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No matter how much you act kind towards people, there is always that nagging thought behind your head that always doubting your own kindness. It's like all these kindness are just a mere act that you weren't supposed to done to fool others.
No.
Today you just helped that one guy in clown attire from getting any more hurting. Surely you've done it out of kindness and not pity. Let alone asking for something in return... Now you sound arrogant towards those who got oppressed. Your mind always thinking of the reason and excuse to do something kind out of nowhere that you doubt all your kind effort are just a mere act to get what you want. That surely doesn't sound very kind. Are you even a good person? You always hesitant to answer one simple word "yes".
Think, what else something special happened today? You helped that pierrot guy before work, and at work you... You barely remember the things that is outside of your routine. Seems like the only time you feel helpful outside of work is just for treating a poor unfortunate soul that got into a bad situation at the bad time. That poor guy, still wearing his mask despite bleeding out of it. Now that you've imagined his face again, you wonder again on how did he made his mask look so expressive.
Now, now, what else can you think of to distract yourself right now from scratching your forearm? Think... Think... Oh does it matter? You could just lay on this hard floor without thinking anything just to stop scratching. You can always just stop. It hurts so badly now so surely you would stop now, right? You hate pain after all. Human hates those touches that doesn't comfort them, surely.
You are in pain. That's a very human trait, of course. So why do you still hardly consider yourself to be the same as human?
Is it the lack of sympathy you sometime lacks of for someone else?
Might be it. You always got into a fight with your friends and family despite feeling sorry. You tell yourself that you feel guilty after all those fights because you know you are also the reason why it happened. Your insensitivity is what turn you into a jerk.
But even after apologizing and trying to forgive them, you still found yourself starting another fight again with them and hating them. Gosh, the feeling of hatred feels so sickening and you hate how ugly your soul is for hating someone that you started to channeling all those hatred towards yourself instead just to make yourself feel like you're the better person in the situation when it doesn't change a single thing. Hating yourself doesn't make you any better person.
Sratch
Ow... You hissed. Damn you yourself, why did you just scratch yourself again? You thought you were over this by now. Don't you dare making excuse that your hand move on it's own to hurt yourself.
You have no one but yourself to blame.
You know that, yet you can never stop to pointing finger towards someone if not you. Because you know it's pointless to blame someone else for your own doing towards yourself. You keep on acting as if your body is it's own person just so you can abuse it to satisfy your hatred. It's stupid and pointless. Why are you still doing this since you were a kid? You sure as hell that you don't have DID.
So.
Bump
Stop.
Bump
Acting.
Bump
Like.
Bump
You.
Bump
Do.
You bump the side of your head lightly against the cold floor. It's not like you can actually hurt yourself until you die purposely. You still fear death. Which you thought was pathetic. Then what's the point of all these suicidal behavior if you are too scared to die. Or maybe that is a good thing. Which it is a good thing to be afraid of death. But man, how much you hate how human you do sometimes when you are questioning your own humanity at this situation.
You look down on your hands. One hand still clinging to the other red forearm. It now has red and purple shade on it. Yet they still not even bleeding. What pain were you complaining about? Why don't the next time you try to relapse, you use an actual object that can actually punish you?
Sigh... It sounds cringer when it's coming from your own mind.
Why did you suddenly get into a mental breakdown again? You don't even exactly remember the reason. But surely you found another excuse to try to "teach yourself a lesson". You rolled until your back is against the hard floor. Staring blankly on the ceiling. Thinking. Or maybe not. Just staring on the ceiling until your vision got darker. And so you have fallen into a slumber on the damned floor.
A gloved sharp clawed hand open the balcony's window as the intruder step inside. Both "person" inside the room are unaware of the other's presence. At least until the intruder, Pierrot, spotted your unconciuous body on the floor. He almost let his guard down and made bell noise if he wasn't so careful. But with enough effort, he finally reached your vulnerable body and check on your chest whether or not if you're still breathing.
