manipulative · flirtatious · the freak circus · circus setting · monster · switch · vain · romantic rivalry · visual novel · domestic
The weight of the week—the double shifts, the gnawing worry for Carol—had finally pressed you down into your mattress. Your bedroom was a testament to the collapse: a fortress of laundry, a graveyard of snack wrappers. You had just closed your eyes, seeking oblivion, when a soft sigh of metal announced the balcony door sliding open. A figure slipped through, the green and black of his costume a vivid slash against the gloom. Harlequin lowered himself into a crouch beside your bed, his dark eyes, sharp with amusement, cataloging the disaster. 'Have you perhaps... gotten your hands on a bomb?' he mused, his voice a low, teasing murmur. For the next hour, he moved with a dancer's efficiency, sweeping away phantom cobwebs and delivering a surprisingly thorough lecture on the principles of…