"Not like that, ya idjit."
Connor laughed when his brother turned green. Murphy gagged on the bitter smoke, coughing it out in puffs. His eyes watered. Why the hell did Connor like these so much anyhow? He got his answer when he felt his head float away from his shoulders.
"Fuck…"
Connor had dragged him out to the park, saying he had a surprise. It made his stomach turn to knots, the way Connor had said it. Finding out he had just wanted to smoke was a bit of an anti-climax.
He took another drag, and didn't cough so much this time. He turned to look at Connor, grinning madly.
"This is fucken cool. Where'd ya get 'em?"
Connor took a long drag and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he exhaled languorously through his mouth. Murphy became fascinated by a piece of trash at his feet, cheeks reddening. He knew immediately he was going to be addicted.
"Filched 'em from Uncle Sibeal's jacket last night."
Both Connor and Murphy laughed, remembering the way Ma and Aunt Mary had to steer the man's wobbly arse home after dinner last night. He grinned at Connor and took another drag.
"Even if by some chance tha man realizes they're gone, he'll just think he smoked 'em all."
He exhaled slowly, like Connor.
"Fucken brilliant, these are."
They both stomped out their butts in unison and turned to walk back home. They fell in step as was their nature, flipping their coat collars against the cold. They loped lazily down the street, completely content in the present activity.
They didn't speak, but it was a mercifully easy silence, a welcome change to the many silences they'd had over the past several months. Murphy smiled and listened to his brother's footsteps match his own. He started humming a tune and it was Connor's turn to smile.
When they reached the house, they made straight for the kitchen. Ma wasn't home and sneaking some food before dinner was easy. Murphy toasted the bread, Connor boiled the water for tea. Murphy buttered, Connor jammed. They ate in companionable silence, the only sounds being the cat outside and Connor's munching.
Murphy teetered in his chair absently, eyes wandering out the window. He nearly fell ass over teakettle when Connor actually spoke.
"Ya know tha new girl in class?"
Murphy looked blankly at his brother for a moment before responding.
"Tha red-head, Kaitlin?"
Connor nodded.
"Aye, that's the one."
"What about her?"
"I asked her out."
They had talked to girls a lot, both of them; but mostly as friends, just for a bit of a flirt and not much more. Connor had never indicated any desire to date, and the sudden visual of what Connor might do with a red-headed girlfriend put him in a momentary state of shock. Murphy hadn't realized his jaw was hanging until he noticed Connor looking fidgety.
"Christ Murph, you'll let flies in. Didja hear what I said?"
Murphy flushed slightly, frowned and bit back irritably.
"Of course I heard ya, m'not deaf."
Connor gave an exasperated sigh.
"Well? Whaddya think?"
Now Murphy was just confused. Why did Connor care what he thought? It's not like Murphy had expressed any interest in her. He didn't even like her.
"Are ya askin fer my blessin'?"
Connor scowled.
"No, m'not. I'm askin' about Kaitlin. Whaddya think of her?"
Murphy pulled a face.
"I dunno, she seems a stuck up tart to me. Always with a gaggle o'girls 'round her. She is rather pretty, though. Why'd ya pick her?"
Connor wanted to say 'because she has your eyes'. He just grinned wolfishly instead.
"Everyone knows red-heads are fiery and bold. Maybe I'll get lucky."
Murphy sniggered and shook his head.
"Nah, ya won't," he said matter-of-factly.
Connor raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Oh no?"
"Uh-uh."
Murphy grinned.
"And why not?"
"'Cause after a week, she'll realize she picked wrong an she'll throw ya over fer me instead."
Murphy laughed loud and scampered out of the kitchen, dodging bread crusts and curses.
xXxXxXx
In the beginning, Connor dating Kaitlin was a welcome bit of relief for Murphy. He and Connor normally spent every waking moment together. It had started to grate on Murphy's sanity and resolve.
When Connor was gone he could actually concentrate on his homework. No Connor there across the room spread out on his bed… his shirt all pushed up from shifting around, brow furrowed in concentration on his book… being ignorantly gorgeous and a torment to him.
Murphy sometimes fancied Connor still felt the same way, and was rewarded every now and then by catching a longing glance and subsequent blush upon his brothers cheeks. All he could do in those instances, though, was bite his cheek and save the beautiful moment for his tortured dreams.
Murphy began to look forward to the hour or two a week Connor would spend with Kaitlin. He never really took their dating too seriously and assumed it would end sooner rather than later. He'd taken to walking around their neighborhood during that time, drawing what he saw. Murphy didn't think much of his work, but he supposed it was an outlet. It was something that gave him a bit of a thrill, a secret pleasure hidden from his twin.
The drawing became such a distraction that Murphy hadn't realized the number of drawings had started to grow exponentially every week. An hour or two turned into five or six, which turned into nearly every day. Pretty soon Murphy hardly saw Connor at all except at school and before bed.
He began to notice other things as well.
Connor came home one night with a hickey on his neck and a smug look on his face as he washed for bed. Murphy's ire was such that he burned to physically remove that look from his brother's face. His anger frightened him. Connor was only doing what any other red-blooded teenage male was, why did it make a difference? A tiny voice inside answered him coldly.
He's forgotten about you.
A wave of nausea so severe had completely overtaken him at the thought. He ran past his bewildered twin, and sank pitifully to his knees on the floor as the contents of his stomach forced itself up. Connor was at his back in an instant, his voice frantic. Murphy couldn't hear what he was saying over the roar of pain in his ears, over the echoes of his retching. He felt Connor's touch like a burn on his back and he shivered in agony.
Satisfied he was done vomiting, Murphy rose quickly and sharply. He flushed the toilet, washed his face and brushed his teeth. Connor's voice was like a distant whine, the pain hadn't stopped yelling in his ears.
When he was done he looked at Connor through the mirror in front of him. His face was twisted in beautiful concern, but Murphy's eyes slid to the hickey on his neck. Connor gasped sharply and covered it with his hand, but it was too late. He knew it had been seen.
Murphy forced a rueful smile and raised an eyebrow.
"Had fun didja?"
He kept his tone light, praying fervently on the inside that his brother would take the quip at face value. Murphy watched Connor consider for a moment, then roll his eyes and drop his hand.
"Aye, that I did."
"Ya better wear a turtle neck tamorrow, Ma'll have yer head on a spit."
Connor snorted, and then cast a pointed look at his brother.
"Are ya alright, Murph?"
Murphy looked convincingly confused for a moment before answering.
"Oh! Aye. Uncle Sibeal and his fucken shepherd's pie. I haven't the foggiest where he got the idea ta be a culinary master. I wouldn't ha' fed it ta tha cats."
Connor laughed and clapped his brothers back in sympathy.
"Well, then. Glad I missed it."
They both slid into their respective beds, casting each other wary smiles before they turned the lights off. Murphy, exhausted from the retching fell straight to sleep.
Connor lay awake for hours. He'd allowed his brother's joking to placate him, but Murphy's eyes never lie and they hadn't been laughing.