Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a world that turns its back on the misfits and buries brilliance beneath conformity, one man refuses to be silent.

John.

a washed-up showman with nothing left to lose and everything to prove,

decides to build something no one can ignore—

a traveling spectacle that defies the rules,

dazzles the senses,

and gives the overlooked a place to shine.

With silver-tongued charm and a reckless gleam in his eye.

John assembles a crew as wild and extraordinary as his vision:

fire-breathers,

sword-swallowers,

daredevils,

and dreamers.

But none intrigue him more than Smitty—an enigmatic aerialist with a habit of hiding from his Past and Problems. Aloof and fiercely self-reliant,

Smitty has always flown solo—

until John’s circus of chaos begins to feel dangerously like home.

As the troupe barrels from town to town, applause rising and headlines chasing, tensions mount.

Smitty finds himself caught between the thrill of freedom and the shadows of his past—

especially when he crosses paths with Puffer.

Torn between the safety of privilege and the raw lure of rebellion,

Puffer is drawn into the circus's orbit—

and into Smitty's gravity.

Under the glimmering lights of the big top,

where illusion and truth blur,

bonds are tested and masks begin to slip.

Love,

loyalty,

and identity collide in a story

where everyone’s running from something—

but some are brave enough to fly toward what matters.

This is not just a circus.

This is revolution wrapped in glitter.

This is where the outcasts rise.

Chapter Text

The World didn’t make space for dreamers.

It shoved them into dusty corners, slapped labels like “too strange” or “too much” on their backs, and pretended they didn’t exist.

John felt that rejection in his bones—every sideways glance, every whispered “bless his heart” every hollow smile that dripped with pity. But even as a child, whenever the world told him “No”, his mind lit up.

He’d seen the way people turned their heads when something didn’t fit their narrow idea of “normal.” He’d felt it himself—brushing up against expectations, never quite fitting the mold his family, society, or even his past had carved out for him.

He remembered the cold stares. The quiet muttering behind hands.

The pity dressed up as politeness.

But even as a small boy.  

John saw something else.

He saw fire dancers pirouetting in alley shadows,

boys bending their limbs like living rope,

girls singing thunder into the night,

and people whose skin caught the light like fragments of galaxies.

He saw beauty in the odd, magic bursting from raw, untamed Art—and he vowed to drag it onto the biggest stage anyone had ever seen.

And he wanted to give this Art a stage.

To him, the “different” weren’t strange.

They were like Muses waiting to be seen, painted and be admired.

He started with nothing but a battered cheap old notebook of wild ideas and a voice in his head whispering and snarling, “They’ll never believe you.”

But still, he scribbled and scribbled with each new Page came new Ideas.

He just dreamed.

Then Matt came.

His Childhood Friend.

They were inseparable until John had to move for some Family Reason but even so, some years later he moved back on his own wanting to start fresh.

Matt was the Logic to John’s fire, caution to where John was chaos.

But once dismissive. He never laughed at John’s dream.

No. Matt faith felt like a spark in John´s chest. He admired John and his idea of growing up.

To be something bigger than just “normal”, Not once did Matt ever doubt John. He believed. And that belief was a spark.

And with that spark… came the flame.

A Flame that kept growing.

John took every odd and ugly job he could get and snag, worked from sun-up to dead of night, scraped together just enough to rent a rundown warehouse with dust thick enough to choke on it,

to choke on a Dream. But he didn’t care.

No.

He thought it was Perfect.

It was a start.

A Start for something Big.

It was his start.

And now… he was ready to build something no one could ignore.

Not just a circus.

Not just a show.

A revolution draped in glitter, music, art and heart.

A place where the unheard sang louder than kings. Where the broken could fly.

Where the unseen would finally be seen.

The city reeled in smoke and sweat, a roar so loud you couldn’t hear your own heartbeat and too fast to catch your breath.

But John thrives in the noise.

He strode down through the busy streets like he owned them, coat whipping behind him, fire in his step that says he’s planning something big.

He stops in front of a worn-down building, what used to be an old warehouse, now nothing more than rust and forgotten dreams.

John tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

It’s perfect.

The warehouse was dim, lit only by a few dusty beams of sunlight sneaking through the broken windows.

It smelled like old wood and forgotten years, but to John, it was filled with possibility.

“Could use some paint,” he mutters to himself, grinning.

A voice cuts through behind him.

“That wild brain of yours cooking again?”

John turns. There stands Matt, dressed in suspenders and covered in sawdust, dragging a half-broken cart. His old friend, since childhood, both grew up close together. —tired, practical, always cleaning up the messes John leaves behind.

John spreads his arms. “Matthew Wheeler. You look just like you! still hating the fun?”

 An admirable smug on his face.

“And you look like you still owe me fifty bucks.” Matt Replies.

They stare at each other.

Then John breaks into a laugh and throws an arm around his childhood friend’s shoulder. “Come on—got an idea. Need you for the big reveal.”

Matt groaned. “Last time I followed you, we got kicked out of a church.”

“This time’s different,” John insists full confidence shifts in his tone.

“I’m going to build a show. Not just any show—a real one. Lights, music, danger, misfits. I want the world to see the kind of beauty they throw away.”

Matt gives him a long look. “You mean…. people like us?”

John’s grin softens into something more serious. “Exactly.”

Matt sighs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. He’s heard wilder ideas from his friend , and somehow… they always lead somewhere.

Matt stood in the middle of the space, arms crossed, brow raised.

“This is the ‘genius idea’ you wanted me to see?”

John grinned, wild-eyed, a bit breathless.

He did a dramatic spin with his arms out.

“Can you not feel it, Wheeler? This place breathes with potential.”

Matt blinked. “It smells like mildew.”

John ignored him.

“I’m telling you, this—this is where it starts. The show. The dream. Everything.”

Matt sighed and leaned against one of the old support beams.

“John"

"I love you, you know that and I never judged your ideas I always support you no matter what But-… But this just sounds insane.

You want to start a show? With what money? What people? What experience? And even so…”

Matt stops himself his face shifting to something unreadable.

Hurt?

Pain?

Anger?

John couldn’t really tell.

“Even if you somehow mange to create this “dream” of yours what about the People? That sees us as some freaks?”

 John stepped closer, that unshakable spark in his eyes. “We find people like us. People who’ve never had a chance to shine. Misfits, artists, the overlooked. We give them a stage. We build something new, something unforgettable”

Matt raised a brown “That’s your Plan?”

“Exactly.” John’s grin softened into steel.

“The broken, the unseen—they get a stage. They become stars. And anyone who stands in our way”—he leaned so close Matt caught the heat in his grin—

“won’t know what’s coming.”

Matt looked down, then backed up at John. He knew that look — the one that meant John wasn’t going to let this go.

Matt glanced one more time at the empty hall, thinking hard before he sighed looking back at John.

“What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” John said without missing a beat.

“I need someone I trust. Someone who knows how to keep me from doing something stupid—well, too stupid. Or at least share the mess with me”

Matt shook his head, but there was already a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I’ve always been bad at saying no to you.”

“Fine,” Matt finally says.

John’s eyes lit up. “So, you’re in?”

Matt sighs “But if you’re dragging me into this circus dream of yours, we’re doing it right. No half-baked plans.”

John claps him on the back. “Matt, I’ve never half-baked anything in my life.”

Right on Cue a loud crash appears as John’s foot goes through a rotted floorboard inside the warehouse.

“…Right,” Matt deadpans.

But still, he smiles and rolls his eyes as he extends his hand. “Let’s build your damn dream, Keyes.”

After Two weeks have passed. A lot has changed for John.

The warehouse John had rented smelled like sawdust and risk.

Sunlight poured through the broken windows in long, golden shafts, catching dust in the air like glitter in motion.

John was practically vibrating as he gestured at the empty space, passionately describing the future tightrope walkers, fire-breathers, acrobats, lights and music and laughter echoing off the walls.

In those Two weeks the warehouse had transformed. It still had its cracks and shadows, but color had returned.

Fabric draped across old rafters. A makeshift stage stood where old crates used to sit.

Matt had made sketches of costume designs and layouts, muttering about fire safety while John imagined confetti explosions.

“You really think people will pay to see this?” Matt asked, raising a brow finishing the last few touches of his sketch.

John turned, that all-too-familiar grin already spreading across his face.

“Not just pay, Matt—they’ll beg for it. We give them a spectacle, something they’ve never seen before. Fire breathers, contortionists, acrobats. We build a family here. A show.”

Matt gave a low hum, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… if you’re serious about this, I know someone we might want.”

John looked up. “Yeah?”

Matt hesitated.

“My brother.”

A beat passed.

“…Smitty?”

Matt nodded.

“I thought he hated crowds. And people.”

“He does,” Matt said dryly. “But he’s the best aerialist I’ve ever seen. He’ll say no at first, though.”

John smirked. “Then we’ll charm him.”

Matt stood up walking beside him, nodding along with a familiar fondness.

He wasn’t nearly as theatrical as his friend, but his quiet enthusiasm was its own kind of loud.

A day later when John and Matt where back at the warehouse, lots of preparation, discussions and Plans.

The front Door creaked open.

Boots clicked against the wooden floor.

A figure stepped in, hair stark white against his darker clothing, green eyes hidden behind two-toned sunglasses—one blue, one red.

He didn’t look impressed.

“You said you needed help,” Smitty said flatly, eyeing the room with suspicion. “You didn’t say you were building a circus.”

“It’s not a circus,” John grinned, hands spread wide. “It’s the future.”

Smitty raised an eyebrow. “The future of what? Bankruptcy?”

“Smitty,” Matt murmured, stepping forward and nudging his brother lightly in the side.

“Just… hear him out, okay? He’s serious about this. It’s not just a dream. It’s an opportunity.”

Smitty hesitated, arms crossed, lips pressing into a tight line.

He wasn’t the type to leap into things. His walls were high, his trust even harder to earn.

But Matt’s voice was soft with hope, and his eyes said please in the way only a brother could.

After a long moment, Smitty sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay. For now.”

John lit up instantly. “That’s all I ask.”

"If i hate it i will leave"

"That´s Okay" John simply grinned to confidence for his sake.

Smitty didn’t smile, but his stance softened just a little. “But don’t think I’m wearing glitter or tights.”

John paused. his grin growing bigger “We’ll see.”

The following week was chaos—but it was the kind of chaos John loved.

It was an unusually warm afternoon, and John was halfway through sketching another wild Idea of things to do when the doors to the warehouse creaked open with a drawn-out groan.

Dust drifted in the sunbeams, and Matt paused mid-seam pinning, glancing up with one brow raised.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the cavernous space first, slow and sure. Then came a voice—low, smooth, unmistakably.

“Yo. This the place for the freaks and the fabulous?”

Grizzy.

Matt grinned instantly. “Grizzy!”

John stood up with a theatrical spin, arms spread wide. “The one, the only—Grizzmaster General. You’re late!”

“Fashionably,” Grizzy said with a smirk, dropping his duffel with a thud.

He was big. Not just in build, though his shoulders could probably bench-press the entire rigging setup. But in presence.

He had a quiet kind of command that settled into the bones of the room.

A deep voice, warm laugh, and the kind of smile that made you feel safe without knowing why.

Trailing behind him was a blur.

A loud, chaotic blur.

Pezzy somersaulted straight through the tent flap and immediately knocked over two stacked boxes of juggling pins, sending them clattering across the floor.

“I’m here! I’m here!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet and brushing dirt off his shirt. “Where’s the trampoline? The tightrope? The cannon?!”

John blinked. “We don’t have a cannon.”

Pezzy looked personally offended. “Lame.”

“Still building the fundamentals,” Matt muttered.

Hot on Pezzy’s trail, Droid walked in—hood up, a tote bag slung over his shoulder, and an expression that screamed “how have I not lost Pezzy yet again.”

“Sorry,” Droid said flatly, eyeing the mess. “I swear he drank something on the way here I think it was one coffee.”

“It was TWO!” Pezzy corrected proudly, then immediately climbed onto a chair and struck a pose like he was auditioning for Broadway.

John clapped spinning around to look at Matt, delighted. “I love them! They’re hired.”

“We didn’t even say what they’re doing yet,” Matt mumbled.

“Don’t care!” John said, gesturing wildly.

“Grizzy’s clearly our strongman-slash-voice of reason-slash-safety net. Pezzy can flip, fly, and set everything on fire, metaphorically. Droid—”

“Traps and stage mechanics,” Droid said before John could finish he at stared at Pezzy, who was now somehow tangled in hanging silks he wasn’t supposed to touch.

Smitty, perched on a beam up high, just stared at the trio with deadpan curiosity.

“I’m assuming those are your best recruits?” he muttered, his voice carrying effortlessly.

“They’re family,” John said with a shrug. “Loud, chaotic, but damn good.”

“Chaos is an understatement,” Smitty murmured,

watching Pezzy crash into a beanbag and  Droid cheering like he’d just landed a triple axel.

Grizzy looked up at Smitty with an easy smile. “You must be the ghost on the ropes. They said you don’t talk to anyone.”

“I don’t,” Smitty replied dryly.

“Fair enough.” Grizzy said holding his hands up in defense.

After Droid helped Pezzy out of the chaos they made he began setting up his toolkit like he’d been doing it every day for the past decade.

Organized, efficient, head down—but his eyes flicked toward Smitty for a moment, reading him the way one reads blueprints.

Matt passed a bottle of water to Grizzy. “You’re really sticking with us, huh?”

Grizzy shrugged, cracking the seal.

“I like weird people. And you’ve always been good to us. Thought it was time we returned the favor.”

John turned back toward the sketchboard, brimming with ideas again.

“We’re building a stage where no one has to hide anymore. Where different is celebrated. You’re all stars—and this is the start.”

He paused, then turned to face them all with a smirk.

“Now let’s make the world stare.”

The city air hung heavy with coal smoke and ambition.

John adjusted the collar of his coat as he stepped into the upscale lounge, all marble floors and velvet booths, chandeliers glittering like promises overhead.

It was too clean, too silent—a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the practice tent he’d left behind.

He spotted his mark instantly.

Puffer

Lounging at the bar in a tailored burgundy coat, one arm resting lazily over the back of his stool, the other swirling a glass of dark wine. His eyes flicked up, immediately clocking John’s approach—calculating, unreadable, sharp.

John gave his best showman’s smile.

“Mr. Puffer.”

“Keyes”

Puffer said coolly, raising his glass in a silent toast.

“I was wondering when you’d get desperate enough to track me down.”

John chuckled, easing into the seat beside him.

“Desperate? I prefer visionary.”

“You want access to the aristocrats. My name, my contacts.”

Puffer turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing.

“You’re not the first man with sparkle in his eyes to ask me for a shortcut.”

“I’m not offering a shortcut.”

John leaned in.

“I’m offering a revolution.”

That earned a raised brow.

“I’ve built something real,”

John continued.

“Something strange. Something beautiful. You’ve never seen anything like it. But we need reach. We need a seat at the table you’re already in.”

Puffer swirled his wine again.

“Why would I stake my reputation on a circus?”

John’s grin widened.

“Because we’re not a circus. We’re the one place people don’t have to fit in. We make stars out of the unseen. We turn shame into spotlight.”

For a moment,

Puffer didn’t answer. Then he tilted his head.

“I’ll come to one show. Just one. And if it’s just another sad little stage act full of drunk clowns and cheap gasps…”

“You’ll walk,” John said. “I know.”

Puffer smirked. “You’ve got nerve, Keyes. I’ll give you that.”

John just grinned like he just won the biggest prize of his Life.

A Few Days Later…

Puffer stood in the shadows at the back of the tent, arms crossed, unimpressed

—until the show began.

The roar of the crowd, the explosion of music—and then, mid-act, a figure soared through the air.

A blur of white hair, green eyes glinting through dual-colored sunglasses, flipping with graceful, effortless danger before landing in a low crouch, grinning like chaos incarnate.

Smitty.

Puffer blinked, then looked again. T

he way he moved, the way the crowd breathed when he flew.

That wasn’t just talent.

That was fire.

Raw.

Unpolished.

Addictive.

John appeared beside him without looking.

“Still think it’s just a circus?”

Puffer exhaled, watching Smitty leap onto a rope and swing upside down, laughing like he couldn’t be touched.

“Alright,” he said finally.

“I’m in.”

John’s grin was incandescent.

Around him, his found family—

Matt’s sharp mind,

Smitty’s fearless grace,

Grizzy’s steady strength,

Pezzy’s untamed energy,

Droid’s hidden genius

And soon more to Join found Family that will stand right behind him on his wild Journey of Dreams.

All came alive under the tent’s glow.

Above the roar of the crowd,

John’s voice rang out: “

All right, freaks—let’s make history.”

Their revolution had begun.

Chapter Text

The Warehouse was alive with Laughter by the time Puffer arrived.

