ONE LAST TIME
by Collapse Overture (hopefully soon to have a new, better name!)
Disclaimer: No. Boondock Saints belongs to Troy Duffy. The song belongs to the band HIM.
A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED IT. I'm sorry, Sith Happens, that it took me so long. I finished school two weeks ago, but I've had writer's block. XD Well, rather, pairing block. I had this half-done, then just...stopped. My brain's flow stopped. Sorry again. And, I'm sure this isn't so good.
Notes: This was a challenge from Sith Happens, obviously. It wasn't supposed to be a songfic, but this song is the one that gave me the idea. Don't be mad. ): Sorry if it doesn't meet your standards. Hope everyone enjoys anyway.
They always had each other. There wasn't a single time that Connor could think of that they didn't have each other. Every second of their lives they'd turn and always be near the other. Connor loved Murphy, and Murphy loved Connor--that was that. There was no holding them back. But in the off chance that one was without the other, they both--wherever they were at the time--felt alone and lost. They needed each other; their bodies locked to one soul, incomplete without their significant other.
Over the years, Connor realized that they were both lucky and selfish to have had each other for their solid twenty-seven years of life. Honestly, there was no one else in the world that could say they were completely whole, even when they were with the person they loved with everything they had. They may have belonged together in the sense of love only, but they were also lost—like Murphy and Connor without each other. No one in the world's love could rival the blond twin's for his own brother. They were closer than anything and loved each other more than anyone could even fathom.
Is it so hard to believe
Our hearts are made to be broken by love
That in constant dying lies
The beauty of it all
Connor and Murphy MacManus were brothers, lovers, best friends, and soul mates. They'd always had each other, always been there for each other since birth. The blond twin was always the calmer of the two, more worrisome than Murphy himself, and also the one that never wanted to fight. Connor never wanted to be the one to raise a hand against his brother no matter the situation--it was always Murphy the more violent, easily angered one, and the blond the calm, collected brother--it was why they fit together so well. But there was always one thing that Connor wanted of his brother, though he was sure Murphy wouldn't give it to him. He wanted the two of them to be closer, their bond sealed. And he would do anything to have it.
Connor wanted Murphy to claim him--claim him in all ways possible.
My darling won't you feel
Love sweet heaven in
Our endless cry
The ten minutes it took for Murphy to return home from buying cigarettes seemed like forever. The MacManus brothers had never gone any further than hand-kisses and long embraces, but they always left Connor seeking for more--more kisses, more touches, more love. Love that he'd never thought that'd be expected from a brother. But he wanted it. Every time Murphy's hand covered his lips, his mind filled with a sickening vision of the darker twin crushing their bodies together, the gloved hand just keeping the blond quiet as Murphy had his way with Connor.
But that never happened. Murphy was strictly forbidden and it killed Connor with every breath they shared.
Just one kiss--one--just to test it, to feel it. He wanted to taste those lips--the dirty mouth that Murphy had (Murphy was always the more vulgar of the two). One kiss, and Connor's spirit would fly high and he'd be safe to say that he'd gotten what he wanted if only for one time.
Especially on nightmare-filled nights. Ice cold, shivering, clammy, Connor'd sneak into his brother's bed and wrap his shivering arms tightly around the pale form as if to feel better. Murphy never woke up; never noticed the blond's freezing, clammy skin clinging tightly to his own--either didn't notice, or just didn't mind enough to care. For weeks, he'd dream of his feelings slipping to Murphy's ears, his eyes proving the darker twin's discomfort...and he'd leave him--leave Connor all alone to his own devices--shattered and broken.
The only nights Connor was able to sleep were when his arms were around Murphy.
Oh at least you could try
For this one last time
Hell. He'd burn in Hell for his thoughts. If Murphy ever found out, he feared to be left alone--to die alone. He didn't want that. He needed Murphy; needed the warmth and the love and the protection.
Murphy. He never gave Murphy enough credit. Murphy would never leave him--he'd either accept Connor's feelings...or actually return them. There was no leaving. But if Connor were to die, he'd lose his brother. They may die together, but Connor'd be going to Hell alone--God would only accept the pure, correct brother.
Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd somehow stay together...if only for a little while.
Ever amazed how bright are the flames
We are burning in
Ever smiled at the tragedies
We hold inside
My darling won't you cherish
The fear of life that keeps
You and me so alive
"Connor, what th'fuck's wrong with ye?"
