The Blorbo Blog

How fucking tired were you? You scrambled to get ready for a second day in a row, grabbing a protein bar and water on the way out the door as a breakfast substitute. You nearly tumbled down the stairs in your rush. You shot your boss a text, profusely apologizing for oversleeping again.

The streets were littered with flyers again. It felt wasteful at this point, really. Advertisement was important, but so was not littering. You seemingly didn’t learn much from yesterday as you hurried through the streets. You yelled as you slid, landing on the asphalt ass-first. You cursed to yourself, standing. Someone in front of you chuckled. You felt your face heat up, embarrassed, as a green clown came into view.

“Well now, I haven’t had someone fall for me that quickly before,” he laughed as you stood up. You rolled your eyes as you brushed off your pants and palms. You did have a little smile though, showing you weren’t pissed off at the joke. He was dressed similar to Pierrot, although he had a small cape around his shoulders versus Pierrot’s ruffled collar. His costume was green and black with gold, and less bells.

“Well, what can I say? I’ve always liked clowns,” you joked back, earning a pleased grin. He held a flyer out to you as if you didn’t just eat shit because of them.

“Well, in that case, perhaps I could sway you to visit our humble circus.” He bowed slightly as he held it out, looking at you with those ethereal eyes that the circus members seemed to have. His were a brilliant emerald, two slits that tried to unwind your very being under their gaze. A stark contrast to Pierrot’s soft gold that was always wide and endearing.

“No need. I got a ticket yesterday, actually. No swaying needed.” That gave him a bit of pause. His head tilted slightly as he stood to his full height, a new amusement in his eyes.

“Wonderful! Was it… a pink one, then?” There was a tone to his voice. Like he was remembering an inside joke. You vaguely wondered if he was giving out fake tickets, or if he was just wondering if someone else got hit by a shitty scalper. Either way, you shook your head.

“Red, actually. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You went to step around him to head to work. You felt his eyes on you, then heard bells as he followed behind you. Ugh.

“So that Pierrot gave it to you, hm? Interesting.” He circled around until he was in front of you again. He seemingly winked, giving you a new and more dramatic bow.

“I’m the Harlequin, dear one. Ah! I have an idea,” he said, as if something just dawned on him. He pulled a ticket out of his pocket, bright green and almost blinding you in the sun. The light caught the little laminated paper wrong, making you squint. He couldn’t help but snort as he angled it away from you.

“How about a trade? You can have mine, and I’ll take that little red one.” He held it out to you expectantly. Your brows creased in confusion. You asked what the difference was between all the colors. The sound of rapidly approaching bells cut off your new acquaintance. The Harlequin grinned, looking behind you now. You turned your head to see the newcomer.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Harlequin murmured to you. Pierrot made his way toward you both in long, angry strides. His fists were clenched at his sides, eyes dead set on Harlequin. You couldn’t help but step back slightly, almost into the instigator behind you. That seemed to knock some sense back into Pierrot. His gaze flicked to you, softening instantly.

“Aw, such a shame you don’t have a voice, Pierrot. Can’t say all those nasty little thoughts rolling around in there.” Harlequin dipped around you, smirking up at his coworker. Pierrot’s glare returned. He snatched the ticket from Harlequin’s hands, shoving it into his costume angrily. You wondered if it was part of their act- the Pierrot and Harlequin, forever at odds. You just happened to be in the middle of said act. Some part of you was flustered at the idea, even if it was just for show.

“Just wait ‘til Jester hears about this,” Harlequin near hissed as you hurried off. Pierrot tensed up, glancing back at your retreating form. You caught his eye as you turned a corner. Giving him a little wave and a smile, you hurried off to work. You’d see them both tonight, most likely.

A police car was outside the cafe when you arrived. You entered slowly, pulling out the spare keys to give them to your boss. He was busy talking with an officer, so you went to clock in and prep for the day while he finished up. You put the keys on the counter before you got to work. When the cop left, your boss came over to grab the keys. He ran a hand over his head, then down his neck. He looked stressed. Worried. You leaned on the counter, concerned.

“Everything alright, sir?” You were met with silence. He seemingly was looking for the right words to get out. He finally heaved out a sigh.

“Carol’s missing. Looks like she ran away from home- explains why she was a no-show yesterday,” he mumbled. You felt a lot of things at once, but the biggest one was sympathy. You knew what it was like, being trapped in a family home that made you want to run. She had vented to you before- on breaks and at night, when you two would call and talk. She was saving up to finally move out. You guessed she just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“If it was that bad, I don’t blame her for running. I’ll let you know if she calls,” you told him. He nodded, appreciative. He went to the backroom to look through applicants, having already advertised that they were hiring before Carol vanished, with an order to tell the police if she did call. Your stomach twisted at that. You knew her family situation well by now. You wouldn’t out her to the police if she really didn't want to be found. You secretly sent her a simple text just to check in. Ask if she needed help, or money.

Your phone rang as you sent the text, showing an unknown number. You answered it as the door opened. No one spoke on the other line, but you heard heavy breathing. A shiver ran down your spine.

“I know you can hear me, now quit calling.” You hung up quickly, blocking the number. You finally turned to the customer with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, how can I-?” You blinked, staring directly into a red and black chest when you put your phone away. You couldn’t help the giddy little smile that spread across your face as you looked up properly. Pierrot was looking at you with a mix of curiosity and delight. Your cheeks grew hot, realizing he overheard your problem.

“Don’t worry about that- I got it handled. You want a drink, Pierrot?” He didn’t look too convinced by your reassurance, but pointed to a milkshake. You gave him an amused smile and said you’d bring it to his table when it was done. He nodded, jingling off to a table closest to the counter. You took a couple more orders, then got to work on drinks. Your boss came out as you were preparing the ice cream for Pierrot’s milkshake.

His eyes cut to Pierrot, who was watching you the whole time. The clown was immediately on edge, eager grin vanishing quickly as he met your boss’s eyes. He frowned, leaning down toward you.

“The clown buy anything?” He asked quietly, so as to not alert anyone else to his question. You jumped slightly, not having noticed him next to you. You let out an embarrassed grumble at his little, apologetic smile. You told him about the milkshake. He didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t as annoyed as when he came out.

“Good. I don’t want them hanging around without buying anything- and tell him not to put up any flyers around here,” he ordered, heading back to answer the work line. You gave a noncommittal noise in response as you blended the milkshake. You finished it with a swirl of whipped cream, a pretty drizzle of chocolate, and a nice cherry to top it off. You put the lid on the to-go cup and turned to call Pierrot to the counter.

You nearly dropped the drink when you saw he was right across from you. Pierrot grabbed your arm firmly where you had placed the drink down, leaning in closer. Your heart raced, shocked, before your conversation from last night returned. He couldn’t be seen talking in public. That was all. You leaned closer at the crook of his finger. When his face was nearly next to yours, he finally spoke.

“Was he being rude, my dear?” His whisper sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps ran along your arms. You coughed slightly, gathering yourself.

“My boss…? Oh no, nothing like that. Just… giving me some updates on work stuff. A colleague of mine, uh… quit suddenly, so it’s gonna be tight ‘til we hire a couple more people. He’s a good guy, just business-oriented.” You didn’t think Pierrot would put flyers around. It didn’t even look like he had any to spread around. You did glance back to see if he was around, not wanting to get Pierrot banned from the place.