Grizzy was balancing an old crate while Droid shouted something incoherent from the rafters.

Pezzy was attempting to ride a unicycle backward in circles—barefoot.

Smitty sat cross-legged on a low platform, twirling his Two Missmatched sunglasses in his fingers and rolling his eyes at the noise.

Matt leaned against a beam nearby, watching over him like the overprotective older brother he was.

John stood in the center of it all, arms crossed, grinning proudly at the chaos like it was a well-oiled machine.

Then, the Warehouse Door opened.

He stepped in like he didn’t belong in the dirt. Puffer’s coat was sharp, tailored, dust-free. His shoes were polished.

His presence quieted the room in a heartbeat.

John’s eyes gleamed. “Gentlemen,” he began, “and chaos incarnate—”

“That’s Pezzy,” Droid shouted from above.

“HEY-!”

“Shh!”

“—meet Mr.Chris” John finished smoothly. “Or, as we’ll know him as… Puffer.”

Puffer gave a half-smile, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “So, this is the madness you’re trying to sell to society?”

“No,” John replied, spreading his arms wide, “this is the future no one will see coming! A Family that’s going to change it.”

Pezzy let out a dramatic gasp. “We’re family?! I want cake!”

Smitty muttered, “You just ate a boot-shaped muffin, don’t push it.”

Puffer’s eyes flicked to Smitty as he spoke—white hair, green eyes, dual-colored sunglasses.

Puffer couldn’t hold himself back as curiousty overtook him a bit to fast for his likin.

“And that is…?”

“My little brother,” Matt offered quickly, stepping in. “Smitty.”

Smitty gave a lazy wave, eyes not meeting Puffer’s. “I’m only here because he dragged me.”

Puffer smirked. “Is that how he gets people into this circus?”

“No,” John said, “but it’s how I get the best ones.”

Puffer just stared at John dumbfounded, Matt just patted Puffers shoulder before jogging over to Smitty.

Both wandering off to practice together.

Pezzy zipped across the tent and stopped inches from Puffer. “You look like you smell expensive.”

“…Excuse me?”

Grizzy grabbed Pezzy by the hood. “Ignore him. He´s.. well- Special in his own way”

Droid appeared out of nowhere,next to Puffer whispering in his ear “He licked a paintbrush this morning.”

Puffer chuckled despite himself, then looked around again, letting the warehouse sink in—the warmth of movement, the wildness, the freedom.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned all his attention back to John.

“So where do I fit in?”

John looked at him like he’d been waiting for that.

“You’ve got class Puffer. Elegance."

"A name that turns heads in ballrooms."

"You’re going to help us bring this to the stage. Not just the street.”

Puffer looked around again, taking a moment to progess John´s words.

His eyes landed on Smitty who was currently swinging towards Matt mid air. His gaze stayed for a second too long.

“…Alright,”

he said, facing John once again who looked at him with a patient expression on his face but Puffer himself knew that John would burst any seconds now if he didn't get an answer from him right away.

 “When do we start?”

John smile grew so big People would believe he was a Maniac or something.

"Oh boy..." was the only thought Puffer had.

Inside the Warehouse — later that day —

The Warehouse roared with energy.

And just like that, another piece of the circus fell into place.

Puffer stayed near the edge of the chaos for a while.

He watched as Droid and Pezzy attempted to launch themselves from opposite trampolines into the same hula hoop.

They missed. Loudly.

Twice.

Grizzy sighed and casually caught a crashing Droid mid-fall like it was routine.

Pezzy rolled away laughing, shouting something about physics being a myth.

John stood at the center, shouting encouragements and half-orders like a conductor with no orchestra.

Matt was sketching costume ideas off to the side, glancing up every few seconds to make sure Smitty hadn’t wandered off or set something on fire.

Smitty was there, but distant—legs dangling from the platform, sunglasses down, earphones in.

Puffer took a breath.

 Right.

Integrate.

Blend.

Don’t scare them off.

He moved toward Grizzy first—big, calm, someone who seemed like the unofficial glue of the group.

“You catch flying idiots a lot, or is today special?”

Puffer wanted to slap himself immediately after saying that.

Grizzy cracked a smile. “Every day’s special with them. I’m Grizzy. I believe I didn´t introdouced myself earlier!”

“Puffer,” he said, shaking his hand. “I admire your composure.”

“I admire your coat,” Grizzy replied. “No way that thing survives a week here.”

They both chuckled.

Next came Pezzy, who ran up before Puffer could approach. “Can I touch your hair?”

What..-?

“…Pardon?”

Puffer looked at Pezzy dumbfounded

“It just looks like it costs money. Like a shampoo ad but real-life.”

Puffer blinked. “I—suppose? Gently.”

Pezzy immediately poked the side of Puffer’s head and then dashed away like he had just won a prize.

Droid jogged up next, out of breath.

“Hi! I’m Droid. He’s Pezzy. Together we’re the human version of a tornado with sugar addiction.”

Puffer hesitated, then smiled. “I can see that.”

Droid leaned closer. “Hey. If you ever wanna escape, just yell ‘pineapple’ and I’ll start a distraction.”

Puffer nodded seriously. “I’ll remember that.”

They exchanged a fist bump.

Well...Kind of.

Droid missed.

On purpose obviously.

John passed by, grinning. “So? How’s it feel, rich boy?”

“Chaotic,” Puffer said truthfully.

“But… not in a bad way.”

“You’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’re here.”

Puffer turned his gaze towards Matt who noticed his gaze and just gave him a short nod from across the space, before turning his attention back to Smitty who moved from his spot to do some stretches not looking at them nor giving any of his attention to his surroundings besides himself and sometimes Matt.

Puffer followed his gaze.

The white-haired boy stayed where he was, back to the noise, sunglasses hiding any thought behind them.

There was distance there—intentional, deliberate.

Puffer didn’t approach.

But he wanted to

But he had to wait

It wasn’t the time

Not yet.

Instead, he joined Grizzy again and helped steady a ladder that didn´t looked safe at all and Droid was climbing with far too much confidence.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Almost Perfect for Puffer.

Something was just missing

For now.

Somewhere around mid Afternoon,

Puffer had barely settled onto a crate near the ring when a beanbag hit him square in the side of the head.

“Hey!” he snapped, spinning around.

Pezzy waved innocently from the other end of the tent. “My bad! Practicing my throw!”

“You weren’t even looking at me.”

“I was practicing my luck.”

Before Puffer could fire back, Droid came skidding into view, socks on polished wood, nearly knocking over a whole prop table.

“DID SOMEONE SAY ‘LUCK’?”

Grizzy, already behind him, caught the falling table without even blinking.

“Droid. Pezzy. Please.”

Puffer blinked as the whirlwind of limbs and chaos bounced between practice mats. “Is this… every day?”

Grizzy just smiled, folding his arms. “This is them behaving.”

“God help me,” Puffer muttered.

Pezzy plopped down beside him uninvited, grinning like they were old friends. “You still look like you’re deciding if you love us or want to file a restraining order.”

“Why not both?” Puffer deadpanned.

Grizzy snorted from the sidelines, now watching Droid try to balance a feather on his nose while walking a tightrope five feet off the ground.

“Watch this!” Droid shouted. “Call me Acrobat Supreme!”

He immediately lost balance.

“Oh.”

Grizzy caught him. Again.

Puffer turned to Grizzy. “Do you always catch him?”

Grizzy shrugged. “Only when I’m close. Sometimes Pezzy tries. That ends worse.”

“Hey!” Pezzy huffed. “I tried. That one time!”

“You dropped him into the cotton candy machine.”

“Delicious and dramatic.”

Puffer bit down a laugh despite himself. “You guys… really are something.”

“You could say we are…Something loud-” Grizzy replied,shrugging before clapping Droid’s shoulder as he stumbled upright again.

“Bro Droid- Please-“

“SORRY SORRY-“ Droid held his hands up in defense before somehow turning more serious towards Puffer.

Droid beamed and held out a hand to Puffer. “You’re alright, y’know. You don’t look it—but you’re cool.”

Puffer blinked, then cautiously took the handshake. “Thanks, I guess-?”

Pezzy leaned into his side. “If you’re sticking around, you’re stuck with us now. Just a heads-up. No take-backs.”

Puffer raised a brow. “I don’t remember signing anything.”

“Oh, you did. In vibe,” Pezzy grinned, then immediately tried to poke Puffer’s side.

Grizzy whistled. “Okay, leave the poor guy alone. You’re going to scare him into retirement.”

“He needs to learn!” Pezzy laughed. “If he can’t handle us, how’s he gonna handle a packed tent and half the freaks we haven’t hired yet?”

Puffer, still slightly overwhelmed but now undeniably amused, exhaled a short laugh and stood up.

“I’ll handle it,” he said, eyes flicking toward Smitty’s direction just once and short. “Somehow.”

“Good,” Grizzy nodded. “Because this place runs on chaos. And coffee."

A Pause. 

"But mostly chaos.”

“AND FEATHERS,” Droid yelled, tossing a feather in the air dramatically before slipping again.

This time he hit a pile of cushions and yelled, “Ten outta ten!”

Puffer ran a hand through his hair and looked at Grizzy. “I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Grizzy grinned. “Neither did we. Welcome to the circus, man.”

Just outside the Warehouse in the late afternoon

The sun dipped low, casting warm gold over the circus camp.

Performers milled about, props were being packed up, and the smell of sawdust clung to the air.

Puffer stood near the edge of the Warehouse, leaning against a support beam, watching everything around him in a blur of motion.

All his attention was turned on someone else.

His eyes were locked on Smitty.

The white-haired acrobat sat alone near the rigging ropes, sunglasses still on, polishing a set of gleaming silver rings.

He hadn’t said much since Puffer arrived.

Not a greeting.

Not a glance.

Not even a nod.

Every attempt at eye contact had been met with a cold shoulder or a sharp pivot.

Still, Puffer wasn’t exactly the type to give up.

He pushed off the beam and started walking.

But just as he got within five feet, Matt popped up—quite literally, from beneath the platform where he’d been checking bolts.

Grease smudged his jaw and his sleeves were rolled up. He spotted Puffer and smiled, waving a wrench.

“Yo! You look like you’re about to either confess something or get decked.”

Puffer blinked. “Little bit of both, maybe.”

Matt chuckled, stepping out from under the platform and wiping his hands on a rag. “Trying to talk to him?”

“Trying,” Puffer muttered, glancing back to Smitty—only to find the spot empty.

Smitty had already disappeared back into the warehouse shadows again.

“But Failing…”

He sighed.

Matt didn’t seem surprised. He leaned next to him on the platform edge, letting out a low whistle.

“Yeah, that’s Smitty. He’s like… a cat. Except if the cat had knives and abandonment issues.”

Puffer snorted. “that´s one way to describe him.”

“Don’t take it personal,”

Matt said, tossing the rag aside.

“He was raised solo. Literally. We grew up in the same hellhole of a system, but he got the worst of it."

"Took care of himself."

"Protected himself."

"Didn’t let anyone in."

Still doesn’t.”

“You’re his brother?”

“Adoptive. Chosen. Call it what you want.” Matt shrugged. “He’s stubborn, guarded, paranoid—but loyal as hell if you ever get close enough.”

Puffer nodded slowly. “So I keep trying?”

Matt gave him a half-smile. “Depends. You planning to stay?”

There was a pause. The sounds of laughter and practice in the background. Pezzy’s voice shouting something incomprehensible.

Droid crashing into a stack of crates.

“…Yeah,” Puffer said after a beat. “I think I am.”

Matt nodded, then clapped his shoulder. “Then yeah. Try. Just—don’t rush him. He doesn’t react well to pressure.”

“Noted,” Puffer said, rubbing the back of his neck. Suddenly all his confidence disapering into thin air.

“Play the long game,” Matt shrugged while a grin was spread across his face.

“You’ll get a word out of him eventually.”

They both laughed, and for a moment the tension eased.

But Puffer’s gaze drifted back to the warehouse, where Smitty had vanished like a ghost.

He’d get through to him. Somehow.

Even if it meant being patient.

Even if that wasn´t really his strenght--

But he would try.

Even if it meant breaking through the walls one piece at a time.

A while Later almost Midnight there he was.

Waiting.

Puffer waited.

He leaned against one of the poles holding up the side of the main tent, arms crossed, boots tapping idly against the dirt.

The others were still laughing inside—

Pezzy and Droid had started some absurd improv act with Grizzy egging them on.

But Puffer wasn’t focused on that.

He watched as Smitty emerged from behind the prop cart, carrying a rope coil and a set of rigging clips, still in his performance gear, the silver lines on his white with a hint of dark blue and red colored outfit catching the low light like starlight.

Okay Puffer...

Now or never.

Puffer stepped forward. “Hey.”

Smitty didn’t stop walking.

Puffer followed, lightly. “Look, I just wanted to talk. I feel like we got off on the wrong—”

“You feel wrong,” Smitty interrupted sharply, not even turning his head.

That stopped Puffer in his tracks for a second. But he pushed through.

“Okay-. But! I’m trying here, Hey-?! Wait! I’m not looking to step on your toes, or take your space, or whatever it is you think I’m doing. I just want to understand you a little.”

Smitty turned.

Slowly.

His sunglasses were taken off for once, hooked into the front of his shirt, and those two Green shiny eyes locked onto Puffer like a blade drawn from a sheath.

Piercing emerald eyes staring at him, tired and furious.

“Understand me?” he echoed, voice low. “Why would you want to do that?”

Puffer blinked. “Because I—”

"Because you never know when to shut up, do you?"

Smitty exploded, his voice escalating from mere irritation to sheer fury.

"Every single time I'm around, it's like you have this compulsive need to say something, to try and 'fix' me, or mold me into one of your little followers. You want admiration? Spare me the lecture—I'm not interested!"

Puffer stiffened. “That’s not what I—What do you mean with “fix” you Wha-”

“I don’t need fixing,” Smitty spat, interuppting Puffer completely as he stepped closer.

“I’ve made it this far alone, I don’t need some rich boy circus prince deciding I’m a pet project.”

“Jesus,” Puffer muttered, backing up a little. “I was just trying to— You´re Missunderstanding-!”

“Don’t try,” Smitty hissed. “Just leave me alone. That’s all I ever wanted. And if Matt wants to hang around you, fine. But don’t pretend like you belong in my orbit.In my Space. In my Life. You don’t.”

And with that, Smitty shoved past him hard, shoulder colliding into Puffer’s chest, and vanished again behind the tent ropes, swallowed up by the dark.

Puffer stood there,

stunned.

He could still feel the chill of those piercing emerald eyes, could still hear the venom behind the words.

For the first time since joining the show, he didn’t have a retort.

Just the dull ache of something personal hitting deeper than he expected.

As seconds turned to minutes,

Puffer just stood still.

His arms had dropped to his sides, hands slightly curled, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit something or hold on to something that wasn’t there.

The noise of the circus was faint now — laughter, music, stomping feet on wooden boards —

all distant compared to the roaring silence inside his own head.

He replayed the moment. The words.

“Don’t pretend like you belong in my orbit. In my Space.”

“In my Life.“

“You don’t.”

That stung more than he liked to admit.

He had only wanted to understand. To connect.

Was that so hard to believe?

Puffer exhaled slowly, leaning back against one of the support beams, eyes raised to the slivers of light peeking through the tent seams above.

“What the hell happened to you?” he muttered to himself, but the words weren’t angry. They were quiet. Curious. Almost…

hurt.

He wasn’t used to being shut down like that. Not with that kind of heat.

Most people laughed with him, or brushed him off, or at least gave him a smirk and a half-joke in return.

 Smitty was different. And not in the “mysterious, cool loner” kind of way.

 No, this was something else — deep. Defensive. Raw.

And it gnawed at Puffer.

“I’ve made it this far alone.”

Why? Why did that sound like it was more than just a preference? Like it was a shield he’d had to build, layer by layer?

Puffer dragged a hand through his hair. “You really think I’m just some rich brat who wants to fix you?” he asked the empty space around him,

lips twitching into a dry smile.

He wasn’t even sure if he was asking that question to Smitty or himself anymore.

And the worst part? He didn’t even feel angry. He just felt… something deeper.

That man had walls.

And now, Puffer kind of wanted to know what lived behind them.

Suddenly a voice appeared behind him.

John.

“Figured I’d find you here why are you sulking like a dramatic event just happen” came John’s voice —

half a tease, half concern.

Puffer didn’t look at him right away.

He just let out a low breath through his nose and tilted his head up to the sky, eyes distant.

John stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his long coat. “You alright?”

“No,” Puffer admitted.

“Not really.”

John blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “Damn. Thought you’d at least give me a sarcastic comment of yours” John huffed.

“I usually would.” Puffer rubbed at the back of his neck. “Guess I’m not in the mood.”

