Archive of Our Own

The sound of the calliope travelled through the town, the magical notes announcing the arrival of the circus, just like every year.

Henry and Bea peered out the window at the cloud of smoke in the distance before exchanging a look. Her brown eyes shined with mischief that Henry instinctively tried to match. Loud footsteps echoed through the hall before the door was slammed open, and Philip, panting and red-faced, stormed in. The three smiled conspiratorially, and Bea and Henry ran to join him.

“Is he taking us?” Bea whispered loudly.

“Shhhh!” Philip covered her mouth, looked into the hall to check for eavesdroppers, and retrieved his hand a moment later. He motioned for them to get closer. “We need to be quiet. He said we could only go if Gran didn’t find out.”

Bea squealed, immediately getting another shushing shove from Philip. She bit her lips and sent him an apologetic look. Philip raised one finger to his lips, reminding the two smaller kids to be silent, then led them down the hall towards the dumbwaiter shaft. Philip opened the small door and motioned for them to squeeze in like they’d done many times before. It was getting more challenging, with their knees practically on their faces and their heads sideways. Soon, they’d have to do it separately.

“What are you children up to?” Their mother’s voice said from behind Philip.

“Nothing!” The three of them said simultaneously.

Catherine hummed, “You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”

Philip covered his mouth and nodded. “Don’t tell Gran, Mum.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Catherine said solemnly. She ushered the two younger kids. “Carry on, then.”

“Bye, mummy,” Henry murmured with a small wave.

“Have fun, my love,” she told him before closing the dumbwaiter’s door.

“Alright, Hen, hold on tight,” Bea whispered, gripping the rope that ran alongside them. She kept her back pressed against one wall and her hands tight on the rope, using it to guide their descent while keeping the dumbwaiter from swaying too much. Bea's shoulder pressed against the wooden wall, and Henry tucked his legs to make room for the movement.

“Don’t go too fast!” Henry mumbled as quietly as he could, his voice trembling slightly.

Bea winked and began their descent, the dumbwaiter creaking and swaying as it moved. Henry held his breath as the dim light from the hall disappeared, and darkness swallowed them. He registered Bea’s little grunts as she struggled to pull the rope, each inch of descent seeming endless. Halfway down, the dumbwaiter gave a slight lurch, making them both gasp, but Bea squeezed Henry’s hand comfortingly and went back to her task. Henry gripped her dress tightly and shut his eyes, praying for a soft landing. The dumbwaiter lurched again, and with a metallic clang, it came to a stop.

The light from the kitchen greeted them with a sudden brightness as their eyes adjusted. Their dad waited for them in the kitchen with a playful smile, a wooden stool already propped to help them out.

"Took you long enough," Arthur said with a grin, whispering so as not to be heard by anyone else in the house. He extended a hand to Bea, "Thought you'd never make it, honeybee."

Bea could not contain a giggle as he hoisted her out. Henry followed, carefully reaching with his leg towards the stool. His dad extended his arm out, steadying him and bringing him the rest of the way down.

“I got you, sport,” Arthur murmured, his voice warm with affection.

Henry gripped his hand tightly and walked over to Bea, who was slipping on her shoes. His own pair was waiting for him.

Arthur glanced up the shaft and tapped on the wall three times. It was a familiar pattern—a signal they had worked out for times like this. Philip tapped back in response, the same familiar sound, and they all stared expectantly as the silent grumble of the dumbwaiter’s mechanism creaked with Philip’s descent. When he reached the kitchen, he unfolded himself and jumped out quickly.

"Nice and smooth," Arthur muttered, clapping Philip on the back as he stepped out. "Good job, Pip.”

With the three siblings safely in the kitchen, Arthur guided them towards the back door, slipping on his coat and handing smaller ones to each child.

“Coats buttoned,” he instructed in a hushed voice, watching them closely follow his lead. “Now, let’s hurry. We don’t want to keep the circus waiting, do we?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eye.

As they stepped into the cool night air, they could already see the distant glow of the circus lights and hear the faint hum of music, and Henry thought perhaps the smell of butter was already wafting through the air beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. The circus' annual stint in their hometown was their favourite time of the year, and much to their grandmother’s chagrin, Arthur never let them miss it.

Henry gripped Arthur’s hand as they joined the eager crowd lining up for tickets to the show. A stream of attractions, food stalls, and games were set up around the Big Top, which loomed majestically above the other smaller tents, its bold red, white, and blue stripes making it stand out.

The talker at the entrance gave an enthusiastic spiel, though it was hardly necessary—no one needed convincing to witness the show. Henry’s eyes widened with excitement as a woman skillfully juggled small balls. Her cheerful voice rose above the lively chatter, inviting passersby to try their luck at the ball toss game for a chance to win a prize.

Arthur crouched down in front of Henry, blocking his view, and tenderly grabbed his hands to stop him from further fidgeting.

“Alright, Henry,” Arthur said with a wink, “I need you to stay perfectly still.”

Henry raised his eyes to his dad curiously but obeyed. Arthur’s hands moved with practised grace as he slowly reached behind Henry’s ear. His fingers hovered momentarily, building the suspense, and Bea and Philip inched closer, eager to see what would come next.

Arthur’s fingers reappeared, and he produced a shiny gold ticket from behind Henry’s ear with a flourish. The ticket materialised out of nowhere, catching the bright lights with a glint. Bea clapped his hands with delight at the trick.

“Daddy, you should join the circus!”

Arthur smiled and gave a theatrical bow. “A little magic to remind us that anything is possible tonight. Now, let’s go play some games before the show!”

Philip grinned and tugged Arthur’s jacket to guide them toward the entrance, eager to explore the midway. Bea and Henry trailed behind them, gasping with delight now and then. People with brightly coloured hair and even brighter clothes were everywhere, enticing the crowd with tricks. The carnival music was loud and boisterous, and Henry hummed the tune that played in a loop, a melody that stayed with him for the entire year as he waited for the circus to return.

Bea carried a bag of popcorn as big as her head, munching on the treat as they walked towards the Big Top. Inside, the tent was spacious, with rows of seats arranged in a circular pattern around the performance area covered with sawdust. The wooden seats were almost full as the show approached, people craning their necks to look at the stage. Bea roared, imitating a lion and trying to scare Philip away from her popcorn, but he still grabbed a handful, making faces at her sister. They all piped down as the lights dimmed, and a spotlight lit up the ringmaster, wearing his red tailcoat adorned with gold trim and gleaming white gloves, who stood patiently by himself in the middle of the ring. His top hat covered half his face, but he pushed it up to reveal a mysterious smile. It made Henry’s pulse quicken.

“Ladies and gents, and children all near, prepare for a night full of joy and cheer!” he declared, his voice echoing with a theatrical flourish. “I’m Ringmaster Shaan, your host for tonight. Welcome to ‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’, where dreams take flight!”

He paused for dramatic effect, allowing the anticipation to build. The ringmaster, Shaan, studied the audience with a twinkle in his eye as he continued, “So gather around, let the magic unfold in this Big Top of wonders and stories untold. Sit back and relax as the wonders commence, for tonight’s performance will be nothing short of immense!”

Henry giggled joyfully and scooted closer to his dad, who wrapped his arms tightly around him without taking his eyes off the arena. Surrounded by Arthur’s scent, Henry enjoyed the show. The performers moved flawlessly under a backdrop of twinkling lights that mimicked the night sky. Laughter and applause echoed through the crowd as each act took the stage, captivating the audience with their every move. Whether there was a man shooting expertly through the air or a woman bending herself into impossible shapes, Henry couldn't tear his eyes away. “Look!” Bea shrieked beside him, climbing onto Arthur’s lap just as a cascade of confetti rained down on them, wrapping up the show in a breathtaking finale.

“I wish I could stay in the circus forever,” Bea sighed as Arthur carried her back home after the show, her eyes battling against sleep.

Henry, still wide awake with excitement, jumped up at the thought. “Oh! We could do an act together!”

“Hey! What about me?” Philip intervened. “I want to join the circus, too!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Arthur yelped. He looked down at his three kids with a kind smile. “Are you planning to run off and join the circus without me? I’m afraid I would have to hire those clowns to fill in your spots; otherwise, I would miss you dearly.”

Bea giggled sleepily, “We wouldn’t leave you, Dad.”

Arthur sighed dramatically, relieved. " That's good because I already prepared my number.” He put Bea down momentarily, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and then slipped off his signet ring. “Now watch closely,” he said, placing the ring into the handkerchief and giving it a little shake. When he opened the handkerchief again, the ring had vanished.

The kids gasped as Arthur made a show of looking around, then reached behind Bea’s ear and pulled out the ring with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” Arthur declared with a giggle. “See? I’m ready for my circus debut!”

Henry and Philip screamed excitedly while Bea chuckled softly, thoroughly amused. Arthur placed the ring back on his finger and tucked the handkerchief away. Bea lifted her arms, and Arthur picked her back up.

“Alright, let’s get home,” he said, guiding them along. “The circus will be back next year, and who knows? Maybe we’ll all have our own act by then.”

At that moment, all the excitement from the evening caught up to Henry, his limbs suddenly heavy. It was way past his bedtime. Philip took one look at him before opening his arms—an offer Henry couldn’t resist. With the circus lights fading in the distance, they walked the rest of the way home, each weaving dreams of colourful feats amongst their favourite people in their favourite place.

“There’s no way I’ll fit in there, Bea,” Henry hissed with a raised eyebrow. Bea narrowed her eyes as she went back and forth between her brother and the old dumbwaiter. “I’m not doing it. I’ll take the stairs like a normal person. You can risk getting trapped in there; that’s your choice, but I refuse to die inside the walls of this house,” he continued in a calm voice.

“I’m not going to die, Henry.” An eye-roll. “It’s our tradition. You did it last year!”

“Yes, and then Philip had to rescue me, all pompous and highfalutin,” Henry recalled. “He huffed and puffed about us not being kids anymore, telling me to grow up. I’m not enduring that again.”

Bea stomped, perhaps needing the same lecture from Philip. “You’re ruining it all!” She glared at him with unshed tears in her brown eyes, her face red and angry, and something in Henry’s chest tightened painfully at the sight.

“Bea, I’m sorry,” Henry sighed.

She sniffed, looking down at her feet. “I don’t want things to change anymore. I don’t want this to be the last time we do this.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, barely containing a sob. “I don’t want to lose him.”

Henry faltered, trying to figure out what to do or what to say. No words would make this better; no action would stop bad things from happening to them.

“I’ll try, okay?” He finally said, turning his back to the dumbwaiter shaft and lowering his bum into it. He wiggled his waist and lowered his head, trying to make himself as compact as possible. It seemed like he would be able to do it—as snug a fit as it was—until his shoulders got stuck, and he looked up at Bea helplessly.

She stared at him, looking crestfallen. She covered her mouth with her hands, and Henry braced himself to hear a sob, but a loud burst of laughter took him by surprise. Bea folded in on herself, her body doubling with laughter, no doubt being heard by everyone else in the house. Henry attempted to stop her, but with his upper body completely stuck in the dumbwaiter and his butt snuggly trapped, he couldn’t do much to stop her. He erupted in laughter as well, tears streaming down both of their faces.

“What is the—” Philip exclaimed as he entered the hallway. He took one look at them and threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Have you lost your minds?”

“We’re going to the circus,” Bea said between giggles.

“Yes, yes, we all know,” Philip said with an eye roll. “You’re not fooling anyone. We've been hearing you sneaking around for the past hour.”

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” Henry asked, trying to wiggle his way out of the dumbwaiter and eliciting another fit of laughter from Bea. Philip walked over reluctantly and got him out with a tug. Henry stumbled out and into Philip’s arms, who pushed him away a second later.

“You both need to get a grip,” Philip said sternly. “Our father can’t be out and about like he used to. You’re being reckless.”

Bea’s laughter faltered, and her lower lip wobbled, upset tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. Henry pulled her toward him in an embrace, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He felt her tears through his shirt.

“We know, Philip. He asked us to take him one last time,” Henry answered, lifting his chin defiantly. “Are you going to deny a dying man his last wish?”

Philip rubbed his face, leaving angry red splotches all over it. His once-youthful face had been sharpened over the years, and a deep crease between his eyebrows had already settled, making him appear older than he was. His mouth turned downwards, and he stepped away, quietly clearing their way towards the stairs. Henry led Bea down towards the kitchen, where their dad patiently waited, sitting by the door.

“I was wondering if you would fit in there,” Arthur joked, pointing to the empty dumbwaiter, his voice slightly hoarse. “I guess you will not be joining the contortionists.”

“Maybe next year,” Henry said, with a pang of nostalgia for a future he’ll never have. He knows there won’t be a next year with Arthur.

“Maybe next year,” Arthur repeated with a nod, clearly in a similar headspace.

“Alright, coats on,” Bea clapped her hands with fake cheerfulness. They both saw right through it. “We don’t want to keep the circus waiting, do we?”

