Hey There, Delilah

Bite the Bullet

Song: a comfort character playlist by rosline.

It was three days later and Ambrose still couldn't breathe.

The knot in his chest tightened and twisted like the dagger his mother left in his back. He worked through the day with that sinister hand holding his heart. He took care of Cameron while it squeezed and yanked every time his brother smiled a toothy smile. He went to bed without any air in his lungs. When he woke up, that feeling was as present as the day he found the broken racket at Cameron's little feet.

Ambrose pushed his glasses higher on his nose as he rifled through the stack of bills. Cameron called them his nerdy glasses. They were big, thick, and black like the ones the stereotypical nerds wore. The lenses were smudged with little fingerprints. It made reading a hassle but Ambrose was always too lazy to clean them.

The storm behind his darkening eyes raged. Numbers blurred together. There were the usual utility bills: electricity, water, gas, and trash services. The rent for the shop and their two bedroom apartment were coming up. Health insurance. Car insurance. Phone bill. His father's hospital bills.

Money, money, money.

He'd canceled his gym membership to give him some wiggle room. But even then he knew he'd have to be smart this month when handling their grocery budget.

There was also the matter of the racket to deal with too.

Ambrose closed his eyes. Even in the darkness he still saw all the numbers and the calculations and the looming dates.

Cameron needed new clothes and soon. Fall was creeping up on them and he'd all but outgrown and worn down all of Ambrose's old clothes from when he was a kid. His shoes would make it a few more months but definitely not through the winter. He needed a new coat. Something warmer, more thicker than the last one's.

The dim light in the small kitchen flickered. Ambrose opened his eyes, taking a sip from the cold beer that sat upon his wooden table. A small outline from the bottle seeped into the surface of the circular surface. Ambrose couldn't find it in himself to care all too much to use a coaster.

He didn't budge when the door to his apartment creaked open. Besides him, only one other person had a key. So he didn't worry as a hooded figure walked through the darkness of the living room and entered the kitchen.

"Little man sleeping?" the man asked. His voice, as usual, was light and airy. Carefree.

Ambrose would never admit it, but he envied him for that.

"It's one in the morning," he replied gruffly. "Of course he's sleeping."

Vincent Lodovico grinned a boyish grin as he fetched himself a beer and sat beside his cousin. His chocolate brown eyes, his mother's eyes, as everyone called them, scanned the stack of papers. He took a sip from the beer, frowning as he noticed the apartment listings in Pittsburgh.

"Planning on moving?"

Ambrose shook his head, balling up the apartment listings and tossing them in the trash from where he sat. "Was looking for a cheaper place. West Mifflin has apartments that cost a third of what I'm paying now. It looked good."

Vincent nodded. "It's also, what, five hours away from the shop? That's a hell of a commute."

"I'm not going."

"You were still looking."

Ambrose glared at the younger man. Vincent didn't waver. He knew Ambrose as well as he knew his own heart. There was, quite honestly, nothing Ambrose could do to scare him.