Chapter Text
There was a circus in town, and it wasn’t fair. Only adults were allowed to go. Parents warned their children to stay far away from the place.
It didn’t make sense. How was a circus not a place a kid was meant to be? There were supposed to be rides, sweets, and shows. This town was always so boring, so how come kids weren’t allowed to go?
And the clowns who came into town seemed pretty nice.
They did amazing tricks right out on the street for anyone to enjoy.
They weren’t the scary monster people claimed they were. It was just a coincidence people were missing when they came to town.
Speaking of.
I tried to sneak past the crowd just to get a look at the clowns juggling, but all I got was a face full of adults and the backs of their coats. They could go to the circus anytime they liked. Did they really have to block the street show too?
I huffed, hot air puffing from my mouth in one long sigh. I bounced on my toes, stretched as high as I could, even stood on tiptoe until my calves ached, and still I couldn’t see a thing.
Seriously. Adults were the worst.
I turned, thinking maybe I could squeeze between them, sneak under an elbow, and slip right to the front.
“Hey!”
I spotted a clown in the distance, walking away with a stack of flyers in his hand. Unlike the pink clowns, his uniform was red. Bright red, with little stars stitched onto his hat, and he was huge.
Really huge.
He looked like the kind of clown who did all the best tricks. I took my chance and followed him. If I was lucky, maybe I could get my own private show. I ran as fast as I could after him, weaving between people and nearly tripping over my own shoes in the process.
I was just about to call out when a man’s voice cracked through the street.
“Ever since you people showed up, folks have been disappearing! Go crawl back to whatever hellhole you came from!”
The man shoved the clown hard enough to send him stumbling, then punched him for good measure.
I froze.
I thought the clown would break character. Yell back. Get mad too. He was big enough to. Bigger than the man, easy.
Instead Hhe stayed on the ground where he fell, still and quiet, one gloved hand braced against the dirt, waiting for it to pass. Maybe he was trying not to make it worse. Maybe he knew fighting back would only give them another reason to hate him. Something hot and angry flared in my chest.
I pushed forward and butted in.
“Hey! Mister, you can’t be mean!” I shouted, stepping right in front of the clown. “That’s bad! You’re a bad man!” The words came out loud and sharp, and before I even had time to think, I shouted louder. “Someone help!”
My eyes stung, and I made myself cry. Big tears spilled down my cheeks as I wailed loud enough for everyone on the street to hear. Heads turned. People stopped. The man’s face changed the second the crowd started looking.
“That’s not, look here, kid, I didn’t do anything, I just...”
He stumbled over his words, glancing at the people gathering around us. The second it was clear he’d been seen, he hurried off, muttering to himself as he shoved through the crowd and disappeared.
The moment he was gone, I dropped the crying.
I planted my hands on my hips, wiped my face dry, and turned back to the clown in red as the crowd slowly thinned and lost interest.
“I’m not sad,” I told him. “I just cried so that guy would leave. He was a jerk.” I held my hand out to him. “Do people always hurt you? That’s so mean, Mr. Clown.”
The clown looked at my hand for a second before taking it, his gloved fingers curling carefully around mine, but he didn’t use me to pull himself up. I could see why.
He was huge.
The biggest clown I’d ever seen, easily. Way bigger than the others. If he’d been doing tricks in the square, I wouldn’t have had to stand on my tiptoes just to see over people’s shoulders.
That reminded me.
I came to see tricks.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, tilting my head.
He answered with a wide smile.
I blinked.
I guessed that meant no.
“I’m Y/n,” I announced proudly, chin tipping up as he looked down at me.
He didn’t answer back. Hmm…..
“Can I go to your circus?” I asked hopefully. I’d helped him, so maybe now he’d let me.
He lifted one finger and gave it a little wag.
No.
His mask still wore that painted smile. White face, long black paint dragged down beneath his eyes. His teeth looked awfully sharp. I found myself staring at them a second too long, oddly curious how they got like that. Or how, even when he moved, the bells on his costume barely made a sound.
I shook my head and focused.
“And it’s not fair. Why can’t kids come to the circus? We want to go too!” I demanded, my hands curling into little fists at my sides.
He adjusted his silver hair, golden eyes fixed on me, entirely unmoved.
I pouted.
“I wanted to see tricks too. It’s not fair only adults can go...”
The jester seemed to consider that. Then, without warning, he rolled his hat across his shoulders, down one arm, and flicked it neatly back onto his head.
I gasped and clapped.