“Will you… come tonight?” he asked, a little more at ease now. You didn’t initially plan on going tonight, but you had no other plans beyond takeout and watching the new season of Married at First Sight. You hummed softly.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’m excited to see it,” you grinned, feeling that childlike wonder you always had about the circus. Pierrot’s cheeks dusted red at your honesty. His hand slides down your arm, gripping your hand in near reverence. Your heart thudded in your chest. You’d almost thought he could hear it from how his grin widened.

“That makes me happy to hear. Will you promise to use my ticket, my dear?” His hand gripped yours tighter, claws almost digging into the skin through his glove. You swore to him you would, eyes trailing to the glove’s claws. They were convincingly real. His eyes followed yours, realizing you were staring at them. At your joined hands. He released you real quick, making an odd face to distract you. You hummed, amused at his avoidance. Before you could even ask about the tickets, a few more people came in. A kid got all starry eyed at Pierrot, much to his joy.

Pierrot fished out his payment for the milkshake as a woman stomped up to the counter. You mentally prepared yourself as she shoved her way past the giant clown. You frowned.

“I don’t have all day. You have other customers besides the clown! How long’s it take for a black coffee?” She huffed, arms crossed and foot tapping. You put on your customer service smile.

“Just a moment, ma’am. I’m finishing up a transaction,” you said, hoping to placate her. She growled to herself, pulling her phone out to loudly complain she’d be late because her barista was slow. You rolled your eyes as you turned back to Pierrot. He placed the money in your hand with the utmost care, as well as a chocolate bar. Your eyes lit up.

“You’re a lifesaver- I barely had time to eat this morning. Have a good day, Pierrot.” You tucked the chocolate into your apron pocket, and money in the register. Pierrot waved happily. He passed by the Karen, shooting her a nasty glare before he left completely. You turned to make her stupid coffee, a little disappointed you wouldn’t see Pierrot actually drink his milkshake. Put the makeup vs mask debate to rest. You were now leaning towards mask, as the mouth didn’t move when he spoke, but that still confused you as to how it bled and blushed.

Either way the guy was pretty cute, mask or not. It seemed every time he saw you, he had a little gift for you. You recalled the paper flower on your desk with a flustered smile. Even the woman’s jabs at how lazy you were- how she wasn’t coming back- didn’t put a damper on your mood as you thought about it. About the chocolate bar in your pocket. About the ticket given just to you by a cute giant who looked at you like you put the stars in the sky.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You were just lonely, that was all. Latching onto people who treated you nice, just like before. You couldn’t afford to fall back into old habits. You had nowhere to run to, this time. You didn’t need useless crushes on random clowns.

“Oh, so this is where you work, dear one?” Speaking of random clowns… Harlequin ducked into view, leaning on the counter playfully. You were less excited to see this guy, but weren’t about to be rude to a potential customer. You gave him a less rigid smile though.

“Yep. Barista by day, clumsy oaf also by day. What’ll be, Harlequin?” You asked. He chuckled and ordered a simple iced coffee. You were thankful it wasn’t some super complicated drink as you got to work. You felt his eyes on you as you moved. You hummed softly to yourself, trying not to give away the rising anxious- flustered- feeling that was creeping up your back.

“So… About my ticket, darling,” he purred. His claws tapped against the wooden counter. Your hum turned from melodic to curious. Then you remembered the fight from this morning. Persistent.

“Like I said, I already got Pierrot’s. I promised him I’d use it. Don’t wanna be rude about a gift.” You swirled the cup a bit, ice clinking together as you moved back to the counter. He smiled, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Aw, you sure? It’d be so much more fun if you used mine,” he purred. His eyes seemed to rake over your body, and those butterflies returned in a new way. Despite them, you rose a brow.

“And how’s that?” You asked, setting his drink in front of him. He placed a finger in front of his mouth, winking at you. You rolled your eyes, nudging his drink towards him. He raised his hands in defeat. Then he twisted a hand around, showing off a little green heart pin that appeared between his fingers. You couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a little chuckle, which seemed to egg him on.

“If you won’t accept my ticket, I have a little something else for you. I’d love it if you wore it tonight, precious.” He leaned down to get at your collar, pinning the little heart to your collar. He wasn’t near as tall as Pierrot, but you were shorter than all these clowns anyway. He tapped the metal with his claw once it was in place. His glowing eyes dragged themselves from the pin, up to your lips, then to your own wide ones.

“I’m going to take you from him,” he near hissed under his breath. Your heart raced at the noise and you suppressed a shudder. His claws trailed from your collar, your pulse point, until they reached your chin. He tilted your head up toward him. You didn’t know if he could feel how hot your face was through the glove, but he sure grinned like he did.

“Here’s the payment.” He placed the cash on the counter as he let you go. Harlequin took his drink nonchalantly, like he didn’t borderline harass you at your job. You wondered if being this touchy with random people was also a part of their act, somehow. Or just a way to get people interested. Maybe you were just lonely, but good lord you were interested.

“See you tonight, dear one. Make sure you don’t miss my show,” he chuckled, giving you a lazy wave as he left the cafe. You heard a few people mutter, looking between you and the flirtatious Harlequin that just exited. You leaned against the counter, hand over your face in pure embarrassment. What kinda dark romance bullshit did you just encounter? You should be mortified, telling the boss so that guy wouldn’t be allowed in.

Some dangerous part of you liked the attention, you think. Maybe you need to get back into therapy, if you’re having these fantasies. You didn’t need to fall back into self-destructive habits. Or have history repeat itself. Your chest hurt at the thought. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself, and got back to work. Maybe indulging in a bit of chocolate, too.

Your boss called it a day early for you, saying he’d have to cut hours until he found at least one more barista. You were a bit worried about that, but more worried about Carol. And also the huge claw marks on his arm.

“Huge ass cat, I think,” he said as you grabbed his arm to examine it. You’ve seen your fair share of animal attacks in your time as an ER nurse. The wounds weren’t deep, but were wider than a cat’s claws.

“You don’t need stitches, but I’d still go to the hospital on the off chance it was a raccoon. Don’t need you catching rabies.” You pulled out the first aid kit, despite his protests. You weren’t about to let him walk out with an unclean animal wound. You secured the gauze on his arm, then went to wash your hands.

“Well, lucky I hired a nurse as well as a barista. Are you still going to the circus?” He asked as he watched you prepare to leave. You nodded eagerly. He nodded to you in farewell as you headed for the door.

When your friend, Chloe, invited you out for a weekend cruise with Marcus and the gang on his parents' prized possession, you’d envisioned lazy hours baking under the sun, cold drinks, and a long, late afternoon anchored by in a local favorite: the crescent of Shell Key.

But as you squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun, a strange feeling began to form in your gut.

To the east, the low, pine-crested silhouette of Shell Key was shrinking in the distance... It wasn't just behind you; the boat was actively steering away from it, heading straight out into the deep, dark blue of the open shelf.

"Hey, Marcus?" you called out, raising your voice over the steady, expensive hum of the engines. "Aren't we supposed to be anchoring at the cove? We just passed the island..."

Marcus gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity that didn't match his usual relaxed demeanor. He hadn't even bothered to look back; his shoulders remained rigid. Beside him, Toby and Leo were huddled over a heavy canvas tarp in the stern, whispering with a strange, nervous energy.

You frowned, stepping down from the raised deck. "Guys? Hey, did you hear me? We're going the wrong way."

