staring. He just couldn't help himself, you were so cute running around helping customers with that soft smile of yours, cleaning up tables and brewing coffee.
The café itself was cozy, a whole lot more slower paced than some bigger chains. With a clientèle consisting of mostly pensioners, the odd couple and students working on a project, you could afford to take your time with the customers, paying each and every one of them special attention. Oh, how he wished it was him in their stead, these people don't even know how lucky they are!
At one point, he may have gotten a bit too preoccupied with staring at you whilst you were organising something behind the counter because in the next moment, he locked eyes with the man he presumes to be your boss, whose heterochromatic eyes narrowed upon noticing the clown practically glued to one of the windows.
Pierrot slinked back into the shadows immediately. That was not good. He couldn't afford to be detected nor for your boss to turn you against him.
He needed to be more careful. He only had one shot at making a good impression on you.
Though it pained him immensely, he would have to come back to you later. He had things to sort out.
~☆~
"As soon as the last customers leave, close everything up and clean the place. We're closing early today." Your boss suddenly announced to you, causing you to pause your sweeping. He was a heavily tattooed man in his 40's with impeccable facial hair and streaks of grey in his long brown hair, which he kept in a ponytail. Aside from the tattoos, his mismatched eyes of blue and brown were another standout feature.
"Oh, uh, any special reason? Did something happen?" You asked, pressing your cheek against the shaft of the broom as you tilt your head curiously.
Your boss hesitated for a moment, crossing his burly arms as he looked away, appearing torn.
"I have an unexpected appointment. And since you're working alone today, I'd rather you didn't leave too late."
His eyes returned to your form, his brows pinching together in worry. But one look at the clock hanging over the café reminded him that he didn't have much time to spare.
"I really got to go now, can you take care of everything?" You nodded and stood up straight, no longer leaning on the broom.
"Yeah, of course! I've closed before, I know what to do." You reassured him, smiling widely.
He took off his apron and donned his jacket, already moving towards the door when he looked back towards you one last time.
"Call me if anything comes up, alright?" You gave him a thumbs up just as he finally left you alone in the establishment.
With a hum, you got back to work sweeping the floors. At some point, you think you hear a jingle of bells, ones that didn't sound like the door, but since you didn't hear any footsteps accompanying it, you chalk it up to an auditory hallucination.
Suddenly, everything goes pitch black.
You jolt a little as you look around yourself, bewildered by the blackout. You fished your phone out of your apron pocket to use its flashlight in order to navigate as you didn't want to bump into anything.
Making your way towards the window first, you checked to see if any other nearby buildings had been affected in the case of a widespread power outage, but the café seemed to be the only victim.
"Huh."
Remembering that there's a breaker by the counter, you walk over to the box on the wall, pop open the panel and flip over the tripped switch, restoring the light without issue.
It had been mildly unsettling, especially since you're all alone, but nothing that you haven't experienced before.
You were just about to finish up when the door actually chimed this time, signalling the entrance of somebody else.
"Sorry, we're close–!" Your words got caught in your throat when you saw the performer from earlier, but this time with blood oozing down his forehead. Alarmed, you ran up to him and took ahold of his hands, leading him to sit down by the counter.
"Jesus christ, what happened? You're bleeding!" You got out your phone again, your fingers hovering over the speed dial to call emergency services.
"Should I call 112? Do you know if you're concussed?"
The clown, who had been idly watching you fuss over him, suddenly tensed, shaking his head.
"No? You don't want me to call the ambulance? Or no to not knowing if you're concussed?"
The clown looked around the empty establishment, as if to make sure you two were really alone before leaning in to whisper.
"No need for any ambulance, my lord."
You blinked, lowering your phone reluctantly. Lord? Was this guy really method acting whilst bleeding from the head? Or did the blow make him think he's a real clown?
Instead of worrying about that, you signalled for him to wait a moment as you rushed back to the staff room for some first aid, grabbing antiseptic wipes, gauze pads and a roll of bandages just in case.
...
When you returned, it was his turn to blink owlishly as you set the things on the counter and motioned for him to lower his head. He obliged, his heart beating faster in response to the proximity.
You didn't seem to notice though, as you were too busy wiping off the blood, one of your lovely hands holding his jaw gently to steady him.
Up this close, it took all of his willpower to keep himself from blushing and his ever-present smile from wavering.
He couldn't afford to get caught, not now, not by you. He didn't want to scare you off, even if it felt stifling to be unable to emote since usually, masks aren't supposed to be able to move.
