Guide to break up with your clown-monster boyfriend: STEP 1, you don’t.
Summary: Scenarios of how I imagine the TFC characters would react if you asked them to break up. Pairing: Harlequin x (gender neutral) reader
[Ticket Taker] [Jester] [Doctor]
Content not suitable for minors, please do not interact with me or my content if you are under 18!!
Warnings: descriptions of cannibalism (does it count as cannibalism if they’re from two different species? e.e) infidelity (does it count as infidelity if they’re already separated? Nothing explicit or given much importance, but I know the idea might bother some people…) thoughts and suicide attempt
If any of the above is a dealbreaker for you, I think it’s best not to read this chapter.
You can read it on AO3 too! :D
Harlequin: The Nightmare That Never Ends
For as long as Harlequin can remember, love was more of a concept, a word you might overhear in a conversation that had nothing to do with you, or come across in a book, something as real and attainable as bringing the moon down from the sky.
Yes, love was not something for Harlequin, it was something forbidden, something that beings like him had no right to experience.
That's what he thought at first...
Until theymade him see that it wasn't exactly like that.
They could feel love and have it, even though they were the same as him…
So, it wasn't that he didn't deserve love because he was born a monster.
He didn't deserve love because he was born like him…
It wasn't the monsters who didn't have the right to love.
It was Harlequin, only Harlequin, who had no right.
Why?
Why?
Why?
If the three of them were the same...
What made those two worthy of love, but not him?
That's what drove him crazy, the first time.
A Harlequin who didn't know the taste of love would settle for the closest thing he could find.
A snack whose main ingredients were jealousy, envy, and hatred. It would have to be enough to fill the void in his stomach that he'd felt since the moment he came into this world. (Even if it was akin as to eat rotten flesh)
Hunger, hunger, hunger
Since he came into this world, that was the only thing he had known, the only thing that hadn't left him alone no matter how much time passed.
The painful, heart-wrenching feeling of a constant emptiness that threatened to consume him from within—that’s why Harlequin was always searching, searching for something to fill that void.
Famine almost killed the little Harlequin's heart.
To think that, when he first met that person, a new emotion stirred within him, and for a moment he almost thought that this person would be the answer, the one who would put an end to his endless hunger.
It wasn't…
That person ended up choosing to fulfill someone else rather than him, and, to make matters worse, they even seemed to enjoy rubbing the succulent dish of love that he could never have in his face.
Harlequin was no stranger to hunger, and although he was used to feeling it, to enduring the constant burning in the pit of his stomach that would sometimes overwhelm him, he too had his limits.
One day, when his hunger was so intense that he felt he was going mad, he decided to take it by force, that sweet dish called “love,” the one that had constantly been denied to him. He stole it, clutching that delicacy between his sharp, dirty claws, and
Devour it
The scream,
The screams.
They were almost bursting his ears, but they didn't hurt more than the hunger, so he continued eating.
Down to the last piece.
What he had longed for so much was finally on his lips, in his mouth, in his throat, in his stomach.
But if you asked him his honest opinion, it had been a total disappointment.
The consistency was so hard and difficult to swallow, it was so viscous that it got stuck in his throat, almost making him vomit; the taste was too bitter and too salty.
And the worst part of all
He wasn’t full.
He wasn’t full at all.
He still felt empty.
Probably
Much emptier than he had ever felt in his entire life.
Years passed, and as if in mockery, Harlequin dressed himself in envy, wrapping himself in vivid green and covering himself from head to toe in hearts, the universal emblem of love.
But at whom was the mockery aimed? At the world, which persistently withheld what he longed for, or at himself, doomed to bear upon him a constant remainder of what he could never possess?
Many things changed in his life, but one thing remained constant: his endless quest to satisfy his hunger.
An endless line of innocent and stupid lambs passed by his bed.
By his table.
He devoured them, each and every one, with passion and zeal.
But not a single one was enough to fill him.
And then you appeared.
At first you were no different from the others; he wasn't interested in knowing your name, nor in remembering the features of your face.
You'd be nothing more than a snack.
Luckily, a dessert.
The real main course, the main dish, would be the face of that pathetic and stupid red clown when he saw how once again his lovely sweetheart would be nothing but a small appetizer that would get lost deep in his entrails.
Just imagining his pathetic sobs and cries, so similar to those of that night, made his heart race and his body tremble with euphoria.
Harlequin couldn't help but lick his lips and feel his mouth water just imagining the expression of pain and despair on that miserable Pierrot's face.
If he was lucky…
If he was lucky, then maybe the damned silent monster would finally have the guts to rip out his heart and bring this existence of endless emptiness come to a close.
He would soon have you, oh little butterfly who had the misfortune of stumbling right into his web.
The Harlequin danced with the idea of making you his final meal, so without wasting any more time he used every one of his tricks to make you fall into his jaws.
Oh…but when in his life has anything ever gone as Harlequin had planned? Certainly not this time…
For some strange reason that even after years he didn't understand.
You never ran away from him.
On the contrary, it was often you who sought him out.
You never avoided his touch.
You reciprocated, and even initiated it.
Like a little deer willingly walking straight into a bear trap.
The plan to trap you in his clutches had worked…
It had worked better than he had planned. He could see the look of despair and suffering on that idiot Pierrot's face every time you chose to go to the green tent instead of his red one. He could hear him crying pathetically in his bed when, once again, you chose to play a prank on the Ticket Taker with Harlequin instead of preparing a stupid recipe with Pierrot. Yes, how he must have savored the expression of anguish and complete bitterness that the silent clown made every time you seemed to go looking for him just to ask, "Have you seen Harlequin? Can you tell me where he is?"
Yes, something like that must have been delicious…so why didn't he care about any of that? Why was he more focused on your face lighting up with excitement and happiness at witnessing his play? why he was more excited to tell you his plans to play a prank on the Ticket Taker? and then enjoy your silly face when he decided to betray you and blame it all on you, laugh at you, but then come looking for you and try to make you happy again, not because he particularly cared if you were angry with him or because he was afraid you would hate him afterward…it's just that sometimes there were pranks that required two people and you were the best (his only) option (besides, it was fun to use you as a scapegoat because you never seemed to learn your lesson, no matter how many times you got into trouble because of him, and how much you pretended to be mad at him, a few jokes, a few tricks, a few flowers he had found by chance , and you would forgive him, and everything was fine again, it was fun…it was fun to see how silly you could be…)
Suddenly, without realizing it, Harlequin found himself preferring to focus on enjoying each of your expressions rather than Pierrot's. At some point, it wasn't about making Pierrot miserable anymore. It was just about you. About you, and him.
He had a great time being by your side.
And you seemed to enjoy his company.
When he realized that…he got scared.
Scared…
Him!
How ridiculous and contradictory! Wasn't this what he wanted?
But how did you expect him to react? It was the first time anything like that had happened; He had no idea what to do in such a situation. It was strange, uncharted territory.
Perhaps deep down he hoped a situation more like that previous time would repeat itself; he was the one who acted, the one who made the first move, the one who approached, the one who seduced, the one who would snatch you from Pierrot's arms and then devour you right in front of him, leaving Pierrot powerless to stop it. But what could he do if his supposed prey threw themselves into his jaws, when it was the mouse chasing the cat, the one responding to every touch, or even stranger, the one initiating them?! With you, everything was always the opposite; somehow you turned his whole world upside down, defying all his expectations time and again, and that…that terrified Harlequin, more than he ever cared to admit.
Of course, he would never say it out loud or admit it to anyone (he even had trouble admitting it himself), but there was no other way to explain why, after that realization, he started avoiding you, running away from you, pushing you away with unpleasant behaviors.
Harlequin's mind was in chaos; on one hand, he wanted to cling to you (damn, his hunger shot up every time he saw you, his stomach twisted in strange ways when he was near you, and your scent...yes, your scent, which he could detect from miles away, which he could distinguish even if you were lost in a sea of people, he would be able to single you out among them all, a scent so unique and delicious that made his heart race every time you were near, all that was because he was desperate to put you in his mouth, obviously...)
The other part of him never wanted to see you again. Sometimes he thought about simply killing you so he wouldn't have to be tormented by your presence ever again, but every time he even considered something like that, he felt a chill; something inside him screamed, and he could feel a sharp, intense pain in his chest, as if something were being violently torn from him, something important. An unpleasant sensation he still didn't understand, or perhaps didn't want to understand.
So, one day, when he no longer knew where else to run and you were tired of him running away, Harlequin made a somewhat impulsive decision, feeling cornered.
He decided to pull out his last trick, hoping that this would make you leave (or hopefully, stay?).
He took off his mask and stepped closer to the light, and let you see him, all of him.
If everything worked as it should, your face should have contorted into a grimace of terror, a heart-wrenching scream must have escaped your throat, you should have cursed him, insulted him, attacked him, cried, vomited, trembled, fainted, fled; any of those actions was to be expected, what he was used to.
Instead, you approached him (he tried to take a step back, but was stopped by the walls behind him).
You, with the gentleness of someone interacting with a frightened animal, touched his face, your thumbs repeatedly caressing his cheeks.
"it's okay, it's okay, there's no need to cry" you said gently.
There's no need to cry?
There's no need to cry?!
Who was crying?!
Him?
No…
That couldn't be possible.
But strangely, it was so; there seemed to be tears overflowing from his eyes.
Tears…
No, this shouldn't be the case…
Why…
“No…I don’t understand, this shouldn’t be like this, why didn’t you run away? Why aren’t you afraid? Have you seen what I am yet?”
“Oh Harley, how could I be afraid of someone who’s more scared than me?” You took his hands in yours, trying to stop the trembling in his body
Scared?
Who?
Was he the one who was scared?
Yes, it seemed he was the one trembling, the one crying, the one who wanted to scream, the one who wanted to run away, maybe even faint…
The big bad wolf was being comforted in Little Red Riding Hood's arms.
But what a laughable situation! If someone had told this to the Harlequin in the past, he would have laughed until he was breathless and then sent the person to the Doctor's tent to have their head opened and examined to see what part of their brain could contain so much stupidity and nonsense.
You had taken the perfect world of Harlequin logic and turned it upside down; you had taken each of his beliefs, the foundations that had governed his entire life, and shattered them one by one.
And he was afraid, but even if he wanted to flee once more, your arms (those fragile arms that a beast like him could surely break with the slightest effort) somehow held him captive, and wouldn't let go. Yes, he was afraid, but on the other hand, he had never felt such peace. It was the most comfortable cage he had ever been in.
And suddenly, he wanted to stay locked in that cage created by your body, forever.
And suddenly, the burning in his chest that spread to the pit of his stomach, and that constantly threatened to eat him from the inside out until nothing but an empty shell remained, had ended.
The tangle of fog that always surrounded his mind suddenly dissipated.
Because for the first time in his life, since he came into this world crying of hunger, he felt full.
.
.
.
Perhaps that's why, when he heard the words "let's end this relationship" come out of your mouth, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't once again lost in one of his recurring nightmares where you left him.
If everything went as usual, he would wake up and you would be beside him in bed. After asking if he was alright and if he'd had another nightmare, you would gently pull him to your chest, wrapping your arms around him. He would try to resist a little, as always, pretending everything was fine, but you knew better; you always did. You would give him a soft kiss on the forehead; the sound of your heartbeat would soothe him and quiet his fears, one by one.
But this time you weren't next to him in bed; you were both standing, facing each other.
Harlequin pinched himself once more, this time harder, possibly even bruising himself, but for some reason he was still there.
It was true that over the past few months you'd suddenly been behaving a bit strangely, as if you were distancing yourself from him. When he tried to find out why, you'd get defensive and end up in arguments that would cause you to stop speaking for days.
