Author's Note: This chapter is long overdue. And I'm very sorry for the delay. I promised to never abandon this story, to see it through to the end, and I still intend to do that. So for anyone who is still interested, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And to those that commented and/or liked this story, or maybe just stopped by to give it a read, it was noticed and very much appreciated. Thank you again. And much love to you all.
Silence. Complete fucking silence. No one moved. No one spoke. No one even blinked for what felt like an eternity as the wide-eyed pair on the couch stared at the young couple across the room.
Connor keeps his eyes locked on their scowling mother as he slowly moves his hand further from his brother's engorged cock. Rain drips from his hair but has no cooling effect as he holds his breath and waits, keeping his body positioned to block his lover from prying eyes. His mind screams to protect his Murph...protect, protect, fucking protect.
Murphy is the first to make a sound. It isn't much of anything, really, just a change in position as he lowers his bare feet to the floor but to Connor it feels like his lover pulls a mile away from him. Murphy's thighs relax their hold on his body and even though fingers still grip Connor's shoulders, there's a discernable shift of emotion. Anxiety flows off his twin in waves, the need to run palpable as Murphy fights the adrenalin coursing through his veins.
"Conn," Murphy's soft voice cuts through the eerie quiet in the MacManus home, his tone no longer filled with teasing innuendo but instead overflowing with stark reality. "Get off me."
"You heard your brother, Connor. Get off him," Annabelle hissed, her response dripping with icy venom as her eyes bore a hole into her eldest.
Connor turns back to look at his boyfriend, ignoring their mother completely. Right now, in his world, only Murphy exists. His fingers reach for Murphy's chin and he gently lifts his head, gazing into those ocean blue eyes that he loves so much. Pain...there's so much pain staring back that it steals the breath from Connor's lungs and nearly knocks him to the ground. Tears had formed but not yet overflowed as burgeoning despair threatens to slowly devour the darker twin, piece by piece.
"I'm sorry," Murphy silently mouths, wishing he could somehow spare Connor from the wrath that's about to befall them while at the same time, placing blame for being caught solely upon himself.
"We didn't do anything wrong," Connor insists, hoping to God Murphy believes him. "All we did was fall in love."
Murphy swallows the lump in his throat and instantly calms. Connor's voice, his touch, is all he ever needs to feel secure.
"All we did was fall in love," Murphy whispers with a nod of his head, keeping eye contact with his chosen one while reinforcing their unique connection. Connor releases Murphy's chin and he slides his hand to cup his cheek, pausing for only a moment before quickly pecking his boyfriend's mouth. It doesn't matter that their family is in the room, watching them. It makes no difference to Connor, none at all. He isn't willing to sacrifice a small display of tenderness with the man he loves for some judgmental jackasses, even if they are his ma and uncle.
"My God, what are you boys doing?" Sibeal exclaims when he finally finds his voice, his outrage and shock mingled together into a bewildered cocktail of indignation.
Connor leans back to take his weight off his lover and he places his hands on Murphy's slender hips, guiding him off of the wooden credenza as jagged fingernails dig into his bare skin. They move together fluidly, speaking with their eyes and listening with their hearts as they prepare to face their family, united as one.
Murphy pivots in place and he turns toward the wall to hide his exposure, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he fumbles with his button-fly. Rain soaked hair drips onto broad shoulders and the tiniest trickle runs down Murphy's spine, mesmerizing Connor with its slow path down the hot skin. A quiet curse of frustration jolts Connor back to reality and despite the situation, he can't help but smile…..his Murph can distract him like no other.
Once the clothing is situated, the twins turn in unison and stand shoulder to shoulder facing the elders. Connor feels the warmth of Murphy's hand next to his, almost as if his skin is calling out for him, and he instantly laces their fingers together, gently squeezing.
"I'm confused," Sibeal says, looking from one brother to the next before turning toward the fuming woman on his right. "Annabelle, did you know about this?"
"I knew," Annabelle admits through clenched teeth and even though they didn't think it was possible, her glare actually intensifies.
"But—they're brothers. Twins. How? Why?" Sibeal rambles, not really expecting any sort of response. He turns his attention back to Murphy as his mind focuses on something he might actually accept, a morsel from the recent past he can grasp onto like a lifeline. "What about Jonathan? You were just with him at the pub. I thought you two were…..together."
"We broke up awhile ago," Murphy mumbles, wincing at the mention of his ex-boyfriend's name. He never wants to hear that name again but more importantly, he doesn't want Connor to be reminded of the man who was his "first" in far too many ways. "I was just returning something to him tonight."
