mentor
Dear Fizzarolli
Thank you for the autograph and taking the time to talk at your meet-and-greet!
You told me I could do anything I wanted to do, but I don’t know where to start learning to be a clown! If you have any advice I would really appreciate it!
Thank you very much
From Oliver
Fizz put down the letter, took off his red-blue 3D glasses (hating how his prosthetic arm seemed to tremble), and went to go find Ozzie.
“Hey, Ozzie? You got a minute?”
“Of course, Fizzy-frog. For you? Always.” Asmodeus pushed aside the pile of blueprints and papers on his desk, and made space for Fizz to spring up into his lap. “You all good, babe? You’re a bit frazzled.”
“Well, I got fan mail from… not the bad kind! Not the bad kind!” Fizz hurriedly placated when the bull and ram’s faces in Ozzie’s mane scowled. “You know I told you ‘bout the kid at the pageant meet-and-greet?”
“Uh-huh?”
“He wrote me asking for advice. He wants to be a clown too.”
“Awww, that’s so sweeeeet!” Ozzie cooed. He cupped Fizz’s cheek, so proud and loving and daddy material. “You know, just putting it out there - but you could be an amazing mentor for him if you wanted!”
“NOPE!” Fizz yelped, slipping from his boyfriend’s lap and shaking his head. “No, haha, no, no, no, I couldn’t Ozz, I couldn’t, I really, really shouldn’t…” He tapered off, feeling fear and shame and you’re a bloody legend Fizzy all at one, and the thought of disappointment in Ozzie’s eyes - in Oliver’s eyes - made him feel sick. All he could look at was the floor.
“Babe.” The gentle touch of Ozzie’s fingers against his cheek. “Breathe slow for me, okay?”
Fizz hadn't realised he was starting to hyperventilate. “Okay,” he wheezed.
Ozzie waited patiently until his lover had inhaled and exhaled ten times, and his breathing had returned to normal. “What is it?”
“Cause he looks up to me like I used to look up to Mammon, and - and…” Fizz didn’t need to elaborate, both he and Ozzie knew that part all too well. He looked up at Ozzie, feeling pitiful. “What if I fucked up? What if I ended up like him, Ozzie?”
“Nuh-uh, you wouldn’t, Froggie. There's no way you would.”
“But how do you know?”
“Listen to yourself, babe. You don’t want to treat this kid the way Mammon treated you. And that’s so important! He was always out for profit, but you - you’re seeing yourself! A kindred soul.” Ozzie placed a big blue hand over Fizz’s heart. “If you choose to help this kid out, I know it’ll be because you want to take him under your wing and give him something better than you got. Like you did with Precious.”
Hearing her name, the albino quieve came trundling along the floor from her favourite nap spot. She butted into Fizz’s leg, and even though he couldn’t feel it he heard the tap of wheelchair against prosthetic. He smiled, and reached down to pet her.
Then he found himself being scooped up by Ozzie.
“I think this kid needs you, Fizz, and y’know what? I think you might need him too. Teaching him could be a healing thing.” He nuzzled his partner. “But regardless of what you choose to do, know that I’m always, always so proud of you, and that I know you’d be doing the right thing either way.”
“Thanks, Ozzie,” Fizz sniffled, pressing his forehead back against Ozzie’s. “That really helped. I love you.”
“And I love you too, Froggy.”
After they had kissed, after they had canoodled, after Ozzie had fallen asleep in his own office chair, Fizz clambered up onto the desk, put on his glasses, pulled up a typewriter, and began to type out a reply.
“Alright, kid,” Fizzarolli signed, a few days later, as Oliver bounced on the balls of his feet. “Before we start I want to see what you can already do.”
The kid grinned anxiously. Fizz remembered feeling the same way, meeting Mammon right before the first pageant he entered in. He was going to do so much better than Mammon. He was going to live up to what Oliver saw in him; what his own inner child needed to do.
“Basic clown skills. Can you juggle?”
Oliver nodded, and Fizz tossed him one ball; then another, when he was ready; and another, and another until Oliver was juggling five balls. His tongue stuck out between his fangs in concentration, a few times he had to reach out a bit further to catch an errant ball, but he was doing it!
“Great! How’s your balance?”
Oliver hopped on up to the balance beam set up in this studio space in Greed. What Fizz wasn’t expecting was for him to keep on juggling as he did.
He knew first hand that hearing loss and broken horns had done a number to his balance, and it had taken him a while to work with it. He’d worried about Oliver - but there was the advantage of youth; the kid had adapted well. Sure, he’d gone back down to a manageable 3 balls… now 2… but he was keeping it up while pacing back and forth along the bar; and that was more than most would be able to do!
“You’re really going the extra mile!” Fizz signed as Oliver finally dropped the second ball, let the other fall to the ground, and dismounted the bar, looking glum. He made sure Oliver could see him applauding. “That was awesome!”
The kid perked up at once. “Really?”
“Yeah! You’ve got it. Trust me. You’ve got what it takes to be a great clown.” Fizz crouched down, put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder; and the kid beamed. “Now – what is it you want to learn?”