Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints.
Sub Disclaimer: I do not own Damien Rice's music and lyrics.
NB: Sensitive readers tread lightly.
Story Warnings: Incest, Language, Sensitive Religious Content, MalexMale
Pairing: Twincest (Connor/Murphy)
Movie Verse: First Movie; Pre Canon - Canon / Canon Deviation
Authors Note: This is my attempt at a Boondock Saints incest story between Connor and Murphy MacManus, I won't say it's realistically portrayed because that depends on the readers views.
Sub note: *Connor and Murphy's ages are canon, as stated by them in a deleted movie scene when they receive a call from their mother.
Chapter Three
Cold, cold water surrounds me now
And all I've got is your hand...
Connor woke up the following morning to the sound of running water, uneven splatters pelting concrete and tile filling the small space of the loft. The sound of the street below was more noticeable as well, so Connor assumed the windows above their beds were open, letting in the morning air, which wasn't cold. Strange weather.
He was lying on his front, the side of his face pressed into his lumpy pillow and his arms somewhere underneath his single blanket which was tangled around him, a sign of another restless night but at least it had been dreamless. Connor inhaled deeply, tired and irritable and knowing full well that he had a day at work to face, and after a cough and sniff he opened his eyes…
…to the sight of Murphy's entire naked back where he stood in the shower just a few meters away.
Connor's eyes widened slightly, his heart rate sped up, a certain traitorous place on his tired body tightened and warmed inappropriately and he turned his face fully into his pillow, wanting to scream as he considered smothering himself, his fists finding the sides of the pillow and squeezing until his knuckles turned white.
He'd seen Murphy naked countless times, from the time they'd been little boys they'd shared a room, bathroom, clothes and personal space and so many other things brothers shared. They were very close siblings, closer than close and he knew what Murphy looked like stark naked…and yet there he lay, so affected by it in a way that would quickly drive him mad and make him hate himself, from just the sight of his sibling naked in the shower.
'Jesus Christ…' Connor thought with a deep, pained frown hidden in his pillow and he held his breath for a few seconds before he started to mumble –muffled- quietly,
"My God, I am sorry for having offended Thee; and I detest my sins above every other evil, because they displease Thee, my God. Who for Thine infinite goodness art so deser-…"
"Connor…" Murphy's voice interrupted his hurried and questionably sincere contrite prayer.
Connor's heart was beating sorely in his chest cavity as he forced himself to breathe and raise his face from his pillow, not looking at Murphy but instead at the off yellow colored wall, chin rested on the pillow,
"Hm?" he managed.
"Were you prayin'?"
Connor realized then that the shower was shut off, so Murphy would have been able to hear him mumbling into his pillow, but at least he didn't seem to have heard what prayer it was. That would have raised questions Connor never wanted to answer.
"Aye, an' yeh' interrupted me." He said steadily, trying to restore normalcy and be his usual self.
Murphy snorted, followed by the sound of his bare feet patting on the concrete and Connor's pulse quickened knowing Murphy was probably near to the beds, nearer to Connor and likely wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, if that,
"Yeh' can finish at mass, get up, we have te' go soon."
Connor shifted onto his elbows and rubbed his face and unruly hair roughly, still not looking at Murphy as he listened to the patting of his sibling walking again, probably to the old clothes hamper in which they kept their mix of clean clothes, mind you, they probably needed to do laundry soon.
There was some quiet shuffling from his twin before Connor decided,
"I'm not goin' te' mass, Murphy…"
A beat of silence, then,
"What?"
The only times they'd ever missed mass had been when one of them had been sick, otherwise it was a ritual, a necessity in their lives since boyhood, since when they'd started to go to church for themselves and not just because their Ma took or told them to.
Connor chose not to answer, so Murphy chose to press the subject,
"Evenin' mass then?" he asked.
'Fuck…' Connor sighed heavily and pushed himself up onto his side and then swung his legs over to the side of the mattress, facing his back to Murphy,
"I'm not goin' te' mass today." He informed his twin.
Connor knew, despite what prayer was meant to achieve, that he'd only feel worse if he went and prayed for strength and guidance and then avoided any kind of confession completely when he had such a dirty sin to confess to…and he didn't want to feel worse.
