one-shot collection [multi-fandom]

Christmas Eve || Barlyle

It was Christmas Eve, and he had promised weeks ago that the tour would end in time for him to be home for Christmas. And yet, as darkness fell over the ever-busy city, descending like a thick blanket as crystal stars peeked out from behind the dark clouds spattering the sky, there was no sign of Phineas Taylor Barnum returning home to Phillip Bailey Carlyle.

Sitting on the steps of the old museum-turned-circus, Phillip stared out at the people mingling in the square. Some were hurrying home to friends and family, eager to be out of the cold. By the fountain a small group of children were having a snowball fight, desperate to make the most out of the last rays of light that kissed the tips of the surrounding buildings before being called inside for dinner. In front of Mrs Oliver's flower shop, a group of carollers sang Deck the Halls, one of his favourites. In the distance he could hear the last of the church bells ringing. Everything around him was picture perfect, except for one simple detail.

He was alone.

Sure, Phillip had Anne, WD, Charles, Jeremy, Constantine, Lettie, Fedor, and the rest of the circus troupe, but he didn't have him. And for that, it wasn't truly Christmas.

Maybe he was being overdramatic. Lettie said as much when she finally found him sitting on the front steps, shivering, and looking positively forlorn. With hushed words and encouraging smiles, she coaxed Phillip inside to help them put the last of the decorations on the tree, surrounded by his family.

~0~

Staring at the lights glinting amongst the branches, all Phillip could think was 'he promised he'd be here.' They had known each other less than a year, but something profound had blossomed between them. It was meant to be their first Christmas together. Yet, as Phillip stood among his family, Phineas achingly absent, he began to accept it wasn't.

Long after everyone had gone to bed, Phillip sat in the low candlelight backstage where the troupe had set up a lush pine tree decorated with paper animals, glass garlands and small candles perched precariously on the edge of branches, burning low. The filtered moonlight trickling through the gauzy curtains covering the tall windows behind the tree cast a long shadow over the rest of the room, the candles barely holding the darkness at bay. The garland draped over the tree made of glass beads helped scatter the light throughout the room, revealing a single tear slipping down his cheek as he felt his heart shattering.

Growing up, his parents had thrown large Christmas parties all while keeping Phillip up in his room with only a nanny to check that he was sleeping. Oh, how he had longed to join the other children laughing and playing in the snow, longed to stay up late and roast chestnuts over the fire while singing carols with his parents. Longed for a real Christmas.

But it was never to be.