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“Mike, I need to talk to you about something. Have a minute, man?”
Mike was always in an exceptionally good mood after a show, his eyes still dazzling as if the stage lights never left them. The sweat that slicked blond locks to his forehead and made every joint sticky didn’t bother him until the high wore off hours later. He gave Sergei a big grin, throwing an arm around his shoulder.
“Sure, if you don’t mind me being gross.”
“Not much bothers a guy like me. Anyway, I’d rather just get the discussion over with while I have your attention.” Sergei’s expression suddenly grew serious. “You know Joker’s…issues.”
What a personal topic to discuss in the middle of the backstage, where anyone could walk in and hear them. The two brightly dressed men stuck out in a sea of boxes and dreary equipment in various states of functionality. The one practical use of a clown nose was that it blocked all the dust from getting up in your nostrils. Mike was always sensitive to dust, ironically. He thought it to be his funniest trait. Man who can turn upside down on a unicycle is slain by allergies.
Mike stepped back, using the same hand he held Sergei’s broad shoulder with to scratch the back of his head. “I know some of his particular problems. But I always thought…why bother judging each other when we all have our personal issues? As long as the show goes on…”
“That’s the point. Joker doesn’t want the show to go on. In fact, I believe he thinks if he gets in between my wife and I….then I’ll give up and the whole team will fall apart.”
Mike tensed up. He racked his brain for any signs that Joker could be so conniving. The acrobat wasn’t the kind of person to only trust another person’s judgement (especially a man as overbearing as Sergei could be), but all he came up with were memories of Joker lurking in the shadows. Always appearing behind others like a phantom. Usually only interested in Natalie.
“Well…I’m sorry about that, Sergei. I don’t think your suspicions are unfounded.” Mike cocked his head to the side. “How am I supposed to help you deal with this, though?”
Sergei smiled—a smile a bit too warm and eager considering the discussion at hand. “He refuses to speak with me alone. All I want is to have a discussion with him. Make sure he knows that Natalie is fine exactly where she is and we are all happy, so if he isn’t, that’s something he’s gotta work out with his damn self.”
“I see! You want me to invite him somewhere so you can have a one-on-one.” Mike beamed. “That’s simple enough. How about I ask him to help me sort through the stage clothes in that old dressing room, and then you come in after me?”
“Mike, you’re a good man.”
“It’s nothing much, really.”
Mike didn’t know why he hesitated to leave when Sergei brushed past him to go meet Joker. If he had just left like he was supposed to, went off to go practice his next extreme act for the show coming up, he wouldn’t have been saddled with such crushing guilt that ate at him endlessly. He would probably be leaving the circus with Murro at his side, ready to embrace new horizons. His sins, however…
Mike indulged his own curiosity, stepping closer to that enclosed area while bouncing a juggling ball from hand to hand. He could hear the agitation rolling off their words, but wasn’t quite close enough to make them out.
But then, Joker’s desperate shout made Mike hurry closer, peering past the wall and looking into the clothes-filled roomed. They were partially obscured by a large rack. Too within their own moment to see Mike. His face flushed from shock and embarrassment at seeing Joker pinned against a wall, Sergei’s knee pressing in between his crotch like it had any right to be there.
Joker pounded Sergei’s chest with his fists. Mike felt his stomach dropping seeing the way Sergei’s didn’t even flinch. “Who do you think you are, doing this with me again?! Get off me, you devil!”
“Ah, but doesn’t it mean something that you did it with me at all?”
Sergei pinched Joker’s chin and forced eye contact. There was an aspect of faux affection to the gesture that disturbed Mike deeply. And still, his knee was…
Joker wrenched his face away. “I was lonely. Terribly lonely. I had no one, and I wanted a friend, then your lips were on mine without even asking. Your lust is meaningless to me. Now get off.”
“You know, paying back the only person willing to give your sorry ass any attention when no one else liked you by hovering around his wife—putting ideas in her hysterical mind—is quite rude. If you were anyone else except my pathetic little weeping clown, I’d probably beat you so hard you ended up in the ground.”
