Chapter Text
“You are going to be a handful.” Christian, the man who sat opposite of him, shot him a glance across the table. Hands folded neatly on the surface in front of him. Daniel can almost imagine the man having a twitch, he can see his knee moving, a bouncing leg. Not a good look for someone who’s trying to look all tough and intimidating. “And frankly, I don’t know if it’s a smart move to hire you.”
Daniel knows that it isn’t, all things considered, it might be the worst move of the man’s career. But he’s here, he’s bright-eyed after a good night’s sleep, and he’d made up his mind before he even parked his car a brisk ten-minute walk away from the designated car park.
He hadn’t wanted to seem eager. He had, however, buried his hands in his pockets when he’d stood around waiting for Christian, as not to betray the fact that they were trembling with anticipation.
“You won’t regret it. Scout’s honour.” the palm of his hand is quickly pressed against his chest. A big grin plastered on his face. Christian raises an eyebrow. Something tells him that the man is already regretting it, and they haven’t even put a pen to paper yet.
“Your duties are going to be simple - ” Toto. Yeah. Shit. Daniel had completely forgotten about the other man lurking in the corner of the room. Toto was a weirdo, just watching the conversation before him unfold with a look that was halfway between amused and incredibly annoyed. There was no way that he was ever going to learn how to read the man. “ - you’ll do whatever it is we need you to do.”
“One toe across the line, and you’re out. Understood?” Christian raises his eyebrow again. Maybe he never lowered it in the first place. Daniel really doesn’t know at this point. He simply reaches out, offers his hand to the English guy sitting on the opposite end. Ignores the German (or was it Austrian? Swiss possibly?) dude altogether. It’s quite possibly the dumbest career move he has ever done, and he hasn’t officially started yet.
“Got it. Crystal clear. Absolutely perfect.” the chair scrapes across the vinyl floor of the caravan as he stands up. Leaves a fleeting mark on the horrendous fake-wooden print underneath his feet. Toto’s features turn sour. Daniel hastily promises to clean it up sometimes. “So, when do I start?”
*
It had been raining when he decided that it was time to toss his life around. Droplets of water clinging to the windshield of his car, the downpour rattling on the roof. He’d left Australia when he was eighteen, hoping to find something in Europe. Something which scratched the itch of needing a purpose. Somewhere to belong, something he was good at.
Daniel had tried it all by now. Had hopped from job to job, from city to city. Forever stuck in the in between of all things that he thought would be entertaining, and all the things that he actually excelled at. Waiting tables had been fun, until he’d needed to carry the food across the restaurant. Doing bar work had been exciting for as long as he got to pick up chicks around closing time, not so much when the chicks in question always seemed to come with a jealous ex-boyfriend.
He’d not found a place in which he felt settled. And he was twenty-seven by now. Frankly, it was dangerously close to the pathetic zone.
So there he had been, sitting in his car when it came pouring down, just looking at the deserted road which would lead him out of this car park ahead. A final notice letter still in the envelope laying on the passenger seat. Another job which he’d flunked at. Another city to leave behind. He’d almost missed it, through the haze of the falling rain. Yellow and red streaked across a billboard, calling to him from the sidewalk.
The poster had featured painted smiling faces, and a picture of what seemed to be a man in flight. Leaping through the sky. Circus Horner and Wolff , it had read with a bold font. It had felt like something worthwhile, something worth spending the last of his savings on.
He barely had any fucking gas left in his tank. But there was a spark of interest which had set his curiosity alight, and a plan forming in the back of his head.
Really, how hard could it even be to get accepted into the circus?
The answer to that question had been ‘apparently, very hard.’ Christian had at first refused to see him. Daniel had needed to come back a full three times, at various different times, to even get close enough to the man to get him to hear him out.
“At this point, maybe you should just give up, mate.” a stranger was leaning against one of the white caravans which stood close to the tent. He was young, far younger than Daniel, with hair that would have been curly, if it wasn’t being weighted down by the rain. The other didn’t look miserable, standing there while the never-repenting downpour soaked through his jacket. Perhaps that was just a really good jacket. Daniel should definitely look into buying one of those. “They haven’t hired anyone new in like, I don’t know, years now?”
“Then it’s just time for a new perspective. Something fresh.”
The stranger had introduced himself as Lando. To be more specific, he had introduced himself as Lando Norris, a first generation circus performer. Daniel hadn’t had the heart to tell him that such an introduction simply reeked of bullshit. Lando had apparently read it in his eyes anyway. “What? We all have to start somewhere. Someone has to be the first, otherwise there won’t be a second generation.”
So, Christian and Toto had hired him, and Lando had simply bumped his shoulder. A shit-eating grin on full display as he motioned with his hands, forcing him into the direction of a specific caravan plastered with stickers advertising the circus. “Sounds like we’re going to be partners for a while.” another bump against the shoulder as Lando guided him into the caravan. “Since I was here first. I get the top bunk! It was already mine to begin with, anyway.”
He’d gotten a job, possibly a new friend, a roof of sorts over his head. Not bad for a single afternoon of barely any work.
That had basically been where the relaxing had ended for him, truth be told.
*
“What do you mean, you have never watched the show?” Esteban is giving him an odd look, as if the Frenchman has any right to look at him like that when he’s the one just casually putting his foot onto his own shoulder. He’s stretching, Daniel knows that, of course he does, he isn’t stupid or anything. He just doesn’t understand why Esteban needs to stretch while making small talk with him.