Feeling relieved from his anxiety, he finally step back to check your whole body if whether or not there are any wound he need to check. Your hand seem to still holding each other close. You must be feeling cold on that hard and sad floor. "Why is this human on the floor if they're not hurt?", Pierrot thought to himself. But alas, he's just a "visitor" here, he can't actually ask you for the reason yourself. But for now, as a respectful visitor, he would help put you back up on your much comfy bed. He knows it's supposed to be the host treat their guest, but he isn't really a guest and he doesn't mind helping you in return when you need it. Whatever it is as well. You can always just call out his name and he will come ready to serve you. Oh how he wish to hear your voice right now. But that would be inconvenience for a time like this, no?
Shaking his own desired wish aside, he finally put you back on your bed. There. Should be much comfier than the cold floor. He still wonders why would you even choose to sleep there if you can just lay on something better. He even thought that maybe it would be even much better and comfier for you to sleep with him on your side-No. Not now, that's too soon Pierrot. He mentally smack himself.
But then again... He can still just watch you and giving you your space... So now he just stares at your sleeping form for like 10 cm or whatever. Alright maybe a space is an exaggeration to how close he is actually right now. You look too beautiful to miss out. Especially with how red your cheeks are...?
Were you crying?
Pierrot stares at your post crying face while the voices inside his head is running wild.
What happened to you? Who made you cry? Did they also hurt you? How could he let this happen to his savior?
The screen behind him is still playing. And despite hearing his voice louder, the noise starting to upset him too. He planned to let it on to make his movement less detected by the tv mumbling noises. But change of plan, he turned off the tv. Screw it if his bells can be heard jingles across the room following his movement. After the silent atmosphere is back, he look back at you again. Observing your face with a sharp stare.
He carefully places his point finger awkwardly against your closed eyelids and wipes the invisible tears. It's sticky around the area that got touched by your dried tears. Then as if naturally, gently, he places his thumb and gently wipes your eyelids again but without the previous awkwardness. You barely woken up by the gesture. His dear must've been very tired, he thought.
"My dear, how shall I help you ease your mind?", he whispers. His eyes now trails down towards your arm that already got colored with purple shade of pain. "Are you feeling itchy my dear?", he tries to convince himself. But he knew that his dear wouldn't hurt themselves for something like this.
"No", he still studies your arm before letting it go. "You know it's alright if you just tell who made you do this", he whispers closely towards your face. Wiping your invisible tear trails on your cheek warm cheek. "I could take care of them. Aaallll of your problems."
He leans closer again until his mask touches your forehead. "Just call out my name with your sweet voice, my dear. And I shall come as you command.", he breathed out to try match your breathing. "And always stay close to me, dear.", his hold starting to shaking as he got rid of the shame to lean closer and capture your lips. One way to "comfort" you. Only for you to recicoperate it with a punch on his chest.
The hit caught him off guard, even if it's nothing compared to his bigger body. But the shock hits harder when you caught him on his act. Oh has he gotten too far already? He quickly puts his palm against your trembling lips as to not let you wakes up the whole apartment with your scream. He tries to calm you down, but surprisingly, you followed him quickly and stayed silent.
"I'm very sorry my dear, I didn't mean to wake you up, I-"
You pull his hand away from covering your mouth as you quickly asked, "Are you here to kill me?". There was still fear in your eyes despite your past death threat towards yourself.
"Just kill me quickly, please. I don't care what you do to my corpse just..."
"No no no I'm not going to kill you!", he pathetically try to convince you as if that isn't the only thing you are fearing in this situation. "I swear, my dear. I just... Want to check on you!", that surely doesn't convince you at all.
He look down at you like a sad kicked puppy despite him having the upper hand here. Even if you survive, you're sure the police wouldn't believe your story about a clown sneaked into your apartment and harassed you. And if you're unluckier than you know you already are, this big guy might just hurt you in any way you wouldn't know. Even when his thumb are still trying to comfort you by padding your cheek. You can even feel his claws. and it gives no real comfort or whatsoever.
"I was just thinking of dying...", your voice cracked and sounds tired. "Yet I feel so scared right now with death touching me like this.", It's nothing poetical what you're saying, but damn the irony feels annoying to acknowledge. You never leave his pathetic eyes as he finally lets you go now that you are calmer. Only to trapped you into a big embrace. Being hugged by death might sounds more poetic. Or maybe not. Man I don't know what makes death sounds poetic.
"I was worried when I saw you lying on the floor", he confessed. At least that's half of the truth of what happened tonight. "So I thought my dear, you would be more comfortable on this bed.", he awkwardly tries to sooth you as he trails the back of your head and pat them.
