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By the time Phillip turned ten, letters appeared on his skin just like everybody else’s. He had thought he wanted it, the soul mark, until he found out what it had to say: ‘Damn, that kid is gorgeous. I can use his look. And maybe his wealth too.’
Mother and Father went frantic when they realized what was carved on their son’s inner wrist. They swore he wouldn’t marry his soulmate and they would find him the perfect partner instead, a proper and acceptable one. Though he had never considered about settling down, for once, Phillip agreed with his parents.
He couldn’t help but despise his soulmate. She -- he assumed it was a she -- took the first glance at him and decided she had found her personal gold mine. Was he really destined to such an obnoxiously greedy person? Was that really what the stars had written for him?
Phillip truly, utterly, hated the stars.
He also hated the fact that he got everything the easy way -- the cold, hard truth that he was successful only in the name of Carlyle. Not him. Not as Phillip. It was a slap in his face that nobody would love him for who he truly was, no matter how hard he tried. That no one would see pass his social status, his look, nor his name; not even his soulmate. Especially his soulmate.
Phillip found it was hard to breathe, hating the other half of his soul; he did anyway and he still did.
If she wouldn’t care for him, why should he?
It wasn’t fair at all.
•
Turning ten, Phineas found a bunch of letters on his wrist that read, ‘Scoundrel? Bullshit. That’s what I call magic.’
Now in his forties, Phineas had no idea how many people would think that the first time they met him. At least a dozen. Many dozens, to be honest.
He had approached many people, starting a show business required as much, and, as time went by, his name was a bit of a scoundrel. He was proud of that. Sadly, it didn’t help him narrow the possibility at all.
At least he could assume that she liked his circus.
Back when the first time those words appeared, he hoped they belonged to Charity, though he was nowhere near a scoundrel at that time. Unfortunately, her wrist read: ‘Is she Barnum's wife? Shame.’ Phineas clearly didn’t think that when he met her.
“I guess I have to marry you someday,” Charity said, still giggling, while Phineas shook his head fondly and kissed her cheek. He was disappointed, true, but back then, he was too young to have a heartbreak -- or at least what an awkward adult would have in the same scenario. He still liked her and he wanted to stay with her anyway.
They got married eventually.
They could try running from faith but they agreed it wouldn’t worth a try. Getting married would be better for both of them. Phineas needed someone to ground him, while Charity couldn’t live a life her parents wanted for her. Her best bet was Phineas -- the tailor boy who had nothing but a million dreams. Thus he proposed to her and snatched her away from the Hallet household. They started their new lives together and decided to stay that way until she found her mate, or he found his, whichever came first. Their daughters were well aware of this as they told the girls about fairy tales, a true love kiss, and soulmates finding each other.
“Maybe,” Phineas told the girls, “You’d even find yours before I do.”
Caroline frowned. “What if your soulmate doesn’t show up, daddy?”
“Everyone’s will, sweetheart. Everyone’s will.”
“What about mommy?”
“What about her?”
“Do you love her too?”
Phineas chuckled before he kissed Caroline’s forehead, whispering, “Of course, I do.”
He didn’t lie. They might not be bonded yet he loved her with everything he had -- as much as his half-full soul could provide. Phineas had tried to define their relationship once and failed altogether. Charity giggled along with her children and said, “We are us. I don’t care what people might think of us, Phin. This is how we live and I love it. I love you.” She turned to press kisses on the girls’ heads. “And I love you too.”
Caroline and Helen squealed at that. Phineas couldn’t help but smile. She might not be his soulmate but she was, unquestioningly, an angel. He had married an angel and his little girls were too. He couldn’t ask for more.
Not until Caroline told him she wanted to quit ballet.
Phineas wouldn’t let anyone treat his angels like dirt. Nobody had rights to do just that. Therefore he planned; those snobs would approve of his show and he would stand among them somehow. He just needed influence, look, wealth, and the way to get to their taste.
He believed he saw one. Blue eyes, sharp jawlines, slicked back hair, dressing in misery black and wearing the name of... What was it again?
Oh, right.
Carlyle.
•
Shit, he’s coming this way, was the first thing Phillip thought when the tall man approached. He had seen Barnum at the party and quickly averted his eyes at that time. A showman, he called himself. What a ridiculous man. What a scandal. What a life he lived, all fantasy and full of magic.
Phillip was jealous of him.
At the bar, he was too enthralled by the walking, never-ending energy that was P. T. Barnum to notice the weird, tantalizing feeling piercing into his chest. When the man touched him, his world crumbled. When he looked into those warm hazel eyes, he drowned.
Then Barnum ignited the dying hope in him and said he, too, could live a life. Barnum promised he could laugh. His touch, a simple touch on his shoulder, whispered Phillip that he could be loved.
That was a low blow.
Just like that, he ran off to the other side.
Damn right he drowned.
•
Phineas realized, two days after Phillip joined them, that he didn’t want money from the younger man. Well, he kind of did, but that wasn’t the only thing he wanted; he wanted to see Phillip’s smile.
Not a smirk nor a smug look on his face. A smile. A genuine one.
Simply because it was beautiful.
