━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

” (੭ ;´ ⌂ `;)੭ “

━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

Pierrot’s bottom lip wobbled pathetically as he latched onto you, refusing to let you so much as angle yourself off the mattress. He clung on like a stubborn little limpet, arms looped tight around your waist, half-dangling off the side of the bed as if gravity itself had joined his campaign to keep you here.

Every time you tried to peel him off, his grip only tightened—slow, dramatic, and just a bit guilty.

“Do you really have to leave, dear…?” he mumbled into your shirt, voice thick with a needy whine. “Just this once—don’t go to work. Call in sick…”

He knew he was being unreasonable.

He knew bills existed, that life required effort, schedules, all those responsible adult things. But none of that mattered when the world outside the blanket felt cold and you felt warm.

Pierrot was… unusually clingy today.

Overly so.

The kind of clingy where he needed you like oxygen, like warmth in winter, like the last page of a book he wasn’t ready to finish. He wanted you—your skin against his, your heartbeat under his cheek, your lips pressed to the top of his head.

He needed the reassurance, the grounding, the simple comfort of being held.

“Please, dear…?” he tried again, tilting his head up.

His golden eyes shimmered, glossy with unshed tears—half puppy-dog pleading, half dramatic flair he couldn’t help but lean into. “I’ve been good. Just this once… stay with me?”

It was clear in the way he clutched you, in the trembling softness of his smile: Pierrot fully intended to win this.

One way or another, he was going to keep you in bed with him today.

And honestly… he looked like he had already decided he wasn’t letting go.