Puffer shrugged, unsure what to say at all.

His mind was far to gone to do anything at the moment.

John gave a hum and leaned beside him against the wooden pole.

A long pause passed between them —

the kind only close friends could have without it being awkward.

“I tried talking to Smitty,”

Puffer said finally, low.

“And?”

“He basically said I don’t belong in his world.”

John winced slightly, the expression quick but sharp. “Yeah… sounds like Smitty.”

Puffer finally looked at him. “You expected that?”

“I’d be more shocked if he let you in right away.”

John shrugged, his voice a little quieter. His Gaze turned towards the Sky watching the Stars sparkling through the Night.

“He’s built like a maze with barbed wire. Sharp corners. Mistrusting. Always on edge.”

Puffer just starred at John deadpanned “I noticed. Thanks-”

“He grew up alone, Puff,” John added.

“Didn’t just work alone — lived it. He got used to fighting for everything. Trust isn’t just hard for him. It’s dangerous.”

Puffer stared at the ground. “Why does it bother me so much?”

John gave a small grin. “Because you’re not used to someone not falling for your charm?”

“Maybe,” Puffer admitted with a tired smirk. “But it’s more than that.”

John gave him a look, knowing. “You saw something in him.”

Puffer’s jaw clenched.

“Yeah....”

“You’re not the first to try and break past those walls.” John’s voice was a little softer now.

“But maybe… you’re the first one who’s willing to stand there and wait. No kicking doors in. No clever lines. Just… wait.”

“And if he never opens them?”

“Then he won’t,” John said, simple and honest. “But if he does… it’s worth it.”

Puffer was quiet again. Then he just spoke his mind out loud, without thinking.

 “He has beautiful eyes.”

John blinked, then grinned. “Yeah, well. If you tell him that too soon, he might punch you in the face.”

Puffer grimaced.

“geez- noted.”

John clapped a hand on his shoulder, grounding. “Come back in. We’re doing some weird trust fall activity and I need someone tall enough to catch Matt.”

Puffer snorted. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

John nodded, heading back toward the warehouse.

Puffer looked up again.

Walls or not, he wasn’t done trying.

Not yet and not anytime soon.

The heavy fabric of the warehouse was muffled for the outside world, but Smitty still heard faint laughter from the others —

Grizzy probably teasing Pezzy again,

Droid yelling something weirdly in return.

It should’ve been comforting.

But-Instead, it made the silence around him feel louder.

He sat on his cot, his sunglasses were still off , rubbing at his temples. His green eyes —Those vibrant emerald eyes— were distant, strained.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the frames oh his sunglasses, the familiar tension back in his shoulders.

Why did he say all that?

Puffer hadn’t deserved it — not really.

He’d only tried to be nice, to talk.

But the moment he got too close, Smitty had bristled like a cornered animal.

“You don’t belong in my world.”

The words echoed back at him.

Sharp.

Cold.

Unfair.

“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so stupid, Smitty.”

Matt had tried to warn him — gently, like he always did — that not everyone was out to use him or leave him.

That some people, maybe, just wanted to stay.

But years of walking alone were hard to unlearn.

Smitty had built high walls and lived behind them for so long that even the idea of someone trying to climb over them felt like an attack.

And Puffer…

he was persistent.

Stupidly gentle in all the ways Smitty hated because it made him feel.

It made him wonder what it’d be like to not always be so on guard.

He scratched at his arm again, not even noticing until the sleeve slipped slightly and he saw the irritated marks.

His hand paused.

“Damn it,” he whispered.

There was a knock on the outer post of the warehouse.

Smitty jolted like someone had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. “What?”

Matt’s head popped up his voice came through, soft. “We’re gonna do a run-through. You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he called back.

His voice cracked slightly.

“Okay.”

A pause.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Smitty hesitated. His fingers tightened on the sunglasses.

“I’m good.”

The quiet lingered a second longer before Matt’s footsteps padded away.

Smitty finally stood.

He slipped the glasses back on, red and blue lens glinting faintly in the lamplight.

His armor.

His shield.

If he ever saw Puffer again, he told himself, he’d just ignore him.

He refused to dwell on how unnervingly kind his voice had sounded,

 a voice that seemed to wrap around him like a comforting embrace.

 Or the intense warmth in his eyes,

which pierced through his defenses with unsettling clarity.

 Or how a fragment of his guarded soul—

Just a small, vulnerable piece—

had desperately wanted to believe Matt's promises about people actually staying.

But Smitty wasn't prepared to surrender to that fragile hope

 just yet.

Chapter Text

The streets outside the Warehouse was normally quiet.

They performed their shows regularly and were heard by people who even loved their shows.

But under those People were also many that hated them by their guts…

It started small.

a crowd gathered.

Just a few people, standing across the road from the main tent.

Holding signs.

Whispering disgusting things about them.

Their eyes sharp, filled with judgment. The paper signs read things like:

“This isn’t entertainment. It’s a mockery.”

“Keep the monsters off our streets.”

“You’re Freaks don´t Belong here.”

John stood just inside the Warehouse looking out of the Window, staring out at them.

His hands were tight behind his back, jaw clenched.

He had expected resistance. But seeing it?

Feeling it in the way people recoiled from his performers on the street, in the way shopkeepers suddenly closed early when Pezzy or Droid walked by?

That was different.

Behind him, Grizzy and Pezzy watched from a distance.

Pezzy scowled, arms crossed. “We should throw eggs at them.”

Grizzy gave him a look. “That’s the exact thing they’d expect.”

Droid, hanging upside down from a silk loop tied to the rigging beam, blinked.

 “Can we do it anyway but in disguise?”

Matt came in next, followed by Smitty — who immediately noticed the mood. He pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, frowning.

 “What happened?”

John didn’t answer right away.

Then he turned to the group his knuckles turning white with the way his hands curled even more into a fist.

He took a deep breath.

“They’re protesting. Saying we don’t belong.”

Matt stepped up beside him. “You knew it might come to this.”

“I did. Doesn’t mean it’s easier to stomach.”

Smitty’s jaw tensed. “Let them protest. We don’t owe them our silence.”

He brushed past the others, heading for the practice area, just in the moment when Puffer walked in, he caught sight of him.

“Smitty—”

“Not now.” Sharp and Cold.

Puffer didn’t push. But his brows furrowed in concern.

Everyone else just went into their own perspective side, The Situation clearly effecting them in their own way.

A little Later, when everything quieted down a bit and the Protester no where in sight.

The group gathered again after rehearsal — But the tension still heavy like a stormy cloud.

“We knew this wasn’t gonna be easy,” John said, pacing around.

“But I want you to hear me when I say.”

He finally stopped and locked at everyone glazing at each faces atleast one time.

“They don’t get to tell us who we are. They don’t get to shame us back into the shadows.”

“We’re not hiding,” Grizzy added firmly.

Pezzy, leaning against Droid’s shoulder, smirked. “Let ’em talk. We’ll keep being awesome.” Droid gave Pezzy a Highfive, Matt nodded along.

But Smitty?

Smitty stayed quiet.

Sitting on the edge of the stage platform, sunglasses still on despite the low light. He didn’t speak, but his leg bounced anxiously.

Puffer’s eyes flicked to him again. There was something in Smitty’s silence Puffer could tell but at the same time he couldn´t

It was — not fear, but a deeply buried ache.

He’d seen it before.

The kind of pain that came from believing something that might be right.

Puffer didn’t say anything. But he made a quiet promise to himself.

He wasn’t going to let Smitty face this alone — whether he liked it or not.

After their little Group Meeting, the stars were shining brightly in the dark sky,

the late night breeze was cold, shivering on the skin

It was quiet.

Too quiet,

for a place that was usually humming with aftershow energy, with laughter and lingering footsteps in the grass.

But the group had taken the evening off — John had called for it after the weight of the protests grew heavier.

Windows were shut, lights dimmed. Only a few stage props remained scattered around, forgotten in the sudden decision to rest.

Smitty stood alone near the edge of the field, arms crossed as he looked up at the stars. He’d been out there longer than he planned — maybe hoping the cold would chase off the thoughts.

He didn’t hear the footsteps right away.

Steps.

Many Footsteps.

“Hey,” a sharp voice behind him said. “Aren´t You one of them?”

Smitty turned, expression unreadable behind his red-and-blue glasses. Three men stood there.

Simple Plain clothes, but Smitty already could tell by their body language that they just screamed trouble.

One of them held a splintered protest sign.

 The other was holding something which looked like — a empty beer bottle in one hand, a lighter in the other.

Smitty didn’t move. “Leave.”

They didn’t.

“You all think you’re better than the rest of us? With your freakshow tricks and lies?” the leader Smitty guessed spat.

“I said Leave.”

They indeed didn´t Leave, Instead

They lunged.

Smitty moved to dodge — fast, practiced — but the third had come around from the side, grabbing a fistfull of his hair and slamming him to the ground. The sunglasses flew off his face and skittered into the dirt.

“Holy Shit-!,” one whispered in shock. “His Eyes!?”

One of the men, Smitty, firmly believed that he was the leader of this small amature group, just grinned so broadly disgustingly towards Smitty.

"You have.."

 "beautiful eyes, so beautiful..."

"It's almost a tragedy that a freak like you possesses such eyes."

His grin stretched menacingly,Something dangerous danced in his eyes.

"It would be... a crime... to waste such eyes on a face like yours..."

The third man yanked a pocketknife from his trouser pocket and moved toward Smitty. 

Each step was a fierce battle in Smitty eyes.

"I'm sure your eyes will fetch us a fortune," he said, though his voice trembled with Greed.

Smitty's eyes widened, caught in the grip of terror and the desperate urge to plead, but the man above him held him brutally by the hair, forcing his face into the dirt.

A moment of tense silence, then a vicious stomp on Smitty's back, forcing the air from his lungs with a choked gasp.

The leader knelt beside Smitty, clutching his jaw with a vice-like grip and bruising force.

“I´ts better not to Scream you Freak-“

Before Smitty could answer give one last Retort to that disgusting man—

before he could even accept the fate he was bound to—

a roar cracked through the air.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Grizzy came charging first, fury in every stride. He tackled the Leader clean off Smitty, sending them both to the ground. Pezzy was right behind, a blur of chaos and flailing arms.

Droid arrived a bit late but threw himself into the mix with a wild yell and a half-flipped cartwheel that somehow turned into a punch. “Did you seriously dare to touch him? Are you stupid?! I will Body slam you into the Hospital bed Buddy!”

Puffer was right behind them all.

No hesitation, no thought — just fists and anger.

He grabbed the guy who had Smitty still slammed down on the ground and threw him off, landing a punch to the stomach that sent him stumbling.

“You okay?” Puffer asked, crouching beside Smitty.

Smitty, a little dazed but already trying to stand with such a stuborness, muttered,

“I had it handled.”

“You didn’t,” Puffer scoffed, pulling him upoffering him a hand for support and dragging him behind his back like a shield.

John and Matt finally came running from the Warehouse, Hearing all the comotion and catching the tail end of the brawl.

 John’s voice boomed, commanding the scene like a storm.

“ENOUGH!”

The Leader of the Trio groaned taking one look at the group before scoffing— he was bruised but his eyes were blazing with fury— he growled before he quickly ran.

The others scrambled to follow.

Smitty staggered, wiping blood from his lip, face flushed from both the impact and the eyes now locked on his —Green Eyes in full display.

He made a motion for his glasses, but Puffer caught his hand.

“Don’t.”

Smitty froze.

Puffer’s voice was quiet. “Let them see you.”

The others were quiet. Pezzy picked up the cracked sunglasses staring at them before he walked over to smitty handing them back gently smiling softly at Smitty.

Smitty just stood there stiff his Shoulders were tense with unease but he returned Pezzys smile with his own little smile.

 Droid looked like he was vibrating with adrenaline.

Grizzy cracked his knuckles. “We should’ve have given them a bigger Messages, not to mess with us”

“YEAH-!” Droid and Pezzy highfived eachother.

Smitty stared at them. All of them — breathless, scraped up, but alive.

They were Fighting

Fighting for him.

He slipped the glasses into his pocket and finally murmured, “…Thanks.”

Puffer just said, “Next time you come out alone, I’m following.”

Smitty didn’t argue.

He let out a small huff which sounded if you would have listen more closely like a small Laugh.

Late that Nigh the sounds of cleaning up drifted in from outside — shuffling feet, hushed voices, the occasional clatter of something being put back into place.

Most of the group had gone back out to help, to cool off, to breathe.

Smitty couldn't decide what was more frustrating.

Being searched by Matt for the 89th time, the possibility of another unnoticed injury, or a persistent puffer who, much like a duckling trailing its mother, now refused to leave Smitty's side.

Currently Puffer was kneeled down on the floor infront of Smitty.

He and Smitty wandered off to Smitty´s cloakroom room after everyone went into their own perspective world.

He was sitting on the floor leaned against one of the support poles with a bag of ice pressed to his bruised knuckles.

The canvas was lit softly by a nearby lantern, casting warm light over the space — over scattered clothes, some old tools, and the unmistakable shape of Smitty’s sunglasses resting on a crate.

Puffer sat across from him, Smitty was quiet but he hadn’t put the glasses back on.

His white hair hung widely loose, green eyes shadowed in the dim Light— tired, but alert.

Puffer looked at him. Really looked at him. “You scare the hell outta me sometimes.”

Smitty blinked. “What, because of my eyes?”

“No,” Puffer said, voice low. “Because you keep pretending you don’t need anyone.”

Smitty turned his gaze away, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’ve always worked alone. It’s easier.”

“Until your laying bleeding in the grass.”

“I was fine.”

“You weren’t,” Puffer shot back. “And you know that exactly”

Silence.

The rain had started again — soft pattering on canvas, distant thunder rumbling like the echo of the fight.

Puffer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You know what scared me more than those bastards out there?"

"That you wouldn’t let us help. That you’d rather take it alone than let someone care.”

Smitty’s throat bobbed, eyes flicking back to Puffer. “Why do you care so much? You don’t even like me.”

“That’s not true.”

He met Smitty’s gaze

Smitty blinked again, slower this time.

There was something cracking in him. Not breaking — just loosening.

Like he’d been wound tight too long.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” he finally whispered.

Puffer stared at him for a long Time.

He didn’t touch him, not yet — just hovered close enough that Smitty could feel the heat of him.

“But you’re part of it now,” Puffer said softly. “Whether you like it or not. And we don’t leave our own behind.”

Smitty’s breath hitched.

A tremble passed through his fingers. Not fear. Not pain. Just feeling — all at once, all too much.

Puffer saw it.

Without a word, he gently took Smitty’s wrist.

His thumb brushed the old scratches along his arm — the ones he’d seen too many times now even when Smitty thought no one saw the, but Puffer did — he brought his hand to rest against his own chest.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Puffer said.

Smitty’s lips parted slightly, eyes glassy. “Why do you care so much?”

Puffer smiled, it was faint but filled with such honesty. “Because I’ve seen what you are underneath all that armor. And it’s worth protecting.”

Something broke inside of him.

Smitty leaned forward suddenly, pressing his forehead to Puffer’s shoulder — it was not a hug, not quite — but the closest he’d ever gotten from Smitty.

Puffer didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just let him sit there, breathing heavy, lashes wet.

And Smitty didn’t pull away.

A few days after the incident, the city felt unusually quiet.

The streets were slick from the recent rain, and golden sunlight streamed through the drifting clouds.

Puffer walked alongside Smitty, hands tucked into his coat pockets, occasionally sneaking glances at him.

Smitty still had his signature sunglasses on — red on the left, blue on the right — and his white hair tucked under a cap. But even then, he stood out.

Something about him always did.

Still, he looked… lighter.

Less guarded.

Puffer had started to earn more than one-word answers, had even gotten a sarcastic smirk or two earlier that morning.

It felt good.

“So, hypothetically,” Puffer said, keeping his tone casual, “if I invited you out again, maybe somewhere less rainy next time, would you–?”

“I’d think about it,” Smitty said. But the corners of his mouth twitched.

That was something.

Puffer grinned to himself.

But the moment didn't last long.

it would have been too good to be true

just as he was about to reply, a voice rang out from across the street.

“Hey! Ain’t that the fancy boy from the freak show?”

Puffer froze.

Smitty’s posture went rigid beside him.

Two men were standing on the corner — one pointing, the other snickering.

More people turned.

 A woman near the bakery window whispered to her friend, who frowned and looked at Smitty like he’d done something wrong.

“Disgusting what they let walk around these days,” someone muttered loud enough to hear.

“Bet that one’s the animal,” another scoffed, pointing directly at Smitty. “You can see it in his freaky eyes.”

Puffer stepped forward, fury bubbling in his chest.

“Say that again,” he growled.