There was silence from Murphy verbally after that, the following noises Connor waited for and to be over were the sounds of a fastening zipper and the clink of a belt buckle and then only he stood up, glancing at Murphy to confirm that he was at least half decent, before he walked around his bed and headed to the shower area where he started up the water.
Connor listened as Murphy moved the dirty dishes – most of them a few days old- out of the single kitchen sink they had access to, which doubled as a wash basin for them, and he knew his twin was going to brush his teeth.
He doubted their mother would be proud of the place they'd chosen to live in, she'd never been the type to scrub floors and dust often but she certainly wouldn't approve of how they lived, because it was a dump. Still, for the pair of them, the loft was home enough…and it was economically viable.
Connor dropped his boxer shorts and kicked them aside, he'd clear them away later- maybe tomorrow-, before he stepped under the moderately warm spray of water, wetting his hair first and rubbing his hands back and forth through it, feeling its thickness and greasiness from the previous day's work and sweat, as the water gradually wet the rest of his skin.
He could faintly hear Murphy brushing his teeth over the sound of the shower and he quickly soaped himself up, hoping to, but he doubted he would, finish before Murphy was done brushing…after which his twin would run a comb through his dark, smooth wet hair. Connor shook his head abruptly, clenching his jaw and forcing himself not to punch the wall when the thought of running his hands through Murphy's soft, dark hair crossed his mind.
And yet again, it wasn't as if he'd never touched Murphy's hair. Fair enough, the last time he'd petted his brother's head his twin had been sick with the flu and fever almost two years prior and it'd been while Murphy was throwing up, but still, he'd done it…and probably could again if the situation allowed for it.
But it wasn't as if he could just go ahead and pet Murphy's hair randomly and not raise any questions from his brother, surely an action like that would be weird and make his twin feel uncomfortable?
Murphy was done spitting and rinsing and Connor heard the tap shut off, he glanced over his shoulder at Murphy just as Murphy glanced at him. His twin was wearing nothing but his usual blue jeans and dark socks, and Connor discreetly listened as Murphy went and sat down on his bed to put his boots on. Connor didn't look at him again as he finished showering and then grabbed his towel from where it hung over the old shower curtain railing, he wrapped it around his waist and went to the clean hamper to look for boxers.
By the time Connor was dressed in his jeans and a gray long sleeve shirt, heading to brush his teeth, Murphy had pulled his pea coat on and was headed for the door. Connor wanted to ask where he was going, since Connor himself wasn't ready to leave, but then he remembered his twin would attend morning mass before work and so he would have to leave earlier, without Connor.
The idea of not travelling to work with Murphy was foreign but Connor let it go, if he was making Murphy feel like he was being pushed away, it probably wasn't right to try and force him to hang around if he needed to do something on his own.
Connor finished getting ready a short while later, doing a final run of his hands through his thick, damp hair so it settled into a mess that would dry that way and then he pulled his coat on, grabbed his loft key, smokes, lighter, wallet and finally on his way out, his rosary and he opened the door, stepping out into the cool top floor area.
He paused with the door near closed when he realized Murphy, who'd stepped out fifteen minutes ago, was crouching down against the wall near the stairs and smoking, elbows on his knees, head rested in one hand and the other stretched out and holding his slowly burning cigarette.
Connor frowned, shutting and locking the door once he had put his rosary on and then he pocketed his keys as Murphy slowly stood up, said twin taking a long final drag from his cigarette before dropping it on the floor and crushing it under his boot.
"I thought yeh'd be gone te' mass." Connor commented as he approached his twin, tucking his rosary under his shirt.
"Yeh' thought or you hoped, Connor?" Murphy gave him a truly displeased look before he started off down the stairs.
Connor sighed and quickly headed after him,
"I just thought yeh' would go, yeh' don't have te' miss et' just cause' I am."
"Fuck you, Connor." Murphy said with obvious frustration in his tone and at five staircases down to the ground floor, he barged out of the building with a harsh shove to the door and Connor had to stop it from bouncing and swinging back on him.
Connor quickened his steps to catch up and walk beside Murphy because despite his twin's anger, he'd waited outside the loft all that time and that told Connor that his brother would not be going to mass without him. He felt bad for keeping Murphy from going, especially to the morning mass which his twin enjoyed most. But Connor just couldn't face mass that day, especially since he'd be so near to Murphy when they prayed and already he could smell their shared deodorant on Murphy's skin as the wind wafted it in his direction and it smelled so fucking good for some terrible reason.