Harlequin didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to get very anxious about it. He didn't understand the reason for your behavior, but he wanted to convince himself that it was just a phase, that the thing that terrified him more than anything in the world wouldn't come true. No. It couldn't be, not when you'd promised him a thousand times that you'd never abandon him, not even after death.
Fights between you weren't uncommon, but they usually never lasted long (and the best part was the wild, reconciliatory sex that followed). Although he hated to admit it, most of your fights were almost always caused by him, so he thought he'd done something stupid again that hurt your feelings; it's just that he couldn't remember exactly what it was…
If you wanted him to apologize, you should already know that was never going to happen. Harlequin would rather have you drive two red-hot iron bars into his chest than admit he was wrong or apologize. But that didn't mean he wanted to lose you or that you would stay angry with him forever. So he tried several things to win you back. Each one worse than the last, it seemed, because with each attempt you seemed more and more distant. And now, here were the consequences…
Maybe he should take a step back and simply say, “I'm sorry”?
No. There had to be another way. Maybe you were just overreacting. Maybe it was your age, or maybe it was that, driving you to say things you didn't mean. He just had to calm you down and bring you to your senses. (Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at that.)
Harlequin sighed and gave a small cold laugh.
“Come on, are you still mad about that? It was just a little joke, you don’t need to take everything so personally, you drama queen.” Harlequin approached you, trying to touch you (God, he really needed to touch you right now, to hold you as tightly as possible, to make sure you couldn’t escape, to make sure he wouldn’t lose his mind).
“No, Harlequin,” you avoided his touch and took several steps back. “It’s not just because of that, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. This relationship isn’t going to work.”
"This relationship isn't going to work?" That was HIS fucking line for the first few years of the relationship, but you always found some stupid reason to contradict him, to hold on to him, so why now?
Why the hell did you wait so long to come out with this now?!
He had given you so many ways out of this relationship before, but you didn't want any of them.
Was your plan to wait until he was completely attached to you, so that the level of satisfaction in leaving him would be at its maximum?
It's a shame that at this point you had so much control over him that he was going to completely ignore it and give you another chance.
“Darling, I know you’re angry right now or maybe just tired, and that’s why you’re saying silly things, but don’t worry, I’m an understanding lover. Just apologize and we’ll forget this ever happened.” Harlequin tried to approach once more, this time wanting to take one of the strands of your hair that had turned white some time ago, but you avoided him again.
Oh, you really knew how to drive him mad.
“No, Harlequin, I’m tired. It’s always the same with you. I can’t take it anymore. I think you know very well that, as a human, I don’t get younger every day. Damn it, Harlequin, years trapped in this unequal relationship where all we do is fight every three days, and I…” You took a moment to breathe and try to organize your thoughts. You had to think very carefully about what you were going to say next. You wanted to hurt him as little as possible, to end the relationship on good terms (was that even feasible? It was contradictory and foolish of you not to want him to hate you, despite everything). It’s a shame you were never really good with words.
“And I…at first, yes, I enjoyed it, you know, the novelty, the eccentricity, it was all fun…when I was young. But I'm getting older and…it's not the same anymore. I don't want the instability that only you know how to give, I need certainty, something real…it's something I know you'll never be able to give me. And I would never ask you for it, I know you can't change who you are, and that's okay, I loved it once in the past…but not anymore.”
"So... why? Why wait so long?"
"I already told you, I just... tastes change over time, you know?"
“No, I don’t understand…”
"Well, look, it happens with everything. A few years ago, I was fascinated by eating that extra spicy ramen, remember? But now I can't swallow it without feeling like I'll be sent to the hospital with heartburn, haha. And a few months ago, I loved the fragrance that jasmine released at night, now I can't smell it without wanting to throw up... Well, it works the same way with people. I just…” You paused; you knew that what you were about to say would haunt you for the rest of your life. “Don’t love you anymore”
"So, is that it? Am I comparable to a simple flower? To a simple dish that you no longer like and can leave behind without any repercussions?"
“Hey, look at it this way, you’re still pretty young, aren’t you? Doesn’t that just mean you have more options? Why settle for just one? I bet you’re already… bored with me. We’re only together out of habit, but if you really think about it…”
"No" said Harlequin with a straight face.
"No?"
You usually understood very well how Harlequin truly felt, sometimes even better than he did, so much so that it was almost frightening. But not this time. Suggesting that he no longer loved you…
You weren't acting like yourself at all, and Harlequin was starting to think that maybe you were under some kind of mind control or had been replaced by another entity.
Any other reason was much better than thinking that you were actually saying as many stupid things as you are now.
Well…you always said stupid things, but they were usually funny.
These? These were pathetic and irritating.
“I’m not like you. I don’t get bored with things. I’ve loved spicy food since the first time I tried it, and I still love it. The smell of jasmine was one of the first pleasant aromas I ever experienced, and it’s been my favorite ever since. I know there are more, but I don’t need others. Why would I? I’m already happy with what I know.”
"Well then, I'll just say that you're a big, foolish harlequin. You're missing out on so many opportunities and experiences... Besides, that's not who you are. You? The harlequin who can't sit still, who always needs something new and exciting? Will you stay stuck forever with the first option? I don't find that believable."
You approached him and touched his shoulder, perhaps trying to comfort him, perhaps to prevent things from ending so badly, to convince him that this was the best option
“Listen to me, I know it sounds crazy now, but when I finally leave your life, and you’re free again, you’ll realize I’m doing you a favor…and you’ll thank me for it.”
?
??
???
?????????
When the "I'm just kidding" doesn't arrive.
When the burning in his eyes and the pressure in his chest felt too real to be a dream, he lunged at you. He caught you in his arms, hoping perhaps to become a cage from which you couldn't escape, just as you had done that day. That cage from which he still didn't want to leave, but from which you had already opened the door.
Just like that day, he cried. Just like that day, he begged you, only this time instead of asking you to leave, he begged you to stay.
But you always did everything backwards.
You seemed to enjoy contradicting him.
Your screams for him to let you go eventually caught the attention of his companions, who had to use all their strength to tear you from his arms.
They took you out of the place.
And Harlequin stayed there.
He stayed there, for a long time,
Minutes, hours, days?
How long had it been without changing position? He was still on his knees, still trying to feel you in his arms.
Harlequin pinched his arm again.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
He was still here.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
Harlequin was a fool, you made him one…or perhaps he always had been and was only now accepting it.
From afar he watched you continue with your life, hoping to find a small opening, something that would allow him to enter your life again, to win you back.
Harlequin was a fool, and fools had hope.
That's why he waited…
But lately you loved destroying him in the least creative and most annoying ways possible.
You had become closer than usual to Pierrot and the Doctor.
You spent almost all your time in the Doctor's tent, and when you had to go out there was that damned rabid dog Pierrot, who made sure to keep you as far away from him as possible.
What did all that mean?
Was this how it was supposed to be?
Harlequin saw it coming from Pierrot, but from the Doctor?
Harlequin tried to talk to him; he needed information if he wanted you back.
But that damned bird had turned out to be just as bad, or maybe worse, than Pierrot. (It seems he had lost not only his love, but also the closest thing he had to a friend in this circus, which only made the experience more bitter)
The patience and hope within him began to wilt with the passing of the days, the months…
And that familiar hunger, that deep emptiness he had been born with and which had seemed impossible to fill until you appeared, began to torment him again.
He could feel the familiar, bitter aftertaste of the poison filling his mouth.
Would he be forced to feed on hatred, jealousy, and envy all over again? The thought terrified him.
When he didn't know the taste of love, it was okay, he could do it, but now?
It was like forcing a person to eat garbage after feeding them a feast for years, day after day.
Everything eventually fell apart when one day he couldn't find you anymore, you were no longer inside the circus, and after an exhaustive search he discovered that possibly, you were no longer even inside the city.
He demanded an answer from each member of the group, but when none were willing to respond, he lost control.
He supposed it didn't help much to see Pierrot's mocking expression, nor the way he seemed to know something he didn't. Did he know where you were hiding? Even though he tried to beat the answer out of him, all he managed to get out of that damned red clown was, "They are in a better place, as far away from you as possible, finally!" Harlequin saw red and, oh! How he'd developed a real aversion to that color lately. All he could think about was making it disappear. He'd never experienced this intense need to destroy something in his life. Even Pierrot was somewhat astonished by the amount of strength the green monster seemed to have obtained out of nowhere. Usually, he alone would have been enough to bring Harlequin down, but this time the help of the other members of the circus was necessary to knock down the Harlequin.
Strange, it was almost always Pierrot who had to be restrained by them, the one who would be on the floor screaming right now, the one who would be sedated by the Doctor, perhaps…the two of them were more alike than either of them wanted to admit. That was the last thing he thought after losing consciousness
When he woke up, he was in the Doctor's tent. The Doctor was examining his arm and seemed to have taken the opportunity to heal several wounds that didn't appear to have healed quickly enough, even with his rapid regeneration ability.
“Leave me alone…” Harlequin tried to get him off him several times, but he was still half sedated and could barely move.
"These marks on your arm... Harlequin, since when did you develop the bad habit of pinching your arm? And how many times a day do you do it? Even with the speed we have to regenerate, this arm is extremely damaged."
“What…do…you…care?” Harlequin uttered with difficulty
“Of course I care, I’m your doctor and companion, Harlequin. This is because of that person, isn’t?”
The doctor seemed to hesitate about something, undecided about whether to continue speaking or not. “Harlequin, the truth is…”
But the doctor could not continue, as he was interrupted by the entrance of Pierrot and Jester into the tent.
Pierrot shot the Doctor a disapproving look and motioned for him to step outside so they could talk.
Jester approached the stretcher where Harlequin was lying down.
"How are you?"
“Tô ótimo. Não tá vendo?” Harlequin groaned in pain as Jester grabbed his arm to inspect him.
Jester sighed dejectedly, and looked at him (with pity?? Was that it? Harlequin wasn't sure, but he hated it)
"Just forget about that person, you must have realized by now that they're not worth it, right? Just pretend they're already dead."
Just pretend you were dead?
That meant you were still alive, and as long as you were alive, Harlequin would want to hold onto the hope that one day you would return to him.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
The first few weeks without you had been the hardest; Harlequin was like a living dead man.
he wasn't sleeping
he wasn't eating
And if it were up to him, he wouldn't be breathing either.
Jester and the Doctor were worried about him.
Damn, even Pierrot and the Ticket Tacker were worried about him.
But every time they tried to help him, he drifted away even more.
Like an automaton, he tried to carry on with what remained of his life, mechanically performing each task of the day.
He was distributing pamphlets on the street (one of the activities that hurt him the most, after all, wasn't that what he was doing when he first met you?)
And each time he handed one over to someone, he looked for your face in them, hoping perhaps that the miracle of that time would be repeated again, that he would be able to know you once more…
He was so lost in himself, in his memories and in his pain that he didn't even notice a tomato flying towards his head.
splat!
The sound of the first one, accompanied by the mocking giggles of a bunch of jerks who loved playing the bad boys.
splat!
Another one.
And another.
But Harlequin didn't even try to move.
(When you were still by his side, it had become a kind of spectacle between the two of you, all the juggling and funny ways that Harlequin could think of to escape the human bullies who sometimes appeared to bother him, when with his agility and cunning he managed to dodge the attempts at mockery by the humans and that made you smile, Harlequin felt an immeasurable sense of pride that squeezed his chest, or in other cases, even you yourself would intervene, also in various mischievous and creative ways to ward off the bad attention and intentions of him and the other members of the circus and then, even those bad experiences became fun)
But now his mask and clothes reeked of tomato juice.
And Harlequin had run out of his sharp, witty remarks; he had run out of his acrobatic feats and juggling tricks.
Taking advantage of the fact that there was almost no one in the area, the group of humans managed to drag the clown into an alley, thus avoiding the annoying attention of the authorities.