“No, I suppose we don’t, honeybee,” Arthur said, getting up from his chair with difficulty. Henry and Bea both rushed to help him. They slipped on his coat and made sure he was warm enough before putting theirs on and beginning their journey towards the circus’ lights.

There was a familiar surge of excitement mixed with a dull ache as the familiar red, white, and blue tent came into view. The midway was bustling with familiar activity, and Henry looked around, recognising faces from previous years. The ringmaster Shaan welcomed everyone into the grounds, enticing the crowd towards the games and promising a memorable performance later in the evening.

They wandered the fairgrounds, enjoying the performers and savouring the sights, sounds, and smells they’d come to love. Arthur seemed more tired than usual, though he tried to hide it. His hand rested heavily on Henry’s shoulder, his steps a bit slower. He denied every attempt either of his children made to get him back home before the show.

On their way to the Big Top, they walked past the ball toss game, and a curly-haired boy tossed one of the balls he was juggling toward Henry, who caught it at the last second.

“Wanna try your luck?” He asked in an American accent.

Henry examined the ball in his hands and faltered. Arthur pushed him softly to the stand. “Yes, he does.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“Come on, Henry, get into the spirit of the thing!” Bea teased.

The boy tilted his head, his mouth stretched into a smirk. “Yeah, come on, Henry! We’re all rooting for you.”

A girl joined them, and Henry guessed they were related. Her friendly smile and brown eyes mirrored each other.

“Alex, stop harassing the marks,” she admonished in a calm voice, not meant to be picked up by anyone else. She sent a few more balls his way. Alex caught them quickly and began to juggle them.

“I’m just persuading him,” Alex said with a shrug.

Henry gulped as the boy juggled the rest of the balls in his hands.

“Alright, I suppose I could try.”

Alex smiled and motioned for him to step up. Henry did, squaring his shoulders and preparing to toss the ball toward the target. He raised his hand, narrowing his eyes, and threw it as hard as he could. It flew off to the side, hitting the edge of the stand with a hollow thunk. Alex laughed, a light, bright sound that cut through the midway bustle.

“Close, but no cigar,” he teased, juggling the remaining balls with an easy, practised rhythm. Without missing a beat, he handed Henry another ball with a small, contagious smile.“Try again. I’ll give you a hint this time—aim a little to the left.”

Henry tried to hide his flush at his poor first attempt, but the heat rose in his cheeks inevitably. Henry glanced over at Arthur and Bea, who gave him an encouraging nod. He took a steadying breath and threw again, this time landing the ball merely an inch away from the target.

“That’s it!” the boy cheered. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

A strange thrill shot through Henry, both from the game and the boy’s antics. His hands were getting clammy; he wanted to impress him, for some reason he couldn’t quite grasp.

Before the boy threw one last ball at him, Arthur tapped his shoulder and reached behind his ear. Just like the ones Alex was juggling, a ball appeared in his hand. Alex gasped loudly, garnering attention from the crowd.

“June, I think I found us a new spec!” He told the girl, who also stared at Arthur with glee.

Arthur smiled proudly, a gesture Henry hadn’t seen in a while. “One more for good luck, son.”

Henry aimed it carefully, trying to ignore his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He let it fly.

It hit the centre of the target, and Alex threw the rest of his balls to June, who continued to juggle them, much to the crowd’s delight.

“There you go! Not bad, not bad at all,” he grinned, tossing a small stuffed animal prize toward Henry.

Henry caught it, feeling oddly triumphant like he’d just performed in the Big Top himself. “Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the boy’s face.

Alex winked, leaning in just a little. “Anytime, Henry.” He looked towards the Big Top, where the music had shifted. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a performance to catch.” With a final grin, Alex spun around and jogged toward the tent, his laughter blending with the carnival music as he disappeared into the tent.

“Alex, wait for me!” June shouted, putting away the balls they had been juggling. “You better hurry if you want good seats,” she said to everyone still outside the tent, walking away to catch up with Alex. “We have one hell of a show planned!”

Arthur placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and said, his voice barely audible over the noise, “Let’s go, sport.”

“What?” Henry asked, unable to think of anything other than Alex’s eyelashes. Bea pushed him forward. “Oh, yeah.”

It was comforting to see the ringmaster go through the usual routine, introducing new and old acts as they came onto the stage. Each performer always giving their all to the audience.

“Look at that,” Arthur murmured with a wistful smile, his eyes following as Alex jumped from one trapeze to the next, catching the girl from earlier at the last second, her dark curly hair flowing behind her with an almost careless grace. He lifted her up to sit next to him. The crowd gasped as Alex jumped effortlessly through the air a second later, catching the rope with his legs and hanging upside down with a playful grin. Arthur’s smile widened, and he nudged Henry gently. “That’s real courage, Henry. Fearless, isn’t he?”

Henry studied him closely, the way he floated above them all, untethered and free. “Yeah,” he replied quietly, something in the pit of his stomach tightening. “Fearless.”

That night, back home, Henry got into bed with tales about the circus plaguing his mind. When he closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop thinking of Arthur’s smile, the way he had stared at the circus as they were leaving. The way he had spoken, like he knew this to be the last time.

The circus returned to town the following year, the only thing that never changed. Arthur wasn’t there to wake them up with a gentle nudge or sneak them out the back door with a magic trick up his sleeve. His seat at the kitchen table remained empty, and the house was strangely silent without their whispered plans to sneak out to the circus.

Philip had winced as the first notes from the calliope reached the house. Everyone was solemn as the now haunted melody stuck to the walls of the house that had once been as vibrant as the circus itself. Bea had cried, quietly retreating to her room, and Henry looked out the window at the smoke that materialised once a year. His dad had been gone for a few weeks, and Henry had foolishly thought the circus would be gone as well. It seemed strange that the world would simply carry on.

Arthur had passed peacefully, they said, but peace didn’t fill the empty spaces he’d left behind.

Henry stayed by the window until the last remaining lights flickered off and the circus packed up and left, only the smell of popcorn lingering in the air. Henry thought of Alex’s smile, dauntless, and calling his name.

The heavy burden of change marked the year that followed. The house was often still, as words felt empty without Arthur around, so they were used sparingly. Bea spent most of the time in her room, playing the violin by the window. Sometimes, Henry thought he could hear traces of the circus’ melody in her music before she seamlessly transitioned to another piece as if the circus tune had never been meant to be there.

With Arthur gone, their grandmother became intent on securing their family’s position and aligning it with influential connections. Mary took Philip to high-society events, introducing him to high-ranking socialites and potential partners. These affairs, from elegant garden parties to opulent galas, always came with an undercurrent of expectation. Though visibly tired, Philip followed their grandmother’s plans obediently, finding himself entangled in a web of social obligations. Henry became increasingly alienated, unable to fit into the mould that was being shaped for him.

Philip became engaged to a woman they had never met. Though exceedingly pleasant, Martha seemed to have accepted the proposal out of familial obligation. The whole situation left Henry aching for the children they had once been, immersed in magical worlds their parents had crafted for them, where arranged marriages were the least of their concerns.

The circus, with its vibrant colours and magic, was mostly a distant memory now, and Alex felt like a fleeting image from a dream.

Henry’s unease grew as their grandmother’s attention shifted towards him and Bea once Philip’s engagement had solidified, dragging them to dinner parties more often than not. Henry stared at himself in the mirror, trying to find a glimpse of his dad in himself but failing miserably to do so.

Bea fixed his crooked bowtie and patted his shoulder with a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Every piece of clothing was like a piece of armour, carefully placed on his body to protect him as he went into battle. It still didn’t feel safe enough.

“We just have to smile and wave,” Bea told him, clearly hiding her own nerves for his sake. “It’s nothing new, is it?”

“Well, rumour has it that Gran’s brought in reinforcements this time,” he muttered under his breath.

“Reinforcements?”

He nodded grimly, tugging at his sleeves. “Some distant family friend’s daughter, all the way from Paris.”

Bea snorted, her attempt at hiding a laugh failing miserably. “You poor thing. Do you think she’ll have an accent?” She straightened his bowtie, her hands lingering briefly on his shoulders before stepping back. “Don’t worry, Hen. I’m sure she’s looking for someone who can at least tie his own bowtie. You’re safe.”

“Ha, ha,” Henry deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “At least one of us still has a sense of humour.”

Bea stuck out her tongue. “You’ll survive. If you start panicking, ask her about Paris, make her talk about herself.”

Henry groaned as the dread settled deeper into his stomach. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Bea’s grin faded slightly, “Don’t let Gran push you too far, okay? You don’t have to entertain all of this.”

“I know. But I don’t want to fight, I don’t have it in me right now,” Henry said quietly, as a confession.

Bea nodded, turning to the mirror to fix her hair. “Well, for now, we can both keep scaring off every suitor on this side of the country. She’ll have to run out of options eventually.”

He gave her a small, grateful smile and nodded as they both turned toward the door, preparing to face the inevitable.

The soft clink of porcelain echoed through the sitting room as Henry sat stiffly in his chair, legs crossed, trying to hide the discomfort creeping up his spine. Bea kept squeezing his hand under the table, trying to comfort him to no avail. Across from him, his grandmother was perched with perfect posture, her sharp eyes following his every move. She sent him a pointed look, urging him to say something to Helen, the woman Henry was supposed to be courting. The table had been completely silent for the last minute.

Henry swallowed the nerves and forced himself to speak. “So, erm, did you, uh... you enjoy... Paris?”

Helen examined him with a curious tilt of her head. “Yes, quite. They have incredible food.”

“Yes! I heard they have amazing…” he began, eyes darting around the room. "Erm, bread?” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he internally cringed. “You know…French bread. Uh, croissants?” He immediately wanted to curl up and disappear under the table.

Helen stared for a long moment before offering a polite smile, the kind he and Bea had rehearsed tirelessly. “I...suppose so? Yes, croissants are...fine.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s what I heard.” Henry nodded far too enthusiastically as he busied himself with the napkin on his lap. “Can’t go wrong with croissants.”

He registered Bea stifling a laugh across the table, and Gran cleared her throat loudly, her disapproval practically searing into his forehead. Henry tried not to meet her eyes, focusing instead on the soup in front of him as he hoped for a swift and painless end to the evening.

A week later, as Henry read at the kitchen table, propped on the chair their dad had always used, their grandmother’s voice cut through the silence with its usual authority.

“Henry,” Mary began, her tone brooking no argument. “I've apologised to Helen on your behalf, and thankfully, she's willing to meet with you once more.”

Henry kept his eyes on the book before him, willing his grandmother's words to disappear. He exhaled as she sat across from him, clearly determined to talk to him.

“You know I worry for you,” she continued, “I’m only trying to give you the life your father would have wanted for his children. I know your mother agrees with me.”

Henry frowned, taken aback. His dad would have never forced him into anything, not the way she had with Martha and Philip. He didn’t want the same fate as his brother. It would be even worse for him.

“I’m sorry, Gran,” Henry said, already bracing himself for her ire. “I just need some more time.”

“Helen would like to go out for dinner tomorrow,” she said, ignoring his words. He winced. “She comes from a well-regarded family, and I think she would make a good match for you. She agrees with me. She’s a smart, beautiful young lady. Believe me, you don’t want to ruin this.”

The words hung in the air like a threat. Henry’s heart sank. If only she knew that his thoughts were consumed not by the prospect of marriage but by a flying boy he had seen more than a year ago, whose memory was as vivid as the circus itself.

With a sense of inevitability settling over him, Henry nodded, hiding his true feelings beneath the surface to avoid an argument. But even as he pretended to agree, a spark of rebellion ignited in his chest. He couldn’t stay here, bound to a life not meant for him. Not when his dad had always taught him to believe in magic, to chase colours and lights. Not when there was still a chance to find that boy with the dauntless smile.

That night, Henry lay awake, his heart pounding as he imagined the circus lights flickering on the horizon, a beacon calling him back. A whole year had passed since the last time, and he knew the circus would be back, that much he was sure of. By morning, he was ready—determined to follow those lights wherever they led.

Henry went through his day just like he would any other, not wanting to raise any alarms. As the evening wore on, the sound of the calliope grew louder, a familiar and comforting melody that reminded Henry of better times. He saw Bea's eyes flicker towards the window as if expecting the circus to come their way, her own silent acknowledgement of the circus’ return.

Dinner was a quiet affair, each clink of cutlery a reminder of the empty chair beside Philip. Bea, lost in her own thoughts, merely pushed the food around, her eyes reflecting a longing Henry recognised all too well. He could barely get any food in either, his excitement growing with every passing minute. Henry thought about telling her, to ask her to join him, but it was too risky. She hadn’t been herself since their dad had left, as if Arthur had taken a vital part of her with him. Henry couldn’t predict her reaction, and that was enough to keep him silent. This was his only shot at freedom. The stakes were too high.