Silence stretched, becoming heavy and awkward, punctuated only by the slap of waves against the fiberglass hull. You looked to Chloe, your closest friend in the group, who was sitting on the plush leather bench. She was actively avoiding your gaze; staring at her manicured nails, biting her lower lip. Hard.

"Chloe?" you prompted, a edge of suspicion creeping into your tone. "What the hell is going on?"

Chloe finally looked up at your uncharacteristically harsh words, offering an overly charming smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well... Don't be mad, okay? We decided to take a little detour. But... we found a way to make money. Like, real money: life-changing money."

You stared at her not comprehending, but your stomach turned sour. "What are you talking about? …Marcus' family already has money."

"Not like this," Chloe clarified as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. "And Marcus wants his own crew; his own name. Toby’s uncle works the black-market imports down at the deep-water docks, and he gave us a tip. He said there’s a reef system out here that hasn't been charted properly. A reef where people have seen... them."

The air in your lungs suddenly felt very cold. "...Them?"

"Mer-creatures," Chloe said, the word slipping out like a dirty secret. "The big ones. The deep-water ones. A specimen in good condition—especially a rare type, or a large male—can fetch seven figures easily. Especially if the buyers from the private research firms or the exotic aquariums get into a bidding war. We just need to catch one—just one—and we're set for years."

"Are you out of your minds?!" The words erupted from you, sharp and furious. You looked from Chloe to the boys, who stopped their whispering to stare at you. "You're talking about capturing a living, intelligent being! You know what happens to them: they die in those holding tanks within weeks, or they're dissected, or... or kept in cages for sick tourists to gawk at. It’s monstrous!"

"Oh, come off it," Toby scoffed as he waved a hand dismissively at your outburst. "They're just fish with hands, babe. Highly evolved pests. Besides, they don't even feel pain the way we do."

"They do feel pain!" you yelled as you boldly stepped toward him, your chest heaving with indignation. "You can't do this. Turn the boat around, Marcus! I don't want any part of it. I'll report you the second we hit land!"

"You won't report anything because you're our friend," Chloe pleaded as she reached for your wrist. Her grip was tight and desperate. "Just think of what we could do with that money—"

"I don't care about the money!" You wrenched your arm free. "This is more than just being wrong! It’s illegal, it's cruel, and I won't let you—"

"Got something!" Marcus's voice cracked through the tension, eager and beginning to radiate with adrenaline. He was staring intensely at a secondary monitor—one that wasn't part of the navigation tools you'd notated from earlier. "Deep sonar just registered a massive heat signature and motion pulse... It’s big. Way too big for a shark or a dolphin. It’s got to be a male, bro, there's no way it's anything else."

"Turn on the disruptor!" Toby yelled, his face flushing red as he scrambled to the stern.

A heavy low-frequency hum suddenly rattled the deck boards beneath your feet. It wasn't a sound to be heard your ears so much as an intense vibration that worked it's way violently through your teeth, your very bones, and enough to make your stomach churn with sudden, acute nausea. The water behind the boat immediately began to churn, frothing with a unnatural, disturbed energy.

The world was supposed to be quiet far beneath the surface of the water...

Pierrot had been gliding through the dim currents of the shelf, his long and powerful tail propelling him forward with an effortless, hypnotic grace. He carried a heavy woven net of sea-grass that was filled with a bounty of deep-water crabs and silver-scaled fish. Jester would be pleased by his efforts. Harlequin would complain about the lack of variety, but Doctor and Bil needed the sustenance, and Pierrot took his duties as the provider seriously. He was strong. Fast. He was the one who could dive deep where the pressure tended to crush the chests of less physically inclined species of mer-folk.

Suddenly, a horrific wall of sound struck him.

It wasn't a noise; it was a violent, invisible fist that slammed directly into his sensitive ear-canals and rattled his brain against his skull. The precious bounty in his net slipped away, forgotten, as his hands flew to his head, his sharp claws digging into the leathery skin of his temples.

Unnatural high-frequency vibrations?—humans.

Pierrot thrashed, his magnificent red-and-black tail—rimmed with delicate, flowing fins that flared like the deadly plumage of a lionfish—whipping the water into a frenzy. The disorientation was blinding. His vision swam, turning the deep blue of the ocean into a swirling vortex of sickening grays and flashes of light. He knew, instinctively, that if he surfaced, the difference in the pressure of the air might alleviate the agonizing vibration echoing through the water column... But surfacing meant exposure. It meant facing the very monsters Jester had warned him about since he was a pup.

“Humans are bloodthirsty, Pierrot. They look at us and see only trophies, science, or entertainment. If you see their wooden and metal creations: you dive. And do not look back.”

But the pain was too much. He couldn't breathe; his gills flared uselessly against the vibrating water. Through the deafening hum, a strange, muffled cry reached his ears. It was high, desperate, and panicked; filtering down from the silhouette of the vessel idling above.

“NO! Stop it! You’re hurting him! Stop!”

It was a voice. A human voice, but it wasn't filled with the harsh, triumphant laughter he had learned to fear. It sounded... panicked. Protective.

On deck... the scene had dissolved into chaos.

Toby and Leo had pulled back the heavy canvas tarp to reveal a horrific contraption newly bolted to the stern deck. It was a heavy, rusted iron speargun, a brutal weapon of heavy-gauge steel with a thick, barbed harpoon resting in its chamber. A massive spool of braided nylon rope was attached to the end of the projectile.

"Get it ready!" Marcus yelled, his hands shaking on the wheel as he tried to keep the boat positioned over the rising shadow. "He’s coming up! Whoo—! The disruptor is driving him crazy, man!"

"I've never actually fired this thing, Marcus!" Leo shouted back, struggling with the heavy manual crank of the spear's tension spring.

"Just point and pull the trigger when you see color!" Toby yelled, coming over to try and help him guide the heavy iron barrel.

"Stop it!" You lunged forward, grabbing Toby's shoulder to pull him away from the weapon.

"You're going to kill it! Let it go!"

"Get her off me!" Toby shouted as he threw you back. Chloe caught you, her hands wrapping around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides.

"Please, just stay out of it!" Chloe cried in your ear, her voice cracking with uncertainty. "We're almost there! I-it'll be so fast.. just let them do it!"

Below, the water broke.

A creature erupted from the foam, and your breath caught in your throat. He was terrifyingly beautiful. His skin was a striking, dark to almost a pure ebony, contrasting sharply with the deep crimson that patterned with obsidian black over his lower body. That tail was massive, lined with long, trailing fins that billowed in the water like silk tipped with sharp, defensive spines. But it was his face that paralyzed you. A pale decorated mask covered his features, stark white against the dark water, but his eyes—huge, luminescent pools of brilliant gold—were wide with agonizing pain and feral fury.

He hissed, a sound that was less fish and more predatory cat, exposing a nice set of sharp, razored teeth. The creature surged forward at the surface of the water; raw power. Thrashing against the hull, he slammed his powerful body against the fiberglass, making the entire boat shudder. He was trying to capsize them. He was fighting for his life.

"DUDE, he's going to sink us!" Marcus shrieked. "Shoot him! Shoot him now!"

The young men lined up the heavy iron spear—not needign to be told a second time—with the thrashing, magnificent creature in the water; something inside of you snapped.

With a surge of desperate-adrenaline strength, you threw your weight backward, driving your elbow into Chloe’s ribs. She gasped, her grip loosening enough for you to break free. You lunged across the deck, your eyes landing on a large, heavy iron winch-handle lying near the bait well. You snatched it up, the cold metal weighted and solid in your hands.