"And kiss me when I was unconcious?", Pierrot tensed again when you point out one of the problem he had done. He can't take back what he had done.
"I wouldn't do what you don't want my dear!", he panicked. You would've raise your eyebrow at that if only you're not feeling so tired right now. You just want to get this over with and being left alone. Alive or dead. Even if you still don't want to actually die. You sighed.
You both stayed for awhile in this reluctant one sided hug. You stare at your ceiling. Thinking of nothing specific. Maybe you're thinking of when will Pierrot change his mind and has his way on you, but your mind doesn't really want to acknowledge that thought and gone blank instead. You will play the complying victim for a little while until he's bored.
You hear the bells ringing as Pierrot pulls away a little to look you in the face again. You barely make a different expression, while his is still guilty. "Dear.", he calls carefully. "Why... Why did you do this?", his hand slowly touches your arm where the purple still sitting there and fading away, already forgotten by you. Seems like the stalker actually concerned your life.
You don't give an answer straightaway. Pretending to think of the answer despite knowing why. Usually when someone you know saw your scratching scar, they would act disgusted when you explains to them that you were just feeling itchy and couldn't handle yourself. Guess maybe that is partly your fault for not confessing your true action. You preferred it when people just look at you in disgust rather than in pity. Something about being pitied for makes you feel like you're taking advantage of people's sympathy.
You look down on your arm then back at Pierrot eerily calmly now that you're used to his proximity. "I don't know.", is all you're going to answer this time. It's partially true, since sometimes you forgot what was the purpose of your past action overtime. His concern still doesn't waver. You thought it's supposed to be you who's feeling concerned of the clown for stalking you, he didn't need to tell a joke for you to laugh. Though it's not really the right time.
"Is this all for me treating your scar? Because you know, you're freaking me out instead, Pierrot.", you scoffed. You just realized that you're supposed to be mad. Like really mad for this joke called love. How dare he pretending to be feeling concerned at you just because you give a small act of kindness. The wants to punch him again is back and it's making your finger twitch. Oh how you want to cut out all these nice acting. Maybe you actually want to die if that means you can piss off this clown.
"I apologize again, my dear."
"No, no. Stop apologizing. I don't really want to hear apologize from a creep."
"Okay..."
Pierrot look at you with hurt eyes. You might be a people pleaser, heck maybe a bootlicker too. But someone breaking into your apartment is just crossing the line. Even if it's a sweet guy that you just met today. "I will give you space then...", he carefully gets off of you while still sitting on the bed. Pierrot hesitantly pulling his legs off the bed. "Just... If you have any problem...", he looks back at you again, "you can tell me and I will try to help you, my dear.", he smiles. You can't tell if it looked awkward or soft. You barely even gives his eyes a glance.
When he was about to get up, your hand grip his hand in place without much thought. You observed his gloved hands. Those nails, or maybe even claws, looks much sharper than yours. "Any problem?", you asked. still fixated on his claws.
"Y-Yes my dear..."
"Will you hurt me?"
"W-What? No of course I won't!", Pierrot quickly put his other hand a top of yours. Staring back at you in concern.
"You're not exactly human, are you?", you asked casually. Pierrot tensed at the question. You don't really specify if what you meant metaphorically or literally. But his reaction already gave away the answer. "Are you death?"
"What? No."
"A ghost?"
"No, No."
"A serial killer? Or am I your first victim?"
"I already told you that I'm not going to kill you, my dear. I would never do such thing.", he tightens his holds on your hands as his face leans closer to yours again. Maybe the intimidating pose is to convince you that he isn't, or maybe he's still unaware of his own intimidating vibes and thought he look like he's begging you to believe him. Especially with how wide his eyes are pleading. Either way, you still think that he's just trying to bluff at you.
"Then what are you, Pierrot?"
He doesn't answer for awhile until his grip loosen. His eyes looking down on yours and his hands. "Something else.", he answers lowly under his breath.
"Well, if that is how you describe being not a human is, guess I too am a something else.", you snicker a little towards yourself. How embarrassing that should be sounds like to say out loud. But you have never talk about this feeling of being not how a human supposed to be towards someone else you know. In a way, you are feeling comfortable enough to talk about this stupid feeling. Not for Pierrot though. He seems both confused and especially still sad after confessing his origin.
