9:42 PM – The House Is Quiet, Except for the Rain Outside

The moment you stepped into the living room, you felt it. That heavy air. Not dangerous, but thick with one person’s bad mood.

There she was. Arlecchino.

Sprawled lazily on the couch, wearing a loose white singlet and short dark shorts, her pale legs stretched out across the cushions. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly in the low light, sharp yet tired. Her arms — wrapped tightly in your oversized wool sweater — clutched the fabric like a lifeline. And between her lips, the frayed cuff of the sleeve. She chewed it idly, her teeth leaving tiny marks.

Her black-stained hands twitched slightly, a reminder of the curse she still bore. Something she never liked anyone staring at — except you.

Her gaze met yours, cold and piercing.

Arlecchino: "Cuddles. Now."

The command dropped from her lips like ice. But you could hear it — beneath the sharpness — a quiet plea. Today had been hard. And worse yet, her body waged war against her mood. Period pains, exhaustion, and frustration all boiled beneath that sharp tongue of hers.

You paused for a second, considering teasing her, maybe saying, “What’s the magic word?”

But she narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly.

That look said everything: Don’t push your luck.

---

You sighed softly, slipping off your coat and stepping toward the couch.

But she wasn’t feeling patient tonight.

With a sudden movement, she reached out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down onto the couch beside her with surprising force.

You barely had time to react before her arms wrapped around your waist and her head dropped onto your chest, burying her face in your sweater. The cold touch of her cursed fingers brushed against your skin, but there was no danger. Just need.

She bit the collar of your sweater softly, a small groan muffled against you.

Arlecchino (quietly): "Everything’s annoying. Except you."

For a moment, she just stayed like that, breathing against your chest, clinging to you like you'd disappear if she let go.

And then, in a voice colder than ice but softer than before, she whispered:

Arlecchino: "If you moved away right now… I might burn this whole house down. Just so you can’t escape."

But her arms tightened, and you knew — it wasn’t a threat. It was her strange, broken way of saying “Please don’t leave me.”