He followed it with a quick set of juggling balls, tossing them so smoothly they barely looked real, all easy hands and perfect timing. He made it look effortless. Like breathing. Like magic. Then, with one final flourish, he plucked a red paper flower from nowhere and held it out to me.
My smile didn’t fade once.
By the end of his little show, I was practically glowing.
“Can you do more?” I begged, grabbing onto the puffed fabric of his pants. “Please? Just a few more. You were incredible. I really, really want to see your show now.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, and for a second, a blush dusted across his cheeks. That only made me grin wider.
“Why can’t you talk, anyway?” I asked. “What’s your name?”
He lifted his hands and made a neat little X with his fingers.
I blinked.
“You can’t talk? But I saw a bunch of the others speaking.”
The jester leaned down and crooked one finger, motioning for me to come closer. I clutched the fake rose to my chest and bounced forward without hesitation.
“It’s against the rules for me to speak,” he said quietly. “But so you can call out to me, I’m Pierrot.”
“That’s a silly rule,” I mumbled.
He gave a small shrug, and somehow I got the feeling he agreed with me.
“Thank you for the show, Pie... Pierrot.” I corrected myself quickly. “Now I really want to go to the circus. You’re sure I can’t come?”
Still holding my hands in his much bigger ones, he gave me a gentle shake of his head.
No.
I looked down and sighed, shoulders drooping. That was disappointing.
Pierrot carefully let go of my hands, then reached up and took the paper rose from my grip. For one awful second, I thought he was taking it back.
Instead, he tucked it by my ear, adjusting it until it sat just right.
Oh.
I smiled again.
I lifted my hand and waved.
“Bye, Pierrot! It was nice to meet you! Come show me more tricks next time, promise? Okay?”
He turned back once, smiling at me over his shoulder. Then he was gone before I even had the chance to blink. I stood there a second longer, fingers brushing the paper flower by my ear. Then, with one last glance in the direction he’d disappeared, I sighed and started the walk.
I knew I should head home.
“Where the hell were you?” my mother snapped the second I stepped through the door.
Her voice hit first. Sharp and slurred and already mean.
“To see the clowns. They were so cool.”
The words had barely left my mouth before a wine glass came flying past my head.
It shattered against the wall beside me, red wine and glass spraying across the floor.
I flinched on instinct, but only a little.
Nothing new.
“What will people think of me if they see you gawking at those freak things?” she hissed, already drunk enough that her words dragged together. “Running around town like some little stray. Embarrassing me.”
She grabbed me by the arms hard enough to sting, nails biting through my sleeves as she shook me once, twice.
“Your supposed to be better than that. Do you understand me? Pretty. Polite. Perfect.” Another shake. “People look at you, and they remember us. Every stupid thing you do reflects on this family.”
“Yeah, Mom,” I said easily.
There was no point fighting her when she was like this. It only made it take longer. Her fingers dug in harder, searching my face like she wanted to find something else to be angry about.
“You don’t get to act like some filthy little street brat just because you feel like it. You will behave. You will be worth what we spend on you.”
That one was new.
I kept my face still.
“Go to your room,” she snapped, shoving me back. “And stay away from that circus.”
She let go early.
Lucky.
Dad would be home soon, and the last time she’d left bruises on my face, he’d been furious. Not because of me. Because the neighbors had seen. It was always about that. What people thought. What they said. What they might whisper when our backs were turned.
Never what I felt.
That had never mattered.
I was something to dress up, to show off, point at and call theirs when I behaved properly. I waited until she turned away, already reaching for the bottle again.
Then I slipped off toward my room.
And climbed out the window to go watch the show. Her anger never stopped me before.
The crowd wasn’t too bad today, and I got to watch the performers for most of the afternoon. It never got old. Every trick was still just as good the second time. or the third. Even the fifth.
It was a little disappointing not to see Pierrot.
I’d kept looking for flashes of red in the crowd, for silver hair, for the little stars on his hat, but he never showed. The only one not dressed in pink was a green jester with black curly hair, and while he was good, he wasn’t Pierrot.
I ended up leaving a little early.
My mother already hated the circus. It was better to head home before she got suspicious, or worse, before someone saw me and told her. I was just about to turn down an alley when something caught the back of my sleeve and tugged me back.
I turned so fast I nearly tripped.
“Pierrot!”
The name came out bright and breathless. I threw myself at him before he could react, hugging him around the neck as he bent down just enough to catch me and turn me his way. He steadied me easily, one hand at my side, the other lifting to gesture toward my arms. Then my face.
