Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Nothing to lose, nothing to gain. When you're about to die, they always tell you about the cold, not the warmth that settles in your chest. I remember begging because screaming wasn't appropriate. My throat was sore, my legs were crushed under the rubble. My family seemed to smile. I yearned for their faces to distort the other way in our final moments. Still, my vision only showed crooked teeth, as if Death had relieved them in some way. I wanted tears, I wanted fear, I wanted the people around to be alive. That's why I prayed, my turn was coming.

That day was the first time my eyes bled at the sight of something forbidden, something a human wasn't supposed to see.

I was dragged out of the classroom, or rather kicked out while my classmates stared with wide eyes and even greater whispers. The teacher called an ambulance -I think-. Even the air seemed blurry. Questions upon questions were layered on my heaved breathing so I babbled the only thing on my mind :

-"I'm gonna die today-"

Hushing.

-"Calm down. We're here, you're safe."

Surely they were right, a victim of hallucinations. There was no way any of the blood was real, let alone the pain still in my bones. My perfectly healthy bones. So, I let the mystery pill gurgle with my coughs and sleep welcomed me.

I should've known back then.

Sleep is Death's brother.

When I woke up, I heard the news, my school had been destroyed and my family was there. The teachers I didn't like, the classmates that were somewhat worried, those who did not care. The ones I had chatted with, even the ones I hadn't. The janitor...the guests...the kids nearby...

My family...

Why would they pick me up? Of all days...of all possible outcomes...All the times I had to tell them how I felt about our family -everything- all down the drain. As if they weren't but a sack of meat and fat which happened to have made me-

The birds chatting by the trees were the only witnesses of their final moments.

No.

The birds and I.

He kept walking close to the walls, the road could be dangerous. A single slip up and a car could end his sunny day. Sunny was a strong word, his mornings looked the same, some timid blue before getting covered up by clouds and icy winds. He should probably buy a new scarf. Although, each year that's what he thought until summer rolled back around and he hadn't bothered.

What if he died from a cold?

[...] shook the silly thought away before heading for the coffee shop.

His visions had been...quiet for some months, which worsened his anxiety. He shouldn't rely on them too much, but he'd gotten used to knowing more than most. Technically, if he closed his eyes and found some inner peace he could force one out, but his body would remind him that it was -cheating- unnecessary.

He almost bumped into someone, so concentrated on what-ifs, he made use of his lips to mouth an apology. The man stared above him and his paranoia made his head spin in the direction of his gaze.

-"Watch your steps, asshole."

Turning back around, the man was already too far to strike a reply. Still, what was he looking at?

There were only posters for the circus that came into their quiet town. Littered upon the floor in stacks. It was like the pink lads printed them and threw them in the same hour. Upon closer inspection...it looked like the tourists were the ones dropping them. He couldn't blame everyone, the advertising was heavy and the residents were tired. Still, he couldn't help but pick up some and thrash them deliberately loudly. People could fall banana-peel style and hit their head! No one cared...Nobody but him. He felt responsible, he'd never met a visionary such as himself. Being able to change fate... If he had a normal life he wouldn't care but if it saves others...

The "others" in question thought him crazy.

He looked down at the papers in the bin.

"The Freak Circus of Horrors"

Heh. He should apply.

He'd make the best attraction, unlike this circus his horror was very much real.

Daydreaming again... May a thousand curses fall upon the trashcan. As if by spite, the wind picked up and said papers flew in his direction. No, he definitely wasn't going. The coffee shop was his sanctuary. The classy lights outside hadn't been operated yet, despite the darker atmosphere that had taken place the last few days. His boss was smoking outside, morning poison indicating that Carol was tidying up before opening. He did a double take before waving lazily.

-"Mornin' boss."

He nodded in return, without missing a bit he gestured to the inside of the store.

-"Take a minute with her. I think she's getting a little worked up today."

Blinking once, twice then giving him the look.

-"Why don't you, Natanael ?" It was rhetorical but having his boss's insight was nice.

The nicer surprise was the gape at the sound of his name.

-"She needs someone who isn't paying her." He deadpanned.

Aight. Fair. He wouldn't lay his family issues on him either. Not that he had any left.

-"What are you chuckling for?" Said the man who never laughed at his jokes even after years trying.

-"Nothing, just thinking too much."

Before the older man could agree, [...] was pushing the door with his hands on the glass. Bad habit but he'll clean up soon enough. Coffee shop meant coffee beans, at least a good coffee was grounded on the spot. The amount of written "coffee" smelled just as much as the counter Carol was swiping. Her hair hadn't been straightened today, nor was a wig in sight. The last time those curls were natural was during a very difficult period for her. In that familiar apron, she looked professional and not fuming inside. The silence was only accompanied by the sound of machines turned on.

-"Carol, Caroline, Coraline-"

Her head snapped up. He felt bad for her neck, but that's the reaction he hoped for and not a sad sigh.

-"Don't call me that. I hate this movie and you know it."