Phillip was a royally gorgeous young man. He had wealth and the surname that got him everything in the world. Phineas wanted to see what he could do more. His first intention was to use him, indeed, but ever since Phineas had sit right beside Phillip in the bar and watched him drink down his misery, he knew that Phillip could do so much better than what his surname promised.
He deserved to fly.
Phineas wanted to see him go out there, take over the stage, and show the whole world of his beauty, of his smiling, joyous face. He was better off with the circus, far away from his family and his former dull life. Phineas wanted to protect him at all cost, just like his three angels. He wanted to hold him close and maybe---
Maybe he should stop thinking that.
Now he was reaching a dangerous territory. Phineas frowned at the flashing thoughts of him holding Phillip, pinning him down, worshipping every inch of him, making him writhe--- The whole concept was intriguing. Inappropriate, yet intriguing. Phineas needed to focus on making the name for the circus, however. Maybe he would ponder over it later. Maybe he should save it for those nights before he fell asleep, too worn out to care about reality and ready to drown into the blues that were Phillip’s eyes.
He couldn’t think about it now. He had his angels to protect, after all.
•
Phineas was using him.
Phillip had tried to be optimistic and think otherwise until the moment Jenny Lind entered the hall. He couldn’t continue deluding himself right after. Obviously, she was P.T.’s next move. Phillip was just the step he used to get to her -- the Swedish nightingale who promised so much more than an overcompensated apprentice. He should have known it. He should have guessed.
Phineas was just like everybody else. Just like his soulmate.
Phillip froze at that thought.
I can use his look. And maybe his wealth too.
It was completely absurd. It shouldn’t sound right. Phillip swallowed hard and dropped it before it got to him. He wouldn’t dare hope.
(Oh, he did.)
•
Phineas blamed himself for the fire.
He blamed himself for many things, but above all, he blamed himself for the state Phillip was in right now: injured and unconscious, just because Phineas couldn’t spell the word enough.
Phineas wanted to protect him at all cost yet he failed before he could even start. He wanted to protect his angels and all he did was causing them troubles. He watched Phillip’s chest rise and fall in peaceful rhythm and he wanted to stay, oh, so badly, but he knew he couldn’t. He had no rights to after everything he had done.
He told Anne to take care of Phillip and went back to the remainder of his circus. He could rebuild it. At least this time, he could promise Phillip home, though Phineas knew he shouldn’t be counted as one of the family anymore.
It was alright. He was ready to give the circus all to Phillip and never come back, if that was what Phillip wanted.
But first, he needed to rebuild the circus.
•
“Where is P.T. again?”
Anne let out a half-exasperated huff. “He’s in his tent as always, Phillip. Working, or maybe he’s trying kill himself somehow.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Both of you are idiots,” Anne quipped. She watched Phillip pout and shook her head, too tired from her rehearsal to have this conversation. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two ever since the fire, but you’ll have to talk to him sooner or later.”
Phillip suppressed a groan. “I’m not the one who doesn’t want to talk.”
“I know.” Anne patted his cheek lightly. “Just… go talk to him, okay? You guys are driving us crazy.”
He noticed that. Of course, they shared this business by half now. Two owners who didn’t talk to each other would do more harm than good. The tension between them was almost thick enough to be visible to the naked eye. Phillip’s chest hurt every time Phineas caught his eyes. His entire body hurt and Phillip had no idea how to stop it.
“Give us a break, Carlyle,” Anne said. “Give yourself a break too. Now go to that tent, talk to him, and don’t come back until you fix it, understand?”
“Sometimes I hope you only want me for my look and wealth,” Phillip mumbled as he stroked his wrist. The mark had been burning for a while now. It hurt the first few days, now it was just irritating. It felt lonely. “I hope it’s you.”
Anne chuckled. “Oh, no. We’re better off this way.”
She knew whom the words were pointing at. He didn’t dare hope for it, but he did, and she knew. In fact, she was the only one here who knew about his words. He trusted her that much. Maybe that was why the others thought they were meant to be. Phillip was fairly sure there was a bet going on whether he and Anne were bonded or not.
Things would be easier if they were. Only if they were.
Eventually, Phillip gave in. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”
The stars couldn’t hate him more than they already did, could they?
•
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Phineas told him after a stretching awkward silence.
Phillip shifted in his seat. He entered Phineas’s tent -- their tent -- as Anne requested and found the man working on his new project, papers scattered everywhere.
“They think we’re fighting,” Phillip said eventually. “Better let them think we’re fixing it right now.”
Phineas looked up from his work, offended. “We’re not fighting.”
“We aren’t,” Phillip agreed.
Another silence passed with Phineas’s gaze fixing on him. Ache crept up Phillip’s chest out of the blue. There was no reason to be hurt but he still did and Phillip hated it. He was desperate to go back to when things were easier between them; when he was just an overcompensated apprentice who simply ran off and joined the circus, not a bitter, solemn man longing for something impossible.
This was pathetic. Phineas belonged to Charity. His wrist must be embedded with her first thought of him. Phillip allowed himself to wonder what kind of thing she would have in mind for him for the briefest moment. Just wonder. Her words must be beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” Phineas finally muttered. Phillip’s head snapped up to meet his eyes.