You didn't think; you just swung.

You brought the heavy iron handle down, with a loud cry, onto the bolted mount of the speargun.

CLANG!

The metal shrieked. The old, rusted bolts holding the weapon to the fiberglass deck groaned under the impact.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Leo screamed, reaching for you.

You didn't answer. You swung again, and again, putting every ounce of your weight into the strikes.

CLANG!

A hairline crack splintered through the fiberglass around the base of the mount. One of the heavy bolts sheared off entirely, flying across the deck like a bullet.

"Get away from that!" Toby roared, lunging forward and grabbing your shoulders. He spun you around violently, his face contorted in rage. "Are you crazy?! You're ruining everything!"

As he spun you, your foot tangled in the loose, heavy coils of the nylon rope lying on the deck—the rope attached to the loaded steel spear.

"You're not going to hurt him!" you screamed back into Toby's face, kicking out to free yourself.

But Toby, blind with frustration and adrenaline, shoved you backward.

You stumbled, your heel catching on the lip of the stern deck. You fell hard, crashing directly into the damaged speargun mount. The sudden impact of your body weight was the final straw for the compromised fiberglass. With a sick-sounding and grinding tear, the heavy iron weapon tilted, its remaining bolts snapping like dry twigs.

"No, no, no!" Marcus screamed from the helm. "The gun! My dad’s gun!"

With a heavy splash the massive iron speargun slid over the side of the boat, plunging into the dark deep waters of the sea.

For a fraction of a second there was a stunned, breathless silence that hung in the air. You sat on the deck, chest heaving with adrenalinne from all your efforts, a small triumphant smile touching your lips. The weapon was gone. They couldn't hurt him now.

And then... the rope went taut.

Before you could even register the danger, the long, heavy spool of rope attached to the falling iron gun uncoiled with terrifying speed. The loop that had tangled around your ankle snapped shut around you like a vice.

A sudden, violent jerk ripped you from the deck like a rag doll.

"Chloe!" you screamed. Your fingers clawed uselessly at the deck as you were dragged backward over the edge of the boat.

"Chloe, grab her!" Marcus yelled.

Chloe lunged, her fingers brushing the hem of your clothes, but the weight of the sinking iron gun was too great. You were dragged over the side of the boat with a loud splash and plunged into the cold suffocating embrace of the ocean.

"Jump in! We have to get her!" Chloe screamed hysterically while leaning over the railing, her eyes never leaving where you were dragged under.

"Are you insane?!" Toby yelled back, pulling her away from the edge. "That monster is down there! He'll shred us to pieces! Did you see his teeth?!"

"We can't just leave her!"

"It was her own stupid fault!" Leo panicked as he clutched the sides of his head. "She threw the gun over! That thing is going to kill her, an-and then he's going to come for us! Marcus, drive! Drive!"

"Shit, shit, SHIT!" Marcus sobbed, his hands shaking so violently that he could barely grip the throttle. He looked at the bubbling water where you had disappeared; face pale with guilt and terror. But fear won out. He slammed the throttle forward. The engines roared to life and the Siren’s Call sped away into the gathering twilight, leaving a trail of white foam behind.

Underwater the world was a rushing, dizzying blur of bubbles and crushing pressure.

You thrashed desperately, the saltwater stinging your eyes as you reached down to your ankle. The rope was wound too tightly, cutting off the circulation; the sheer velocity at which the sinking speargun was pulling you down made it impossible to loosen. Your lungs burned. You had managed to catch only a half-breath before going under, and the air was already bubbling out of your lips in pretty silver spheres.

Above you the fading light of the sunset filtered through the water's surface, a beautiful, tragic canopy of bruised purples, deep oranges, and brilliant golds. It was a lovely view, you thought grimly as the darkness of the deep ocean began to swallow you. At least the last thing you saw wouldn't be the cruel faces of your friends... At least the mer-creature was safe...

Through the haze of your failing consciousness, a shadow detached itself from the gloom.

Pierrot watched your descent.

His ears were still ringing, but the painful hum had stopped when the boat’s engines roared and faded into the distance. His first instinct was to flee; to dive into the deep trenches where no human could ever follow. Then Pierrot saw the shape of you. The small, fragile human that'd fought so loudly on the deck. The one who had destroyed the metal weapon...

You were sinking, being dragged down by the heavy iron weapon.

“They are all the same, Pierrot. They only want to hurt us.” Jester’s voice echoed in his mind.

But you'd screamed in defiance... fought to save his life. You'd taken blows that were meant for him.

His golden eyes widened as he saw your thrashing begin slow down. Your limbs grew heavy and began drifting uselessly in the current. You were dying... Humans couldn't breathe in the water.

Pierrot surged forward with a powerful flick of his tail. The red and black fins along his spine flared as he cut through the water like a spear. In a heartbeat, his large form was beside you. His clawed hand, webbed and lethal, swiped through the rope around your leg. The sharp hardened cartilage of his claws sliced through the fibers as easily as a heated knife would through butter.

The deadly pull stopped.

Gently, with great tenderness that contrasted sharply with his presentation, Pierrot wrapped his powerful arms around your waist. He pulled you close to his chest, noting with a fleeting curiosity at how soft and warm you felt in comparison to the cold ocean. With a mighty kick of his tail, he shot toward the surface. – – – – –

Your transition back to the world of the living was violent and agonizing.

You coughed, a desperate, hacking spasm that racked your entire body. Cold sea water spewed from your mouth and nose, burning your throat like liquid fire. You gasped desperately drawing in a sharp breath of air that felt like knives landing in your chest.

You were lying on your side, your fingers dug into wet coarse sand. The sound of gentle waves lapping at the shoreline filled your ears. The ragged sound of your own breathing was a violent contrast.

A heavy weight pressed down on your chest—two large clawed hands pushed down with rhythmic care.

"Mmmgh!—" You rolled completely over, retching up the last of the water in your system, resting your forehead against the damp sand as you shivered violently.

"Ah..." a hesitant raspy voice came from above you.

You slowly pushed yourself up on trembling elbows and blinked away the stinging salt from your eyes. By now the sun was almost completely dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a deep twilight indigo.

And there, hovering over you, was the creature you'd saved.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. He was incredibly close—so close you could feel the cool damp aura radiating from his skin. His massive, muscular chest was level with you as he propped himself up on his powerful arms, his tail submerged in the shallow surf behind him. The stark white mask on his face were startling in the dim light, but it was his eyes that currently held you captive. They were large dark eyes with luminous golden spheres, blinking slowly as he stared down at you with an expression of intense, puppy-like curiosity. You flinched, pulling your legs in, your heart hammering against your ribs... His sharp teeth flashed in your memory... then you remembered his claws. You were on a secluded sandbar: completely at his mercy in your current state.

Pierrot blinked, sensing your panic. He slowly tilted his head to the side, his long, white hair dripping wet, framing his face. He looked... confused by your fear.

He lifted one of his large, webbed hands slowly... carefully. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the worst.

Instead, a soft clack sounded on the sand in front of you.

You cautiously opened your left eye first... then the right. Lying in the sand next to you was a perfect lion’s paw shell; its ridges gleaming with a beautiful iridescent pink and orange.

You looked up from the shell to his face. He was watching you intently, his head still tilted. A delicate vibrating hum—the gentlest growl you'd ever heard—resonated from within his chest. It was an offering. A peace treaty.

"Y-You saved me," you whispered, your voice hoarse and cracked from the abuse of the saltwater.