For the Harlequin of before, escaping such a situation would have been as easy as breathing; even better, he would take advantage of being confined in an alley away from the rest of the population to get rid of those damned vermin without any problems.
But this Harlequin didn't care about anything.
When simply throwing tomatoes became boring, and taking advantage of the fact that there were no witnesses to get them into trouble later, the gang of young people began to use stones.
The game "Stone the creepy clown" quickly became popular…
Humans even started betting on who could throw the most stones or assigning points if they managed to hit certain parts of the body.
Apparently, those who managed to make him bleed would receive extra points.
But even a shower of stones didn't hurt more than the pain he carried inside, and for a few moments Harlequin wished that they would hit him harder, that someone would strike him with enough force in the temple to end this nightmare once and for all.
“Harlequin, don’t do this! Defend yourself! Live!” a voice, the voice he was so afraid of one day forgetting.
Your voice.
Harlequin immediately raised his gaze, searching for you among the faces of mockery, disgust, and fear; none of those belonged to you.
He got up with trembling legs.
Looking for you.
He had to find you.
"Damn, it's moving! Hit it harder!"
The others shouted, but Harlequin ignored them; he was more focused on finding you. He heard you; he was sure you had come back for him. He was sure; you had to be…
But no matter how much he searched, you weren't there.
Had it been an illusion?
Was it a defense mechanism of his to make him fight and not choose to die at that moment?
If that were the case, it wouldn't work.
When he realized you hadn't actually been there, he turned to the humans who, even as they attacked him with whatever objects were at hand, were no more cruel than you
He laughed.
Like a maniac.
All humans remained motionless.
Everyone stopped attacking
“Pathetic…” Harlequin began.
“You’re truly pathetic. Is that all you’ve got? You all have terrible aim, and are you sure you were throwing rocks at me? Because it felt like you were throwing cotton balls at me. Please, gentlemen, I know you’ve got better than that! Come on! Show me what you’ve got! Or are you all just a bunch of weakling failures?”
The reaction of the others was immediate; the group of humans rushed towards him, using everything at their disposal to attack the already bruised clown.
But neither the stones, the sticks, the metal rods, the glass bottles, nor the impact of their weak and fragile human hands and feet were enough…
Although they beat him until they got bored and finally left, as often happened, Harlequin's wish was not granted.
He had not died.
He had only been pathetically wounded and now, like a dying rat, he lay in the middle of an alley, abandoned and forgotten by all. By you.
With eyes that were becoming increasingly difficult to keep open, he continued searching for your face, even in the empty space of the alley.
Of course.
There was no one there.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
Perhaps it was because you'd been watching a lot of cheesy romance movies lately, or because of the public marriage proposals you sometimes witnessed, or because you'd heard that several of your acquaintances had already tied the knot; that you started bringing up the topic of commitment, of the union between you two. At first, not directly, just making small comments here and there like:
“I saw a gorgeous ring today. I stared at it longer than I should have…”
“It’s strange that after all this time together I still call you my boyfriend and not my husband…”
“I’m starting to think maybe you’re allergic to jewelry…”
"You know, my ring finger has felt really empty lately."
"I'm not saying I want a ring...but I wouldn't say no to one either..."
“If someone were to propose to me someday, I think I’d like it to be something simple…”
"Hypothetically speaking...if we ever got married, what do you think our wedding would be like...only hypothetically speaking of course..."
Harlequin wasn't stupid; he knew where you were going with this, but you should have known better. He wasn't the corny or romantic type. He'd never even thought about anything like marriage, hell, before you, he hadn't even thought about things like dating or being considered someone's "boyfriend."
Harlequin thought that things were fine as they were; how much could something silly like a ring or a wedding ceremony change your relationship?
So, he tried to avoid the subject as much as possible…
You realized.
So, one day, when you had decided to run away hoping to escape Jester's wrath (you would return after a while, hoping that perhaps Jester would forget the matter or his anger would subside, both fools never learned their lesson, how many times would you have to repeat the same thing to realize that this would only unleash more of Jester's fury and upon returning to the circus the punishment would be worse? ...hmm...maybe until the hundred and fourth time?).
You sought refuge in a rather hidden part of the city. After passing through a dense, very dark forest; if you could avoid the wild animals (the potential serial killers who used the forest's density to carry out their macabre acts and dispose of their victims??? Or at least that's what Harlequin loved to say) and managed not to get lost in the immense woods, you would eventually reach a crystal-clear river, teeming with beautiful wildflowers. You and Harlequin had decided that this would be your secret hideout (in this city; you always loved finding a new one in every city you visited).
While you were there, resting in the shade of a leafy tree, enjoying the sound of running water and birds singing, you simply decided to say it.
“Harlequin, I want a ring.”
Harlequin was lying down, with both arms behind his head serving as a pillow; his eyes were closed, and he was almost falling asleep, so he just shrugged off your comment.
“Yeah, yeah, okay…next time I get one in my cereal box I’ll give it to you…damn, do they still put that kind of stuff in cereal?”
“No, Harlequin, I want a real ring…one that confirms our union.”
Harlequin got back up and finally turned to look at you
"Confirm our union? Dearest, I thought that fucking you hard every night was the confirmation of our union."
Startled and blushing, you started throwing the acorns scattered around at your shameless lover. “Harlequin! Why do you always have to come out with your perverted nonsense?!”
Harlequin laughed as he dodged your pathetic vegan projectiles, and then he said
“But I really don’t understand, what’s the point of some silly rings? Isn’t it enough that we both know how we feel about each other and that’s it…Minha vida, I never thought you were so insecure…” he said mockingly.
You stared at him; your face expressionless.
Harlequin held your gaze for a moment, until he let out a dejected sigh, gently shaking his head, unable to believe what he was about to do next.
Harlequin held your wrist, brought your ring finger to his lips, gave it a small, soft kiss, then, enveloping it with his tongue, he inserted it into his mouth and you could feel his incisors gently fitting around your finger, taking great care not to hurt you, not to make you bleed, applying just enough force to leave a superficial mark.
“There it is, this is better than any ring.”
You were really focused on looking at the small mark that now adorned your finger.
Harlequin was ready for the argument to continue, for you to keep complaining, telling him this wasn't enough and to stop making fun of you (damn, would you want to break up with him after that? Maybe it wasn't too late to regret it…maybe he could tell you it was a joke and ask you to give him time to get you the ring…yes, he had to say it…before you…)
But instead you just smiled at him and kissed him.
“I love it, it’s perfect, thank you.”
Well, at this point he should be used to you never doing anything he expected…
His fingers tucked that same stray strand of hair back behind your ear, then his fingers moved down to your cheek, and you leaned back at his touch.
Your faces slowly drew closer, until your lips almost touched.
Enveloped in each other's embrace, the kiss grew more intense, the caresses more daring, until without realizing it you were both rolling naked on top of each other.
That was the day Harlequin marked you. (He told you this was how monsters symbolized their bond) a mark on the upper back. Painful? Yes, but worth it if it meant everyone knew you belonged to him, and him alone. If wearing that mark with pride would allow you to show Harlequin how much you loved him, all he meant to you. If just seeing that mark could lessen the fear that sometimes haunted Harlequin's eyes whenever he thought you might abandon him and leave him behind.
The mark on your neck meant that you would always be by his side.
So…
Why did it seem like you had forgotten?
You thought the bite would be all you'd get, and you were perfectly fine with that. After all, you'd suggested the rings in the first place, hoping they'd help ease Harlequin's anxiety about the separation. You knew he'd never tell you, but the nightmares in which you seemed to abandon him appeared to be haunting him more often. (Of course, he'd never told you what his nightmares were about, but it wasn't hard to guess when you woke up nearly suffocated, Harlequin clinging to you, with every limb he could muster. The clearest clue was his tiny, almost inaudible sobs: "Don't leave me..." followed by your name).
You had a slight suspicion that his anxiety had intensified when, in the last city you'd been in, you'd run into some old friends—humans. You'd decided to take advantage of the opportunity, and perhaps you'd spent more time with them than you thought. Maybe he saw you too happy by their side, and that made him afraid. Of course, all of this was just your speculation, but there was no harm in trying, was there?
And besides, damn it! Who were you trying to fool? you also wanted physical proof (whether in the form of a bite or a ring) that you both loved each other and that you would be together forever…
So to say that you were surprised and deeply moved when you woke up on your anniversary to find a small box resting beside you, and upon opening it, a beautiful engagement ring inside, would be an understatement.
You tried it on right away and then ran to find the Harlequin. You urgently needed to see him, to hug and kiss him; if you didn't, you felt like you would explode with all the love you had inside your chest.
At this time he would probably be in his tent rehearsing for his next show, repairing his old puppets or creating new ones.
Indeed, there he was, so completely immersed, carefully painting the face of one of the puppets, that he hardly even noticed your presence.
His attentive expression, his gaze fixed directly on the puppet, his brow furrowed, and his back arched like a shrimp, made you wonder if he was aware of how silly and cute he looked at that moment, if anyone else had seen him like that, with this expression, if anyone else knew about his cute habit of letting the small tip of his forked tongue stick out a little whenever he was this focused (you hoped not, you hoped it was a secret just for you).
You liked this side of him too, the artistic, creative, dedicated side; honestly, you liked all his sides, all of him, even the most annoying and stupid sides.
You loved him.
You loved him…
So why not anymore???? Where did everything go wrong…??
Then you noticed another small detail: on his ring finger rested another ring, matching yours.
Harlequin finally looked up from the doll's face and saw you.
A flirty smile escaped him.
"Hey sleepyhead, look who 's finally decided..." You didn't give him time to finish, not even to react, you pounced on him. He wouldn't have been able to escape even if he'd wanted to.
An agile and fast monster like him had been completely outmatched by a human.
Should he be surprised? Honestly, you always made possible what he thought was impossible.
While you were on top of him, you joined your lips with his.
"Thank you."
A kiss
"Thank you."
Another kiss
Amid the flurry of kisses, Harlequin tried to speak “Thank you? Thank you for what? For being the best and most handsome boyfriend in the universe? For being so funny and creative and always make you laugh? For being the guy who taught you the true art of fucking? For the delicious breakfast I make you every morning? Oh... there are so many things you should thank me for, my dear, that I'm not sure which one you're referring to” he sneered.
You rolled your eyes and gave him a light punch on the shoulder "For the ring, silly!"
“Oh…that? Nah, it’s nothing. I just found them lying around, and since you were being sooo persistent, I decided to bring them along to see if that would get you to stop bugging me…” He turned to look away, still trying to act nonchalant.
Yes, of course, because you find engagement rings in perfect condition lying around in the street.
But you said nothing, because you knew what your lover was like.
He always did something similar…
He claimed he never had a good enough memory to remember silly things like your birthday or anniversaries, but somehow, on those dates, something special always ended up happening.
Whether it was getting exactly the birthday cake you wanted because the bakery had put them on sale and Harlequin had decided to take advantage of the bargain.
Movie tickets for the film you wanted to see because “one of the visitors had decided to give them away” and he didn’t know what else to do with them.
Special events, like ending up on a rooftop with a spectacular view of the city at night, where “coincidentally” there would be a table for two, set with candles and a dinner that suspiciously includes food from your favorite restaurant. With a carefully neutral expression, he would simply say, "Wow, but who would be the idiot who left this here? Whoever did this must have a lot of free time, don’t you think?...But hey! Since we’re already here, we might as well enjoy it and eat!”
Or fireworks appearing out of nowhere to light up the sky during one of your getaways.
The book, perfume, clothes, shoes, (and a long list of etc.) that you wanted, and Harlequin, who somehow always ended up "finding" them by chance somewhere.