He was pulled violently from his thoughts by a frantic dark-haired brother, blowing smoke rings every which way--in his face, to the ceiling, into his clothes, on the mattress. The smoke was everywhere.
"Hm?" he inquired, closing his eyes to the lingering smoke.
Murphy growled and grasped his brother by the collar of his shirt, shaking him until his eyes opened. "'ve been home th' past fifteen minutes an' ye haven' said a word ta me! What th'fuck?"
Murphy'd been home? Th'fuck? He didn't even notice the door opening--usually he'd be all over the fact that the object of his affections was home, finally. But not this time, apparently, and it made him feel like shite. Since when was Murphy-sense not working? He'd have to fix that.
"What th'fuck're ye talkin' abou', Murph? 've been payin' attention ta--" his eyes locked on the clock whose secondhand twitched for a few moments when it reached the big six marking half an hour. Shite--cigarette runs usually take 10-15 minutes...and it had been a good half an hour since his brother had left. Murphy was right. "--'m sorry, Murph," he sighed. The dark-haired twin shook his head and wrapped his unoccupied arm around Connor.
"'s alrigh', Conn. It's gettin' late, though. Wanna go off ta Doc's an' grab a few drinks then hit tha sack?" His eyes held such utter hope that Connor didn't want to say no, but he wasn't in the mood for a drink.
"No, Murph. Not tanight."
Oh at least you could try
For this one last time
It could be alright
For this one last time
The darker twin raised an eyebrow. Since when did Connor ever turn down a drink? Now, apparently.
"Somethin' wrong, Conn?" he asked as he watched his slightly older twin move to curl up in bed. Was he sick? "...Conn?" Worriedly, he placed a pale hand on his brother's bare shoulder, jumping at the same time the blond did--Connor out of shock from the sudden contact, and Murphy out of the shock of Connor's sudden jumpiness. "Conn, oi, ya can talk ta me, ya know."
At Connor's sigh, he removed his hand from the warm shoulder. "I know, Murph, jus'--I can't with this."
"Can't? Why?"
There was no explaining it. Connor was in love with his brother--though it wasn't brotherly; not even in the least. Murphy's warm hand felt amazing on his shoulder, and he just couldn't help but wonder...what would it feel like in other places? No. No, this wasn't right. He needed to stop and Murphy needed to get off of his bed unless he was planning on doing something with those hands and--shite, he could feel himself heating up in places he'd rather not think about in ways pertaining to his twin brother.
"It's nothin', Murph, really," he had to reassure himself more than he did his brother.
Oh at least you could try
(and we just will be closer)
For this one last time
(let me fall into your arms)
It could be alright
(don't let us grow colder)
For this one last time
(let me close to your heart)
Without a word, Murphy grabbed his tanner twin's shoulder and flipped him onto his back to look into his face. "No, Connor, it's not nothin'. It's def'nit'ly somethin'. Now talk, brother mine." He made his point by pressing Connor's wrists into the mattress, preventing him from turning away. He'd get him to talk.
"We're...close, righ', Murphy?" His eyes looked anywhere but his brother.
Stupid question, Murphy thought, but answered anyway. "Aye, Conn, we are." He wasn't going to say anything more--he needed his brother to speak more and explain.
The blond twin sighed. "We're not...close enough, not for me," he said quietly, hoping his captor didn't hear, but he knew it'd have to be said aloud eventually. "I want more, Murph. 's not enough. 'm sorry, but I need--" Suddenly, the hands pinning his wrists moved--one grabbing his chin, the other quieting him. Was Murphy rejecting him; tired of listening?--no. He wasn't like that. "...Murph?"
He smirked. "'ve been waitin' fer ya ta say somethin' like tha', me brother." He leaned down and pressed their lips together--no hands--softly for a few moments before pulling back. "Ye're right. We ain't been close enough. I love ya, Connor. Let's complete ourselves, me brother, me lover, me soul."
At that moment, Connor realized two things--one being: somewhere along the way, Murphy had become more sentimental than himself, and more understanding of such things than he was three hours before (after all, they had fought hours before about the fact that one of them smoked the other's last cigarette--probably Murphy since he had to do the smoke run)--and the second being: Connor MacManus loved Murphy MacManus more than anything in the world; they were one soul, after all.
For this one last time
(let me close to your heart)
If someone liked, please say so. ): I am not very happy with this, after all.