The bartender came by with another round of drinks. Collins grabbed his glass immediately, while Ethan just stared at his.
The air between them felt heavy. The sound of laughter and glasses clinking around the bar only made it worse.
Ethan finally said, "You know what hurts the most? It's not even the idea that I might lose my job. It's the fact that you're not even sorry."
Collins frowned. "Of course I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"You're sorry for yourself," Ethan said coldly. "Not for me."
Collins rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't be dramatic. We're both in the same boat here."
Ethan looked at him sharply. "No, we're not. You're in a boat that's sinking, and you're trying to drag me down with you."
Collins chuckled weakly. "You always make everything sound personal."
Ethan finished his drink in one go, placed the glass down, and looked straight at Collins. "That's because it is personal."
Collins shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Man, you're taking this too seriously. It's just work."
Ethan laughed quietly. "Just work, huh? That 'just work' is the reason I wake up every morning. The only thing I've got to prove that I'm worth something."
Collins looked away. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, then finally muttered, "You're overthinking this. Trust me, it'll all settle down."
Collins slammed his glass on the table. "I'm trying to save my family, Ethan. Don't act like you understand what that's like."
Ethan looked down at him quietly. "You're not saving them. You're hiding behind them."
They stared at each other for a long moment before Collins looked away, his lips pressed together.
The tension was thick. A couple sitting nearby glanced over, sensing something was wrong.
Ethan picked up his coat and put it on. "I'm leaving."
Collins's tone softened again. "Ethan, come on. Don't walk away angry. I didn't mean it like that. I just... I'm desperate."
Ethan didn't respond. He turned and walked toward the door. But as he reached it, he stopped.
Collins had stood up and followed him outside. The cool night air hit them both as they stepped into the narrow street beside the bar. The light from the bar's sign flickered above them.
Collins pulled out his phone and turned slightly away from Ethan. "Just one second," he said, waving a hand. "I need to make a quick call."
Ethan leaned against the wall, tired. His head buzzed slightly from the drinks, but his mind was still clear enough to hear.
Collins spoke quietly into the phone. "Yeah, Mr. Holt, it's me," he said. "Yeah, I handled it. Don't worry, Ethan's gonna take the blame. He's a good kid, too trusting. A chump, really. He won't fight it."
Ethan's heart dropped.
The words hit him like a heavy stone to the chest. He stood frozen, staring at Collins's back as he kept talking.
Collins laughed softly into the phone. "Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure he doesn't say anything stupid. You can count on me, sir. See you tomorrow."
He ended the call, slipped the phone into his pocket, and turned around. His smile faded the moment he saw Ethan standing there, his face pale and expressionless.
"Ethan," Collins said quietly. "You heard that?"
Ethan didn't reply. He just stared at him for a few seconds, his jaw tight. Then he said, "Yeah. I heard everything."
Collins tried to step forward. "Look, man, it's not what you think..."
Ethan shook his head slowly. "It's exactly what I think."
Collins opened his mouth again, but no words came out.
Ethan turned around and walked away, his steps slow and heavy. The streetlights cast long shadows across the ground as he disappeared into the distance.
Collins stood there, frozen, his mouth still half open. The sound of the bar door closing behind him echoed through the night.
And for the first time that evening, the laughter and music from inside the Rusty Tankard Bar didn't sound like noise, it sounded like something far away, something that no longer belonged to either of them.
The ride home felt longer than usual. Ethan sat at the far end of the bus, his head resting against the glass as the city lights blurred past him. His mind was heavy with thoughts about what had happened at the bar. Collins' words replayed in his head over and over again.
He had trusted him. He had believed they were friends but hearing him call him a chump to Mr. Holt was like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. Every sound around him faded, the laughter of passengers, the chatter of people on their phones, the squeal of the bus brakes, it all became distant.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to walk back to that bar and tell Collins how much of a coward he was but he couldn't. His body was too tired, and his spirit too broken.
When the bus stopped at his neighborhood, he got down slowly and began walking. The streets were quiet except for a few people returning home from work. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, the air heavy with the smell of rain.
Tonight was supposed to be a happy night. His brother, Daniel, and his wife were celebrating their baby's dedication. Ethan had promised to attend, but with everything that had happened, he didn't feel like celebrating anything.
Still, he couldn't avoid it. His parents would be there. His brother had already called him earlier, telling him to come on time. So he dragged his tired feet along the road until he reached the venue.