A/N - Assigned prompts were American Horror Stories - Freaks, and a doll. Hope I did them justice. Read and hope you enjoy and my apologies for the late posting but as usual work tents to get in the way sometimes. 

He comes hidden behind a curtain of green smoke.

There’s no warning, just like the smoke that slithers through the cracks, unstoppable, undetectable until it’s already upon you and too late to get away.  How he picks his victims is unknown, but their fate, at the end of it all, is in his hands.

They are broken. Often rotten to the core. Their circumstances always very, but the outcome is the same. Freaks. Monsters. Sometimes in appearance, sometimes in their souls, and in not so rare occasions a bit of both. 

Tonight would not be the exception.

Junho feels it in his bones, in the stillness of the surroundings. A silent so unnatural that it makes every nerve in his body stand on end.  The sun is still out but it won’t be long before it sets, casting shadows over the camp, giving way to a night for which he cannot predict an ending.

There’s laugher coming from the giant red and white tent positioned at the center of the camp. It looks filthy, a bid torn and patch in places. Old and tatter like the world its part of. A world of freaks. Of the outcast and the unwanted. They all gathered within the cover it offers. Getting ready for a show that only a brave few would venture out to see.

Sad and bitter. This life they live. They came together because the world wouldn't accept them for their differences, yet they dress up and put on a show. Make spectacles of themselves, welcome the laughs and embrace the utter discuss and fascination with which they are look upon.

Sometimes, Junho wonders how much more he can take. How much more he can grow to hate himself.  How can he judge those that mock him when there's no one more disgusted with what he is then himself?

But tonight is not about him. At least not yet.

Everyone's gather under the tent, the tension almost palpable, suffocating, and Junho slips past unnoticed by all but their ring leader.  Chansung spares him a glance, a look of boredom and exasperation well hidden by the never ending patience by which Junho has come to know him.

Is all Junho needs to know that they share the same sentiment; this meeting is nothing more than a pointless waste of time. No amount of words or shared opinions would change the unavoidable outcome of this forsaken night.

 The circus of freaks would have a special guest amongst them in this night of hollows eve. Later on, when the curtains drop and the audience is gone. When they are ready to say good bye to another day The Prince would visit a select few. Before the night is through the lights would shine on one torture soul, the audience would give one last standing ovation and another freak would join his caravan of damn souls.

****

October 31st, 19XX.

He never meant to get caught.  In and out. Make it quick. Take what you need, nothing more.

It was his mistake. His erroneous assumption that the caravans would be empty tonight of all nights.

"Where did you find him?"

"Sneaking into Kwon's. Poor thing has no clue what he was getting into."

"Of all the places... did he take anything?"

"Nothing really there to take."

“Does Kwon-“

“He’s out. Probably won't be back until morning.”

"Good. I don't have the energy to deal with him right now. Hey, kid."

The man was talking to him now. Looking at him closely. Examining his features. His face. Junho never meant to get caught, least of all by men like these. There was something about them. Something fierce, foreign. They weren't like the ones Junho was used to encountering in dark alleys or isolated streets. He could get away from those. Had done so one time too many.

But now he was frozen, knees against the rough ground. Fist clenched on his sides. Unsure of what would happen next.

"What's your name kid?"

The one that spoke was gentler then the one who caught him in the act. Junho had been dragged out then, his resistance only earning him a rough treatment. One he knew he earned, yet resented all the same.

"Your name."

The man with the gentler features repeated and Junho came to attention, clenching his teeth. He didn't have much to his name, and what little he had, had been dumped on the floor feet away from him. But what he had in abundance was pride, and he held on to it now. Head held high, eyes staring back at the man in defiance.

"What's the point of learning my name? Get on with whatever it is you are going to do already."

"You are quite shameless for someone who was just caught trying to steal from us."  The man lower himself now, eyes leveled with Junho's. "I'm sure you know who we are. But do you have a clue of what we are capable of?"

He knew who they were. Heard the whispers in town. Saw the flyers posted in walls and street poles. Traveling freak show. He didn't much care for any of it. Only thinking of the possibilities. The big crowds coming out to see the expectable. He has never been proud of what he does, but pride doesn't feed you or gives you shelter.