"But we saw you, I saw you, kissing Jonathan the night you graduated. You were across the street from the pub, on the steps," Sibeal reminds them as he leans forward to make his point, his confusion growing by the minute as he struggles to make sense of the situation. His brow wrinkles with effort as his mind replays what he had witnessed a few days prior…..the tender kiss, the familiarity between lovers, the fiery passion. "That was just a couple nights ago, Murphy. You don't kiss someone like that and not mean it."
"I meant it," Murphy instantly responds as he focuses on his twin, his blue eyes asking permission. Only their ma and Jonathan know who Murphy was kissing in the shadows that night and if Connor wants that moment to remain private, Murphy will honor that decision.
"I'm the one Murphy was kissing," Connor proudly announces as he stands a bit taller, leaving no room for dispute as he claims his brother as his own. "Not Jonathan. Me. I'm Murphy's boyfriend."
Murphy smiles as his stomach floods with warmth. He never expected his brother to be so bold and it surprises the younger twin in the most wonderful way. Murphy has always belonged to Connor, as far back as he can remember, his heart was Conn's. But to have him confirm their relationship so openly to their family…..well, that's something Murphy never dreamed would happen.
"We're in love," Murphy softly adds, his voice trembling with the purest emotion. They'd said those words to each other so many times, in so many ways, yet it fails to lose its impact. Instead of weakening from repetition, their love grows more profound and precious with each spoken syllable.
"No, you're not. You're in lust," Annabelle corrects, instantly devaluing her son's words. She doesn't see a beautiful love affair or the lifelong commitment between two men in love. Annabelle only sees sin. Her promise to try to understand is a distant memory, obliterated by the sight of her children groping each other. "That's all this is, Murphy. You're a horny little bugger lusting after your own flesh and blood. I should have separated you boys a long time ago instead of taking you to that priest."
It would be less painful if Annabelle would simply cut out Murphy's heart with a dull knife instead of bringing up the most traumatic event in his life. He's dealt with his past as best he can and there are times when Murphy actually feels strong enough to withstand the memories. But being blindsided...by his own mother. It's like being violated all over again.
Murphy bites his lip in a useless attempt to stop the immediate buildup of tears and he wonders if Annabelle's comment is intentional. She has to know how her words affect him, how deeply they cut. She has to fucking know.
"Unfortunately, Father O'Shea's dead now. He can't help us with this," Sibeal states, causing Murphy to shudder at the name that still haunts him.
"Connor," Murphy quietly whines his brother's name as that old wound rips open, painful and raw. He feels himself curling inward as diseased memories claw at his soul, staining him with its putrid decay and threatening to crush him once more. God, it's like he can't fucking breathe.
Connor tugs on his hand and pulls him closer, anchoring him with his calming presence and soothing voice. "It's okay. I'm here, Murph. I'm right here."
Murphy nods as panic-filled eyes seek out his partner, his soul seeking asylum from his history of horrors. He wipes at his face and nods again in an attempt to convince himself that he's fine, even though he's anything but.
"Uncle Sibeal doesn't know what happened," Connor explains as his heart tightens painfully in his chest. "And ma…..well, listen to her. She doesn't realize what she said."
Annabelle and Sibeal talk like the twins aren't there and as Murphy listens to them argue, he realizes Connor is correct. Sibeal is utterly clueless about Murphy's history and their ma is too consumed with rage and embarrassment to realize she struck a nerve.
"We'll separate them immediately. Murphy will come with me and Connor will stay at home," Sibeal states, attempting to stay calm and reasonable. The twins have always been close but this…..my God, how could they? No, it's a mistake. Connor likes girls. And Murphy…..well, Murphy is gay. He's lonely and confused and terribly hurt after his breakup with Jonathan. Connor was just comforting his brother, caring for his twin like he always does and it went a bit too far, that's all. Sibeal nods at his own logic, satisfied with the narrative his mind created while declaring in a firm voice, "We can fix this."
"It's not broken. I'm not broken," Murphy weakly mumbles to no one in particular as a cold sweat forms on his brow, remembering whispered lies of long ago that still cling to him like black mold. Fucking hell, will he ever be free from that priest's abuse? The man is dead and buried yet Murphy still wonders if Father O'Shea was right. Maybe, just maybe, he really is fucked up beyond repair.
Just as Murphy's head dips with doubt and shame and his eyes overflow with salty tears, Connor whispers three words that bring Murphy back to his center and remind him what's most important in his life.
"You're my Murph."
With that simple yet heartfelt expression, what had begun to crumble is again rebuilt. Love intercepts pain and pushes the darkness back to the bowels of hell, where it belongs. Murphy takes a cleansing breath and wipes at his face before feeling for the token of love in his pocket, his finger stroking the ceramic heart over his soulmate's engraved name.