Under normal circumstances, he would have no problems keeping up appearances, but you make him feel things he hasn't felt in a long, long time. It was a small price to pay, however, if it meant he could be close to you like this.
The hand that was touching his jaw caught on the edge of his mask, making him tense once more.
"Could you take this off? The blood must've made a mess of your face beneath the mask as well, and I can't tend to the wound otherwise."
It was a reasonable request and he felt touched that you once again went out of your way to make sure he's okay. Which is why it pained him to lean away and leave your gentle grasp.
Even against his porcelain mask, he had felt the light, heavenly pressure of your tiny little fingers.
"Forgive me, my lord. I cannot show my face in public." Your shoulders slumped as your hands lowered, a bit confused but accepting.
"Alright. Is there... a reason as to why you're whispering?"
Ah.
He should probably explain himself.
"I can't be seen talking." Your adorable face scrunched up in confusion and it took a lot not to kiss you right then and there.
"May I ask why...?" He leaned in a bit closer, making a show of looking around himself again before holding his hand up to do a stage whisper.
"I'm the Pierrot, my lord. It is part of my role."
At this point, he had his elbows propped up on the counter as he held each side of his head, silently admiring your every microexpression.
You were like an open book, your thoughts present in every crease of your forehead, in the puzzled frown tugging at your luscious lips, in the way your eyes wandered up to the ceiling to think.
"So like a mime?" He tilted his head, wondering if he should take offense to that or not. But one look at you and any frustration with the mixup melted away. How could he ever get mad at that face?
"Not quite, but close enough." He conceded, yellow eyes lingering on your hands. They really were so small...
He could imagine those dainty fingers running through his silver hair, grabbing hard when he— "So you perform then? Do the pierrots out on the street with the flyers perform too?" This time, he couldn't help but chuckle fondly at your cluelessness.
"Indeed. The circus has but a small cast. We both perform and hand out flyers."
"Though I must say, I am the only Pierrot, my lord. The others are Jesters and... Harlequins." Just mentioning his rival soured his mood, the edges of his grin growing tight before he caught himself and let it return back to normal before you could notice.
"Huh. So do the others also have to be quiet?" He shook his head once more, one hand moving to trace idle circles on the counter with a finger.
"I am the only one who remains silent. Though I do make an exception when it's just the two of us." By now, the circles he was tracing had turned into hearts instead without him even realising it.
"Really? That doesn't sound fair. Was it your choice?" He let out another laugh, feeling his cheeks grow slightly warm.
So precious.
"It's the nature of my role, my lord. Remember? I quite enjoy it." You looked doubtful for a moment. He would have to convince you, it seems.
Halting the movements on the counter, he reached into his pocket to procure his special red ticket.
"I've brought you a token of my appreciation." The surprise on your face made his insides feel all gooey. It wasn't fair how easily you charmed him.
"Oh, uh, that's not necessary, dude, really. You don't owe me anything." Your reassurance meant nothing to him for Pierrot knew better. He owed you for every smile directed at him, every gentle touch, every spark of worry he induced in you. He owed you everything.
"Please, I insist. I'd be most delighted if you came to watch me, my lord." He watched you wrestle with yourself, the conflict apparent in your eyes before you let out a sigh and grabbed the ticket.
"Alright, alright. Might as well check out what all the fuss is about."
His grin grew wider.
"I assure you, I'll make you smile during my performance."
"Fine, fine, I'll go, but only if you promise to stay out of trouble. Last thing I want is to see you dead in a ditch."
The soft, fuzzy feeling in his chest grew hotter, spreading lower in his body. His savior, his salvation, not only saved him, not only tended to his wounds, but also has a vested interest in him? He felt lightheaded, giddy.
That was practically a confession.
It had to be.
Nobody ever really cares about people like him, like his family.
Anybody else would've tried to push him away already, but you're still here with him, actively caring about him. You weren't being polite, you couldn't be. Somebody polite wouldn't have risked getting into a fight over a stranger. Now Pierrot needed to show you how much he cares about you.
"Anything for you, my lord." Feeling particularly gutsy, he punctuated his declaration by taking a hold of your left hand and kissing the back of it, or the closest thing to it his toothy grin can manage.
His boldness paid off, your concern being overwritten by flustered stammering, your face unable to quite settle on how to react. He had hoped to bring a red tint to your cheeks, but he was unsure if it was even possible with your darker skintone.
Either way, he was satisfied.
He hadn't scared you off.
With an exasperated sigh, you half-heartedly shooed him away.