“coincidences”
Yes, every single one of them was, according to Harlequin…
He was a fool, emotionally repressed, incapable of being sincere for once even if it costed him his life.
And yet…
“I love you…” At this point in the relationship, you would think Harlequin would be used to hearing it, but every time you said it, it was like the first time: an expression of surprise, as if he couldn't believe it, followed by blushing, and then avoiding your gaze at all costs (perhaps so that you wouldn't notice how his eyes began to glisten).
You took his hand, intertwining it with yours, and dropped a kiss onto the icy surface of his ring.
“I will love you forever…I swear”
.
.
.
Then Harlequin woke up…
That dream had been haunting him repeatedly these past few days; it must be because they had returned to the very same city where everything had happened.
Was that promise...just part of his dream?
Or had you actually broken it?
Harlequin no longer knew clearly what had been real and what were only dreams.
But he did know that now even sweet dreams like that had turned bitter.
Asleep or awake, it made no difference; he was still trapped in a nightmare.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
The first time Harlequin decided to forget you, he decided that to start doing so he would have to make some changes—changes that would begin with getting rid of that stupid ring he was still wearing.
A ring that served to represent empty and broken promises.
A ring that represented a relationship that no longer existed.
A ring that represented the twisted desire that human beings had to lie and deceive.
A useless ring.
He was in that place, that secret place that used to be just for the two of you, where that conversation about eternal union had arisen, where he had marked you as his…where all the promises that were now broken had been made.
He took off the ring (there was a little difficulty doing it, possibly due to the uncontrollable trembling in his fingers).
Once the ring rested in the palm of his hand, he looked at it for just one last instant (Recalling your reaction from that time when he gave it to you).
Finally, he hurls it, hurls it with all his might.
He turned around.
And never looked back.
.
.
.
Just for that day, however, the next day he returned to that same place, desperate.
He searched and searched, until day turned to night and night to day.
Find it.
He had to find it!
Why had he done such a stupid thing? The last piece he had to remind you, to remind him that what you had shared wasn't just dreams, had been real, once upon a time.
A light rain had started a few hours ago, but Harlequin hadn't even noticed.
he didn't even notice when the rain turned into a storm; his wet, heavy clothes made it difficult for him to move, but he didn't stop searching.
Suddenly he felt a presence beside him, looking at him disapprovingly (and with concern, but it's not like Harlequin cared at that moment).
“So you really were here,” said Jester, trying to shield him with his umbrella. Not that it was much help, really, but even with all his experience as a leader, Jester had to admit that in this situation he wasn't quite sure how to act…
Harlequin didn't bother to look at him; Jester wasn't even sure Harlequin would recognize his presence there, until he asked him, still searching
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Pierrot told me…”
“Pierrot?” Arlequin paused, looking confused, as if he didn't understand or didn't want to understand what he was hearing; then, once he had processed it, he exploded in anger “No! But how?? No one else was supposed to know about this place except for that person and me!”
“Well, now we all know…that person told Pierrot, and Pierrot told us.”
Another broken promise…it shouldn't surprise him anymore; it shouldn't hurt him anymore. Since when had you been sharing secrets that were supposed to be just between the two of you with Pierrot? How long had you been playing him for a fool? How long had you been mocking him?
Was it fun?
It must have been fun...right?
And yet, there he was, like a pathetic little fool searching for the last piece that connected him to you, desperate, still unwilling to let you go…
What had you done with him?
How did you manage to ruin him like that?
So that even with his heart shattered, the broken pieces of his heart continued to beat for you.
“Let’s stop this nonsense Quim, let’s go home.” Jester grabbed him by the arm, trying to lift him off the muddy ground (and, if necessary, even drag him back to the circus)
"No" he spoke in a low, but dangerous voice, like the hiss of a venomous snake.
"No?” Jester repeated. For a moment, he seemed not to have understood the answer. His brows lifted in surprise, but it vanished almost instantly, replaced by a hardening expression. The disbelief soon gave way to clear irritation.
But at that moment, Harlequin didn’t give a damn what Jester thought or how angry he was.
"NO!" he snapped. With a sharp jerk, he wrenched himself free from Jester’s grip. “I’m not going back until I find it”
Jester stood there staring at him for a moment, not quite sure what to say or how to react; finally, he asked
“But I don’t understand, what are you doing, what are you searching for so intently, Harlequin?”
"A ring…"
“A ri- “Jester couldn’t even finish the word. When he realized what Harlequin was doing, he was stunned. He couldn’t understand it. After all this time, after everything that had happened, he still…?”
“Forget about that, you know this is stupid, why don’t we just…”
Harlequin didn't say nothing, he just stared at him, and Jester knew that look on Harlequin's face. That look he got when he was so determined to do something, that there was no power in this world that could stop him.
Jester had no choice but to sigh in defeat (if only he had trusted his instincts more when that miserable human first came into their lives...if only he had gotten rid of you before you caused the damage he knew you would inevitably cause to his family someday, he should have done it...now it was too late, all that was left was to help him search too...)
The rain had stopped a few hours ago.
Jester was already exhausted.
Harlequin was about to lose hope, and then, as if a ray of moonlight fell to earth, a small reflection appeared on the floor.
It was the ring.
Harlequin took it (he tried to put it on his finger, but it was almost impossible; his hands were sore and swollen, battered, and had several cuts and scratches; the blood mixed with mud and herbs, combined with his constant trembling, made everything difficult).
Harlequin was crying.
And Jester…
Jester knew you would die soon, even if he wanted to go and kill you right now, he knew very well that it wouldn't do much good, it would probably only make things worse.
It was a mistake.
His mistake.
Not killing you from the beginning.
To have let you into their lives.
And perhaps, it was also a mistake to have returned to this city.
But how was he to know that of all the cities you would choose this one exactly to hide in?
Perhaps the moment he found out he should have made everyone pack their bags and leave, it's a shame that the city was one of the best sources of food, a high population density (who seemed to love visiting his circus), and a high crime rate; disappearances were so common that almost no one suspected the circus.
Jester had agreed to your stupid plan to go and die alone like a cockroach, but perhaps (naively) he had hoped that his companions would take your departure better. If he had known that you leaving the circus would cause so much trouble, perhaps he would have thought twice before letting you go. Now all that remained was to hope that Harlequin would soon come to his senses and hate you so much that your imminent death would bring back the happiness you had stolen from him.
He truly hoped that intervention wouldn't be necessary, that you would disappear permanently from their lives soon…before he decided to take more drastic measures.
For now, all that was left was to wait.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
The second time Harlequin had decided to forget you, he told himself that he would force himself to no longer think, remember, or speak of you.
It was difficult for a while, but at one point it seemed like he was getting there.
He had started making jokes again.
Perform his shows.
He returned to his hobby of making puppets and other props for his plays.
He almost seemed to have reverted to being the Harlequin he always was.
And most importantly
he didn't mention you anymore.
The sense of relief among his other colleagues was also evident.
Everyone was happy that Harlequin looked better now.
Even Pierrot wasn't (that) bothered when the green menace decided to return to his old tricks and play pranks on him. (In return, Harlequin never mentioned anything about how Pierrot sometimes carried a familiar smell, a scent similar to yours, nor did he question why Pierrot disappeared from the circus so often these days. Did he really not notice, or was he deliberately ignoring it? Pierrot hoped it was the former).
Regarding dreams.
Nightmares.
Was there any difference?
The Doctor had been administering a new medication to him, one that prevented him from dreaming, so he no longer had to be tormented by the memory of your face at night.
Finally, he could sleep peacefully again.
(If he ignored with all his might the cold on the pillow next to him)
Today was one of Harlequin's days off, and he had decided to use it to wander through the city's shopping district (the same one you had once strolled through together, hand in hand, but he didn't think about that anymore, truly... he didn’t), taking advantage of the fact that it was already night, the sidewalks only briefly illuminated by the city's streetlights. He observed the shop windows, what they offered, the people strolling around him, each one lost in their own world, oblivious to him.
It was pleasant; for the first time in a long time, his mind was clear.
He almost felt ashamed of the pathetic and miserable behavior he had exhibited over the past months.
The mere thought of a stupid human having such control over him bothered him.
He would get over you one way or another. That feeling of nostalgia that appeared every time he saw something that reminded him of you hardly happened anymore; he didn't even think of you when he saw the little churro stand you loved to go to. No, if he went there to buy some (despite his dislike for sweets things) it wasn’t because of some pitiful attempt to still feel connected to you; it had simply been because he felt like trying something new, nothing more.
Yes, Harlequin was almost succeeding, almost forgetting you; even if he didn't, he would force himself to, one way or another. What's more, even if you appeared before him now, he probably wouldn't even be able to recognize your face anymore.
Trying to convince himself of this, Harlequin continued walking under the streetlights.
But of course, it never could be that easy, not when fate had decided to make him its personal clown.
A familiar scent stopped him in his tracks.
That smell.
That perfume.
Where had he smelled it before?
Of course, he knew the answer.
He knew it better than his own damn name.
But oh god, he really wished he had forgotten it already
Facing him, several meters ahead, was you (as beautiful as the last time he had seen you)
Had you been in this city all this time? Did the others know? And why, of all the cities, had you decided to come here?
Those kinds of questions didn't matter.
He wanted to turn around.
Or maybe just walk right past you as if you were a mere stranger.
But he just stood there, motionless, watching you, feeling his heart burst.
And, to his misfortune or delight, you saw him too.
Oh…
He still loved the way his figure was reflected in your eyes.
You walked towards him and for a moment he wondered if this was just an illusion once again.
Perhaps he had forgotten to take the medication the doctor prescribed, and this was all just another dream…
“Hello Harlequin” but your voice sounded so real in his ears, this was real…it was, isn’t?
“Hello…” he said almost reflexively. If you noticed the turmoil in his heart, his nervousness, his excitement, his desperation, his trembling, you said nothing.
“How have you been?” was just a question you had asked innocently, almost without thinking; you had no idea that you had done the equivalent of plunging a dagger into his chest at that moment.
How have you been?
How have you been?!
How do you think he had been?!
He wanted to tell you how every day of his life since you left had been tormented by your memory, he wanted to tell you how the doctor had to intervene and feed him intravenously because he refused to eat.
He wanted to tell you about the time he almost let himself be killed by a gang of humans in order to end the suffering you had caused him.
He wanted to tell you about all the days he had to spend in bed because of the illness he had contracted after spending seven sleepless days in the rain looking for his stupid ring.
He wanted to tell you how now he had to take medication to fall asleep and to stop dreaming about you.
He wanted to ask you if you had any idea what it was like to have to live a life without dreams, because those dreams that were so full of you had become too difficult to bear.
He wanted to tell you how now he had to avoid certain smells, certain foods, certain songs, certain places just to not think about you.
He wanted to tell you how you had ruined his life.
He wanted to tell you that despite having done everything possible to tear you away from his heart, you were still there, stuck inside.
He wanted to tell you that he was unwell, that he felt like he was dying every day.
He wanted to tell you so many things.
So many.
But he could only reply.
“I’ve been fine”
You saw him for a moment with an emotion that Harlequin couldn't describe or understand. Was it relief? Was it sadness? He, who had always been excellent at reading other people's body language, had never been able to decipher you, and at first, perhaps that was one of the things that fascinated him most about you. Now… now it was a real headache.
Finally you smiled at him.
"Glad to hear it"
And just like that, you ended the conversation and went on your way.
Harlequin stood there watching your back grow smaller and smaller, farther away.
Again, you were moving away from him.
How could he stop losing you?
He started to move, to go after you.
What if he caught up to you?
What if he took you in his arms and refused to let you go?
What if he got down on his knees and begged you for another chance to be together?
What if he promised to change everything about himself that you didn't like, to mold himself to you, to become the perfect partner?
What if he kidnapped you?
