"Let me tell you the story, about what happens when a heart as cold as ice meets one made of gold." What happens to the things that nobody can remember? Are they forgotten? Did they mean anything at all? Did they even exist at some point? All his life, Connor has been told that he must forget. That he must let go and move on, and live the life he has been gifted with, even after the tragedy. But Connor doesn't want that. He keeps in mind the same series of noises over and over, every day, just to get by and to convince himself that it wasn't just a dream. That it happened. That it was real. That he was real. For the past ten years he has been moving from place to place, with barely any interest to accommodate himself. That is until he reaches that town... and meets him. Funny, how it works in the ways of the heart.

Mitch was a fan way before he got the job. Can he balance friendship with fandom? Can he remain professional without revealing his inner fangirl? Is that even possible?

you never quite know what's waiting for you behind that door

{fu·nam·bu·list: a tightrope walker/rope-dancer} Scott Hoying had been sitting in row 4, seat number 23, when he had been sure that his heart stopped beating. With his fingernails burrowed into his dark jeans and his lip between his teeth, he could do nothing but stare upwards - 50 feet above him- as the figure pranced along the high wire. The performer's body swayed to the melody around him, a stunning smile lighting up his entire face as he moved; his arms were thrown out to the sides, toes pointed, as he jumped along the tightrope. The massive tent expelled a blinding white light in the performer's direction, casting an ethereal glow upon his black-clad figure. On cue, the performer then quickly leaped forward, smile still intact, executing three of the most perfect front flips Scott had ever seen in his life. He thought the boy looked miraculous up there, and that was definitely an understatement. Though he was around same age as Scott himself, his way of performing showed experience and talent far beyond his years; the performer quite literally personified the music. It's sure that Scott was definitely the last person to be able to judge circus performers, as it wasn't exactly his area of expertise, but he knew passion when he saw it. Scott was certain that if he even attempted something of that calibre, he would probably start crying, if he didn't break his nose first.