Chapter Text
The tent curtain falls once his claws enter. He quickly undoes the string holding his shawl and folded it up nicely. Fire danced up onto the wicks of the candles above, chasing the darkness away.
Darkness that he clung to.
Harlequin stared at the passing shadows as they retreated from the scolding flames. Pierrot blew on his finger, putting out the lonesome flame with a somber expression. He reached back to unzip his accessories, letting them fall into the wooden box labeled with his name. Harlequin copied, resting his stuff neatly in the matching green bin.
"...You are...willing to talk. Yes?" Harlequin asked, turning to the red clown. His bells jingling behind him.
Pierrot looked up, his eyes tired even behind the mask. The tear dripping down his right eye seemed to melt. He said nothing like always, just a slight nod making his bells ring on his hat.
Harlequin stepped closer, fiddling with his gloves in an attempt to remove them. "Now that MC has decided to not pick sides, I'm assuming they'd prefer us to... get along, for their sake." He mumbled, his grin very shy, not wanting to seem sadistic, not this time.
The red clown removed his hat, sliding it off his long gray horns. As he folded the bells in he finally spoke. "That requires a lot of forgiving that you’re not entitled to."
Harlequin bit down on his tongue, "...Entitled? You're not even giving me a chance?" He said with another smile, this time relatively forced into place. He slunk closer as he removed his left glove. Stretching his fingers out. "Cmon... I'm trustworthy."
"No." Pierrot said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Up until now you've had zero interest in anything but torturing me."
"Teasing, handsome." Harlequin mumbled, removing his other glove.
Pierrot growled, pushing past Harlequin. However he didn't get very far until Harlequin grabbed his hand. "Wait, let me... try that again." Harlequin brought Pierrot inches away, interlacing their fingers much to the red clown's protest, refusing to close his hand around Harlequins. "I'll stop. Harassing you, I mean. Teasing is... negotiable if you let me get closer..." He lifts his hand up by the mask covering Pierrot's face, hesitating before changing his mind and brushing the lone strand of white hair behind his back.
Pierrot pulls away once again, the disdain on his face becoming more and more apparent. Harlequin released Pierrot's hand with a sigh. "...You just gonna stay quiet? ..."
The red clown responded with his silence. Walking backwards towards the center of the tent.
After not so much thought, Harlequin sprinted after Pierrot. "Just tell me what I can do."
"Nothing." Pierrot responded, turning around and walking faster, leading to Harlequin grab his waist and force him against the table to stop him from moving. They collided with the table and shifted it backward.
"I can always do something, you want me to stop being a bitch? Or do you want me to fuck your brains out? Tell me."
Pierrot's shock spread across his mask, wide eyes as he found himself against the table, trapped under Harlequin. Forever speechless.
"It's for MC. You said you'd do anything for them. So do it for them."
"They don't care." Pierrot responded in a low growl, but the pink began fuzzing onto his face.
Harlequin rolled his eyes, "They care a lot. No partner wants their two boyfriends fighting-"
"And you respond to such by pinning me against a table?" Pierrot pushed Harlequin, who grabbed his wrists and pushed him back.
"Otherwise you'd run. Because you have no interest in talking to me even though I'm trying to fix us."
"Nothing will fix us. You've ruined everything for me."
Harlequin snarled, frustration forming in his gut. He could feel his back throb in pain, aching to latch onto something in hate. "I saved us.” He snarled, grasping Pierrot's wrist tighter in his hand. “All of that was so we could be free. Besides, she asked me to-"
That lit a golden fire in Pierrot's eyes, suddenly his fury came in the form of his claws as he lashed out onto Harlequins arms, digging deep cuts in them. "She did not ask to die! She did not ask to be used! She did not ask to be eaten!!" He yelled, his voice dripping with anger before pushing Harlequin into the costume boxes and storming off deeper into the tent, disappearing behind the flap to the sleeping quarters. Not finished with his undressing but finished with the green clown sharing his space.
Harlequin sighed, rubbing his shoulder and wincing in pain. His back and arms stung as he lifted himself out of the box.
As he checked his forearms for damage, he could see the blood soaking through his circus attire, completely punctured through his wrists.
She didn't ask.
You didn't fix anything.
The pain in his back lingered as he removed his hat, trying to pull his horns out without ripping it. He tucked the bells in, movements slower than usual. Next he pulled the string of his belt apart, sliding his dress shirt off, shaking out his body. The tentacles protruding from his back raised into an arch above him, lingering…
Ruined his life…
Harlequin moved to the storage, searching for some bandages and gauze. It’s not the first time Pierrot had done something like this, it didn’t hurt all that much but blood was a very unfriendly sight on him.
Something brushed against his back, he flinched so hard he nearly kicked all the boxes down. Upon turning he was met with nothing, still an empty tent.
Jumpy. Too quick.
He snarled at his thoughts, returning to the box labeled “Excess Medical” and prying it open.
Knife-like objects sunk deep into his skin at his chest, hips, shoulders and biceps, causing him to rebound back away from the box, throwing the bandages he held. Harlequin bit his tongue as they dug deeper and deeper by the second.
Suddenly he was bleeding. And his lungs were punctured. Every breath he sucked in would just leave him again immediately. And the pain. A rib might've cracked with how much force went straight to his rib cage. Harlequin grasped at the weapons attacking him, only to find it was himself. Tendrils and desperately trying to rip his own skin, hungry for his warmth. Everything around him was nothing more than a blur. He cursed quietly, pulling at the ones on his biceps, prompting the green vine to push itself deeper into his body, squirming out from the back.