The wooden chest was open on his bed, with a series of sentimental items carefully tucked away amongst some of his clothes. He packed light, knowing the circus life wouldn’t require much more. The circus lights had begun to dim. It was now or never.

He looked around his room, frantically trying to think of anything else he might need. He grabbed his father’s signet ring and slipped it on his pinky, bringing it close to his heart. The only way he could keep something of his.

“What’s going on?” Bea’s small voice came from the doorframe; he hadn’t heard her come in, not with his pulse so loud in his ears. “Hen?”

He locked the chest as quietly as possible; whatever he left behind, he would replace.

“I’m joining the circus,” he told her, a calm voice similar to the one they had used as they snuck out with their father every year. He prepared to run past her and out of the house before her screams could alert the others, but she only stared at him, her sad eyes resigned.

She nodded, grabbing a knitted cap from one of his bed posts, then stood on her tiptoes to put it on his head. “Don’t forget this. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Come with me,” Henry pleaded, feeling nonsensical for not telling her sooner.

Bea hesitated, but Henry saw the struggle in her eyes. It gave him hope. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do this alone.

“I can’t,” she said with a grimace. Henry’s heart sank. “I don't want to leave mum.”

“Will she be okay if I leave?” Henry asked, suddenly worried. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

“You have to go,” she said, her voice more alive than it had been for the last year. “There’s nothing here for you, not anymore. Go find your act. We’ll be okay. But promise me you’ll be back in a year.”

“You know that’s the deal, honeybee,” Henry said, embracing her tightly. He recited the ringmaster's words with which he closed his speech every year: “And as we bid farewell this eve, remember dear, ‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ will be back, year after year!”

“Come on, they’re all in the studio,” Bea whispered, stepping back into the dark hallway—the hushed tone taking him right back to their yearly escapades. “I’ll come in case you need me to distract them.”

They walked in silence past the old dumbwaiter and down the staircase. Their socked feet muffled the sounds of their footsteps as they inched closer and closer to the kitchen. They kept the lights off, knowing the house by heart. The light from the street bathed the kitchen in pale hues as Bea opened the door slowly as to avoid any creaking.

She ushered Henry outside, but before he could leave, she gave him one last hug and kissed his cheek—a silent encouragement, before stepping back. “Go, Hen. You don’t want to keep the circus waiting, do you?”

“Bea? Henry? Are you in the kitchen?” Their mum’s voice echoed through the house, her footsteps getting louder.

“It’s me, mum. I’m just looking for a treat,” Bea shouted back. She turned to Henry. “Go!”

The door slammed behind him, and Henry ran.

His footsteps were dull and hurried as he made his way toward the circus grounds. The calliope’s music had long since faded, leaving only the distant echoes of laughter and the low murmur of voices. As he approached, he could see the circus coming down—the tents were being dismantled, and the performers were busy packing their equipment.

The air was thick with the smell of popcorn and hay. Henry stood at the edge of the grounds, his hands sweaty with nerves. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. His nerves tightened as he realised he was so close to something he had dreamed about for so long but knew so little of.

A few of the performers were working together, their movements synchronised and efficient. He recognised some faces from the show—the ringmaster Shaan directed some of the clowns and a boy around Henry’s age with bright pink hair and dark skin as they folded up a colourful tent.

Henry breathed in slowly, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He saw a large wagon where some performers were congregating, but the thought of approaching a group of people scared him. He needed to start somewhere small.

The pink-haired boy stepped away from the first group and ran towards the wagon. Henry stepped forward with his heart in his throat, hoping to catch his attention. The boy looked up at the sudden movement and came to a halt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He tilted his head with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you lost?”

Henry approached him tentatively, each step measured and careful. As he got closer, he overheard snippets of conversation from the wagon about plans for the next town and the excitement of returning to the road. The pink-haired boy took a step forward, startling Henry.

“Erm, hello,” Henry began, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I was hoping to join the circus.”

He studied him, taking in his determined but nervous stance. “What’s your spec?”

“My, erm, my spec?”

“Are you an aerialist? A contortionist? A clown? Stilt walker?” The boy asked in rapid succession. “What do you do?”

Henry gulped. “I—”

“Henry?”

Henry looked up, noticing Alex’s silhouette against the dimming sky, and it felt like time was slowing down. Alex’s eyes were wide with recognition, and he walked toward him with surprise and curiosity. A smile tugged at his lips, somewhere between amused and genuinely pleased.

“What are you doing here?”

“He has come to join the circus,” the other boy answered for him, sounding amused. “I was trying to figure out his act.”

Alex smirked, “Well, isn’t it obvious, dear Pezza?” He walked over to Henry and threw his arms open, presenting Henry with a flourish. His tone turned theatrical, imitating Shaan’s boisterous voice, “Gather ‘round, for a sight so rare, Henry’s act? Simply being unfair!”

Pezza threw his head back with a laugh. “Alexander, you’re ridiculous. The man is just white,” he said before turning to Henry and adding: “No offence.”

“None taken,” Henry said quickly, his heart still stuck on Alex calling him unfair, his cheeks warming with a flush he hoped wasn’t too noticeable.

“What are you scallywags doing?” Shaan’s voice boomed from a few feet away. “We need to start loading the wagons. Amy can’t do it all by herself, mighty as she is.”

“And mighty she is,” Pez concurred.

Shaan strode over, his eyebrows arching as he took in Henry’s slightly awkward stance. “And who might this be?”

Alex grinned. “A new recruit, I’d say! He’s keen to join our crew.”

Shaan eyed Henry up and down. Henry stood as tall as he could, trying to hide any signs of nerves from the man, “Keen, huh? Can you lift a pole or fold a tent without tying yourself in knots?”

“I can try, sir,” Henry replied.

Shaan nodded, his kind eyes appraising him, “We’ll see about that. Welcome to 'Le Cirque des Étoiles.' You start by helping with the packing,” he said, pointing to a pile of ropes and canvas nearby. “And remember, everyone pulls their weight around here, one way or another.”

Henry nodded eagerly, a sense of relief washing over him. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Shaan clapped him on the back. “Good. Now, off you go. The circus waits for no one, least of all a newcomer!”

It was clear to Henry that everyone in the circus had been doing this for years and had perfected their routine. Alex and Pez folded canvas, gathered rope, and hauled crates onto the wagons, the shiny gleam of sweat on their foreheads the only giveaway to their exertion. Henry tried to keep pace, mimicking the movements of those around him as closely as he could, but still deemed himself completely inadequate. Alex sent encouraging smiles every few minutes, and it strangely helped.

Finally, the last of the tents were loaded, and the wagons began to line up. The call went out to board, and Henry found himself beside Alex, climbing up into one of the wagons. As Henry sat down, his breathing still came in short gasps, his hands raw from the ropes. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but it made him feel good, like he had been useful. Henry wanted to prove to Shaan that he was willing to put in the work.

The caravan began to move, the wheels creaking loudly in the night, the horses snorting as they pulled away from the field. Henry peered out the back, seeing the town that held all of his memories grow smaller in the fading light. He got a glimpse of familiar rooftops and thought of Bea, of their mum and Philip, of the muted house he had left behind. A pang of guilt stabbed at him, sharp and sudden.

But then he thought of his grandmother, of the alternative that awaited him back at that house, and a bubble of panic began forming inside him. The wagon rocked gently beneath him, a soothing rhythm that helped him stay grounded. The wind on his face eased the pressure on his chest just a little.

Alex leaned over, his shoulder lightly bumping Henry’s. “You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled amid the rattle of the wheels.

Henry nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m alright.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Henry sighed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You’re gonna miss your dad?” Alex ventured, guessing, mistaken. Henry had been missing his dad for months; it wasn’t anything new.

Henry’s gaze grew distant. “He passed a little over a year ago,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think I want to talk about it. Not tonight.”

Alex’s face softened. “I’m so sorry, Henry. I didn’t know.”

Henry turned his gaze to the night outside, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Thanks,” he said, his voice steady. He looked out at the road again, the familiar pain of his father’s absence settling in. “I’m just hoping that by starting fresh here, I can somehow honour him. Even if it means leaving everything else behind.”

Alex nodded, understanding the gravity of what Henry was saying. “You’re doing what you need to do. Sometimes, moving forward is the only way to keep the past alive in a different way.”

Henry gave a small, grateful smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

Henry turned his gaze forward to the horizon stretching out endlessly before them. He wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but for the first time in a long while, he felt the stirrings of hope—a fragile, flickering thing, but enough to keep him moving forward.

The lights of the town faded behind them, swallowed by the night. Henry closed his eyes, letting the sound of the wheels and the wind carry him away, further and further from the life he had known, into whatever awaited him.

It didn’t take Henry long to get the hang of things. Everyone had a clear role in the circus, a coordinated dance that everyone performed with ease. Whenever they arrived at a new town, they would begin the usual routine of setting up for the evening’s show. Henry helped wherever it was possible, lifting poles, tightening ropes, sweeping up sawdust, or picking up loose nails that had fallen during setup. He tried to stay out of everyone’s way, careful not to become a burden.

He often assisted Cash, the strongman, with setting up the weights and barbells used in his act with Amy, who he lifted with impressive ease as she balanced on progressively smaller props, starting from a broad platform, then a narrow beam, and finally a tiny pedestal. Sometimes, he also handed tools to them, as they were constantly tinkering with the rigging or making minor repairs to the tent poles. During the show, he would help position props for the next act, make sure costumes were in place, and double-check that every piece of equipment was safe and ready. He’d also find himself untangling ropes or straightening up chairs before the audience arrived, his hands growing more accustomed to the rough textures and quick movements that were needed to keep the show running smoothly.

In between, Henry did everything he could to learn about the performers and their craft. He watched Alex and June, his sister, as they practised their aerial routine, captivated by the way they floated effortlessly through the air from hoops to trapezes to ropes as if gravity didn’t particularly apply to them. There was also Nora, a tiny contortionist who twisted herself into impossible shapes with an almost otherworldly grace. Her dark brown curly hair was often worn in two buns that, along with her petite frame, gave her a youthful appearance. Pez, the firebreather he had met on the first day, put on an incredible show that had the audience on the edge of their seats every time, as Zahra, knife thrower expert, balanced on one foot at the opposite end of the ring, her knives gleaming under the stage lights, waiting for Pez to catch each blade with a burst of flame. Zahra's precision was astounding; each throw landed with a sharp thud mere inches away from Pez’s outstretched hand, who in turn would lean back dramatically and let out a billowing plume of fire in response. The crowd always gasped at their seemingly reckless coordination, but Henry sensed the trust and familiarity in their every move.

Henry felt a mix of awe and envy as he observed them all. They each had a purpose, a defined role that contributed to the circus' magic. Every day, he tried to learn a little more, hoping that one day, he would find his own place among them.

But despite his eagerness and the hours he put in trying to help in any way, shape, or form, he still thought of himself as an outsider—an odd piece in a puzzle where everyone else seemed to fit so perfectly. Yet he held onto the hope that, in time, something would click, and he’d find his role, his own act with which he’d dazzle audiences all over the country.

“I once saw this person who swallowed swords,” Pez said as he helped Nora with her stretches. He lifted one of her legs behind her head and kept it there while she leaned down her torso. “Maybe you could do that.”

Alex, hanging a few feet from the ground on aerial rings, made a strangled noise, and they all turned to look at him. His arms shook before he finally let go, landing lightly on his feet.

“Maybe let’s get you started somewhere less dangerous,” he intervened. “What about juggling? I can teach you.” He grabbed a couple of small, brightly coloured balls and began juggling them effortlessly. After catching them all in one hand, he tossed a yellow ball toward Henry. “Catch!”

The ball hit Henry on the shoulder and bounced off, rolling away. “Hey! You didn’t warn me.”

Alex raised a blue ball and made sure to have Henry’s attention before throwing it toward him again. Henry caught it clumsily, nearly dropping it. He stared at it as if it had personally offended him.

“I don’t know about this, Alex,” he said.

“Just get used to the feel of it,” Alex advised, watching Henry closely. “Try tossing it to your other hand.”

Henry glanced at the others practising nearby. Nora and Pez were engrossed in their conversation while June swung from a metal bar, too focused to notice him. He tossed the ball swiftly into the air, barely catching it at the last moment.

“That’s good,” Alex said, leaning back against a tent pole. He tossed another ball lightly and caught it without even looking. “Think you’re ready for two?”

“No.”

Ignoring Henry’s reluctance, Alex handed him a second ball, demonstrating with two of his own. “Like this,” he said, his hands moving with practised ease, the balls gliding through the air in perfect rhythm. “You want to keep the balls in a consistent arc. Watch the top point of the throw.”

Henry watched intently but struggled to replicate the smooth rhythm. He tossed the first ball, but the second flew wildly toward Alex. Alex caught it with a quick reflex, mere inches from his face. Their eyes met in surprise before they both burst into laughter.