"Do you want to leave? We can go right now if that's what you want," Connor offers with a tilt of his head, recapturing his brother's eye with a gaze that's gentle and understanding. "Just say the word and we're the fuck out of here."
Leaving is certainly an attractive option but that would only delay the ugly confrontation. And as much as Murphy wants to run away and never look back, he also knows they need to fight for their relationship, even if their family condemns them in the process.
"Separating them won't work," Annabelle states matter-of-factly, knowing far more about her sons' relationship than she cares to admit. Her stomach churns as she thinks about her boys and the way they kiss, how tightly they cling to each other, the emotion on their faces. Their love has only deepened with time and her disapproval means nothing to her children, absolutely nothing.
"It was just a kiss or two, Annabelle. Nothing more than teenage curiosity and raging hormones," Sibeal reasons. "We can stop this from going any further."
"Too late," Murphy loudly announces, not giving a shit if his mother is embarrassed by his admission.
"What did you say?" Sibeal asks, challenging his defiant young nephew to repeat himself.
"I said you're too fucking late," Murphy responds louder than before, his brash words sending shock waves through his family.
"No, you boys didn't. You…..you couldn't," Sibeal stammers as he contemplates what sins of the flesh his nephews may have committed. His eyes slowly drop to their conjoined hands and he notes how Connor's thumb caresses Murphy's skin not with the familiarity of siblings, but with the intimacy of lovers.
Annabelle suddenly springs to her feet as she unleashes her fury in a barrage of screaming obscenities that shakes the dust from the rafters. She advances on the stunned twins before focusing on the younger sibling with the precision of a sniper, blaming Murphy for ruining their family and sullying his twin with lewd and salacious acts.
Murphy stands in place, silent and unmoving, as he takes the brunt of her attack. He tries not to listen, he tries to ignore what's said, but Annabelle isn't a woman easily disregarded. Murphy trembles with emotion even as he vows to take everything his mother dishes out, no matter how vile or cruel, as long as it isn't directed at Connor.
"I'm in love with him, Ma," Murphy says when Annabelle pauses to take a breath. He wants her to understand how much he loves Connor and why. He wants to tell her about their first time together, how beautiful it was, even if it was in a dirty old barn. And Murphy wants to explain how happy they are, so happy that he can't put it into words without crying. He struggles to find the words that capture his emotions but it's too overwhelming to define and all he can do is break it down into three simple words. "I love him."
The slap to his face is a shock to everyone in the room, including the woman who dealt it. Murphy's head snaps to the side from the force of the blow and he slowly turns his head back toward his mother as her eyes widen in shock.
"Murphy," Annabelle whispers as her son's cheek reddens with the imprint of her fingers and a slight welt forms on his cheekbone. Murphy's pale skin split open where her ring connected with his flesh and as a small bead of blood forms, Annabelle struggles to control her emotions. She's cuffed her son on the back of his head a million times, she's tugged on his hair when it's too long for her liking and once or twice when he was little, she spanked him. But never once did she leave a mark on her child, not one time was there a welt or a bruise or any type of blemish caused by her hand. Until today.
"Oh my God," she mumbles and reaches forward to touch his cheek, not with malice but with regret. Murphy flinches slightly and he pulls back just as Connor shakes off his stupor and his voice rings out, loud and true.
Connor isn't about to let Murphy be attacked by anyone, not even their own mother. He releases Murphy's hand and steps in front of him, creating a shield with his body as he defends his life partner at the top of his lungs. His voice is so loud that the neighbor's dog begins to howl and Annabelle takes a reactive step backward even as her own yelling begins anew.
Words overlap as they struggle to be heard and Sibeal joins the fray as he implores everyone to calm down, his throat straining with effort. He pulls at Annabelle's arm until she relents and turns away from her children, tears leaking from her eyes as her hands rise to cover her face.
A warm hand on Connor's bicep can't stop the words directed at Annabelle's retreating form, the older twin is far too incensed to stop so abruptly, and he continues his tirade as their mother silently steadies herself at the window.
"Conn, it's okay."
"No it's not fucking okay Murphy, not by a long shot," Connor states with a shake of his head and a glare at his mother's back, his outrage still evident in his tone. "Jesus Christ, she fucking hit you."
Murphy waits for Connor to calm down as his cheek begins to throb, the thumping pain keeping rhythm with his brother's rapid breaths.
