Phillip woke up, hungover, in a stranger's bed.

He couldn't remember how he got there, but feeling the pain in and between his legs he knew what had happened. He groaned, pulling himself up and out of the sheets, stretching and twisting, trying to shake himself awake. The shirt he was wearing last night hung loosely off his body, the crisp folds gone, replaced with wrinkles and creases. He rubbed his eyes, yawning. The door creaked open.

"Ah, the whore is awake," A deep voice made Phillip's eyes snap open. No. He remembered now. He'd slept with a man. A stranger. He shook the thoughts off as the man strode up to him, lifting Philip's chin up, tilting it from side to side, admiring the young man's face. Phillip pulled back.

"Where am I? What's going on?" He asked, eyes scanning the room. His eyes caught on a clock. It was already noon.

"Where am I, sir," The man snarled.

Phillip frowned, shaking his head in confusion.

The man's face flickered with rage and he lashed out, Philip's face taking the full force of the slap. Tears stung his eyes, but there was no way he would give this man the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"Yes, sir," He whispered.

"I can't hear you, slut."

Phillip forced himself to meet his eyes. "Yes, sir," He said a little louder.

The man sneered, and he kicked Phillip's trousers, which lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. "Put those on and get out, run back to your freak show, whore, I'm sure daddy Barnum will be pleased to see you."

At the mention of P.T., Phillip's throat closed up. He couldn't let Barnum see him like this. But he set his jaw and pulled on his trousers, and hurried out into the street.

After half an hour spent wandering around trying to get his bearings, Phillip found himself drawn to the bar. He wandered in, still in a daze, and took up his usual seat. He downed a pint and a half of beer, tears seeping out the corners of his eyes, too tired to wipe them away. He thought and thought and thought.

He couldn't get Barnum out his head. What would the showman think if he saw Philip like this? He'd be disappointed, ashamed. Phillip had been accepted into the circus family, a family of oddities for sure, but what would they think of him, a- a faggot. He stifled a sob and buried his face in his hands.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the door of the bar swing open, and the circus king himself walk in. Barnum looked around, and on seeing Phillip, strolled over to the playwright and took up the seat next to him.

"I thought I might find you here," The showman spoke, and Phillip glanced up, quickly wiping his tears away and clearing his throat. P.T.'s chocolate eyes searched Philip's blue ones, to the point where Phillip looked away in discomfort. Barnum seemed to remember something, and he pulled out a folded up newspaper from his pocket. He slammed it on the table, and Phillip frowned at the hint of aggression in the movement, before turning his eyes to the newspaper. He froze. He felt sick, and the blood rushed from his face. There, emblazoned on the front of the local newspaper, was his name:

'

"I agree, it could have been a more creative title," Barnum said. He was trying to joke, but he couldn't hide the sharp tone in his voice. He was disappointed. Phillip knew it.

Phillip's eyes brimmed with tears, and he blinked them away. The man he'd slept with had sold his story within hours of the morning. He must have gone to the news before Phillip had even woken up this morning. He felt a bubble of guilt, shame and rage push against his throat, bile rising, tasting blood. He shook his head and pushed the paper away, not daring to look in Barnum's eyes.

"I was drunk, P.T.. He took advantage of me," Phillip said.

"So it's true then." It wasn't a question.

Phillip found the courage to meet Barnum's eyes. To his surprise they weren't filled with anger, or sadness, or even disappointment. They were empty of emotion, blank and staring, and somehow that felt worse than if he'd just yelled.

"You know it was nothing, right? I was drunk, wasted in fact, I won't deny it, I'm ashamed of it but you have to understand-" Phillip stopped. "P.T.?" No response. "Phin, please," He felt the tears well up in his eyes again. "Please, just say something. Scream at me, shout, anything."

After a moment's silence, Barnum spoke. "What you do in your own time is your business Phillip," he began and Phillip crumbled inside. Barnum didn't care. He didn't care if Phillip was gay. And yet, it wasn't a relief, Phillip realised with a jolt. He wanted P.T. to care, to see him, to have those brown eyes gaze upon him like he was a novelty, to pay him attention. Phillip wanted him to say something, comment on his attraction to men, maybe relate- Wait. Phillip thought. He wanted Phineas to feel the same. The same. Oh, god,it made so much more sense now. He wanted Barnum, wanted him in the way he was taught he should only want a fine respectable woman. He wanted to feel P.T. love him, hold him, kiss him. Phillip closed his eyes.

"...keep it out of the circus's way, okay? What's a few more protestors, sure, but please try and not get involved in any more scandals, Phillip," Barnum was saying. Phillip nodded, distracted by his thoughts, and he hurried out, just wanting to be alone without P.T..

"You had better show up for rehearsals tomorrow, Phillip, we were all rather worried today," Phillip heard Barnum call as he rushed off. He could deal with Barnum later. First, his whole body filled with dread and fear, he had to face his parents.