#angstyyyy

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The air was tense, so thick as though the mere concept were wrapped in cellophane and placed over an open mouth. You felt nervous, tapping at the table until your nails chipped into parallel lines on the cheap linoleum surface in a perfectly monotonous rhythm. Tap-Tap-Tip, Tap-Tap-Tip, your song went, over and over. Harlequin’s back was to you as he carefully placed your dinner in the microwave; a skill he’d only learned from you after much trial and error and a few small explosions. Normally, you would have teased him while simultaneously praising Harlequin on being able to use a microwave like a functioning adult. Unfortunately, today was not a day for cheer, it hadn’t been honestly for over a month now.

The clown’s movements were strangely silent despite the pinging sounds of the microwave buttons, though you could feel the tightening of his muscles even if his arms couldn’t be seen under those baggy sleeves. Tap-Tap-Tip, Tap-Tap-Tip, you played your music again, louder this time while debating on whether not you wanted him to turn around.

You knew he wouldn’t be pleased with your decision, the selfishly short-sighted human desire to remain as you were (or at least that’s what the menace yelled at you earlier that day). His words stung as though you swallowed hot pizza grease, melting the flesh on the roof of your mouth. Harlequin, if nothing else, was good at making your blood boil, even if you had hoped he’d understand after everything you two had been through. Still, this was all getting rather ridiculous, right? Why wouldn’t he face you already? Say SOMETHING? The food was already in the microwave and yet all Harlequin could do was stare as it slowly heated up. His back to you, eyes never moving even once to glance back.  

Tap-Tap-Tip.

Tap-Tap-Tip…

TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!!!

“Careful, dearest,” Harlequin tsked, while still not turning around, “you might chip a nail.”

You bit your lip at that; clenching your fists before turning to face him. The chair you sat at screeched against the tiled floor of the trailer in a way that made him wince, eyes shaking like windchimes as you spoke.

“I don’t know why you’re punishing me like this, Harlequin!”

The menace finally faced you, albeit slowly with a puzzled expression, “Punish….you?”

“You know what I mean! I just—look, I don’t think it’s selfish to want to stay alive with my family,” you finally stood up, lip curling. “I don’t have much family left, and I know we haven’t seen them much while on the road, but….I just can’t watch them die while—I-!”

“You can’t watch THEM die!? Selfish creature! Horrible! How do you think I--” he screeched.

Harlequin bristled at your words, mouth parting showing his true serrated teeth in an all too familiar sneer. You expected him to continue his thought like he’d done all month, the same argument, over and over. The monotony was tiring, straining, you could barely share a bed with him anymore because of all this mess, because of that specific day. A day where you both made a discovery that changed everything.

Absolutely everything…

Thus, you expected him to continue, to fight on, to try again and again to change your stubborn mind, however, he did not. Shockingly, Harlequin closed his mouth at you as he turned to face the still cooking dinner plate in the microwave. The corners of his mouth twitched downward indicating his displeasure but the choice to remain silent confused you the most. The tension remained like left over germs in the air from a sneeze, but your own anger ebbed somewhat at the sight of his drooping shoulders. Almost as though, he'd given up? Was....Was he….was he finally seeing things your way?

“Look,” you said gently, reaching out to Harlequin as he stood in front of the microwave, “I know I’m hurting you, I get it. It’s just….that weird root Doctor discovered…. I—I can’t, okay. Something about it just doesn’t feel right….”

Harlequin remained still, noting that your dinner would take less than a minute to finish, unmoved.

You pressed on however, smiling slightly while approaching the clown carefully, “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you forever, you know I do---but he’s barely tested it and my cousin just had another baby—I mean what? I’ll be young while that kid gets liver spots? I wouldn’t be able to see them again if I was---Look, we just don’t know what will happen and—fuck!”

His brow twitched at your cursing, yet he remained still.

“….Harlequin, please just understand, let’s not fight anymore, okay?”

Your plea ended on the ring of the microwave, trailing higher into the air as the siren sang. Two more screeches from the incessant machine occurred before Harlequin pushed the button to open the door, taking your hot plate without any need for mitts or a towel. You thought you lost, all was lost, until the menace looked at you—finally and fully. Harlequin grinned, for the first time you’d seen outside a show. The sight made your heart beat faster, eyes wide as he held your plate with one hand; the other reaching over to pat you on the head.

“You’re right,” Harlequin’s smile grew smaller, solemn, “let’s not fight, dearest. You’ve made your choice.”

A fold of skepticism wrinkled your brow however, “Does this mean that you accept---?”

Your eyes grew hopeful despite this feeling, that was however before the penetrating odor of your dinner reminded you of how hungry you were and your body made it clear you needed to eat.

Harlequin chuckled at your growling stomach’s loud interruption.

“Eat, my love. I have made peace with it….just as you wanted.”

Smiling, you gently took the hand he’d placed on your head and held it to your face. Turning slightly to kiss the palm, you winked at him before sitting down.

“I know it will be hard,” you sighed while adjusting your chair, “but we have a lot of time left together, so much time. I promise, we will make the most of every day, like we first planned!”

Harelquin nodded to you, placing your plate gently on the table, listening intently as you continued.

“Oh! What about visiting that weird museum up the road?” you gushed while grabbing a fork. “You know, the one with the supposed ‘world’s largest dildo’? Eh? Don’t you wanna see that? Bet you do, perv.”

The clown chuckled lowly at that before situating himself behind you to, what you assumed, wash the dishes that remained in the sink. It was after all his turn on the chore wheel, not that Harlequin was ever eager to get his work done. Still, you shrugged and stuck the fork into plate, trying to think of other things you two could do this week. More distractions to help Harlequin take his mind off of the inevitable.