He never took more than what he need it. Just enough to get by. Yet his hopes had been crushed when he had found the place empty, isolated. Just a few lights coming from the caravans where they live.

He almost turned back. Settling for whatever he could scraped off the streets, but hunger makes a man reckless. Bold.

As to what they could do...

"Nothing you can do can be worse then what I've dealt with." He found himself saying. Eyes still fixed on the man in front of him. "So go ahead... do your worse."

To his surprise the man in front of him smile, examining Junho as if it was the first time he saw him. Really saw him.

“What do you think Chansung?” The man spoke, getting up and facing Junho’s captor, who simply shrugged in response. Already bored with the situation.

“He’s pretty for a boy. Malnourished and filthy, but not a complete lost.”

“We could set him up with Wooyoung. His act could use a little spice.”

“Wooyoung is best on his own.”

“Fine. Hands off your toy. I get it, but still.”

“Taec…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

His attention was back on Junho now, a hand extended in front of him. It took a moment for Junho to realize it was meant for him.

“Are you going to tell me your name kid?”

He remained quiet. Defiant.

“Fine. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?” The man nodded, taking a step back and Junho took the opportunity to get on his feet.

“When was the last time you had something to eat?”

A meal for his name. Junho couldn't really find any fault with the proposal. It wasn't much. A sliced of tough bread and a warm bowl of soup, but to Junho it was more than he could had hoped so.

“What is it that you want?”

He finally ask. Stomach full, mind clearer. The man had been watching him eat, not saying a word. Junho couldn't helped but be wary. This. This kindnesses he was been offer. It was never cheap. Never free. And this place, this world he had walked into, was something Junho had never experienced before.

“Your name. A deal is a deal.”    

“Junho.”

“Junho? No last name?”

“None I wanted to keep.”

“Now, are you going to tell me what you really want?”

He had been waiting for it. For the man to put a price to the meal he had just had. Kindness always came with strings attach and Junho wonder how much of his pride he would have to let go off in exchange for bread and a bowl of soup. There was a part of him that knew. That sense the way the man had been looking at him the entire night. That follow the eyes that examine every inch of Junho's features, every swipe of his tongue over his lips. Junho had an idea of what the man wanted, and he found it that he wouldn't mind.  

"I want to offer you a place to stay. A way out."

Yet Junho’s intuition had not always been the most accurate.

There were many a time in Junho's life, short as it was, were the world had seem a little brighter. Were the bruises faded and he was given a glimpse of what could possibly be. Those moments never lasted. Junho knew that. He had been fooled one to many times. He couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the man in front of him.

"So you make it your business to go around town recruiting low lives for your road side show?"

There was no point on staying longer than he need it. No point of entertaining such a ridiculous request.

"I don't know what you think I am, but I'm sorry to inform you that whatever it is, I'm not it."

He bow, wishing he could at least pay for the food, but the few coins he did have, he would need.

"We have a lot more in common then you make think.” The voice was barely a whisper, yet Junho stopped. Not facing the man but taking in every word.

“We know hunger. Anger. Desperation. We see the world for what it is, learned to survive. We are not together because we like each other, but because we have a bigger chance of making it together. There was a point in time that I didn’t have anywhere to go home to, no roof over my head… A lot of us felt that way as well.”

“Don't pretend to understand how it feels to be in my shoes.” Venom drip from every word, but Junho held back feelings of regret. You don't show weakness. Always put up a front.

“And you don't be so self-center to think you are the only that's had it bad in this world. You don't need to answer right now. We have one last show tomorrow night before we move on to the next town, I’ll be expecting your answer by then.”

The man didn't wait for an answer, and a part of Junho, a part he had hoped would never again surface, was screaming at him to stop him.

“Hey-“

“It’s Taec.”

"Taec.” Junho repeated, liking the way the name easily rolled off his tongue. “There’s one thing… one thing I want to know... How come there's no show tonight. I mean..."

"Hollow's Eve." Taec’s smile was bitter, forced, and Junho couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more. Something he wasn't getting. A joke he wasn't in on.

"You see Junho... Freaks don't perform in Hollow's Eve."

****

"That's nothing but carney lore. A up tale meant to with your mind.”

Sometimes Junho envies the young ones. They have what he'll never get back. Time. Years. An opportunity to turn things around. To make something of the ty hand they've been dealt.