“What for?”
“For everything I’ve done,” he answered with a tired chuckle, “Ever since I’ve met you.”
There was it again, the ache -- the burning pang that gripped his heart a little too tight for a little too long. Phillip needed to focus on his breathing before he forgot how.
“Apology accepted,” was all Phillip could manage. That didn’t mean the pain would be gone.
This close, it was harder to breathe.
Phineas cleared his throat.
“If you wanted,” he began, “I could leave.”
Phillip couldn’t feel his limbs.
He stared back at the older man, trying to process what he had just heard. His wrist was on fire as well as his heart, his eyes, his everything. He gaped at Phineas, feeling stupid, becoming hopeless. He wanted to stand up and yell at him, calling him an idiot for suggesting such things, hitting him hard enough to break his jaws; and all he could do was sitting there helplessly like a fool himself.
Phineas took his silence as a cue to leave the tent, mumbling a soft, “It’s alright,” as he went.
Phillip snatched his arm before the ringmaster could go any further, gripping for dear life. When he looked up from his seat, he saw a pair of hazels already staring right back at him, half in awe, half broken.
“Why are you leaving?” he whispered.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Phineas asked back. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Phillip. Maybe it’s about time for me to retire. I couldn’t before, but now everything is doing just fine. It’s also a good time for you to---”
“Where are you going?” Phillip interrupted. “What will you do?”
“Watch my girls grow, maybe.”
“And leave us?”
And leave me.
“You’ve seen what I’ve done, kid. You’ve witnessed it yourself and I’m still very capable of taking that one step too far. You’re better than that. You guys are better off without me.”
“Who says that?”
“Nobody has to---”
“Bullshit,” Phillip snapped. “We waited for you. We needed you. We wanted you back and now you’re leaving us again? This isn’t fair, P.T. You don’t have rights to wander off and just disappear.”
“I didn’t mean to---”
“I know you’re a fraud,” Phillip cut him off. “I knew it right from the start and I followed you anyway. The first time I’ve seen your face in the crowd, my dear mother called you a scoundrel. I said bullshit, what you did was purely magic. You dragged me here, P.T. You can’t just---” Phillip trailed off, then whispered, almost inaudibly, “You can’t just go.”
Phineas stood dead on his feet, never once dropping his gaze. Phillip didn’t know what he was looking for but he let him; he let him search. Let him fall. Let him look into every bit of his soul and simply pleaded.
Phillip was still holding his arm like a lost child. Phineas flicked his gaze down to where their skin touched, then slowly, deliberately, use his free hand to tuck Phillip’s sleeve up. The former playwright let out a soft gasp of surprise as Phineas laid his fingers there, right upon his soul mark, sending shivers down his spine.
Phineas stroked his thumb over the neat letters. Phillip swallowed down a whimper, choking out, “P.T., what---”
“So you thought that, huh?” the older man cut him off, “When you first saw me?”
Phillip stumbled on his words, saw a glimpse of Phineas’s mark under his sleeve, and then, somehow, he was choking against Phineas’s lips. Everything suddenly exploded, all at once; in his chest, in his heart, in his soul. Overwhelming would be an understatement. Phineas tightened his grip around Phillip’s wrist, digging nails into his mark, drawing a whine from the younger man. Phillip couldn’t think in this condition. He couldn’t even breathe and he had no idea how his heart was still able to function. But he craved for it. He needed more. Phineas’s kiss could burn him alive and he wouldn’t even care.
It was everything he ever wanted.
Phineas traced his lips along Phillip’s jawline as he pressed more pressure over his mark, enticing a moan Phillip barely recognized as his.
“So you feel this,” Phineas mused while mapping down his neck. “Your mark is burning.”
Phillip reached out until he found Phineas’s marked wrist. “Same as yours.”
The ringmaster groaned lowly at the touch.
“God, this is crazy.”
“I’m used to the concept of being crazy,” Phillip mumbled. “I can stand crazy.”
“You’re crazy.”
Phillip snorted. “I should have known it since the moment I got your words on my wrist.”
Phineas replied with a kiss. He kissed him hard. He kissed him like his life depended on it. Of all the lies he’d ever lived, Phillip knew Phineas couldn’t fake this one. So he wasn’t Charity’s, Phillip realized dazedly. His soulmate was an obnoxiously greedy person who turned Phillip’s life upside-down as though it was something he was meant to do, which it was, and--- Damn it. Damn P.T. and his goddamn mouth.
Damn P.T. and everything that made him. Damn Phillip too for unable to resist him. Damn their soul marks that matched perfectly and crushed Phillip’s lifetime effort to hate his other half. Damn everything that came with it.
It felt incredible. Free. Like he was flying, falling, floating through the air and drowned into the deepest pool of emotions at the same time.
Phineas sighed into a kiss. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Everything.
“Don’t leave,” Phillip said instead. “You don’t have rights to.”
Phineas’s face cracked into a smile, the same one he used to lure Phillip from the other side.
“Oh, I definitely don’t.”