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这太美味了……我还能吃三大碗……🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Yes or No ---The Freak Circus Fanfic By Destinysquared

Pairing: Pierrot/Gender Neutral MC ~~~~~WITH QUICK SKETCHES BY ME THROUGHOUT THE FANFIC ITSELF :D~~~~~~~

Summary: You've been sharing your lunch breaks with Pierrot for a few days now only to realize, you know nothing about him. Since the clown cannot speak in public, it's up to you to try and find out what he's truly thinking about. (Author notes at the end, also this fic can is on my A03 linked here (leave a comment or kudos if you are able!)

---BTW I'm sorry this is so MC focused, but I promise it gets good at the end.

You didn’t remember when it all started to become a regular thing, having The Pierrot join you during your lunch breaks, but it was a welcome change of pace. His daily visits weren’t too strange, were they? That the other circus members would regularly visit the café where you worked just made sense. This was after all the closest place for them to get coffee, aside from a small kiosk with odd hours. Though the pleasant company in front of you more than made up for the small warning in the back of your mind, signaling that something was off about the clowns’ frequent visits.

Pierrot with his usual wide smile stared at you cradling a cup of soup on your shared table. Beaming at his piercing gaze, you immediately began to recount every last boring detail of your day to him. Knowing that any conversation in such a public place would be limited to mostly you, Pierrot’s rapt attention never failed to ignite the old “Class Clown” tendencies you had back in high school. Inspiring you to want to perform for the silent performer.

You exaggerated your exhaustive schedule to him, the sticky counters you’ve bussed, the orders you almost (but didn’t) get wrong, the best customers, and the worst customers. Naturally, during the latter bit of your story, his face changed to one that you’ve only seen whenever Harlequin was around.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled at his angry, toothy expression; twirling a spoon playfully in your now tepid cup of soup. “If it helps, I gave those jerks wayyyy less whipped cream than they asked for. That’ll show em’!”

And just like that, his smile returned.

It was touching really, that Pierrot cared so much about the little things in your life.

Though your guarded heart wouldn’t allow you to think too deeply on why.

Sadly, lunch breaks had to be shorter these days due to the lack of help in the café. Luckily, your boss did manage to find someone to come in temporarily every now and again. The extra hands helped give you both some breathing room while fishing for a full-time replacement. It was during one such day that you found yourself at one of the café’s small two-person tables; comfortably sitting across from Pierrot just as a crowd of patrons swarmed inside.

Wincing at the scene, you empathized with both your boss and the new temp as they dealt with the onslaught. Said boss noticed you were pushing back your chair, ready to help (much to the silent clown’s dismay), but the tattooed man waved for you to keep still and enjoy the rest of your break. To which you smiled gratefully, eagerly turning back to your crimson companion.

Then, your smile faltered.

Pierrot had grabbed a few of your unused napkins and began tearing them slightly into little shapes. Sometimes during your breaks, The Pierrot would lean forward to whisper things to you. Whether they be answers to your questions or sweet compliments that made your heart flutter more than you’d care to admit. Frankly and perhaps to some, pathetically, it was a highlight of your day. Now though? The place was far too crowded for the usual small, whispered talk you both often shared. Naturally, for the sake of his act, he wouldn’t risk being heard, and that made your smile start to dip.

Now what?

The thought of not being able to communicate with him as easily as normal was disappointing. As much as you loved an engaging audience, it felt unfair to be the ringleader in a two-person act. The sweet clown who never failed to entertain, gave candy alongside a tip for every shake he ordered, listening to you with such reverence that you found yourself speaking more and more to him each day, was now heavily concentrated on a piece of flimsy paper. There was nothing either of you could do.

You ate with The Pierrot in silence for most of the lunch break today, staring occasionally at his clawed hands tearing the poor napkins he held to shreds. Memories of past (failed) relationships made your brain drastically interpret this small obstacle as him being bored of you. Though to be fair, what did you even know about Pierrot? Are you….friends? Does he like his job? What’s going through his head right now? You couldn’t tell and suddenly, you had the urge to ask.