But Smitty didn’t wait.

He turned sharply on his heel and bolted.

“Shit– Smitty!” Puffer spun after him, but the crowd was swelling, faces blurring together, some shouting more insults, others just watching.

Smitty ran — through puddles and market stalls and alley shadows.

 He didn’t stop.

 He couldn’t.

His lungs burned.

His vision blurred.

It didn’t matter how much softer he’d become.

 It didn’t matter how much Puffer tried.

The world still saw a freak.

The rain had slowed to a mist. City lights flickered below as the fog clung to the buildings.

Smitty stood alone on the edge of the rooftop, finally coming to a stop, his arms crossed tightly, glasses back on.

Puffer had followed in silence, it took him a while but he found him.

 He didn’t say anything at first — just stood a few feet away, watching the way Smitty’s white hair ruffled in the wind.

Smitty finally spoke. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“I had to.”

“No” Smitty snapped. “You chose to. That’s your problem.”

Puffer took a slow step forward. “My problem is I can’t watch you keep doing this alone.”

Smitty turned to him, jaw clenched.

“I’m used to alone, Puffer. That’s what people like me are born into. People don’t want us — not on the street, not in the city, not in their lives!”

“You think I don’t know that feeling?” Puffer’s voice cracked.

 “I’ve spent years pretending to be someone people would accept. They come at me for my Money not For me. You think you’re the only one scared of being hated? To be pushed away?”

Smitty’s fists clenched.

“Then why are you still here?! Why do you keep coming after me like I’m something you can fix?!”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” Puffer stated. “I’m trying to stay.”

Silence.

Then — music, soft and distant, from a nearby rooftop violinist playing to the empty air. Almost like fate had cued it.

Puffer stepped closer again. “What if we could rewrite it?”

Smitty stared at him.

“The world says we’re not supposed to be anything,” Puffer continued, voice low, eyes locked on him.

“But what if we don’t care what it says?”

He reached out. Slowly.

Not grabbing — just offering.

Puffer voice rang through his Ear. Like a soft melody.

"You think it’s easy…?"

"You think I’m blind.."

"But I see the storm you try to hide behind"

"And I would trade the stars above"

"To just be someone you could trust."

Smitty’s fingers twitched.

He spun around, his back turned to Puffer.

His Voice was barely a Whisper.

"You say we can rewrite the stars?"

"But I’ve seen the sky fall apart-"

"They’ll never let us just be free…"

"They’ll tear us down before we start."

He turned his Head slightly to the side.

his gaze was directed at the ground but slowly they slid upwards to look him in the eyes.

Puffer took a step forward his voice was firm.

"Then let them try"

"Because I’m still here"

"And I’d rather fight than disappear."

And without thinking — without asking, he was inches away from him, — he took Smitty’s hand.

Smitty flinched.

But didn’t pull away.

Their eyes locked.

Smitty’s glasses slipped down slightly, revealing those bright emerald eyes again that Puffer loved so much — vulnerable and glassy.

Smitty exhaled shakily, blinking fast. “I don’t know how to let someone… choose me.”

Puffer smiled gently. “Then let me Help you…”

Smitty’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling like he’d been running from something for too long. His grip on Puffer’s hand tightened — hesitant, but there.

Still unsure, still afraid.

“I’m not good at this,” Smitty murmured, his voice strained. “Letting people in… letting you in.”

“I know,” Puffer said softly. “You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to want to try.”

For a second, the rooftop was silent again — the mist catching the faint light, curling around them like the world was holding its breath.

Then — Smitty moved.

Not away.

Toward.

His sunglasses dropped fully, hanging from the edge of his collar, revealing the striking Green vibrant eyes completely, shimmering through the night, and locked on Puffer with a vulnerability that made time stop.

“You’re… staring,” Smitty muttered.

“I can’t help it,” Puffer breathed. “They’re beautiful.”

Smitty flushed deep crimson. “You’re insane.”

“I might be. But I’m not wrong.”

He leaned in slowly — giving him space to move, to run, to change his mind.

He blinked up at Puffer, breath shaky.

“…What are you doing to me?” he whispered, more accusation than question.

Puffer stopped his movement, instead he leaned his forehead against Smitty’s.

“I’m rewriting the stars,” he whispered back, “and dragging you with me if I have to.”

Smitty choked on a laugh — half a sob, half disbelief.

And he didn’t let go.

As The rooftop lights shimmered off the city skyline,

Smitty wasn’t thinking about the people below.

The judgment.

The fear.

The whispers.

Puffer grinned at him, breathless but eager, tugging Smitty toward the suspended silks that fluttered in the evening breeze.

“Come on,” he said, playful now, his voice warm like fire in winter.

“Bet you can’t beat me in a swing jump.”

Smitty’s brow arched, skeptical. “Puffer, I’m an aerialist. I literally do that.”

“Then prove it, Milkboy.” Puffer smirked.

Smitty just stood at the edge of the building, eyes catching the gleam of moonlight against the metal pipe Puffer had rigged between two old antenna towers.

“You’re actually serious about this?” he asked, arms folded, but a smirk tugging at his lips.

Puffer grinned, already climbing the short ladder he’d secured.

“You said you liked dramatic entrances. I deliver.”

The beam flexed slightly under his weight, but held firm.

A long rope, knotted and worn like it had seen too many summers, hung from the center.

Puffer grabbed it and swung once — wide and slow — before coming back toward the platform.

“Your turn, aerial prince.”

Smitty huffed, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away.

 He took off his jacket, cracked his knuckles, and ran.

 His boots thudded on the concrete as he launched — catching the rope mid-arc.

The force pulled him upward, hair catching in the wind as the city spun beneath him.

Puffer met him at the peak of the swing, reaching out.

Their fingers brushed.

It took three tries. On the fourth, they caught.

And suddenly, they were no longer bound by gravity.

 Puffer anchored the rope with his weight while Smitty climbed his grip, perched against his chest.

“Don´t you Dare to drop me,” Smitty said, breathless.

“Never,” Puffer replied, quiet for once. “Not even if the stars begged.”

“Tch. Cocky Bastard..” Smitty muttered, but a smile curled at the edge of his mouth.

They twirled around, hanging in air like a mobile caught in the wind.

The lights below were far away.

 Up here, there was only them — two silhouettes against the sky, clinging to something bigger than fear.

Smitty let go of Puffer hold and landed back on the roof, he just grinned before he ran to the other side, grabbing hold of the twin silks and soaring up.

he ran to the other side, grabbing hold of the twin silks and soaring up.

They danced through the air like it belonged to them.

Their shadows spun on the rooftop like painted streaks, moving faster, closer, challenging and laughing all the while.

Puffer flipped backward, catching the bar with one hand.

Smitty followed with a twist, nearly knocking into him on purpose.

“Show-off!” Puffer shouted with a grin.

“You started it!” Smitty yelled back, laughing so hard his voice cracked.

Their motions slowed only when Smitty collapsed onto the rooftop floor again, breathless, wild-haired, and glowing from the flight.

Puffer dropped down beside him, still grinning, still slightly stunned at the sparkle in Smitty’s eyes — now fully visible in the open.

“I haven’t done that in… I don’t know how long,” Smitty said, stretching his arms behind his head, eyes on the stars above.

“Missed it?”

Smitty turned his head, meeting Puffer’s gaze. “Missed this. Feeling like… I could fly without crashing.”

Puffer reached over, brushing his fingers along Smitty’s knuckles — grounding, light. “Then keep flying. Don’t run.”

Smitty hesitated…

The stars above shimmered quietly.

The rooftop air was still electric — warm with laughter, heavy with the afterglow of something close to freedom.

 Smitty sat now fully beside Puffer.

Puffer turned to him slowly, voice low and careful now.

“Smitty… I meant what I said earlier. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to keep shutting me out.”

Smitty didn’t move for a second.

Then, like a thread slowly unraveling, his smile faded. His gaze drifted toward the skyline again — away from Puffer, away from everything real.

“I want to believe you,” he said quietly. “I do.” Believe me-

Puffer gently reached out, brushing his thumb across the side of Smitty’s face. “Then let me in.”

Smitty flinched at the touch. It wasn’t out of fear— it was something deeper. Something aching.

“I can’t,” he whispered. Please save me-

His voice cracked on the second word.

“But Why?” Puffer asked frustrated.

“You just don’t get it, Puffer. If I let you in, it means I have something to lose. And I’ve spent too damn long surviving by not having anything.”

Puffer’s face fell, his hand dropping slightly. “I’m not something you’ll lose, Smitty.”

But Smitty had already pulled away.

He stood, not even looking back, eyes hidden again behind those ridiculous, radiant two-toned sunglasses again.

“That’s what they all say. Until they do.”

The swing ropes swayed gently behind him, still catching the last glimmers of moonlight.

He paused for just a second — long enough that Puffer thought maybe, maybe he’d turn back.

He just walked away, the echo of his footsteps lost in the wind, leaving Puffer alone in the middle of the rooftop.

Puffer stood there.

He didn’t say a word.

He just waited there.

The rooftop was quiet.

almost feeling Empty.

His jaw clenched. Then loosened. Then clenched again.

The stars above them kept shimmering, uncaring, while Puffer stood in the silence he didn’t ask for — arms loose at his sides, gaze lingering where Smitty used to be.

Puffer stayed there for a long time after Smitty had vanished, the distant sounds of the city below barely touching him.

The ropes still swayed, moved only by the wind now — not laughter, not momentum. Just silence.

He finally moved, his knuckles were already white from how much he gripped his fist even tighter.

He tilted his head back, staring at the sky — not because it brought peace, but because it was easier than looking at the spot where Smitty had stood.

 The stars blinked above him. Unchanging. Unreachable.

Puffer scoffed before running after Smitty.

“I would’ve stayed,” he muttered to himself “You didn’t even give me the chance.”

His voice cracked just slightly on that last word, shaking his head.

No.

He wasn’t going to give up.

Not yet!

The soft glow of a spotlight flickers through cracks in the wooden ceiling.

Dust swirls like stardust in the still air.

The silks hang from the rafters, untouched for weeks, as if waiting for this moment.

Puffer stands center stage, still out of breath from all the running

He knew Smitty would be here.

He had to

He turns, eyes tracking the soft thud of footsteps that appeared— Smitty emerges from the shadows, silent, cautious.

“Why did you follow me” Smitty asked, his voice was firm with a slight tone of annoyance.

“You shouldn’t have came looking for me-.”

But Puffer wasn’t listening at all, already stepping forward, feet brushing across the dusty floor, drawn in despite himself.

“But I did.”

A beat of silence.

Then the music once again begins, soft and ghostlike — echoing from a memory they both share.

 The world around them fades.

Puffer tried again. A gentle voice echoed through the room:

“You know I want you…”

“It’s not a secret I try to hide…”

“I know you want me…”

“So don’t keep saying our hands are tied…”

As he sings, he reaches out a hand — tentative, open.

Smitty hesitates…

But even with the Sunglasses on, there was something in his eys.

With a painful slow movement Smitty grabs the silks.

He launches himself into the air, swinging high above.

Graceful and defiant.

As Puffer continues singing from the ground, Smitty soars — the air his armor, distance his shield.

Puffer voice rised, almost pleading.

“You claim it’s not in the cards, and fate is pulling you miles away…”

“And out of reach from me…”

Puffer quickly turns on his heels as he rushed towards to climb the platform — chasing him, not physically, but emotionally.

Step by step.

Smitty swings past, a blur of white hair and flickering resolve.

Puffer extends a hand as Smitty arcs by.

They touch.

Fingers meet in the air.

For a second — just one — time stands still.

“But you’re here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide…”

“That you’re my destiny?”

Smitty lands softly on the ground, face showing a hint of red, chest heaving.

Their eyes lock.

Smitty shakily took a breath as he closed his eyes.

“What if we rewrite the stars?”

“Say you were made to be mine…”

Puffer jumped back down on the ground.

He walks toward Smitty slowly, drawn in like a moth to flame.

Smitty followed his every move, slowly copying him.

They dance — not choreographed, but fluid, raw, desperate.

Spinning, catching, letting go, reeling each other in again.

“It’s up to you… and it’s up to me…”

“No one can say what we get to be…”

Puffer held his arm up as he grabbed the rope and pulled it.

When the rope was firmly in his grip and the sack fell heavily on the ground at the other end of the rope, Puffer held Smitty firmly with his other arm.

They lift into the air together, hands gripping the silks as they spiral upward — breathless, weightless, everything hanging on a thread.

Both sang like no tomorrow.

Their Voices rang through the Room like a Melody.

“Why don’t we rewrite the stars…”

“Maybe the world could be ours…”

“Tonight.”

Smitty spins around, eyes wide, and steps back as if he’s about to argue—

but Puffer suddenly grabs the silks and swings forward, cutting through the air.

His Voice was breathless shaking from multiple emotions running through him. 

"All I want is to fly with you…"

He jumps, catching the second silk, spinning toward Puffer midair, movements now completely in sync.

Puffer had his gaze focused on him.

"All I want is to fall with you…"

Their feet meet mid-spin — bodies barely brushing — suspended high above the floor.

"So just give me all of you…"

They twist in the air and land together. Hands still linked. Breathing heavy.

Smitty eyes just screaming desperatly.

"It feels impossible…"

Puffer just kept his eyes on him, almost pleading for him to Stay.

"It’s not impossible…"

Smitty let out a shaky breath he had been holding. 

"Is it impossible…?"

Puffer grip on his hand tighted slightly.

"Say that it’s possible…"

The music drops to a hush — just their breathing and the creak of the silks above them.

They land.

Standing chest to chest.

Everything is quiet.

A flicker of hope or surrender.

Puffer grabbed now both of Smitty hands.

“I’m here, Smitty. No crowds. No spotlight."

“Just me.”

Smitty looks at him. Really looks.

And then—

He steps away.

Again.

Smitty’s expression crumples — torn, aching.

“I want to believe you.” Please belive me-

Puffer reaches slowly for him, gently brushing Smitty’s cheek.

“Then do.”

Smitty couldn’t trust his voice any second longer.

His voice cracked.

“I can’t-” I´m Scared

He pulls away.

Puffer smiled faded.

“Why not?”

Smitty turned around, he didn’t wanted to be seen like this, especially not by Puffer.

“Because I’m scared!”

“Because if I let myself have this… and I lose it… I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

Puffer doesn’t move.

 He just watches as Smitty backs away.

Smitty voice was barely audbile but Puffer still heard it.

The Pain.

The Hurt in his Voice.

“I’m sorry.”

And with that he disappears into the shadows.

Puffer stands alone in the quiet. The silks sway overhead like ghostly arms.

The music fades.

The stars don’t rewrite themselves.

He knew the others would be wondering where he was

He should go back.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stood frozen in the center, running a hand through his hair and glancing where Smitty had disapeared.

He didn’t know where he should go— he just knew that he needed to move, to breathe.

He needs to get out of here.

Chapter Text

The cheers still echoed in the canvas walls of the Warehouse long after the final bow.

The spotlight dimmed, the scent of fire and sawdust lingered in the air, and the warmth of applause still throbbed in the hearts of the performers.

 John stood center ring, staring up at the ceiling like he could see beyond it—

beyond the city, beyond the country, straight into a dream that refused to settle.

Matt found him first.

Of course he did.

“You’re doing it again,” Matt scoffed, arms crossed. “Thinking too far ahead.”

John didn’t respond at first. His eyes were glittering. “We could go global.”

Matt blinked.

“What?”

John turned toward him with a grin that hadn’t aged a day since the start of this madness.

“Matt, imagine it. We take this around the world. Paris. Tokyo. London. We show everyone what beauty looks like when it doesn’t follow the rules.”

“John, we’re barely holding things together here,” Matt said. “The protests—”

“I’m not afraid of the protests,” John said firmly.

And that’s when Puffer walked in.

He hadn’t meant to overhear but after the whole situation with Smitty- He just needed an excuse- for himself…

One look at John’s wild eyes was already enough for him. That’s all he needed to know.

“You want to leave?” he asked flatly. “Now?”

John’s jaw tightened. “I want to expand. This dream, this circus—it’s bigger than this city. It has to be.”

Puffer stepped forward. “And if it all goes down? If you drag everyone across the globe and the second we step off the boat, they treat us worse than here?

“You’re risking everything.”

John shook his head. “I’m giving them the world.”

“You’re gambling it.”

The tent seemed to hold its breath. Even Matt didn’t intervene this time.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Puffer snapped.

“You’ve worked so hard to build this. You fought tooth and nail to protect it. And now you want to take a match to it because you’re bored of winning here?”

John’s gaze hardened. “I’m not bored.” I’m hungry.

“This circus changed lives. It’s not just a performance. It’s a revolution.”

And revolutions don’t wait around forever.

