Anthem Of The Angels Version 1
White walls surround us
No light will touch your face again
Days go on forever
But I have not left your side
Connor's ocean blue eyes stared up into Murphy's own sky blue ones, the light inside those waters growing darker by the minute. His pupils were small, filled with fear and sorrow, and perhaps even a twinge of regret, but they held Murphy's gaze all the same, a tether keeping them both situated to the earth for the time being.
They were back in their loft, Connor propped half on his shabby mattress and half in Murphy's arms, blood spilling from a wound in his side and staining the sheet beneath him, though neither cared about that now.
It had all happened so fast, too fast to really even remember except for the sound of gunfire pounding around them like thunder, the sparks as the bullets flew reminiscent of lightning. They could smell the blood in the air, the blood of evil men running a river of red around them, and it felt the same as any other job, the same as every other hit before it. But then Connor had cried out in pain, and his body had hit the floor with a horrid thudding sound, and Murphy was sure his heart hadn't even been beating as he fired off three more rounds into their remaining assailants. The tears were streaming down Connor's face by that time, hot and gushing though he'd tried to control it, tried to stay strong so he wouldn't look like a pansy in his twin's eyes, but Murphy's mind was so far from joking at that moment that Connor needn't have worried.
Murphy collected their guns as quickly as possible, throwing them into the black duffels they always brought with them, then slung both bags over one shoulder so that he could carry Connor on the other. It was hard to do, not because Connor was heavy, but because every movement that Murphy's shoulder sent jarring into his body had him whimpering in agony, and Murphy's throat nearly closed up completely at that desperate sound that clawed its way from his brother's airways.
Surprisingly enough, they weren't far from their apartment, but there was no way Murphy would be able to carry Connor all the way there without either collapsing or Connor bleeding to death right there on top of him. So he hotwired one of the random cars parked on the street and drove like a bat out of hell back to their loft, praying that it wouldn't be too late for his brother by the time they got there.
Luck was with them, in that instance, for when Murphy haphazardly parked in front of their building Connor was still breathing, though just barely. At that point the only thing that mattered was his twin's life, and so he left the bags in that stolen car and focused only on getting his brother up into their apartment and settled on the bed so that he could try and figure out what to do about that side wound.
Murphy had laid Connor down on the mattress and removed his black turtleneck, and immediately knew that Connor would not survive the night, let alone the next hour. His left side was a mess of blood and torn, bruised, swollen flesh. Whatever bullet had buried itself inside of him wasn't going to come out again anytime soon, and it appeared to have at least nicked an artery on the way in. Connor was already too pale, his whole body shaking of its volition, and he felt inexplicably cold for no real reason; even if they could have gone to a hospital to get the wound treated, Connor wouldn't last through the trip it would take to get there.
Connor used part of his waning strength to feebly grasp at Murphy's hand, a silent plea for Murphy not to leave him, and so Murphy wrapped one arm around his twin's shoulders and gently lifted him up so that Connor's head was rested at the junction between Murphy's neck and shoulder. Murphy cradled his brother as tightly as he could without hurting him, letting his tears roll down his cheeks and splash across Connor's fluffy brown hair. If this was how Connor wanted to spend his final moments, then so be it; Murphy wouldn't move from this spot for anything.
We can chase the dark together
If you go then so will I
"M'gonna follow ya, Conn. Just like we always meant fer it to be, leavin' this world t'gether like we came into it t'gether." Murphy sniffled, trying to talk properly around the lump in his throat.
If Connor was going to the other side then you could be sure Murphy would be not more than two steps behind him, just like it had been since the day they were born. They had guns stashed in the loft, in case of emergencies, and plenty of ammo; it wouldn't take long at all to scrounge one up, load it, and put it to his temple.
"No, Murph. Can't let ya do that. Ya know what the Bible says 'bout suicide. We'd be separated fer eternity then. There's a reason God didn't take us t'gether. You still got a mission to fulfill, Murphy." Connor looked up at Murphy, putting as much authority into his gaze as he could possibly muster, and squeezed his brother's hand about a breath tighter.
Murphy's bottom lip trembled, his face scrunching up the way it always had when he cried, and tried to keep the sobs locked inside. How would he live without his other half beside him? Why would God take Connor from him without letting him come along, too? It didn't make sense, and it sure as hell wasn't fair.
Cold light above us
Hope fills the heart
And fades away
Skin white as winter
As the sky returns to grey
"Th'moon's so pretty tonight, ain't it, Murph?" Connor managed to turn his head just enough to stare out the cracked window, his eyes reflecting the moon's soft light.
For just a moment, seeing the moon shining in those bright blue eyes of Connor's, Murphy felt a small spark of hope ignite in his heart. Maybe this wouldn't be their last day together; maybe God would take pity on them and let Connor live. But then Connor shivered violently, and coughed droplets of blood over his hand, arm, and the front of Murphy's sweater, and that hope died in an instant.
Connor had grown paler in the few minutes they'd been embracing, and Murphy slid his free hand down to his twin's side; the blood, slick and scarlet, poured onto his fingers, seeming to be flowing even faster now, and Murphy had to hold back the urge to scream curses at the sky.
It wouldn't be long now before Connor slipped away from the blood loss, and Murphy was determined to make these last moments as pleasant for his brother as he possibly could.
"Member that time, when we were eight, when we stole a candy bar from tha store, 'n we thought we'd got away with it, but when we got home Ma whipped us good." Murphy smirked at the memory.
Connor chuckled slightly. "N' then we hadda go back n' return the damn thing, 'n Ma wouldn't let us have candy fer months after that."
Neither one spoke after that, the memories of their childhood filling their minds without the words to prompt them, and then they were staring at each other again, tears welling in both their eyes. It was so hard to say goodbye, so hard to try and let go of the one person they'd known their whole lives, and the seconds were ticking by faster than they could count them.
"I love ye, Murphy. Know I haven't always acted like it, an' I been a stubborn fool fer mosta our lives, but I truly do. Could never've asked fer a better twin than ye." Connor smiled, his lips pulling up at the corners weakly, and he knew his time was almost up.
Murphy's tears splashed on Connor's cheeks, mingling with his own, and Connor ached to wipe those tears away, to comfort Murphy, though nothing he could say now would help any.
"I love ye, too, Connor. Wish I'd said it more now." Murphy sniffled again, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, but managed to smile back at his brother.
"Listen to Connor now. Ye go out there, an' ye finish what we started, 'til yer dyin' breath, Murph. God's not finished with ye yet. But now it's time fer me to go be with the angels. 'Raise me to thy right hand and count me among thy saints,' an' all that." Connor coughed again, sending more droplets of scarlet flying over the two of them.
There is nothing left of you
I can see it in your eyes
I keep holding onto you
But I can't bring you back to life
Connor's eyes locked on Murphy's, one last look before they parted, and Murphy could see the light in his eyes fade away to nothing, could feel his body sag as his soul left him.
Murphy would have shaken Connor's shoulders, would have tried to slap him awake, but the way his twin's dead body slumped in his arms took all the fight out of him. And then he wept, his sorrow breaking free from his throat in long, agonized cries. He gripped Connor tightly, pressing his face into his brother's bare chest, his tears flooding over the other man's skin.
Connor was gone. Connor was really dead, up in Heaven now, never to return to Murphy, and Murphy swore that his brother had taken his heart up there with him. There was an emptiness in his chest now, a numbness that was spreading to his limbs until the only thing he could do was fall down to the worn sheets and pillows and fall asleep, his arms still curled around his twin's body.
Sing the anthem of the angels
And say the last goodbye