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At age four, Richard wanted nothing more than to conquer the hoops his mother spoke of so fondly. They called to him like a siren's song, tempting and deceivingly simple, promising success and triumph if he just gave it a go. He stared at wooden hoops where they dangled promisingly from the red and white swirl of the tent roof, and his heart swelled with an eager sense to prove himself.

He could do it. No, he would do it. And he would do it all by himself, at that.

As he cautiously toed his way into the room, eyeing the spots of sunset gold light that poured through the tent's flimsy window flap like honey, an image of his mother's face came to mind. Not her face as it would be now, her eyes ablaze at the sight of him approaching the hoops unsupervised. No, he didn't want to spend time focusing on the anger and fear that would blister in her eyes as she reproached him, the way her jaw would clench with each finished sentence. He thought of her in the story she told him, the story about love, his parents, and of course, the hoops.

·

It had started with a performance on a dreary day just North of Chicago. His father had been only a boy himself, his pocket jingling with the change he'd gotten as a fourteenth birthday present and a boyish grin spread across his face. He was going to see the circus. It had been in town for two days before his birthday, and now on the circus's last day in town, he had his just enough savings and birthday money to finally see the tricks and wonders he'd longed for. He had just turned onto the street leading towards the grand tent he heard it. Or, should he say, her.

She was about his age, maybe a year younger, and he could clearly make out her slumped form through the entrance to a tent that had been tucked away almost out of sight.

She let out a whimper, and as he scanned around her his eyes caught on the two wooden hoops, dangerous high and swinging wildly. She had fallen from them. Without a second thought, he sprinted towards her.

"Hey!" He called, and as her tear filled gaze snapped fiercely to him, his breath caught. They were the most unbelievable blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"What are you doing here?" She bit severely, and he was snapped out of his thoughts by the sheer strength that radiated form her, even as she lay crumpled and desperately clutching at her ankle. "Audience members go to the main tent! This is our rehearsal space!"

"I'm sorry I didn't…" He trailed off when he noticed her hands were shaking, "Um, do you need help with that? Your ankle, I mean. My God-Mother is a nurse and I've sprained my own ankle a couple of times...not that yours is necessarily strained! I mean, I wouldn't know unless I had a look at it…" He mumbled, and a flush rose to his cheeks as he realised he had been babbling.

A pause hung heavy in the air for a moment, before being shatter by what had to be the loveliest sound he'd ever heard. She was laughing. Whether it was at him, or somehow with him, though he was doubted it was the latter, he found he didn't care.

"You're really red you know." She teased, and his face grew hotter, "But," she continued quickly, and whilst her tone had lost the startled anger of earlier, yet the caution of it remained. "If you could help…I'd really appreciate it."

So he told her to stay still whilst he sprinted the block back to his ramshackle apartment and then pushed himself even faster to get back to her.

He was redder than a tomato sweating like a pig by the time he'd reached her again, his chest heaving with the desperate breaths he took. But, as he saw the relief flood her eyes as he made his way back to her, his godmother's first aid kit now in hand, he realised he didn't care in the slightest.

He hadn't gotten around to seeing the circus perform that day, he would eventually tell his son. But he'd met her, he'd met his future wife, and the truest love he'd ever know. When the father would tell this story to his son, his boyish grin would return, and he would say it had been of the best days of his life.

·

It was Richard's favourite story, and despite everything that would happen to the boy himself as he grew, his favourite story it would always remain. It was this story that ran through his mind as he did he best to shove the portable stairs to the hoops, sweat dripping down his forehead as he struggled with his childlike strength. But soon they were close enough, and as he raced up the stairs, his legs pounding with each step, he saw a flash of his mother on those very same hoops. She was always twirling, dipping and twisting, her movements smooth as water and sure as all else. Though she had eventually transitioned into trapeze, he always loved watching her on the hoops. Seeing the ease at which she performed, he figured it couldn't be too hard for him to do so too.

He had been wrong.

It was only a second after he'd thrown himself towards the hoops, he feet flying from the safety of the steps into empty air, that he realised his mistake. The hoops weren't designed for someone as small as him, and as quickly as he'd touched the rings, his pudgy fingers grasping at it desperately, he'd slipped from them, and began the long descent onto the hard cold floor.

He didn't remember an impact.

·

From the moment his vision went dark in the fall to ground below, to the moment they flicked open again, it felt to Richard like no time had passed. Though, he reasoned, blinking as he realised he was back in his room, some time must have. It was dark outside the window, the kind of darkness that comes only with the dead of night, and his wrist hurt something awful.

A voice to his left cleared his throat, and he looked over dazedly to meet his mother's eyes.

Oh he was in for it.

"So," she spoke slowly, and Richard cringed, "You decided to try the rings for yourself?"

He tried to hide his face under his blanket.

"That's not working on me this time, Richard." She snapped harshly, almost hysterically, and he burrowed deeper into the soft fabric. "I don't care how long you give me the doe eyes or play your little hide and seek games to try and win me over. This time it is not going to work."

He curled the blanket tighter in his fists. He was waiting for her tell announce his punishment, no more acrobat training for one, though that would probably happen regardless with the ache in his wrist, and she'd take away his bed time story privileges.

Now that, he though gloomily, would really be the worst.

But the punishments didn't come, instead all he heard was a quiet, heartbreaking, "You scared me so much."

He peeked his head out from under the blankets, and his heart squeezed at the sight of his mother. Her head and drooped to her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. She was crying.

"Ma-"

"I caught you, you know." She breathed shakily, not lifting her head yet, "I walked in and saw you slip from the rings. I thought I wouldn't be fast enough to catch you. I thought I'd have to watch…"

She didn't continue, only shaking her head and pressing her palms firmly against her closed eyes. When his vision started to blur Richard realised he was starting to cry too.

The sound of it made her look up sharply, and next thing he knew she was crawling in bed beside him and he was wrapped so tightly in her arms he thought he'd never escape. He couldn't image ever wanting to.

"I'm s-s-sorry," He blubbered, and her arms tightened.

He pressed his face into the side of her neck, his tears mixing with her own, "I know, little Robin." She cooed, her voice still shaky. "But please, promise me, you won't ever do something like that again."

He nearly nodded, nearly agreed without a beat, but in the end he couldn't help himself, "I ju-just wanted to be like you. Remember, from the st-story? Where you were on the hoops all by yourself and you met Papa and you ended up in love." His rushed words barely made sense through his tears, but she understood them regardless.

"Oh baby, your Papa didn't fall in love because I was on the hoops by myself," she cooed, rubbing his back soothingly, "We fell in love because I asked for help."

He would forget the words almost as quickly as he heard them, but, when he did remember, not quite fifteen years later, they would change his life irrevocably.

NOTES

So I'll try and update once a week! Chapter two should be out by February 18th :)