“Practising your aim?” Zarah asked, entering the tent. “Knives are my thing, kid.”

Henry immediately shook his head. Zarah had an intimidating aura around her that wasn’t helped by her constantly being surrounded by knives. As if reading his mind, she grabbed a knife from her belt and began to twist it in her hands. Alex smirked at her antics.

“I don’t think we can trust Henry with knives just yet, Z,” he said, winking at Henry. “Maybe you could try stilts? I know Cash made a pair for Amy but has yet to incorporate them in her act.”

Henry shrugged, unsure. “I guess.”

“I’ll fetch them,” Pez said with a mischievous smile before disappearing from the tent. June quickly took over Pez’s job and continued to help Nora with her stretches. This time, her chest was on the ground, and her legs were folded on top of her. June lightly pushed down her pelvis towards her head, making Nora’s face scrunch up in pain.

Henry found himself facing a pair of brightly painted stilts minutes later, each adorned with colourful stars and moons. Pez held them towards him, an expectant smile on his features.

“Ready to take these for a spin?”

Henry eyed the stilts warily. “I suppose.”

Alex and Pez helped Henry strap the stilts on his shoes, holding his hands as he tried to stand up. Henry took a tentative step, wobbling precariously, his grip on the boys’ hands tightening.

“Keep your weight centred,” Pez told him as if that meant anything. Henry frowned. He took another step, slightly more steady this time. Pez let go of his hand and, in a panic, Henry flailed his free arm in a wild attempt to steady himself but only managed to trip over his feet and fall onto a pile of sawdust, bringing Alex down with him.

“Smooth,” Zarah joked from the sidelines.

Henry lay on the ground, his legs tangled with Alex’s. They were both covered in sawdust. Alex groaned, trying to untangle himself, while Henry stared up at the red, white, and blue tent, laughing despite himself.

“Well, that was graceful,” Alex said, brushing sawdust off his clothes. He reached out a hand to help Henry up. “Don’t worry, I bet you’ll be an expert in no time.”

Henry took Alex’s hand, a zap of energy at the contact. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure I have a future in stilts,” he joked, still smiling. He began to wobble with the stilts still on, so he sat back down and unfastened them hastily.

Alex chuckled. “We’ve got plenty of time. And hey, if juggling and stilts don’t work out, we could always start announcing you as the most beautiful human on Earth.”

“Or learn how to swallow swords!” Pez pitched in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Alex threw a green ball at him, but Pez moved away before it hit him.

Henry snorted, shaking his head to keep himself from getting flustered.

“My idea is better. I’m sure Cash could draw some flyers,” Alex said with a shit-eating grin. “Although I’m not sure he’d be able to capture your essence.”

Henry bit his lip, flustered.

“Hey, Alex,” June called out, smirking. “You’ve got some—” She pointed at the corner of her mouth.

Alex reached up, puzzled, thinking she meant sawdust. “Yeah, right there—careful with all that drooling,” she said, giggling.

Alex’s face flushed, and he glanced at Henry, who was trying to stifle a laugh. “Thanks, Juniper. You’re always so helpful,” he said, trying to play it cool.

Henry’s cheeks were tinged pink, but he smiled, feeling less desperate to find his niche. He could tell they were all rooting for him, and Alex was right; there was no rush. His time would come.

Henry found solace in the stars amid the circus' chaos, constant moving, and change. The same sky that seemed so endless and impossible back home followed him wherever he went, and thinking about his sister looking up and seeing the same thing filled him with a comfort that made him miss her slightly less. The stars were his companions, offering some constant in the nomadic nature of the circus. Every night, he’d settle in with his blanket, watching for Orion’s belt, talking to the stars as if they could deliver a message to his dad. As if they could let Bea know that he was okay.

One night, while he was lost in thought, the wagon came to a sudden halt, a sharp clunk signalling a malfunction. Henry glanced outside, quickly recovering from the jolt, as Shaan and Amy circled the wagon, probably trying to assess the damage. Henry decided to join them, hoping to offer some help.

As he wandered around the halted wagons, he heard a soft whine near the front. It was dark, with only the moon to provide any light. Alex had warned him about badgers and foxes and told him never to leave the wagons at night by himself, but something told him he had to investigate the noise.

Henry followed the quiet whine through the shadows, his heart pounding with curiosity and concern. The moonlight cast eerie patterns on the ground, but he pressed on, drawn by the sound. He heard it again, this time closer, and he turned to see if any of the other circus members were close to assist him in case he needed it, but not a soul was nearby.

He turned a corner and spotted a small, dirty ball of fur huddled against the wheel of one of the wagons.

It opened its eyes, looking up at Henry, startled. Henry took a step back, just as surprised. The dog’s fur was matted and grimy, but Henry saw hints of white and brown underneath it. It sniffed the air, his nose pointing towards Henry. Henry cautiously knelt down, extending a hand towards it slowly so as not to startle the dog further.

“Hello there,” Henry said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The dog sniffed his hand tentatively before giving a tiny lick. He was in rough shape; he couldn’t just leave him on the side of the road where one of those terrible foxes or badgers would get him. “Where did you run away from?”

The dog walked a wobbly step towards him, wagging his tail softly and nuzzling his hand. Henry carefully picked it up, cradling it in his arms. “Let’s take you to Shaan. He’ll know what to do.”

Back beside the wagon, Shaan eyed the bundle in Henry's arms, frowning. “What’ve you got there?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag after inspecting the wagon.

“A puppy,” Henry replied, his voice filled with concern. “Found him by the wheel. He looks like he’s been out here for a while.”

Shaan stepped closer, peering at the small dog, who now lay curled up in Henry’s arms, shivering slightly but watching Shaan with wide, alert eyes. “Looks like he’s had a rough go of it,” Shaan muttered. “He’ll need to be cleaned up. Are you up for the task?”

“Yes, sir,” Henry nodded without a second thought. He began to turn before stopping, and he glanced back at Shaan. “Do you think… do you think we could keep him?”

Shaan sighed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “We’ve never had a circus pet before.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Henry assured him. “I swear.”

“What do you reckon his name is?”

“David,” Henry said, the name rolling off his tongue with ease. David whined in his arms.

“I don’t think he likes it,” Amy said with a smile, giving the dog a gentle pat.

“Let’s think about it. We don’t have to name him right now,” Shaan chuckled. “Make sure he’s not a bother, alright? And if he turns out to be a circus dog, maybe he’ll earn his keep.”

Henry grinned, suddenly excited. “Maybe I could train him, sir. Teach him some tricks.”

“He has potential, kid,” Shaan said, winking at him. “Just like someone else I know.”

“I think Alex is jealous,” Pez declared as he entered the tent. His pink hair was now dyed a fiery red that matched his performance as if he were becoming the fire himself. Dressed in a dark red corset shimmering with black sequins and a frilled collar that sat like the ruff of a Victorian ghost, Pez was possibly the most striking performer in the circus. His hands were encased in delicate, fingerless gloves, and his striped shorts hugged his hips. A long pearl necklace cascaded over the costume that Henry was pretty sure he had borrowed from Nora.

Henry looked away from David, holding a scrap of meat just out of the dog’s reach. “Jealous? Of what?” he asked, puzzled.

“David, of course,” Pez replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Without missing a beat, he snatched one of the pieces of meat Henry had set aside and tossed it to David before Henry could react.

“Hey! Stop that. I’m trying to do something here,” Henry chided. “He only gets treats if he does a trick. Watch this.”

He crouched down, guiding David through a series of tricks—sit, paw, spin—his voice bright and encouraging. David followed his commands with excitement, earning a laugh from Henry and an affectionate ruffle behind the ears.

Pez chuckled, thoroughly entertained. “You’re a natural, David. You’ll be stealing the show in no time.”

Henry beamed, his pride evident. “I think so too,” he said, giving David an affectionate ruffle. “But only if Alex doesn’t steal him first.”

“Why would Alex steal your dog?” Pez asked, clearly baffled at the thought.

Henry frowned, reaching up to scratch his head in confusion. “You just told me he was jealous I have a dog.”

Pez’s smile spread like wildfire, sweeping and uncontainable. “Oh, Henry, dear. No.”

“No?”

“No,” Pez repeated, and his eyes—dark, lined with kohl—sparkled with delight. “He’s jealous because you’ve been far too busy training David and have not paid an ounce of attention to him. You see, Alex is like a garden that needs constant care. Without it, he just withers.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, “Haven’t you been paying attention to him? What about June?”

“Lord,” Pez sighed dramatically. “He doesn’t want our attention. He wants yours.”

Henry blinked, his cheeks warming slightly. "He…does?"

Before Pez could respond, Alex strode in. “Hello, fellas,” he exclaimed as he entered the tent, affecting an English accent. “Don’t mind me. Just here to train these muscles a bit!” Alex struck a pose, showing off his arms with exaggerated effort. He flexed dramatically, his costume—a glittering, sheer fabric over his shoulders and high-waisted trousers embroidered with cosmic patterns that matched June’s—hugging his form in ways that were…highly distracting.

Henry’s breath caught for a second, and Pez muttered under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”

Alex sauntered closer, leaning against a crate with a grin. “So, what are we up to? More dog tricks?”

Henry nodded quickly. “Yeah, David’s getting pretty good.”

Pez stood, patting Henry on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” he said, winking at Henry before exiting. “I’m off to see if I can convince Nora to dye her hair after our performance tonight. I keep telling her purple would look fab on her."

Henry's face heated up again. He darted his eyes to Alex, who looked thoroughly amused. With his eyes fixed on Henry, he answered Pez, “Oh, tell her I will convince Amy to make her a new costume to match if she does it.”

Pez gave him a mock salute and exited the tent.

Still lounging against the crate, Alex watched him with a small smile. The air between them thickened with unspoken words. Alex’s presence filled the space. There was a flutter of nervous anticipation in Henry's stomach as he realised how much he craved Alex’s attention. Just as much as Alex wanted his, according to Pez.

“Seems like you’ll be ready to start performing with him any day now,” Alex remarked.

Henry shrugged, looking down. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Hardly anyone will want to see Davey sit and spin for 10 minutes straight.”

“I think everyone would be too distracted by you, anyway,” Alex muttered, his gaze lingering on Henry.

Henry’s heart skipped a beat. Was Alex flirting with him? He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t know about that,” he muttered, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

“In any case, you’ll be teaching him magic tricks in no time,” Alex said confidently. Henry turned to find that smile of his, gentle and earnest, making his pulse race.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Magic tricks?”

“Is that not the plan? I just thought…” he trailed off, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“What?”

“Well, I thought you might show David some of your dad’s magic tricks,” Alex nodded toward the dog, who was now lying down at Henry's feet, looking up at him with adoration.

“How do you—Oh.”

The memory returned to Henry, crisp and clear—his dad’s hands moving with practised ease, making the ball appear out of thin air, and the way Alex's face lit up in wonder. For so long, this small detail had been buried under so many other memories, ones far heavier and darker. But now, it was as if he had found something precious he thought he'd lost. The longer he held onto it, the more it spread, colouring the rest of that evening in a warm, golden light he’d almost forgotten.

“I maintain he’d have been a great addition to our circus,” Alex said, bringing him back into the tent.

Henry sniffled and nodded. “I—I guess I hadn’t really even considered that,” he hesitated, glancing down at the dog, then back up at Alex. Henry paused for a second, knowing there would be no turning around after saying the words. He exhaled, “Alex, I don’t know if I’d be able to do it. To do him justice.”

Alex’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, voice gentle. “You don’t have to be just like him. You have to find your own magic.”

Henry swallowed, the tightness in his chest present once more, but this time, it was mixed with a strange, fluttering excitement. “Will you help me?”

Alex's smile deepened, his eyes never leaving Henry’s. “Me? How?”

“We’re gonna need a practise audience.”

Alex laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver down Henry's spine. “Is that all? I’ll bravely accept the title of your first fan.”

Henry's lips curved into a tentative smile. “I’m serious. I’ve been so caught up with David’s training I haven’t even thought about how to make it a real act. And if I’m going to add magic, I need someone who can tell me if it’s working.”

Alex nodded, the glimmer in his eyes giving way to sincerity. “I’m serious, too. The honour would be mine. If anyone could turn a simple trick into something spectacular, it’d be you.”

Henry’s cheeks warmed. “You really think so?”

Alex gave Henry a playful nudge with his bare foot. “Absolutely. If you ever need inspiration, think of your dad. I bet he’d be thrilled to see you carrying on a little of his magic.”

“Yeah. I think he would.” Henry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. The thought of making his dad proud gave him a surge of determination. “I’ll give it a shot. But don’t laugh if I mess up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Alex promised, holding up a hand as if making an oath.

The two stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with something Henry couldn’t quite name, something he hadn’t ever felt before. There was a flutter in his stomach, an anticipation he couldn’t shake. Then he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So…practise session tonight after the show?”