As if it’s natural for the human body to be able to do stuff like that? As if it’s natural for him to see such things up close and personal.
“I kinda came here on a whim. It was written in the stars, man.” he shrugs as he wipes down yet another table. Toto had instructed him to get the tent clean before noon. He was five minutes out and three tables shy of being done. “Didn’t have time to see a full show. I was kinda busy with trying to get Christian to talk to me.”
Esteban laughs, bends backwards until he’s looking back up at Daniel from between his own legs. Freak.
He shouldn’t be mean to the other, not even in his own thoughts. Outside of Lando, Esteban had been the first person who had been kind to him here. Welcoming, even. Aside from the whole body-made-of-stretched-out-bubblegum business, the guy was actually pretty okay. Not cool, but okay .
“Horner gets like that, at times. It’s the stress. Toto is nicer, though.” somehow, Daniel feels like the other is taking the piss. “The both of them look serious and stern, until you figure out they’re just trying to do the right thing. They want to keep us together. Want the circus to survive.”
Daniel can’t imagine this not surviving. Can’t imagine a world where the magic of the circus tent has vanished into memory. He remembers his parents taking him out to see a show, a different circus, different acts, but still, the same atmosphere had hung around the tent in Perth that day too. Daniel had been amazed, had pretended to be a tightrope walker for a few days after.
He had stopped when his knees had gotten bruised, and when his mother called him inside for dinner.
“Okay people, let’s go!” the tent is filling up with people, more and more faces he does not yet know the name of walking in. Some head straight to the ring, other’s take a seat. Lando quickly helps him clean the final few tables in silence. Toto claps his hands, demands attention with ease. “It’s Friday, so we’re preparing for the weekend. Final rehearsal is later today. You know the drill.”
“You want to watch them warm up and practice?” Lando slips into the seat next to him, puts his feet up on the table, which wobbles unsteadily from the pressure. Lando seems like he already belongs. As if he has already become one with the red fabric of the chairs, as if he was truly born here. “We don’t have much to do anyway, but you can always head back to the trailer, if you want? Get some rest before the big show.”
Daniel has never been less tired before in his life.
“Nah mate, I’m good. I wanna see what I’m getting myself into.” it’s ease, with which he crosses his arms, leans back to make himself comfortable. “Besides, Esteban looked kinda mad when I said I hadn’t seen a show of you guys before. Can’t make everyone mad at me, not on the first day.”
Lando laughs, looks up at him as if he’s hung the moon or some shit. Doesn’t tell him that they will, doesn’t tell him that it takes trust to get close to people. Daniel rubs his palms on the fabric of his jeans. Tries to stop them from sweating.
He sees Esteban, talking to a guy he hasn’t met yet. It’s surprising to him, how they’re all wearing sweatpants and tank tops, an odd one wears an old band shirt which has Daniel questioning their music tastes. They all look comfortable, at ease, in the light of day which filters through the yellow and red fabric of the tent. It bounces off the wooden floor of the ring. Daniel loves the atmosphere.
“That’s Mick.” Lando answers the question he hadn’t even asked in the first place. Gives his shoulder a nudge to get his attention. Mick looks strong, muscles flexing in his bare shoulders as the blond man leans down to touch his own toes. “He’s a third or fourth generation. His father was a legend, we don’t ask, Mick tells us when he’s ready. It’s a respect thing, Danny. He’s a trapeze artist, and he’s really good. Like, really good . I think Horner cried from joy when Mick said he wanted to keep performing with us.”
“Mick performs together with Lance - ” Lando points into the direction of another guy. Lance, who stared off into the distance with a sour look as he stretched in silence, didn’t seem to notice him. Lando waved anyway. “ - His father owns the biggest circus school in North America. The rumour is that he pays Toto to have Lance work here. I don’t know if it’s true, I don’t want to know, actually. But they’re good together. They never let each other fall.”
Daniel watches the three of them, moving toward one another, leaning against one another for support as they stretch some more. He pretends he doesn’t notice that Esteban and Lance wear matching shirts, just as he pretends not to notice that Mick keeps a hand firmly on Esteban’s shoulder at all times. It’s just none of his business, is it now?
“Our ringleader is Lewis. He’s the one over there.” once again, Lando is pointing at someone. Daniel had met Lewis briefly the previous evening, the other had complimented him on his tattoos. He’d been too wrapped up in things to even consider introducing himself. “Lewis used to be a trapeze artist, until the thing happened. We don’t talk about the thing, we don’t ask about the thing. Anyway, Toto adores him. We all do. So after he ended his career on the trapeze, they kept him as the ringleader. He’s fun, gets the crowd along. Hypes us all up.”
“Those two are Yuki and Pierre. The ones dressed in white and blue? They always wear those colours, it’s cute in a creepy way. They don’t really have an act together, but they always perform at the same time. Pierre is a fire performer, so he uses a lot of flames in his act. Yuki is a knife thrower. They’re insane, but they’re great to hang out with.”
Lando once again waves, beams when Yuki sees it and waves back.
There are a few people left, most of them sitting around like they are. Lando carefully introduces them to him from the safety of their own little corner. There’s Valtteri, who always drags around swords, sometimes swallows them too. Lando tells him that Valtteri is nice, Daniel highly doubts it with a profession like that.
Carlos and Charles are equestrians. They don’t usually train in the ring, but they always come and watch to show support. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Lando has a crush on Carlos. Even Daniel can figure that out from the way the other’s eyes light up when he talks about the other man.
