Hang Up Your Coat (Barlyle)

05

He was back in the bar. Everything was hazy - he remembered stumbling in and demanding the bartender another, another, another, but at some point the bartender had stopped giving him drinks all together. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks - why couldn't he just have a drink, god damnit?

"Phillip?"

He gasped and swirled around, banging his elbow on the edge of the counter. He winced and wrapped his hand around the throbbing joint as he slurred out, "P - P.T.?"

"Jesus, Phillip, how much have you had to - are you crying?"

P.T.'s hands were suddenly on his arms as he sobbed, snot running from his nose like a child. He blinked bloodshot eyes and hiccuped. "H-He won't let me have another drink," he pointed to the bartender like a tattling child and his finger shook "I just want another drink, I—"

"It's all right, let's just get you ho—"

Phillip slumped forward and cried into P.T.'s shoulder. The ringmaster stiffened in surprise and held the younger man away, hands on his shoulders now as he gave Phillip a curious, concerned look.

"Let's get you home," he repeated, taking a deep breath as he truly took in the look of Phillip for the first time. "Anne had to call me. She's worried sick about you."

"A-Anne?"

"Yes, Anne. You remember her, don't you? Tall, beautiful. Loves you."

(loves you)

Yes, he remembered Anne.

(she loves you)

But—

(p.t. doesn't love you)

Phillip let out another wail. P.T. only sighed and helped the man off the barstool, slinging one of Phillip's arms around his neck. He nodded and muttered an apology to the bartender as he half-stumbled out of the bar beneath the weight of the other man.

Beside him, Phillip continued to sob.

*

Anne's glare hit him the second he walked into the tent. She stood over by her brother and had been watching him climb up to the trapeze, but it were as if she had a sixth sense and could feel Phillip in her proximity.

Phillip sighed and lowered his head as he approached her. She scoffed and looked away, but didn't start hurrying in the other direction - that was a start. "Please, Anne. Forgive me?"

"Oh, so now you're talking to me?"

Phillip winced. It was true - he had been ignoring her more than he'd like to admit, but, aside from the morning he'd woken up with a hangover from hell, she hadn't exactly made any effort to talk to him either. When he'd woken up that morning, her talking had quickly turned to screaming

("do you realize how badly you could have hurt yourself?")

and it only made his headache even worse.

"I'm sorry," Phillip murmured. Anne huffed.

"Phillip, get over here!"

Phillip turned at the sound of his own name and nodded at the Irish giant, who waved him over. Anne had started to walk away by the time he turned back around, but he grabbed her by the wrist.

"What—"

Phillip kissed her, holding her body tightly against his. She gasped, but her hands - whether intentional or not, neither of them knew - moved up to entangle in the hair at the back of his head. When they pulled away, she reached up to touch her lips. Tears glimmered in her eyes.