Cirque Du Academy

Meeting's & Misunderstandings

Edited 19th July 2019

Sang's POV

Alarms weren't a necessity around here apparently, people where loud enough as it was at this time in the morning.

Their liveliness awoke me half an hour ago, now here I was hovering over my small worn brown table with a lukewarm cup of coffee between my palms. The caffeine was strong enough to raise the dead, and with this being my second cup I was finally regaining my humanity.

I was lost in thought when I realised we had just reached Charleston, this would be our home for the next week or so, depending on how well the tickets sold. Though, even then, our sales didn't always tell us how long our stay would be, Hendrick's decisions seemed random, because at times, even the good income wasn't enough to keep us for long and he'd have us move by the end of the week.

"Sing~ Song~! Get that sweet ass of your's out here."

I frowned at hearing the voice of the one and only Greg. He had been a part of the circus for over a year now, and he was just as evil as Hendricks and as vile as McCoy.

The poor table didn't deserve my anger, but I still slammed my cup on it before I stormed through my worn out trailer.

It wasn't anything special, but I had been calling it my home for the past 4 years. It's walls were a horrible shade of cream, that I had so desperately tried to cover up with multiple posters I had come across during my travels, and it wasn't fully furnished either, what little it had was mostly what came with it when I first got it, or the little bits I had been given by fellow performers.

I cringe at the creak of my trailer door as I pull it open to see the creepy dark haired Greg.

"It's Sang, you moron. What do you want?"

I saw anger flash through his eyes, before a satisfactory look overtook his features. A smirk resting on the thin lips that were surrounded by an unkempt goatee.

"I'd watch the way you speak to me, or I may just have to report you to the bosses."

I inwardly flinched at his threat. The little weasel had somehow managed to get on good terms with Hendricks and McCoy, that was probably the only reason why the idiot was still around, and since he was only getting closer with them as time passed, all I could do was remind myself that he could easily get me punished if I wasn't "respectful".

"Oh Greg! You wonderful goatee moron! What can I do for you today?"

My voice was sickly sweet and coated in more sarcasm then pancakes were coated in syrup by sugar-holics.

What can I say? I liked to poke the bear, even after warning myself of the possible consequences, it was worth the trouble. After all, it was bad enough that I had to deal with "respecting" Hendricks and McCoy, and their constant mistreatment against me and other performers. The thought of having to humour this menthol-smelling creep was far more then what I was capable of doing at the moment.

"I said watch it, Sing Song!"

He growled menacingly at me as he shamelessly trailed his eyes over my five-foot frame. I was grateful to the past me for the choice in sleepwear. My long tee and oversized pyjama bottoms wouldn't allow him to leer at what he so obviously tried to peek at.

"The workers are setting up already. Hendricks was a little disappointed with your last performance, he said it wasn't dangerous enough, so he wants you to finish breakfast and head straight to practice, said you should work on something better for the rest of the day."

I mentally groan at the glint in his eyes, he was enjoying the torture that would come from coming up with "something better", and the torture that was sure to follow when the bosses found out of my earlier disrespectful words towards him.