“And then you have our aerial artists.” Daniel doesn’t want to ask what the difference is between trapeze and aerial arts. Just swallows the question down while nodding. As if he understands that kinda shit. “Checo is over there, he comes from a circus family, too. They have two kids, they’re so cute. Checo works together with Max, they have this act together that everyone calls ‘Flying Bulls’. No clue how they picked that name, but it stuck, I guess?”
Daniel notices that Checo’s partner isn’t here yet. The other man standing around at the edge of the ring, talking to, who Daniel assumes must be, his wife. Messing up the hair of a young boy who surely must be the man’s son.
“And what do you do?” he leans over to Lando, pokes his side playfully with his fingertip. “The same as you, idiot. Nothing worthwhile, yet.”
*
Lewis goes through the motions with them all, tells the performers to smile, connect with the audience. He even goes as far as to point at Daniel with a wide smile of his own. Tells the crew to pretend that Daniel alone fills all of the surrounding seats. They have to dazzle him, capture his attention to the point where he’s unable to look away.
Daniel doesn’t object, but he feels like it would take very little to get him truly wrapped up in the display of strength before him.
For some reason, Yuki is doing rounds at the edge of the ring on a unicycle, juggling knives while he’s at it. The energy in the room is like that of a firecracker. Daniel absolutely adores it beyond reason.
“Lance, stop looking like you hate being here.” Lewis claps his hands, glances at the man who’s currently hanging upside down from the trapeze. There’s a net spun a couple of feet above the ground. Daniel doesn’t think it would be able to support the other’s weight if he did end up falling. Lance seems even less impressed. Swinging lazily with his knees hooked around the bar, hands stretched out towards the earth, his tank top defying gravity as it stays tucked in to the man’s pants with sheer determination alone.
“It’s way too early for this.” the other retorts, using his arms to bring his body into motion, swaying from left to right as if that’s a natural position for the man to be in. “It’s past noon.” Lewis seems unimpressed, claps his hands again. It feels different this time around. More urgent, more serious.
The atmosphere shifts. Lance pulls himself up, switches his position until he’s hanging on the bar by his hands, rather than his knees. The sway shifts, too. Becomes more deliberate. He’s crossing half the distance of the tent within seconds. Daniel doesn’t even notice Mick when the other gets onto his own trapeze until the blond is already fully into his vision. Crossing the other distance of the tent while in the same position that Lance had been in a mere minute before.
He’s holding his breath, gripping into the fabric of his jeans without him really truly noticing. The net below really seems ridiculous. Really seems as if it wouldn’t be able to save them from anything.
Lance has his back turned to Mick, there’s no way that the other can see when to release his grip. The breath inside his lungs burns at this point. He can feel his hands getting even more clammy. There’s no way . Lance releases when his body is at the top of the axis, defies gravity for a single heartbeat while he soars through the open space of the tent. Daniel feels as if he’s going to be sick.
Mick’s fingers wrap themselves around the other’s wrists. Hold on to his partner with an apparent ease. There’s a moment where the both of them swing, where Mick holds up Lance as if the other weighs absolutely nothing. The both of them are laughing, Daniel finally allows himself to exhale.
“Good, nice and clean.” Lewis is laughing too when Lance is once more safe and sound sitting on his own bar. Kicking his legs as if the stunt had been absolutely mundane, rather than a thrilling display of trust and strength. Daniel finds himself clapping. He’s playing the part of the dazzled audience well .
“We’ll run it again later, I need you to focus on your facial expressions, though. You looked bored, and believe me, the audience will notice when you’re in the spotlight tonight.”
Lance sticks out his tongue. Lewis lets it slide.
Someone new gets into the tent. Walks up to the ring with a bored expression. Blond hair is ruffled, a slight stubble across his jaw displays an air of tiredness. Stranger walks straight up to Checo, puts an arm around the other’s shoulders as he chats away with Checo’s family.
“Is that Max? Checo’s partner?” he asks Lando before he can stop himself. He can’t really imagine the other being anyone else, not with the ease the two performers lean against one another. There’s trust there, too. Lando doesn’t even get a chance to answer, Christian’s voice booms through the tent. Bounces between the posts and the chairs. He sounds mad, or at the very least, simply unimpressed.
“Nice of you to join us, Max. You’re well aware that training starts at noon. You’re only thirty minutes late.” Max simply shrugs. He seems so unbothered by it that it’s borderline funny. Daniel bites on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. “I stretched in my trailer, don’t need to be here for that.”
Daniel is instantly obsessed with the guy’s accent. Loves the way it rumbles, loves the way it sounds harsh in the open space around them. His fingers twitch, nearly betray him to Lando, so he shoves them into the pocket of his hoodie.
Christian and Max bicker for a moment. No one seems to pay attention, maybe it’s nothing short of a regular occurrence. Even the two of them, who are wrapped up in an argument, don’t seem to pay it too much attention. Max barely graces their manager with a glance, keeps his eyes focused on the equipment in his hands as he gives it a few experimental tugs and prods. Christian is already back to replying to emails on his phone. Absolutely a regular occurrence, then.
Lando pulls him out of the tent after a few hours. Something about lunch and a few jobs which need to be done before the evening show. Max and Checo hadn’t gone up yet for practice, and Daniel only argues for a full five minutes with Lando that he wants to watch. He doesn’t win the battle, and is standing out again in the rain before he can try bickering again.