What if he kept you locked up, captive, no matter how much you begged him to let you go?
What if he kept you hypnotized under the sweet influence of his poison?
What if he turned you into his personal fool just to keep you by his side?
What if he broke your mind and your life in such a way that you were unable to conceive of a life without him?
He could do that, that and more; after all, he was a monster, a cruel and sadistic monster, capable of committing the most awful of the atrocities. He had probably already done some of them in the past, so why…why couldn't he force himself to do it to you?
Eventually, your figure faded into the night, into the crowd around him; the only thing left was the lingering scent of your perfume, and even that eventually faded away.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
You continued on your way, walking as fast as you could, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your tears. You hoped Harlequin hadn't noticed how hard it was to speak without your words catching in your throat.
Or maybe
Part of you did want him to realize, to come running and stop you in your tracks.
Or maybe
You should have been the one to turn around and come back to apologize and ask for another chance, but no. You had to be strong. This was for the best. After all, he'd told you himself: He was fine.
And he would continue to be fine now that you weren't by his side.
He didn't need you anymore to keep living, to be happy (and that's what you wanted more than anything, wasn't it?... wasn't it?)
You remember that time Pierrot came looking for you, because they had no idea where Harlequin had gone and Jester was very worried.
Your heart skipped a beat at that moment, Harlequin… Harlequin had to be alright, didn't he? His disappearance definitely had nothing to do with what you had done, and he definitely wouldn't be anywhere in that city you could think of, definitely not in that place, not at least if everything was as Pierrot had told you.
.
.
.
The first time you met someone from the circus after the separation was by chance.
You were returning home after buying dinner when you saw a group of people gathered together. You wanted to ignore it, but your nosy instinct got the better of you and you went over to see what it was about.
Apparently, the "people" gathered here had organized to beat to a pulp a poor, defenseless individual they found in the streets. The mocking laughter, the jeers, the shouts inciting more violence, made your stomach churn and filled you with indignation. You were old and sick, but even that wouldn't stop what you were about to do. Even if these men decided to attack you too, and you ended up dying defending a stranger, you preferred that option. You knew that ignoring this situation would prevent you from going on with your life.
As best you could, you got in their way. Years of experience with the circus had taught you several tricks for getting rid of these kinds of thugs. In the end, the people weren't so amused by beating up an older adult (at least they had some decency left) and they dispersed.
And then you finally saw him, the person they had been attacking just moments before. As if it were a cruel twist of fate, that person stared at your face in the same way (in awe and love struck) as he had the first time, all those years before…
Pierrot
From then on, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get rid of him. In the end, you decided to accept defeat and allow him to see you again, on the condition that he didn't tell anyone.
And although Pierrot kept his promise, his companions were neither foolish nor blind; they could see the change in Pierrot's behavior and quickly connected the dots—all except for the Harlequin, who at that moment was too busy drowning in his own sorrows to realize that the culprit for his shortcomings was only a few kilometers away.
Although you had sworn not to ask, in the end curiosity got the better of you and one day while Pierrot was preparing dinner, you asked, trying to feign disinterest, like someone asking about the weather.
“How has Harlequin been?”
With his back turned, focused on the pans on the stove, you couldn't see Pierrot's expression; he simply answered you.
“He has been fine”
Somehow the question you had said you would never ask had become a habit, a question you asked every time you met with Pierrot; the answer was the same every time.
At first, you might have hesitated to end the relationship, but when you were together, you were afraid, seeing how attached Harlequin was to you. You were terrified that when your death came (inevitably before his), he wouldn't be able to go on without you. Now, just remembering that thought made you ashamed. Not being able to go on without you? Ha-ha, what did you think you were? the blood flowing through his veins?
Now that you knew he was fine without you, you convinced yourself that you had made the best decision (you had to, because maybe there was no going back...)
So the day Pierrot came into your room flustered, asking if you had seen Harlequin or if you knew where he might be, your world crumbled. You were filled with worry, wanting to abandon this nonsense and go looking for him too, but…where could he be? If he had truly forgotten about you, he couldn't be anywhere you thought of, could he? Especially not in that place.
Regardless, you suggested some places to Pierrot, hoping they would be able to find him.
A few days passed and there was no news of the harlequin; you couldn't stand it any longer. He couldn't be there, he couldn't, could he? So, almost without thinking, you left your house and headed for that place.
You, at your age, sick, at night, crossing a forest full of dangerous animals while it was obvious a storm was brewing. It was a death sentence, and besides, there was no guarantee he'd be there…but if he was, what did it mean?
Unfortunately, because of your condition, you couldn't go any further; on top of that, Pierrot found you there, trying to catch your breath while leaning against a tree.
“My dear! But what are you doing here? It’s very late, and it will rain soon, you should be at home,” he said worriedly as he gently took you in his arms, trying to get you to lean against him so he could carry you back home.
“Harlequin, I have to find him…” you said with difficulty
It was really dark, so you couldn't make out the Pierrot’s expression, but his tone of voice was very obvious; he wasn't happy.
“No” he said curtly.
“But I know where he could be!” you tried to argue.
“Then tell me where, and I’ll look for him; you don’t need to go yourself, not in this condition.”
“No,” you hesitated. “I can’t, it’s… it’s a secret between us…”
"Well, then I guess we'll never find Harlequin."
“Pierrot!” you said indignantly
“My dear!” Pierrot exasperatedly said, “Listen, I know you want to help him, but in your condition, how much can you really do? Don’t you think you’ll end up making it worse? Please, dearest, reconsider. If you end up hurting yourself too, what’s the point? Just tell me where you think he might be, please?” he said then in a calmer tone.
Pierrot was right, you thought, so after a moment you told him where he might be, you told him about your secret place. Part of you hoped Harlequin wouldn't be too angry about it, another part wished he wasn't even there in the first place. Maybe you were a little scared of what it might mean if he was… (while another part of you, one you didn't want to acknowledge, felt hopeful)
A few days later Pierrot returned, you jumped almost immediately towards him, he received you in his arms with a smile, a smile that died the moment you asked him once again (as was never missing every time you two were together) about Harlequin.
"Did they find him? How is he?"
"Calm down, my dearest, calm down," he said, taking your shoulders and trying to reassure you. "We found him and yes... he's fine, as always, you don't have to worry about him."
You breathed a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from your chest; you had spent the last few nights awake waiting for news about the whereabouts and well-being of the Harlequin.
After finding out that he was okay, and after hesitating a little, you decided to ask
“He… was he in that place?”
Pierrot didn't seem to understand at first, but after staring at you for a few moments, he said
“No…” He became serious for a moment, as if analyzing your expression. “Can you believe it? All the worry he caused us, and it turns out the brute had been going to underground parties. Oh, he was having a blast while we were dying of worry. Don’t you think he’s a thoughtless, inconsiderate jerk? Jester gave him the worst punishment of his life. It’s best if you stop worrying about someone like him; he’s not worth it.”
So after all, he really was fine without you…
Of course he was fine without you!
Harlequin was a fascinating creature who had lived perfectly well for a long time without you, and you knew he had faced far worse torments and experiences in his life than a simple heartbreak. He would recover quickly, overcome this as he had overcome everything else in his life, and be happy—happy as he deserved. Free and without having to bear the burden of carrying you.
And although that made you happy, it also hurt a little (…maybe a lot).
.
.
.
You arrived at your apartment exhausted; your tears had already dried up and you could only sigh.
“You’ve finally arrived, sweetie.”
Perhaps you should have been surprised, but you had already gotten used to Pierrot and the Doctor's constant visits to your house.
Just as you had done with Pierrot, you insisted that it wasn't necessary for the Doctor to continue worrying about you, that it was better if they just forgot about you, but like Pierrot, he also refused to leave you, and so from the moment they found you again, finding them at your house was not an uncommon experience (except for the fact that the Doctor's visits were less frequent, at most once a week, while Pierrot was at your house almost every day...)
You greeted him and sat down next to him.
“You had your medical check-up today, right?”
"Yes, that's right…"
“What have they told you?”
"You know, the same old thing...that I'm dying, but in more professional terms, of course."
“I’ve told you so many times, those doctors can’t be trusted. If you let me examine you, perhaps we can even find a cure.”
You cut him off abruptly.
“Doctor, we’ve already talked about this…” you said, bringing your hands to your face. You were tired of the medical tests and you were tired of this conversation.
"Okay," it seemed, that at least for today, the doctor wasn't going to insist on the subject.
You offered him something to drink, you talked a little about your medical tests, your treatment, and a little about your daily life
Suddenly you blurted out
“I saw him today…”
"Harlequin?"
"Yeah"
"What did you say to him?"
“We didn’t really talk much…I just asked him how he was…”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
"What should I tell him?"
"The truth."
You let out a cynical laugh
“How could I tell him? It would be a sentence, a condemnation that would force him to stay by my side while I deteriorate day by day, force him to watch me slowly fade away without him being able to do anything about it, as the person he once loved becomes unrecognizable, force him to sit by my bed waiting for my inevitable end… I’m sorry, but no, Doctor, I can’t do that to him.”
The clock struck nine o'clock sharp.
It was time to take your medicine.
Exhausted, you went to find your pillbox and a glass of water. It wasn't far from the area where you had been earlier with the doctor, so you continued talking.
“I don’t want to be a burden.” You took a pill. “I don’t want him to stay out of pity.” You took another pill. “And I don’t want to show up now to ruin his life again.” And finally, you took the last pill (at least for four hours).
“Do you really believe that? I think Harlequin made peace with the fact that you're going to die before him a long time ago. Even your current state of health, do you think he isn’t aware of it? But I really don't think it matters to him. If you just ask him, I know he wouldn't mind staying by your side until the very end.”
“That’s the point…I don’t want to ask him.” You turned away. “I can’t…”
"Why is that?"
“Because I would prefer that, instead of wasting his time on a lost cause, he use it to find new things he enjoys, to live new experiences, new emotions; I just want him to be happy…”
“I understand what you’re getting at, but don’t you think you should have at least given him the chance to choose? Whether to stay or not?”
“No…because I know what option he would take. The wrong one.”
“I don’t think it’s up to you to decide that.”
"It is!”
The Doctor stared at you for a long time without saying anything; at one point the silence became oppressive and uncomfortable.
“What?” you asked, somewhat exasperated.
“I’m just trying to understand why you keep insisting on making things difficult for yourself.”
You didn't mean to be rude, but the Doctor was starting to test your patience, coming here acting all wise, as if everything could be solved in the simplest ways.
But perhaps what bothered you most was that maybe he was right, and that only made you become more defensive.
You laughed bitterly
“Sure, so tell me, what should I do? Go to his tent, beg for forgiveness, tell him that I lied to him all this time and abandoned him, not because I don’t love him, but because I’m dying and I don’t want him to see me like this?”
“Yes, you could start with that…”
You gave a sardonic chuckle
“It’s not that easy… he’d never take me back, not after everything… it’s impossible.” After thinking about it for a moment, your expression fell. “I wouldn’t do it.”
“Again assuming things, projecting your own feelings onto those of Harlequin…Tell me the truth, you’re afraid, aren’t you?”
"What?" You didn't expect him to ask that, you didn't want him to ask that
“You constantly say you’re doing it for him, but I think if that were the case, you would have at least bothered to ask him what he really thought. It seems to me more like this is for you. You keep running away—from him, from us—because you’re afraid…you see yourself as a nuisance, a burden, even though we keep telling you otherwise. Maybe you’re afraid that one day the love Harlequin has for you will turn into hate? For now, I can tell you that’s impossible.” The doctor paused. “But you know, if you continue down this path, maybe that fear will become a reality.”
The Doctor's words hit you hard, one harder than the other; many of the things he said made sense, and in many others it seemed that he could see a part of you that you refused to accept.