"What proof do we even have? You are scare of some made up two-face freak? You are going to let some fantasy bull get in the way of us getting pay on the busiest night of the year?!"

And sometimes he's truly glad he's not that naïve. That stupid. That oblivious and self-center.

“Maybe is best not to.”

A more reasonable voice, the rare presence of a female in this congregation of filth and testosterones. Fei’s voice is soft, gentle. She rarely speaks her mind, rarely says a word, but there is something about the day that has everyone on edge, cautious and uncertain, and even the meek and quite feel the need to let their voices be heard. 

“The town is in an uproar with all the killings. They are looking for a culprit and we are easy target. Violating the curfew tonight may not be the best of ideas.”

“And what do you supposed we do? Coward and give them reason to blame us? I say we perform tonight. Show them we are not scare”

Jia’s not as quite. Not as considerate. The second head of the Siamese twins, the circus latest headliners. Where Fei is reasonable and considerate Jia is blunt and cruelly honest. Her words sink in and a few give shouts of agreement. They are not scare. They won’t coward.

They are fools as far as Junho is concern.

“The town’s witch hunt is not the reason why performing tonight is a bad idea.”

Seulong’s voice is deep and low, but it resonates wisdom and nonchalance. He doesn’t look up as he speaks, the set of cards he constantly shuffles in his hands have all his attention. If you look close enough you can almost see how quickly his hands move, how he slips the cards out of thin air, adding it to the pile or taking them away as he pleases. A con artist. Not just with actions but with words, yet not even his persuasive nature can turn things around tonight.

“Back to this. Stupid. Superstitions. We don't owe respect to some made up ghost. What we need to do is put up a show and get pay, get out of this forsaken place before this townies find a way to pin this on one of us.”

Is JB the one that riles them up this time. The louder voice out of the three young acrobats that recently joined them. Junho just watches them from the sidelines, there's no point on arguing a lost case. No point of trying to explain the hesitation of the few when the many already overruled all other options. 

"Children."

The one that speaks is not someone they expect and silence falls, heavy and palpable as all eyes go to the boy, barely noticeable next to his much bigger companion.  Junho glances at Wooyoung, really sees him, something he doesn't get to do often. 

He's almost ordinary, dress in rags and lose fitting garments, but Junho knows better. He's seen him at his best, dress in skin tight cloths decorated with jewels, glitter and feathers, his face made up and prettier than any girl. During those times, when the stage is his and the lights shine bright, when Chansung's over possessiveness cannot reach him, Wooyoung commands the attention. All eyes on him. Impossible to look away. During those times Junho thinks Wooyoung looks the most beautiful, yet the most miserable.

“Freaks don't perform in Hollow’s eve, not out of respect but fear. Fear of things your minuscule minds don't have the ability to comprehend”

Silence follows his words, and some avoid Wooyoung's glare. They are scare. Unsure of what to believe. Some stand behind JB, they want to work. They want to get pay.

Some are uncertain, unsure, and Junho wants to ask what's the point? There's no stopping the storm that's coming. There's no running, no hiding. They were doomed from the second they stepped under the tent, from the minute they check the lights and set the stage.

****

December 20^th, 19XX

Snow stuck to the ground. Filthy. Slippery. Mounts of dirty ice push against the side of the road, yet despite the cold people still came out. Huddle in small groups, curious and elated for the show they've been promised.  

Things were different now. Life wasn't any easier but it was less lonely. It was a different town. A different time. Fewer faces under the same old tent where he was given bread, soup, and a way out. The same tent where he know dresses up, and puts up a show. The same tent where he had slowly, very slowly and at his own pace, learned to cope.

He was young, new to the life, indifferent to the world. The scars on his soul still fresh, but the smiles where more frequent, the weight on his shoulders much easier to bare. There was a plate of food on the table each day. A warm bed to sleep in every night. And there was Taec…

“You know we have a show to get ready for?”

He had learnt to recognize the deep voice, got used to the stealthy way in which he moved. Everything about Taecyeon was unexpected. His actions, his words, his boldness. He was the one thing Junho couldn't get used to. The one thing that still unsettled him in more ways than he was willing to admit.

“You have to get ready for a show. I gotta put on a red nose and make animal balloons for spoil brats.”

