Chapter Text
[Name] awakes to the sound of birds chirping, people chatting, and cars honking. He groans softly as he twists and turns, the hold of sleep still trying to grasp him. He gets up anyways, yawning softly as he stretches his limbs. He threads his fingers through his [h/c] hair as he lifts himself from his bedside, moving aimlessly towards the bathroom.
The bathroom mirror greeted him with a reflection that looked almost too calm. He studied it for a moment, before slapping his cheeks softly, smiling into the reflection. He splashed water on his face, letting the coolness sharpen his senses, and ran a hand through his hair again, smoothing it down with quiet care.
He walked towards the kitchen, pouring himself a small cup of tea from the kettle he had warmed up. He sighed slowly as the tea warmed up his body. How cozy. He looked up at his clock, noticing it was almost time to head to work.
It was a small job—just a barista at a café. But it was all he needed. It paid the rent, kept food on the table, and left a little extra for the occasional thing that caught his eye.
He couldn’t complain.
“Time to start the day.” He mumbles softly as he goes to get out of his sleepwear and into something more appropriate.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[Name] steps along the sidewalk, earbuds plugged in, listening to the soft music in his ears. The streets were packed, friends walking and laughing, street vendors and shops open for people to look.
[Name] smiled softly, taking it all in.
then—
crunch.
“huh?”
[Name] pauses his music and reaches down to grab the paper beneath his feet.
“THE FREAK CIRCUS OF HORRORS — DON'T MISS OUT!”
“How peculiar.” He mutters under his breath; he’s seen some of these flyers scattered around... With the recent winds, they almost looked like a flock of birds drifting through the sky.
Not wanting to litter, he carefully folds up the paper and puts it into his bag, continuing on his way. Yet, another thing caught his attention.
“Hey! Get out of our town, freak!!”
The sound of a man yelling pierces the air. [Name] looks around, seeing a growing crowd. He peps up his speed, curious on what the fuss is about. A man stands over someone on the ground, flyers scattered around them like fallen feathers.
The figure… dressed like a clown
“Ever since you guys showed up here, people have been going missing! Go back to wherever you came from!”
[Name]’s chest tightens. Now this just won’t do.
He can’t stand by and let this continue. He can’t even begin to imagine how humiliating this must be—surrounded, shouted at, treated like something less than human.
[Name] pushes through the crowd, quickly getting in front of the man. “That’s enough! You can’t treat people like that!” [Name] raised his voice, trying to scare the man off.
“Why are you defending them! Open your damn eyes!” The man doesn’t let up, but [Name] is far too angry to back down, “Please back away sir, I do not want to alert the authorities.”
“This man is just doing his job, so leave him alone.” He gets up in the man’s face, poking at his chest. The man seemed stunned by [Name]’s actions before clicking his tongue, “tch, I hope they take you too!” He shouts before stomping away. And with him, the crowd disperses.
[Name] sighs, fixing his bag back onto his shoulder, “What a rude man.” He grumbles before turning back to the clown on the ground, expression softening.
“I’m so sorry that happened, here, let me help you up!” [Name] offers his hand towards the clown. He takes note that the clown stares for a moment before hesitantly taking it. ‘They’ve been ridiculed ever since they got here, it’s no wonder they don’t trust others.’
As the clown gets up on his feet, [Name] realizes just how tall the man is. ‘His parents must’ve fed him well..’ his brain uselessly supplies before his attention shifts towards the mark on his cheek. “Oh…Here I think I have something for that.” [Name] says as he reaches into his bag.
He pulls out a small bandage and gently ushers the clown closer. The clown leans in as [Name] carefully applies the bandage.
“Some people are just plain rude,” He murmurs, “best to keep away from them before they cause a ruckus.”
The clown didn’t say anything, but his mask (or what [Name] assumes is a mask) holds a smile. The small bells on his hat jingle softly as he nods.
“Well, I have to go, I’d rather not be late for work. Take care of yourself, okay?” [Name] waves with a smile as he continues his way. He notices the clown stays there for a moment before he turns away.
[Name]’s smile grows slightly, glad he was able to help someone.
He stares at his watch for a moment before seeing the cafe coming into view, he sighs in relief ‘right on time.’
.
.
.
.