*
“Esteban! Get over here, your makeup is a mess!”
Lando is rushing around the back, chasing down performers with makeup brushes held in his hands as if they’re daggers. The atmosphere is electric, crackling like the air on a hot summers’ evening. There’s going to be lightning rolling over the hills, it’s all going to go up in flames.
The performers around him are all dressed in their show outfits. Suns down, thighs out, is apparently their motto. Daniel had worked at the checkout before this. Selling tickets to pimple faced teenagers and young families with the biggest smile on his features. He’d loved every second of it, but the checkout is now closed. The little tent now dark and abandoned. Lewis is already in the ring, hyping up the crowd.
He can hear the rumbling of the bass, even from backstage.
“First time?” Valtteri stands next to him, the Finn at least looks semi-decent in comparison to his co-workers. He wears pants that cover up something, even when his chest is bare, and he’s casually twirling a small dagger around between his fingers. “It gets easier. For most people.”
Daniel does his best not to be insulted by the remark. “I’m not most people. And I’m already loving it here.” he tries to defend, tries to channel the same determination that he had in childhood, when he’d somehow managed his way on top of the garden fence, balancing for a moment. He had believed that he was the best tightrope walker there had ever been in the world for a moment there, until gravity had pulled him back down, and he had tasted dirt.
Toto presses a finger against his earpiece, snaps his fingers to get Valtteri’s attention. Points towards the entrance of the tent. A cue for the other to get his ass ready. Toto doesn’t like delays, doesn’t do dillydallying. There’s little that Daniel can do aside from respect it.
“Have a good show - ” he claps the other man on the back. “ - Don’t choke. That’s just a mess when it comes to clean up.” Daniel doesn’t even notice Yuki and his blasted unicycle until the shorter man passes behind them, circling around them like a shark. “That’s what she said.” it sounds awful coming from the other’s mouth. It still makes Daniel laugh.
Someone is grabbing his hand, Lando’s pulling him around through the dark. The backstage area is treacherous, littered with props and cables alike. He says they can watch now, for a moment. “I have my mic, Horner will call us if he needs us, but for now, everything is set.”
They settle in at the corner, obscured from the audience's view. Hide in the shadows at the edge between the public and the performers. Esteban trails behind them, cranes his neck to take a peak at the stage from behind Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel lets him. “I love watching Valtteri.” Esteban whispers when the music drops, silence settling amid the dust. The anticipation of the crowd is like a pulled rubber band. About to snap, about to release. “He’s so cool, with his act.”
Lando takes the opportunity to add some more glitter to the contortionist’s cheek.
Valtteri captures the audience's attention perfectly. He manages to silence them with a single glance, manages to make them collectively hold their breath when just the right amount of forced anticipation. Daniel isn’t safe from it, either. He, too, watches with amazement as Valtteri bends his head backwards, ready to slide a sword down his esophagus. It’s fucking insane.
He’s sure that it’s a metaphor for something. Something cool about life, a display of divinity among ancient warriors, or other similar bullshit. He doesn’t really care, just thinks that it’s really fucking cool to watch.
They slip back to where they’re supposed to be when Lewis once more enters the ring, the roar of the crowd following them through the darkness. Daniel feels like he can fly. “That was amazing.” he’s shaking with excitement when he spots Valtteri. He truly is amazed by the feats he has seen so far from his new co-workers. “How does it feel? To be able to do that?”
Valtteri just raises an eyebrow at him, looks as if he himself is unimpressed with his abilities. “Like I need to fucking piss.” Esteban later tells him that Valtteri drinks an insane amount of water before every show, something about forcing his stomach to be lower, something about being able to put longer blades down his throat that way. It makes little sense to him, but he’s glad that Valtteri is being honest with him all the same.
“Come on, the bulls are about to go on.” Lando has taken hold of his hand again, still guides him. The other probably knows that Daniel wouldn’t be able to find anything in the darkness, not yet, he’s sure he’ll get there. “They’re our best act, at least that’s what people say. I think it’s bullshit, ha, bullshit, get it ? I think Carlos is way better, but you know, can’t convince the general public that they’re wrong.”
Daniel is being shoved down into a seat. Lando’s hand rests on his shoulder, keeping him seated. “Believe me, mate. You want to sit down for this.” Daniel can’t imagine what the other is even talking about, but doesn't put up a fight. Just sits there as he watches Lewis introduce the next act.
“We pride ourselves on the diversity of the performers that we have introduced to you all tonight - ” a few people in the crowd clap, Lewis lets the moment swell. Puts his foot on the edge of the ring, leans forward until he’s nearly leaning onto his own knee. “ - this next act is no different. These two men come from different backgrounds, different sides of the world, but they have one thing in common. They were both raised in the circus, and they’re both addicted to the thrill of their act. Together, they’re about to show you the very limit of human ability!”
The crowd roars. Even the teenagers, who had been making out at the back, stop eating face in favour of giving Lewis their full attention. A kid covers his eyes, presses his face into his mother’s side.
“It’s my absolute honour and utmost pleasure, to introduce you to our very own, Flying Bulls.” the audience eats it up, roars with excitement at the very moment Lewis spreads his arms and the lights in the tent go out. It’s dark. There’s no afternoon sun, which beams outside, casting an orange glow into the space. There’s nothing, nothing except the heavy weight of trapped humidity of too many people in a limited space. Nothing but the hunger and expectation.