Alex’s smile turned teasing. “Tonight, tomorrow, and the day after. I’m not letting you off the hook until I see some real magic, baby.”

Henry snorted, but the nickname made his heart skip a beat. “Deal. Just don’t expect me to pull David out of a hat on the first try.”

Alex laughed again, the sound inexplicably brighter. “We’ll start with something simpler. Maybe make Pez disappear for a bit.” He winked.

Henry nodded, his body lighter. “The hard part will be bringing him back.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t stay away,” Alex winked again. “He’d miss me too much.”

“Yeah,” Henry smiled shyly. “I don’t think anyone would ever be able to stay away from you.”

Alex perked up. “Is that so?”

Henry opened his mouth to speak before Shaan’s voice came through the tent, announcing show time for all the attendees. Alex groaned.

“Uh, I gotta…Just…We’ll practise tonight, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That night, after doing their part to pack up the circus, Alex and Henry reconvened in one of the smaller wagons. The space was dimly lit by a small lantern swinging slowly from the ceiling, casting a soft, flickering light across their faces. The night outside was still but for the rhythmic turn of the wheels against the road. They were all so familiar with the sound that it was merely background noise.

Henry sat cross-legged on the floor, David sprawled out beside him, wagging his tail lazily. Alex sat across from them and followed with a curious tilt of his head as Henry placed a few items he had collected between them.

“I think we can do a balancing act,” Henry said, turning a deck of cards over. “But it's…I don’t know, too simple. Like it’s missing something.”

Alex leaned back against the wall, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s a start! You can build off that. What other ideas have you got?”

“I don’t know…tug-of-war?” Henry said, doubtful. He leaned forward, his hands pressing against the floor. “But what comes after? It’s not enough.”

Alex contemplated him momentarily before scooting closer and encouragingly placing his hands on Henry’s shoulders. “Here’s a thought, you know Zahra and Pez’s act? The fearless dragon slayer that has to team up with a dragon to save the world.”

Henry chuckled and nodded. “It’s brilliant.”

“It is,” Alex agreed. “Everybody loves their act because it tells a story. Yes, it’s hard not to be entertained by someone throwing knives around a person breathing fire, but it stays in people’s minds because they take them on a journey.” He raised his chin defiantly, “What’s your story? You and David—what’s your journey together?”

Henry paused, thinking for a moment. He hadn’t considered it like that before. Henry lit up as a stream of ideas cursed through his mind, each more daring than the last. There’s nothing he loved more than telling a story.

“I’ll be an escape artist,” Henry begins, standing up and gesturing to support his tale. “My clever companion, David, mysteriously disappears and reappears to help save the day. I’ll need to figure out how to get out of the chains and teach David his part, but I think the audience would love it.” Henry was giddy at the thought. He turned back to Alex, “Plus, I need someone to help me with the props.”

“I’m sure Cash would be happy to help with the props,” Alex said. “And Amy will definitely whip up some great costumes for you and David.”

“Yes! Perfect!” Henry clapped his hands together. “I’m going to need someone up there with us to help trap me, though.”

Alex’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ll help with that. I’ve got some ideas on how we can make the traps both safe and impressive. We’ll make sure it’s all set for a show-stopping performance.”

Henry smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude and anticipation. “Thanks, Alex. You’ve helped me immensely today.”

“Anytime,” Alex said, looking up at him through thick eyelashes.

Henry stared at Alex for a moment, then giggled, shaking his head. “I don’t know if this is genius or completely ridiculous.”

David’s ears perked up as if he had overheard his name, and Henry ruffled the dog’s fur affectionately. “Alright, there’s no time to waste. Let’s get to practising.”

What followed was a blur of late-night practises. In between towns and shows, under the dim light of the lanterns, Henry, Alex, and David worked together; their tent always filled with the sounds of their experiments and laughter. Henry spent hours getting accustomed to the escape techniques while David learned to navigate the props and cues. It was no easy work, as neither had ever done anything remotely similar.

Henry started with the basic escape techniques, practising getting out of ropes and chains while Alex timed him. David stayed on the sidelines at first, although Henry occasionally incorporated him into the practise sessions, having him assist with small tasks to see how they worked together.

Cash created makeshift props for the act—a box with hidden latches and ropes—that Henry tested over and over to find the best possible configuration for their show. For David’s part, they worked on a trick where he would seem to disappear entirely from the stage, vanishing through a trapdoor, only to reappear at the perfect moment to aid Henry in his escape—the hours slipped by, the practise sessions stretching into the early morning. Henry’s muscles ached with all the exertion, but he was happier than he had been in months.

Eventually, they had a routine that felt promising. Henry had grown adept at slipping free from the chains and ropes, and David appeared and disappeared flawlessly throughout the act, clearly a natural.

As they finished for the night, Henry wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned back, looking up at the sky through a crack in the tent. The stars twinkled above, and the cool night air was refreshing. It was one of those rare nights when they weren’t on the road, instead opting for setting up camp to regain energy.

"I think we’re getting close," Henry said, his voice filled with tired satisfaction.

Alex smiled beside him, his gaze flicking between Henry and David. "You’ve done a great job.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Henry turned to Alex, a thought crossing his mind. "Do you ever miss it? The circus you grew up in?"

Alex’s face fell a little. He glanced toward the aerial hoop swaying gently on the other side of the tent, its silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. "Come on," he said, standing up and extending a hand to Henry. "Let me show you something."

They walked together across the tent, the stillness of the night settling over them like a warm blanket. Everyone else was probably asleep by then, recovering to perform in the upcoming days. Alex led the way to the aerial hoop, his expression uncharacteristically neutral, as if whatever he was about to share was something personal, something sacred.

Alex paused in front of the hoop and set his hand lightly, resting on it. He looked intently through it as if it contained visions from the past. "Our parents’ circus was great, don’t get me wrong. And we all were very close, but…it was safe. June and I followed in their footsteps. They passed down everything they knew to us and had some of the most experienced performers train us…but June and I—we knew there was so much more out there. We wanted something bigger. Something that would push us. We grew up surrounded by extraordinary people, people who would push the envelope every single day…” He lifted himself onto the hoop, his legs dangling softly underneath him. He peered down at Henry, his eyes reflecting the faint moonlight. “‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ gave us an opportunity we couldn’t pass up. We wanted to see the world, to show everyone what we could do. Shaan took us under his wing and told us to join him for as long as we wanted.”

“Do you miss them? Your parents?” Henry asked.

“Of course, every day,” Alex sighed. He grasped both sides of the hoop and wrapped one of his legs around it. With a fluid motion, Alex tucked his body and rolled forward, the hoop’s metal frame gliding against his skin. He raised his hand to the top of the hoop and propped himself into a sitting position. His body rested with his spine against the hoop, one hand gripping the top for support while the other hung relaxed at his side. His legs were folded with his feet planted firmly on the hoop. Alex peered down at Henry with a proud smile, “We write to each other all the time, and who knows, maybe I’ll go back eventually…Whenever I’ve found what I’m looking for.”

Henry grabbed the hoop, steadying him. “And what is that?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Alex shrugged. “I’m not too worried about it. The cirque is my home right now.”

Henry studied him, Alex’s words sinking in, planting roots. He was familiar with the yearning for more, of searching for a place to belong. "Do you think I’ll ever feel like that?" Henry asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

"Yeah. I think you’re already on your way there." Alex smiled, that same understanding smile and sat up, reaching for him. Henry raised his arms tentatively, and Alex lifted him, his feet merely an inch from the ground. He twirled for a moment, gripping Alex as tightly as he could before he put Henry back down.

"Come on. You have to see the world from up here,” Alex said, reaching down for him again. This time, ready to lift him all the way up.

Henry chuckled nervously but complied. With Alex’s guidance, he climbed onto the hoop, his hands gripping the metal ring as Alex positioned him carefully. The hoop swayed under their weight, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through him.

“Just relax,” Alex said in a whisper, helping him loosen his white-knuckled grip on the hoop. “I got you.”

The hoop rocked slightly under their combined weight, but Alex moved smoothly, adjusting to stabilise them. Their legs brushed as they manoeuvred to face each other, and Henry tried to focus on his breathing, but his pulse was racing for a myriad of reasons. The main one was staring right at him.

“Okay, I’ll swing us a bit now,” Alex warned him softly, making a move that caused the hoop to rock back and forth gently. Henry followed his lead, finding the rhythm. Alex’s hand brushed against Henry’s as he adjusted his grip on the hoop, the brief touch lingering a moment too long.

"You’re doing great," Alex whispered, his voice barely audible.

The hoop continued to sway, but the air between them shifted. Henry’s heart continued to pound.

“You want to see a cool trick?” Alex asked with a playful smile. Henry had seen him do about everything that could possibly be done in this hoop, but he still nodded. Alex swung himself up, hooking his legs over the bar, letting his body hang upside down as he stretched out his arms for balance. Henry yelped in surprise, watching as Alex, suspended in mid-air, swayed closer.

“You should lean back, baby,” Alex said, his voice only slightly strained from the effort. “See the world upside down, too.”

Henry leaned back cautiously, gripping the hoop as tightly as possible. With his back arched, the floor became the ceiling and the top of the tent, an optical illusion from hell.

“Woah, I don’t like that,” Henry said, straightening up, breathless, his face now inches from Alex’s. “I think I’ll leave this trick to you.”

Their eyes met again. Henry's flickered between Alex’s mouth and back to his eyes. The air between them shifted, and something unspoken hung in the space.

Henry didn’t think. He couldn’t think. Before he knew it, he was leaning in, and Alex was too, and then their lips met in a kiss that was delicate, tentative, but full of promises. The world blurred around them as the hoop continued to sway, but they felt grounded in each other's lips. The kiss was something steady, something real.

As the kiss ended, Alex and Henry pulled away slightly, their faces still close, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Alex laughed, almost losing his balance, and jumped down, landing expertly on his feet. He helped Henry off the hoop, their hands brushing briefly.

Alex’s eyes were warm and full of emotion as he gazed at Henry. “Wow.”

Henry’s smile was gentle, almost shy. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone equally soft.

The hoop continued to sway lightly on top of them, and the world outside the tent felt distant, as if it had paused just for them.

“Was it my upside-down trick that finally did it or—”

“Oh, do shut up,” Henry gave him a playful shove.

“You know I’ve liked you for years, right?” Alex said, his hands grabbing Henry’s tentatively. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been trying to hide it.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were serious at first,” Henry admitted. “But I like you. I’ve liked you for quite a while, too.”

Alex’s smile got impossibly wider as he crashed their lips together once more. Henry giggled against his kiss, their teeth bumping against each other’s smiles.

“I know you're an escapist, but I won’t let you get away from this,” Alex joked, intertwining their fingers.

“It’s alright. I’m not even that good at escaping without David’s assistance,” Henry said, his voice filled with warmth. He squeezed Alex’s hand gently.

As they walked back to camp together, side by side, the night held a promise. The air between them was charged with a new, subtle energy, each step forward seeming poised on the edge of whatever came next. The world around them continued its gentle rhythm, but for now, it felt like they were at the centre of it, spinning together through the air.

As the days rolled on after their first kiss, the circus camp became a flurry of activity. The week leading up to Henry’s debut performance was filled with relentless practise and careful preparation. Henry, Alex, and David threw themselves into perfecting their act. Henry had never been busier between costume fittings with Amy, adjusting the props with Cash, and the nervous excitement surrounding their final rehearsals.

Shaan organised a preview of his act, with all circus members sitting on the bleachers to witness it for the first time. Jittering nerves invaded Henry’s entire body as he adjusted his white, full-body costume that Amy had intricately embroidered with gold and yellow roses to match David’s bowtie and Alex’s pants. They were ready. They had gone over their choreography thousands of times. They knew it by heart.

“You’re going to knock them dead,” Alex said, adjusting the collar of Henry’s costume. He held a single yellow rose in his hand, extending it for him. “For good luck.”

Henry couldn’t contain the grin that spread on his face. He grabbed the rose, bringing it to his nose to sniff it. The subtle scent filled him with peace. Everything was going to be okay.

“I’m ready.”

“Wait, almost,” Alex said, pinning the flower over Henry’s ear. “There. Good to go. We’ve got this. Just remember to enjoy it.”

As the lights dimmed, everyone, in their casual attire, filled the bleachers with their own mix of anticipation and curiosity. Amy, her eyes sparkling with pride, sat with June and Nora while Cash, Pez, Zahra, and the others exchanged jokes and friendly banter.

Shaan walked into the middle of the ring in his casual attire but affected his ringmaster’s voice as he said, “Watch as things vanish, then appear, with tricks that sparkle and bring cheer. Prepare for wonder, joy, and delight as Henry and David dazzle tonight!”

Shaan slipped to the seats, and Henry strode confidently into the centre of the ring with David at his side. He made a grand gesture and a bow, and everyone fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves for a night of whimsical wonder and daring feats! I, Henry Fox, shall defy the very limits of human dexterity…or at least try not to embarrass myself too much. And if all else fails—well, David here will be at the ready with a wag and a woof to save the day.”

