#tdsfub

Neither expected many people to show, these gigs only held a few hundred. Heartbeats thump in time with the air’s movement.

The devil and his imp. The chaos and the calm. A killer duo.

Mike laughs, a nervous habit.

“Ready to give them Hell, Matty?” Despite the dark, his smile beams. A laugh catches between the brothers.

Music pours from a shitty bluetooth speaker as they enter, every crackle more than enough to match the electricity that dances within the fighters.

They share a grin.

It couldn’t have been a better feeling.

The bell rings and they take their places, playing dodge and playing attack. Mike distracts and Matt hits.

The older takes a blow, leaving the younger for a moment. Then the younger one recovers as the older hits.

Mike watches as Matt slides under, a practiced move.

Adrenaline pumps against excitement. Thump, woosh, thud. Hit, miss, hit.

Mike’s face meets the rubber. Matt falls next. A bell rings, music crackles.

It’s over.

They stay down, both do, for a moment. Sweat drips and fills the senses.

Mike laughs. Matt joins him.

They help each other up, dusting off. Matt pulls at his shirt, shaking his head as the other takes bows.

The excitement of the fight runs low as they leave, without money in their pockets. Both hold to each other’s side as they head back to the apartment.

Both stopped breathing as they edged open the door and quietly made it over to their bedroom, careful of the floor. Jack shouldn’t - wouldn’t - be awake right now, but both felt that fear as they got to the door. It wasn’t like they weren’t allowed to do this, it was just easier to get away with it when winning. That was the silent agreement that was made the one night they had been caught.

Tossing their respective bag in a corner, both crashed.

“Mike…” his words catch in his throat.

The air is thick and heavy.

“He’s gone, Mike.” The phone is placed gently against the rock counter. “Dad’s gone, Mikey.”

There’s a silence that latches onto anything living, threatening to drag them into the dirt themselves.

The lights outside seem too dim for a city like this.

Mike’s voice cracks, “How?”

“He was,” Matt wipes his burning eyes, “Um. He was shot.”

Footsteps play outside. Nothing holds in the small room but heartbeats and two sets of breath - one fast and one slow.

Mike nods.

Matt looks away.

Both hope the other breaks the deathening silence.

“Okay. Okay, we -” Mike starts, his voice cut off.

“Okay? Mike, he's dead and we didn’t even get to say goodbye!” Fire, not one of anger, but one of hurt, burns in Matt’s words.

“We knew it was coming!” The fire - the angry part - spreads to the older.

“Nobody knows when their dad’s going to get shot! We should have been there!” A voice breaks.

“Well, we weren’t!” The words snap.

The air stiffens. Rings have formed around the lights, ones of tears.

A heart pounds in a chest, blood pools in a set of ears.

A solid drum holds against ice covered words, “We can’t do this right now. We have work tomorrow.”

“Hell to work! Our dad is dead and that’s all you're thinking about! Don’t you have a heart?” The fire burns hotter.

“Of course I care, Matt! We can’t just stop everything because someone died!”

Hands hold tight against the air.

Thud.

Pain stings against Mike’s face.

Silence is replaced by angry breath.

Everything slows to a stop. It’s just the boys. Alone.

Matt braces himself for a hit back - one that doesn’t come.

His breath slows.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Mike’s voice softens, “I’m not mad.”

He should have tapped out the moment it got blurry - the moment he stopped seeing clearly.

He hadn’t. He just took what he could - he knew what to do. These were practiced moves.

He was bleeding. He felt the hits and he felt the warm goo and -

He heard Mike. He heard him yelling at him. He heard the refs pushing him away.

Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Because he wanted his brother to trust him. He wanted to be able to show his dad that he wasn’t helpless.

The water feels like fire against his sore and pinked body.

How could he have let this happen? Why didn’t he listen?

His face feels wet. It’s hard to tell if it was tears or the shower.

Was it hard to get blood off he wonders. It couldn’t be hard to see in his already red hair.

It feels awful standing there.

A tired body presses against cheap tile.

He needed to lie down. He needed to apologize.

Talking after this was going to be a nightmare.

Mike’s waiting outside as Matt leaves, dressed in a company shirt.

“You okay?” His voice is soft and concerned.

He watches his brother stand against the doorway, even if for a moment.

He tries again, “What happened out there?”

“Can we just go back to the hotel?” He holds his arms.

Mike nods, standing still and waiting for his brother.

The air stills for a moment.

He steps forward and leans against the older one. Mike places an arm around him.

It’s a quiet walk to the cab.

It’s also a quiet ride. It didn’t take long for the exhausted man to fall asleep against the cold glass - the other sits watching the dark streets.

Worry sits heavy on both of their chests.

The car pulls into the lit parking lot - Mike gently shakes his brother awake.

They just needed to get inside.

As Matt waits for his mind to catch up, his brother pays for the ride.

Not a word is shared as they make it to the room.

The air bleeds in a stiffness that doesn’t normally hold.

As he unlocks the door, Mike tries to talk with his brother again. “So- you going…to be okay?”

“We’ve lost before. I think I’ll be fine,” he mumbles.

“Not that badly,” Mike counters.

Matt’s eyes dart, “I’ll be fine.”

The air’s stiffness continues to hold onto them.

“Okay. Get some sleep?” A breath escapes him.

Matt nods.

Jack waits behind as the boys struggle to push past each other on the way in.

Their messy footsteps echo through with breaths of laughter. Laughter that breaks as they both finally notice the stillness of their father.

Dissatisfaction sits against his face, something matched with crossed arms. His fiery hair seems even more so - both still.

Silence rings through. No words have to be spoken. Both could tell they were in trouble.

Hearts pound in chests.

Breaths slow into nothing.

“So,” the father speaks. It’s not an angry tone, no, it’s more… difficult to place. Something between what he used when catching Mike skipping and when Matt brought a friend home.

The younger pulls at his knuckles. He struggles to look at the figure standing in the door.

Stillness overtakes the air.

“We didn’t do anything, old man,” Mike’s voice cuts through the air with a coldness that’s only ever held toward Jack. Matt’s eyes find place on his brother’s tight shoulders.

“Is that so?” His tone dips more into trouble.

Mike doesn’t back down, “Yeah,” he pushes past Matt, disappearing into the free bathroom.

It leaves Matt with his father.

That silence fills the air, leaving a stale taste. Muffled sounds of a shower starting become the only saving grace.

Jack’s eyes bore into Matt’s.

“I’m sorry, Dad. Please don’t be mad at us, it was my idea,” he mumbles, everything in him wanting to turn around and leave.

“Was it?” There’s doubt.

Matt nods.

Stale silence buzzes. His heart thuds in his chest.

“We just wanted to help out. Maybe get some more cash,” Matt’s voice shakes.

“Well. Did you?”

The silence answered for him. Jack shakes his head, disappointment overpowering his tone.

“Why don’t either of you listen, huh?”

Matt looks away. He can’t hear anything but his heartbeat, and for once, that’s not comforting.

Mike speaks up, “Get off his ass.” He hadn’t even fully made it down the hall before trying to do so.

The stale air fills with cold anger.

It stays for a few moments before breaking.

Nothing was said after that.