He didn't even care how it smelled on his own skin, not when it complimented Murphy so well. Inexpensive as it was, it was good on his brother…and shit, Connor couldn't keep allowing himself to think those things.
And fearing those thoughts would occur in church was just another reason not to go.
They made their way to work in silence and the buzzing in Connor's ears all the way there was Murphy's frustration at full volume, not just his own.
A few weeks went by with the twins being less than themselves toward and around one another.
Long, painful weeks of Connor doing all he could to keep his mind in appropriate places and avoiding looking at his twin excessively and Murphy seemed to notice but he didn't comment, almost as if he were just prepared to wait it out, so patiently.
In the meantime, Connor visited the bar more than he did the church and he felt horrible because Murphy did not go to mass without him even once, even though he barely spoke to Connor, he never left his side. They went to work together, to the bar together and home together and when Connor could force himself, they went to mass together.
Murphy had even taken to leaving a mass abruptly with him whenever Connor felt like his skin was crawling just being on his knees or when he was having trouble walking up to the alter to kiss the feet of Jesus' statue.
His brother never left his side and never would and Connor was so grateful and felt so unworthy of it.
Presently, it was the exact day after mid-March, the sixteenth, and by that time the weather was finally lukewarm in Boston. Aside from the weather being somewhere between good and warm and possibly raining, Murphy's mood was looking up and by default for that reason, so was Connor's.
It was the night before St. Paddy's day, one of Murphy's favorite days of the year aside from Easter and Christmas, somewhat typically of an Irish Catholic Connor supposed, since they were his favorite holidays too. But there was a significance to the day before St. Paddy's that nobody of their new friends in America knew about and it was kind of their personal favorite day, since it was their birthday.
27* years old.
Connor had told Murphy fifteen minutes earlier that he was just going to run to the convenience store around the corner from their block for smokes and beer, but he was currently stepping out of the liquor store a few blocks down with a special purchase. Even though Murphy hadn't really been laughing or joking with him, he'd at least spared a smile for Connor that Tuesday morning when they'd woken up and looked at each other, wordlessly wishing one another a happy birthday before they'd gotten ready for work.
Connor hadn't been able to skip mass that morning, just as he wouldn't on St. Paddy's, Christmas or Easter. It was not only something he had to do by their faith, but on their birthday it was a tradition for them. So they'd gone together and Connor had endured, wishing he could feel relief from church the way he had just a few months back before dirty sin wrapped itself around his thoughts. All the same, he knew Murphy needed it and he'd patiently spent time with Murphy, a bit more than usual, as his twin prayed and afterward lit two votive candles before he went into confession.
Connor had sat in the pew near the alter of candles at the side of the church, while he waited for his twin, staring at the two candles Murphy had lit and while he knew one of them symbolized a prayer for himself, he wondered what the prayer was of.
He sighed presently as he carried the somewhat pricey –for their meager budget- bottle of whiskey he'd purchased for himself and Murphy to toast each other on their birthday. He yearned for things to go back to normal, he prayed quietly at night for the feelings and thoughts he'd been developing for Murphy to just disappear and leave him in peace, so he could be happy with his sibling again, so that Murphy could be happy and his smiles would not be so rare.
The walk back was brisk and Connor's coat felt too warm as he ascended the stairs, belatedly realizing that the elevator hadn't been on the bottom floor, which meant it was working again. Connor didn't double back though, climbing the stairs two at a time instead, itching for the taste of some quality Irish whiskey.
He walked straight into their loft and glanced around, eyes falling on Murphy where he sat at the small cluttered table, opening up their Chinese takeout which had obviously been delivered while he'd been out. Connor smirked as he shut the door with his foot,
"Smell's good." He quipped before walking over to the table.
"Aye…but somethin' homier would have been nicer." Murphy said with a small smile around the cigarette between his lips.
Connor found himself agreeing and he hummed as he placed the brown paper bagged bottle on the table and started to shrug off his coat,
"Oh aye, like mutton stew…" he grinned, enjoying the lighter atmosphere between them since Murphy was in a good mood,
"Arán bocht tí…" (Potato Pancake) Murphy said in Irish with his smile widening as he took his cigarette from his lips and placed it in the ashtray between the various takeout boxes.
