Work Text:
Phillip was barely a year old when it happened. He doesn't remember it, but he does know that it happened. He's been told ever since that it was his fault. That he was an abomination and he would only ever be accepted if he hid it. He's been told ever since he was a year old that no one would ever love him if they ever found out. See, when Philip was just over a year old, he cried about having back pains all the time and he had strange, shiny, metallic golden spots on his back, just under his shoulder blades. So his parents took him to hospital. That's when everything started to go downhill for him.
William and Elizabeth Carlyle had hoped for a normal child, one they could raise to be the perfect upper class child that could carry on their dreams. The news they got from the hospital, shattered their hopes and dreams for little Phillip Carlyle.
“Mr and Mrs Carlyle, your son has a very rare condition called Alis Angelis. Its a birth deficiency I'm afraid, and it will be with him all his life as there is no known cure.”
“What is this Alis Angelis. What does this mean for our son!?”
“Its a condition that means his genetic code was created incorrectly in the womb, it means he will grow wings”
“WHAT?!”
“I apologise, Mr Carlyle, there is nothing we can do. He will have to live with it.”
“He can't grow up with wings! What will the others think of him?!”
“As this is a rare occurrence, Mrs Carlyle, and there is no known cure, we created wing binders for the children with this deficiency. He will need to be sized for it, and you will have to bring him in for adjustments every year. I am sorry, Mr and Mrs Carlyle, that there is not more we can do.”
“How could this happen to our darling child? How is there nothing you can do?! Our son is going to grow up a freak and you're telling me there's nothing you can do?!?”
“Mr Carlyle I must ask that you calm down. We are doing everything we can but as not much is known about this deficiency, there isn't much we can do. Once again I apologise. We will take the measurements for your son's wing binder once he begins to grow wings, which will probably be in a few weeks or so. Bring him in then and we will provide you with his binder and soothing creams for the pain.”
“So there's nothing that'll stop this?”
“No, Mrs Carlyle. I am sorry, but there is nothing to be done”
Phillip was never allowed the soothing creams, he was taken for his yearly fittings, but no more was said about it.
He was to ignore it and act like a normal child. The only time he was ever allowed to take his binder off was at night, and he had to put it on again before going downstairs in the morning as his parents didn't want to be reminded of their abnormal child. Phillip learned to savour the nights and grew up begging for the day to pass faster. If nothing could spare him from this then at least he'd be at peace with it at night. The older he got, the worse it got, he was barely 4 before the beatings started. His father was sick of having to think about his son's shining golden feathery wings, he wanted them gone.
His father tried everything, he beat him, scratched is wings, pulled his feathers out, anything to make his son learn that this was all his fault. He tried cutting them off with a kitchen knife once. He only stopped when Phil screamed so loud he almost alerted the neighbours. He was beaten for that too. Phil still has the jagged scars around the bottom of his wings where his father had hacked away at his wings.
It became normal. To have his father torturing him in an attempt to rid him of his wings. At first he thought his mother couldn't hear his screams. As he grew up. He learnt that his mother simply didn't care. He taught himself to fly, trying to run away. He threw himself off of things again and again and again until he no longer fell out of the sky. It caused him many harsh falls and snapped off feathers but he was determined to get away.
It took lots of effort and lots of pain, but he did it. He could fly. He was free. Or so he thought, the day he tried to escape by flying, his father caught him in a net and clipped his wings together with something that looked similar to a bear trap. He screamed in pain but received no reply, they left him screaming in the trap for 3 days. As he grew up and got used to the daily beatings, he noticed that the more cuts he got, and the more creative his father got with his attempts, the more his golden wings turned deep red. Stained red with blood his wings were now red, with little specks of gold peeking through.
By the time he was an adult, there was no more gold.
Phillip growing up and leaving home was the best thing that ever happened to him. Away from his parents and his abused life. He went back to the doctors one last time for a binder adjustment, the doctor gave him soothing cream with it for his pain. He never used it. He didn't deserve to.