David barked on cue, receiving delighted laughs and coos from the crowd. It was precisely the reaction Henry had been hoping for.

Their routine unfolded seamlessly. Henry faked being unable to untie the ropes around his wrists, only for David to come and free him with a gentle tug. Henry then fell into a box, getting trapped once again. David balanced the key on his nose, to everyone's delight, only to disappear alongside it a moment later. Henry feigned panic, searching the stage with tongue-in-cheek urgency while the audience laughed and squealed.

David reappeared at the far end of the stage, and the crowd cheered. Henry acted relieved as David bounded over to assist him.

“There you are! Took you long enough. Now, how about a little help?” Henry said. David excitedly nudged the key into the box, helping Henry free himself. They took a grand bow together, their circus family applauding enthusiastically.

Alex, who had been assisting with props and helping Henry initially, put his arms around Henry’s waist and lifted him with a twirl as they exited the stage.

“You beautiful genius,” Alex gushed, pressing a kiss to Henry’s cheek. “That was incredible!”

Henry hugged him again. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Shaan cleared his throat behind them, and they jumped apart.

Henry smiled up sheepishly at him. “What do you think, sir?”

Shaan’s expression was a blend of pride and approval. “That was a fantastic performance,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on Henry's shoulder. “You’ve really found your place here.”

Henry’s heart swelled with a mix of relief and excitement. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Shaan's gaze softened as he looked down at David, who sat proudly by Henry's side. “And it looks like David's become quite the star, too. You’ve got something special here.”

Henry nodded. “He’s a natural, sir.”

“What do you say? Are you ready to perform in the main show?” Shaan asked.

Henry’s eyes widened in surprise and joy. "Really?"

“You’ve undoubtedly earned your spot in the circus,” Shaan said, clapping him on the back.

Henry’s smile grew wider, and David barked, sensing the excitement. Alex placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“We’re ready.”

“Good,” Shaan said with a warmth that Henry hadn’t heard from him before. “We’re all behind you, Henry.”

As the final applause faded and the audience’s cheers began to subside, Henry and David stood in the centre of the ring, their faces beaming with pride. The sound reverberated in Henry's chest, and his heart soared. Their first performance had gone off without a hitch, but still, Henry jotted down some mental notes for a few minor tweaks that would enhance the act in the future.

Amy’s solo performance on the tightrope followed theirs; she high-fived him as they crossed paths, and Henry wished her good luck before leaving the tent and joining the rest of the crew in the backlot. Alex was right behind him, talking about the performance in rapid succession. His excitement was contagious.

The atmosphere in the tent was electric. Performers in costume ran back and forth, attempting to follow the show while they waited for their performance. June, Pez, and Nora were the first to greet Henry as he stepped into the backlot, breathless and still buzzing from the adrenaline.

“You were brilliant!” Nora exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. She left a red lipstick smear on his cheek, but he didn’t attempt to wipe it.

“You did it!” June added, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I knew you would. Alex has been practising your routine more than ours.”

Henry blushed. “I’m sorry, rehearsals will be more scarce now that we’ve got it. I swear.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” June waved him off. “I was teasing you. We’ve got our number down to a T.”

“Can you stop scaring my boyfriend away?” Alex said, feigning annoyance. He beamed as he caught Henry’s eye.

June and Nora squealed before jumping to hug them, squeezing them hard. “Finally!” June screamed.

Pez and Nora jumped up and down, quickly swallowing Alex into their celebration.

June leaned closer to Henry and grabbed his hand as she whispered, “Please, please, don’t break his heart.”

Henry immediately shook his head. “I won’t. I couldn’t possibly.”

“Good,” June nodded, his smile softening.

Alex pulled Henry back for a kiss, slipping an arm around his waist. “I’m so proud of you.”

Henry’s chest filled with warmth. He took a moment to soak it all in—the sound of laughter, the scent of sawdust and fresh popcorn still lingering from the show, the same old sounds and scents from his childhood that had now taken a completely different meaning. He thought of his dad and hoped, somehow, he had seen him performing tonight.

He looked at Alex, ready to tell him about it, but just as Henry was about to speak, the backlot entrance swung open, and the chatter came to a sudden halt. He froze in place as an apparition from his old life came into view. Alex noticed the sudden shift in Henry’s posture and glanced toward the intruder. “Who’s that?” Alex asked under his breath, tension creeping into his voice.

“My brother,” Henry replied quietly, eyes not leaving Philip.

Philip’s face was thunderous, eyes locked on Henry.

“Henry!”

Henry could only stare at his brother's immaculate suit, Philip seemed to be from a different world entirely, standing out among the whimsical hand-made costumes around him. It felt like a dream, like something that couldn’t possibly be real.

“What are you doing here?” Henry managed, stepping forward, Alex’s grip tightening briefly on his waist before letting go.

Philip examined the group, his eyes filled with thinly veiled disdain. “What in the world do you think you’re doing here, Henry?”

The silence in the room became suffocating; they faintly registered the audience cheering for Amy on the Big Top. Even David, who had been wagging his tail moments before, sensed the tension and pressed against Henry’s leg.

Henry squared his shoulders. He wouldn’t back down now, not after everything. “This is my life, Pip. I’m a part of the circus now.”

“Yeah, I can tell since you’re dressed like a clown,” Philip answered, his voice turning mean.

“Hey! Careful there,” Cash swooped in. “That’s one of Amy’s best!”

Philip flinched, clearly not wanting a confrontation with him.

“It’s okay, Cash,” Henry said, intervening. He glared at Philip. “They’re my family now. You need to leave.”

Philip’s jaw tightened, his gaze burning with anger. “Your family is back home, Henry. Your real family. And Bea—” His voice lowered, suddenly raw with sadness, “Bea is not doing well.”

Henry felt as if the world had suddenly tipped over, dizzying. “What?”

“Bea’s been unwell for weeks now, and you’ve been too wrapped up in your little circus fantasy to know,” Philip spat out. “A family friend saw you with the circus back in York, and I thought surely not, but we were so desperate that I still followed the circus all the way to bloody Sunderland, and here you are. A disgrace to our family, that’s what you are.”

The room closed in on Henry, his stomach twisting with guilt. He caught sight of Alex, who looked back at him with concern but gave him space to sort this out.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Henry asked, his mind scrambling to process.

“We’ve been trying,” Philip snapped. “But you’ve made yourself impossible to reach. This circus, these freaks, they’ve turned you against your own family.”

“That’s not true,” Henry shot back, but his voice was weaker now. He knew Philip was wrong, that his own family had turned him away long ago, but he was too shaken to fight.

“I didn’t know. If I had—”

“But you didn’t.” Philip’s voice was sharp and cold. “Because you’ve chosen Dad’s stupid fantasy world over us, your family that is still here. Over Bea.”

A rush of guilt enveloped him. “I didn’t choose—”

“Yes, you did,” Philip cut him off. “You made your choice the moment you ran away. You abandoned us.”

The room was silent again, the force of Philip’s accusation hanging heavy in the air.

“I didn’t abandon her,” Henry murmured, but even he wasn’t sure if he believed it. He took a step back, and Alex was there, ready to catch him. Alex wrapped an arm around his waist and held him in place, his presence steadying him enough to continue. Philip looked at them the same way he had looked at the rest of the circus, with disdain, like it was a passing phase, an amusement Henry was supposed to outgrow.

Philip’s gaze faltered for a brief moment. He hesitated before speaking, his voice getting an edge of desperation, “Henry, she’s…not herself. The doctors can’t seem to find anything physical, but it’s clear she’s very ill. She’s...she’s been withdrawing, Henry. Not eating. Barely talking.”

Henry’s heart clenched at the thought of his sister suffering, and he hadn’t even known. Guilt washed over him like a tide. He cast a quick look at Alex, who was watching him closely, concern evident on his face. He could feel the circus pulling him in one direction, and now his family pulling him in another.

“Gran thinks seeing you might help. We’ve done everything we can, but nothing’s working,” he tried again. “You owe it to us.”

Henry couldn’t move, Alex’s arms his only lifeline tying him to the backlot. The moment was surreal, as if the past and present were colliding, and he wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore.

Philip’s words echoed in his mind: You abandoned us.

Sensing Henry's distress, Alex stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “Henry doesn’t owe anyone anything,” he said, his eyes locked on Philip’s. “He’s building something for himself. It doesn’t mean he loves his family any less.”

Philip turned to Alex, his face full of contempt once more. “You think you know him? He's only been here for, what, a few months? You don’t understand our family or the responsibilities he’s running from. He’s a coward.”

Henry flinched, and Alex tightened his grip.

“I know, Henry,” Alex replied steadily, keeping his gaze unwavering. “And I know he’s not running from anything. Removing yourself from an unhappy situation does not mean you’re running away from it. It simply means you’re not okay with being miserable. Perhaps something you should try.”

Henry watched the exchange, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, shame, and fear. Alex stood with him unwaveringly.

For a moment, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Philip stared at Alex as if weighing the threat before shifting his gaze back to Henry. “Please, come home. She needs you,” Philip said, quieter now, almost pleading. “If you don’t, and something happens to her...”

Henry inhaled sharply and shook his head as if trying to get rid of the thought. He looked between Alex and Philip, something in his heart tearing apart, irreparably breaking.

“I…” Henry tried, his voice cracking. Alex squeezed his hip, reminding him he wasn’t alone, and that was all it took for him to calm down enough to say, “I need to see Bea. But I’m not leaving this behind.”

Philip opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Alex spoke up again, his tone softening as he addressed Henry. “You don’t have to choose between us, Hen. Go see your sister. But know that when you’re ready, we’ll be here. This will always be your home.”

A tear fell down his cheek, and Alex brushed it away, kissing him briefly. Henry was sure then that he would never leave Alex behind. He couldn’t possibly.

“You’re a part of Le Cirque des Étoiles, Henry,” Pez said, June and Nora echoing the sentiment. And before he knew it, everyone in the backlot was enveloping him in a hug. David barked, going in circles around them.

He leaned into it, letting their presence comfort him. “Thank you,” Henry whispered.

Alex smiled softly. “We’ve got your back, always.”

The show went on without him. Philip would only leave after Henry had promised he would get on the train back to their hometown the next day. The rest of the crew gave him space to wrap his head around his departure, with only David staying on his lap, his weight a small comfort. Shaan checked on him every so often, reassuring him that he’d always have a place in his circus, no matter how long it took him to return. Alex stayed close before and after his performance, offering silent support.

“I don’t know how I let this happen,” Henry told him eventually, finding his voice. He ran his hand through David’s fur. “I should’ve written to her, made sure she was alright.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Alex said quickly, crouching down beside them, still wearing his matching costume with June. “But now you do, and you’re doing the right thing by going back to her. You’re a good brother.”

Henry nodded, filling his lungs with air. The sound of laughter and music from the circus mingled with the muffled sounds of the backlot, a bittersweet melody for Henry’s ears. He scooted closer to Alex, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“Who’s going to take care of David?”

Alex huffed. “We will. He’s one of us. Don’t worry about him; he’s in good hands.”

Henry nodded, his lower lip quivering. “Thank you, love.”

Alex’s breath hitched at the nickname, but he melted into Henry’s side a second later.

"I have something for you," Alex said quietly, extending a small box Henry hadn’t noticed he was holding. “I was planning on giving it to you under different circumstances, but… I think you should take it with you. A small reminder.”

Henry opened the box with vehement care. A small, intricately designed locket was positioned crookedly in the middle. Henry took it out of the box, opening it to reveal a photo of the two of them together, ‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ in the background. It had been taken the previous month, amongst the pictures Shaan had commissioned for the posters to promote Henry’s new act. Alex had walked in and demanded to have one of the two of them. Shaan had allowed it with a knowing smile on his face.

Henry clutched it tightly to his chest, more tears falling down his cheeks. He let Alex hold him for a long moment, both holding onto the other.

“I love it,” Henry said, wiping away his tears. He met Alex's eyes, his long eyelashes barely holding back tears. Henry kissed him, hoping it would convey everything he couldn’t find the words to say. Alex kissed him back, giving him the strength to deal with whatever Henry was about to face.

As he stepped onto the train the next day, he glanced back at the group who had refused to let him go to the train station by himself, their faces still visible through the steam. The coldness of the locket resting against his chest grounded him, a reminder of Alex and the life he was leaving behind—but only for now. He wasn’t saying goodbye forever, just for a little while. He took a deep breath and settled into his seat, knowing he’d find his way back.

It’s weird, Henry thought.

As he walked past the buildings he grew up surrounded by, the same familiar shapes and colours from his childhood, he couldn’t help but feel like something had irreparably changed. He could still see happy moments in the corner shop near his house or evenings spent with Bea and Philip at the park, but he recognised and accepted those were all in the past. These streets were his home once, and no one could take that away from him, but his dreams had outgrown the place. He didn’t belong there anymore, and he was okay with it.