"What the fuck's wrong with you ma? Have you lost your fucking mind?" Connor loudly asks, which in truth is more of an accusation than a question. His protective mode is fully engaged, his eyes are wild and he's primed for a fight…..one wrong word from Annabelle and he'll let loose again without fear of reprisal. "Don't you ever touch Murphy again. I mean it ma, keep your fucking hands off him."
"Please, Connor. That's enough, okay?"
The soft sound of Murphy's voice pierces through his brother's fury, distracting and soothing him at the same time. Connor turns toward his twin, his face reddened from anger and his chest heaving with exertion. His eyes soften before focusing on Murphy's cheek, noting the swelling that accompanies the blood.
"Fuck, you're bleeding. And that'll bruise for sure."
"It's not that bad," Murphy says with a slight shrug of his shoulder as his thumb wipes away the blood, dismissing the violence as if it's nothing.
"Come with me," Connor commands as he takes Murphy by the wrist and leads him into the kitchen. He releases his twin to gather some ice, wrapping it in a dishtowel before lifting the cold compress toward his lover's face. Murphy winces when the cloth touches his skin and Connor briefly pulls it away, responding with a soft, "Sorry."
"You worry too much," Murphy says knowingly with a slight smile on his lips as he watches the crease between his brother's eyes deepen. "I'm fine, honest."
But it's not Murphy's physical state Connor is most concerned about. His eyes search Murphy's face, knowing how close to home Annabelle's words had been. On their very first date, Murphy confessed that he was afraid Connor was going to hell with him, believing that he somehow condemned Connor with his love. Connor did his best to convince Murphy otherwise but that residual fear is still present…..and Annabelle had unknowingly tapped into it.
"Ma's full of shit, Murph. You know that, right?"
"I know," Murphy nods in understanding, even though his eyes remain haunted. Before Connor can delve further, their moment of comfort is interrupted when Murphy notices movement over his brother's shoulder.
"Maybe…..maybe you can get some dry clothes for us. And a towel, there's a clean one in our bathroom we can share," Murphy suggests with a tilt of his head, his words soft and breathy. Fucking hell, he feels guilty for working Connor like this but he needs to get him away from their mother right fucking now, even if it's only for a few minutes. "Okay?"
"Murph….." Connor begins, prepared to offer resistance even as his brow furrows with confusion. His eyes run over his brother's body and he takes stock of his condition before quietly asking, "You're cold?"
The sound of footsteps cause Connor to glance over his shoulder as Annabelle and Sibeal enter the room, their calm demeanor surprising the light haired man. He turns and faces them, keeping himself strategically placed in front of Murphy as his eyes narrow in a challenge.
"Do as your brother asks, Connor. Go upstairs and get a towel and some dry clothes," Annabelle quietly orders, her voice holding a tremor that sounds completely foreign.
"Don't worry, lad. There'll be no more yelling," Sibeal promises as his eyes drift to the man shielded behind his twin. "Or hitting."
Annabelle stares at her feet as she slowly walks past her sons, the shuffling sound of her steps echoing in the small room. She sits at the kitchen table with a loud sigh but otherwise remains silent and unmoving as Connor's internal debate begins.
He doesn't want to leave Murphy, not even for a couple minutes to retrieve a much-needed towel and clothing. But Murphy is cold and once Connor sees the goosebumps on his boyfriend's pale flesh, the decision is made. He'll do as his brother asks but at the same time, he'll hold Sibeal to his promise.
"No yelling or hitting," Connor demands, staring at his uncle until the old man nods in agreement. His eyes shift to his mother as he evaluates her demeanor, quickly concluding that the worst seems over. Connor then turns toward Murphy and he softens his voice as he passes the compress to his boyfriend, "Keep the ice on your face. I'll only be a few minutes."
Murphy nods as he lifts the dishtowel to his cheek and Connor pauses for only a moment before he rushes from the room, taking the stairs two at a time.
"Sit down, lad," Sibeal says as he pulls out the chair directly across from Annabelle. "It's okay, we just want to talk."
"Without Connor. That's what you want, right?" Murphy says knowingly but despite his apprehension, he joins his mother at the table. "Well go ahead, talk."
Connor is gone a grand total of three minutes and 32 seconds before he returns to the first floor. During his absence, an argument's begun as the elders practically interrogate the dark haired twin.
"I told you, we're in love. We do everything any other couple does," Murphy says in response to a question his brother doesn't hear, blushing slightly as Connor pauses unnoticed in the doorway.
"What do you think will happen when Connor stops loving you the way you want? When he says it's over," Annabelle asks as she taps loudly on the table to make her point. When Murphy fails to respond, when he sits silent and unmoving, she leans back with a heavy sigh and states, "It's all very exciting now but it won't last. Connor will grow tired of this, he'll get sick of hiding and he'll move on with someone else."