"C'mon, you jokester. We can't stay here for much longer, I gotta close up shop." He followed you outside, the bells in his costume jingling merrily in the quiet evening air.
It wasn't until you waved him goodbye and went on your way that he realised that you were leaving him. Again.
A yawning pit of dread opened up in his stomach.
He couldn't let you go home by yourself. What if something happened to you? That's unacceptable. But some nagging part of him knew that you wouldn't take too kindly to an offer of walking you home. You needed more time to get to know him, even if you did already confess, sort of. Kind of. Did you? He shook his head. Patience.
He just had to be... patient.
In the meantime, he walked several paces behind you, making sure to remain undetected.
When you eventually arrived at an apartment complex, Pierrot paused. He couldn't possibly take the main entrance, he didn't have access to the elevators or the staircase. Besides, it was too well-lit, too risky.
No, what he needed was a different entrance. Walking around the building, he eventually noticed a fire exit.
Trying the handle to the door, he was surprised to find that it opened up.
On one hand, that made things significantly easier for him, on the other...
His darling wasn't safe.
Any ill-intentioned stranger could so very easily break inside.
With a small frown, he paced a bit in front of the fire exit, wanting nothing more than to stay by your side all night where he could guarantee your safety. But what little romantic experience he had prior had taught him that he couldn't just strong-arm his way into your life and expect you to be okay with it. Atleast not on the first day, even if it has felt like a lifetime already. He had to wait until you fell asleep first.
And wait he did. He waited until the moon was high up in the sky before eventually trying his luck, sneaking up the steps of the staircase, checking the name of every door on every floor systematically until he stumbled upon yours. When he didn't hear any noise coming from the other side, he gently tried the door handle, though this time he was praying that it wouldn't be as easy as finding the door to the fire exit unlocked.
His heart sank when it opened.
How could his darling be so careless with his own safety? He closed the door quietly behind him before entering the apartment proper, still able to see even in the dark.
Checking his immediate surroundings, he noticed keys hung up on the wall next to the door, which also wasn't very safe. Any lowlife could just steal them.
What a reckless, reckless boy.
Amidst his internal scolding, he kept looking around the cramped space, noting a small kitchenette and two different doors. The door closest to the front door turned out to be the bathroom, so behind the second door must be where you were sleeping.
Instead of rushing ahead, he wanted to learn more about you.
The fridge door had a significant amount of papers hanging from it, some sort of schedule, some doctors appointments notice, a shopping list and a list of how to take care of your apartment.
Very meticulous.
The papers on the kitchen counter were more overflowing, some old rent bills (but no final notices), other appointments, but nothing else that stood out to him.
Beneath the papers were some pill bottles, but he didn't recognize them.
Lisdexamfetamine? Bupropion? What are these for?
Were you sick? Terminally ill?
Is that why you were so ready to throw yourself in danger? Because you didn't have long to live?
"..."
No, no, he's overreacting. He needed to calm down. He knew a Doctor, he could always ask him what those are for. Maybe he could even heal you!
Putting down the pill bottles quietly, he shifted focus towards the last remaining door. Opening it, he was met by not a bedroom, but a living room.
A simple desk with a computer, a WiFi router and an office chair, a black suitcase standing next to the same wall, a window with the blinds closed and a large couch.
And on that couch was a familiar mop of dark hair slumbering beneath the covers.
Pierrot blinked once. Then twice. Then thrice.
Where's the bed?
Even him, a clown that is a part of a travelling circus, had a bed.
He had checked every corner of the room, there was no other door to lead to a proper bedroom.
Was this it? Was this all his poor, poor boy could afford? To live in such spartan conditions, surrounded by naked white walls and no belongings that spoke of who he was as an individual?
No pictures, no posters, no random trinkets, nothing? Only furniture?
Carefully, Pierrot checked the closets next to the door. All he found were clothes.
Closing the closets, he slowly walked over to the large couch and took a seat on the opposite side, looking over your sleeping form with a grim expression.
Was this... all you had to look forward to when you came home?
Some part of him desperately hoped that you had just recently moved in, but then remembered the dates of the papers on your kitchen counter.
The dust permeating many of the surfaces, including the thick layer on your suitcase, also indicated otherwise.
"What a cruel, cruel world... to make a kind, benevolent soul like you suffer like this..." He whispered quietly, leaning over the couch to carefully pet your head. You lightly stirred but thankfully remained asleep.
"Don't you worry, my love, I'll save you. I'll show you the meaning of a real home."
With a light peck to your forehead, Pierrot stood up and left the apartment.
He knew what he had to do tomorrow.