Sergei continued caressing Joker’s made-up face while he glowered up at his attacker. Pure hatred radiated from the depths of his deep, brown eyes. “Oh, but you’re so pretty. This face of yours is truly amazing under all the make up. To think, maybe if you weren’t an amputee, they’d let you onto a nicer stage.”
“Sergei, what the fuck are you doing to him?”
Mike finally couldn’t take it anymore. He balled his fists up, ready to fight Sergei if that’s what it took. Sergei took one look at him, gave an annoyed frown as if Mike was nothing more than a fly buzzing by his ears, and enclosed his fist around Joker’s throat.
“No—!” Mike cried, reaching out.
“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you. I’m sure the two of you would have a chance against me, especially since this brat tends to carry weapons. I’ll choke him out before he has the chance to shank me. Don’t think I won’t do it, Morton.”
And Mike knew he would. Never would have believed it before, but that expression was the biggest challenge he ever saw in his life.
Sergei smiled, satisfied. “Look at how small his throat is in my hand. I like you, so I’ll forgive your eavesdropping and assume you just couldn’t resist seeing the show.”
Mike had never realized just how scrawny Joker really was. His height made him seem more imposing. Seeing him struggle to breathe while Sergei held him in place was like seeing a long-legged elk with its neck in a tiger’s maw.
“I never agreed to this. You said you wanted to have a discussion with him, not that you wanted to put your hands on him!”
“God, you’re so damn naive sometimes. What real man has a discussion with another man who wants to fuck his wife? Get your head out of your ass, Morton.”
“Just…don’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. I won’t gossip about your relationship, believe me. Please don’t stoop this low,” Mike pleaded.
Sergei let go of Joker’s throat, who gasped and clutched his neck, withering away from Sergei’s imposing frame.
“Since you asked so nicely, I guess I can work something out. You said you didn’t want me to do anything he didn’t want himself. Well, this liar wants more than he lets on. Get over here.”
There was nothing Mike desired less than to he anywhere near that scene, but he couldn’t leave Joker to fend for himself. He came closer. Joker, who definitely had every reason to resent Mike, still leaned into him. Because Sergei was worse.
“Joker, you’ll stay the fuck away from Natalie, right?”
To Mike’s horror, Joker only glared at him. A tense smirk appeared on Sergei’s face.
“You see what I mean now, Morton? I know you’re too dedicated to your craft to care about ladies, but imagine you had a girlfriend and a creep like this kept bothering her. Surely you would want to put him in his place.”
Joker shook with rage. Mike was scared for him. No amount of anger would help him win this fight, so why did he insist on being a hero to a woman who made her own decisions? If only he could convince him to care about himself first. He knew before that Sergei could be rough, overly macho, but this….how could Joker ever think he had a chance against the stronger, more popular star of the show?
Mike nearly jumped out of his skin when Sergei kissed Joker. Joker didn’t resist like Mike expected, and he was stuck watching a weirdly intimate gesture despite all of the hatred and sadism shown before. Like Sergei said, Mike didn’t really engage in this kind of behavior usually, obsessed with honing his acrobatic skills. He had no idea how to proceed. In his mind, relationships were monogamous and he shouldn’t be here, but Sergei demanded it.
Mike’s cheeks burned watching Sergei’s tongue push inside Joker’s mouth. Mike felt Joker shaking faintly against his chest. He was essentially squished in between them while Sergei kissed him as if no one was watching.
Sergei parted, swiping his tongue over his own lips. “Mmm. Morton, you have no idea what you’re missing in life. Look at how pretty he is with his brown puppy dog eyes. Don’t you wanna kiss him too?”
Mike shook his head, mind reeling. He did find Joker charming, but he couldn’t do something like that randomly. At Sergei’s probing eyes, he conceded to stroke Joker’s back. Like he really was a puppy. He almost expected Joker to tell him to go to hell, only for the poor sap to relax further into his body as if he hadn’t been touched like this ever before.