Pierrot's amber eyes brightened. He looked to the left, then to the right—as if checking to see if anyone else was listening. Quite silly on a deserted strip... but when he looked back at you, he parted his lips. Your breath hitched, expecting a violent hiss (like the one from earlier), but instead, a voice came out—soft and surprisingly deep.

"P-Pierrot," he rasped out timidly, pointing a clawed finger at his own chest. He hoped an introduction would help to sooth you further. "M-my name... is Pierrot. Are you... alright, dear one?"

You stared at him in shock. "You... you can talk?"

He nodded slowly; a small, shy movement. "A-a bit, my dear.. But we don't use it often. Jester taught us human language, t-to be able to listen, to stay safe—but he also says... do not talk to humans. But you... You didn't want to see me hurt..." He leaned closer, his large eyes scanning your face for something; searching. "W-why? Why did you save me, dear one?"

"Because it was wrong," you spoke softly but with conviction, your shivering starting to subside as the sheer shock of this interaction between the two of you took over. "They wanted to sell you... To hurt you... I couldn't let them do that."

Pierrot’s fins flared slightly, a beautiful ripple of red and black shifting in the moonlight. "Wrong," he repeated, tasting the word as everything he'd been taught about humans was shattered by a single word. "Y-you are... different. And very small... very soft."

Before you could reply, your leg throbbed with a sudden pain; the adrenaline was wearing off. You gasped, looking down. Your ankle, where the rope had bound you, was rubbed raw. It was a thick angry ring of deeply bruised skin—the colors stark against the surrounding flesh.

Pierrot’s eyes immediately followed your gaze. His expression shifted from curiosity to deep concern, his brow furrowing. He slid closer to you, his heavy upper body dragging over the wet sand.

"Oh—" you whimpered as you tried to pull your leg away, still instinctively wary of his size. He was easily over twice your weight, his shoulders broad and corded with dense muscle. Given the scars you could see shining in the evening light: he was a fighter.

"L-let me see, my dear," he pleaded softly, his deep voice whining slightly, a sound so unexpectedly cute and pitiful it made your heart melt. "Please...?"

You hesitated a moment before slowly relaxing your leg.

Pierrot reached out, his clawed hand hovering over your ankle. With great care, using only the very tips of his fingers, he gently touched the uninjured skin just above the rope burn. His skin was rough, feeling thick, and cool... the temperature incredibly soothing against your inflamed flesh. He rotated your foot gently. His golden eyes wide with wonder as he examined the structure of your ankle, then your heel, and finally your toes.

"Y-you have no fins anywhere...," he mused as his thumb lightly brushed the sole of your foot. It tickled; you let out a tiny involuntary giggle.

Pierrot froze, those large eyes snapping up to yours; a delighted spark in his gaze. He eagerly touched your toes again, watching your reaction with a pure, endearing fascination. "Feet are strange... I-I mean, that is—there's nothing wrong with yours, my dear. I-I've just never seen them... H-how do you swim with these?”

"We can kick to swim, but uh—definitely not as good as you do," you smiled as your fear began to evaporate, being replaced by a warmth you hadn't expected. "They're much better for walking around on land."

Pierrot gave a fascinated hum. He lifted his own hands, comparing his long, webbed fingers to your shorter, delicate ones. He gently pressed his palm against yours. His hand was nearly double the size of yours, the skin of his palms slightly calloused. He stared at the contrast, a soft, contented hum vibrating in his chest. "Your hands have no webbing... H-how do you catch things, my dear?"

"Humans don't have webbing, no," you said in amusement. You marveled at how gentle his sharp black claws were as they rested harmlessly against your knuckles. "We can catch things though, but... I guess sometimes stuff can slip through. Just depends on how clumsy someone is, I guess." You laughed; a most beautiful sound, in his opinion. “I would definitely not be someone who caught things well,” you explained. Pierrot leaned a little closer, his face now mere inches from yours now. Heat filled your cheeks; suddenly his expression matched your own. You could smell the clean, crisp scent of salt and deep ocean on him. He reached out and very, very gently pinched the fabric of your wet shirt between two claws.

"This," he mused, "is this... a part of your skin, dear one?” For a brief moment he blushed and seemed to panic; worried you might be insulted. “I-it is very colorful, d-don't get me wrong... But it is peeling..."

You busted out in laughter; he was too adorable compared to what you saw him capable of earlier. "No, Pierrot, it’s not my skin: they're called clothes. Humans wear them because... well, we don't really have any scales or anything natural to protect us. And we can get cold pretty easily."

Pierrot looked over your body, his eyes wide with a mixture of pity and wonder at the idea that humans suddenly seemed so vulnerable on their own. Especially when they could also be so very dangerous... He let go of your shirt and reached up, his cool fingers hovering a mere centimeter from your cheek. "You felt so soft earlier... L-like the jelly fish that float in the currents. But, thankfully, you do not sting."

"No," you smiled, leaning slightly into his hand. His inquisitive nature was quite endearing. "I don't sting."

As you leaned into his hand, Pierrot's fingers brushed your cheek in soft strokes. A low pleased growl rattling in his throat. "My pod... they will not believe this..."

"Your pod?" you asked as you leaned back slightly to better look at him. "Are there a lot of others like you out there?"

Pierrot nodded enthusiastically, his long white hair swaying from the movement. "Yes! B-but I'm not sure how much I should talk about them... I'm not supposed to talk to humans, my dear. We're always told by Jester to be cautious... b-but do not worry. I will keep you safe—I'm very strong, dear one. It's why I do all the hunting for our pod.”

He puffed out his chest with a proud grin exposing his... normal looking teeth? You now realized he was purposely keeping the points of them slightly covered by his lips so as not to scare you. He seemed to be going through great lengths to be so cautious and attentive to your anxieties...

"You must be a very good hunter," you praised him; a means of thanking the mer-creature for his efforts.

"Th-the best, my dear!" Pierrot agreed proudly. "But... Because of the loud metal beast, I dropped all of my catch from earlier... W-While I am sad I lost the fish," he leaned in, his golden eyes glowing warmer, "I am glad I found you." His cheeks were glowing with warmth.

"I'm glad you found me too," you agreed. "...thank you, for saving me." Pierrot stayed quiet, relishing in this warm feeling that was spreading throughout his entire being; he'd never felt this way before.

He tilted his head again, capturing a strand of your hair that had dried in the ocean breeze. He rolled it between his fingers, fascinated by how light and fluffy it became when dry. "...Where do you live, my dear? I-I've never gone up to the surface very often, and I'm not sure how humans live... do you build homes in the ground, like a crab?"

"No," you shook your head with a chuckle. "I live in a small wooden home—my shack. It sits right up on the beach. It has a dry bed, a roof to keep the rain out, and as little sand as possible."

“Dry bed...? It sounds... very strange,” Pierrot thought about the idea of you sleeping. His heart hammered and suddenly he felt hot. “A-and very warm..."

As the last remnants of the sun faded beneath the horizon, the sandbar was plunged into the darkness of night. But you weren't left entirely in the dark.

You gasped softly as a strange ethereal light came from Pierrot’s tail. Deep within the crimson and black scales, bio-luminescent nodes began to pulse with a warm amber light that cast a soft romantic glow over the wet sand and the two of you.

"You glow," you were completely mesmerized. A part of you wanted to reach out, to touch him, but you refrained. Pierrot already had quite an eventful day with humans, and you really didn't want to test his patience or kindness. Even if he did seem extremely... affectionate? Maybe it was the curiosity.