It was his fault anyway. He became a moderately successful playwright and for the first time in his life, wasn't being beaten every day. He wasn't used to it. For a few days he still wore his binder all day, it took him a while to realise he wasn't entirely dependent on it anymore.
He may be free from his parents, and he may be a playwright, but he wasn't happy and he didn't understand why. It was these thoughts that had him end up frequenting the local bar. The alcohol helped with the pain, physical and mental. It was at the bar where he first heard about P.T Barnum and his Circus of freaks. For a second, he had hope, before he squashed it. He'd never belong anywhere. Although he had to admit, P.T Barnum intrigued him.
Less than a week later he gave in and bought a ticket to Barnum's show
Phillip's life was in a slump, his plays were doing well, but he didn't like them, to him they were boring, but critics loved them, and if it was bringing in money, then he'd do it. He was tired of his plays, his visit to Barnum's circus was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. His play was being performed and he was determined not to go and meet with the reporters when the play finished. He was in the theatre moping by the entrance to the show when he was approached by a very tall man with soft hazel eyes and thick brown curls. He recognised him immediately.
“Phillip Carlyle, I presume” He said his voice like liquid gold.
“P.T Barnum? Isn't it?” Phillip bluffed.
“You've heard of me?”
“How could I not have. Everyone here's heard of you, P.T Barnum and his Circus” He replied
“Is that what they're calling it? I like that” He replied, seemingly unfazed by the insult to his work.
“So, you must've heard of me then, if you came over” Phillip stated, hope growing within him that he couldn't squash down.
“Well, yes. I've also seen you at my shows. Drink?” He replied, Phillip blushed slightly at the thought of being found out, but accepted his offer and 5 minutes later they were in the bar across the road.
The bar was quiet as most people were out doing other things, there were a couple of other people and the bartender but that was it. Phillip's wings were aching from being pinned under the binder for too long, but he wasn't going to take it off here. He rolled his shoulders in an effort to shift his wings and ease the pain, but as his wings were essentially trapped, it hurt even more. He winced against the pain that shot down his wings grimacing at the feeling.
“Are you okay?” Phineas asked and Phil panicked for a moment that he might've seen.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” He replied, shifting slightly and drinking from his glass. Phineas eyed him suspiciously but left it alone.
“I'm assuming you've come for more than just a drink” Phillip guessed
“I've come to make you an offer” Little did Phil know that these words would flip his entire world upside down.
“You're telling me, you want me to be part of your circus?” Phillip said incredulously. Hope fluttered in his chest at his words. “Well, I admit its intriguing but to go would cost me greatly, so tell me what percentage of the show would I be taking?”
“Fair enough you'd want a piece of all the action, I can do 7 we can shake and make it happen?”
“Please, I wasn't born this morning. 18 would be just fine” Phineas just raised his eyebrows at him. Phillip held his gaze
“15?”
“I'd do 8”
“12”
“Maybe 9”
“10” They both offered at the same time, laughing, Phillip shook Phineas' hand.
“Looks like you have yourself a junior partner” He stated, hope filling him entirely
“What I have, Mr Carlyle, is an over compensated apprentice” Phineas fired back. Phillip laughed and retracted his hand, wincing at how the movement jostled his wings, which were much more painful now.
“You sure you're okay? You don't look it” Phineas asked, concerned. Phillip gave in.
“Not here” He gasped out, paying the battened and leaving, Phineas following closely behind.
“What is it?” Phineas asked once they were outside. Phillip scanned the streets, seeing people walking about and shook his head.
“I can't show you here.” He replied, wincing and shifting his binder through his shirt. Watching to see whether anyone else was watching, he cut through one of the backstreets he used frequently to get home faster.
“Where are we going?” Phineas asked, still following Phillip, intrigued.