But you were already too deep into this. Admitting your mistake at this point, you believed, would bring nothing but catastrophic results.
In the end, you ended up taking out the anger you were feeling toward yourself at that moment on the poor doctor; you lost your temper, and as usual, you ended up saying things you didn't really mean and would later regret.
"No! for goodness’s sake!, how many times do I have to repeat myself, I never want to see Harlequin again! And if you're not going to respect that decision, then I don't want to see you again either, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave my house right now!"
Getting all worked up at your age wasn't very wise, especially with a heart as weak as yours, but by that point, it was already clear that you weren't exactly the wisest person around…
Fortunately or unfortunately, the Doctor didn't take your excessive tantrum to heart; he didn't even make a move to get up from his seat.
As he calmly continued drinking his coffee, he said
"You know...there are certain medical conditions that affect judgment and personality, it's likely that the decision you made wasn't entirely rational...why don't you let me...?"
"Doctor!"
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
You gave a tired sigh
“I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to lose my temper like that. I know you just want to help me,” You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed by your behavior. “It’s just that I… I don’t want to ruin this for him, not when he seems so happy…”
“Happy? Is that really what you think?” The Doctor paused, confused. He didn’t understand how anyone could see the Harlequin and think he was happy. That’s why he continued, saying, “You know, I really don’t like to meddle in other people’s business, but this time I really think he should know the truth…”
You didn't let him continue; you took his hands, squeezing them tightly.
“No, please, you have to promise, Doctor, that you won’t tell him… Promise me!” Your desperate, fearful expression left the Doctor somewhat astonished.
“Don’t worry, my dear… I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything.” Before the Doctor could say anything, another voice interrupted. Pierrot had entered the room without you noticing; perhaps he had been there from the beginning… How much had he heard?
Pierrot approached slowly, despite his serene expression and cordial smile; everything else about that star-marked clown denoted danger.
Pierrot continued in a friendly voice, “Doctor… didn’t we already agree that we would respect my dearest’s decisions?”
The Doctor broke out in a cold sweat; a primal fear flooded his being. Something told him that one wrong move would end with him in very dangerous situation.
“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help, I…”
“Oh, Doctor,” Pierrot interrupted, “No offense, but how could you possibly help with matters of love? You’ve never had one yourself… I think this is a subject that belongs solely to my dear, and… Harlequin.” He pronounced that last name in such a way that it sounded as if he were being forced to swallow a thousand needles.
"All we can do is offer our support from the outside, isn't that right, my dear?" he turned to look at you with a loving smile.
Somewhat confused, but not knowing what else to say, you just nodded; something about Pierrot's behavior at this moment made you want to agree with anything he said…
“If we meddle too much in matters that don’t concern us, even if we do it to help, as I know you’re doing now, we might end up making everything worse, do you understand, Doctor? So, for now, we must just stay out of it, and if my dear believes that the best thing for them is to end their relationship with Harlequin, then so be it” Pierrot finished with a kind smile, but the shadow that covered half his face made him look rather grim.
The Doctor thought for a while, then said
“Hmm…the world of relationships is more complicated than I thought. I suppose I’ll have to do some reassessment and investigate further…sweetie, would you mind if I took some notes? I’d like to analyze which parts of your brain are activated and responsible for the way you’re acting now…” The Doctor paused as if he had remembered something. “But of course, I’d have to open your head, and I’m afraid you’re not in any condition to withstand such a procedure. What a shame. How about I get one of those machines that examine brain waves? Would you be willing to participate in the experiment?”
Seeing your uncomfortable expression, Pierrot interrupted the Doctor, pushing him from behind to force him out of your house, and with a nervous chuckle said
“Don’t pay him too much attention, my dear, you know how he gets. I’ll take him back to the circus… I’ll come to see you alone later, you don’t mind that, do you?” Pierrot didn’t even give you time to answer, when he laughed and said, “No, of course you don’t, see you later, my dear.”
While Pierrot was pushing him, the Doctor was still talking about his future research on the complications of human-monster interspecies relationships.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
The third time Harlequin tried to forget you; Harlequin had decided to return to his old ways. The game of flirtation, reclaiming his role as a seducer. Why waste his life suffering for a single person, when he could have as many as he wanted in his bedchamber?
It was strange and even a little awkward trying to court someone other than you, when at one point he had promised himself that you would be the last, the only one.
But he was thinking about you again, and damn it, that wasn't the point. He had to get you out of his head, out of his heart, out of his skin, out of every organ in his body, or he'd go crazy.
Playful teasing with one of the visitors who kept turning to look at him, small mischievous touches with a stranger he had met at night while leaving a bar.
He remembered when he found all of that so much fun and forced himself to feel it again. But every caress that didn't come from your hands, every kiss that didn't come from your lips, filled him with such aversion.
But he kept trying, thinking that, at some point, if he kept forcing it, he would eventually forget about you and could go back to living as he always had before you came into his life and decided to turn everything upside down.
That night he had seen someone who caught his eye, and it seemed the feeling was mutual; a pink ticket was sticking carelessly out of their pocket. Harlequin smiled smugly.
He invited that person to stay after the show, and throughout the entire performance they couldn't help but exchange glances.
His performance came to an end, and with that, the applause rang out. Harlequin kept his gaze fixed on that person; both wore mischievous smiles on their faces.
Once the entire audience had left the room, the two of them wasted no time; as if they were magnets, their bodies stuck to each other.
Deep kisses and hands that explored every part of their bodies.
It felt good, almost like he was making love to you.
This person's hands felt just like yours.
This person's lips felt just like yours.
This person's eyes clouded over with passion in the same way yours did.
This person's face...it looked so much like yours...
Of course, perhaps the reason it wasn't so uncomfortable being with this person was because they were so similar to you, to the you of a few years ago, young, vigorous, and full of life and passion (though absent was the love that had once spilled from your eyes whenever you looked at him, all those years ago…)
The point of all of this was to forget you, how could he do that being with someone so similar to you?
But perhaps, that was the only option he had for now.
Harlequin decided to ignore his thoughts this time.
He continued the kiss, which didn't break until a sudden gasp was heard, which came neither from him nor from the person beneath him.
Someone had entered the tent. That someone was you.
You were just as surprised, if not more so, than Harlequin. You both stared at each other for a few seconds (which felt like an eternity), both trying to understand what they were seeing, if it was real, if it was really happening.
Finally, it was you who broke the silence
“I’m sorry, I…I’m looking for Pierrot,” you made up an excuse and hoped you wouldn’t stumble over your words. “Sorry to interrupt, y-you can continue what you were doing, I was just leaving.”
Before Harlequin could say anything, you were already gone.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
You'd been stupid, truly stupid. You knew you shouldn't have gone, but the Doctor's words kept echoing in your head. What if he was right? What if you'd been wrong about that? About everything?
To be honest, from the moment the words "let's end this relationship" left your mouth, you were already filled with regret. You wanted to take it all back, but you couldn't stop talking. You saw the hopeless expression on his face, you knew you had betrayed his trust, broken your vows, promises, and dreams; that you had hurt him in a way you swore you never would, and you hated yourself for it from the very first minute.
Even though you kept telling yourself it was the best choice, that you were sparing him from future pain. There were moments when your conviction wavered, when you wanted to be weak and selfish and send everything to hell. You wanted to spend your last days with the man you had loved all this time, you wanted to take refuge in him and force him to carry the burden (with the you that was withering away).
At times, you didn't care if, by staying by his side, you were depriving him of the chance to start over, to meet new people, to find new love, just to care for a sick old person. At times, you didn't care if your whim to have him by your side until your last breath forced him to suffer and wear himself out watching the person he once loved slowly fade away, powerless to do anything.
Yes, sometimes you didn't care about causing him such pain, but those outbursts of selfishness lasted only a short time before your guilty conscience stopped you from going back to him.
Even if you did, after all this time, he 'd most likely reject you, wouldn't he? (And he'd have every right!) But perhaps that terrified you more than you could imagine. NO. You made a decision that day; now you had to face the consequences. Now all you had to do was convince yourself every night before going to sleep that it was definitely the decision that would bring your beloved the most happiness…
At least you remained that steadfast until you saw him again in person. From then on, the longing to see him, to have him close once more, never ceased. You wanted any excuse, any motive, just to see him again.
It was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. If you went near him again now, then what had it all been for? You would have made the both of you suffer over something so stupid…no, you couldn't, you couldn't. Not now that it seemed Harlequin was finally okay without you, that he had started over just the way you wanted (because that's what you wanted, right?). You would stay away. Even though knowing he was here, in the same city, so close to you was driving you crazy.
Even more so when it was that same city where you had not only been marked (a mark you still searched for in your reflection, only to watch it fade with time and be powerless to stop it), but also where you had received the ring on that anniversary.
There hadn't been a wedding ceremony or anything like that, but one day, that mark and that ring were enough to prove you were bound together (in a forever you took it upon yourself to destroy).
You touched the finger where that ring should have been; there was nothing there now. You hadn't taken it off to distance yourself from that green menace you still loved more than anything else, no, if it were up to you, you would have worn that ring until your grave, even if it now held no meaning. But with the weight loss the illness had caused, the ring simply didn't fit anymore; it kept slipping off. Once, while you were washing the dishes, it slipped off your finger and fell down the drain. You practically tore your whole house apart trying to find it again. Oh, how you cried that time. And with that fear of losing it again, now unlocked, you had made the decision to place it in a safe place, a small box where you had placed all the little things you treasured more than life itself (a green heart-shaped pin, the edges of which were already peeling away with age, an old perforated green ticket, and now that ring).
And yet, you stood firm in your choice, for your own good, for his, you would never see him again.
Just when you had resigned yourself to it, at dawn the next day a note appeared on your nightstand. A note written by Pierrot inviting you to the circus (perhaps to reminisce about old times, perhaps as a farewell gesture). A red ticket accompanied the note.
The note was the perfect excuse to shorten, even if only by a few meters, even if only by a few seconds, the distance between you and him.
You thought about whether to do it or not, almost all day, until eventually the appointed time arrived.
In the end, after thinking about it for a long time, you convinced yourself that it was a very bad idea, that it didn't make sense, and that you didn't understand why Pierrot would do something like that knowing the situation you were in.
It was a shame your body didn't seem to listen to what your mind was telling it; when you came to yourself, you were already there, inside the circus (if the Ticket Taker looked at you strangely or did anything when he saw you again, you didn't even notice).
The characteristic aroma of buttered popcorn combined with other sweet notes filled the air. The sound of music, the murmur and laughter of the crowd. You had spent more than half your life on this stage; you almost felt your eyes well up with nostalgia. You had long since resigned yourself to never seeing this place again except in your dreams, but here you were once more… (perhaps one last time).
So, just like that first time, Pierrot had extended the invitation, you should have gone to find Pierrot, but his show hadn't started yet…
The only show at the moment was the one taking place in the green tent.
Just like before, you knew it was a bad idea to go in; you were already too close, closer than you'd promised yourself to be to him. You had to turn back. But you didn't.
You went in.
Unlike the first time, you took a seat all the way to the back, making sure you were hidden in the crowd. Then the show started, and on stage, there he was, just like the first time. He began to perform his show, and as he did, you couldn't stop your brain from reliving all the memories you'd shared. (You were so lost in them that you didn't even notice how his eyes were now following someone else in the audience) It was almost unreal; if you stayed engrossed in your fantasies for a few minutes, it was almost as if you had gone back in time. He still looked exactly the same as he had thirty years ago, and you asked yourself, if you had really gone back in time, would you repeat everything again? Would you fall in love with him again even if you knew that in the end there would only be tears? (Yes, you would) But you hadn't gone back in time; you knew it when the pain in your bones forced you to leave (with difficulty) early from the show.
