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Guest: Same. Poor boy.

Al: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it!


After his mother left Mick didn't stay in the house, but he didn't go to work on the farm like she had suggested either. It was too hot for manual labor, and – if he were being completely honest – Mick didn't really care enough to do it. Besides, the circus had rolled into town earlier that week, and he wanted to get a good look at the fire jugglers.

It sounded stupid, but he couldn't help it. Watching them was his guilty pleasure. The infatuation had started when he was a kid. One of his only good memories with his parents was at the circus; they'd brought him there for his tenth birthday, and Mick had instantly fallen in love with the fire jugglers. The flames were absolutely stunning, the way the jugglers twirled them around expertly without getting a single singe on their bodies. The scene had been utterly captivating, and Mick had just wanted to stay there, watching the jugglers play with fire forever. Hell, he wanted to play with fire.

Ever since that night Mick had been completely obsessed with the flames. He wanted nothing more than to be near fire, just to watch it. Maybe even touch it… Except the latter was out for obvious reasons, which was kind of annoying. How could something so beautiful be so deadly? It was mind blowing, really.

So, whenever the circus rolled into town, Mick did his best to sneak away and get a look at the jugglers. It didn't happen as often as he would have liked, because his mom was pretty obsessed with making him work on the farm and his dad…Well, he didn't like to think about him much. But occasionally, like that night, he managed to get away.

He never stayed long, and he didn't waste time with any of the other acts of the circus. (They were all pretty dumb anyway.) He just snuck into the jugglers' tent and snuck out. Just a quick peak so no one ever caught on to him. Just a few moments where didn't have to worry about everything his mom wanted him to do or…everything he didn't like to think about with his dad. Nothing but big, beautiful, orange flames…

The circus wasn't too far from the Rory farm, just a few blocks down the road. Which meant it only took Mick maybe two minutes to walk there. He was glad for that. Mick really hated putting in effort for things. It was exhausting.

Once he had gotten there, Mick quickly found the jugglers' tent. (They pretty much always set up in the same place.) He slipped inside as quietly as he could manage and hid behind a crate full of the jugglers' supplies. (Costumes, sticks, matches, etc.) There were about eight jugglers – four women and men each – gathered at the center of the room, practicing their act for the upcoming performances and show times.

It didn't take Mick long to get utterly lost in the flames. The jugglers twirled their fiery sticks around, spinning them so fast that Mick almost couldn't see any movement at all. His eyes trailed along with the flames' routines, gazing wistfully as the jugglers tossed the sticks back and forth between themselves, taking on two, three, or even four or five of them at a time. He would have watched them all night without so much as blinking had he not been interrupted.

But naturally, he was ripped out of his daze by a daunting, unexpected voice from behind him. "Hey, kid, you're not supposed to be here."

Mick jumped and whirled around, heart pounding in his chest. He blinked, his head a bit fuzzy after staring at the fire for – how long had it been? A minute? Two?

There was a guy in front of him, arms folded over his chest like he thought he was the boss of everyone around him, even though he couldn't have been more than sixteen. Raven hair, as dark as the shadows that covered the ground at night, was being pushed back by the bandana he wore on his forehead. Dark, piercing brown eyes scanned Mick over like a machine. His pants rode a bit low, leaving his waistline to be very noticeable. The guy's biceps were bulging too, Mick noticed.

"…Who are you calling kid," Mick said, trying to act as though he hadn't been caught off guard. Where had this guy even come from? "You're only, like, three years older than me."

The guy lowered his arms, and Mick felt as though he'd been hit in the gut. (And he knew very well what that felt like.) When the other kid moved he'd given Mick a clear view of his abdomen – since he wasn't wearing a shirt for whatever reason – which was totally ripped. He looked like a teenage version of Chuck Norris if he were a little shorter and a lot skinnier.

The kid stared at him with those dagger like eyes of his, and Mick couldn't help looking down at the ground – belatedly he noticed he wasn't wearing shoes either. "Who are you?" the guy asked. "How did you get in here?"

"Through the door, duh," Mick said. But as soon as he looked up and locked eyes with the other guy, his stomach turned into a pretzel. He wasn't sure what it was. Something about those eyes and…and the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt…

The guy rolled his eyes, not looking very amused with the younger boy. "Okay, smart ass," he hissed. Then, he settled those sharp eyes on him, and Mick was fairly certain his lungs were collapsing. "You didn't answer my first question. Who are you?"

For a moment, Mick had trouble thinking of something snarky to say. The other boy was…distracting to say the least. Mick shook his head, trying to focus. "Why should I tell you?"

"I don't have time for this," the guy grumbled under his breath. Mick got the idea he was starting to get on his nerves. (It was funny, sort of, the way Mick seemed to have a talent for pissing people off.) "Look, you can stay for now. Just don't touch anything, alright?"

The guy stalked past him, getting Mick's heart to jump start like a track racer. He wasn't sure why he did it, but, in a hurry, he said, "Mick."

The word got the other boy to stop in his tracks. He glanced back without turning around completely, an eyebrow perched upwards in a way that completely ruined Mick's gut. "My name," Mick told him, and he hated that he stuttered a bit. "It's Mick…"

Slowly, a smirk formed on the other boy's lips, and Mick's gut decided to give up and off itself. (He may have even stumbled a bit, much to his own dismay.) "Daniel," the guy said. Then, he walked off, heading towards the other fire jugglers at the center of the room, leaving Mick to lean against the crate. The younger boy let out a heavy breath of air. What the hell?


Yeeaah...I know. This is, like, a million years late... Hopefully it was worth the wait though! And hopefully you don't hate me for taking so long to update or for saying this: updates may get super slow because I want to try to focus on my original content again, since my last week of classes is coming up. Please don't hate me for all that! *nervous laughter*

Anyway, that's all for now! Toodles!

~ Elsie