“My house. Its the only place even remotely safe enough to show you” Curious but slightly wary, Phineas continued to follow Phil through the backstreets to his house. Once they entered Phillips house, he groaned loudly, leaning his head against the wall. Phineas shut the door behind him, more worried by the minute.
“You okay?”
“No” Phillip mumbled, unbuttoning his shirt, wincing as he did it, revealing the tight binder underneath. Phineas tilted his head in confusion as he watched Phil toss the shirt to the other side of the room.
Gasping in pain, Phillip pulled the binder over his head in one move, throwing it away as he did with his shirt, his hands coming up to rub gently at where the binder had dug into his skin. From where Phineas was standing, he couldn't yet see the squished up wings behind Phil's back. Phillip let out a sharp gasp of pain and rolled his shoulders about, freeing his wings and letting them unfold in all their dark red glory. They were very ruffled and messy from being in the binder all day, but they were the most majestic things Phineas had ever seen. Phil closed his eyes and groaned at the pain of trapped limbs finally unfolding.
“Are you okay – How? - Why would you wear that? - What? - How are you doing that?” Phineas' face went from confusion and apprehension to awe, delight and concern. He reached out to touch them and suddenly Phil shot back, flinching. Worried, Phineas retracts his hand, concerned but awed at the idea of a person with wings.
“Whoa! Hey, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise.” Phineas reassured softly. Phil came closer and pushed his wings out slowly towards Phineas, giving him permission to touch. Awed, Phineas reached out and stroked Phil's wings, the deep red of Phil's wings coming off slightly onto Phineas' hand as he petted them.
“Your wings change colour!” Phineas exclaimed, Phil winced at the misunderstanding but didn't correct him.
“Oh, sorry did I hurt you?” Phineas asked, noticing Phil's wince.
“No, I've just had the wing binder on too long. They make my wings ache.” Phillip explained.
“Why do you wear it then?”
“Do you really think I could go out with huge wings? They'd hate me.”
“The people out there wouldn't know brilliance if it hit them in the face. Don't let them make you do anything.” He stated, still in awe at Phil's wings.
“They're beautiful” He praised. Phillip snorted
“No they're not. They're awful. Nothing ever good has ever come out of them”
“Phil, they're amazing. If you join the Circus, we can make use of them. Then the people out there will really see how beautiful they really are” Phineas explained, excited at the idea of something new.
“For once, they could actually mean something” Phillip hoped, pulling on a shirt with holes cut into the back for his wings.
“ We could make them mean something, you could be the Angel of the Circus” Phillip laughed
“I'm no Angel”
“You could be”
Phil entered Barnum's Circus with Phineas leading the way. There were people everywhere, bustling about backstage, however all activity stopped when the performers heard Barnum enter. The place was silent, they all stopped and stared at Phil, or, more specifically, Phil's wings which had now unfolded as he took his jacket off. He blushed at the attention and looked at the floor in shame, his wings coming up around him slightly, as if prepared to protect him if he needed it. He looked up to see someone had come closer, hand partially stretched out as if to touch his wings, he flinched but didn't move, pushing his wings out towards her. She smiled softly, and stroked his wings along the tips. Phil hid his wince as she ran her fingers along some of his scars.
“They're gorgeous. What's your name?” She asked, watching in awe as the red of his wings came off slightly at her touch. Assuming the same as Phineas, that his wings changed colour in response to touch.
“Phillip Carlyle. What's yours?” He responded, feeling more comfortable here amongst Barnum's circus family than he'd ever felt with his own family. He was still afraid of nets, even now.
“Lettie Lutz. Welcome to the Circus family Phil” She greeted, which caused everyone else to come rushing over to greet him. Slightly overwhelmed, his wings moved down and touched the floor. For once, he was being accepted for his wings rather than punished. And he liked it
“Hey, can you fly?” Someone in the group asked, causing curious chatter to spread amongst the group
“Uhhh – I think so? I haven't tried in a long time” Phillip replied, remembering the last time he tried to fly
“Guys where's Anne? She wouldn't want to miss this?” Phineas asked
“Probably still on the trapeze. Oooh, Phil you could fly up to her!” Lettie answered, excited faces all stared back at Phillip.