.
.
As [Name] enters the “EMPLOYEES ONLY” door, he nearly bumps into his boss. “Right on time, [Name], it was just starting to get crowded.” He says as he finishes an order. “Apologies, I got too comfortable." [Name] whines softly, ‘I’d still be in bed if I didn’t have a job to be honest..’
The man gives a small huff of amusement, “I know what you mean. But, just start as soon as you can. Carol’s running late and I’m done covering her shift.” he says as [Name] clocks in, tying his apron neatly.
‘It’s unusual for Carol to be late… maybe she’s sick. It’s been cold lately…’
He nods as he’s instructed to begin handing out orders.
The day continues normally—orders, small talk, polite smiles.
But whispers drift through the café.
Disappearances.
[Name] continues on with his day, giving out orders and making small talk with the customers. He hears the initial whispers of the disappearances but chooses to ignore them for now. He prays silently in his mind that wherever those poor people are, that they're okay and safe.
As he walks away from another table, he notices a shadow in the window, he whips his head but it's already gone. ‘Hm..maybe it's just my imagination.’ [Name] thinks as he goes to pick up the next order.
He sees the boss taking off flyers from the windows with a tight lip, “[Name], if you see any flyers, get rid of them, don't let anyone hand them out in here.” [Name] gives a small salute in response before getting closer to speak with him.
“Don't you think people are being a bit too rude to them?” [Name] asks, holding the serving tray close to his chest. “It’s the way they act that freaks people out.” The man replied, picking up a few flyers on the nearby table.
“I get that, but they're just doing their jobs.” [Name] mumbles as he helps stack up flyers and sets them down neatly near the door. “You’re just too kind, [Name].” the boss says before going back into storage.
[Name] sighs before getting back to work, grabbing a coffee order and taking it to the respective customer.
“Here is your coffee, sir. I apologize for the wait.” [Name] spoke softly, taking in the man’s appearance.
“It’s not trouble at all.” Something seemed…off about him. His smile seemed practiced, fake.
“It is quite cold outside.” “I know what you mean, and it's windy too.”
And that was it. The end of the conversation.
[Name] found it slightly strange. Most customers–especially the regulars– were always so talkative, but, everyone is different in the end.
So, [Name] treated him like any other customer.
By the end of the shift, [Name] finished mopping down the floor, pausing to look around in quiet satisfaction. He reached into his pocket, intending to count the tips he had earned.
Instead,
A pink ticket.
He blinked,
Right..That strange man.
He remembered how the strange man had asked him weird questions and gave him the ticket, inviting him to the circus.
‘I haven’t been to a circus since I was a child..maybe I should go?’ [Name] thinks, until his thoughts are cut off from the sound of a jingle. “huh?” [Name] looks around, nothing. His mind is playing tricks on him again.
As [Name] was about to head into the back to grab his things and close the cafe, the lights went out. [Name] gasps softly as the room is plunged into darkness.
“Jeez…” he mumbles under his breath, hands feeling around, making his way blindly towards the cupboard that holds a flashlight. He grabs it and flicks it on, looking around the cafe. “Maybe it’s the breaker.”
[Name] makes his way towards it, turning it back on with a click. The lights flicker for a moment before illuminating the cafe once more.
jingle!
‘A bell again? Maybe it isn't in my mind anymore..’
[Name] hears a knock on the cafe door. He flinched at the sudden noise but quickly making his way towards the entrance.
“I’m sorry, we're clo–”
[Name] finds himself face-to-face (or more specifically chest-to-face) with the same clown from earlier that day. “Oh, it's you!” The clown's mask spreads into a wide smile, yellow eyes looking down at him. He slowly reaches behind [Name]’s ear, and reveals a flower. Presenting it with a small flourish.
“Oh, thank you, it's lovely.” [Name] speaks softly, taking it from the clown's large hands and holding it close. The rose has a distinct smell, almost metallic. Maybe that's just the paint, it is still a bit wet.
[Name] smiles up at the clown, but his expression quickly shifts as he notices the blood dripping from his forehead. Panic rises instantly.
“You’re bleeding again!”
He grabs the clown’s hand, ushering him to sit down. Then he rushes into the café, heading straight for the first aid kit in the back to grab antiseptic and a cloth.
