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It had been the same as it always has been. Setting up the circus, getting performances ready, handing out flyers in the street, tormenting Pierrot. Not once was the routine changed in Harlequin’s life.
The street was bustling, he was handing out flyers like usual, when a barista walked by him. They were pretty basic in his eyes, still wearing the white shirt and black trousers from their work uniform. He looked at them, he asked if they had a pink ticket… it was red…
Perfect.
He offered them a green one, which was quickly voided by Pierrot, and from the corner of his eye he saw them retreating. Curious. They had Pierrot’s favour. They were special to Pierrot, which meant he had a new reason to get under his skin.
But they talked. He had gotten a name, he had given you a heart pin, had tried giving you another green ticket and even had you alone in a tent, which got him stabbed by Pierrot’s throwing knives.
He had followed Pierrot to your apartment. What was he doing? Why did he go to this extent for a human? Purely to spite Pierrot? Right, that had to be it. Because it would be foolish to be in love. He knew what happened last time.
So… why did he let his guard down? Why did he think about you to the point that a bottle hit and smashed him square in the head. By the time he reacted, others threw things too. But he wasn’t allowed to get angry. Not to humans, that was a liability. When another bottle flew, he caught it, looking in the direction of where it came.
“Harlequin, how is your head?” The voice of the Jester had asked, he himself had barely noticed the fresh blood that spilled from a wound on the top of his forehead. He touched it and wipes, hoping that was enough to fool others.
He looked back at the other, “I’m perfectly fine. Just some troublesome drunkards throwing their rubbish.” He had brushed it off. He had changed the subject to the other people, and he went to return to what he was doing.
“Harlequin,” Jester’s voice rang behind him, the tone scolding but light, like a worried mother, “Go to The Doctor, your forehead is bleeding and you’re not usually so caught off guard.” Harlequin couldn’t protest, the flyers had been plucked from him and there was already a hand shoving him back towards the circus.
So he begrudgingly walked back, playing it off like it was nothing. He shuffled his way to the Doctor, getting into the medical tent. “What happened this- Oh, Harlequin?” The Doctor spoke. He knew how unusual it was for him to be there instead of Pierrot, but he didn’t like how that was the first assumption.
He sat down in a chair, thinking. I wonder if [Y\N] has left for their lunch break yet. They’re probably talking to Pierrot right now, his thoughts spoke. His thoughts drifted. He didn’t even notice Doctor hovering over him.
“Harlequin?” His eyes glided to the Doctors, who was holding things to treat his wounds. He sighed as the doctor started working on them, “I’m surprised, you’re not usually so careless. Let alone in here for an actual injury. Usually, you’re with me to test my ‘medicines’.”
“Got a little… distracted, that’s all. Bastards caught me when I was thinking and hit me point blank.” He scoffed, a small roll of the eyes dismissing what had happened.
“What were you thinking about?” The doctor had asked, cleaning the blood away. Harlequin knew the truth of his thoughts, but he didn’t wish for others to know. He liked the air of mystery he gives, especially not being an open book for the world to pick at.
“Don’t you find it silly? Pierrot’s admiration for a human that won’t be able to know what he truly is. It’s pitiful, truly.” His words were followed by a chuckle, a mocking tone to hide his own feelings. He was just using you to get to Pierrot anyway.
The Doctor wrapped his head, making sure it was staying put on his head. “Don’t pick on him and his crush, I know you’ve been curious too. You’ve been watching them from a far.”
He didn’t like being called out, especially since it was pulling out his thoughts. But he was right. He had brought this upon himself.
He had let his guard down. For curiosity. For a human. When he knew how tragically it ended last time.
He was a fool for letting his guard down, and he got hurt.