“You’re not the only one who matters here,” Puffer said quietly. “You’re forgetting what this place means to the people who finally found a home.”

John’s voice turned sharp. “And I won’t let it become a prison.”

Puffer’s fists clenched at his sides.

The silence stretched between them like a cracked mirror same dream, different reflections.

Finally, Puffer turned and walked away, jaw tight, hands trembling.

Outside the Warehouse, the night air was cold against his flushed face.

He barely noticed Smitty watching from the shadows, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

John stayed inside, eyes fixed on the rafters, where the stars once danced across fabric ceilings  — and where now, the weight of ambition threatened to tear them down.

The circus was alive again — but not in the way it had been before.

Music still played, the Warehouse still stood with Laughter, and the performers still rehearsed. But something had shifted.

Something heavy.

Like the whole place was breathing through clenched teeth.

John was gone. Not forever— at least, no one said it aloud — but after the argument, he’d vanished into the city without another word, leaving the Warehouse in Puffer’s hands.

And so now, he stood at the center of it all.

Leading Alone.

Grizzy hauled a rigging rope over his shoulder, throwing a glance toward the ring. “He hasn’t smiled once today.”

Droid, balanced precariously atop a barrel with Pezzy egging him on, shrugged. “What do you expect? Dude got handed the whole Warehouse without warning. Like,

‘Hey, here’s your anxiety with extra glitter on top.’”

Pezzy, trying to juggle three knives and a flaming hoop, muttered, “More like glitter and a time bomb.”

Grizzy sighed shaking his head as he took one more glance at Puffer. Worry shining through his eyes for his Friend.

Puffer was quiet as he walked through the camp, checking safety lines, giving subtle nods of approval.

But no jokes, no smirks. Just tension in his shoulders and a stare that never quite reached anyone’s eyes.

Smitty watched from the side, white hair pulled back, his sunglasses perched lazily on his head for once.

He’d said nothing since the argument. He hadn’t needed to.

His disapproval had been etched in how he avoided Puffer’s gaze, how his movements had grown sharper in practice.

Matt was the only one still trying to keep things patched. “We need to talk,” he told Puffer in passing, to which Puffer only replied, “Later.”

But later never came.

Grizzy finally approached. “You need to breathe, man.”

“I am breathing,” Puffer muttered, not looking up.

“No, you’re surviving. Big difference.”

Puffer’s eyes darted to him, the weight behind them heavier than usual. “If I stop to feel it, I’ll drop it all.”

Grizzy didn’t push further. He just walked away and tossed a wrench toward Droid. “Tighten the ropes, clown boy.”

“Who you calling clown — oh, right. Fair.-But Hey! I´m still the Tech Guy here!”

Meanwhile, Smitty had taken to working late.

He stayed after practice, polishing the trapeze bar, adjusting the smallest props, tying knots twice over just to untie them again.

The others noticed, but no one commented.

Until one night, Pezzy wordlessly threw a marshmallow at him. “Stop it,” he said.

Smitty blinked, turning slowly. “Stop what?”

“You’re making us feel like ghosts.”

He didn’t answer.

Just went back to tying rope, slower this time. He didn´t noitced Puffer who watched from across the room.

He felt like a stranger in a home he helped build.

The stage was set, the show was coming — but the laughter had dulled, and every drumbeat sounded like a warning.

The unspoken truth buzzed between them all like static

They were holding it together.

But just barely.

The sun had barely finished rising when Puffer walked into the main Room of the Warehouse to do his usual rounds.

The morning quiet was a rare luxury — one he appreciated.

It was his one moment of peace before the chaos of the day.

But that peace shattered the second he heard unfamiliar voices — loud, mocking, and not part of the circus.

A group of men stood near the equipment crates, one leaning lazily against the scaffolding with a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips.

Their clothes were too clean for riggers, their posture too arrogant for performers.

They didn’t belong.

Puffer’s brows furrowed, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. “This area is staff only,” he said, firm but polite. “If you’re here for the show, the entrance is on the other side.”

One of the men laughed — a sharp, disrespectful sound that bounced off the tent walls.

Another stepped forward, tall and smug. “We’re just admiring the freakshow up close.”

Puffer’s jaw clenched.

“I said,” he repeated, voice low now, more warning than request, “this Room is for performers and crew only. You need to leave.”

The tall one scoffed and, without warning, spat at Puffer’s feet. “What’re you gonna do, pretty boy? Sing me to death?”

That was it.

Puffer stepped forward, fire rising behind his eyes. “I don’t care what you think this is, but you’re not going to stand here and disrespect me, or anyone else under this Building.”

The man took a challenging step closer, the others crowding behind him like jackals. Tension filled the air.

Then a voice rang out—sharp, clipped.

“Back off.”

Matt stepped in from the side entrance, eyes cool and unreadable as he stopped beside Puffer. Though not as broad as Grizzy or as chaotic as Pezzy, Matt had a quiet kind of authority,

the kind people didn’t question.

The intruders blinked, clearly not expecting backup.

Matt crossed his arms. “You heard him. You’re not welcome here. Leave now, before we make it clear.”

The moment stretched, the air was heavy with tension, the silence in the Room sharp enough to cut.

Then one of the men muttered something under his breath and turned to leave, shoving past Matt with an arrogant shoulder bump then the slur left his mouth.

Cruel.

Personal.

Directed right at Matt.

That did it.

Matt turned around and swung, hard and fast, decking the man across the jaw with a sickening crack.

The man crumpled sideways, and within seconds, the fight exploded.

One of the attackers lunged at Matt like he was trying out for an amateur wrestling league — but Puffer wasn’t having it.

With the reflexes of a caffeinated gorilla, he intercepted the guy mid-air, bear-hugged him, and yeeted him into a metal pole with a sound that was equal parts “clang” and “regret.”

Another guy charged in with all the confidence of a guy who'd never been in a real fight.

Before he could even reach Puffer, a massive hand yoinked him backward by the collar — it was Grizzy, who had just emerged from the shadows like the final boss in a street brawler.

He squinted at the chaos, muttered, “Wrong day, wrong people,” and flung the poor guy across the pavement like a malfunctioning lawn dart.

Then came Pezzy, from the side like a caffeinated squirrel on a mission. He launched himself onto someone’s back, legs flailing, yelling,

“I knew today was gonna be fun!” as he pounded on the man’s head like he was playing the world’s angriest game of Whac-A-Mole.

Droid barreled in behind him like a malfunctioning Roomba.

He tripped over a rogue rope and went airborne for a full half-second before crashing into someone’s shins like a bowling ball.

“I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS—WAIT NEVER MIND THIS IS AWESOME!” he yelled, already latched onto a guy’s ankle and—oh yes—biting it.

 Viciously. Like a raccoon with nothing left to lose.

Meanwhile, Smitty pushed through the chaos, his sunglasses hanging on by sheer willpower. “Matt!” he shouted heroically, but before he could reach him, some other man tried to grab his arm.

Smitty spun to react — only for Tyler to appear like a human missile, shoulder-checking the guy into next week.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, panting slightly.

Smitty nodded, adjusting his shades. “Yeah. Thanks—remind me to name my firstborn after you.”

Tyler Laughed,patting his shoulders before running into the chaos.

From the shadows, Eli exploded into the scene like Batman’s unmedicated cousin. He vaulted onto a crate, kicked a dude square in the chest, and yelled,

“Surprise, idiot!” before disappearing into the fog of battle like some kind of chaos ninja.

Fl0m, ever the tactician, was darting through the edges of the fight like a chess master at a street brawl.

He disarmed one attacker with a smooth wrist twist, socked another guy in the jaw so hard his soul briefly left his body, and ducked under a flying shoe without blinking.

Tucker, face red and fury fully activated, intercepted a thug who was about to sucker-punch Swagger.

He spun and decked the guy so hard that he flew backward into a stack of props — which then collapsed, setting off a chain reaction that might’ve qualified as a minor natural disaster.

“Try that again,” Tucker growled. “See what happens.”

Swagger, absolutely thriving in the madness, grinned like a kid in a candy store with no supervision.

“Yo, this is like fight night at the circus! LET’S GOOOO!” he bellowed, diving into two attackers with the reckless joy of a man who once tried to fight a vending machine for stealing his dollar.

S0up laughed mid-punch, somehow enjoying himself way too much.

“You really thought we weren’t gonna fight back?” he said, before elbowing a guy in the ribs so hard it might’ve rearranged some organs.

Fitz starred amid the chaos, moved with precision.

He tripped one attacker with a flawless leg sweep, then punched him in the gut like he was closing a car door with bad intentions.

He looked over at Rectrixx, who had already yanked someone off Pezzy and kneed them in the stomach with enough force to make their ancestors wince.

The air buzzed with adrenaline, grunts, and the distant sound of someone yelling,

“WHO THREW A CHAIR?!”

“Teamwork, baby,” Rectrixx Laughed, helping Pezzy up to his feet. Fitz grinned cracking his knuckels.

The Room roared with chaos—bodies, noise, and pure defiance.

Through it all, Puffer’s eyes searched—and locked on Smitty, who was trying to stay near Matt and Tyler, his face tight, sunglasses cracked from someone’s elbow.

Their eyes met for half a second.

Puffer didn’t even think.

He lunged forward, grabbing Smitty by the arm and pulling him away just before a man tackled the space where he’d stood.

“You alright?!” he yelled over the roar.

Smitty blinked, confused and breathless. “I—yeah—what the hell is happening!?”

“We’re protecting what’s ours,” Puffer growled, turning to face another attacker.

They all were.

This wasn’t just about survival anymore.

It was about family.

And no one got to tear that apart.

The brawl was still raging, shouts and grunts echoing through the Room when a sharp, acrid scent cut through the air—smoke.

Pezzy was the first to notice. “Wait—yo, do you smell that?”

Grizzy’s eyes darted toward the side of the room where supposely crates where to stand, was now a faint orange light that flickers and had begun to reflect on the canvas. “No. No, no, no—”

A protester, half-beaten and slipping away through the chaos, grinned back at them with bloody teeth and held up a lit match, letting it drop into a pile of hay soaked in alcohol on top of the crates.

The flames exploded upward instantly.

“FIRE!” Matt shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

The Warehouse was massive, but it was dry and old, a perfect victim for the blaze. Fabric caught like paper. The light show turned deadly.

“EVERYONE OUT!” Puffer bellowed. “GET TO THE WATER BUCKETS! GRAB THE EXITS!”

Tyler was already dragging one unconscious protester out the side while Eli grabbed Droid, who had tripped over a bench. “C’mon, we’re not dying today!”

S0up and Swagger sprinted toward the flames with buckets, trying to stop the spread, but it was moving too fast.

Smitty, surrounded by smoke and confusion, had his sleeve caught on a prop.

He coughed hard, eyes watering, trying to free himself. The crowd had split, people were panicking, pushing, yelling—

Grizzy caught a beam mid-fall, groaning with the weight. “GET OUT, GET OUT NOW!”

Pezzy zipped back in, coughing. “WHERE’S DROID!?”

“I’m fine!” Droid wheezed, crawling out with a puppet somehow still on his hand. “My baby’s okay too.”

“DROID WTF-?!”

With one last blast of flame, the center pole cracked and the tent began to crumple inward, flames licking up the stripes like the Warehouse was screaming.

“There’s fire coming from the circus!”

The words cut through the crowded street like a siren.

John’s head snapped up, eyes following the plumes of thick smoke curling into the evening sky like fingers reaching to choke the stars.

His heart dropped.

He barely heard the rest — the panicked voices, the screams, the stomping of boots as firefighters rushed past. His feet were already moving. Fast.

Running.

Through the streets. Dodging wagons. Leaping puddles.

People were already stopping, watching the sky, watching the flames — but he kept running.

He turned the last corner, and his breath caught in his chest.

The circus was burning.

The Warehouse was half-collapsed, the Walls were licked by fire, ash floating like snowflakes.

The red and gold stripes or Paint — once vibrant and full of life — were scorched and crisped.

The performance grounds were chaos. Hoses snaking through the dirt, people shouting, firefighters battling back the blaze.

And in the middle of it all, his family.

He saw them. Pezzy and Droid, covered in soot,holding eachother for support.

Matt, holding a cut across his arm, yelling orders. Fl0m, Eli, Fitz, Swagger, Tucker, Tyler, Rectrixx, and S0up — all battered but moving, helping, still breathing.

And then—

Puffer.

Shoulders hunched, face blackened with smoke, arms wrapped tightly around Grizzy, who was coughing hard and struggling to stay upright.

 Puffer was guiding him out of the thick smoke, shielding him from another falling ember with his own body.

John froze for a moment.

Then ran to them. “Is everyone okay?!”

Puffer helped Grizzy sit down against a cart, brushing ash off his back. He turned, meeting John’s eyes, voice raw from the smoke. “We got everyone… I think—”

But then he paused. Looked around.

One by one, the others were accounted for.

Except one.

Matt stepped forward, voice trembling. “Wait… where’s—?”

Puffer’s eyes widened. “Smitty.”

The name dropped like a stone into silence.

Everyone turned.

The circus still burned. The back section was starting to fold inward, flames roaring high.

And without another word, Puffer turned and ran back toward the inferno.

“Puffer—NO!” Matt shouted, stepping forward to follow — but Fl0m and Eli grabbed him, holding him back as the heat pulsed forward.

“You can’t go in there—” Fl0m hissed, straining against Matt’s fight. “It’ll collapse!”

“HE’S IN THERE!” Matt screamed, trying to yank free. “LET ME GO!”

John stood frozen. His lungs refused to move. His heart was pounding too hard to think.

And then—

He ran.

Straight into the fire after them.

Inside the Inferno.

The heat hit Puffer like a wall. His lungs seized as smoke surged into them, eyes stinging immediately. He ducked low, shoulder slamming into what remained of a scorched pillar as flames clawed at the canvas above.

“SMITTY!” he screamed, voice hoarse and breaking. “SMITTY, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

The only response was the roar of fire, the groan of beams warping under pressure, and something collapsing deeper within.

He pressed forward.

He stumbled over shattered crates, tripped on broken beams, and pushed through a hanging curtain of flame with his sleeve.

His eyes darted frantically around what remained of the tent’s heart — once the backstage area, now unrecognizable.

Then—

A cough. Weak. Choked.

“Puffer?” a voice rasped.

His head snapped toward the sound, and there — through the smoke — Smitty.

Half-pinned beneath a fallen beam, blood streaking down his temple, white hair matted to his forehead, his stupid two-toned glasses crooked but somehow still on.

“Smitty!” Puffer dropped to his knees and tried to lift the beam, fingers burning as the hot wood bit into his palms. “I got you—I got you, just hold on—!”

Smitty coughed again, blinking up at him, dazed. “Why… are you here?”

“Because you are, idiot!”

Another loud groan shook the structure.

Sparks rained down.

Puffer looked up just as another beam cracked above. “Shit—”

And then John burst through the smoke behind them, face grim, eyes wild. “PUFFER! SMITTY!”

“Help me!” Puffer shouted, not even glancing. “He’s stuck!”

John rushed forward, grabbing the other end of the beam.

Together they lifted, the wood finally shifting just enough for Smitty to drag his legs free.

But as soon as he was out, a massive crash echoed through the space.

Puffer turned, too late.

A support beam snapped above and came crashing down, embers flying—and it struck him hard across the side.

“PUFFER!” Smitty’s scream cracked.

The hit flung him across the floor.

He landed with a sickening thud and a grunt, blood immediately blooming under his jacket as he curled inward.

“Puffer!” John dropped to him, hands flying to the wound, face pale. “Stay with me, stay with me—”

“I’m—fine—” Puffer wheezed, clearly not fine. He tried to sit up, failed. “Smitty—he’s okay, right—?”

Smitty dropped beside them, grabbing Puffer’s hand without thinking, his other hovering over the burn.

“Why would you come back for me? Why would you risk—this?!”

Puffer’s lips trembled into a half-smile through the pain.

“Because I care, Smitty… even if you hate me.”

Smitty’s eyes glistened, the fire reflecting in them like molten glass.

“I don’t hate you.”

John looked between them, jaw clenched.

The walls groaned again, louder.

“No time—” he snapped. “Puffer can’t walk. Help me carry him.”

Smitty nodded instantly, crawling under Puffer’s arm, ignoring how his jacket was wet with blood and soot.

John took the other side. Together, they heaved him up.

And as the circus began to collapse behind them, the three stumbled through flame and smoke — together Outside from the Ashes.

The moment they burst through the smoke, a wave of relief hit the crowd like a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

Smitty and John stumbled out of the burning wreck, both gripping Puffer between them — one arm over each shoulder, his boots dragging against the dirt.

His jacket was torn, his face blackened with soot and blood, and his eyes half-lidded, flickering with pain.

But he was alive.