Connor couldn't help a snort as he dropped his coat over the back of his chair and then sat down opposite Murphy,
"Jesus, Murph, how fuckin' home sick are yeh?"
"Hm, it'd be so good though…" Murphy ignored the question, expression thoughtful before he raised his eyebrows and he reached for the brown bag, "…what's this, then?"
Connor lost his smile for a second, wondering if his twin's craving for their homeland was because of the way things had been between them. But he didn't dwell on those thoughts, he'd been doing his best not to lately, so he dropped the train of thought as Murphy had and watched his twin pull the whiskey bottle out of the bag and when he grinned Connor did too,
"Ohhhhh, shit," Murphy said loudly and he glanced at Connor, "how the fuck did yeh' afford this, Connor?" he asked as he unscrewed the cap with a snap, sniffed from the bottle, then took a swig and as he swallowed he hummed at the burn Connor knew and loved just as much.
And Connor found that the sound of Murphy humming that way was a sound he could grow inappropriately fond of, so he tried not to memorize it and cleared his throat,
"I was savin' up fer' et', thought we'd celebrate our birthday proper this year." He explained as he sat forward and reached for the bottle of Bushmills Black Bush, "Give et' here, don't hog et' now…" he took it when Murphy handed it to him after he'd taken another drink.
"S'fuckin' good." Murphy commented, rubbing the heel of his palm across his smiling mouth with a look of expectation on his face just after Connor swallowed his first mouthful. Connor gave the bottle an appreciative glance and then nodded,
"Aye, s'fuckin' excellent." And Murphy was nodding, grinning and reaching for a plastic fork.
Connor opted for the chopsticks, he liked the challenge and wanted to master it, whereas Murphy liked to be able to eat without obstruction. It was one of the subtle differences about them, their lack of physical similarity being a larger difference, not including their height and weight and blue eyes of course.
The evening passed by quickly, it was after ten PM soon and they'd finished the bottle of whiskey, two packets of cigarettes, all the takeout and eight games of Black Jack. They were sipping from their respective cans of Guinness when Connor conceded with a short curse to another game and Murphy snickered at him,
"Yer' so fuckin' bad at this." He informed Connor as he slid the cards on the table toward himself.
"Fuck off, Murph, gamblin' goes against God, I'm not s'pose te' be good at et'." Connor made a lame excuse with a lazy but cocky smirk.
"Oh fuck you!" Murphy said smugly and lazily pointed a finger at Connor across the table with the hand in which he held the card stack, "Yer' so full of shit, Conn." he was smiling as he picked up his halfway burned out cigarette from the ashtray, "We're not even gamblin', yer' just losin' like a bitch while I school yeh'." He teased.
Connor rolled his eyes and threw a stray bottle cap at Murphy, who giggled in that high pitched way he sometimes did when he was tipsy verging on drunk,
"Shut et'." He grumbled halfheartedly at his snickering twin.
Card games were never his forte, but pool on the other hand, he was damn good at that.
They lapsed into a short silence then, they'd finished the entire bottle of whiskey neat and had been through more than half a dozen beers by that time and Connor was lighting up a new cigarette to wind down, his elbows on the table and thumb clicking the lighter while Murphy fiddled with the cards. He dropped his lighter on the table once the smoke was lit and rubbed his forehead after inhaling from the cigarette,
"D'yeh' feel like McGinty's?" Connor asked evenly, putting the idea out there, but honestly, he didn't feel like going, they'd be there the following night to celebrate St. Paddy's with their friends, but he felt their birthday should always just be about them.
Murphy looked at him, fingers rubbing over his chin and bottom lip, which he subtly licked before raising his eyebrows slightly, expression unchanging,
"If yeh' want."
Connor silently thanked God for his brother, who seemed willing to do whatever he wanted.
After a moment of swirling smoke and just their breathing Connor shook his head in the negative, because he didn't want to go, even if it was often easier to be in a crowd with Murphy than completely alone with him these days. Murphy nodded at him in agreement and then they smoked and finished their final beers in silence.
After that was decided Connor thought bed seemed like a good idea, he felt so fucking tired. They had work the next day anyway and sitting in silence with Murphy was starting to stress him out, especially after a nice relief period, because he wondered what his twin was thinking about, more so since he was glancing at Connor every so often.
Connor moved somewhat unsteadily to his mattresses and decided that taking his shirt off was as much effort as he could muster, so he sat down at the foot of his bed in just his jeans and boots and lay back with a sigh.