“I'm actually quite fond of that nose on you.” It was moments like this ones. Moments when Taecyeon would step closer. No regards for personal space. Moments when he would let himself get carry away, and do things that confused Junho in more ways than he could name. Moments when he could feel Taecyeon’s breath inches from his skin. Moments when his heart would race, pounding furiously against his chest. It was moments like this one that Junho wish he had the courage to close the distance.

But Taecyeon would always back away before he could make up his mind. Always put up the wall that kept Junho at an arm’s distance.

There were nights, rare and far between, but they were enough to keep Junho hoping. Those rare nights when the walls would come down, when Taecyeon would show just a little glimpse of what he kept within... They both scare and excited him.

“Why don’t you sing? On stage I mean. We can always use a new act, and I know that you can do it… I’ve heard you…”

Junho remained silent. Shrugging it off. He thought about it before. Dropped the clown custom and do something else, something different. The thoughts never when far.

“Maybe someday.”

“Would I be there to see it?

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

He never got an answer to that question. But what he did get answers for he wish he never had.

It was one of those nights. When Taecyeon came to him bare, no walls to keep him hidden.

Dark.

Everything was dark that night. From the moonless sky, to the eyes of the man that walked into his caravan. Dark like the blood that stain his clothes, that dripped from his hands.

“Taec… what did you…”

He didn’t get to ask his question. Didn’t get to say a word. Lips pressed roughly against his. Bruising. Hurting. But he couldn’t care. Let himself be carry away by it.

“I didn’t mean to… I never mean to do it...”

He kissed the words away. Kissed the remorse and the hurt. He had a million questions. Things he wanted to know. Things he wished he didn’t know. But he pushed it all back. Held it in. He let himself be used. Strip bare. Every inch of skin Taecyeon touch sizzled and burn, setting his entire body aflame.   

It wasn’t what he had imagined.

Yet it was so much more than he could had hope for.

****

“Who is this ghost…”

Junho is not sure who ask the question at first. The kids rarely spoke, JB always acting as their voice. He notices Jackson then, short and stalky the boy steps forward, ignoring the warning glance from his leader. Junho has notice him once or twice, dressed in tights and wowing the crowd with the way his body would seem to disregard gravity and fly over the audience. Now he sees him as a kid, curious and determined to make up his own mind. He half wishes he could spare him, but then again there's a lot of things he wishes he could do.

“You keep saying we should be scare, but of what?”

No one answers, and the silence that follows is heavy and suffocating.  Junho can't help but glance towards the ring leader, wondering if he would be the one to speak. Chansung knows better then most. The anguish and desperation. The overwhelming fear  that chills your bones and brings you to your knees. That renders you unable to flee, barely able to breathe.

“They call him the two face prince, and he used to be just another circus freak."

Is not Chansung that finally breaks the silence, and Junho is more stun at the fact that he had not noticed Nichkhun's presence until the very second the man’s words reached him. It unnerves him. The man and his actions. The way he carries himself. Never fully part of the group, yet always a constant presence.

 There’s rumors Junho's heard, things he's seen, and ones he'll never admit to been aware of . But Junho chooses ignorance over the alternative, and finds Nichkhun's eyes in the crowd. There’s no make-up today, except for the clownish grin that seems to be tattoo on his face rather than painted, and as he speaks Junho can't help but lose himself in the words. Can't help but think back to a time when he knew a man much like Nichkhun. To a time when he still was young. Naive. Back to another forsaken night of hollows eve.

****

October 31st, 19XX

He listened to Chansung's story from the sidelines, somewhat curious and fascinated. They had gathered back then as well, a different situation yet same circumstances, a little less fearful, but just as naive.

“He's name was Kim MinJun, and as the story goes he was the heir to a very wealthy family. A young but promising composer."

Kim MinJun, Junho came to learn, was a normal man, better off than most and as talented as he was miserable. Hunted by his own mind, driven insane.

"He had a problem... For as handsome and noble as he was, his second face was just as rotten and corrupt. It whispered to him at nights and spoke of things that should only be heard of in hell. It urge MinJun to do things, say things, horrible things, it drove him mad. Insane… there's a lot of theories, a lot of stories. Some say it was a mental illness… Others believe he truly was a freak, a monster with a second face hidden in the back of his head. But at the end, he was abandoned by his family, casted aside, sentenced to spend the rest of his life in a mental institution. A situation not much difference then many of ours.”