The last time he tried to fly – no, that wasn't his life anymore. He could do this.
“I'll do it” Phil stated, before pushing his wings out to get people to move, and then fluttering his wings furiously and launching up off of the floor. Hovering above their heads, they all watched as he circled the room, getting used to flying again as he was slightly shaky, before asking;
“Where am I going again?”
“Oh! Through here!” Phineas parted the curtains at the back of the room and everyone followed him into the circus, where Anne was up on the trapeze, practising her routine. Phil flew through the curtains, hovering above the group.
Scanning for Anne, he saw her and flew up to her, she took one look at him and gasped, releasing her grip on the trapeze and falling, but Phil was faster. Catching her mid air, he brought her gently down to the ground, placing her on the floor, he himself landing with her sadly. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of flying for fun instead of safety. The crowd had come running over to make sure Anne was okay, once they were sure, the excited chatter about a new member started up again. Lettie introduced him to Anne, who was as equally impressed with his wings as the rest of Phineas' circus family were. Phil, having not been judged once for his deep red wings, finally believed he had found the home he had been searching for.
Phil had been a member of Barnum's Circus for a while before he noticed that his wings were beginning to fade back to gold. Little patches of metallic gold were shining through the deep red blood that coated his wings. Phineas promised him that he could make his wings mean something again, and he did. He used Phil's image and made him into the Circus Angel. It boosted their publicity majorly. People wanted to know whether the Circus Angel was real, or just a publicity stunt. Phil being on show all the time meant his wings needed preening much more often than they did before. The more Phillip preened them, the more the red faded away and the circus family were starting to notice.
“Phil? Why are your wings more gold than they were before?” Anne asked one day, when they were breaking away from practice for a while
“The red is fading”
“What?!?” Phineas, who had just joined them, exclaimed
“Is that bad?” Asked Lettie, who had just come over after hearing Phineas' yell.
“No – No, the uh – The red fading is a good thing.” Phillip explained.
“What? Why?”
“Gold is my natural wing colour. They're fading back to their original colour”
“Wait – Then how'd your wings become red in the first place?” Anne asked
“Oh I uhh – I left something in the uhh – I - I need to go - “ Phil stuttered, running from the room, blinking back tears.
He ran out into the hallway, desperately wanting to fly somewhere no one would find him, but some small part of him wanted to stay. So he runs. Finding the furthest room he can and hides. Curling up under a table and sobbing. He'd come so far and now he'd probably lost the only family he'd ever had. Once again, he was a failure, and it was all his fault. The circus family he had left behind were now panicking, because something's wrong with Phil and mentioning his wings not originally being red was enough to make him run out of the room crying, then it was serious.
Phineas took one look at Phil running out the door and round the corner, before looking back at the circus family briefly, they all stared back at him with worried faces, encouraging him to go running after the newest member of the circus family. Phin searches every room the way Phil ran, listening out for Phil when he hears it. Quiet hiccuping sobs coming from his office. Quietly, he opens the door to see Phil curled in a ball under his desk, leaning against the side with his wings wrapped around him protectively.
His wings are much more gold now than they were when they met. Phineas sits on the floor nest to Phil and wraps his ringmaster's coat around Phil's shoulders, his sobbing getting quieter, eventually fading to soft crying as he breathes slower. Looking up at Phin, he curls his wings around himself tighter, like a ball. Phin reaches out slowly and strokes along his wings gently, avoiding the now visible scars, now that his wings were more golden. Phineas wrapped an arm around Phil's shoulder and pulled him gently into his chest, wrapping his arms around Phil's shaking form.
“Hey. What's wrong?” Phineas asked, when Phil had stopped crying and was just leaning into Phin's embrace.
“My wings were originally gold. The reason they're not anymore – is – is – is” Phil clammed up
“Its okay, take your time.” Phineas reassured softly.
