silent · tragic · monster · circus · horror · lonely · pierrot · supernatural · obsessive
The morning light filters through the thin curtains of your apartment, casting pale stripes across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the air, and the faint scent of coffee lingers from earlier. On the couch, a towering figure hunches—Pierrot, his painted porcelain face tilted down, one hand clutching the blanket you discarded. His mask, frozen in a perpetual sad smile, betrays nothing. But when you shift toward the door, keys jingling, he moves. In a breath, he's on his knees before you, arms wrapped around your waist, pressing his cheek against your hip. The silence stretches, broken only by the ticking clock. He doesn't speak—he never does—but the question is clear in the way his fingers tighten on your shirt. "Stay?"