He still had his rosary on and he knew Murphy had noticed he wore it more often than before.
"You okay?" Murphy asked quietly and Connor opened his eyes, he hadn't realized he'd closed them, and watched as Murphy stood up, smoke trailing from his nose and mouth as he stubbed his final cigarette out.
"Aye, just fuckin' tired." Connor answered in a light tone and closed his eyes again, trying not to sound depressed, despite starting to feel it.
There was a sigh from Murphy and then Connor was shocked to feel a tug at his boot laces. His eyes popped open and he raised his head to look at Murphy where he was crouching at Connor's bent up legs and feet planted flat on the floor,
"What are yeh' doin', Murph?" he hoped he didn't sound as confused and awkward as he suddenly felt.
"Takin' care of my younger brother…" he said with a lopsided smirk as he yanked the first boot off Connor's navy blue socked foot.
Connor laughed quietly and shook his head,
"You fuckin' know I came out first, Murph, best yeh' be comin' te' terms with et'." He smiled as his second boot was unlaced and pulled off and his stomach felt awfully light.
"You fuckin' wish, until Ma tells us yeh' came out first, I won't believe et'." Murphy said with a hard smack to Connor's calf which felt so comfortable and close and familiar that it warmed Connor's chest. Finally a normal feeling, Connor enjoyed it, savored it, "Open yer' pants." Murphy added absently just as Connor was trying to memorize the warm chest feeling, but unfortunately it all gravitated south at those completely innocent words.
Connor just laid there, head and body flat, and he tried to breathe and block out the feelings and images threatening to spill into his sanity, but Murphy took his lack of reaction as a sign that he wasn't going to do it himself,
"Fuckin' Connor, yer' not even drunk…" Murphy huffed lightly and after a soundless shift Connor felt a tug on his belt buckle.
This was not a first either, since their first - worst - drinking days when their tolerance had been low and their limits not yet realized, the lessor drunk brother would undress whichever one of them was too drunk to do it themselves, if it could be managed.
But this felt different now to Connor, the feeling of his belt sliding from the loops of his jeans after it was unbuckled with a tug, the careless pressure of Murphy's fingers as he popped the button and drew down the zipper, and when Murphy took hold of the waist of Connor's jeans…the feeling of his warm knuckles against Connor's lower stomach…
'Christ…help me…' Connor felt his body react and his arousal swell.
He had to stop Murphy before his reaction to the innocent gesture of help became too much to conceal physically.
Connor felt Murphy's fingers skim his waist, fingertips slightly rough and warm to the touch, as he adjusted his hold on Connor's jeans and then tugged down,
"Lift yer' waist yeh' lazy bastard." Murphy mumbled and Connor didn't do it.
He couldn't do it, not when his body was threatening the start of a semi.
Fuck, he wanted to scream, he felt so filthy…yet so fucking turned on.
Connor pulled himself up smoothly –quickly-, abdominals tensing as he did so, until he was sitting up and was able to conceal what was happening in the confines of his jeans and shorts by leaning forward, arms rested on his knees, Murphy leaning back on his heels to give Connor some room.
Connor figured he should probably say something since he found himself staring closely, about a foot away, at Murphy's somewhat tired but relaxed expression, he looked content and loving and all the things Connor was eternally grateful for.
Connor wondered back to a question he'd asked himself a few weeks earlier, about whether it'd be okay to pet Murphy's dark, smooth looking hair without any real reason. Murphy wasn't sick and Connor wasn't drunk, would it be weird? He supposed the worst that could happen if he tried, would be Murphy pushing his hand away and telling him to fuck off, which would be alright, just to test.
Connor knew he shouldn't, not with lingering heat in his loins and the sight of a tired, slightly tipsy Murphy so close. With his lips slightly moist from his habit of licking them, eyes focused and crystalline, skin fair and lightly sticky from sweat, with the way his black T-shirt fit him just right across his broad shoulders…and the way the line of beads on his dark rosary -visible just above the neckline- contrasted against his skin.
Because Connor wearing his rosary meant Murphy would wear his.
Connor reached out and placed his right hand on the side of Murphy's head, the soft, dark hair there was pleasant and cool against Connor's palm,
"I thank God fer' yeh', Murph…everyday…" he confessed quietly, a sad smile twitching onto his face as he was taking in the sight of his twin's face with every ounce of his love, both platonic and non, shining in his eyes.