Sergei stroked Joker’s front. His fingers were much greedier, groping Joker’s slender chest like he was searching for fat that wasn’t there. “I really am a sucker for a bitch with big, brown eyes. Too bad Natalie is getting more sassy these days. She never looks up at me with the innocence she used to have. That’s what happens when you take a slut from a village and bring her to heights she was never meant to reach.”
Mike wanted to tell him to get his arm stuck in a meat grinder. No wonder Joker was possessed with so much rage he put his life on the line; Mike couldn’t believe this was the man he always admired.
Sergei’s hands wandered all over Joker’s body. Mike felt his body heat increasing, from embarrassment surely. “As much as Joker pisses me off, I do have to say that he’s a much better lay most of the time compared to her. Women are more prissy. The moon has to align perfectly for them to fuck you.”
“And look at how pliable he is with you touching him. Maybe I need to get you to help me when it’s time for a correction. I work too hard to fight for sex.”
Mike’s brain was melting. He always imagined his first sexual encounter would be intimate and private. He dreamed of meeting a lady after a show that looked at him fondly and accepted his invitation to go on a date. Then later they would fall into each other’s arms and take it slow.
Instead, he had Joker disassociating in his arms while Sergei selfishly and crudely squeezed his tender flesh. He felt how lax Joker was. Even began to bear the weight of his body, as if Sergei was stealing his strength to stay standing. Mike couldn’t dream of complaining. All of this perversion and evil…he—
Joker made a low noise when Sergei shoved his knee back up into his groin. Mike couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle. Those massive, claw-like hands staking their claim, pulling at his slender body as if it was a a possession he owned—the lackluster way he pleasured Joker with his leg, entirely convinced that was all he deserved. Mike never dreamed of sexual encounters being like this. He couldn’t phantom treating his worst enemy like this. But this was the treatment Joker got by default, just for existing. And Mike knew deep down he did nothing cruel to Natalie. Seeing Sergei’s true self, it was clear Joker was in the right. Yet here he barely stood, being violated because Mike trusted someone he really knew nothing about, while Mike held him like—
Like a sex toy Sergei paid him to prop up for easy access.
Joker shoved his face into Mike’s neck and sobbed softly as his body convulsed. Sergei looked annoyed at this, but let him get away with it, punishing him by grinding his knee in deep enough that it must have hurt. Mike just kept stroking his back. He didn’t have the audacity to be weirded out. All he could do was try to atone in any small way he could for setting up his friend for such terrible humiliation.
“Damn, Morton, you look like you just saw a man get blown to pieces! Try to lighten up a bit.”
Sergei dusted his hands off as if done with his work for today. He stepped away from Joker, who slumped into Mike’s arms completely. “You saved his ass, really. I was thinking of using this special substance I procured to mess up that pretty face of his…not like he needs it when he smothers it with make up. Humiliating him in front of you is a better treat, though.”
“I don’t think I need to say it, but just in case: Bernard ain’t helping you with shit. And I’ll just go through with my previous plan if you run your mouth. But you’re a smart one. I’m sure you won’t do that to me.”
When he left, Joker just asked Mike one thing: “Why?”
Mike’s cheeks stung from the heavy flow of tears running over them. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry. Please, Joker. Whatever you want. Whatever you desire. I’ll try to make it up to you in any way I can—“
In the end, all Joker did was stare blankly into the void until he eventually lost consciousness in Mike’s embrace. Mike knew the answer was nothing. There was nothing he could do to change the reality cemented in Joker’s mind that no one in this circus cared about anything but their own splendor and success. Later on, at Oletus Manor, Mike would have to pretend to be surprised when he proved to everyone that Joker was behind all that death and destruction. He could blame Joker all he wanted. Could resent him until the day he died. But what he never told anyone was that he played a part in his personal heaven being destroyed, to the point he would never truly enjoy anything again.
He didn’t restrain Joker well. He was free to escape, or die in his own way. Mike knew what he had to do. He drove the knife into his ball and spilled the contents with ease.