My Clown

4

"I don't want to go in," Arthur quaked, "they'll know what happened at the hospital."

"You're not the only one who's going to get pointed out, think about what happened to me at the party," I said.

It was a dreary morning and we were standing outside at the entrance of our workplace. Well, our old workplace, since we got fired!

Arthur and I were able to walk home safely last night and we've only spoken til now. We didn't get much sleep so I suggested after we cleared our lockers we could go out and fetch a coffee to wake us up a bit.

I took Arthur's hand and grasped it tightly, I sighed, "You ready?"

He squeezed back and gulped, "Yeah."

"Arthur we literally just killed a bunch of assholes last night, you shouldn't be scared."

He nodded, "I know it's just...I don't know."

I mumbled, "Come on then."

We climbed up the stairs and entered the locker room to find all the workers chilling around. They turned their heads towards us and glared, we both looked down and went to our lockers. The silence was almost ear-deafening.

They looked back at their papers and carried on with their conversations. One of the men interrupted, "So do you think it was a mask or full makeup?"

"They were both wearing masks!" another guy answered frustratedly.

"No, it says right here in full makeup, see!" Another cut in, pointing his finger on the paper.

I turned to place my juggling balls in my bag, "What's this?"

Randall scoffed loudly, "Are you dumb or something y/n? The triple murder on the subway of course," he slammed his newspaper article on the table presenting it to me, "Two killer clowns!"

I stared and hummed back, acting surprised.

"A man and his girlfriend done it."

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I quivered, "How could you be so sure it was his girlfriend?"

Arthur froze and looked up with big watery eyes, trying to hold in the pain and not burst out laughing.

Randall raised his hands in the air defensively and let out an exaggerated gasp, "Geez sorry, I don't see why you're getting so worked up about their relationship, besides why would you care?" he paused, something odd was going on here, he could sense it. But how could he be so sure.

Y/n went back to clearing out her locker, silently cursing at herself for almost exposing them, forgetting that this was suppose to be their little secret.

Our good friend Gary came in and spoke to us, "Hey you two, heard what happened. Sorry guys."

"Oh yeah, the whore and the hospital shooter!" Randall sniggered at his own stupid joke.

"At least that's better than being you Randall," I bit back at him.

He looked up, stunned by my sudden outburst; of course I would never dare to say a rude comment like that, but something snapped inside of me, like when we killed the men on the subway.

Arthur closed his locker, picked up his brown paper bag and stepped in, "Oh wait, Randall?"

"What do you want?" he grunted.

"I still owe you for that gun, right?" he grinned, "you know the one I brought into the children's hospital?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Randall snapped, "stop talking out of your ass Art!"

He ignored and honked his clown horn at him then threw it over his shoulder as he was leaving the room. I smiled at Arthur's confidence in astonishment.

I flashed them all a fake smile and tried changing my voice up a bit to draw more attention, "Well it was lovely working with ya fellas! And if you ever want to get laid then this "whore" will certainly give ya the best night of your lives."

And with that I strutted my way out of the room, swaying my hips, then froze at the doorframe, "and remember boys, my door is always open," I spanked my ass then left while a few of the men started whistling at me.

Arthur was waiting for me at the top of the stairs and I giggled childishly.

"What was that?" he laughed quietly.

I snorted, "I don't know."

"No but like, your accent was thick."

"Yeah I don't know where that came from, but I was aiming for a freakishly annoying voice."

"It was good. But hey, y/n look!" he pointed up at the sign that use to say "Don't forget to smile" which was now scribbled with a black pen marker and read, "Don't smile."

I stared back at him with disbelief and a smile crooked on my face, "Arthur, what?"

We continued laughing until tears appeared in the corner of our eyes.

"Come on y/n," he offered his arm out to take, "let's get out of this hellhole."

We linked arms and danced down the stairs together. When we reached to the bottom he kicked the door open with his foot and we left without closing it.

It was strange seeing this new side of us and we rather enjoyed it.