Murphy looked at him seriously as Connor threaded his fingers into Murphy's hair gently and petted…no, caressed, his thumb gliding over Murphy's ear as Connor kept his breathing as even as possible.
He didn't know if he expected Murphy to say anything but when he didn't, Connor wasn't so surprised, Murphy probably didn't know how to respond, since Connor wasn't drunk but his words were mushy.
And his hand had slipped up and then down the back of Murphy's head, stroking the silky, cool strands of short hair as it slid beneath Connor's palm and between his fingers, until he was actually massaging the back of Murphy's head while just staring at him. It felt too intimate for Connor…and he knew he shouldn't be doing it.
And he made no excuses while Murphy was just watching him carefully, but he wasn't pushing Connor away.
"Is breá liom tú, deartháir." (I love you, brother) Connor said with complete honesty, his eyes looking straight into his twin's when he said it.
Murphy blinked slowly and then he moved forward, bowing his head and his arms encircled Connor's torso as he pressed his face into Connor's bare shoulder.
Connor might as well have been on fire for how his skin burned with sin and heat everywhere Murphy's bare skin directly touched his in the awkward embrace. Awkward because the MacManus brother's didn't hug, so it was strange.
Connor didn't push his twin away though, not even for the sinful burn to his skin or for the strangeness, how could he? Especially not in that situation, at that time when he'd finally allowed Murphy close after weeks of pushing him away. No. So he kept his hand buried in Murphy's silky, short hair, pressed his cheek and lips to the side of his twin's head and wrapped his other arm around Murphy's shoulders as he held him.
"I love yeh' too, Connor." Murphy mumbled against his shoulder.
Connor pursed his lips, careful to keep Murphy at a safe distance from his body since his brother was kneeling part way between his jean clad legs. Because Connor's body was burning with sin and his cock was getting harder by the second…every second he inhaled the smell of smoke in Murphy's hair, the scent of his day-worn skin and could feel their clammy skin contacting.
Connor was definitely going to burn in hell.
When Murphy drew back Connor forced himself to do so as well, he felt loss and relief when there was space between them again and cool air between their bodies. Murphy remained kneeling there as he raised his hands and Connor barely suppressed a shiver when Murphy's fingers and knuckles grazed his neck and shoulders as said twin lifted Connor's rosary off and over his head.
Murphy held the rosary in a secure fist and then smiled small and genuinely,
"We should get some sleep, Connor, et's Saint Paddy's day tomorrow."
Connor nodded once and carded a hand through his hair, lowering his gaze,
"Yea'." He agreed since they'd have lots of drinking to do and would need their rest.
"Can yeh' get yer' fuckin' jeans off then?" Murphy asked playfully as he stood up and pushed Connor's head lightly.
Connor retaliated with a punch to Murphy's thigh, just grazing the denim as his twin jumped away quickly,
"I can undress me'self, so shut et' and get me a smoke why don't yeh'?" Connor requested with a tired smile.
Murphy then kicked up Connor's T-shirt so it hit said twin in the face lightly before Murphy walked to the table to do as asked, snickering all the while.
Connor was too tired to do more than bundle up the shirt and throw it back at Murphy as he smiled to himself, ignoring what was still firm in his jeans and deciding to remain in that sitting position until it went away, a cigarette would take enough time for it to pass.
Murphy brought himself over with a single cigarette being lit by him and he puffed from it a few times before he handed it to Connor, who had reached a point where he looked forward to moisture from Murphy's lips on the filter.
So fucking twisted, he was rightfully ashamed of himself, not that it made a difference.
Connor smoked slowly, quietly, as Murphy hung up their rosaries at the side of the door, locked up and then undressed and only when his twin was laying down with his eyes closed and had his blanket slightly pulled over most of his partial nudity, did Connor uncurl from his hunched position and take his jeans off.
He doubted he'd get much more sleep than usual, but as time passed he was finding it easier to sleep off the twisted feelings he was having and while it was a bad thing, it was also good, because if he slept, then Murphy slept.
Connor switched off the light above his bed once he was lying down and he inhaled deeply and quietly.
Murphy did so as well right after him and Connor felt some relief in his own chest, because Murphy sounded and felt at ease.
...Lord, can you hear me now?
Or am I lost?