It was frustrating to be in the now crowded the café, yet it was far too cold to eat somewhere secluded outside. Plus, the end of your break was drawing near. No time to look for an empty diner to sit in or something. This is frustrating, you thought to yourself while sipping another bit of your soup harshly. For some reason, the urge to talk to him today was burning inside. You really wanted to communicate with him. More than that, you wanted his attention.

Suddenly, an idea popped in your head and a slow, mischievous smirk began to form.

“Hey, want to play a game?”

Pierrot’s head bolted up so suddenly at the sound of your voice that you almost thought he pulled something by the action. His jingling head tilting with a confused expression urged you to continue. However, your throat convulsed a bit as you held back a laugh at his eagerness. Yet still, you raised your spoon as a mock microphone for the now captive audience.

“AHEM!”, you started again with your best announcer voice. “Let’s see folks, if I can guess what The Pierrot is thinking.”

His expression was blank, the torn napkin in his fingers started to droop.

You explained regardless, “It’s simple. I know you can’t talk, but that doesn’t mean you can’t communicate.”

A dramatic pause ensued as Pierrot blinked at your amateurish showmanship.

Leaning forward with a grin wide enough to rival your companion’s, you continued in a softer, yet still loud enough to be heard over the customers’ cacophony, voice.

“The rules are thus: I get to ask as many questions as I’d like BEFORE my break ends. All to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours. Yes or no questions only of course. If I get it wrong before time runs out, I’ll personally make you a milkshake on the house. What do you say?”

For a moment it seemed you lost him. Though you did notice a small blush form on his surprised face when you leaned closer to the reddish clown. Suddenly, your hammy efforts were rewarded as a large smile formed on his masked face, followed by an eager nod. The jingling bells of his hat were barely heard amongst the crowd that seemed to never end. Even a woman who bumped into your chair as you leaned back into your seat couldn’t damped your mood now.

This was going to be fun.

“So….what is The Pierrot thinking? What is he thinking?” You tap your spoon on the edge of the soup cup contemplatively.

Pierrot was admittedly very hard to read, you knew there was a good chance he’d get that milkshake. Not that you’d admit defeat just yet. Still, his burning gaze filled you with something inexplicable, it was almost addictive to have this sort of attention on your person. No one, not even the bored students of your former school days ever looked at you this way as you pretended to perform. And though Pierrot’s hands were once again twisting and cutting up the napkin he coveted, his focus was finally back on you. Fully.

“Are you thinking about anything from the circus?”

He shook his head.

“Ah won’t Harlequin be disappointed,” you tease, chuckling at The Pierrot’s darkened expression. “Ok ok! Sorry. How about, milkshakes?”

He shook again. You were getting desperate and began to stare at his working hands.

“Are you thinking about….paper?”

Pierrot raised a palm over his mouth in a laughing gesture while shaking his head with an amused grin.

“Ok funny guy, you asked for it,” you warned with a laugh. “Are you thinking about something in this room?”

Suddenly his eyes brightened as he nodded vigorously at your guess. You smiled. Now we were getting somewhere.

“Ok….is it about the coffee?” you got your answer swiftly. “No? Well, we ruled out milkshakes….Cakes? Our danishes? The smell of Clorox on the table?”

And once more, you were batting zeroes. With a slight sweat beading on the back of your neck, your eyes darted to the clock behind Pierrot and the crowd. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time left before you had to join your co-workers in the battlefield that is known as customer service, and sadly admit defeat.

“What about…….the people in here?” you asked with a nervous shrug.

Pierrot’s grin grew wider but he only gave a small nod as he raised one pointer finger up by his face.

“What?” you squinted. “One? Ohhh wait? You’re thinking about just one person, then?”

He nodded, this time more enthusiastically, enough so for his many bells to ring once more.

“Huh…so you’re thinking about someONE, not someTHING?” you blinked realizing.

It’s not like Pierrot knew anyone else in the room, as far as you could tell. No one from the circus seemed to be on the endless line formed at the counter. Plus, your boss had always tried to stay away from the performers, preferring to count inventory whenever they were around. So it likely wasn’t him.

It took you less time than usual, but more than most to FULLY realize.

Was it…?

“Me?”

Pierrot then gently cupped his hands together, the torn-up napkin still resting but now hidden between his palms. He nods happily, eagerly with a growing blush on his face as you finally guessed right. Your mouth parted slightly at this revelation. Heart skipping a beat for only just a moment before your anxiety quickly stilled the effect.

