The grand life of Philip | ✓

21. Past, Present, Future

Warning: Mentions of suicide and road accidents.

--

"That was something," Cedric commented, shaking his head.

"That man was so unnecessary," Carnel said with a sigh. "At least some good was made out of it."

He said it like he knows what was going to happen next.

He looked at Philip and Fletcher with an unexplainable expression, and Cedric noticed.

The two of them stood next to Cedric's truck, waiting for the rest of their friends, who wanted to chat with the owners; the man that took their order, Anay was his name, and his husband Ciel who helped clear things up with the nasty man from earlier.

Anay and Ciel were married and ran this cafe together, and were currently being questioned by a group of teenagers, who found out a couple of things about the cafe, about how it's free for kids on the weekends.

Carnel looked away and turned back, only to find Cedric looking right at him.

"What?" Carnel asked lazily.

The latter shook his head.

"Nothing."

"If you say so."

"On second thoughts, do you want to ditch them?" Cedric asked hopefully for some reason.

Carnel looked back at his friends chatting excitedly with the two men, and Philip and Fletcher talking heatedly behind the cafe.

He looked back at Cedric with a sly smile.

"Sure."

--

"You said you wouldn't smoke." Philip spoke once they stepped out of the cafe.

"I know." Fletcher murmured.

"You promised."

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have promised if you were going to break it."

Philip was clearly upset.

Fletcher didn't say anything as he walked back behind the cafe so they could talk.

He was disappointed with himself.

"I couldn't help it, I was angry." He said.

Philip looked hard at Fletcher trying to find answers on the surface.

"Can I ask you something?"

Fletcher nodded.

"Why did you start smoking?"

Fletcher leaned on the wall behind him and looked at Philip. He wasn't sure how to tell him the truth without sugarcoating it, so he went in blindly.

He took a deep breath and spoke.

"I used to go to the arcade with my father when I was little. He gambled a lot--won a few, lost a few. But he gambled everything away with this one man who used to come in every day with his friends."

He paused, looking up at the sky.

He wasn't nervous or emotional.

He just needed time to build his sentences and he continued.

"They all smoked. Cigars, they had a ton of it. They would sit to gamble, never without a cigar in hand. They'd lean back and look around confidently like they knew. Knew the outcome of every gamble. I grew up in that smoke at night."

Philip was listening intently.

Fletcher went on.

"I was about seven or eight, my father couldn't pay back his debts so he killed himself. I didn't want to end up like him, and started smoking around thirteen. Because I wanted to be confident like those men. I wanted to know the next move. I wanted to support my mother somehow, but she was sick and didn't have much time left--lung cancer."

He sighed.

"Then she passed, my brother took care of me, and now, here I am." He looked down at Philip with a lazy smile. "With you."

Philip's heart jumped.

Fletcher could manage to make him feel special even when it wasn't about him.

Philip wordlessly went in for a hug.

"Thank you for sharing this with me." He muttered.

Fletcher didn't say anything. Didn't hug him back, only patted his boyfriend's head.

"Since you shared your past with me, I think it's time I told you about mine."

"Hey, don't tell me just because I told you." Fletcher reasoned.

Philip shook his head.

"No, you're my boyfriend, you should know."

Fletcher nodded hesitantly, so Philip began speaking.

"My dad used to play the piano, so he insisted that someone in the family took after music. He used to joke about it saying even if you become broke you play the vessel on the streets which can still feed you, it can be a job too."

Philip gulped.

"Now I'm not sure if he was serious or joking. But I took violin classes, and my dad always hyped me up, but I hated my teacher, he'd always talk shit about me. But I did it because I liked playing the violin. My dad--he always dropped me and picked me up from my classes. But this one time I wanted to leave early from the class because the teacher was unbearable."

Philip heaved.

He could feel the tears collect in his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me further, hey," Fletcher wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

"No, listen. It was raining heavily that night. But I forced my dad to come pick me up. He did it. Without a second thought, he didn't even need much convincing, he came for me. He picked me up. We were on our way home, but then there was a huge truck heading before is with a bright beam, and before I could even process anything the car collided with that truck. Half of our car went under the truck's tyre."

Philip sniffed, but he held in a sob. The lump at the back of his throat became heavier with each word he spoke.

"My dad, he died on the spot, while covering me."

Philip crouched on the ground, memories of his father flashing at every corner of his brain.

Fletcher didn't say anything, just held him. He himself felt a little emotional after Philip opened up about his past, but he could relate more with Philip now.

He gritted his teeth.

Philip coughed, seeming to have gained his composure back a little. He stood up with Fletcher's support, feeling more airy and fresh. He was unsure if he should be feeling like this, but Fletcher always manages to make everything better.

"Thank you." He mumbled, looking up at Fletcher.

Fletcher stared at him before pulling him in for a much needed embrace.

They felt much lighter after shedding a few tears and sharing their past.

But that's the thing about losing people, you always have tears left to shed for them.