When he returns, he finds the clown sitting quietly, kicking his feet softly. [Name] might’ve found the gesture cute if he wasn’t so worried.
“Here, sit still please.”
He can feel it—the clown’s gaze fixed on him, unmoving.
“So…” [Name] starts, wringing out the cloth. “Can you not talk? Or is it part of the act?”
The clown looks around cautiously before leaning in slightly. “I cannot be seen talking.”
Oh. Wow. Tall—and a deep voice.
“Ah, so it is just a part of your act.” “Yes, my lord. I sincerely appreciate your help.” The clown did an eccentric bow, the bells on his hat ringing with his movements.
“I’m the Pierrot, it's truly an honor to meet you!”
[Name] giggles softly at the dramatic introduction before returning a smaller bow, “It’s nice to meet you, Pierrot! I’m [Name].”
[Name] then looks at Pierrot up and down, analyzing him. It’s true he hasn't been to a circus since he was little, it was a traditional one, showcasing the different clowns back in their previous times. “Not to be rude or anything, but you don't resemble one.” Pierrot hummed in agreement, “Indeed, my lord. We were required to modernize my attire. But I can assure you my role is unchanged.” ah, that makes a bit more sense.
“People have been a bit rough with you all, huh?” [Name] asks. He hadn’t meant to pry, but he found it hard to ignore how cruel people could be.
“I suppose we appear uncanny, and that tends to unsettle people,” Pierrot explains. “It is a circus of horrors, after all.”
“Do the Pierrots on the street perform too?” [Name] asked, people have been going on and on about how twisted and evil they are, but they seem normal. At least he can ask questions to one of the performers.
“Ah, our circus has a small cast, we both perform and hand out flyers. Although I am the only Pierrot, my lord. The others are Jesters and..Herlequins”
[Name] notices how Pierrot’s mood seemed to sour mentioning this "harlequin." But he seemed more enraptured by the fact he was the only Pierrot.
“You’re very talented.”
“P–pardon me, my lord? I don’t think I understand.”
“You pass out flyers but also perform,” [Name] explains gently. “It just shows how confident you are in your skills. It’s… nice.”
Pierrot pauses before letting out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to his mouth. A faint pink hue spreads across his mask.
“Thank you, my lord. You are very kind.”
“Are the other performers quiet like you?” “No my lord, I am the only one who remains silent. Although, I do make an exception when it’s just the two of us.” [Name] gives a small huff of amusement, putting a hand on his chest dramatically, “So I’m special? Don't worry, your secret’s safe with me.” [Name] winks sneakily.
Pierrot stills for a moment, as if processing that, before speaking again.
“Ah… I would like to give you a token of my appreciation.”
He reaches into his attire and produces a red ticket, holding it out carefully.
[Name] immediately raises his hands, waving them off.
“Oh, it’s nothing, really! I already have a ticket.”
Pierrot pauses. “…You already have one?” There’s a slight shift in his tone—subtle, but noticeable.
“May I see it?” “oh, sure.”
[Name] places the pink ticket into his black-gloved hand, watching as Pierrot’s expression shifts—just for a moment—into something like horror.
Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. Pierrot moves his hand over the ticket.
And when he pulls it away—It’s red.
[Name]’s eyes light up. “Oh—!”
He looks at it in awe, completely taken in by the trick, causing Pierrot to let out a quiet chuckle at his innocent reaction.
“Was there something wrong with the ticket?” “Yes, my lord. You wouldn’t be allowed in with it. It was a counterfeit.”
[Name] pouts slightly.
He was just trying to be polite—and that strange man tried to rip him off?
How rude.
“I assure you, I’ll make you smile during my performance.” Pierrot said once more, getting closer. [Name] smiles, "I'll look forward to it.” He then looks down at his watch, seeing the time pass by quickly. “I’m sorry to cut out conversation short, but I need to close up tonight.”
“I understand. I had hoped to arrive earlier but I didn’t want to cause any problems, my lord.” Pierrot says, smile slightly faltering but smiling nonetheless. [Name] grabs his keys from his pocket, locking the door. He turns around to be met with Pierrot, now face-to-face.
‘Getting such a close up view of him, I can sort of see why people say they're unsettling..’ The thought flickers through his mind—but it doesn’t linger.