There’s a faint glow which captures his attention, nothing bigger than a firefly for a single heartbeat, until it expands. Explodes into a spotlight beaming, the brightness of it set’s the entire tent ablaze.
Max is in the centre of the ring, his naked back turned to the audience. He’s standing in a hoop, a messiah nailed to the cross in the way the muscles of his back are tense. His head is bowed. He looks nearly holy underneath the singular light directed at him. Daniel nearly misses the golden star painted on his face, catches the flash of glitter on the other’s eyelids.
Music cues in, perfectly timed with the hoop slowly being lifted towards the top of the tent. There’s no safety net underneath him. Nothing but the wooden floor and a certain broken neck if he were to fall. Somehow, it’s even more thrilling like this. Someone in the audience screams, cuts through the electric air. His mouth has gone dry.
A second passes when Max reaches the top. He hasn’t moved yet, Daniel thinks that no one in the audience has either. He can see the tip of the other’s toes when they flex, he knows Max is readying himself for something. Can feel the swell of suspense among the viewers, they’re all watching the other as if he is really a god among men. Maybe he is. Daniel can’t be too sure.
Max falls backwards, and someone else screams.
He catches himself at the very last second, a leg curved around the hoop, gravity reduced to nothing but a myth as the metal shakes from the shock, the rope to which it’s connected sways. So does Max. Daniel can see his hair, fluffier than it’s looked all day. There’s a sliver of golden makeup running down his exposed legs, too. Max smiles, beams, as if he’s not defying all laws of physics from 30 feet up in the air.
Daniel watches in amazement as Max curves his free leg, points it out, shapes his body to something extreme. All the way up in the air, he looks divine. Lando squeezes his shoulder without a word, as if the other understands the complex range of emotions that Daniel is currently going through. Max bends his back some more, curves himself until his fingertips once more grace against the hoop.
Music swells, wraps all of them up in the hype of it. There’s movement at the very tip of the tent, Daniel catches it from the corner of his eye even when his focus is still firmly on Max. He doesn’t know where else he could possibly look. There’s nothing else left in the whole world, except for Max and the gold paint which curves up his legs and chest in delicate swirls.
Checo comes crashing down in a mess of fabric, a twirling body wrapped up in black silk. It must have been him who had moved at the top, but the surprise of a second performer draws a gasp from the crowd. He catches himself halfway, a few feet below Max, the two strings held tightly between his hands, it’s wrapped around his waist, and the bottom of it doesn’t touch the ground.
It’s clear that they’re supposed to tell a story in their movements. Darkness and light, good and evil, maybe they’re portraying star crossed lovers in the way they keep reaching for one another. Their fingertips always seem to miss one another by an inch. There’s a longing which is so clearly depicted in the way they’re drawn to one another. He nearly forgets about the fact they’re a dangerous height above the ground.
Max let’s go, and Checo catches him with ease.
Someone from the support staff pulls up the hoop. Makes it disappear from their view as all eyes are on the man dressed in nothing but white shorts and gold paint get a grip among the black silk. Max is a stranger there, wrapped up, tumbling alongside Checo. They’re moving around one another, Checo grabs his ankle, Daniel is still holding his breath.
He’s nearly had enough of the metaphor bullshit, but he can’t force himself to look away. His mouth is still dry, Max is still 30 feet up in the air, wrapped up in Checo’s arms.
“And here it comes.” Lando’s whispering into his ear, he’s ruining the moment in the same way that he’s adding to the suspense. Lando has probably seen this a thousand times before, he knows all the movements, knows when to hold his breath and when to exhale. Daniel envies him in a twisted way. “Watch.”
Checo releases, twirls, and twists until he’s a mere foot above the ground. He can see the heaving of the other man’s chest, can see the muscles moving as he gently lowers himself onto the wood of the ring, the last scrap of black fabric slides from his ankle. There is an intricate design of silver on his legs. Max has lowered himself too, the silk is wrapped around his thighs, the black clashes with the gold. He looks stunning.
It’s almost delicate, when the fabric gets lowered slowly. Max sinking down towards the ground with his knees bend and his thighs on full display. His chest is heaving, too. Daniel sees the slight tremor of working muscles in his arms. Hands reach out, fingers trail across Checo’s cheek. The man is still laying on his back on the ground, it feels like he’s watching something intimate.
It feels like he’s watching porn or some shit.
The hoop comes back down again at the moment Max untangles his legs from the silk. He steps past Checo, the way he moves reminds Daniel of a dancer. Of something graceful, something which seems sharp enough to cut still. Max’s fingers wrap around the metal at the same time Checo’s fingers wrap themselves around the man’s ankle. Great, the metaphors haven’t stopped yet.
Max is torn between the hoop and the man laying on the floor, Daniel can see it, the twist of emotions reflected on his features. He really sells the part well. Emotion cuts through the crowd. A child cries in the back. Checo pushes himself off the ground, tumbles past Max to reach the hoop as well. He can hear the cable whizzing, as the both of them are pulled up by the mechanics, the twirling of the pair of them makes the hoop spin, they reach 20 feet before the movement stops. Before Max wraps his legs around Checo’s hips. Daniel nearly screams when he catches sight of the man’s hand letting go.
Once more, the other is upside down. Except this time, he’s hanging on for dear life from his partner’s waist. The audience claps. Screams with joy as the lights are cut once again. Darkness settling over them like a heavy blanket. He can hear himself screaming along, clapping with a frantic need. Lando laughs at him, and he couldn’t even care less.