"For the deep," Pierrot explained, pleased by your awe. "It is dark there—like now." His expression suddenly softened into one of gentle apology. "I am sorry, my dear. I had to bring you far away to this sandbar. I-I was worried... they might search that area again. B-but I had to make sure you were safe first..."

You looked out at the dark empty ocean, and a bitter laugh escaped your lips. "They won't search... They're probably hiding in their homes trying not to think about what they did."

Pierrot didn't understand, but he could hear the sadness in your voice. His head drooped. "Well, my dear, y-you are very...," he confessed into the dark. "Very brave—" Silence fell between you two for a moment.

"I just realized... I never told you my name," you changed the subject, not wanting to think about your friends and that they'd left you for dead, as exhaustion began to take over. You told him your name and this definitely lifted the weight in the air. Pierrot lit up. He practiced saying your name several times, the syllables sounding smooth and precious in his deep voice. Suddenly the wind cut right through you, making your teeth chatter. The cool night wind was picking up, and your wet clothes were beginning to feel like ice against your skin.

Pierrot's pleased expression vanished instantly, replaced with sheer panic. He hadn't the faintest idea of how to take care of a human. He let out a high-pitched distressed sound, and hovered over you doing his best to try and block the wind with his massive shoulders. "M-my dear, you're shaking. Like the little crabs when the tide goes out. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," you said through chattering teeth, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Just... very, very cold."

The merman looked down at his own tail, which was still half-submerged in the gentle waves. He looked back at you, his eyes pleading being faced with such a dilemma.

"M-my tail... I have to keep it wet," he spoke with a deep note of apology in his voice. "B-but my arms... my chest... they are dry. I-I can hold you, dear one—o-only to keep the wind away from you. If you're alright with that..."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking at his massive, powerful build. But as another shiver shook you, and you saw the genuine, anxious sweetness in his face, your hesitation melted away to nothing. He'd not given you any reason to fear him one-on-one...

"Yes, please.," you chattered the words out. “Th-thank you.”

Pierrot’s face lit up with absolute joy. With the utmost care, as if you were made of the finest, most fragile sea glass, he slid his strong arms under your back and knees. He pulled you flush against his chest, shifting so his tail remained in the shallow water while his upper body cradled you completely on the dryer portions of the sand.

The moment your body was pressed against him, you realized he wasn't freezing cold; his skin had a refreshing temperature that acted like a soothing compress, yet his dense, muscular body blockaded the wind entirely. He wrapped his large, webbed hands around your shoulders, tucking you securely under his chin.

You let out a soft sigh, resting your head against the crook of his neck. He shuddered, thankful you couldn't see him. Pierrot's face was a deep crimson, his grin large razored and unbridled at a happiness he'd never known. Your sweet scent... kind heart... He had a hard time believing today was even real, but—oh right...

"B-better, my dear?" Pierrot's chest vibrated against you as he spoke with that deep, velvety voice.

"Much better," you murmured, closing your eyes. Without the wind keeping you tense, you found yourself finally begin to give into just how tired you were. "...Thank you... Pierrot." He hummed, delighted, in response. Your name slipped through his lips, as though he were treasuring it as he held you... Pierrot found himself wishing the sun would get lost in the sky somewhere and never return; if only to hold you like this forever. “Sleep now, dear one... I will keep you safe..." – – – – – – – – –

Pierrot softly touched your cheek with the back of his hand, saying your name a few times until you finally began to stir. "The sun is coming, my dear..."

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, feeling remarkably rested despite sleeping on a sandbar. The air was cool as the morning mist hanging low over the sea before you. That's right... You had to get home. Your expression fell: and wet. Again.

Pierrot scooped you into his arms once you were both in the water, and the two of you were off. He swam with a smooth, silent power, keeping your head well above the water. Not many words were exchanged between the two of you on your trip home... You were far too tired and hadn't the faintest idea what to do about your 'friends' once you returned. Pierrot? It was hard to return you to your home, but he knew it was for the best... for now. Still, it didn't make it any easier; he'd never met any other being like you... So kind... so adorable. His heart ached as he swam.

After a while, the familiar shoreline of your beachside shack came into view. The weathered wooden dock and the small, cozy house looked quiet and still in the dawn light. No police cars, no sight of Chloe or anyone else... This was both relieving and unsavory.

Pierrot stopped several yards out where the water was still deep enough for him to submerge fully. He looked at the shore, then back at you, a profound sadness clouding his golden eyes.

"I cannot go closer...dear one," he spoke quietly, his grip on you tightening just a fraction. "The land is... not safe for me."

"I understand," you sounded distracted; surprised by the sudden hesitance rising up within you. You realized: you didn't want to leave him just yet. You had so many questions... A part of you was devastated that you hadn't innocently explored him and asked questions like he had last night. "Thank you, Pierrot... For saving my life."

"A-and you, for saving mine, my dear...” He leaned forward, gently pressing his cool forehead against yours for a brief, breathless moment. "I-I will swim beneath you... to make sure you get home safely..."

You nodded, reluctantly slipping from his arms. As you began to swim toward the shore, you looked down. True to his word, you could see the protective shadow gliding just beneath you, guiding you home.

When your feet finally touched the wet sand of your beach, you turned back to look for him.

The water was empty... The sun was rising and cast a golden light across the waves; he was gone. – – – – – –

That evening you sat by your bedroom window, a warm cup of tea in your hands. Your ankle was bandaged, and your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Marcus and the others hadn't contacted you, and you didn't care. That was a tomorrow problem. For now? Your life had changed forever.

You looked out at the dark ocean, watching the moon dancing on the movements of the black water.

What you didn't see the pale mask hovering just below the surface near your private dock. You didn't see the gleaming golden eyes watching your window; taking in every detail of the soft yellow glow of your lamp, the books on your shelf, knick-knacks of things he didn't understand... and the way you smiled as you looked out at the sea. ...were you looking for him...?

Your foot slid on a piece of paper and you barely caught a streetlight to steady yourself. A discarded circus flyer was stuck to your shoe, and you huffed in annoyance. These things were everywhere lately. You knew a traveling circus needed to advertise, but damn. You also needed to not have slipping hazards in the streets.

As you picked it up- to examine or throw away, you didn’t know yet- a heavy thud and shouting got your attention. You didn’t know if it was one of the performers or a street fight. You had seen the circus performers in pink oddly dancing about and handing out flyers. Maybe one got too close to someone.

“Ever since you showed up, people have been disappearing! Go back to whatever fucking hellhole you crawled out of!” A man yelled as you got closer. One of the clowns was on the ground, cheek bleeding from a nasty punch the furious man no doubt threw at him. The red-clad clown was silent, staring at the ground as he was yelled at. There was the faintest tremble in his hands as he tried to gather up fallen flyers. He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to provoke anyone. Your stomach twisted. You knew that look well.

“That is ENOUGH,” you barked, voice cracking slightly as your heart raced. Multiple heads turned toward you, including the injured party’s. You walked to the performer’s side, looking down at him worriedly. His gaze was intense- a mix of fear and awe. You gave him a reassuring smile before you turned back to the enraged attacker.

“I don’t care what you think of that circus, you can’t attack people over some rumors! Now go on before I call the cops,” you demanded. You turned back to the man on the ground, holding a hand out to help him up. He was about to take it when his attacker moved. The man stepped closer quickly, making you flinch. Your other hand moved instinctively, ready to block a blow. That got people muttering. Telling him to back off.