Before he can say anything, Pierrot gently takes his hand, and presses a soft kiss to the back of his palm.
“Have a good night, my lord.”
[Name]’s cheeks flush immediately, caught off guard by the gesture. U-um… good night, Pierrot.”
He gives a small wave before turning and heading down the street, passing beneath the glow of each streetlight.
.
.
.
.
.
.
“Mrow..” A small meow breaks the quiet.
“Oh you poor thing.” [Name] coos, glancing down a dark alleyway. He crouches slightly, holding out his hand. The kitten emerges slowly, sniffing his fingers before pressing into his palm with a soft purr. Carefully, [Name] grabs it softly by its scruff, bringing it close against his chest, and continues walking. “Let's get you somewhere warm.”
“Glad my shift starts later tomorrow, so I get to hang out with you in the morning.” [Name] speaks out loud, as if the kitten in his arms can respond to him.
As [name] finally makes it to his apartment, he sets the kitten down on the floor, letting it roam around and letting it explore its surroundings. He moves towards the kitchen where his calendar is posted up on the wall. Grabbing a pen, he adds ‘cat food’ and ‘formula’ to the box for tomorrow.
He then opens the fridge, pulling out a small carton of milk and a bowl. He moves back towards his room, where the kitten is sniffing around. He places the bowl in front of the squirming feline, watching closely.
For a moment, it hesitates. Then–it drinks.
It drinks eagerly and desperately. [Name]’s expression softens. “..Easy there,” he whispers, almost instinctively.
The kitten doesn't slow down. As it drinks, his gaze drifts–taking in the small details he hadn't fully processed before when he first found it.
It’s ear, bent, torn slightly at the edge.
It’s body, scratched, dirt clinging to its matted fur.
Too thin. Too small.
His chest tightens.
“...You really didn’t stand a chance out there, did you.” His voice is quiet, gentle.
He crouches slightly, resting his chin against his palm as he continues watching it drink. “People can be so cruel.” The words almost come out like a whisper.
He thinks of the shouting earlier. The crowd. The way people looked at Pierrot differently, as if that alone was enough reason to hurt him.
His fingers curled slightly. “I don't get it.”
A pause. “...But I’m glad I found you.”
The kitten continues drinking, unaware, uncaring. Safe.
At least for now.
[Name] smiles faintly, reaching out to gently brush his fingers along its back, careful to not startle it.
“...I think everyone just needs a little kindness sometimes,” he murmurs. “Even if they don't realize it.”
The kitten finishes drinking, slowing down as the initial urgency fades. [Name] chuckoles, “better?” he asks, but the kitten doesn’t respond, just blinks slowly and curls slightly into itself.
He gently grabs the empty bowl and takes it to the kitchen, moving through his routine with practiced ease: washing his hands, changing into something more comfortable, tidying small things along the way without really thinking about it.
The kitty stays close following him like a baby duck.
When he finally makes his way to his bed, he pulls back the covers, the familiar weight of his blanket awaiting him.
He pauses for a moment, glancing down at the small creature in his arms. “You can stay.” He says as he places the kitten carefully on top of the weighted blanket. It settles slowly, curling into the fabric, its small body sinking slightly into the comforting pressure.
He exhales softly, sliding into bed beside it and grabbing the remote on his bedside table, turning on something for background noise.
He sits there for a while, softly brushing through the kitten’s–now clean–fur. His eyes begin to grow heavy. His sleepy gaze moves lazily across the room and stops.
The rose, resting on his desk.
He must’ve set it down without thinking earlier.
Even from here, it stands out.
His eyes soften. Pierrot.
The memory flickers, the bells, the bow, the warmth of his hand.
The soft kiss against his palm.
[Name]’s cheeks warm faintly at the thought. “He was nice.” He lets out one last quiet breath, eyes growing heavy as the sounds around him blur together. And slowly he falls asleep.
.
.
.
.
.
.
“Get out of our town, freak!!”
The man’s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the air and catching the attention of other humans.
Pierrot remained where he had fallen, flyers scattered around him. A crowd began to form, watching with curious eyes. Voices overlapped, whispers loud. Accusations. Fear. Disgust.