*
“Maxy!” he’s rushing towards the performer with a shit eating grin, the tent is nearly empty now, the crowd has left, and the only people inside are the employees. Some are doing their cooldown exercises, while others have already started cleaning the seating areas. “Holy shit, my man. That was amazing!”
It occurs to him that they haven’t been formally introduced only a second too late, when he has already crossed the space between them and has a hand resting on Max’s shoulder. The other looks at him as if he has two heads. Maybe that would be better, maybe that would give him a job that didn’t include picking up trash.
“That was very mediocre.” the other’s lips are a thin line, a furrow settling between his brows. There’s still some golden glitter clinging to his eyelids. “It wasn’t our best show.” Daniel can feel the way his muscles flex underneath his palm, can feel the strength the man has in his shoulder alone. He’s still in awe. “But it was fine, no one noticed my mistake on the hoop at the start of the set.”
Daniel is speechless, swallows down compliments. They don’t want to slip back into his throat, the muscles around his esophagus are too tight for that. “Well, I thought it was absolutely insane. And I mean that as a compliment.” Max shifts nervously underneath his touch, takes a step back to escape from it. There’s still sweat clinging to his brow. “You have shit eyes, then.”
“Or maybe you’re simply too hard on yourself.”
The other barks out a laugh. It sounds hollow. Daniel wants to hear him laugh in a way that’s true, in a way that doesn’t cut like one of Yuki’s flying knives. “Someone has to be, I’d end up dead if it isn’t perfect.”
*
Christian is on his ass for the rest of the weekend. The man keeps thinking of things for him to do, keeps pushing him into new directions behind the scenes. He’s learned a lot in these last few days. He’s watched Sebastian work on the mechanics for the floor. The wood is laid out on a setup which he’s able to retract to show the grass underneath. It’s easier that way to move, the other says, and it allows the two equestrians to show their skills without the horses having to run around on the unnatural and slippy surface.
He’s also learned that Lando snores, especially when he’s sleeping on his back, his arm dangling down from the bunk bed above him. He’s learned that Pierre can walk on his hands, and that Esteban loves scaring the new people by coming towards them like an imitation of that one girl from the ring in the dead of night. Daniel swears he didn’t scream when he saw a mess of limbs come towards him in the dark when he’d gone out for a piss. Charles keeps insisting that he had heard him from the other side of the campground.
“Do you like working with horses?” Daniel is leaning against the side of the caravan as he watches Carlos brush out the manes of a rather viscous looking mare. She’s beautiful, a deep colour black, but the animal scares him at the same time. There’s no need for her legs to look like they’re capable of splitting his skull if she truly wanted to. He’s just trying to make small talk to pass the time. Carlos indulges him.
“Do you like picking up the trash?” Spaniard doesn’t even give him a glance, just keeps petting the horse as if she’s loved by him. Daniel guesses that she is, it takes a bond or something like that to perform stunts on the back of a living animal. “No. But Horner won’t let me do anything else.” he doesn’t know what he would do, but that isn’t the point. “Horner is a smart man.”
Charles passes them, he’s sitting on the back of a horse which seems even taller than the one Carlos is currently working with. Daniel remembers his neighbour’s horses watching him from their pasture as a child. He can’t remember ever having seen ones which were simply as beautiful as the ones the circus works with, though.
“You ride?” it’s a genuine question. “No.” it’s an even more genuine answer.
The two of them force him to try it. Carlos leads out a pony, an actual honest to god pony. He feels ridiculous simply looking at the difference in height between their horses and his. “It’s so small.” the animal seems to take offence, as it shoves its head against his hip with enough force to make him stumble backwards for a moment. The equestrians only laugh. “Small but mighty, no? Come on, Daniel. Even Checo’s kids can ride cupcake.”
Of course, the animal who’s currently trying to bite his hand is called cupcake .
Cupcake hates him with a passion, dashes off the second he manages to sling a leg over the pony’s ass. He feels his self-respect running away faster than the horse’s legs ever could hope to carry him. It’s gone, buried, six feet under. Carlos laughs while he forces his own mare to follow, dashing after Daniel, who’s currently trying to cling on to for dear life.
“Are you sure we can’t turn cupcake into a stew or something?” he’s breathless when he slides off the pony’s back. Glad to have his feet back on solid earth. The grass is still wet, it darkens his vans. He wants to fall to his knees so badly right now. “Maybe some glue? I’m not picky.”
Charles punches his shoulder. Daniel isn’t even offended by it.
*
“ - and then he asked me to marry him.” Carola is sitting on the floor of the ring, the youngest Perez child sits on her lap as she plays with one of the glowing toys the circus sells to visitors. They’ve all gathered here, eating dinner as one big group. Come morning, the tent will have disappeared, and they will be heading to their next location. “It was actually very romantic.”
Checo, who’s actually called Sergio (no, Daniel hadn’t found out about this just this afternoon, that would be ridiculous) looks at his wife with a look of love. They’re fucking adorable, obviously very happy with their little family. Daniel can’t imagine what it’s like, to be so ingrained into a sense of belonging. Their son runs circles around them, chasing after Pierre, who’s keeping the child entertained.
“You’re not from the circus, are you?” he’s asking before he can even stop himself. His hands are buried in the sleeves of his sweater, a now empty plate balancing on his knee. “I’m sorry if that’s a rude thing to ask? Is it even rude? I don’t know, I’m not from here.”