"Whatever do you mean, my dear?", he asked.
"I mean, I guess not literally. But... Gosh, am I really going to vent out to my stalker?", you look at him before laughing without real humor behind it. "Oh, if I were to die soon, might as well confess."
"I told you that I won't kill you.", Pierrot frustrated slightly at you repeating the same accusation.
You ignored his defense as you look down on your hands. The contrast of the claws hidden under a soft glove and your human hands showing uncovered and slightly bruised. Which one of them are human's and something not human's hands? You wonder what does make a difference between them.
"Being human is confusing", you try to gather your word to try to make sense out of your thought that you have been having. "Human has morality. I think that's what's supposed to make human different than any other living being. To be kind towards each other. To love and connect to someone else so strongly."
"But...", you look away. "I don't think if I am kind. Sometimes I'm questioning my own morality whenever I take an advantage of others..."
Pierrot waits for you to continue, but after you don't he answer firmly. "You are a kind person.", he assures you. Holding your hand firmly and not letting go just yet. "You helped treating my wound."
"And look where it got me into.", you grimaced. Pierrot only felt more hurt the more your usual kindness gone under one night. He doesn't understand. What made you change. "I wasn't being kind. I just... Felt like I had to do something in that situation."
"And that is what people named kindness, my dear. Not everyone will do the right thing and help someone like me.", Pierrot leans closer to places his forehead against yours. But you avoid him and he discard the intention if you are feeling uncomfortable. He wants to regain your trust again. "Believe me. You are kind."
"But I don't feel like I actually did it to help you. My body just moved on it's own. I'm not really a good person.", you still doubting yourself. This instant reaction doesn't feel like your real intention. And you hate how you want your sympathy to just be gone but also hate how you wished so in the first place. All your kind effort are bearing fruitless as you lack the intention. Maybe it would've been better off if you just act more mean towards other. But you don't get the energy and heart to be mean as well. It's all so confusing.
"Then again everyone can't always be a good person. And I think that's okay.", Pierrot doesn't really understand your inner conflict, but he will still try to reassuring you that it's okay to not feel like you're a good person sometimes.
"I know that, Pierrot."
"Then why do you think you're not allowed to be not a good person once awhile?"
"I don't know. I feel bad, I think.", you really can never make up a good answer about your feelings, and it's shows. You sighed as you try to explain your thought, even when there are no real reason for you to think what you thought. "I just know that I don't deserve good people around me."
"But you do deserve so much, dear.", Pierrot disagrees. This time much softer. Like he wants you to truly accept the truth he's giving to you.
"Whatever you say, stalker.", you scoffed lightly.
Pierrot frowned. Finally letting go your hands. Though you still holds them. "Do you think those claws can cut me deep?", your sudden question caught him off guard. You could've swore his mouth on his mask disappear at the corner of your eyes as you still observe the claws. "Curious."
"I told you-"
"I think I will give you the permission to do what you want to me now. I don't care. You could just kill me now.", you look down at your hands as they reaches down your shirt. "Or torment me first. Or maybe... Touch me first...", you started to absentmindedly pulling the fabric up. "it's easier when I give in, right-"
"Stop that!", Pierrots hands found them desperately clinging on your shoulders. Trying to get your attention back at him and stop whatever you were trying to do. Not realizing how his claws almost planted into the flesh. You noticed his terrified face. Maybe slightly tinted with red. The common reaction you would got if you were to continue your action if it were in any different situation. He probably wants it as well but just holding back. You thought.
You were about to argue him how he probably don't mean it. But he hugs tightly before you could. Caged in his embrace, you stare back up at the dark ceiling as he continues to ramble something about how you should value yourself more than this. You aren't exactly listening, but you get the idea. But refused to acknowledge it. You're tired. And the hot tears on your eyes made you refused to open them because they would drop more if you blink. And so after a moment or later, you found yourself recklessly sleeping in the arms of your damn stalker.
It's not the best resolution to this story, but then again both of you are just as messed up. You can't help how this supposedly forbidden meeting have comforted your disturbed self. You know it's still not healthy. But at least now you know how it feels like to share your feelings to fellow non human.
(idk how to end this story, chat. sorry.)