Seeing the figure of his grandmother by the window didn’t feel quite as daunting as he thought it would. She had no power over him anymore. He was free.

“I’m here to see Bea,” he told her. “Where is she?”

Mary looked him up and down, assessing him. A shadow of disappointment crossed her features, but Henry stood proudly. “She’s in her bedroom; hasn’t left it in days. I don’t believe she has eaten either, but you wouldn’t care, would you?”

Henry ignored the venom in her voice and nodded. “I will bring some food to her.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Henry,” Mary said, stopping him, her expression severe and unforgiving. “It was time that you remembered your responsibilities. Beatrice needs you. It’s time for you to grow up and stop playing games.”

Henry let her words hang in the air momentarily. He stepped forward, his chin up and proud. “Yes, Gran. I think you’re quite right. It’s time for you to let me make my own choices. I will stay for a bit to make sure my sister is okay, but I’m not here for you, nor will I follow your orders. I’m not here to stay.”

“Your father would be so disappointed in you,” Mary said, her tone deathly.

The familiar twinge at the mention of his father settled in his stomach, but it didn’t cut as deep as it once had. He met his grandmother’s gaze steadily.

“Respectfully, I disagree,” Henry said, shrugging. “I think he’d understand better than anyone. The circus meant just as much to him as it does to me. Being there makes me feel closer to him than ever before.”

Mary’s face tightened, but Henry didn’t wait for her response. He was done being manipulated by her. Without another word, he walked past her and made his way to the kitchen, noticing the weight of the locket against his skin, grounding him, reminding him of the life he’d chosen for himself—a life where he wasn’t beholden to anyone’s expectations but his own. A life with Alex and the rest of the circus.

He prepared a platter of eggs, toast, and beans—enough for both Bea and himself. It kept his hands busy when all he wanted was to fidget nervously. He had no idea what was waiting for him in Bea’s room, and he didn’t feel quite prepared to confront it, but it was time. He owed it to Bea.

He knocked on the door softly and opened it without waiting for an answer.

“Go away, Pip. I already told you I’m not hungry,” Bea said from under her covers. Her small figure seemed even tinier, buried underneath the blankets in her bed.

“Oh, I suppose I shall eat this whole tray by myself then,” Henry says, leaning on the doorframe with a small smile. Hearing her voice was a relief, at least.

Bea turned sharply towards him, looking startled. Her eyes seemed too big for her face, and the rest of her was thin and frail. This scared him.

“Hen? Is that really you?” Bea exclaimed, pulling herself up from the bed with effort. Her eyes struggled to focus, searching his face. “Has it been a year already?”

“Not quite yet, honeybee,” he said, voice cautious. “My heart missed you dearly, so I thought I would pay you a visit.”

“I heard you found your act,” Bea whispers. “You’re doing magic like dad?”

“Yeah, of sorts,” Henry said. He set the tray on the small table near her bed and gently sat beside her, taking her hand. “My act was just added to the main show.”

“Oh, Henry, that sounds wonderful,” Bea exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry; I’m just so happy for you.”

Henry smiled, wiping away one of her tears. “I wish you could see it.”

“I would love to see it,” Bea said softly, though her voice wavered.

“You can.” Henry squeezed her hand, scooting closer to her. “Come to the circus with me. You don’t have to stay here.”

She looked down at their hands. “I don’t want to stay here,” she said, her voice trembling. Henry frowned when he realised it was shaking with anger, not sadness. She took her hand away. “Don’t you understand, Henry? I’m tired. I’m so bloody tired. I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

The words felt like a slap, unexpected and heavy with frustration. Henry thought he knew what Bea would say, how she would feel. But as he saw her frantically wipe away her tears, a sharp realisation hit him—he was dangerously close to doing what their grandmother often did: expecting things from her without listening to what she had to say first. He had assumed he knew what was best, but he hadn’t given her the space to be heard.

“I’m sorry, Bea,” he said softly, trying to comfort her. “Listen, you don’t have to decide anything right now. You don’t even have to go anywhere. But you don’t have to stay here and feel this way forever, either.”

Bea looked away, her eyes distant. “It’s not that simple,” she whispered. “I thought I could keep it together for Mum, keep trying...but nothing feels right anymore. I don’t even care if Gran gets mad. I just...I don’t know if I have the strength to leave or to stay.”

Henry’s heart ached for his sister. He reached out again, hesitantly, not trying to force anything, just wanting her to know he was there. “I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. But whatever you choose, I’m here. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Whatever you choose to do, the circus or something else, it doesn’t matter. I want you to be happy. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here.”

Bea’s lips quivered as she blinked away more tears. “I miss him so much, Hen,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

“I know,” Henry said, his own throat tightening. “I miss him, too. But you’re not alone in this, Bea. We can figure it out together, okay?”

She nodded slowly, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her, hoping his presence offered even the smallest comfort. For now, that was enough.

Henry didn’t leave Bea until he had made sure she had eaten something. They took their time as he told her tales about the circus. Henry was scared, but he eventually started talking about Alex—about the boy who had brought the light back into his life.

“I will have to thank him when the circus comes around,” she said with a knowing smile.

Henry didn’t leave her side until she fell asleep, still looking pale and tired but slightly more like the sister he had known his entire life. Henry closed the door quietly behind himself, careful not to wake her up, and then walked down the hall. Henry hadn’t seen his mother in months. As her door came into view, memories of the last time he had seen her echoed in his mind—the way she had sat in her armchair, staring out the window, her eyes hollow with grief.

He knocked lightly on the door, but the sound still echoed through the corridor.

“Come in,” her voice, faint but clear, called from inside.

Henry opened the door slowly. She sat by the window as if no time had passed. She was thinner than he remembered, but she smiled at him as if he were a vision. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but then Catherine got up from her chair and wrapped Henry in a loose hug.

“Henry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He moved them both to sit on her bed. He wanted to say so much, but the words felt heavy in his tongue. “How are you, Mum?”

“Oh, I’m quite alright,” she said, with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She caressed his cheek almost vehemently. “How are you, my darling? Philip told me he found you with the circus. I was worried sick when you left, but tell me, are you happy?”

He placed a hand over hers. “I am, Mum. I’m very happy. I like it there; it makes me feel close to Dad, makes me miss him a bit less.”

Catherine’s hand trembled slightly over his face at the mention of Arthur, her face falling. Henry rubbed his thumb over her hand soothingly.

“Mum, you can’t do this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. He grabbed her hand and lowered it to her lap. “I know how much you’ve been hurting, but I need you. Bea needs you…we can’t lose her too. She—she’s not herself anymore. She’s fading, Mum. I’m really worried about her.”

Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, her face pinched with pain. “I just…I…I don’t know how to help. Your father was always the strong one, the one who knew how to handle everything.” She fixed her gaze on him, her eyes full of sadness. “I’ve failed you both.”

“No, Mum,” Henry sighed. “You haven’t failed us; we know you’re doing your best. But Bea is never going to get better if she doesn’t get to live her life. You need to help her get out of here. She needs to play her music again, find the thing that will make her happy just like I did.”

Catherine’s shoulders sagged as she looked away, her eyes welling with tears. “Your grandmother only wants what’s best for her. She thinks…she thinks it’s the way to keep Bea safe.”

“But it’s not safe if it’s killing her,” Henry said, standing up. “Bea’s not going to survive much longer like this. You know that, don’t you?”

A sob escaped Catherine’s lips, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hold it together. Henry waited, his heart aching as the grief that had consumed her since Arthur’s death came bubbling to the surface again. It felt cruel to push, but he knew there was no other way.

“I can’t lose my baby, Henry,” Catherine whispered, shaking her head as if to push the emotion away. “We need to help her.”

Henry reached out and gently took her other hand. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted this for you—or for Bea. You need to find happiness again.”

She gave him a long, searching look, her breath trembling. Slowly, she nodded. “You’re right.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her eyes. “I should’ve been stronger. I will be. I’ll talk to Gran. I’ll make sure Bea gets to follow her music. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

Henry sighed with relief, feeling lighter than he had felt in months. “Thank you, Mum.”

Catherine squeezed his hands in return, a flicker of her old self returning in her smile. “You’re so much like him, you know. Your dad…he was always so proud of you, Henry. He’d still be.”

Henry nodded with a knot in his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was the conversation with Bea or finally seeing his mother ready to confront her grief, but something inside him had begun to settle. It wasn’t an end to the pain but a step forward.

As they sat in the brief silence, Henry tried to take a calming breath. His heart was pounding as the following few words formed in his head.

“Mum,” he began slowly, “there’s someone else I want to tell you about.”

Catherine raised an eyebrow, a gentle curiosity lighting up her face. “Oh?”

Henry couldn’t contain a smile as he thought about Alex. His Alex. “I—I’ve met someone…at the circus. Alex…he—he’s been a huge part of why I’m so happy there. He helped me find my place.”

Catherine studied his face for a moment before a soft smile spread across her lips. “He sounds like a great friend.”

Henry shook his head, bracing for whatever came next. “He’s not…he's more than just a friend, Mum.” He paused, glancing at her to gauge her reaction. “I’m…I’m in love with him.”

Catherine’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Oh, Henry,” she said, her voice full of tenderness. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”

Henry exhaled, her words settling over his shoulders like a warm blanket, like a hug. He hadn’t known what to expect, but this…this was everything he needed.

“Would you like to meet him? Maybe when the circus is in town?” Henry asked, his cheeks warming up.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Catherine nodded, her smile growing as well. “I’d love nothing more.”

The sound of cutlery hitting china resonated in the room. Henry could see Bea pushing her food around aimlessly instead of eating it. He held back from saying anything—the tension was already too suffocating. Catherine kept clearing her throat every few minutes as if ready to speak, but the words never came.

Henry wondered what Alex would be doing; he guessed it would be close to show time for him. He wished to be there instead of at this table where words seemed to accumulate in each of their throats without escape. He shoved broccoli in his mouth and swallowed, barely chewing it, and instead trying to get the knot of words back down. It was no use.

He coughed lightly. Everyone turned to look at him.

He stared back at his family, realising he couldn't hold his thoughts in any longer.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, looking at his grandmother. “Are you really that surprised Bea is not doing well if this is what dinner looks like every night?”

Mary set down her fork and knife in an unnervingly calm manner and Bea shrank in her seat as if wishing she could disappear.

“Last I checked, you were not planning on sticking around,” Mary said in an icy tone. “Please refrain from cavilling about our family dynamics.”

“Mum!” Catherine hissed. “Henry is as much a part of this family as anyone else at this table.”

“He chose to leave, Catherine.” Mary pursed her lips.

“Yes!” Catherine shot up, palms flat on the table. “Of course, he left, mum! How could he stay? We gave him no choice!”

“Cath—”

“And now he belongs there,” she continued, her voice breaking. “How sodding awful is that? He feels happier, comforted…accepted at the circus, surrounded by strangers. We did that. You don’t get to be upset with him about it.”

Mary’s expression didn’t waver. She reached for her glass of water, taking a calculated sip as if the room weren’t falling apart around her.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that’s the best life for him?” she said with disdain. “Running around the country with—with those freaks!” She clutched her necklace, pulling a pained face. “He should be ashamed he brought our family into those circles.”

Henry clenched his fists under the table. The anger rose in his throat, but before he could say anything, Catherine cut in again.

“No, Mum,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “We don’t get to choose what’s best for him. It’s not our life. It’s his. And he clearly knows himself well enough to have chosen something that brings him joy. We should be happy for him. We should be learning from him.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. She pushed her plate away. “I told that husband of yours to stop taking the kids to the circus, that it would only fill their heads with nonsense. Look at them now! It has ruined this family.”

“The circus saved me, Gran,” Henry muttered, unable to keep quiet any longer. He leaned forward, his gaze hard. “Look at Bea. You’ve pushed her to the edge. She needed your support, your love—just like I did. I don’t even think I would still be here if I hadn’t run away.”

Mary pressed her lips into a thin line, her silence colder than her words had been.

“I need you to decide, Gran,” Henry continued, his voice firm. “Do you want a grandson who’s alive, even if it means he’s among those you call ‘freaks,’ or do you want me gone?” Mary’s face faltered slightly at the question. Henry shook his head. “You have to know there’s no other choice for me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of cou—” Catherine began to say, but Henry stopped her with a look.

“No, Mum, I know what your answer is,” Henry said, crossing his arms. “I want to hear Gran’s.”

Mary inhaled sharply, looking conflicted. She stared at him for a moment, then turned to Bea. Her eyes softened slightly, a shadow of sadness crossing through her face. Mary studied her palms, her brows furrowed.