“When I was about – about a year old my parents took me to the hospital. They said I – that I had a condition. A – A birth deficiency, which caused me to – to grow gold wings. My parents – they were mad. They wanted a perfect child and I – I ruined that for them. By the time I was 4 – I – I think, they'd had enough of me. They – my father, he – he hit me. E- everyday he abused me. Ever since then, my wings – my wings have never been fully gold since. The – my wings retain – they – my wings retain blood. That's what the red is. It – its blood, from my childhood.” Phil got out between hiccuping sobs.
Phin was livid, but hugged Phil tighter, comforting him. “Phil, you are perfect. If your parents can't see that, that's their problem. Your wings don't make you a burden, or imperfect, they make you you, and that's perfect. I'm almost afraid to ask, but, how did you get these scars?” Phineas asked, trailing a finger very gently along the scars at the base and at the tips of his wings.
“Are – are you sure you – wanna know?” Phil asked, looking up at Phin from where he was nestled on Phin's chest. When Phineas nodded in reply, he began his story once more.
“The earliest memory I have that – that was particularly bad was when I was 5. My father – he – he tried to cut my wings off with a – with a kitchen knife. Like – like the ones used for bread – with the jagged edges. It didn't work – he hit me when I screamed – told me that if I didn't shut up then I'd wake the neighbours. It was the most painful thing – at the time, that had ever happened to me. He – the base and the tips of my wings are – are more sensitive than the rest, so – so while the cuts were open, they were agony.”
“He did something worse to you than trying to cut off your wings?!” Phineas exclaimed, feeling more and more sick by the minute that someone would do this to a child.
“oh yeah. Much worse. When I was 15, I thought that if – if I could fly, then I could get away. So – so I taught myself how to fly, and when – and when I attempted to escape, my – my father caught me in a net and pulled me back down. He uh – he clipped the tips of my wings together use – using a bear trap, with the spikes? And it dug into the really sensitive part of my wings. I – I screamed so loud I'm surprised the neighbours didn't hear. My father gagged me and left me there for 3 days, trapped in the net with my wings clipped together. I'd never flow since then, until I joined your circus. Then I learnt to fly for fun, rather than just survival.”
“God Phil, that's horrible, and disgusting. I can promise you that no one here will ever judge you for your past, and no one will ever treat you like that again.” Phin whispered, pulling Phil closer and hugging him tighter.
It was then that Anne, Lettie and the others found them, pushing the door open quietly. Phil startled and curled further into Phineas, before realising who it was and uncurling slightly, but staying in Phin's arms. Phin looked down at him and silently asked if he could tell the others. Phil nodded before putting his head back down on Phin's chest. Phineas told them briefly of their discussion. The circus family were as disgusted with Phil's family as Phineas was. They all came over to hug him and comfort him for a while before leaving him and Phin alone to talk.
“Phil? Are you okay now?” Phin asked quietly, pressing soft kisses to Phil's hair.
“Not really. All my life – I've been told this is all my fault, that I'm a failure. That people would hate me if they knew. I've believed that since before I could talk properly” Phil explained, unfurling his wings slightly to wrap around Phineas too.
“Hey, you are not a failure. It was not your fault. We do not hate you. If I have to tell you that everyday to get you to believe me, then I will. Phil, you are perfect. Your wings are beautiful. Don't believe anyone who says otherwise.” Phineas reassured, looking down at Phil and smiling softly, stroking his wings absent-mindedly
Phil looked up at him from his spot on Phin's chest, faces inches apart. Phin reached up to wipe Phil's tears away with his thumb. His hand falling back down, he leaned closer, waiting for Phil's permission. Taking the hint, Phil closed the gap between them and suddenly Phin was kissing him softly. He felt Phin's hand move into his hair and pull him closer, he responded by cupping Phin's cheek with his hand. Eventually, the kiss deepened and Phin pressed Phil against the side of the desk, Phil's wings wrapping around Phin to keep him in place. Phineas broke away for air, staying very close to Phil's face as he did so.