The man scoffed, embarrassed, and stalked off with a vague threat. He hoped you’d vanish to the circus, too. You steadied your breathing, hands trembling slightly from adrenaline, as you gave your full attention to the man on the ground. Slowly, he put his hand in yours. You helped him up, giving him an apologetic smile. Damn, he was huge.

“The nerve of some people- it’s not your fault some idiot ran off with a partner or something,” you huffed as you dug around in your bag. You pulled out a bandaid- a pink thing with a little cat on it- and motioned for him to lean down. He did so obediently, and the bandage stuck to his makeup easily. You assumed it was makeup, anyway. Hard to tell, but it was bleeding either way.

“You can still move your jaw, right, big guy?” you asked. He nodded, although made no move to actually show you as such. He had a smile now, cheeks going red as he examined you. His stare was still intense. The fear was gone, replaced with an excitement and appreciation. You felt yourself get a bit flustered under his gaze, eyes drifting to the side.

“Well, I’m uh… I’m already running late. If you happen to drop by the cafe, I’ll slip you a cookie,” you said with a good-natured wink. His face got more red as he nodded enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but snicker as his bells jingled with his movements. You waved, pulling your phone out to call your boss as you hurried off to work. You told him you were on the way, just got caught up in the middle of a problem. You were thankful he was a decent guy.

You were tying your apron as you rushed through the door. Work’s been busier because of the cold weather and you felt bad leaving your boss and Carol high and dry. Or, really, just your boss. Carol, you were told, was running late. You offered to take over for your rushing boss as an apology for being late. He gave you a grateful smile, going to work on other chores now that he had a chance.

You hummed as you looked over the tickets and grabbed drinks. Your customers had idle talk about the weather, and the circus, and people running off into the night. You could’ve sworn you saw a shadow outside the window at some point. When you went to check, there was a fogged up section of window with hearts drawn into the condensation. It was behind a now-empty table, so you assumed it was for someone who sat there. Either an admirer or partner or some family member. You couldn’t help but find it cute, though. You took a couple pictures real quick, before the hearts vanished. Maybe it was the basic facebook mom that was in you, deep down, but it was pretty so who cares. You nearly dropped your phone when your boss called your name.

“Mind picking up the stray flyers,” he laughed. You grumbled as you stood up and put your phone back in your pocket. You helped him pick up flyers, staring at one for a moment. You thought back to the man this morning, huddled on the ground. Afraid to make a scene or defend himself, for some reason. You frowned a bit.

“You think people are being overly rude to the circus staff? I know a horror circus is a bit unsettling, but… A guy got punched today just for working there.” No one was in the cafe at the moment, so you knew he wouldn’t care about the idle talk. Your boss shrugged, but you could see the disdain on his face as he balled up the flyers. You stacked yours neatly instead.

“The way they act freaks people out. I feel for them, but all this… circus crap is bad for business.” He didn’t really leave any room for argument as he threw his share away. A phone went off in the backroom, and he left you with your flyers. You sighed. You knew he was just trying to keep the cafe a more neutral ground, but it sucked. You hoped that guy was okay.

The bell above the door jingled. You welcomed the new customer- a man in a blue suit and slicked back hair- and took his order quickly. He eyed the flyers on the counter, before giving you a quiet thank you when you set his coffee down. He took a sip, before pointing at the stack of papers.

“I’m guessing those are from the circus?” He set the cup back down, leaning back as he spoke. You nodded with a soft huff.

“Yeah. Customers keep leaving them here, and the circus people put them on the windows outside. I had to clean up the strays.” You grabbed the stack again. The man silently prompted you to hand one over, which you did. He looked it over for a moment.

“How rude, to do that in another business. Makes more work for you, hm?” He half-joked. You nodded in agreement. He motioned for the rest of the stack.

“I was gathering paper for recycling anyway- I can take those for you, friend,” he offered. Thankful they wouldn’t go to waste, you set the stack next to his coffee with an appreciative smile. He took another sip of his drink, setting the stray paper he held on top of the stack. Just as you were about to turn to return to work, he spoke again.

“Do you like the circus?” You supposed it was a topical question, considering the one that set up shop at the edge of town. You really shouldn’t keep the conversation from dragging, but you were never one to be rude to a polite stranger.

“I loved the circus growing up, yeah. But if you mean this horror circus, I’ve never been. It sounds fun, though.” Horror was your favorite genre. You loved going through haunted houses at halloween, and most of your novels were monster based in some way. The man seemed pleased as he pulled something out of his breast pocket. A pink ticket for the infamous Freak Circus of Horrors.

“I had bought another ticket, intending to go back. Unfortunately I have to leave town. I’d hate for it to go to waste when such a lovely person could go in my stead.” He passed it to you. Your eyes almost popped out of your head. You couldn’t accept something like this. You wanted to tell him no, but he was already packing his stuff up. He nodded in farewell, and told you that he hoped you enjoyed the circus. You looked down at the ticket as he left. You thought back to the clown who looked at you like an eager puppy. You finally pocketed the ticket, a small smile on your face. Maybe you could see what his act was all about, and check in on him.

The rest of the day went quickly, people blurring together into a trickle of faceless orders. The clown from earlier in the day didn’t come by, which you found yourself disappointed by. You had hoped he’d at least swing by for lunch, for the solely selfish reason of showing that he was okay. He seemed chipper when you left him, though, despite the blood. You just felt bad for him. Being ganged up on- having people look with pity but not actually step in… It made your blood boil.

The last of the customers were getting ready to leave when your boss stepped out. He already had his apron off, car keys in hand as he got ready to leave. He passed the spare keys to the building to you.

“After they leave, clean and close up. We’re closing early today. I got an unexpected appointment, and I don’t want you going home so late since you’re alone. You fine closing?” No cause you fucking hated closing, but you also knew he was scrambling since Carol was a no-show. You nodded, shooing him out while you grabbed the keys. He headed out, flipping the sign to “closed” on his way for you. You waved at the last couple customers, telling them to get home safely. They wished the same to you as they exited the building.

You set your phone on the counter, letting music play from its speakers as you got to work cleaning. You sang along, dancing around the tables as you wiped them down. You nearly missed the jingling of bells as you belted out the chorus. You cut yourself off, turning to confront an unexpected customer. Your eyes met empty air and the still cafe tables. You frowned, looking for any disturbances.

The lights went out.

Your music continued to play, the phone screen now black as it was idle. You couldn’t tell if the shadows were moving or your brain was trying to find shapes in the dark. You dug your hand in your pocket, grasping the keys between your fingers for security. You knew the switches weren’t flipped, as you were facing that way when the lights went out. So you moved for the breaker. You felt eyes on you every step of the way, but feeling watched wasn’t exactly an unusual thought for you. It was just paranoia. It was always paranoia.

You found the breaker quickly, flipping it and restoring power to the building. You whipped around, yanking your hand out of your pocket, to confront your non-existent attacker. As expected, there was no one. You turned your music off, shakily putting your phone back in your pocket. The door opened right after, and you silently cursed the fact that people can’t read a “closed” sign.

“Sorry, we’re closed-!” You turned with a customer service smile, but it turned more genuine as you realized who it was. The clown from earlier, a grin on his face and blood dripping down his forehead. You did a double take when you saw that, hurrying around the counter and putting your keys back in your pocket. He tilted his head at how fast you moved, seemingly not even aware. It was kinda cute.

