Barlyle Prompts

"Sorry, I-I thought you were Lettie."

Word Count: 775

Notes: Wow, this turned out angstier than I originally planned. Oh well :)

WARNING: Implied child neglect

The office door slammed shut behind him.

PT hissed a breath out, running his fingers through his hair. He kicked the chair to his desk across the room and swiped a hand across the wooden table, sending a glass to shatter against the far wall.

The look of hurt that had crossed Phillip's eyes didn't register to PT until he attempted to steady his breathing in his office, the utter silence leaving his conscience to berate his actions. It was unfair, he shouldn't be angry; he should have been apologizing to Phillip. But he couldn't do that yet, he needed to cool off.

What was the argument even about? PT couldn't even focus long enough to remember. All he could recall Phillip bringing up a issue that escalated into an argument, and he snapped.

"Go on, run back to your inheritance and parties and rich parents. It's not like we'll die without you!"

Those were his exact words.

The harsh impact of his retort had him sinking against the wall, head bowed in his forearms in shame. A bottle of whiskey would've been nice right about now.

He of all people shouldn't have thrown that remark in Phillip's face—not when he'd been on his own before, for a long time. It meant something to look after, to care for, to watch something thrive because of you. Especially when you had nothing, because it was such a beautiful feeling for something to need, depend on you.

But he just took that feeling away from Phillip.

The door creaked open, and he further buried his face into his arms.

"I'm going to apologize, Lettie, I promise, just give me a moment. I can't...I just can't face him right now."

His voice cracked and he hated himself in that moment, because no one gets to see Phineas Taylor Barnum in any other state than his normal carefree, energetic self.

"I've screwed up, haven't I?"

The other person was silent, and PT wasn't sure if he was thankful or wishing she would do away with the silence.

When the silence was finally broken, it was Phillip that spoke. "A little."

His head snapped up in surprise long enough to meet the blue eyes belonging to the man who leaned against the closed door, then bowed again as he stared at the fabric coating his arms. Heat flushed through his cheeks.

"Sorry, I—I thought you were Lettie."

"Obviously...." Phillip said, more of a mumble. Hesitantly, he made his way next to Barnum and allowed himself to slide down the wall with him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

P. T. winced. "You shouldn't be apologizing, Phil," he wrung his hands. "What I said was uncalled for and not true, it was a grab at words. I know that doesn't excuse it, I-I just wanted you to know, and—"

"Phin," Phillip interrupted, waving his hand. "Stop. Just stop....That hurt, PT," he admitted.

He remained silent.

"My whole life, I—" PT was surprised to hear Phillip's voice crack. "I've been swept aside, kept quiet, just there. Not really...doing anything. That kind of changed for a while, when I was writing plays, but I threw that away for the circus. For you."

That made PT feel worse. No matter, he deserved it.

"For once, I felt depended on. Like I made a difference."

Tears sprung to his eyes and his heart broke. The one thing he'd sworn to always be for the one he loved, he'd done the exact opposite for the one who'd been the best for him.

"Phillip, listen to me." The gentle strength of his voice startled him. Silent tears were actually running down the younger man's face. "This is your place. With me, with the circus, we're family and that'll never change. Have you met me? Have you seen how impulsive and rash I can be?"

A tiny swell of belief started to shine through the tears in Phillip's eyes.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, Phil, and how wrong I was."

Nothing else was said for a moment. PT was afraid he'd said the wrong thing, that he hadn't said enough, that Phillip would hate him forever, or worse: that Phillip wouldn't believe him. That was, until Phillip shifted his body and rested his head on PT's shoulder. He took that as his cue to envelop the younger man in his arms, and held him securely to his chest. Phillip's form shuddered in silent sobs.

"I love you," PT murmured softly through his hair, peppering little kisses on his scalp, "I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I know," Phillip hiccuped. "I know."