“So, what happened to him then?”

“He kill two men and escaped, found a gathering not much difference then ours, he became a performer. A road side freak.”

“He found a home then. Found a place he belong to?”

Folklore. Tales meant to scare the new kids, yet Junho still felt compelled to ask.

“Not everyone can change Junho.” Chansung paused, eyes lingering on Junho. “Some of us, kids like you, still have a chance to let go of the hurt and move forward. You still have the drive to try and keep trying. The world has not totally broken you… you still have the luxury to hope. But some, some are rotten. Scar by the world that betrayed them and made them into the monsters they have become.”

A chill ran through Junho’s spine, and without realizing it, without meaning to, his eyes found Taec as he turned his back to the crowd, walking away unnoticed by all but Junho as Chansung finished the rest of his story.

“Kim MinJun hung himself on a night of Hollow’s Eve… But there are whispers, those who say that his second face never truly die. And all nights like tonight, when the freaks come out to play, he visits them from the other side. Searching for rotten souls that like him, are corrupted, diseased, broken beyond repair.”

They all laugh. The tension slowly dissipating as Chansung jokes his way through the rest of the story. There’s no point on scaring them. No point of fighting the inevitable. They will perform tonight. Not because they want to, but because ultimately they don't have a choice. Ends meet had to be made.

“Chansung…”

There was something that was bothering him still, something he felt Chansung wasn't saying.

“Have you ever seen him, the prince?”

Chansung kept quite at first, his attention on the smaller boy sitting beside him. Wooyoung, rarely spoke, barely said a world. His relationship with Chansung was something Junho never pride on. He kept his distance, yet this time small sharp eyes stare right at Junho's, and it downed on him that the reason why Chansung didn't finish his story was because, perhaps, it wasn't his story to tell.

“I don't remember much, just smoke. Green smoke. Lots of it. I was young…and he look right pass me, but my mother… Her conscience wasn't clear, and he knew. Knew everything she did. He knew her sins. Lay them out for her.”

“And then…”

“Nothing.” He was slowly going back to his shelf, slowly going back to that place where Junho couldn't reach him. “No one would believe a kid. All they found was a doll you know, where my mom had fallen asleep there was nothing but a doll with empty eyes.”

****

They set the stage. the lights.

Got ready for a show only a brave few would venture out to see.

Junho watches the show from the sidelines. He would not be performing. Not tonight. Letting the young ones take the spotlight, as he falls back, watches all from the back.

Green fog slips in, mixing in, and Junho wonders if he’s the only one that notices. If he’s the only one that fills the sudden chill in the air.  The audience cheers and Junho tries not to think. Tries to focus.

The night is young and far from over. And as he looks at the stage, memorizing the faces of his comrade, he can’t help but wonder whose face he's looking at for the last time. 

With morning comes the aftermath of a night of restless sleep.

There’s voices outside. Murmurs. Whispers. Everyone getting ready to move on to the next town. Junho wonders around, no purpose behind his steps. Relief settling in when he spots Chansung and Wooyoung not far from where he is. They exchange a look. A knowing glance. And Junho wonders if they are the only ones that notice that there’s someone missing. Someone that Junho has yet to see.

They don’t find much in Nichkhun’s caravan when they clean the place. He owe very little. Said even less. There was nothing that stood out in the small space. Nothing but a doll with a painted smile on it’s face.

****

October 31s, 19XX

He was there for him.

Taecyeon knew it. Felt it from the second they turned off the lights and he stepped off stage. Junho slept soundly, unware. And Taecyeon wished he could do more. Wish he could had say more. Wish he could be around to see Junho shined in that stage. But he knew. Knew that what was coming he couldn’t escape.

He wasn’t alone. The prince stood in front of him. Tall and regal. Dress in black from head to toe. Porcelain skin almost shinning. His eyes dark pools that him in and saw right through his soul. Behind him, Taecyeon could see them. The restless souls of those who had joined him. Ghostly creatures that didn’t make a sound. Hovering around. Patiently waiting for the next freak to join their show.

Now…

Tell me dear one,

How did you come to be here?

“I committed a sin.”

Give us your sin.

“That’s easy, isn’t it? I was born.”