You took a seat on one of the benches and took out some pain pills.
After seeing him at his show tonight. After seeing young, healthy people walk past you. After seeing yourself, old, sick, and exhausted, it finally became clear. You had made the right decision.
Once the pain had become more manageable thanks to the medication, you decided to head for the exit. You hadn't seen Pierrot, but oh well, you'd apologize later (that poor clown should be used to you constantly disappointing him).
As you headed for the exit, you passed by the green tent again. It was completely silent, so the show must have ended. You should have said goodbye to that sight and, just like you did that day with Harlequin, not looked back. But, as had happened time and again, your body never did what your mind told it to.
Instead of heading towards the exit, your steps led you back to the green tent, and then…
You opened the curtain.
.
.
.
How long had it been since you'd run that fast?
Probably tomorrow, if you even woke up, the pain in your legs would make you regret every decision you'd ever made. But that was a problem for later. Right now, you weren't in the right frame of mind to think about that. Leaning against your front door, breathing heavily, your heart pounding, you tried to process what you'd seen.
Harlequin and someone else…
Your lover and someone else…
No…
He was no longer your lover
He was no longer anything yours.
And whose fault was it?
Wasn't this what you wanted?
So why…
Why were you crying?
Why did you feel as if your soul had left you?
Why did you feel as if your heart had been ripped out?
If this was the correct answer
Why did it hurt so much?
Right there in front of your door, you completely broke down.
All this time you were acting strong, pretending and suppressing your feelings, everything came out like a broken dam.
The tears you had held back for so long were now flowing out and there was nothing that could stop them, and they were drowning you, you couldn't breathe.
The heart-wrenching screams you had wanted to unleash for so long were now finally escaping your throat, and perhaps, for a moment, you were grateful that you didn't have any neighbors nearby, or they would probably have already called the police, believing that someone had been killing you.
And they wouldn't be wrong, not entirely, after all, there was someone killing you. You. All this time. If your illness or old age didn't finish you off, you knew the pain you had inflicted on yourself would.
You had achieved your goal; you had succeeded in making Harlequin forget you and move on with his life. Now, if you died, he wouldn't grieve, there would be no sadness, nothing, because you no longer meant anything to him…nothing. That was what you wanted, wasn't it? Why?
Well…
If he really didn't care about being in your heart anymore, maybe this was the best time to make it stop.
Why prolong a life that held nothing but pain in its short remaining future? If you no longer had a single reason to stay here, then…
Numb with physical and emotional pain, you went to the kitchen, grabbed the sharpest knife you could find, your hands trembling as you brought the blade to your neck. You felt a small, sharp pain.
But you couldn't finish burying the knife's edge; one hand clung to yours, stopping you, while the other hugged you around the waist.
He was behind you, so you didn't know who he was, but he was much stronger and taller than you.
Finally you let go of the knife, and he took the opportunity to cling to you even tighter. His face was now nestled in the area of your neck that had been wounded (and with how tall this person was, it must have been a very uncomfortable position), but this guy didn't seem to care. You felt something wet and warm run down your neck and thought that maybe it was your blood, but when you heard the small whimpers and felt the small tremors in the body pressed against yours, you understood: that person was crying.
Finally, you dared to see who it was.
You saw red, a lot of red (You felt very annoyed with the part of you that was disappointed because it wasn't green)
“Please my dear, don’t do it…”
Pierrot, oh, dear and pitiful Pierrot, how is it that after so many years you always ended up making him cry, and worse still, why had he forgiven you every time?
Pierrot gently lifted and carried you to your bed, laying you down delicately. (For Pierrot, you had always been so light and easy to carry, but now it was almost like lifting a feather, and that broke his heart.)
Downcast, unable to look Pierrot in the eye, you could only say in a low voice
“I’m sorry Pierrot, I couldn’t see your show…even though you invited me…But by now you must be used to me always letting you down, right?” You laughed at yourself. “It seems the only thing I was good at in this life was hurting the people I was supposed to love…”
Pierrot's expression, which had been meant to appear serene as if to comfort you, crumbled in that instant. He approached you and enveloped you in his embrace, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was so afraid of breaking you now that you felt so fragile, in every way.
“My dear, don’t say that, it’s not true, there is no way you could ever let me down.”
“It is true, Pierrot, I do nothing but make one bad decision after another, and I only end up hurting everyone around me. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but somehow it seems as if I was determined to sabotage myself every time. I’m such a fool, Pierrot, a total fool”
“My dear…”
“I’ve been lying all this time, Pierrot. I’ve always said I was doing it for Harlequin, but it was a lie. Everything, everything I did was for me, because I was afraid… God, I said I did it because I didn’t want to be selfish, but all this damn time that’s all I’ve been. When I made the decision, I wasn’t thinking about him, I was thinking about me, only me, but I was too cowardly to admit it to myself…” you took a moment to continue
“It’s just that… I realized it, you know? I could see how his eyes would light up when he looked at other people—younger, more vibrant—lost in the ecstasy of youth, of life, and then he’d turn back to look at me and lose all that sparkle in his eyes… and I… I couldn’t stand it.” You really didn't want to keep crying, but the tears kept welling up in your eyes
“I felt… I felt that he was holding back for my sake, to avoid hurting me. He was missing out on living, on enjoying his life, and I was afraid, afraid because, for the moment, he loved me, but what if, at some point, he started to see me as chains that bound him, and all that love ended up turning into resentment?”
Pierrot tried to stop your hands from shaking by giving them little kisses
“I thought I’d be able to bear the fact that he’d forget me… but I don’t think I could bear it if every memory he had of me turned bitter, if when he thought of me after I died he’d only remember a sick old person, if when he tried to find me in his memories he could only see this version of me who would only bore him and perhaps even disgust him, no, not that, that would torment me even after I was dead… I knew it, that’s why I left, before that happened. It was always to protect myself, not him… but I had to justify it to myself, I had to tell myself I was doing it for a righteous reason so I wouldn’t hate myself any more than I already do.”
Gently wiping away the tears that were still streaming down your cheeks, Pierrot pressed a light kiss to your forehead
“And now, now that I know he’s happy, now that I know that of the two of us, the one who couldn’t live without the other wasn’t exactly him, I can’t stand it,” you laughed with self-contempt. “I’m a fucking mess, aren’t I? I caused all this, and here I am, feeling like I’m dying because the person I love is happy and able to rebuild his life. I must be a horrible person…” You broke down, and the tears began to fall again
Pierrot embraced you even tighter, but that only made you feel even more disgusted with yourself. You tried to push him away, you didn’t deserve his comfort or his compassion; you didn’t deserve anything, but your tired, aching body couldn’t do much to shake him off (though, even if you were the strongest person on the planet, Pierrot would still find a way not to let you go).
Pierrot stood there, holding you in his arms, gently stroking your back in circles, humming softly, trying to calm you down, and then he said, “I don’t know if this will help much, but at least I’ll always be here for you… You don’t have to worry about me hating you or seeing you as a burden. For me, if you’d let me stay by your side until your last breath, and even beyond that, it would be the greatest blessing anyone could bestow upon me.”
“So, my love, if only you could allow yourself to bless me in that way, you would make me the happiest man who ever walked the earth.” he said, giving you a gentle kiss on the back of your wrist.
You didn't answer; you weren't sure what to say or do in this situation. It all had you feeling so confused and overwhelmed...
So you simply stayed in Pierrot’s arms, not moving, not saying a word; even though you didn’t think you deserved it, you allowed yourself to just switch off your mind and rest for a moment
Meanwhile, Pierrot was enjoying the feeling of finally being able to hold you in his arms.
When Pierrot first learned of your decision to leave, it took him a while to accept it, well, maybe a lot, but he tried to respect your decision (he really did! Okay?) even though everything inside him told him it was the wrong thing to do. He had already learned that trying to force you to do something you didn't want to do or imposing his own ideas and decisions on you, even in the name of protecting you and worrying about your well-being, never brought anything good. On the contrary, every time he forced his idea of protection, it only brought disastrous consequences that ended up either pushing you away, making you angry, or causing him to lose your trust, and that was the last thing he wanted. So, that time, even when every cell in his body wanted to keep you there, he held back.
If you believed that being away for a while would make you feel better, then he would respect that (because it would only be for a while, obviously; there was no way you could think that “goodbye” would be forever, right?).
Even better, perhaps these months away from Harlequin would make you reflect, and you would finally realize that he wasn't the one for you…you would realize who truly deserved your love and to be by your side.
Perhaps that's why, when you met again in that place, with you appearing as his savior once more, Pierrot couldn't help but think that it was all definitely a sign, it had to be!
This had to be the second chance he had prayed for, the one he had begged fate for. Finally, things would be as they should have been since the beginning, and he wouldn't let this opportunity slip away. Finally, they could make up for lost time.
Pierrot ignored the voices that screamed—that roared! —inside his head, telling him that you didn't have much time left.
He couldn't accept it, he couldn't. There had to be a way, a miracle had to happen. His reunion with you was proof enough that miracles were indeed possible.
It was fine if you didn't want to return to the circus. He was more than willing to stay here by your side, even if he had to beg Jester. He would find a way to stay with you. Oh, what wouldn't he do, what wouldn’t he sacrifice just to spend even a fraction of eternity by your side.
But for that, he would first have to finish removing the Harlequin from your mind and from your heart.
He would take him out piece by piece if necessary, and then slowly replace them with pieces of himself, until you were filled with no one but him.
One of the first steps in his plan was to show you how unimportant you were to Harlequin; how easy it would be for him to replace you. He didn't love you, he never had. How could he, when that creature's heart had died so long ago? It had all been nothing more than a cruel trick that poisonous monster had concocted to torture him. What hurt him most was that it had taken you so long to see it. Of course, that wasn't your fault. Harlequin was very good when it came to lies and manipulation. (He had to admit that Harlequin was such a talented actor that, at times, even Pierrot found himself questioning whether the love he claimed to feel for you was real. Had Pierrot known him any less, he might have believed the performance entirely.) So the blame lay with Harlequin and his excellent scheme of lies, and also with Pierrot for not being good enough to pull you out of that illusion in which you were trapped.
But that would soon come to an end! When Pierrot could finally show you Harlequin's true face, then you would surely realize who it really was who had been by your side loving you all this time.
That was the plan…
Pierrot never imagined you'd react that way. It had been so stupid and careless of him. Of course you would react like this, you had such a fragile and noble heart…
So easily loving, so easily broken.
Guilt gnawed at him, yet he could never bring himself to confess the truth: none of it had happened by chance. Not the stranger who resembled you so uncannily, entering that night in the circus, their mind dulled by sugary popcorn. Not the pink ticket they had in their pocket. Every step that led them to Harlequin—and eventually led you to both of them—had been carefully arranged by his hand.
Fortunately, he had arrived in time, before you did something irreversible (and how could he not, since he'd never taken his eyes off you). Pierrot's skin prickled and his stomach churned when he thought about what might have happened otherwise.
No.
Pierrot would use this as a learning experience. From now on, he would be more careful and meticulous with his actions. He would never put you in a situation like that again.
Even though it had been hard and painful, in the grand scheme of things, it was for your own good, so in the end, it was justifiable… or at least that's what Pierrot told himself. When Pierrot felt you stirring in his arms, he came to his senses.
“I’m fine now, Pierrot, I promise you, you can leave.”
"Are you sure? I can stay if you want, you know what, it's better if I stay."
“No! Please, I don’t want to drag you into my problems anymore. If you stay, you’ll just make me feel more guilty.”
Pierrot didn't look convinced.
“Please, I’ll be fine.”
"Fine…" Pierrot began, "But I'll come tomorrow, okay? And you have to be here alive and well, or I'll never forgive myself for it. If you still care about me, please don't do anything foolish, okay?"
