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No.

Despite the silken frills enveloping the pale skin of his neck, wrists and ankles and the constant eccentricity of his personality, he was certain he was not crazy. No. He was not hungry either, it had been less than two hours since his last meal. He could easily go another five or six. That notion too was quickly discarded

Was he... Sick?

Thinking back to the brunette boy who'd been coughing and spluttering upon his death had Pennywise momentarily wondering if his billion year existence on the blue planet had somehow lowered his immunity to pathetic human illnesses. Then again, he'd yet to be ill so it couldn't be an illness. So what was that feeling in the deepest pit of his gut? The fluttering that exploded to life when he was close to her.

He towered over her sleeping form, large intense blue orbs eyeing her with uncertainty. He knew she was leaving come sunrise. This was the last time he was going to see her. Pennywise growled lowly, why should that bother him? Why? Well, because he'd grown fond of her. Perhaps more than just fond... Although he wouldn't admit that to himself, he was ravinous again suddenly. Though he sensed it was a different kind of hunger that troubled him. A hunger that was unfamiliar to him. One that had him drooling more than usual and left an unusual aching, stiffening sensation in his sexual organ.

Fuck.

What had she done to him. What had he allowed her to do to him?

He wasn't normally soft or caring, he prided himself on his ability to be able to rip the fragile little fleshy things apart with little to no sense of remorse. But not her, never her.

It puzzled him.

She sighed contendedly in her sleep, rolling onto her side rich red curls splaying across the unmarred white pillowcase like a forest fire spreading through the firs. Softly Pennywise brushed a gloved finger over her cheek, pushing back a strayed lock. He would miss her something terrible. He'd miss the kindness she gave him, he'd miss her laughter, warmth and the pure joy she radiated. He'd miss watching her dance on the kitchen tiles from his hiding spot in the shadows, he'd miss her complete acceptance of him. Of what he was.

He'd miss the way she fitted against his many forms perfectly, even in the usual clown form she fitted him like a glove. Like she'd been made especially for him.

Beyond the ripped, grubby netting the first rays of morning light pooled into the room setting her hair alight in tones of glittering Amber and Garnet. He pondered whether he should wake her, he'd do almost anything to gaze into those silver-green eyes one last time and see them looking back at him with content, to re-live that night at the quarry. Her mouth against his had felt strange, the beating of her pulse beneath his fingerpads alluring.

Strange, wonderful little human of his.

There was a different sensation now, a knotting, nauseating sensation almost like he wanted to regurgitate. Her alarm beeped away and he smiled softly as she flung out an arm tiredly throwing the infernal thing across the room as she slowly kicked off the covers.

Love.

Was this... Love?

He watched from his usual spot in the shadows when she tossed her bags into the beaten car and turned to give one last look at her childhood home. The memories she'd created there. The lover she never dreamed she'd have found in the monster that dwelled in the sewers.

He watched as she got in the car. He watched as she pinned back her hair messily. He watched as she started the ignition. He watched as she drove away.

That night he learned why humans cried.