“Christ, dude, you’re an injury-magnet aren’t you? Come on, I’ll-” you were cut off. He pulled a well made paper rose out from behind him, presenting it to you. The petals were a deep red, still wet from the paint. You couldn’t help the flattered- and bewildered- laugh that escaped you.

“You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you? You didn’t need to do anything for this morning.” You did take it, though. You put it in one of the disposable cups so paint wouldn’t get on the counter. His face went red at the “sweetheart”, and you could almost hear a non-existent tail wagging. You knew people found clowns and all unsettling, but right now he was kinda cute. You smirked a little.

“Alright, buddy, chill out. We still gotta deal with all that- sit down and I’ll help you clean up.” You grabbed the first aid kit from under the counter. He seemed to jump at the order, sitting on a stool quickly so you could reach him. You grabbed some tissues to wipe him up with. It was still hard to tell if this was stage makeup or a mask, but the fact his face was moving swayed you to makeup. Maybe they make their own? It was weird, giving you an uncanny feeling that was only offset by how non-threatening you found the guy.

You smoothed his white hair back, checking his hairline for a cut. You hummed to yourself as you worked, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into you like he was trying to see into your very soul. You dabbed at the small wound with an antiseptic cotton ball. He didn’t even flinch.

“Alright, it’s not bleeding anymore, so just take this off when you get home,” you told him as you put a new bandage on him. It was just to make sure no debris got in as he walked back, but you doubted it would be a problem. He nodded idly, cheeks in his hands as he leaned on the counter. You left him to his thoughts for a moment while you put the first aid kit away.

“So, is the silent treatment part of your… character?” Your voice knocks him back to reality. He looks out the windows for a moment, before he leans a bit closer to you. You mimic him, bracing your arms on the counter so you two were within whisper distance.

“I can’t be seen talking, yes. I’ve appreciated all your help, my dear.” His voice was deep- low and smooth. You were caught off guard, expecting a more… stereotypical voice, you supposed. But, if he was off the clock, no reason to put on a voice at all. Especially if his whole bit is that he was silent. You nodded.

“It’s no problem, mister…?” You not-so-subtly prompted him for his name. He stood, bowing a bit theatrically and winking at you with those glowing orange eyes. The contacts he had were insane. You were jealous.

“I’m the Pierrot, a pleasure to meet you!” He stood up as you held a hand out. Pierrot stared for a moment, eyes widening, before he grasped your hand like you were porcelain. You squeezed his, amused, as you shook his hand. You gave him your name in return. The sharp claws on his gloves tickled your skin as he held you loosely.

“You don’t quite look like a Pierrot- Is it to fit into the whole… horror circus theme?” you asked as you released his hand, vaguely gesturing to his outfit as you spoke. He nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re very observant, my dear. We had to modernize my attire as the circus changed, but my role remains the same.” You knew a bit about the commedia dell’arte from your late night fixation studies over the years. How the Pierrot was a sad, lovestricken fool and what a Pierrot’s act would usually entail. It made sense, now, as to why he couldn’t be seen speaking.

“Well, now that we can talk, I hope that second bout of blood wasn’t from another fight. You alright after this morning?” You reached up as you spoke, peeling off the loosening bandage from his cheek. His face reddened again, but he nodded.

“I’m fine. Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for people to be unsettled by my appearance. Physical altercations happen from time to time,” he admitted, albeit like it was just an everyday thing. You could get being freaked out by clowns, but to full-on attack people for dressing like that was outrageous.

“Do the other performers hand out flyers, too? Are you the only Pierrot at the circus?” You hoped he wasn’t bothered by the questions. From how delighted he seemed just by talking with you, though, you were pretty sure he was fine. You couldn’t help but be excited. You loved theatrics of any kind, ever since you were little and you watched trapeze artists on a trip to the circus with your family. You guessed you had a soft spot for circus performers more.

“The circus is a small cast, so yes. I am the only Pierrot. The others are Jesters and… Harlequins,” he explained, gaining a bit of a sneer at the second name as he rolled his eyes. You wondered if that was part of the act as well, or if the guy playing the Harlequin was just a dickhole.

“So, since you’re the Pierrot, are you the only quiet one?” You went back to idly cleaning the counters and workstations as you asked. You knew he couldn’t linger too much longer, and you had to get home soon. You heard his bells jingle as he nodded.

“Yes! You catch on quickly, my dear. But, I do make an exception when it’s just the two of us,” he beamed, sitting back down at the counter. You could feel his eyes follow your every move. You felt yourself get flustered.

“Well, I’ll keep your secret safe, big guy.” You winked at him. Pierrot fidgeted in his seat. You snickered slightly as you finished up. You turned to tell him that it was time to go when he seemed to remember something. He pulled something out of his pocket. A deep red ticket- another token of his appreciation, he said. You were flattered. You pulled out the pink one sheepishly.

“I appreciate it, but someone else gave me one earlier,” you said. Pierrot got deathly serious, however, as his eyes widened. He held the hand out for the ticket. Confused, you handed it over. With a flourish of his hand, the pink turned to red. You couldn’t help but laugh at the trick as he handed the red one to you. You relented and took the red ticket.

“A Pierrot and a magician? Talented man, you are. What was wrong with the pink one?” You put the ticket in with your phone. Pierrot blushed at the praise.

“The ticket was a fake- you’d have been rejected at the entrance. Never accept tickets from anyone that isn’t affiliated with the circus, dear,” he explained. You frowned slightly, wondering what the benefit was to just giving away a fake ticket. If the guy had sold it to you, that’d be shitty but at least he’d have gotten your money. Maybe he was just fucking around.

“Well, at least I got a real one. I was wanting to go anyway- see what your act was all about, if it got people that worked up,” you admitted as you gathered up a box of leftover cookies. He seemed giddy at the fact you wanted to come see him. Maybe he was an unpopular act.

“I assure you, I’ll make you smile during my performance.” The guy was almost vibrating with excitement. It was cute how eager he was to show off his routine. You couldn’t help but smile as you set the box of cookies down in front of him.

“Looking forward to it! Now, I gotta lock up and go- you shouldn’t be in here to begin with- but… Since you didn’t come by for that secret cookie today, you can take these back. Share what you can with the troupe, maybe.” You patted the box, before rounding the counter to prepare to leave. He picked up the box carefully, like it was precious, but you could see disappointment in his eyes.

“Thank you, dear. And I had wanted to come, but I did not wish to cause you any distress.” He followed you to the door. You shrugged in response. You just assumed he had gotten too busy. You doubted YOU would’ve been in distress, though. Your customers and your boss… Maybe it was better that he came by so late.

“You wouldn’t have bothered me. On the bright side, now I know we wouldn’t be able to talk in public. And you got more than one cookie.” You opened the door for him with a little laugh. He hummed in agreement, scanning the area for people as he stepped out. You shut the lights off and locked the cafe door. You maneuvered the keys between your fingers again as you put your hand in your pocket. You looked around, eyes flicking from the dark alley across the way and up the street.

You bid him a goodnight, heading off toward your apartment building. You heard his bells jingle as he walked off. When you looked back and saw he was gone, you pulled your hand back out of your pocket. Keys on display, you hurried off down the street. Your phone rang, making you jump. With an annoyed huff, you answered without even looking at the caller id.

“So you do still have this number.” The voice on the other end made you stop mid step. You clutched the keys tighter, frantically looking around as if he was right next to you. You swallowed thickly.