“Phin, you are – the best thing that's ever happened to me” Phil breathed
“You too Phil. You too.”
There were protestors outside, screaming things none of the circus family wanted to hear. They were probably drunk too, at this time of night, meaning they'd be harder to control. Phil was about to go out and deal with them when Anne grabbed his wrist.
“If you're going out there, we're coming too” She demanded, Phil knew he wasn't going to win this, so allowed her, Lettie, W.D, Phineas and a smattering of others to come with him.
They opened the doors to a crowd of drunk protestors, who screamed louder at the sight of Phil and the others behind him. His wings popped out, blocking the protestors from getting to his friends, to protect them. The protestors angered even more at the sight of Phillip. The protestors hated him, he'd seen the papers, they thought he was the worst. That he was the real freak of the circus. They saw him as a challenge, all attacking Phil at once, he was scratched and cut heavily by the end, but he fought them off. He was hurt, but the protestors were gone, and his friends were safe. He ushered everyone back inside, away from the protestors, unfortunately not noticing the one protestor that threw an oil lamp into the building after them, and running away.
They smelt the smoke before they saw the fire. Instantly on alert, Anne and Phillip tried to get everyone out of the building, seeing the building go up in flames was heartbreaking for all of them, watching their home burn. Phillip scanned the crowd before turning to Anne, panicking.
“Anne! Where's Phin?!?” He yelled over the fire and the people on the streets screaming.
“I don't know! Last I saw him he was still in the building” She replied, coming closer so he could hear her.
He looked back at his circus family one last time before turning his attention to the burning circus. Flying, so that he was faster, he darted between two collapsed burning beams, back into the building. Searching for any sign of Phineas, his lungs began to fill with smoke, coughing harshly, he landed, leaning against a wall for support. He couldn't see or hear Phineas and he was panicking more and more by the minute. He staggered, pushing himself off of the wall and wandering further into the building, searching for Phineas. Outside, the circus family saw Phineas approach them, completely fine. Anne ran over to him once she saw him.
“Phin! Phil's just gone in the building, he was looking for you!” Phineas' face drained of colour, looking back once at the family he was leaving behind, he ran in after him.
The fire was much worse now, pieces of the rafters falling down around him as he ran, calling out for Phil. He could feel his clothes getting singed by the fire. He couldn't hear anything and could barely see. But he wasn't giving up on Phil now. He pushed through, fighting the smoke and fire, for even a sign that Phillip could still be saved. A piece of the rafters missed him by an inch. It was then, that he heard Phil.
He heard harsh coughing, and a pillar collapsing. Spurred on by hope, he pushes himself further, seeing Phil at the end of what used to be a corridor, slumped against the wall, wings singed badly from the fire. Running over, Phineas scoops Phil into his arms, carrying him bridal style back towards the exit, his wings draped over either side of Phin, trailing along the floor. Phineas could see the exit as bits of the ceiling were collapsing completely. Hope filling him, he ran towards his circus family, Phil cradled in his arms, semi – concisions.
Running for the doorway, Phineas stumbled as a piece of the ceiling clipped his shoulder, nearly dropping Phil. With a burst of determination, he secured his grip on Phil and ran for the exit. Just making it as the doorway collapsed behind them, he carried Phil away from the fire and brought him to the circus family. Everyone was crowing around them in seconds, Phineas laid him on the ground, wings spread out either side of him, looking like a real angel, and wiped the soot and ash from his face. Anne took over in looking after Phil while Phineas removed his ruined jacket and wiped the ash from his face, being careful of his burns.
Phil was awake, but only slightly responsive, Anne rambled at him, taking his mind off of the pain, holding his hand through it. His wings curled at the tips instinctively, he hissed at the pain of the burns on his wings moving. The singed parts of his wings were fading slowly, turning bronze, a couple feathers had burned away completely. Phineas came back a few minutes later, crouching next to Anne and whispering.