“Someone help!” John shouted, voice breaking. “We need help—now!”

Grizzy was the first to rush forward.

Matt wasn’t far behind. The moment Smitty let go to let Grizzy take his place, his knees buckled.

He collapsed right into Matt’s arms, burying his face into his chest, his hands shaking.

Matt wrapped his arms around him tightly, one hand behind Smitty’s head. “Shh..it´s okay..”

Smitty didn’t respond—he just held on tighter.

Paramedics were already moving, taking Puffer carefully from John and Grizzy’s grasp, placing him onto a stretcher.

Puffer’s fingers twitched as if trying to reach back toward Smitty but couldn’t lift the strength.

The rest of the group — Droid, Pezzy, Fl0m, Eli, Swagger, Tyler, Rectrixx, Soup, Fitz, Tucker — stood in stunned silence, faces lit orange by the towering flames behind them.  

The circus,

their home,

was gone.

The fire roared louder now, unchecked. What was once a brilliant patchwork of color, music, and dreams was now being reduced to ashes, piece by piece.

And still, no one moved.

No one spoke.

They just watched.

The only sound was the crackle of fire and the occasional sob.

Smitty lifted his head slowly, eyes rimmed with red, and looked at Puffer on the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance.

Something in him cracked.

His heart ached like someone had reached in and torn it.

“He saved me,” he whispered to Matt, who blinked at him in confusion.

“I was ready to let it burn. But he came back for me.”

Matt swallowed hard. “He always would. You know that, right?”

Smitty didn’t respond.

John stood slightly apart, covered in ash, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched.

His eyes followed the flames but his thoughts were a thousand miles away.

This was his dream. And now it was burning

The circus was gone.

And now… maybe so was Puffer.

The sterile white walls of the hospital offered no comfort, no warmth — just cold, humming lights and the rhythmic beeping of machines keeping time with a heartbeat that wasn’t waking up.

Smitty sat beside Puffer’s bed, his fingers wrapped tightly around Puffer’s hand — smudged with soot and IV lines taped over his skin.

He hadn’t let go since they wheeled him in. The others had been there earlier.

They’d all stayed as long as they could. But eventually, the nurses asked them to leave and rest. Except Smitty.

He wouldn’t leave.

He couldn’t.

Tears slipped free without a sound, carving paths down Smitty’s cheeks, unhidden now that his red and blue sunglasses had been shoved into the mess of his hair.

His green eyes, swollen and rimmed in crimson, stared hollowly at the motionless figure in the hospital bed.

His thumb trembled as it stroked over Puffer’s limp knuckles, aching for any sign — any flicker — of life.

But there was only stillness.

“Why’d you do that?” he whispered, voice wrecked and frayed at the edges.

“Why the hell would you run into the fire? For me?”

The only reply was the low, steady hiss of the oxygen line.

“I was awful to you,” he choked.

“Treated you like you didn’t matter. Pretended you were just some cocky bastard trying to ride the circus's fame.”

His voice cracked. “But you… you ran into a goddamn inferno. For me.”

His fingers clenched around Puffer’s hand, white-knuckled now, as if trying to will life back into it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible, each word ragged with guilt.

“God, I’m so sorry. For every cold look, every time I turned away when all you ever did was try. You didn’t deserve that.”

He bent forward until his forehead touched Puffer’s hand, breath stuttering against the skin, as sobs overtook him.

The tears came harder, spilling onto the white sheets, soaking into the sterile cotton like ink on paper.

“Please,” he begged. “Please just… wake up. Don’t leave me like this. Wake up, you stubborn, reckless idiot. Please.”

Outside, Matt stood rigid, back to the door, arms crossed tightly like they were the only thing holding him together.

His jaw trembled beneath its clench. Behind him, the rest of the team sat scattered in the waiting room — silent, shattered, and grieving.

One heartbeat continued to echo in the room.

Where once color, music, and magic lived… now only smoke, rubble, and the distant stench of ruin clung to the air.

The charred skeleton of the main tent stood like a gravestone, jagged poles jutting from the ground like broken bones.

John stood in the middle of it all, motionless, silent, black soot on his coat and in his hair.

He hadn’t spoken a word since the fire was put out. Not to the others. Not even to himself.

He just watched it all… disappear.

All because he couldn’t stop chasing more.

More cities. More crowds. More money. More success. More.

It wasn’t about the dream anymore.

If he was only there. Maybe he could have stopped it?

He turned away from the ruins.

Away from the smoke.

Away from the pain in Grizzy’s lungs and the tears in Matt’s eyes and Smitty’s sobs at Puffer’s bedside.

Away from the wreckage he caused.

The bar was quiet, dim, a world away from the chaos he left behind.

Neon flickered overhead.

The bartender didn’t ask. Didn’t need to.

Just raised an eyebrow when John dropped onto the stool like a man caving under invisible weight — face ghost-pale, hands trembling like broken clockwork.

“Bourbon,” John rasped. His voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel. “Strong.”

The first shot hit the counter.

Then another.

Then another.

He downed them without flinching.

The fire in his throat was a flicker compared to the inferno behind his eyes.

Ash clung to the cuffs of his coat, singed threads curling like dead petals.

Soot blackened his hands. Smoke still clung to his skin like guilt.

The circus was gone.

His circus.

Reduced to twisted metal and scorched earth.

His people — his family were scattered, wounded.

Some might never look him in the eye again.

And Puffer…

Puffer might never open his eyes.

John stared into the next shot the bartender poured, but didn’t lift it.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to.

Forgiveness felt like a word meant for someone else — someone better.

Someone who hadn’t let everything fall apart.

He finally picked up the glass, but this time, he didn’t drink. Just held it there, fingers tight around it like it might shatter in his grip.

This one wasn’t for drowning pain.

This one was a quiet, bitter toast.

To the dream he burned to the ground with his own hands.

The bar was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of spilled liquor.

Somewhere, glasses clinked, laughter murmured — but it all blurred around him.

Noise behind glass.

John sat at the far end, a shadow slumped over a glass of bourbon and broken dreams, staring through the amber liquid as if it could show him something.

Anything besides the wreckage he’d left behind.

The world outside felt distant. Blurred.

A faint melody crept into his thoughts, uninvited, like an old friend. A lullaby from his childhood.

A Old Memory flashed right through his eyes.

A young John, no older than ten, sat cross-legged on the wooden floor.

Crumpled posters of clowns, tightrope walkers, and lion tamers were taped messily to the walls. He held a small music box in his lap — a gift from his mother.

 When he turned the crank, it played a gentle, music-box version of A Million Dreams.

His mother’s voice was soft behind him.

“One day, you’ll build it, Johnny. A place where nobody has to feel small.”

Back then, his eyes gleamed with color and fire — not ash and loss.

He believed.

John’s jaw clenched, a tear slipping down unnoticed.

He sang under his breath, voice rasped with grief, the words barely more than a whisper.

“I close my eyes and I can see

The world that’s waiting up for me

That I call my own…”

He blinked, swallowed, and looked down at the ash-stained floor. His knuckles whitened around the glass.

What world? What dream?

But the memory didn’t let go. His child self clung to his mind — the wonder, the belief.

“They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy

They can say, they can say I’ve lost my mind…”

He shook his head with a tired laugh.

Maybe he had.

“I don’t care, I don’t care so call me crazy

We can live in a world that we design…”

The memory of tents rising from nothing.

Of laughter.

Of Spotlights.

Of strangers finding hope in a ring of sawdust and colored light.

His lips trembled. His voice grew firmer.

“’Cause every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake…”

As The bar was dimly lit, stale with the scent of old whiskey and burned dreams.

 John sat hunched over the counter, a half-empty glass of something strong clutched in his hand.

His coat was soaked from the drizzle outside, but he didn’t seem to care.

His knuckles were white around the glass, and his eyes stared blankly into the reflection of the shattered man looking back at him.

Behind him, the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps filled the silence one by one.

Matt.

Grizzy.

Droid.

Pezzy.

Tyler.

Tucker.

Eli.

Fl0m.

Rectrixx.

Swagger.

S0up.

Fitz.

They stood there, a quiet army of mismatched souls, tired and smoke - streaked, but unbroken. They had been through hell together.

They had bled, fought, and laughed together.

And now they watched the man who started it all crumble in front of them.

John didn’t even turn around.

“If you came to tell me it’s all my fault,” he muttered, voice gravel and defeat, “you don’t need to. I already know. The circus is gone. The money is gone. Puffer’s in a hospital bed, Smitty won’t speak to me, and my dream is ash.

Just… leave me alone.”

No one moved.

Then Matt stepped forward, his voice quiet, but firm. “You think we came here to blame you?”

John scoffed bitterly. “Why else would you come? There’s nothing left. Just a washed-up fraud with a whiskey bottle and a list of regrets.”

Grizzy stepped beside Matt, arms crossed. “Shut up, John.”

That made John turn.

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up,” Grizzy repeated, voice deeper this time, steadier.

“We didn’t follow you for the money. Hell, we didn’t even join the circus because it was some shiny dream. We joined because you saw something in us no one else ever did.”

Droid chimed in, unusually serious.

“I was just the weird, loud guy who couldn’t sit still. You gave me a stage and told me being weird was the point.”

Pezzy’s voice was soft, unusually calm.

“You let me be me. Gave me a reason to stop hiding.”

Tyler looked away for a moment before stepping forward.

“You pulled me out of a dark place, man. I didn’t even know how to look people in the eye before you threw me into the spotlight.”

One by one, they spoke.

“You believed in us when we didn’t.” — Tucker.

“You gave us a home.” — Fitz.

“You gave us a family.” — Rectrixx.

“You gave us a reason to keep waking up.” — Fl0m.

“Even if the circus is gone, the heart of it isn’t. It’s us.” — Eli.

“And we’re still here, aren’t we?” — S0up.

“We didn’t lose everything. Not yet.” — Swagger.

John’s breath hitched.

His fingers loosened around the glass.

He couldn’t meet their eyes, not all of them at once.

Matt stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You made us dream, John. Now it’s our turn to make you remember why you started.”

John’s lips trembled, but no words came.

His throat burned, and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

He looked around at the circle of people surrounding him — all broken in their own ways, but unyielding, still standing.

His family.

Tears welled in his eyes, hot and blinding.

“…I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Matt’s voice cracked gently. “Maybe not. But you’ve still got us.”

And for the first time since the fire, John let the tears fall.

The bar was still. A quiet breath of emotion hung heavy in the air, everyone frozen in the wake of John’s tears.

Then — barely more than a whisper — John hummed.

The note trembled in the air, uncertain, like a ghost brushing against old wounds.

His voice cracked as he found the words, torn raw from someplace buried deep and bruised.

“I drank champagne with kings and queens…”

Eyes closed, shoulders quaking,

he leaned into the melody like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“The politicians praised my name…”

The room fell still.

Grizzy’s throat bobbed. He took a breath — then his voice joined in, low and steady, grounding the fragile thread John had started.

“But those were someone else’s dreams…”

Matt stepped forward, his eyes glassy with tears, a sad, crooked smile blooming on his face like the sun rising behind a storm.

He didn’t hesitate.

“The pitfalls of the man I became…”

Then Droid and Pezzy — shaky, imperfect — waded into the song too.

Their voices weren’t polished. But they were real, bruised and bleeding and full of life.

“For years and years, I chased their cheers…”

“A crazy speed of always needing more…”

They weren’t performing. Not tonight.

They were remembering.

Moving together, slow at first — hands brushing, steps unsure — but not for applause.

Not for the crowd.

For each other.

Out the bar doors, into the cold rain-slicked street, John led them.

The night wrapped around them, but it didn’t feel empty anymore.

Every footfall felt like picking up the shattered pieces of something once beautiful.

“But when I stop and see you here…”

John turned back to them — Matt, Grizzy, Pezzy, Droid

each one with eyes full of fire and grief and unspoken forgiveness.

They weren’t just watching him.

They were with him.

“I remember who all this was for…”

And then, like a wave cresting at last, the chorus broke free —

fierce, defiant, and aching with everything they’d lost and everything they still had

“And from now on…”

Their voices echoed down the street, carried on the night air like a promise —

messy, imperfect, and undeniably theirs.

"And we will come back home…”

The light above the bar flickered as John leaded them back inside leaning against the wood, chest heaving from the last note.

His hand shook as he reached for the bottle, pouring shots like old rituals —

one for each memory, one for each name still echoing in the ash.

“From now on…” he sang again, softer now, cradling the words.

Grizzy clapped a hand to his back, laughing through the rasp in his throat. “Damn right,” he growled, lifting his shot. “To the mad bastard who ran this ship.”

They clinked glasses, and the burn this time did sting — real, clean, like blood waking up under the skin.

Pezzy slid across the bar top like a chaotic comet, landing in a half-spin that sent glasses clattering.

“I missed this!” he shouted, voice cracking as he threw his arms wide and howled the next line.

“These eyes will not be blinded by the lights!”

Droid slammed a mug on the counter like a drumbeat.

Fitz and Swagger joined in with their own rhythm — thumping, stomping, slapping tabletops —

until the bar itself felt alive again, a heartbeat resurrected.

“From now on, what's waited till tomorrow starts tonight…”

Matt stood on a chair now, arms stretched toward the sagging ceiling,

eyes closed as he belted the next line like a prayer.

“It starts tonight!”

They were laughing, crying, howling together —

too loud, too raw, too real for this world. And no one cared.

Tyler climbed onto the bar next to him, shot in hand, bellowing

“Let this promise in me start—”

He pointed across the room, where Rectrixx was pulling out a crumpled poster from the wreckage.

He brushed the ash from it, revealing the Logo of their circus a bit burned but still recognizable.

“Like an anthem in my heart!”

“From now on, from now on, from now on!”

The chorus exploded — everyone pounding on counters, stomping feet, pouring drinks, grabbing each other by the shoulders and screaming the words into each other’s faces like they needed to believe them.

John stood in the center of it all, arms stretched like a ringmaster once more — not commanding, but inviting.

And they followed.

“And we will come back home…”

“Home again!”

They surged out of the bar in a wave of sound and color and life.

 Into the street where morning sun split the haze and painted gold onto their soot-streaked faces.

Pezzy and Droid danced around a lamppost.

Swagger ripped open his coat like it was part of an act.

Fitz climbed up on a bench and held up the circus banner like a flag in wartime.

“And we will come back home!”

The burnt bones of their big top stood silent in the distance — but no one looked away.

Not anymore. That wreckage was holy. A scar that proved they’d lived.

“And we will come back home…”

They didn’t ask what came next.

Because They knew.

“Home again!”

John raised his hand one last time — and they gathered around him.

No costumes. No lights. No illusions.

Just them.

Scarred, wild, grieving —

and more alive than they had ever been under any spotlight.

“From now on…”

John’s voice rang out across the hill,

cracked with emotion but strong, lifted by the others echoing the words behind him.

“And we will come back home…”

Grizzy’s hand tightened on John’s shoulder, steady and warm.

A silent we’re still here. Pezzy and Droid whooped through the charred remains of the Warehouse,

spinning, leaping — ash flying up like confetti, wild joy erupting in the place where sorrow had lived only hours ago.

“Home again!”

Voices joined like puzzle pieces fitting back together.

Fitz, Swagger, Eli, Fl0m — faces streaked with dirt, lit with something fierce — stepped through the broken skeleton of the circus,

singing with cracked lips and full hearts.

“And we will come back home!”

Matt’s voice rose, thick with emotion as he gazed at the smoldering canvas and crumpled beams. He could still see the lights, hear the music, feel the pulse of the crowd’s wonder.

The dream hadn’t died.

It had just been waiting — for them.

“And we will come back home…”

Tyler and Tucker worked side by side, straining as they dragged away what couldn’t be saved.

Rectrixx moved methodically, sweeping with precise movements, his hands steady even as his eyes brimmed.

Piece by piece, they cleared the space.

“Home again!”

Their voices crashed together like waves, ragged and unpolished, perfect in their sincerity.

Some shouted.

Some wept.

Some laughed through their tears.

But together, they sang — for what was, what could be, and what would never be taken from them again.

“From now on!”

The sound rose above the city, above the ruins, above the guilt and grief, spinning skyward like a flare sent from the heart of something reborn.

Dust swirled like gold in the sunlight.

Smoke curled like ribbon.

And in the middle of it all, they stood — shoulder to shoulder, scarred but standing.

Not just a troupe.

Not just a circus.

A family.

And through their voices, through that song, one truth rang louder than all the rest

They were home.

The final chorus rang through the dawn, pure and defiant.

Voices cracked. Tears fell. Arms wrapped around shoulders. Glasses clinked in mid-air.

“From now on!”

And when the last note faded into the golden morning, silence settled not with sorrow, but with peace.

They were rebuilding.

But more than that…

They were beginning.

From now on.

