Hang Up Your Coat (Barlyle)

04

"Phillip? Can you hear me?"

Phillip groaned and opened his eyes. The ringmaster himself smiled when the younger man finally showed signs of consciousness.

"P.T.?" Phillip groaned. His head throbbed and tears of pain sprang into his eyes. "Where am I?"

"You took a pretty nasty fall outside the circus, Mr. Carlyle." P.T.'s lips curled upwards into a playful, relieved smile. "Another stunt like that and you could wind up seriously damaging that pretty face of yours."

Phillip's eyes widened and his throat ran dry.

(filthy)

He couldn't say a word.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

The smile vanished from P.T.'s face as quickly as it appeared and he sighed. Lowering himself into a chair, he said, "I believe I owe you an apology."

"Wha—" He choked on his words, tongue heavy, throat dry. He coughed and tried again. "What for?"

"I've been working you too hard, Phillip, and for that I apologize. I'll be taking some of that load off your shoulders in the future."

"Really?"

"Yes, rea—"

"Phillip!"

Both men looked over to see Anne rush into the room. Tears shined in her eyes and she leaned down to wrap her arms around Phillip in a light hug. He reached up, wrapped his arms around her in return...and found himself staring at P.T. the entire time.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Anne demanded as she pulled away. Fire quickly replaced the tears in her eyes. "When I heard you were in the hospital again, I thought—"

Behind her, Barnum got up and left the room. Phillip's heart sunk and a lump rose in his throat. Where was he going? Didn't he care?

(why should he?)

(you're just phillip. not anything. not important. your parents are the important ones and look at how they treat you)

(he's disappointed you couldn't take the workload)

(not disappointed. disgusted. he knows, phillip, knows your secret, secret, secret)

("no son of mine will waste his life writing worthless filth!")

(secret, secret, secret, secret, secr)

"—are you listening to me?" Anne touched his cheek, cupped his face in her hand. "Are you all right?"

"Head hurts," Phillip mumbled, subconsciously leaning into her touch. Anne smiled - taking the notion as a sign of affection - and caressed his cheek.

"I'll be right back, all right? I'm going to see about getting you some medicine."

Her smile brightened and she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"I love you."

*

Phillip rested his head against the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes. Anne laid her head on his shoulder.

"Tired?" she asked.

"Just glad to be going home," he muttered. Anne entwined her fingers with Phillip's and softly massaged the palm of his hand.

He felt nothing.

Upon returning to Phillip's home, Anne hummed as she helped the man inside. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but didn't dare voice his thoughts aloud.