“Henry, you have to understand. I’m simply doing my best to protect you—and to protect the family,” Mary said after a long pause. “I don’t want you to face a difficult life. Being on the road with those strangers won’t be as easy or glamorous as you think. You’ll regret it.”

“Even if he does, he always has a home here,” Catherine intervened. She went over to Bea, crouching to her eye level. “You both do. Bea, my love, our little honeybee, Dad would never forgive me if I let you go down the same path as me. You need to get out of here; go live your life.”

“So now you’re sending Beatrice away to the circus as well?” Mary huffed. “You've lost your mind!”

“If that's what she wants, Mum! I want my children to have what you never gave me—”

“I gave you everything. I kept this family together after Arthur—”

“I’ve never had your support!” Catherine screamed. “Nothing I did was ever good enough for you! You always made me feel like your love was conditional, and I refuse to put my babies through that. If we can’t agree on that, we will leave. You can keep your house, and your money, and your…your…”

“Pride?” Bea offers.

“Pride!” Catherine exclaims. “You can keep it all and die all by yourself! My kids and I will go somewhere else, a place where Bea can play her music, and Philip can raise his kids with Martha. Henry will have a room to visit whenever he wants. I won’t let you terrorise them a second longer!”

The room went deathly silent after Catherine’s outburst. Henry was sure they must all be able to hear his heartbeat, loud and fast in his ears. Mary stared at his Mum, unrelenting, unapologetic. She raised her chin higher, and, with the slightest tremor in her voice, she said, “Then leave.”

Bea gasped softly, looking at Henry across the table. He ran a hand through his hair, defeated. He knew it would most likely come to this, but it was still disheartening to see their grandmother die on this hill. Henry couldn’t imagine what Philip would say about the whole thing, his brother who had so faithfully complied with their grandmother’s every whim.

“I’m going back,” Henry said, his voice quieter now. “To the circus. To my life. And I’m taking Bea with me while you sort this out…if she’ll come.”

Bea flinched at being addressed, her eyes darting from Henry to their mother. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress, then finally spoke in a small but steady voice, “I don’t want to live like this anymore...I’m going with Henry.”

Catherine nodded, tears threatening to spill. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.” She smiled at her daughter, bringing her hands to Bea’s face. “Go with your brother. You’ve spent enough time trapped in this house.” She turned to address him. “I’ll write as soon as I can.”

As they walked out of the room and into the hallway, Catherine spoke softly, her voice filled with conviction. “We’re going to be alright. We’re going to make it. Together.”

Henry exhaled, feeling the knot in his chest finally loosen. He glanced at Bea, who was beginning to stand a little taller despite the tears in her eyes.

They were free.

The pressure in Henry’s chest didn’t relent until he caught sight of the Big Top at ‘Le Cirque des Étoiles.’ Those red, white, and blue stripes called his name, ready for his comeback. He had spent the entire train ride to Cardiff trying to lift Bea’s spirits. She was still distant, but he’d caught glimpses of her old self here and there. Henry didn’t mind; he knew it would take time for his sister to heal and realise how much she had been missing. He’d help her every step of the way.

When they arrived at the field where the circus had set up, the sky had darkened, the last rays of sunshine hidden behind the hills. A few tents had already been taken down, while the others still towered high above them. The chatter of the crew winding down after their performance surrounded them, though no one noticed their arrival.

As she looked around, Bea clung to his arm, nervously taking it all in.

He felt his presence before actually seeing him. His eyes connected with Alex’s as he straightened back up from picking up a discarded flyer on the ground. Alex’s eyes widened in surprise before a bright smile spread across his face.

“Henry!”

Henry had no time to brace himself before Alex ran to wrap his arms around him. He melted into the embrace, finally feeling safe.

“Welcome home, baby,” Alex whispered against his neck.

David barked as he ran to nuzzle his legs, over and over, as if he was trying to make sure Henry was really there.

“Oi, Davey! I missed you!” Henry said, rubbing his ears and earning a lick on the back of his hand. “Have you been practising? Did they treat you right, buddy?”

“Yeah, about that…” Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have given him one too many treats…but look at that face! I couldn’t say no to him, he was so sad! I couldn’t let our child just…wilt away!”

A smile overtook Henry’s face. “Our child?”

“Well, yes, we’ve bonded now!” Alex said, letting David lick his hand to emphasise his point. “You can’t take him away from me after all we went through. It would be cruel!”

David barked, and Alex picked him up, squeezing his face against David’s and batting his eyelashes for Henry.

“You guys do have an uncanny resemblance,” Henry mused jokingly. “I guess we can share him as long as you don't steal him for your spec.”

“We would never betray you like that,” Alex said as he placed David on the ground.

The rest of the performers quickly caught on. They surrounded Henry with tales from the last week, like how Zahra accidentally stabbed Pez—only a minor injury—or how Amy had begun incorporating stilts into her performance. Henry absorbed it all. He knew he was lucky to call these people his family.

Bea stayed back, quietly watching him interact with the circus in awe. Henry extended his hand to her, bringing her to the middle of the group.

“This is my sister, Beatrice,” he said proudly. Only then did he realise maybe the circus wouldn’t be as keen to take her in as he’d thought.

Amy jumped forward, immediately wrapping her in a one-armed hug. “Please tell me you’re here to stay—we need way more women in this place.”

“Amen to that!” Nora added. Zahra and June whooped behind her.

Henry relaxed and gave Bea’s hand an encouraging squeeze.

“I—I was hoping you wouldn’t mind me tagging along for a bit,” Bea said. “Just a few weeks until I figure out what to do next.”

“Of course, no one’s tied to the circus,” June said. Her eyes flickered to Alex, and something flashed across them that Henry couldn't quite translate fast enough. “We’ll just have to make the most of your time here.”

Shaan stepped forward, opening his arms in a grand gesture that enveloped the entire circus. “‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ is for everybody. You’re more than welcome to stay, Beatrice.”

“It’s Bea,” she said, standing slightly taller and sounding more like herself. “Thank you.”

Henry turned to Alex, feigning annoyance. “He made me take down like half of the tents on my first night to ‘earn my spot’,” he said.

Alex smirked, not missing a beat. "That was for your own good, sweetheart. Builds character," he teased, poking Henry in the ribs before turning to Bea with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, we won’t make you do any heavy lifting—unless you want to.”

Bea gave a small, uncertain laugh, her hesitation melting away as curiosity took over. “Well, I guess I’m more of the brains, while Henry’s the muscle. But I’m happy to pitch in wherever I can.”

“Henry, the muscle?” Nora asked with a shit-eating grin. “I saw him trying to carry some sandbags, and it looked like he was hugging them for support more than lifting them.”

“Hey! I was doing my best! I’m still convinced you filled them with rocks just to mess with me.”

“I would never,” Nora said with a smile that said the exact opposite.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Alex jumped in, snaking his arm around Henry’s waist. “You’ve got brains and charm on your side.” He pinched his arm softly. “And, okay, maybe a little muscle.”

“Thanks, Alex, always looking out for me,” Henry said with a hint of sarcasm, only undermined by the smile tugging at his lips.

Bea hummed. “Well, I’m definitely not starting with sandbags. Maybe something a bit more...strategic.”

“Strategic?” Henry snorted. “That sounds like code for bossing me around.”

Bea shrugged with a smirk. “Hey, someone’s gotta do it.”

Alex laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Henry’s, warming him from the inside out. “Well, Henry’s definitely good at following orders. You should’ve seen him when he first got here.”

Bea rolled her eyes, finally easing into the group’s banter. “I bet. Getting him to break the rules was nearly impossible when we were little. But don’t worry—I’m not here to make things harder. I’ll help where it counts.”

“You’ll find your place, Bea.” Shaan stepped forward, a welcoming smile on his face. “‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ is all about heart. And we’ve got plenty of room for yours.”

Bea stood a little straighter, her grin softening just a bit.

Henry gave her an encouraging nod, exchanging private smiles that only they could understand. The performers continued to welcome her, and Henry glanced at Alex, whose smile hadn’t faded. For the first time in a long while, Henry felt like everything was falling into place. He was where he was supposed to be, surrounded by the people who mattered most.

Finally, he was home.

Pez and Henry sat cross-legged, facing each other, their knees bumping with every small movement. Pez licked his thumb and added more paint to Henry's cheek. Instinctively, Henry closed his eyes, and Pez let out a tsk.

“Stop that,” Pez warned him. “You’re gonna ruin it.”

“You almost poked my eyeball!”

“I was like an inch away from it,” Pez said, tapping Henry’s cheek with his knuckle. “I’m going to leave if you keep complaining, and then Zahra will have to do your eyeliner.”

“Wait, no,” Henry said, going perfectly still. “She’s so mean. My eye kept tearing up last time, and she got so mad that she tried to make me cry for real.”

“Stay still, then,” Pez said. He stuck out his tongue as he drew the final lines. Once he was done, Pez leaned back and made a frame with his hands to admire his handiwork. Henry smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do under the scrutiny. Pez finally nodded approvingly and patted his thigh. “Okay, you look absolutely fabulous.”

“Thank you,” Henry said with a flourish. “Never as fabulous as you, though.”

“That’s true,” Pez deadpanned. “But you can keep trying.”

Henry got up and followed him out of the wagon; most of the tents were already set up around them in their familiar spots. For the last three years, Henry had gotten so used to the layout that he could probably make his way around it with a blindfold. Henry registered Zahra and Shaan squabbling while they set up a tent together, but he wasn’t looking for them. Henry ducked and turned to avoid being in the way of everyone else’s job as he tried to spot a familiar set of curls.

A few minutes later, he finally found him tangled in a net of aerial silks. Alex glanced up at him, distressed.

“Are you trying escapism?” He teased him.

Alex didn't laugh. Instead, he continued to fight with the colourful silk. “It's cutting off my circulation.”

“Let me help,” Henry said, quickly taking the dark blue fabric in his hands and starting to work through the knots. He chanced a look at Alex, who was very focused on his own shadow on the ground. “How are you doing?”

“I’m terrified,” he confessed. Henry smiled. He knew Alex wouldn’t have been so keen to admit that with anyone else. Henry stayed silent, sensing Alex would keep talking if he gave him the space. Sure enough, as soon as he had been freed, Alex sat on a barrel and continued to speak. “June has always been there to catch me. I’m not sure I can do this without her. We were supposed to be a package deal. That’s how we were trained; it’s all I’ve ever known…I just feel so lost, Hen…I know she needed to go back home and explore other things without me, but I don't know what I'm doing up there without her.”

Henry set down the fabric and wrapped Alex up in his arms from behind. He placed a kiss on his head and squeezed him lightly. “You’ve practised and trained by yourself for months. You’re ready. I’ve seen you. I know I put on the magic show, but that’s all tricks and foolery.” Alex looked up at him, his eyelashes fluttering. “You’re the real magic. You know what my dad said about you once?”

“What did he say?”

“He called you fearless.” Henry smiled at the memory. “We couldn't stop looking as you soared through the sky, doing impossible stunts, and I remember wishing I could borrow some of that courage. I’m pretty sure you gave him one of his last happy memories…that’s what you do, darling. You bring joy to everyone who comes to the circus, and you don’t need June to do that.”

Alex smiled softly, rosy cheeks and boyish charm, and Henry knew this was the magic his dad always talked about. This is the magic that Arthur had experienced with Catherine—something so special, so precious, that people seek it out their entire lives. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on Alex’s nose, sending him into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, shit,” Alex says, standing up and looking at Henry apologetically. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I forgot to check on you. How are you doing? This is a huge day for you, too.”

“I’m…surprisingly okay,” Henry said, meaning it.

“Are they all coming?”

Henry shrugged. “Philip wrote last week saying he would bring little Margaret, but Martha would stay home with the baby this year. Mum and Bea will be here again, too.”

“And…your grandmother?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t know. Probably not, but it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve got you and most of my family. I’d be a fool to let one person ruin it all for me.”

Alex kissed him, his hands tangling in the back of Henry’s hair. He began to bring his hands to his cheeks, but Henry stopped him.

“Wait, makeup,” he explained, pointing to his own face. “Pezza might murder me if it gets ruined.”

Alex pouted. “I’ll behave only because he did a good job today; the eyeliner looks quite right. You look very handsome.”

“Yeah, I think we’re getting the hang of it,” Henry agreed, and they both laughed, remembering the first few attempts that had ended with Henry going into the ring with smeared Kohl all over his face.

Henry caught Alex’s eye and saw a slight remaining fear in them. “I’ll be here to catch you, Alex.”

“Do you promise?”

“Always.”

The sound of the calliope travelled through the circus, the magical notes announcing their arrival, just like every year. Henry knew the melody would reach his niece, Margaret, any moment now. In a few years, she would associate the sound with perfect days, where mischief and magic permeated the air. She’d hear the music and know that no matter life’s ups and downs, rain or shine, if there’s one thing she could always count on, it’s that ‘Le Cirque des Étoiles’ would be back, year after year. A place she could always call home.