Burn (Barlyle) (COMPLETE)

31

Phillip wrapped up chunks of ice in a piece of cloth and insisted Barnum used it for his head.

Barnum protested, rolled his eyes, but in the end he found himself in a chair, ice to the bump on his head, Phillip flashing a satisfied smirk. Before they could get to talking, though, Lettie poked her head into the room.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course. The show must go on."

"But, Barnum, the protestors—"

"Why should we satisfy them by canceling the show? Over a little bump? That's exactly what they want."

With a huff, Lettie disappeared from view. After she'd gone, Phillip pulled up an extra chair and sat across from the ringmaster. They sat knee to knee.

"Why're ya starting at me like that?" Barnum grinned.

"Like what?"

The lopsided grin on Barnum's lips only grew. "Like you want to—"

The man was interrupted when Phillip stood. He rested his hands on the ringmaster's thighs and leaned down to kiss him. Using the hand that didn't hold melting ice to the bump, Barnum reached up and pulled Phillip closer.

Phillip nuzzled Barnum's neck when they pulled away. "He hurt you," he murmured, looking up into Barnum's eyes.

The smile faded until a sad, broken trace was all that was left. He lowered the melting pack of ice. "Where have I heard that before?"

Phillip's sigh was long and heavy as he lowered himself back into his chair and stared down at his hands. "It's...different with my father, Barnum."

"How so? I'm curious to hear how you justify abuse, 'Lip."

Phillip flinched.

"My father...raised me. He can do what he wants." A lump rose in his throat. "You - well, you were attacked by a random man who has no connection to you."

"Phillip..." Barnum grasped the younger man's hands, his own slightly wettened from the ice.

"A blood relation gives no man an excuse to hurt another."

"Phin—"

"It's okay to let people go," Barnum murmured. He squeezed Phillip's hands tight in his. "Especially when their 'love' does more harm to you than good."