Soooooo Like welll...I was reading up on some Walking Saints buuuuut it seems like everyone kills Murphy and focuses their story on Connor. And I love Murphy so I don't think that's fair! and I decided to write this little snippit. I hope you all like it and I live up to emotional writing cause let me tell you...that's one hard bitch to write :/ There is some incest reference going on but it has to do with more of Murphy's side. Doesn't really mention any other characters but Daryl from the Walking Dead but I don't give a shit its going on the cross overs! Thank you for reading and every mistake is mine!
He took a step back and pushed the hot, burning air out of his lungs. The pain in his chest just tightened as he heard words of love exchanged. It hurt, crawling at the remains of his already broken heart and ripping it to shreds. And Murphy, Murphy slid down the tree he hid behind. Head falling between his open legs as he heaved, but his stomach too empty, the effects of the world ending.
He leaned his head back, eyeing blinking slowing up at the cloudy sky, mind drifting to pale skin and a face too much like his.
Why? Why had it have to be him? What was wrong with Murphy? Wasn't he handsome enough, funny enough, charming enough?
He laughed. No he was none of those things. He was hard and weak and he hurt too much and put all the responsibility on Connor. He wasn't a good twin so of course he couldn't be a good lover. He had proven that enough times when his own fuckin' twin would push him away.
"No it's wrong."Connor would give him these dark glances as he pushed Murphy away. "I don't…" he would never finish his sentence but he knew, knew what the blonde was about to say. 'I don't love you that way.' It hurt more than it should. After, Murphy would find himself alone, curled up on a cold bed, Connor gone somewhere to give him…space. But he didn't need it. He needed his brother!
So it wasn't reallythat surprising to find someone like…Daryl attractive. He was tough, could handle things on his own and give as much as he took. And that was what Connor needed. Someone who can ground him, someone who would give him a fight and fight for him and Murphy couldn't do that. He knew that now.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt because it did. Connor had promised him forever and forever meant forever, right? Only it made him feel like a child and dammit he was a fuckin' grown up. Murphy puffed out his chest. But then again, Connor belonged to Murphy. Always had since the day they were born and yet here he was, being fucked by that damn hillbilly. The same man who looked so much like him.
A cry broke from his lips. Why hadn't he been good enough? Why couldn't he not have been Connor's brother, his twin? Why couldn't he have just been a stranger on the road? Why did it always have to be this way?
"Do ya fuckin' hate me?" Murphy asked the sky, tears running down the side of his cheeks as he rubbed them away franticly. "Why does that bastard get Conn and I don't? What's so wrong with me? What?" he have a chocking moan, voice cracking with grief.
If he listened closely he could still hear the sound of slapping flesh and all he wanted to do was claw out his ears, bury them into the ground and leave them to riot.
He got up, brushing his tears as he staggered back to camp. He didn't want to be here anymore. Not near Connor, not near Daryl, not near the heat and the pain. He felt so alone and it hurt, hurt so God damn bad, because he had thought that his brother would always be there for him. And he wasn't, but that wasn't Connor's fault. It was Murphy's for lusting after his own blood. This was his punishment. He felt drunk as he staggered back to camp, body stiff and hard, and uncontrollable to handle.
Murphy paused as he turned to stare at the odd tent pitched away from the others. A light lit in his eyes as he noticed a tail wagging from within that tent. Maybe he wasn't alone after all, he thought as he raced towards the tent.
"Come on," was the first thing he said to Markus, the boy he found half starved with just a dog by his side and a knife for a weapon. The group had been reluctant to have another mouth to feed and even Connor had sided with them, but he didn't back down. This boy neededhim. He could just feel it! God had brought Markus here for a reason. And maybe it was so Murphy wouldn't be alone and he was thankful again. The angry he felt still there, but it was buried as brown eyes glanced up, eyes droopy with sleep. Yeah maybe God was still on his side. Not fully but just enough and that was all he needed as he watched Markus crawled to his feet, the dog's ears perking up with interest.
"What's'goin on?" he slurred through his words.
"We're leaving," Murphy stated, grabbing his bag and throwing Markus' his. Because Connor didn't need him anymore, not when he had Daryl to keep him steady.
"Man…have you been crying?" he froze, shoulders going stiff as he rubbed franticly at his face. His heart pounded and some part of him was glad to know that Markus cared about him.
"Just…shut the fuck up and let's go!"
"Ok, ok, chill."
It wasn't that hard to walk out of camp. Everyone else was busy as they slipped past trees and into the world alone, just the two of them and a dog.
"Its, ok Murph," Markus whispered to him later as they came to a stop, Murphy eyeing the river below him.
He knew what needed to be done. Connor wasn't his anymore, maybe had never been and he was going to have to except that. He gave a heavy sigh, pulling out his rosary from his shirt, tenderly lifting it off his neck. The wood light in his hands, fingers curled tight around it. This had to be done; he had to let Connor go. He had to let his brother by happy. Murphy gave the rosary one last kiss before chucking the necklace into the river, watching as it fell deep.
Markus walked up to him, Gar between them, "You have me now," the boy said, holding out a fist and Murphy couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he gave the waiting hand a bump.
"Yeah I do, darlin'," he said, giving the dark locks a ruffle.