Carola laughs, strokes her daughter’s hair. “No, I’m not. But Sergio is, and my children are too. I am very blessed to be accepted here, to be able to raise my children in the ring and have a family who watches over us all. God has blessed us.” she drops a pause, looks him up and down for a moment. “He will bless you, too, if you have good intentions.”
Daniel doesn’t know what that means. Swallows around nothing for a second. Plucks on a stray thread of his hoodie. He can feel some eyes on him, burning holes into his skin. He gets that it all has to do with trust, half these people put their lives into each other’s hands on the daily. The others put their livelihoods on their shoulders. It’s a complex dynamic, that much is clear.
They’re all trying to survive in a world that demands their services, yet looks down on them at the same time. It’s fucked, that much has become clear to him now.
“Most of us come from a family of performers.” Toto speaks from where he’s sitting. Pierre catches Sergio junior in his arms. The child screams with joy. “Most of us have not known a life outside the circus.” Daniel nods, doesn’t know what else to respond to this. “Others came here looking to show their skills, only a select few came here because they had nowhere else to go.”
He feels seen. Like a butterfly pinned to cork. There are needles piercing his skin, spreading him out to be on full display. Wandering eyes tear him apart, as if the group is deciding what to think of him. Daniel still smiles, puts on the mask of being unbothered by it all, he’s put on better performances in his life. “We usually don’t hire those who do, because they only bring trouble.” Christian finishes Toto’s train of thought. They do that a lot. It’s annoying.
“Give Daniel a break.” he hadn’t expected Max to speak on his behalf. He has his arms wrapped around his knees, a stern look on his features. The man never seems to be able to relax, not even when they’re all supposed to unwind after a show. “He’s a fucking idiot, but I don’t think he means any harm. And if he does, it’s on you for hiring him.”
The people around them fall silent for a moment. Lance whistles, Mick says something about that being his cue to go to bed. They all break apart, tuck away stories and tales away until next time. Toto and Horner bicker some more as they exit the tent.
It doesn’t take long for them to be the only two people left.
“Thanks, Maxy. For sticking up for me.” Daniel wonders if Max is going to leave, too. He hasn’t made any moves to exit. He just stands there, in the middle of the ring, looking up at the highest point of the tent. Daniel thinks that he’s probably wishing he was up there again. It must be amazing to be above the world, unbothered by the things going on below. He can see the flexing of the muscles in his calf as Max stretches to stand on his tiptoes.
“I didn’t do it for you.” his voice is cold again. Distant. Daniel wants to know what it would take for him to be let in. “I just enjoy annoying Christian.” Max doesn’t even look at him, just has his back turned as he stretches some more. Really, when does that man stop stretching? “He promised my dad that he would make me a star, they all hate my dad here, but they respect him too at times. Christian literally can’t kick me out at this point.”
Daniel thinks that there’s a story there, wants to hear it all, but Max simply walks away from him with a final flex of muscles in his shoulder. He doesn’t even tell him to turn off the lights. Daniel already knows.
*
Lando is an incredibly annoying travel partner. He sits next to Daniel in his car as they follow the trailers and caravans in front of them, singing along way too loud to whichever pop song he’s blasting over the aux. Lando holds out his plastic bottle as if it’s a microphone to Daniel ever so often, waits for him to start singing to the bottle cap. He never does.
He would have, probably, no, definitely, if he wasn’t so busy thinking about Max and the harrowing sadness which he’d been able to catch a glimpse of the night before. The way the other had talked about his dad, must be rough.
“Not a big fan of car karaoke?” Lando’s voice cuts through his thoughts, he has the window down, his hand sticking out, moving along with the wind. Daniel doesn’t tell him to take his legs off the dashboard. He’s far too glad for the other’s company. “Shame, I figured you were a diehard ABBA fan or something.”
“Then put on some ABBA, if you want me to sing.”
They pass the trip well after that, singing loudly. Something always pushed to the back of their mind. Lando tells him about his childhood dreams of becoming a magician after having seen one perform at a friend’s party when he was five years old. Daniel doesn’t tell him about the bruised knees and scraped hands from trying to balance himself. He thinks Lando would make a good magician.
*
Max is dangling from Mick’s grip, a few feet above the air, as the trapeze artist simply sways them through the open space. They’re not practising, simply entertaining little Sergio junior and Carlota who are staring up at them with wide eyes. Carlos is arguing with Lando in the corner, trying to get the other to eat a decent meal for once in his life.
“Thanks for your help this morning.” Sebastian leans against the chair in front of him. Watches with a special kind of fondness as Mick pretends to drop Max, causing the kids in the ring to scream with a mix of horror and delight. Daniel can feel the ache in his muscles, setting up the tent was a lot harder than he thought it would be. At least he knows he’s going to sleep well tonight, no matter how loudly Lando snores. “The soreness will pass, might take a day or two. It gets better, easier, the more you do it.”
The German doesn’t even look at Daniel, just keeps his eyes fixated on the display before him. Daniel wonders how Sebastian ended up here, wonders even more why he never left. He knows Seb has a degree in engineering, knows that the other could be some sort of technical hot-shot in the real world. This is the real world too, he tells himself with bitterness. Even when it feels as fragile as a bauble.
“You’re fitting in well.” Lewis is on the other side of him, a dazzling smile shot into his direction without regard. “I know that they don’t often bring in new people, and for the amount of complaining they do, you’ve actually been a great asset so far.”