The dream wasn’t over.

It was being reborn.

At that same moment — while the others stood bathed in golden sunlight, their voices still rising in hopeful harmony.

Another kind of light broke through miles away in a quiet hospital room.

The slow, rhythmic beep of the monitor echoed softly in the background, matching the peaceful silence that had settled over the room.

Smitty sat motionless, curled into the too - small hospital chair like he was trying to disappear inside it.

His once - pristine white hair was tousled and dull under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His sunglasses — those damn red and blue things he never went without — rested forgotten atop his head, no longer hiding the hollowness in his eyes.

He hadn’t spoken in hours.

Maybe longer.

He just… sat there,

one hand gently cradling Puffer’s, the other clenched uselessly in his lap.

His thumb moved in slow, aching strokes across Puffer’s knuckles, over and over like muscle memory, like he couldn’t bear to stop.

Like stopping would mean accepting the silence.

The machines beeped, indifferent and steady.

That was the only sound now.

Smitty’s eyes were raw —

red-rimmed and bloodshot, the kind that spoke of tears long since cried, of nights without sleep, of too many whispered apologies into a room that never answered back.

He stared at Puffer like he was afraid to blink.

Like if he looked away for even a second, he’d vanish.

“You always had to be the hero, didn’t you,” he murmured, voice barely there—just a scrape of breath, hoarse and cracked.

The silence answered him with its usual cruelty.

His grip tightened around the limp hand, but there was still no squeeze in return. Not even a twitch.

“I should’ve said something.” His voice broke. “Should’ve told you I didn’t mean all that crap. That I never meant to push you away.”

A breath hitched in his throat.

“You were… God, you were always trying—and I was too much of a coward to see it.”

The steady hiss of oxygen filled the space like a funeral hymn.

“I didn’t deserve you running into that fire,” Smitty whispered.

“Not for me. Not after the way I treated you. You should’ve left me. You should’ve let me burn.”

A tear finally slipped free again, carving a lonely trail down his cheek before disappearing into the crease of his jaw.

He leaned forward, forehead resting gently against the back of Puffer’s hand, holding it like something sacred.

“Please…” he breathed. “Please don’t make me go back out there without you. Don’t let this be the end. Don’t let me be the reason you don’t come back.”

The monitor beeped. The oxygen hissed. The silence lingered.

And Smitty just stayed there—curled, quiet, breaking in slow motion beside the man who might never wake up.

Because hope, when it sticks around too long, starts to hurt worse than grief ever could.

Then—

A twitch.

A flutter.

A groggy inhale.

Smitty’s eyes widened as Puffer’s eyelids slowly blinked open, unfocused, confused, and then—

He saw him.

“…Smits?”

Puffer’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken.

Smitty was already on his feet before he even registered the movement, the heart monitor’s subtle shift pulling him like a magnet.

One breath, then another—shallow, shaky, but real.

“Puffer?” he whispered, disbelieving.

The green eyes blinked slowly open, unfocused at first, but then—there. And Smitty broke.

He surged forward, cupping Puffer’s face in both hands like he was something precious and fragile, something he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold.

His thumbs trembled against the bruised skin, smoothing over the places the fire hadn’t stolen.

“You idiot—” he choked, and a wet, breathless laugh tumbled out of him, catching on a sob that had been waiting days to escape. “You absolute idiot—don’t ever do that again.”

Puffer’s lips twitched into a crooked smile, voice hoarse but unmistakably his. “Had to make a dramatic exit, right?”

Smitty let out a sound — half laughter, half pain — and shook his head, breath hitching. “God, I hate you.”

But he didn’t.

He loved him.

And he showed it the only way he knew how.

Smitty leaned down and kissed him — no hesitation, no holding back.

His lips pressed against Puffer’s like a lifeline, firm but shaking, as if kissing him could rewrite the moments where he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get the chance.

It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Raw.

Years of silence, of denial, of too-late confessions crashing into one singular, aching moment.

It was everything.

Puffer’s eyes fluttered closed, breath catching as the kiss sank into his chest like warmth after drowning.

The fire was gone, but the heat lingered—in the way Smitty held him, in the way their fingers locked like anchors.

When they finally pulled apart, Smitty didn’t move far.

His forehead rested against Puffer’s, their breaths mingling in the space between.

He was still crying, but now the tears were different — lighter, somehow.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Smitty whispered, voice cracking. “Not after all the crap we went through. Not after this.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Puffer murmured back, lacing their fingers tighter.

His hand was weak, but the grip was full of quiet promise. “Not without you.”

Smitty gave a watery laugh, brushing his thumb beneath Puffer’s eye, as if wiping away everything that came before.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he said softly.

And for once, Puffer didn’t argue.

He just smiled.

Because finally — after fire and fear and silence — they were both exactly where they were supposed to be.

And there, in a hospital bed while the world sang its way into a new chapter, the two of them just breathed.

Together…

Chapter Text

The sun had begun to set, casting soft gold and pink hues across the charred remains of what once was their Home — ashes and timber still scattered, but the air no longer heavy with smoke.

Instead, it buzzed with warmth, with laughter, and the kind of quiet hope that only comes after surviving something unimaginable.

Everyone was gathered in a loose circle, standing among what was left — smudged shoes crunching gently over blackened earth, eyes reflecting both grief and gratitude.

There were no costumes, no spotlights.

Just them.

Just family.

John stood at the center, looking around at each of them — Matt, Pezzy, Droid, Grizzy, Smitty, Tyler, Eli, Fl0m, Swagger, Soup, Fitz, Rectrixx, Tucker

and his eyes finally landed on Puffer.

Puffer, standing with a slight lean — bandages still wrapped around his arms and a healing cut across his cheek —  gave him the smallest, most genuine grin John had seen in a long time.

“I…” John began, voice cracking slightly.

“I almost lost everything because I was too damn obsessed with more. And yet — you’re all still here.”

Silence stretched.

Then Grizzy broke it. “That’s ‘cause you’re a dumbass, but you’re our dumbass.”

Everyone laughed. Even Smitty cracked a grin.

“I didn’t bring the joy,” John said, softer now. “You did. All of you. I just gave it a stage.”

Puffer stepped forward, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You gave us more than that. You gave us a home, John.”

John looked like he might actually cry, but Puffer caught him first with a teasing nudge. “Don’t get sentimental on us now, John.”

“Yeah,” Droid added with a grin, “I just started liking you again. Let’s not ruin it.”

Matt chuckled, “I never stopped liking him, but I might reconsider if he starts sobbing.”

The group burst into laughter again, loud and alive.

Puffer raised his hand. “But for real… thank you, man. You built something insane. Beautiful. Messy. And it saved a lot of us, even when you couldn’t see it.”

John finally smiled — a full, real smile — and pulled Puffer into a hug that wasn’t leader-to-performer, but friend to friend.

When they broke apart, Smitty clapped his hands. “Alright, enough mushy crap. Let’s rebuild this damn thing.”

“Yeah!” Pezzy shouted, already cartwheeling over a half-burnt plank. “Bigger! Wilder! With flaming pogo sticks!”

“I’m not doing flaming anything!” Droid shouted after him, chasing him in circles.

Everyone groaned, and started tossing ideas around as if they hadn’t just lost it all — but were building from scratch again, with even more fire in their hearts.

The group stayed at the old circus grounds until nightfall, sprawled across scattered beams and sitting on the steps of what used to be the entrance.

The stars blinked overhead, unbothered by fire or failure. And beneath them, their family was already brimming with ideas.

Grizzy had a sketchpad on his knee, drawing out a potential layout with thick, sure lines while Pezzy leaned over his shoulder, tossing out suggestions like “giant trampoline section!” and “confetti cannons at every entrance!” Droid, naturally, offered ideas that made no structural sense but all the chaotic entertainment value in the world.

“We could set up a fog machine but it’s actually cotton candy vapor,” he said proudly.

“That’s just sugar lung disease, bro,” Rectrixx muttered with a snort.

Matt and Eli were organizing thoughts with Swagger and S0up, jotting down who could help where, who had skills in carpentry, sewing, lighting.

Tyler and Tucker were debating color schemes with Fitz — who somehow had an impressive knowledge of velvet curtain aesthetics.

Amid the mess of chatter and creativity, John sat with his elbows on his knees, quietly listening.

His eyes lit up with something that had been gone for a while — not ambition, not greed — but purpose.

True, raw, exhilarating purpose.

“Guys,” he finally said, raising his voice a little. “What if we don’t rebuild… not like before.”

Everyone paused.

“Not rebuild?” Grizzy asked, blinking. “We’re just gonna… ghost circus?”

“No, no. I mean… we don’t need a building. Not this time.” John stood up now, pacing a bit with energy bubbling in his chest.

“I know a place — old fairgrounds, way out past the city lines. Abandoned. No rent. No overhead. We take what we have and set up a tent.”

“A tent?” Fl0m raised an eyebrow.

“A big one,” John clarified, eyes gleaming now. “Traveling. Temporary. Alive. It moves with us. We become the show wherever we go. We don’t wait for people to come to us—we bring the dream to them.”

For a beat, no one said anything.

Then Matt let out a small, stunned laugh. “You want us to go… on tour?”

“Exactly.” John turned to him, then the others. “The world’s still out there. And it’s never seen anything like us. And if this Town doesn’t want us then they shall not deserve us.”

Pezzy immediately jumped up and fist-pumped. “TENT CIRCUS BABY!”

“Are you saying we’re nomads now?” Swagger grinned, nudging Fitz.

“Better than being unemployed,” Fitz muttered, already intrigued.

Puffer, leaning slightly on Smitty, finally spoke with a soft smile. “I don’t hate it. Traveling sounds… freeing.”

Smitty glanced at him, then back at John. “You really think we can do this?”

John nodded. “No building to burn. No chains to hold us back. We rebuild not with bricks — but with heart. And we keep moving forward. Always.”

A silence swept over the group again, this time heavy with meaning.

Then Grizzy stood, his large frame rising with firm determination.

“Then let’s get packing.”

Cheers erupted — echoing across the ruins like a phoenix’s cry.

Laughter, chatter, movement. Plans began to form.

The ashes of yesterday were swept away by the energy of tomorrow.

And as they gathered their things, ready to head toward the unknown, one thing was clear:

The circus lived on.

The ruins of the old circus smolder in the backdrop.

Tools clatter, fabric rustles, and the golden light of dawn glows over the scene. Everyone is quietly working — hammering beams, hoisting up new fabric, setting up lanterns — but there’s a tension in the air.

They’re rebuilding the tent, but not the spirit.

John stands in the center, dusty coat still singed at the edges. He watches them — all of them.

Puffer leans heavily on crutches. Smitty stands close, a hand lingering at his back. Grizzy holds a hammer with no nails. Matt ties knots into ropes that don’t yet have a purpose. The others move, but aimlessly.

John quietly whispered to himself.

“…We’ll rebuild. We have to.”

Suddenly quietly — soft footsteps approached them.

A young girl steps forward from the crowd that had gathered around the place.

Just outside the gates, clutching a bucket of paint in trembling hands.

She doesn’t say a word, but John could see something, her eyes, filled with something close to hope.

Behind her, a man approaches. Then a woman. A few others.

Some of them were at the last show.

Others, John recognizes… 

They look guilty.

Nervous. Unsure.

But they stepped forward anyways.

The Man lowered his gaze not daring to look at Johns eyes.

“…I used to think… you people were something to laugh at.”

He paused, clutching the toolbelt he held with a firm grip.

“But I watched you run into that fire. And I realized you’re braver than I’ll ever be.”

“Can I help?”

Everyone is silent.

John blinks, stunned.

Grizzy exhales shakily.

Smitty stares, eyes wide behind his glasses.

John walks forward slowly and places his hand on the man’s shoulder.

Then he turns to the troupe — and smiles.

John starts humming a soft melody.

“You stumble through your days…”

The music begins faintly in the background, swelling like a heartbeat.

As John continues, more people start becoming for confident and walk forward. Some bring nails.

Some people hauls up canvas.

A group of kids start gathering diffrent kinds of fabrics for the Tent.

A few hands grab onto ropes with Matt.

Pezzy and Droid guide the paint-bucket girl with wide grins.

One protester-turned-helper wipes tears from his eyes as he lifts a wooden beam with Puffer.

“But you can leave it all behind…”

“And let your heart ignite…”

And suddenly — the entire troupe is moving.

The crowd is no longer the audience.

They are part of the show now — part of something new.

“Come alive, come alive!”

“Go and light your light, let it burn so bright!”

John laughed as he swung around a old Pole nearby.

“Let them see us. Let them join us.”

The big red tent shimmered under the golden glow of the setting sun, newly stitched, proudly raised, and filled with the sound of laughter, applause, and music.

Gone were the charred beams and the smell of smoke — replaced now by a roaring crowd, glittering lights, and the heartbeat of a second chance.

Inside, the performers soared once more.

Grizzy held up Pezzy in a dramatic lift, Pezzy flailing theatrically before launching into a chaotic tumble through colorful hoops, landing with flair as Droid clumsily tried to mimic him and ended up tangled in the ribbons — eliciting a roar of laughter from the audience.

Matt, regal in a deep purple coat trimmed with gold, spun with expert grace in a magic act alongside Smitty — who’d insisted on keeping his white hair wild and his fire-glasses on, even mid-performance.

The audience was captivated by his aerial twists, the silver shimmer of his costume, and the way he defied gravity — almost like he belonged up there, above it all.

Puffer stood tall near center ring, dressed in rich crimson and black, his voice booming as he guided the energy of the show.

He exchanged a glance with Smitty mid-spin — a grin breaking out on his face when Smitty stuck his tongue out playfully, before vanishing upward into the rigging.

Tyler and Tucker juggled fire at the sidelines, Fl0m flipped between trampolines while Yumi and Rectrixx wowed with sword-dancing illusions.

Soup tried to keep Fitz from climbing the scaffolding again, while Swagger pointed at him from the ring and cracked jokes with the crowd.

And John?

John stood at the edge of the ring, his eyes gleaming — not from firelight or spotlight, but from something deeper.

Pride. Relief. Love.

He tipped his hat, looking around at the crowd, at his family, as cheers echoed around them.

The dream had almost burned to ash.

But now — it was brighter than ever.

A family reborn in flame, dancing under stars.

And the show?

The show had only just begun.

A few nights after the grand reopening of the circus.

The crowd is packed, anticipation buzzing in the air.

The inside of the tent is cast in darkness.

A single spotlight hits the center ring then,

a voice.

(For better expierence i recommend listening to the Song "The Greatest Show" 🤓☝️)

John leaps slowly into the center of the Light, his voice soft and low.

“Ladies and gentlemen… this is the moment you’ve waited for…”

The crowd erupts in cheers.

A beat. Drums rumble in the distance like a heartbeat. The spotlight blinks out.

John voice was rising.

“Been searching in the dark… your sweat soaking through the floor…”

Suddenly lights blaze to life, fire rings ignite, and the beat kicks in.

John stands tall in his tailored black-and-gold ringmaster coat, hat tipped, eyes gleaming.

The music hits full force.

John starts fully singing.

“And buried in your bones there’s an ache that you can’t ignore…”

“Taking your breath, stealing your mind…”

“And all that was real is left behind…”

Behind him, performers erupt into motion.

Droid and Pezzy cartwheel across the ring.

Fitz balances atop Grizzy’s shoulders while Fl0m and Rectrixx flip through the air.

The crowd is alive.

John was now Firm almost commanding.

“Don’t fight it—it’s coming for ya, running at ya!”

“It’s only this moment—don’t care what comes after!”

Matt and Smitty swing down from above on silk ropes, flipping through air.

The spotlights follow them like comets.

"Your fever dream, can't you see it gettin' closer?"

John voice rang through the air as he watches Smitty fly past him midair.

“Just surrender 'cause you feel the feeling taking over”

"It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open"

Matt spins midair right opposite of Smitty. John grins at Matt, like he just won the biggest Prize.

“It's a preacher in the pulpit and your blind devotion”

"There's somethin' breakin' at the brick of every wall that's holdin"

John shouts to the crowd like a Winner.

“So tell me do you wanna goooo!”

The Crowd yells.

"YEAH"

Flames shoot from the stage edges.

Tyler and Tucker juggle blazing torches.

Soup and Swagger dive through hoops of fire, barely missing each other.

"Where it´s covered in all the colored lights"

"Where the runaways are running the night"

"Impossible comes true, its taking over you"

Everyone voice rang like a Melody through the air. 

"Oh! This is the greatest Show!"

John pride rises within. He spins around, hat held high, leading the beat with his cane.

The spotlight follows his every step.

“We light it up, we won't come down…”

"And the sun can't stop us now"

The entire group converges mid - ring —laughing, flipping, dancing, alive.

Puffer steps out of the Shadow, taking over the lead.