"Listen to your mother, boy. It's only a matter of time," Sibeal adds in an attempt to persuade his nephew.
"My love doesn't have an expiration date," Connor simply states as he moves to stand behind his partner. He rests a warm hand on Murphy's shoulder and gently squeezes, adding, "Murphy knows that."
"I'm your mother," Annabelle states, clearing her throat as her eyes shift to her oldest son. "I only want what's best for you."
"Murphy's best for me."
Connor drapes the towel over Murphy's bare shoulders as his brother pivots in his seat but before he can stand, Annabelle slides to the chair next to her son and she places her hand gently on his forearm. Murphy is so shocked by this action, by her tenderness, that he stares dumbfounded at her for a moment before glancing up at his brother, his expression both confused and tortured.
"Come on, let's go," Connor says, motioning toward the door with his head.
"Please wait, Murphy," she whispers, her eyes begging him to stay.
"Why should I?" Murphy's voice cracks with emotion as he asks that question, the throbbing pain in his cheek dwarfed by the pain radiating through his heart. "Give me one good reason, Ma. Just one."
The silence in the room is deafening as Annabelle suddenly realizes that she can't make amends for her behavior, there's no time left to rectify the past and she'll never be able to repair the damage she caused to her youngest child. She lowers her eyes as she begins to speak, simply stating that she doesn't approve of their relationship. Her voice trembles when she whispers how much she loves them…..both of them. And she finally looks at her youngest son again as her thumb strokes his arm, apologizing for striking him.
"I told you I'd try to understand…..about you and Connor. But I think it would be better if I pretend it never happened, that you boys are nothing more than brothers," Annabelle reasons, finally coming up with a plan she can live with. "And if we can do that, then maybe we can still be a family."
Murphy doesn't have to think about his answer, not for one second. He's not willing to hide something from people that already know about it, from family that's supposed to love them unconditionally. He pulls his arm free from his mother's hand as he announces with the conviction of a man deeply in love, "No, I won't compromise our relationship. Not for you, not for Uncle Sibeal…..not for anyone. And I'll never pretend it didn't happen. So if you can't accept us as a couple then I have nothing more to say."
"I see," Annabelle mumbles as she glances at her eldest son, hoping he'd step in and stop this confrontation but all Connor does is stand behind his lover in unwavering support. She takes a deep breath, knowing she won't be able to sway either son to her line of thinking, and she states, "I can't accept what you're doing. And I never will. So I suppose we're done then."
Murphy's face contorts at her words and he waits for her to reconsider her position but she never does. A mother's rejection is a painful thing for a child to experience, regardless of his age, and Murphy struggles to come to grips with the situation. He feels Connor's hand return to his shoulder and the stroking of his thumb across his skin is a comfort, although the pain of parental rejection retains a stifling grip Murphy never expected.
"You never accepted me for me," Murphy mumbles as he blinks back tears and his body begins to tremble. "Not once. I should have known better than to think you ever would."
"Stop being so dramatic, Murphy," Annabelle responds with a shake of her head, her tone bitter and condescending. "You're 18. Start acting like it."
Murphy stares at her, unblinking, and she stares right back at him as she crosses her arms over her chest. He doesn't know what he's waiting for…..he's numb and confused and so fucking exhausted.
Connor waits a moment for his mother to apologize for her snide remark but when she remains quiet, he's had enough. "I'm done letting you hurt him, Ma. Never again."
A pat to the shoulder is all Murphy needs and as he stands and walks to the door hand-in-hand with his boyfriend, Sibeal's desperation takes hold. He needs to talk some sense into everyone before things get worse, before the situation is exposed and the judgement of their community rains down on them all. He fears for himself, for his business…..but most of all, he fears for his nephews.
"Look at your sons, Annabelle. They can't keep their hands off each other. I've noticed it and so have you. They won't be able to hide it forever," Sibeal states, his words painfully obvious. He runs his hand over his face before closing his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. "This is a small town, it's not safe for them here. People will find out what they're doing."
"Not if we leave," Connor responds, pausing at the back door.
"What do you mean, leave? Where will you go?" Sibeal asks, shocked by this possibility but sensing its inevitability.
"America."
"Connor got us passports, we can go anytime…..once we find a way to get there, that is," Murphy explains, hoping for a reasonable reaction but not really giving a shit how either of them respond.
"Sibeal," Annabelle's eyes dart from son to son before settling on their elderly uncle. "Arrange transport to America for them. As soon as possible."