Taking a bite you spoke between chewing (giving silent thanks that TicketTaker wasn’t nearby to scold you for such bad manners), “Hm, or we could do that prank you always wanted?”

“Hm,” Harlequin spoke, his voice seemed closer to your ear than expected, “the one where we switch the salt and the sugar while Pierrot cooks? Or the one where we tell him he has a secret admirer?”

You took another bite, coughing a little at the spice before facing him, “Yeah—I mean, the sugar one obviously. I don’t ‘like’ pranking Pierrot, but I think that one wouldn’t scar him for life at least...”

The clown hummed as you continued coughing. Shaping your free hand into a fist you pounded your chest, trying to get the last bit of meat to go down, though strangely it didn’t feel as though you were choking; at least not in the normal sense. Something for sure was in your throat but also not in your throat. A lump of some sort, strange and big, almost, growing? You began coughing some more, harder until you felt gentle claws on your shoulders hold you down. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes as you reached for the water next to you, though Harlequin held you back, firmly.

“Wh—? Harle--! Hel—p!” you tried to ask, though no words could come out of the swelling in your throat.

Harlequin shushed you, even as you squirmed under his steady grip. His words causing ice to trail between the cracks of your skin as though forming a varicose pattern of eerie chill that you somehow knew would never leave your body.

“It will all be over soon, dearest.”

Your tongue touched the ends of your cheeks as a familiar taste began to turn the gears in your head. You recalled last month or two, Doctor’s lab, the root he found, the discovery he made. The taste of it, bitter and sweet at the same time, as he had it touch the roof of your mouth, healing a cut Harlequin had made by accident when you both got a little too ‘frisky’ one night. Harlequin’s obsession, his eyes, how they rounded and dilated in ways you’d never seen before after The Doctor explained what it was.

Choking in his arms, the menace held you tighter even as you fell out of the chair and onto the dirty tiled floor of the circus trailer. Kicking and coughing, you knew were all in vein as Harlequin’s grip was far stronger than anything you could muster even if you were running on pure adrenaline. His poisonous words scar the edges of your ear as he speaks.

“Weakness, yes….I am weak,” he grunted as you struggled still against him, hitting him slightly in the chest. “I won’t ask you to forgive me….I know you won't.”

Fuck him. You knew why he was doing this. Some part of your heart reached towards him, wanting to hold Harlequin close, caress his hair, kiss his tears, and tell him that you understand. The problem was, of course, that you did understand, perfectly. It all made sense as to why he was doing all this, but that didn’t make his decision hurt any less.

After all, what sort of future could you have together if he was incapable of respecting your choices?

Couldn’t he do this again? Wouldn’t he?

Your love for him was strong, burning, acidic in texture and built off of old pain. Despite this, you knew deep down that nothing could fix what had been broken just now. Nothing would be the same again, and Harlequins next words only proved as such; causing you to sob in his suffocating embrace as your aching body left you no other choice.

“I’m not sorry. It had to be done.”

Finally, you felt the swelling in your throat die down.

The inferno calmed and no longer were you gasping, begging for water. In fact, you did not need it. Your body was stiff; skin tightened as though stretched and massaged on a rolling pin before being gently placed back on your bones. Harlequin held you to him, the embrace made you want to vomit, curse his name, and scream. Scream so loud that even Jester would have to agree to put you down. It was horrible, how could he? How could he?!

Worst of all, you noticed as the menace’s lips grazed the top of your head, tears falling down your cheeks in rage, was the lack of something.

You choked, “I-Hate you! How-could—”

“That’s fine! All fine! Hate me, please hate me,” Harlequin stopped your words, squeezing you tighter, emerald eyes hollow and desperate not that you could see. “I will take whatever you give, my dearest, hate or otherwise, now that I have all the time in the world to make it up to you.”

It was cruel, horrible, you could see the wrinkles forming on your family's dimming faces as he spoke. The newborn baby of your cousin slowly sinking into the ground with every kiss Harlequin gave, every time you felt his claws on your skin. The way time would pass you by in an unnatural and unforgiving way was almost too unbearable to conceive of. Gods, humans, and monsters alike would never be able to place you—you had no one. Not even Harlequin. Everything was worse now, but despite this you grimaced as you began to regain feeling in your new immortal body. A sensation that had been forever unknown to you; cruel, sadistic magic that lends itself to this emotion you knew you shouldn’t feel. Especially not after the pain you’d just gone through, both physically and emotionally. The joints in your body however juxtaposed what you were feeling on the inside; they were smooth, skin supple, hair healthy. All of this pointed towards the growing dread that bubbled in the cauldron of your stomach upon realizing:

You had never felt better in your entire life.

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They thought they’d live forever. Thought they’d survive anything. But now Vlad’s memories are foggy. Some days he recognizes Danny as they had first met. Some days he doesn’t recognize him at all.

Most often he seems normal. But they both know his memory is getting worse. There’s no cure, even Clockwork said that this is what the course of time would always be. Inevitible. No one is safe from time. Not humans nor ghost nor something in between. They’re always been aging. Just a lot slower.

So Danny cares for him. Even when he starts to pace around the lab and yell for *Danielle* or Jack or Maddie. Even when he turns into Plasmius to fight him because he doesn’t remember that they’re not enemies anymore. Danny stays by him.

One day Clockwork comes by. Danny’s confused but he warns him that Vlad’s end is near. Of course, Danny knows that. He can tell in the way that Vlad’s eyes linger far off on nothing for too long. How his smiles have become more of a habit than anything recognizable. How he would hesitate to kiss him, because of course he isn’t quite sure who he is or where he is.

Danny knew. Clocks didn’t have to tell him.

Clockwork gives him a medallion. Something temporary he was working on. It wasn’t a solution but it would allow Vlad’s mind to turn back for only a single day. Turn back to before the memory loss.