Slipknot short stories

Clown Comfort [Shawn x reader]

Made by
13dollz

TW: Animal Death (non-graphic), smoking weed

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Your phone buzzed for the third time in what seemed like five seconds and you pushed it away, sending it skidding across the wood table to balance precariously close to the edge. You just rolled your eyes.

"If that fucking phone breaks and I have to pay for a new one, that's fucking it. I'm running away and joining the circus where I can play with lions and the only currency is peanuts," you thought angrily as your fingers toyed with the edge of an old polaroid; a candid, almost accidental shot of your cat Sally, where the lighting was so bad her eyes glowed like a demon's.

You remembered when that photo was taken. Two am maybe? Three? Your cousin sent you a polaroid camera for Christmas and after about ten minutes of puzzling over how to use it, you called over your best friend Shawn to fuck with it.

He figured it out immediately and teased you for the rest of the night, saying stuff like "kids these days," and "technology is poisoning this generation." These comments did nothing but score him playful shoves. He was only two years older, but never let you forget it for a second.

It got late and after some pizza and Ben & Jerry's, Shawn revealed he hadn't come over empty handed and pulled two blunts out of his wallet.

Flash forward thirty minutes and the camera was being passed around and fiddled with, until you finally yelled for him to take a goddamn picture. He responded by telling you to smile and then acting as if your middle finger had been a gunshot wound.

At some point when the lights were half off, poor Sally had wandered into the room, meowing for more food. As you got up to grab the kibble from the kitchen, Shawn pulled your hand down and whispered, "take a shot of the fucking cat," before collapsing onto a bean bag chair in a fit of choking laughter.

Your hand slipped as you pressed the button and Sally jumped when the flash went off. The result was a dark photo with a white and grey blur with glowing green eyes dead center. When it dried and you looked at the photo, both of you were in stitches, rolling on the floor laughing for what felt like hours, but god knows how long it really was.

You blinked as a tear falling onto your hand snapped you back into the real world. "Right, the real world," you thought. The world where Sally died yesterday and you found her body cold in her bed this morning. You lived alone and sometimes Sally was the only thing that kept your apartment from feeling painfully empty. She was a stray you found at a shelter after she walked right up to you in the area where they let a few cats play for visitors. It was love at first sight. She could be shy around new comers, but around friends she was always cute and ready for pets.

You made sure she lived a good life. The shelter said she was two years old when you adopted her and she died nine years later, leading you to believe her cause of death was old age.

You rubbed your eyes, smearing tears everywhere on your face. "Hopefully she didn't suffer."

Your phone buzzed again, this time in the drawn out beat of your ringtone, amplified against the table. Shawn was to blame for the barrage of texts and calls. You were supposed to meet him for "breakfast" (really lunch, since he hardly ever woke up before 11 o'clock) at IHOP, but after finding Sally, you couldn't make it out the door.

The call went to voicemail and your lips twitched upwards into the smallest of smiles imagining the colorful message Shawn was probably dictating right now.

You shivered and realized the air was on and you were still in your pyjamas, shorts and a tank top. Your phone forgotten, you sat on the small navy blue sofa, wrapped yourself in a blanket and switched on the television. The Simpsons was on, which wasn't surprising since it was a Saturday. You grimaced slightly, the show kind of got on your nerves, but there probably wasn't anything better to watch, so you sat back and curled deeper into the blanket.

The episode ended and another just started when a loud banging nearly made you jump out of your skin.

"Hey! I know you're in there!" Shawn yelled through the door. He knocked forcefully two more times. You didn't move from the couch. "Fine, you wanna play hardball?" You heard the jangle of keys and mentally noted to reconsider whether or not Shawn having a key your place of rest and privacy was a good idea.

The door flew open and you cringed, Shawn looked ready to fight someone. You rolled your eyes, he was all bark and no bite. He wouldn't hurt a fly, much less you. His eyes scanned the room and landed on your huddled figure. His whole posture softened.

"Hey," he said softly. "What happened? And don't you dare tell me nothing happened because I know that look on your face." You looked at the floor and felt the couch dip next to you as Shawn sat down. Without saying anything he wrapped his arms around you and you let yourself relax into the hug.

After sometime, a few minutes maybe, you looked up at Shawn with sad, tired eyes and his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" He tried again. You shifted away a little and sighed.

"It's not that bad. You're gonna laugh," you said dejected and turned away.

"Of all the people in the world, you think I'm going to laugh?" he scoffed. You nodded and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, Mick getting hit in the nuts by Joey's drumstick at band practice is funny. Whatever happened that made you so sad you couldn't even text me, that's not funny." Another small smile graced your lips and your stubbornness faded at the sight of his exaggerated pleading eyes.

"Fine. Sally- umm Sally died last night. I found her this morning." Any trace of humor vanished from Shawn's face.

"Oh," was all he said for a moment. Shawn loved that cat as much as you did, despite the scratches he sometimes suffered at her paw. "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"It's okay. It's not your fault." You shrugged.

"No. It's not okay. Your fucking cat just died, you're allowed to be sad about it." His melancholy tone snapped whatever dam was inside you and you broke into quiet sobs. Shawn pulled you into a near suffocating bear hug. You cried onto his shoulder, your tears soaking into his black sweatshirt.

When your sobs died down, you coughed and patted his shoulder.

"Shawn?" You squeaked. "I can't breathe." He just stared at you for a second, as if it took him a moment to process your request. Then he relaxed his arms.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." You couldn't help but let out a huffed laugh. Leave it to Shawn to make you laugh at a time like this.

"Thanks, Shawn."

"Yeah, of course."

"No- I mean it. Thank you for coming over and nearly breaking down my door." He chuckled. "And uh, sorry about not texting you this morning. It was just an emotional few hours."

"Don't mention it. You did whatever felt right in the moment. No need to apologise." A heavy but comfortable silence filled the room and you leaned against Shawn, letting the space where your shoulders touched keep you grounded in reality.

"So..." He said after a while, and as if on cue his stomach growled. Your eyes widened. He had planned to wait for you to eat. "Still wanna go get pancakes?" You nodded energetically.

"Shit, yeah sorry. I didn't know you were gonna wait for me."