Chapter 3: Madness In Me

Connor isn't jealous. He tells himself that every night before he goes to bed just so that he can continue to lie beside his twin without shoving the other man onto the floor, or worse. He whispers the words to himself once he's sure Murphy's asleep, his fists clenching tightly and his nails digging into his palms, almost as if those words have become a holy prayer that he can throw up to the Lord when he needs the most help.

Connor isn't jealous, not really. He'd just really like to take a knife to Daryl's throat sometimes. In fact, he'd like more than anything to beat Daryl's face in, ruin it forever, but that would be too much like hitting Murphy, and so he must control himself.

Sometimes, though, he'd like to take a knife to Murphy's throat, too. Much as he loves his twin brother and knows that he would never do anything to actually injure him, Connor would love to just beat him to a pulp. Whether this is because Murphy has been fucking Daryl behind his back or because Connor would rather be the one fucking Daryl he isn't sure.

And that frightens him a little bit, to not understand why he's jealous, or who he's jealous of. Because if he's being honest with himself he really is jealous, he just really doesn't want to admit it.

For the first time in his life, in both of their lives, Connor has found a reason to be jealous of Murphy.

Because Daryl Dixon is drop-dead gorgeous, just like Murphy. They look so alike you'd be hard-pressed to find a single person who didn't think they really were identical twins somehow lost at birth. In fact, if Connor, Murphy, and Daryl stood next to each other you'd be hard-pressed to find a single person who would believe that Connor and Murphy are twins, even though that's the truth.

And in a way it just isn't fair that those two mirror-images are off fucking each other. Something about it seems more taboo than the fact that Connor and Murphy have been sleeping together since they were fourteen and they actually are of the same womb.

Connor lays there at night trying to picture what Murphy and Daryl's lovemaking looks like. He's certain that Daryl makes the same facial expressions as Murphy, but to see the two of them looking the same way at the same time… Well, Connor's getting a little too close to the clasp on his jeans just thinking about it.

Connor isn't jealous. He just hates the way Daryl's name sounds on his brother's lips. Because Murphy's been talking in his sleep lately, a trait he had when he was a kid that somehow cleared up through his teen years and seems to have just resurfaced now.

Even now as Murphy tosses and turns beside Connor on their small mattress a whisper ghosts from his lips. "Daryl."

What Connor wouldn't give to know what Murphy is dreaming about right now. What Connor wouldn't give to hear his own name tumbling from Murphy's mouth during slumber. He used to hear it sometimes when they were kids. It was how they started sleeping together in the first place, though back then it was much more innocent.

Murphy would roll over on his bed and would say Connor's name, and Connor would snap awake as if he'd been electrocuted. Murphy needed him, and he was always right there, ready to comfort his brother. But when he'd peer over at his twin he'd see the cherubic face perfectly smooth in his sleep, and Connor would feel a rush of heat flood through his body, because there was something mighty special in having Murphy dream about him. And then Connor would carefully slide into bed beside his brother, hold him close, whisper in his ear, all just to hear Murphy say his name that way again.

As they got older all Connor had to do to hear Murphy say his name that way would be to fuck him just right, hit the perfect spot, rub up on the boy's cock a bit. Murphy would melt into whispers and cries of Connor's name, and that would be enough to push Connor over the edge, too. Because the way Murphy said Connor's name was incredible, like a drug he just couldn't get enough of, something he needed injected straight into his bloodstream.

Truth be told that's why he liked to top so much when they were together. Murphy didn't seem to mind taking bottom, though; hell, he'd done it plenty of times for Daryl, too.

"Daryl." Murphy mumbles again, his hand moving forward in that limp, disconnected way his limbs sometimes did when he was deep in dreams.

Murphy's searching hand finds Connor's waist, pulls slightly. Connor goes with the motion, not wanting to wake his brother.

Connor isn't jealous. He just wants to find a way to make Murphy forget about Daryl forever, make him remember who his true love is. Because Connor loves Murphy unconditionally. He's loved Murphy since the day they were born, and he's never stopped, even now. He knows that they're soul mates, fated to be together; that's why they're twins instead of just brothers, neither one older than the other except by a few minutes that don't really matter.

Murphy used to know that fact better than anyone. Murphy never gave up on their love, even when Connor had refused to see it. Connor had rejected the idea at first, had convinced himself that he and Murphy just needed to get some girlfriends and that would cure Murphy's nonsensical talk. But one girl after another had come and gone in Connor's life and he never felt satisfied, never felt quite right. Soon enough Murphy's nonsensical talk was starting to sound just a little bit more logical. And when Connor finally saw what Murphy had known all along it had been perfect, bliss. Murphy was happier than he'd been his whole life, and Connor was on top of the world.

So when had the tables turned? When did Connor become the one to fight for their love while Murphy strayed from the truth? Why did the one to figure out their relationship suddenly want to destroy it?

Connor sniffles quietly, wiping a tear from his eye. In a way he understands why Murphy is straying. He'd probably have made a move on Dixon if Murphy hadn't beaten him to the punch, and then he'd be the one doing a hell of a lot of apologizing while Murphy admitted to his jealousy. He knows it must be intriguing to be with someone who looks so much like you, to see yourself through someone else's eyes, in a way. But fuck if it doesn't hurt like a bullet lodging itself straight through his chest.

Connor is jealous. And now he can't sleep.