“The doctors won't treat him”
“What?!” Anne yelled, glaring behind her at the emergency crew.
“They were wary when I told them his name, the second they saw him they refused” Phin explained
“What're we gonna do then?” Anne asked.
“I'll take him home. We'll have to look after him ourselves.”
“If you're taking him home, we're coming with you.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Phil wakes up again laid out on Phin's sofa, surrounded by the entire circus family, with Phineas and Anne crouched in front of him, one cleaning the soot and ash off of his face with a cloth, the other gently cleaning and bandaging the singed and burned parts of his wings.
“He's awake!” Anne yelled to the crowd of people talking amongst themselves.
“Hey, how're you feeling?” Phin asked him softly.
“Like sh-” Phil cut himself off with deep hacking coughs. Anne gave him a glass of water as Phineas helped him sit up. Phineas finished cleaning the ash, soot and dust from Phil, quickly moving onto helping Anne bandage his wings, being careful not to touch the burns too much. Phil was much more alert now, and flexed his wings out, nearly hitting Anne.
“Oh god! Anne I'm sorry” Anne laughed it off, helping Phil to stand up, a little weary but was coping fine, considering he'd been in a fire not long ago.
“The Circus Angel is back!” Someone in the crowd yelled out, causing everyone to cheer, making Phil blush happily. It was then that there was a knock at the door, confused, because they were all here, Phineas went over to open the door. Standing in the doorway, looking very annoyed, were Phil's parents. Their glares deepened when they saw Phineas, who glared right back, knowing what they'd done to Phil.
“Phil. Your parents are here.” Phin growled.
Phil looked up sharply, backing into Anne, who was instantly on alert, because Phil had never looked this scared before, that Anne knew of anyway.
“Mother, - Father” Phil greeted sharply, staring coldly at his father.
“Phil! Please, see sense, come back to us!” Phil's mother begged
“Why should I?” Phil growled
“You'll only get hurt here! This isn't good for you!”
“I'll only get hurt here?!” Phil snarled, stepping forward angrily, wings coming up above his head, stretching out fully in an attacking stance.
"You're the ones who hurt me, you hurt me more, on purpose than my family have ever done to me accidentally" He growled, wings flapping in anger.
“Phil, we are your family” His mother persisted.
“You stopped being my family when I was 4. When you beat your son, for something he couldn't control”
“You stopped being people I ever wanted to be associated with when you tortured me! AT 15!” Phil yelled
“I was 15. You trapped me in a goddamn net and you pinned my wings, and then you had the audacity to abandon me. For 3 fucking days!” Phil growled, voice loud, but scarily low.
“They did WHAT?!?” Anne yelled out from the back of the group. Phin shushed her.
“You tortured me for 18 fucking years, and now I've found another family. Get the fuck out”
“Phil please! Why would you want to stay here?!” Phil's glare was ice cold, and unrelenting. He reached out, his hand quickly finding Phin's, gripping it tightly. Phil saw his parents shocked reaction to his movements, and decided to take it a step further. Pulling Phineas towards him by his hand, he used his other hand to pull Phineas down to his height by the back of his head, and kissed him deeply.
Phin responded just as enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Phil's waist, pulling him closer. As they were deepening the kiss, Anne handed Lettie money, grumbling slightly but grinning at Phineas and Phil kissing. Phil's parents let out a shocked and offended noise, being completely ignored by everyone in the room. Phil's wings wrapped around Phin, holding him in place, as his wings came up, he underestimated the length of his wing span, and they hit his parents on the way up. Stopping for air, Phil pulled away slightly, curling into Phin's side, still holding Phin's hand. Turning back towards his shocked parents, he smirked.
“That is why I want to stay. Now get the fuck out”
So, Phil's parents left, and Phil stayed right where he belonged, because after all this time, and all his suffering, he had finally found a place to home.