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If there was one word to describe Pierrot, it would be needy.
Clawing and grasping any part of you within reach- there was no doubt, that if given the chance, he'd crack open your ribs and nestle himself deep. For so much speak about not wanting to hurt, he had a strange way of doing so regardless. A careless slip of teeth catching your lips, too tight of a hold, and then blood would flow freely.
" I'm so sorry- I hadn't.. I didn't... " It was a downwards spiral, as he desperately sobbed and wept for you to not go. You'd stand there, hands limp at your side as he broke apart over something that had felt so distant. The metallic taste was savoury, a far cry from the sweet confectionary that seemed impossible to escape from; the pain, pleasant in it's sharpness. Though it made you question your sanity, or more accurately what was left of it, ultimately it would've been welcomed more.
Pierrot wouldn't allow such a thing, though. If you enjoyed something he seemed to take it from you, knowingly or not.
-He never let you have anything.