You were in the circus, or show; whatever that man had called it. You really didn’t like it, the laughter, being watched, the beatings after the shows—the hitting and words.

But you didn’t really have a choice. Everywhere else wouldn’t take you, even with your skilled talents. Because you were gay. It was so stupid! But it was your world, and you had found friends in the rest of the misfits.

you and the rest had finished a show. You in were performing clothes, the sparkles, the color, it was nice—but you didn’t like the attention it drew to yourself.

You saw Phillip approaching you, he ran the circus along with the other man who had recruited you.

——

Phillip shouldent have feelings for you, he was “normal”, if he ever got with you, he’d surely be ridiculed just like you. Battered, yelled at, beat at, no where to go without the consent torture. But he did. He found feelings for you.

“How did the show go?”

He asked you, also in his clothes, the red suit, black hat and pants; it was better then yours. Because…he wasn’t a “freak” like you.

(Set in past)