It was familiar to him.
He didn't respond. He didn’t move. That was what he was supposed to do.
Humans enjoy pain. That's why our circus works so well–
“That’s enough! You can't treat people like that!”
Huh?
Pierrot’s attention shifted.
Not to the man towering over him. But to the one who stepped in between them.
He was..unremarkable.
At first glance. Not exaggerated movements. No raised posture. No outward display of strength. And yet, he placed himself there anyway.
Pierrot studied him. The way his voice waved, just barely. The tension in his shoulders. The shaking in his hands.
He could tell he was nervous. But...he did not step down.
Most people avoided them on the streets. Others watched from a distance, whispering behind their hands. Some chose cruelty. But this man stepped closer.
Pierrot watched the exchange unfold in silence.
When the man finally left and the crowd dispersed, silence returned. He looked up to see the stranger turn back to him, expression softened now, concern evident in the way his brows knit together.
His (e/c) eyes. His (h/c) hair. Beautiful (s/c) skin. Pierrot took in everything about his appearance.
“I’m so sorry that happened…here, let me help you up!”
A hand extended toward him, open, waiting.
Help him? Help him?
Pierrot stared before taking it.
Warm.
He allowed himself to be tended to. The pads of those fingers felt so soft.
Pierrot’s gaze never left him, unblinking, attentive to every movement. The way his voice softened without effort, the way his hands placed that bandage.
The way he spoke was so…genuine.
Pierrot watches as [Name] turned and walked away with a small wave, his figure slipping past people on the busy street. Every motion [Name] made was captivating. The way his shoulders relaxed as he walked, the tilt of his head as he observed the street, the soft hum of his voice as he listened to his songs. All so natural.
Pierrot memorized it all.
As [Name] got further away. He couldn’t help but follow.
He watched as [Name] walked into the cafe, getting ready for work. Pierrot slowed, crouching slightly, blending into the shadows. He watched as [Name] moved behind the counter. He observed how easily customers gravitated toward him, drawn by that quiet warmth like a moth to a flame.
A small laugh from [Name] reached him even through the glass. It was effortless, genuine, the kind that made people lean in closer. Pierrot’s chest tightened. That smile–it was almost too much to bear. It was too beautiful. Too perfect. And yet, he gave it out effortlessly to everyone around him. A twist in his gut began to grow.
The way [Name] turned any mundane order into small exchanges of care, fascinated him. He wanted more.
He wanted that smile. That warmth. He wanted it.
.
.
.
.
.
.
As [Name] walks away, Pierrot’s hand moves to his chest, feeling his heart beat faster by the second.
He was so precious. So kind and gentle.
He wasn’t like any of the other humans their circus had encountered.
He even helped him once more and promised to come see his performance!
But.. that pink ticket. Pierrot’s smile faltered slightly. His Lord wouldn’t be harmed as long as he was here. He’d keep him safe now. He won’t let anything or anyone harm him.
As quiet as he could, he jumped atop of the cafe building, jumping silently and crawling slowly across buildings, following [Name] from a distance.
.
.
.
“Ah…my lord..” Pierrot mutters as he moves atop [Name]’s sleeping figure. “Such beauty, even when asleep..” His mask cracks a smile, bells jingling softly as he leans in closer.
“You’re so gentle, even taking in a stray from off the street. I can’t help but marvel at your kindness.” His gloved hand lifted, hovering for a moment before softly cupping [Name]’s cheek. So warm.
“So unaware…so defenseless.." he whispered.
His thumb brushed lightly against his skin, slow and calm. “I want to know you..your routines, your preferences, everything.” He leaned closer, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath.
“I thought I was just imagining you, but no..” A blush creeps onto Pierrot’s mask, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness. “You’re real..”
“I want you..” The words lingered, “...no…I need you.”
“You are mine to protect now…my lord.” His voice dropped into something softer, taking a strand of [Name]’s hair between his fingers.
“I will not allow harm to come to you. Not from them..not from anyone.” Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his forehead gently against [Name]’s. “I will make you mine…whatever it takes.”
After a long moment, Pierrot finally pulled away. Slowly making his way back towards the balcony door. Without a sound, he slid it open and closed it with caution.
And as quietly as he came–he disappeared into the night.