He wanted to laugh as he passed the breaker to get his own apron from the back. His keys still in his locker. He didn't bother taking them out, nothing precious was contained there. Lying here and there were posters he liked, old shoes, some bandages, batteries...and secret snacks. There was one thing of value...it was a single notebook. At first glance it appeared too simple. Anyone would close it back without much thought but he knew what it contained. He had written down every single detail of his visions. Thankfully, if a thief truly had time to waste and read it they would only believe it was a diary. A macabre one but...Like he said, no one would steal such a thing.

He hadn't felt safe anywhere in years. The coffee shop would be the exception he'd remain in for as long as the boss admitted him in. There was a fire extinguisher, double safety exit, the windows were sound proof therefore thick enough, the customers were manageable and less likely to pull out a weapon, he had one knife close to the counter but safely tucked-

Carol called out his name. He pulled out the apron and tied it loosely in a small rush to do as his Boss instructed.

-"Need my help?"

She slowly plucked out a yucky piece of metal from the ice cream machine.

-"This thing won't start! I've been trying for ages!!"

The strawberry covered piece was plopped in front of him.

-"It was because of this stupid fucking shit!" She almost panted if not for her flaring nostrils.

She might burst before the ice cream machine does...

-"Sooooo..." [...] managed to clear out. "Besides the surprise bean...Got any other issues?"

-"No." She took a new cloth to wipe the counter again.

He wanted to run. Instead he picked up the broom. The ground was already perfect but he needed an excuse to stay in her perimeter. He did some efforts to remain socially acceptable, not anxious at all. Really nonchalant and cool. So cool Carol would finally relax and chat a little- And oh god why was he trying so hard? He hated that.

She sensed his awkwardness. Her thumb pressed on a playlist he might like. She cleared her throat.

-"I was thinking..."

The tiniest bit of jazz, not the one you listen to in order to fall asleep but not overly loud started playing. She almost whispered the next part.

-"We should hangout."

An offer, a nice one but [...] hadn't grasped the sudden shift in her voice.

-"We already are...?"

She stopped in her tracks to the chairs.

-"I meant outside of work, [...] ."

Classic duo of introvert and...introvert but more assertive? He took too long to process her words, she gave up with a sigh. The very thing he wanted to avoid.

-"Yeah! I'd love to! I-"

-"Nope, I changed my mind."

He almost crawled towards her in defeat.

-"My family wouldn't let me anyway...I just..." She averted her gaze towards the window. "I wanted to hear you agree, I guess."

Carol had nothing.

[...] had built his life brick by brick. For himself, no one would help him achieve that. He lived alone, but Carol was just as lonely.

-"We can simply like it here and meet up once in a while."

Carol entertained the idea with a small tug of her lips. If only she had...enough money to leave. For [...], a friend, surely she could use an afternoon.

-"Actually...If boss pays me in advance, we could go to the circus-"

Their boss scoffed, pleased somewhat. Not that he had any idea why. Was it the mention of being paid in advance or the circus?

-"Sure." The owner crossed his arms.

You and Carol beamed.

Once the sign finally welcomed customers you all changed for the better. Orders were slowly adding up, he put notes up for his colleagues. Outside, inside, he quickly nodded that they needed to get the ramp for the person in a wheelchair. He also leaped to tell kids the ice cream machine was back. Now they were the ones leaping.

He took his break with Carol. They made too many plans compared to the amount they could actually spend but it cheered her up. He tried not to ogle at the bruise peeking out from her sleeve. The fact that it was so visible despite her darker skin made his blood boil. She didn't seem to notice, too bothered by the fact that "[...] is chickening out on the Circus". He feigned outrage to his very manly character but he ended up chuckling.

-"I'm not stepping foot in any of their tents."

She whined, he almost felt bad but as his eyes settled on the tables he found all the posters customers had left and his resolve grew.

-"Nope. Not happening. Too much marketing. They're trying to squeeze our very soul in that place."

Shrugging, water bottle in hand, Carol didn't counter him on that at least.

-"If I find a ticket on the ground, I'm going without you." She pointed at him, returning to work.

-"Sure, you're so lucky they might even offer a free one."

His head was hit by an empty bottle.

That was an...uneventful, eventful day. [...] was starting to enjoy the lack of Death in his life. Was this what normal guys experienced? No dread of certainty that your day could come crashing down any second? He was being dramatic. Even if he did have a new vision, it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had deflected more visions in the past few years than the grains of sugar he was currently picking up from the ground.

Just him and his boss now...

-"Alright, I'll be closing as per usual. I'll leave the windows and the rest of those posters to you." A deep voice coming from behind.

-"Mhm..." He stared absentmindedly at the darkness chased away by their electrical lamps.

He wanted to tell him how good he felt these days. Just anyone wouldn't work. He had worked there for so long. If anyone cared, it would be the one who had been kind enough to give him this job, despite the state he was in out of the mental hospital. Out of years of suffering. He wanted to tell him about his visions, why his nose and eyes bled from time to time. Back when he first started, he had claimed they were a rare type of seizures. His boss had simply muttered "Noted". He didn't tell him the truth, after all, who would believe such a thing? He had experienced firsthand what it's like to be scrutinized.