“Watchin' it come true, it's takin' over you…

“This is the greatest show!”

Lights burst into dazzling colors as Puffer takes center stage, dressed in a dark bluish coat with silver accents, confidence radiating from him.

The crowd roars.

Puffer voice was strong and firm.

“Colossal we come, these renegades in the ring”

Suddenly, from above — Smitty swings downward, leaping from the air and landing beside Puffer with a dramatic pose, sunglasses catching the light.

He grins at Puffer.

“Where the lost get found and we crown them the circus kings”

Everyone gathers behind them now.

Matt, Grizzy, Droid, Pezzy, Tyler, Eli, Rectrixx, Fl0m, Swagger, Soup, Fitz, Tucker — they

all fall into place, arms raised, voices joined.

“’Don't fight it, it's comin' for you, runnin' at ya”

“It's only this moment, don't care what comes after”

“It's blindin', outshinin' anything that you know"

"Just surrender 'cause you're calling and you wann go!"

Confetti explodes, spotlights spin across the roaring crowd, and in the middle — Puffer and Smitty, side by side, smiling wide.

"Where it´s covered in all the colored lights"

"Where the runaways are running the nights"

"Impossible comes true, intoxicating you"

The room explodes with Singing. 

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

Sweat gleams on every performer’s face, but they’re smiling, alive with joy.

The music soars as they leap back into the chorus.

"We light it up, we won´t come down"

"And the sun can´t stop us now" 

"Watching it come true, it´s taking over you"

"OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!" 

John carefully steps into the center of the light taking everyones attention.

The lights dim for a heartbeat. A hush falls.

John voice became softer, more emotional.

“It’s everything you ever want…”

Puffer eyes were soft, as he glances around the group. His new found Family.

“It’s everything you ever need…”

Smitty was right next to him, his voice filled with warmth.

“And it’s here right in front of you…”

Everyone just gathers toghther like a Family, close to eachother.

“This is where you wanna be…”

Theres a moment of stillness — then

a explosion of color, music swelling, lights roaring back.

“It’s everything you ever want…”

“It’s everything you ever need…”

“And it’s here right in front of you…”

John voice rises once more becoming stronger.

“This is where you wanna be!”

Now shoulder to shoulder with Puffer, John lifts his hat with a theatrical bow.

The spotlight splits, illuminating the two.

John stands high with Pride.

“This is where you wanna be!”

The beat pulses.

Lights flicker like fireworks.

Puffer, still bruised but glowing, twirls his cane and tosses it high — Smitty catches it midair above him with a wink before jumping down again next to Puffer.

"Where it´s covered in all the colored lights"

Puffer smiles at the crowd watching the children eyes sparkle with excitement, he takes a deep breath.

“Where the runaways are running the night”

Smitty Laughs happily. 

Grizzy and Droid dance around the center.

“Impossible comes true—it’s takin’ over you!”

Pezzy and Fl0m jump on the trampolines flying high into the air.

“this is the greatest show!”

Everyone moves with purpose now, choreographed chaos of stunts, flips, and color.

Swagger swings from a high bar, Rectrixx and Tyler dance below.

Tucker and Eli wave flaming batons across the sky.

Matt voice rang loud and clear, as he swings around the room like a free bird.

“We light it up, we won’t come down…”

Fitz throws a lighted up torch into the air before catching it twirling it around his hands easily.

“And the sun can’t stop us now!”

As the Show contiunes, The Crowd grows Bigger.

“Watching it come true — it’s takin’ over you!”

The last beat drops.

The cast freezes in one final pose — John’s arm stretched wide, Puffer and Smitty center, hands just barely brushing, everyone else behind them, smiling like the stars themselves came down to dance.

Just as the Crowd thought the Show ended.

The Lights explode in radiant colors — reds, blues, golds, all kinds of color.

The stage glows with even more life, spinning in rhythm with the music.

The troupe, John’s family, circles together, dancing, laughing, flipping, and twirling in sync.

Puffer jumps into the center twirling his hat throwing it into the Air as he once again took the Main Lead of the Show.

“This is the greatest show!”

Smitty catches his hat and throws it towards John, who jumps next to Puffer, catching his hat with a roguish smile, spinning it into the Air throwing it back to his true Owner.

Puffer catches it, bows dramatically, and slips it onto his own head as the others cheer.

"Where it´s covered in all the colored lights"

Droid and Pezzy launch off trampolines, flipping midair.

Fitz and Swagger ride in on stilts with glowing jackets.

Rectrixx and Tucker pull giant silk ribbons across the air, creating waves of shimmering light.

"Where the runaways are runnin the night"

Fl0m and Eli juggle fire alongside Tyler, spinning with grace.

Grizzy lifts Matt into the air in a graceful acrobatic move while laughing freely.

Smitty swings down on a silk rope, lands on his feet next to Puffer again — his face flushed with joy and the thrill of the moment.

Puffer ears are filled with Smittys laughter

“Impossible comes true”

"It´s taking over you"

Puffer stares at Smitty, who returned Puffers gaze.

Both slowly come eachother closer.

“We light it up, we won´t come down”

“And the walls can´t stop us now”

The music swells, and the entire group gathers behind them, clapping, stomping, spinning into the final chorus

"I´m watching it come true"

"I´ts taking over you"

Fireworks explode above the tent — bright, booming stars lighting up the night.

Puffer stares at Smittys eyes, breathless, full of heart.

They lock eyes for a long moment.

"Cause Everything you want is right infront of you"

"And you see the impossible is coming true"

"And the walls cant stop us now"

Then, Smitty pulls him by the collar and kisses him.

Slow. The group cheers louder, some whistling, some clapping.

Puffer’s arm wraps around Smitty’s waist as they both just ignored everything around them.

They pull away just slightly, foreheads touching, glowing under the final burst of light as the chorus echoes one last time

“THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

“THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

“THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

“THIS… IS… THE GREATEST… SHOW!!”

Finally lights fade on them holding each other, the cast beaming around them, and the tent alive with love.

Months later.

The circus has become more than just a performance — it’s a home.

A sanctuary for misfits, found family, and dreams made real.

The sun is setting, casting golden light over the edges of the vibrant tent as the group sits outside around a firepit, quiet for once.

Laughter floats softly through the air, but it’s not wild or chaotic.

It’s warm. Full. Peaceful.

Puffer stands a little off to the side, arms crossed with that rare gentle smile on his face.

Smitty is tucked next to him, the shorter man, still radiating with confidence was leaned against Puffer’s arm.

Smitty softly whispered to Puffer.

“You still owe me one. For almost dying, idiot.”

Puffer chuckles, tilting his head down to look at him.

“Would’ve done it again, shortstack.”

Smitty elbows him.“You can’t just flirt and traumatize me at the same time.”

He just grins.“Worked though, didn’t it?”

Not far away, Pezzy’s laughter rings out.

“—NO, Droid, you cannot just wear three jackets at once and call it fashion!”

Droid, whos exactly wearing that.“Too late! I’m a trendsetter now.”

Pezzy was the same height as Smitty but had twice the chaos inside him — snatches the top jacket off and bolts.

Droid immediately chases after him.

“PEZZY GIVE IT BACK—THAT WAS LIMITED EDITION!”

They tumble into a heap together just beyond the firelight, laughing breathlessly.

Droid lands half on top of Pezzy, their laughter slowing.

Pezzy looks up at him, cheeks flushed from running.

“You’re heavy, dude.”

Droid just grins.

“Guess you shoulda run faster then.”

Pezzy’s grin softens.

They both go quiet for a beat, their faces close.

Then Droid leans down, just barely, and Pezzy meets him halfway.

Behind them, someone whistles — probably Grizzy — and the others burst out in cheers.

“About time.” Smitty huffes.

“Ten bucks says they’ll pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow.”

“Twenty says they’re dating and still denying it.”

Puffer Smirks "Bet."

The fire crackles.

The group laughs, leaning into each other.

Matt’s got his arm around Eli talking about something Stupid, Fl0m and Swagger share a drink, Fitz is telling some exaggerated story while Tyler and Rectrixx argue over some stupid Thing.

John sits at the edge, watching them all.

He smiles — small, quiet, but full.

Then he looks up at the night sky and tips his hat once more.

John just mutters to himself.

“From now on.”

As the Fire slowly crept to an end, everyone gathered back into the Tent.

John stands in the center of the room, dusty coat still singed at the edges.

He watches them — all of them.

Smitty smiling gently at Puffer, Pezzy tossing bolts at Droid who’s balancing on a barrel, Matt handing out ropes, Grizzy checking lights with Fitz.

He breathes in deep, overwhelmed, Memories of past Events flooding his mind.

John exhales through his nose before slowly raising his hands, reaching into the sky for something that wasn’t there.

“You stumble through your days…”

“Got your head hung low…”

“Your sky’s a shade of grey…”

Everyone glances at him, surprised by his sudden action.

His voice grows stronger as he walks through them, helping, picking up a plank, fixing a light.

His eyes shimmer with regret and pride.

“But you can leave it all behind…”

“And let your heart ignite…”

“’Cause the world becomes a fantasy…”

The others begin to smile. Matt is the first to join in throwing a arm around John shoulder.

“And you’re more than you could ever be…”

Lanterns burst alight, colorful flags unfurl.

Smitty and Pezzy look at eachother before smiling as they bounce in from the side, joining the action, while Droid tumbles and cartwheels behind them, tossing sparkles in the air.

“And you know you can’t go back again to the world that you were livin’ in…”

“‘Cause you’re dreaming with your eyes wide open…”

The Scene switches to another Day, Another Show performance.

As the troupe dances and sings, the crowd watches with wide eyes.

One child starts clapping. Then another. Then the whole tent is full of claps and cheers.

People rise from their seats, dancing.

The freaks are no longer other — they are inspiring.

The crowd joins the singing.

“Come alive, come alive!”

“Go and light your light, let it burn so bright!”

Smitty and Puffer, standing near the edge of the stage, watching the crowd — Smitty whispers mostly to himself.

“They’re not scared of us anymore…”

Puffer just smiles as he slides his arm around his waist pulling him closer to him.

“No. They see us now.”

The wind rustled softly across the field, where once ash had settled like snow, is now, vibrant colors bloomed tent  that stood tall again, not as grand or gold-trimmed as the first, but held together by effort, laughter, tears, and the hands of strangers who had become family.

The fire had taken much, but it had not taken them.

John dream, once driven by ambition, had reshaped itself. The circus wasn’t about being seen anymore — it was about being together.

He turned to the group around him — his family.

Grizzy, organizing acts, clipboard in hand, still the quiet pillar holding many together.

Matt, with a rope slung over his shoulder, laughing with Eli, mischief always close behind.

Pezzy and Droid, now inseparable, clowning around with the kids who had come to watch them, paint on their faces, joy in their steps.

Tyler, Fl0m, Rectrixx, Swagger, Fitz, Tucker, Soup — all of them rebuilding and reinventing the dream together, every one of them finding a new piece of themselves in the process.

And then there was Smitty, standing by the tent entrance, sunglasses tilted up just enough to show his emeralds eyes as he smiled at the man beside him.

Puffer.

Still bandaged in places but he was alive and standing strong.

He gently reached down, linking pinkies with Smitty.

A promise without words.

One they had written across the pain and love that they witnessed and almost lost.

They werent just people. They were Freaks. Dreamers. Survivors.

As the lights danced and the laughter echoed across the stars, John stood on the sidelines and whispered to himself, smiling with all the weight gone from his shoulders.

“Finally…Welcome Home..”

The air was warm, filled with soft music, sawdust, and the echo of laughter.

The Tent — patched, colorful, and full of soul — stood proud against the dusk sky.

It wasn’t just a circus anymore. It was home.

Their Home.

After everything they’d lost, they had rebuilt — not just a tent, but trust, hope, and something deeper.

John stood off to the side, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched the Stars in the Dark Night Sky.

His dream, once shining and selfish, had found its real light in the people who had carried it further than he ever could have imagined.

Across the ring, Smitty stood with his arms loosely wrapped around Puffer’s Neck, the two swaying ever so slightly to the fading music.

Puffer leaned back into him with a tired, dreamy smile.

“Still think I’m a stuck-up, rich idiot?” Puffer whispered with a teasing grin.

Smitty rolled his eyes and replied just as quietly, “Only on Wednesdays.”

Then he pulled Puffer closer down to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “But I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Not even for a solo act.”

They both laughed — not loud, but full. Whole. Warm.

And as the lights sparkled in the air, it was like the fire had never touched them — only tempered them, turned ash into gold.

Nearby, Pezzy and Droid were tangled in some half-choreographed, half-chaotic dance routine on the floor.

Pezzy stumbled and nearly tripped, only for Droid to catch him dramatically and dip him with a proud grin.

“See?” Droid said smugly. “I am a professional.”

“You’re an idiot,” Pezzy snorted, flushed from laughter, cheeks red.

But his hand didn’t let go of Droid’s even when they stood straight again.

Their fingers laced together, matching energies in perfect, untamable harmony.

They had gone from background chaos to spotlight-worthy, side by side.

The rest of the group — Grizzy, Matt, Eli, Fl0m, Swagger, Fitz, Tucker, Soup, Rectrixx, Tyler — all shared knowing glances, snickering to themselves even throwing some silent comments around.

And John, watching it all, eyes glistening with unshed tears, finally whispered into the twilight.

“This was the dream. All along. Mother.”

No one heard it but the stars.

But the stars… they twinkled back.

The night show had ended, but none of them were ready to sleep.

Grizzy, Puffer, Pezzy, and Droid had snuck away from the fading crowd and the after-show chaos, climbing onto the edge of the stage with dangling legs and half-finished drinks in hand.

Sparkling lemonade for Pezzy, something suspiciously bubbly for Droid, and water for Grizzy, because someone had to keep them grounded.

“Hard to believe,” Grizzy said, breaking the silence, his voice low and steady. “We actually made it.”

Puffer exhaled, leaning back on his hands.

His injuries were mostly healed now — scars hidden under sleeves, but the weight still lingered. “Barely.”

“Still counts,” Pezzy chirped, then elbowed Droid who was dozing with his head half on Pezzy’s shoulder. “Tell him he’s a hero or something.”

“I would,” Droid muttered without lifting his head, “but if Puffer gets any more heroic, he’ll try to fly or walk through another fire. And I like my friends not-smoked.”

Puffer snorted. “Fair.”

Grizzy smiled softly, eyes flicking over each of them. “You all carried this place when it almost broke apart. You didn’t give up. That means something.”

“Means we’re idiots,” Pezzy said, then added more gently, “But like… the kind of idiots who don’t leave each other behind.”

They went quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of life around them — laughter in the distance, faint music, the flutter of flags above the tent.

It was peace, the kind they hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Grizzy reached out and gave Puffer’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “You did good.”

Puffer blinked, a little caught off guard, before nodding. “Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Droid finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, before we get all teary — who wants to go sneak snacks from the food cart before Eli locks it?”

Pezzy immediately stood. “Absolutely.”

Grizzy chuckled, standing too, and Puffer followed, slower, with a content smile.

 As they wandered off together — laughter in their step, stars overhead — it was clear

They weren’t just part of the show.

They were family.

The crowd had long since gone, their cheers now echoes in the fabric of the tent.

The night was still, golden bulbs above casting soft light across the empty stage.

Smitty stood at the center, slowly spinning a ring between his fingers, lost in thought.

Matt approached first, steps light, almost cautious. “You still do that when you’re thinking,” he said, nodding at the ring.

Smitty smiled faintly. “Helps me not punch someone.”

Matt chuckled. “Progress.”

They stood quietly for a second, until the sound of footsteps behind them broke the moment. John entered, looking… softer than usual.

Less ringleader, more man.

He stopped a few paces away, hands in his coat pockets. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You never do,” Smitty said dryly, but his tone lacked venom.

John looked between them, eyes resting on Matt a moment longer. “You two were the first to believe in me. I know I ruined things for a while… but you still stayed.”

Matt stepped closer, shaking his head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You just forgot the ‘why’ for a second. But we remembered.”

Smitty folded his arms, eyes scanning the stage — this place that had nearly gone up in flames, this place that held every scar and joy they’d lived. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

John breathed out, barely a laugh. “Yeah. Somehow.”

Then, slowly, he extended his hand.

Matt stepped forward without hesitation, gripping it tight.

Smitty hesitated — just for a second — then reached out and slapped his hand on top of theirs.

“Don’t make it weird,” Smitty muttered, but he was smiling.

“No promises,” John said, grinning.

The Trio erupted in Laughter.

And for a while, the three just stood there — not as ringmaster and performers, but as Friends, Brothers, Family. As the foundation of something that had once been a dream and was now, somehow, still standing.

The curtains closed.

But the show?

The show would never end.