It’s always the so far which stings. Daniel keeps pushing his fingers into the black and blue imprint of a bruise, keeps prodding at it to feel the dull ache of it radiating underneath his skin. He knows he hasn’t really shown himself yet, hasn’t really done his best to make the others believe that he’s one of them. He’s still the foreigner, the outside looking inwards. Except this time around, his accent and his tanned skin don’t help him get laid, they don’t make him feel special in the way he’s felt since he ran off to Europe with his tail between his legs.
“Maybe I could be a rodeo clown. Do you guys have those in European circuses? Or is that a strictly American thing?”
“Now you’re just pushing it, man.”
*
He gravitates towards Max, even when he really shouldn’t. He hangs around near the other when they’re all huddled backstage, listening to Lewis giving his speech to hype them all up before a show. Sebastian invites him to the top of the tent, shows him how to work the mechanics that raise and lower the trapezes and silks. Max looks even more divine from above.
Lando gets to do a gig as a clown, a trial on the Tuesday evening show. It’s a far cry from being a magician, but he gets to interact with Carlos as the other does a few stunts on the back of his mare. Daniel laughs the loudest in the whole crowd when Cupcake the pony dashes in wild circles with Lando sprawled out across the animal’s back. Lando is clearly loving it, though, if the spark of joy in his eyes is any indication.
Daniel catches him in his arms when he flings himself at him afterwards, adrenaline still clinging to him. They nearly fall to the floor. Max has the nerve to laugh in their faces for it.
He watches Pierre and Yuki perform for the first time when he stands next to Toto. He has seen them practising before, but Pierre never lights his flames when he does. Toto tells him that the man’s craft is called Poi, that there’s actually a name for the way Pierre makes the rope around him dance. The wicks at the end are set ablaze, Daniel can hear them moving through the air. Pierre makes the flames dance, twirls them around the two of them in the centre of the ring. Yuki laughs, beams up at his performance partner with such raw honesty that Daniel nearly feels like an intruder on a private moment.
Lewis never needs to tell those two to smile when they’re out on stage.
Pierre raises the fire above his head, casts shadows through the entire tent with the motion. The circles he draws around the two of them shift, go from small to large with every passing breath. It’s a dance in its own right. Yuki wraps his arms around Pierre’s waist. He has already thrown his knives, he’s just there to wrap up the act. Flames seem unable to touch the two of them, in the same way gravity seems unable to affect the artists who move up high. They’re all untouched by physics, not like the mere mortals watching.
Daniel congratulates them after their performance. He’s even able to draw a smile from Pierre when he spills excitement and adoration with ease. Even Max, who has been warming up next to them, seems pleased for his friends.
They lock Esteban in something which is hardly bigger than a bird’s cage, watch the poor guy squirm with his leg bend over his own neck, and that seems to conclude yet another show.
He’s been with them for a few weeks now, and while he can’t say that he feels like he truly belongs, he’s starting to become more comfortable with the people around him. It’s the longest he’s lasted at a job since he did that tour guide stint in Greece for a single summer. The looks of disapproval have started to fade, he’s even gotten into the habit of calling the tent the big top. Like a good little circus employee should.
They’re all sitting outside. A bonfire lit between them as the stars are sparkling overhead. It’s pleasant out, just warm enough to shed their coats. Dry enough not to have to worry about rain. The flames warm them, the conversation is flowing, and the cooler keeps the beers cool. Daniel couldn’t ask for much more.
“So, Daniel.” Christian gives him a glance as he sips from his beer. “Are you still as excited as you were the day you applied?” he knows that the other expected him to break. Knows that the other had hoped for him to. If only to shake him from the dream of working in the circus being something easy . He’s well aware by now that it’s hard work, long days and little sleep. He doesn’t think that he would want it any other way at this point.
“Even more so.” he swallows his drink. Finishes it swiftly. Lando hands him another one without question. “As excited as a toddler on Christmas morning, mate. Can’t wait to get my own act with you guys some day.” the performers laugh, he does too, even when he doesn’t know what he’s laughing for.
“You could be Europe’s first rodeo clown.” Lewis jokes, there’s no venom in his tone, but it stings all the same. “I think you could be a great one. We would need to get a bull first, of course, but maybe we can recruit Max for that in the meantime.” everyone laughs again, everyone, except for Max.
“I would kick him in the face and do more damage than your regular bull ever could.”
Daniel could pretend that Max was flirting with him, if it wasn’t for that damned frown still lingering on the other’s face. Maybe Lewis had a point, he would go to extreme lengths to entertain Max, but it would probably mean riling him up at the same time. “Ouchie, Max, buy me a drink first, before you threaten to bash my skull in.” it’s a lame joke, but it does taste a lot better accompanied by a beer.
Checo puts his hand on his shoulder, Daniel can feel the vibration as the other man laughs. “Careful now, Max really could do that if he wanted. Have you seen his legs? I’d choose one of the horses to kick me, over him.” Daniel knows Checo is right, but he also knows that he’s never shied away from a challenge.
“But I’d much rather have dear Maxy kissing me afterwards to take away the pain, than one of the horses. So that has to cancel each other out, doesn’t it?” he’s playing with more fire than Pierre has done in his entire life. It’s a dangerous road, the one he’s walking on right now. But he’s always been an idiot who’s just a bit too fond of pushing against the boundaries of safety.
The others don’t even come to his rescue when Max kicks at the leg of the chair on which he’s sitting. Causing the white plastic to fall away from underneath him.
He probably deserved that.