"Okay Pierrot, see you tomorrow"
"Yeah…"
Although Pierrot still seemed a little reluctant to leave you in such a state, he knew you; you could be a stubborn and obstinate person. Once you had decided on something, no one could change your mind. Even so, he took comfort in the thought that, if everything went as he planned, he would soon never have to be apart from you again. With a sigh of resignation, he placed a soft farewell kiss on the crown of your head and headed towards the window (it seemed that this habit would never break).
"Pierrot"
With half his body already halfway out the window, Pierrot turned to look at you
“Yes, dear?”
“Thank you…thank you for everything”
Pierrot stood there for a moment, watching you. He was trying to smile, but it wasn't a genuine smile. It seemed more like an expression of what? Sadness? Guilt? Shame?
You weren't sure...
"There's nothing to be thankful for, I’m doing this because I love you, you know that, right? And I always will…" After saying that, Pierrot finally disappeared through your window.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
When Harlequin saw you there in the tent, he didn't know how to react. It was as if his whole brain had short-circuited. He couldn't understand how that could have happened, if it had happened. Was it another hallucination of his?
Even when every voice in his head screamed at him to follow you, to catch up with you right then and there, as had been happening recently, when it came to you, his body remained motionless, frozen. Even when the person he was with, tried to get his attention again, they couldn't; he no longer saw them. The moment you re-entered his tent, everyone else ceased to exist for him. The only thing he saw, the only thing that occupied all his thoughts, was you, you and only you.
Why had you returned to the circus?
Why enter his green tent where it was obvious you'd find him?
Is that what you wanted, to find him?
He left that person there, abandoned, no matter how much they’d screamed after him, he no longer heard them, he was focused, trying to follow your scent to track you down.
He had to find you, talk to you, explain to you…
Even though he didn't really have to explain anything to you, because after all, you two weren't anything anymore, and besides, wasn't that what you told him when you broke up? To start over? To meet someone else?
So it didn't really make sense to go looking for you, not when he was already getting over you, not when he thought he would be able to live without you.
How could he have been reduced to such a desperate fool?
It took him a while to find where you were living now, based only on the faint trail of your essence that you had left behind, but he had finally succeeded.
There he was, outside your new house, watching you through your window. It seems you never broke the bad habit of having such poor privacy in your home, but as always, he would take advantage of your complete lack of self-preservation to get inside and finally talk to you. He would tell you everything that had happened, how he had felt. For the first time in his life, he would be honest about his feelings, and he hoped you would do the same.
His heart was beating so desperately that he feared it would jump out of his throat; he had never felt so nervous.
He was about to do it, when he saw something…
Someone
That person who held you in their arms, whom you clung to as if your life depended on it (Harlequin could almost swear you two even had kissed each other!)
Inside that house, there was you, and there was Pierrot…
There, sheltered in his arms, it seemed you were talking, but Harlequin didn't know what about; he couldn't get any closer or he risked being discovered by The Pierrot.
He felt the familiar sting of jealousy blooming in his chest, sharp and acidic, spreading through him like poison.
Then Harlequin remembered something you said a few moments ago in the tent.
“I’m sorry, I…I’m looking for Pierrot”
I'm looking for Pierrot…of course… How could he have overlooked that?
So that's what it was all about?
Suddenly, many things made sense to Harlequin.
Stupid.
So stupid.
Here he was, regretting having tried to be with someone else, deluded into believing there was still a chance between you two, and it turns out you've been sleeping around with Pierrot and making a fool of him for who knows how long.
It was such a ridiculous situation that he laughed, laughed like he’d never laughed before, driven mad by the hunger that had suddenly surged within him, making his stomach roar like a beast.
He laughed until he was out of breath, until the last tears he had left in those eyes (eyes he thought had long since gone dry) finally spilled out.
Then there was calm.
Harlequin knew what would happen next, that story he had been waiting to see repeat itself from the very beginning, which for some reason had veered off course (and though that had left him confused for a while) had finally resumed its true course.
This was what inevitably had to happen.
This night you would finally be where you were always meant to be.
Inside his very entrails.
— ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ──
He knew about the cruelty of human beings, damn it, he had experienced it firsthand, and yet he had fallen for your stupid game.
You'd made the Harlequin your personal fool, and you were going to pay dearly for that.
He waited patiently, until that damn sad clown finally left his side (though at that moment, who was really the best embodiment of a sad, hapless clown?)
Taking advantage of the darkness to hide from everyone's sight; from the people passing by, from the treacherous monster who had stolen your love, from your own eyes…
He entered your room and slowly approached the bed where you were sleeping.
Harlequin accidentally knocked over an empty medicine bottle.
That woke you up.
Panic filled your face, which now looked so gaunt.
If Harlequin weren't so controlled by his feelings of anger, perhaps he would have noticed how your eyes lit up, how a small smile graced your face when you saw him there, as if seeing him again truly made you happy.
“Harlequin?” you asked in a tone of confusion and perhaps hope. Was he really in front of you, or just a trick of your still half-asleep mind?
But the harlequin did not answer; his gaze shifted to the place where you used to wear your mark.
It was fading away, and his essence on you had almost completely disappeared.
Something roared inside him
He lunged at your neck and sank his teeth hard into the already faded mark.
You didn't even have time to scream; you bit your lips hard, trying to stop your cries, your sobs.
And instead of pushing him away, of attacking him, of trying to defend yourself, as always, you did everything the opposite way.
You tried with difficulty to dry the tears that were sliding down the harlequin's cheeks.
Had Harlequin been more sane, perhaps he would have realized that your arms, weakened by age, by illness, by pain and blood loss, were still trying to comfort him, that your voice saying "it's okay, it's okay, there's no need to cry" wasn't a mirage conjured by his broken imagination, it was real...it was real.
But it didn't matter anymore, he was too far gone.
You had gone too far with this charade; your attempt to protect the love of your life had ended in a giant ball of misunderstandings that ended up hurting both of you more.
Those were the consequences of your actions, which were not so well thought out.
Harlequin tried to do the only thing he knew how to do since the moment he was born.
Trying to fill the void in his insides.
When you understood what would happen next, for some reason you didn't panic. You accepted your fate.
Would it be terrifying to accept that a part of you was happy? Because maybe this was the only way a part of you would always be with him? Perhaps you just wished this didn't have to cause him so many tears.
"I'm sorry" would be your last words, even if he didn't hear them.
The bite on your neck went deeper.
And he began to tear and then chew.
The instinct of any living being is to fight for survival, that's why your body tried to struggle a little, but if a normal human being, in their prime, with health and strength, would be nothing against Harlequin's strength, what could an old, sick human, already weakened by blood loss, do? The truth is, very little.
But perhaps that, in its own way, was a blessing; your pain didn't last long, by the third bite you were already dead.
Harlequin was too distracted, biting, chewing, swallowing, and digesting, to notice that you were no longer fighting, that your voice had faded along with the sound of your heart.
He was more focused on deciding which part of you he would eat next.
He had already devoured your neck, where your throat, your larynx, your pharynx, your trachea were located; now you could no longer use them to create those intoxicating and deceitful sounds, you could no longer use them to trick him, to hurt him. (Or to say his name, to whisper a “good morning” when you wake up, and a “good night” before going to sleep, a “take care” before he leaves, an “I miss you” after a few days apart nor an “are you okay?” when you saw him looking down. No more whispered confessions in the middle of the night, no more bad jokes that ended up making him laugh against his will, no more sassy comebacks, and above all, no more “I love yous”)
He moved up until he reached your lips—the ones you used to kiss him with—and gave them one last kiss. He allowed himself to savor the moment for a few seconds, moving gently and slowly over them. Your lips were salty, so salty. He bit them and tore them off completely. (They would no longer be able to smile at him ever again).
He tasted your tongue and remembered the sensation of having it fighting, dancing and intertwining with his, now it was just a motionless and unresponsive muscle, so he kept biting and biting until there was nothing left.
Then he came to your eyes. Those eyes that had bewitched him, since the first time he saw himself reflected in them…making him believe they lit up only for him, now they were devoid of all light, they would no longer shine for him or anyone else. (Never again would he spend the morning waiting for your eyes to open, only to see himself reflected in them once more).
They burst with a little pop! Like cherries between his teeth.
Once Harlequin had eaten everything that used to make up your face, he took one of your hands…
He noticed your fingers; your ring finger was bare, only a small mark (now as faded as the one that used to be on your neck) adorned the skin. He imagined it, and yet, it still hurt to see it.
Harlequin put your finger to his mouth and, just like that time, bit down. But this time he didn't hold back, careful of leaving just a small painless mark. This time he bit down hard until the bone cracked, until it broke and he was able to tear it from your hand. He chewed that delicate little thing in his mouth and swallowed. The same fate befell the other fingers. The same fate befell your hands afterward. (Now, you would no longer be able to lace your fingers through his during aimless walks. Nor nudge him lightly whenever he said something foolish. Smooth back his hair, cradle his face in your hands, or idly draw circles against his skin on peaceful nights. He wouldn’t be able to feel them running over his skin during wild nights anymore, and they would never again be able to wipe away the tears he always refused to acknowledge).
It was time to move on with your arms, your arms that once embraced him, would never again be able to hold him, to wrap him during the difficult nights; they could no longer shelter him when the world became too heavy. Those arms that had once been his favorite cage were now nothing more than broken bars. (But he still didn’t feel free)
He decided to save your torso for last.
So he went down to your thighs, your thighs that were once his favorite place to rest his head (oh how he loved it, after a long and heavy day of work, to come and simply lie down on them, while he felt your fingers pleasantly playing with his hair and gently caressing his horns...there would be no more moments like that again)
He reached for your legs (the ones that had allowed you to run away with him after pulling a prank, the ones that walked a few steps ahead, even taking little hops when you got excited about something, the ones that had a habit of tapping him lightly to get his attention, the ones who were never fast enough to beat him during the impromptu races you organized for silly reasons, the ones who let you wander aimlessly with him for hours, the ones who had stepped on him countless times when he taught you to dance, the ones who closed the distance between you when you wanted to hug him, the ones that, stubbornly and despite the weight and Harlequin’s constant refusals, had once supported him when he’d hurt his own legs, so you had decided to carry him bridal-style to his tent. How embarrassed he had been that day, but to tell the truth, it had also been a sweet memory he used to treasure) they had been good legs, until they served to walk you away from him…
After a long time of biting and swallowing, there was only one more thing to eat, his last meal, your heart.
The quiet heart, still warm, now rested in his hands. He didn't know yet when it had stopped beating for him, but it didn't matter anymore, because once he consumed it, no one would ever take it away from him again; it would be his alone, for all eternity.
Slowly, he brought it to his mouth; his lips rested upon it as if he were giving it one last kiss, and then, he bit down.
The first rays of the sun gently caressed his face; for a moment he remembered how your hands felt when you stroked his face the times you woke up before him, and he pretended to still be asleep to enjoy the touch a little longer without having to pretend that he didn't like it when you were sweet and tender with him.
The light brought him back to his senses a little, and he turned to look at the scene below him. The spot where you had been just a few hours ago was now nothing but a pool of deep red, hot, and viscous fluid, along with a few bones, covering the entire bed.
How strange.
You were already gone, yet a sob could be heard somewhere in the room.
You were already gone, yet cries of pain and despair echoed through the air.
How was that possible, when he was the only one left in the room?
Whose screams were they? Whose weeping filled the silence?
Harlequin had devoured you completely, but for some reason the void remained unfilled.
Harlequin rested his head on what remained of your chest.
There were no longer arms that would cradle him now, so for the time being, your rib cage would have to suffice.
And, as he remembered the sound your heart used to make, now dissolving deep inside his stomach
Harlequin pinched his arm again.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
He was still here.