He was done washing those windows, he was done expecting people to believe his "prophecies". He was trapped, just like Carol in some way. Just like the moth trying to cling to their lamp desperately. His boss was still in the back, he couldn't hear him at all so his foolish thoughts couldn't be acted upon and the truth was buried again. Until it would grab his ankle and release hell once more.

He let go of the cleaning products, tucking them away in a corner for tomorrow.

The last thing he needed to do was throw out the tra-

"The Freak Circus of Horrors"

In his hands.

Black on white.

White on black, forming a smile full of teeth.

He lets go but it's already too late. His back hits the wall, a chair falls he hears, but he's hearing so much more. There's shouting somewhere, if only it was just his boss calling out-

But it's someone else shouting and hitting the ground.

They both fall apart, him and...

He can't make out his face, the blood mingles in a pool over his cheek, closing towards him.

The blood twists and wriggles for his lips. He allows it. It tastes like tears and human meat.

But the tears aren't human.

“I love you.”

“Can't we be together forever?”

It was easier to run and hide under his bed.

His visions were always right but rarely provoked by a related object. When that was the case however...

He shivered.

Someone from the circus was coming after him? In every sense of the word… He was too experienced to naively expect things would be alright. At the same time, he couldn't take things too literally. He'd made that mistake before and it cost the life of an innocent person. The fact that this -thing- was clearly portrayed as a monster -clearly no other way to put it- meant that the danger he was facing had a name.

"I am the Pierrot, my dear-"

He was still travelling between the future and reality. His boss had carried him with an arm across his back. He had seen the messy state of his apartment, his dirty underwear... The worst was that [...] had discovered who was to blame along the way.

-"Oh yeah? And you LOVE me?!" He threw his pillow in a fury.

With a bonk, his frame fell down. Before this whole ordeal, he would've tried fixing it, just in case. Now he had to wait until he met that stupid Pierrot guy. Really, he should thank him with some glitter spray. Yes, he sounded...nice enough... The twisted curl in his mouth on the other hand? Tongue? Wasn't so pleasant. It was foreign, it was a first and he couldn't describe what it was like to be kissed alone in your apartment by a monster from the future. He could feel everything-

He got up to brush his teeth, this will definitely make the taste of alien saliva much less present. He stopped on the way, he heard the bastard :

"Ah...utterly adorable..."

That made him shiver in a different way.

He grabbed the toothpaste, choked it onto his toothbrush and gritted his teeth through it.

-"I'll give you adorable, you monster fucker." He coughed, he didn't mean it like that.

He didn't get much of his physical appearance except for a sort of black matter coming for his soul behind porcelain white.

Just his teeth could tear him apart.

"Is that why you only use your tongue in my mouth?" He wondered.

He spat the paste so fast. This was nowhere thinking, much less preparing for incoming torment. Monsters and aliens weren't real, his vision could've been a metaphor...Well, visionaries weren't real either. He had a whole new existential crisis. If...whatever that was now holding his waist was real... With...claws? He rubbed his hips harshly till it hurt, this was his body. No one else's.

The touch and sweet words seemed to have finally stopped. He could breathe again.

He tucked himself to bed, in this instant all he wanted was for his old plushie to return. He had lost it so long ago he couldn't remember the name it was given, now he craved it. Some pressure on his chest to reassure him...

"Have a goodnight, my dear."

It hadn't stopped.

-"Shut up!!"

He muffled his screams into the mattress.

“I have this little character in my way. He's not eccentric, he's classy. He's the type to wipe off sweat with a folded napkin if you will. His peers would think little of this, it's merely a proper- The, proper way to live. Being prepared, for the sake of well oiled-up machines. You wouldn't want your car to backtrack in a ditch, would you?

He's a sensible character with methods and well meaning demeanour.

Is what I would've said.

If not for the fact that his motions aren't held out of case, but fear.

As the narrator, I cannot drop the act of writing haughtily. I think that's the way it's coming off as. I simply can't, you see, that's how he would describe his story.

Jester would surely talk in this manner as well...Oh but, you will not meet him yet. I'm just glad to be an invisible narrator. If he had heard me-

I'm getting chills just mentioning it...

Where was I?

Oh right...

This little guy can see the future and plan ahead of it, to the best of his thinking skills. He's managed to survive this long thanks to his incredible luck. Death or specifically ME, have tried everything, and I mean everything. Fire hazards, drowning, pub fights...He even saved people along the way he just wasn't supposed to meet!

You feel for me don't you?

He is special but only thanks to his ability to defy fate. If anything, I find him plain boring. I'm not biased because I'm salty! You'll see for yourself, he's infuriating!

How about...a different approach this time around? It's my last try...

Trust me, I was dreading this outcome but this is my last resort.

If natural causes can't kill this guy... I'll just find an unnatural one…”