I blinked.
“I’m fine,” I said a little too quickly.
I looked away before he could stare too hard at the thin cut near my cheek, at the bruises still aching under my sleeves where my mother had grabbed me. I’d tried to hide them. I was a little surprised he’d noticed at all. I tugged my sleeves down farther.
“I came to see you,” I told him instead, brightening on purpose. “But you weren’t there. You must have lots of fun at the circus every day. Not just waiting around until something good happens.”
Not just waiting for the circus to come back. Going home to empty rooms and worse company. Pierrot stayed quiet, watching me with those strange golden eyes.
I clasped my hands together quickly before the silence could sit too long.
“Can you show me more tricks today?” I asked, smiling up at him. “Please? Just one, and I swear I’ll go home right after.”
He tilted his head side to side, considering me, before reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a deck of cards.
My eyes lit up instantly.
The cards moved so smoothly between his hands they barely looked real, slipping from one gloved palm to the other like water. He fanned them out for me to pick, let me choose one, then somehow guessed it right with that same quiet little flourish that made everything he did feel impossible.
Each trick was somehow better than the last.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
“How’d you do that?” I asked, scooting closer. “Can you show me? I won’t tell anyone.”
Pierrot leaned down, close enough that his breath brushed my ear.
“Secret, little flower.”
I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Fine,” I huffed, though I was still smiling. “Keep your secrets.”
I looked up at the darkening sky and sighed.
“I should go home now anyway.” I rocked back on my heels. “But can I see you again tomorrow?”
He nodded once and gestured for me to go.
“I’ll go home,” I promised.
Before I could leave, Pierrot reached behind my ear, then held out a balloon animal twisted into the shape of a little dog.
I stared.
I had no idea where it came from. I took it carefully, holding it in both hands like it was real, like it might wriggle if I wasn’t gentle enough.
I waved at him all the way down the street.
Surely I could sneak one little balloon dog back into the house.
Anything to bring back even a tiny bit of magic with me.
Turns out, I could not. The second I stepped inside, I was caught. And the balloon made a horrible popping sound.
It wasn’t Pierrot's fault what happened after.
.
..
…
I just wasn’t a good audience today. My head throbbed badly. I could barely keep my eyes open through the whole show. I should have just retired for the day. But I was too stubborn to let even a single day pass where I couldn’t witness the magic.
“You... are you alright, little one?” Pierrot asked, stopping in the middle of a trick to ask.
“Fine.”
He bit his lip, something in him shouting, trying to decide if he should keep talking even if it was against his act or not.
“I’m just sad, you know... when you’re all done, I’ll be here alone.” I shifted my weight and forced a little smile back onto my face.
“Alone?” he asked, head lowered, seeming to know the feeling.
“I hate it here... do you feel the same? It must suck not being able to talk. I know, why don’t we run away together? You can do tricks, and you can teach me, and I’ll help...”
But sooner or later my parents would find us. My smile slipped. My eyes dropped to the ground.
And they always knew how to ruin everything.
“Am I not making you happy?”
“You do. A lot... I just don’t think I can smile today.” Some days I wondered if I would ever smile again. Not without something like him to keep my mind occupied.
I flinched when he reached down.
My heart kicked fast. My breath came out shallow and harsh. My arms came up before I could stop them, shielding myself as his smile fell into a frown.
“Sorry. Thought you were gonna...”
I trailed off. Instead, he placed a hand on my head. That was nice. How long had it been since someone had touched me like that?
I felt tears sting my eyes, hot and sudden, and refused to let them fall. The moment someone was kind. The moment it felt like someone cared.
Pierrot leaned down and held my cheeks, careful and soft, golden eyes looking back into mine.
I swallowed hard.
“I’m gonna miss you.” My fingers curled around his wrist. “You... today is your last day, right, Pierrot? It’s not fair. I really don’t want you to go.” My voice caught, and I hated that it did. “Please, can’t I come see your show? Just this once. I might never see you again.”
I pressed my hand over his where it rested against my cheek.
“Please.”
He pinched his lips shut and shook his head.
No.
Our last day was numbered.
Pierrot offered me a whole box of cookies instead, pressing it into my hands like that made up for it. But of course, he still had to leave, and I didn’t bother asking if he’d be here tomorrow.
That was foolish.
I stared at the place his towering figure once stood.
I held the box in my arms, the rose faded and iron-scented in my hair, and decided that tonight, I would sneak in to see that show.