"Harlequin?" Jester said, shuffling into the tent still dressed in his circus attire, including his hat. Once the light cozied around Harlequins form, Jester seemed to realize what was going on. "Oh my..." He mumbled, instantly rushing over the monster in distress, dropping everything in his hands. "Here, don't touch it. You're making it sink deeper."
The Jester's gentle touch graced Harlequin's shoulders, pulling the poisoned creature into his arms. The moment he touched one of the tendrils they stopped sinking deeper, like he paused it in time. "You're not breathing, dear. Take some breaths. ...Unless... are they puncturing your lungs?"
Harlequin nodded as best he could, arms wrapping over his bare chest as shaky gasps attempted to come in and out. Jester had no panic as he held Harlequin, massaging the area around the punctures to the green monster's chest. He managed to loosen the grip, allowing the tentacles to slide free from Harlequin, blood soaking it from the tips to about four inches up. Jester snatched them from the air and wiped the blood off on his gloves. "They stab in and latch up, don't they?" He says it like Harlequin wasn't aware of his own bodily functions. "Again this week… this hatred for yourself is new, Harlequin. Is it something that human gave to you? As you can see, it causes a lot more problems than just some self-image issues." Jester braced his hands down on the ones in Harlequins hip.
Harlequin was too focused on breathing, covering the holes in his chest hoping maybe that would help. He felt as though he were a balloon. Deflating.
"Frustrated? They can be extremely irritating, those humans, I know. You can't let them get to you." Jester said, allowing Harlequin to realize what he was talking about.
"No." Harlequin said, strained from the pain in his lungs. He opened his mouth again, releasing nothing but air.
"No?" Jester repeated, loosening the tentacles deep in Harlequins hips. "What do you mean by that?"
Harlequin wanted nothing more than to just dig the tentacles deeper into his flesh, but he didn't. Instead he forced a response out. "It's not MC." The two on his hip came free, lashing about until Jester grabbed them sharply with his claws, making Harlequin flinch.
"Really? Because this hasn't happened until now." Jester said skeptically, wiping the tentacles. Harlequin snarled in reply, rubbing his shoulder to help but his hand was ultimately pushed away as Jester worked alone. "Unfortunate." Jester mumbled, resorting to ripping out the two on Harlequins shoulders, making him slam his sharp teeth down on his lower lip. Blood quickly pooled straight into his mouth but he couldn't do anything about it. "Now I don't know what to do..."
Harlequin stayed silent, rubbing the pain from his shoulder just as Jester ripped the other one free, mumbling an apology with the sincerity of a psychopathic torturer.
"...Can you stop?" Harlequin growled as Jester prepared for the last one, slapping Jester's bloody glove off his bicep.
"I thought you didn't want to talk." Jester said flatly, pushing Harlequins hand away and going back to massaging the area to loosen the tendril.
"I just didn’t respond."
“You know that’s all I need." Jester poked at a vein on Harlequins arm to make him react. The tentacle sunk in deeper and the others flared up like they were getting ready to stab back in until Jester grabbed all of them in his one free hand, making them panic and thrash. "You don't hide from me."
Harlequin groaned, both in pain and anger. He ripped his tentacles out of Jester's grip, laying them on the floor again.
"You have control over these things, they don't control you." He said in his parenting tone once again. "I need you to realize that."
"It's my body."
"Then study it. Get to know it." He slid the tendril out much more gently, cleaning the blood off. This one was closer to six inches deep in blood.
The deep wounds in his chest had him breathing funny but still breathing. The holes were patched over in seconds, courtesy of the ringmaster. Harlequin just sat there and admired the handiwork before pulling his knees in and undoing his boots.
Which made Jester start talking again. "The only reason you call for me is because I know your body better than you do."
"I didn't call for you." Harlequin hissed.
Jester stood up, "Your eyes did. I don't need verbal responses when your eyes tell me much more." He took off his gloves and started folding them into each other.
Harlequin stayed silent, growling under his breath but getting up with Jester anyway once his boots were off.
"If you begin having trouble breathing then see Doctor, okay? Or if it happens again. And we won't do your show tomorrow if it becomes a problem. Understood?"
Harlequin nodded in silence as Jester walked away. He grasped his wrists that were no longer bleeding after all that, his tentacles raised up like daggers. Daggers to stab deep into anything. Ready to strike the moment they were needed.
He paused, took a deep breath, inhaling the air that finally came in right, before exhaling. He undid the string around his waist and finished changing out of his circus attire.
Every little twitch on his back had him snapping back to stare at the green tendrils. His arms throbbed in pain from the sheer force they had. He was honestly shocked his body was capable of something like that. Imagine what use this would've been... He thought quietly before finishing folding his clothes and tucking them into the bin neatly.
"Do you have a sleep shirt?" Jester's voice called, making Harlequin turn over to see him holding a basic gray T-shirt. "It'll keep them contained if you wish."
Harlequin dragged himself over to him, grabbing the shirt and hesitantly pulling it over himself. Forcing the tendrils to cling close to him like an awkward hug. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest, the shirt was far too small. Jester did nothing more than stare at him for a good long while, analyzing the creature that stood before him. As if he was watching him to make sure he wasn't going to do anything drastic.
Then he finally reached up to Harlequins cold mask and grasped the edges before sliding it off the monster's face, letting his skin peel from it and reshape back to its original form. "Get some rest, I don't like your silence." Jester took his hand to Harlequin's back, guiding him forward into the sleeping quarters and not taking his eyes off Harlequin until he climbed in bed and pulled the covers over himself.
And possibly waiting until the green monster fell asleep.