You’ve seen each other nearly every day.

Of course he’s thought about you.

Of course it made sense.

It didn’t mean anything else. He’s just being nice. That’s what friends do…..if we even were friends.

Or maybe, it’s a joke?

You quickly scoffed into a short laugh, giving your best Shakespearian pose. Hands both on your chest, head tilted back. You decided to go along with what you perceived as a friendly jest from The Pierrot.

He’s from the circus after all, isn’t this how they do things?

“Aww you’re thinking about me?” you gushed with flamboyance. “I’m flattered, but what could you be thinking about specifically? Hm? Oh. I think I know.”

You then stretched one arm towards the clown, the other still on your chest. Eyes now closed with a cat-like grin on your face.

“You’re thinking about how utterly gorgeous I am and how meeting me was the greatest thing to ever happen to you in your life.”

It’s a shame your eyes were closed. You would have noticed the shine in Pierrot’s. How they simultaneously shimmered and shook like dishware in an earthquake. The way his body stiffened, holding back an unfamiliar hunger. For a moment, the silent clown panicked. Wondering if you truly could read minds. How much easier and harder it would be then, wouldn’t it? His heart stilled, gripping the arteries that held it in place like stretched violin strings. His hands, clasping together, fingers tight but palms apart so as not to crush the torn paper napkin between them. Your eyes were closed, and for the first time since he’s known you, Pierrot showed his true feelings while you were awake. Only after your eyes opened, confused by his frozen, and slightly crooked smile, did his heart begin to beat once more.

Just as you were about to ask if he was ok, reassure him that you were in on the joke he clearly must have been making, claws suddenly clamped down on your tender flesh.

Pierrot gently but quickly grabbed your outstretched hand.

He jutted forward like a tiger on a mouse, yet he cradled your fingers like porcelain. One clawed appendage below, touching the back of your hand, the other on your palm. It didn’t hurt or anything, but it startled you. You gave out a small gasp at the terrifying yet soft gesture. The sheer juxtaposition of his bold actions with tenderness was overwhelming. Confusing. Dizzying.

Eventually, you met his eyes again as he slowly nodded towards you with a gaze so piercing it rivaled the sharpness of his hidden blades.

Soon, Pierrot finally let you go.

Your arm lowered a bit without his hands to keep it in the air, but you were too entranced by his actions to notice the gift he left in your palm. Gulping, you felt your face began to heat up as you had trouble looking away from his eyes. Eyes that almost seemed like a cat’s slitted stare in this light, ready to pounce, but you shook your head quickly at the impossible thought.

Then, you noticed.

In your hands was the torn-up napkin Pierrot had been playing with this whole time, or at least you thought it was. Instead of just scraps of paper one would assume he was just slicing and twisting out of boredom, was instead shaped like a rose.

A rose just for you.

Like the tinnitus you occasionally got from having dealt with screeching Karens all day, the sound of the crowded room you both sat in faded for a while. Even the call of your boss telling you that your break was over, barely made it past your ears. This whole time Pierrot continued to study at you with a smaller, more serious smile than he usually had. Golden apertures capturing your every move. It caused a shiver down your spine. One could swear they heard the clown breathe harder as your mouth parted and cheeks flushed a deeper red.

Your hand curled slightly around the napkin flower that he gave you, caging it gently.

This was your prize. You won the game.

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Author Notes: So like....I'M SORRY I'm so wordy guys. Like soooo wordy. But still, I hope you like and I hope it makes sense? Sorry though for those who may find some terms I've used difficult to understand. Sadly english is my only language so I've used terms/colloquialisms that are familiar to me in here. Still....had this idea in mind for days.....wrote it out in two hours....edited in three hours throughout this week. And made these sketches real quick to help. Cause I also felt bad that this fic MAINLY focuses on the MC more than our beloved Pierrot. Still, I hope you like. Haven't written a fanfic in over 15 years so like....thank you @nekoboydreams for inspiring me artistically as both an artist and a writer though funnily enough, I'm also a video editor and I 'might' have plans for something with pierrot there but i haven't even THOUGHT about that so don't hold your breath guys. Enjoyyyy either way. Got this fic again on A03 linked here.

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