(no subject)
Title- 3 Year’s Suffocation.
Author- ForeverYours311
Rating- Pg-13
Fandom/Pairing- Boondock Saints, Connor/Murphy.
Summary- He couldn’t take it anymore, once Rocco died; he just couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle the mafiosos and the bullets the flew and the bodies that fell. After a while even his kisses lost their feeling.
Note, this is the first BDS fic i've ever wrote, so i really dont know how good it is but here it is.
You sit down in the small confined space shifting your weight as your fingers rub over your rosary. You remember when you and Murphy used to play around in the confessionals back home in Ireland, giggling as you shared secrets through the screens. You couldn’t help but think about it. Days past were it was all that would fill your mind, just you and him. You sat on the hard bench as your mind wandered back to the days of drinking and 50 caliber automatics, the days of brothers and saints. Your lips crack a smile but it quickly fades and melts into that expressionless face you’ve perfected for your weaker moments. Those days are gone and so is the feeling of his lips on yours.
He couldn’t take it anymore, once Rocco died; he just couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle the mafiosos and the bullets that flew and the bodies that fell. After a while even his kisses lost their feeling.
So he left; and for 3 years so far it remained that way. You didn’t know where he went or when he’d be back, just that if you were meant for each other; if you loved him, you’d find him no matter where he was.
You sighed loudly as you finally let the words start to pour from your lips. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been 3 years since my last confession.” You pick at your nails as you speak, your uneasiness slowly fading away with the words.
“And it’s been just as long since I have last seen ma’ brother.” You are pretty much sure the man on the other side of the screen will condemn you to hell but you speak anyway.
”Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him Father, no matter what I do he’s all I can think about, all I see anywhere I go the faces in the crowd look like him, I think ‘m losing it.” Your fingers are back on the rosary around you neck, and you catch your self wondering if he still wears his, but your head shakes the thought of it out of your head, you’re getting sidetracked with memories; memories of him sleeping beside you, and of how soft his skin felt against your finger tips. “I miss his touch, and I miss his kiss, and I find myself longing for just one more chance to see him smile. I would do anything at all I have him back Father.”
You sigh because you know the other man is probably thinking you mad by now and he has a right; you guess, what you’re confessing goes against everything the church stands for, but the words are flowing and you can’t stop them. “Aye, it’s wrong and sickenin’ but I guess what I came here to confess.”
You bite at your lip and for a moment thinking about running right then and there but you let your fingertip slide over the tattoo that adorns your hand tracing the letters “Veritas” truth. You know you have to tell “I love my brother. I love my brother more then anything in the world.”
You look down but you can’t help the way your ears perk up when you hear a sigh from the other side of the screen. It’s a purely Irish sigh that you know you’ve heard before many times, but you dare not let your ears place it.
”My son” the voice begins but fades pausing almost as soon as the words leave the other mans lips. You’re heart is racing and your mind is spinning, but you still refuse to let your mind place the accent that you’ve heard millions of times as it used to lull you to sleep even in the darkest hours and your breath catches in your throat as the man sighs once more, and by the time the voice returns you think you might be close to suffocating, suffocating like you have been for 3 years.
“He loves you too.”
And then you can breathe once again.
Author- ForeverYours311
Rating- Pg-13
Fandom/Pairing- Boondock Saints, Connor/Murphy.
Summary- He couldn’t take it anymore, once Rocco died; he just couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle the mafiosos and the bullets the flew and the bodies that fell. After a while even his kisses lost their feeling.
Note, this is the first BDS fic i've ever wrote, so i really dont know how good it is but here it is.
You sit down in the small confined space shifting your weight as your fingers rub over your rosary. You remember when you and Murphy used to play around in the confessionals back home in Ireland, giggling as you shared secrets through the screens. You couldn’t help but think about it. Days past were it was all that would fill your mind, just you and him. You sat on the hard bench as your mind wandered back to the days of drinking and 50 caliber automatics, the days of brothers and saints. Your lips crack a smile but it quickly fades and melts into that expressionless face you’ve perfected for your weaker moments. Those days are gone and so is the feeling of his lips on yours.
He couldn’t take it anymore, once Rocco died; he just couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle the mafiosos and the bullets that flew and the bodies that fell. After a while even his kisses lost their feeling.
So he left; and for 3 years so far it remained that way. You didn’t know where he went or when he’d be back, just that if you were meant for each other; if you loved him, you’d find him no matter where he was.
You sighed loudly as you finally let the words start to pour from your lips. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been 3 years since my last confession.” You pick at your nails as you speak, your uneasiness slowly fading away with the words.
“And it’s been just as long since I have last seen ma’ brother.” You are pretty much sure the man on the other side of the screen will condemn you to hell but you speak anyway.
”Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him Father, no matter what I do he’s all I can think about, all I see anywhere I go the faces in the crowd look like him, I think ‘m losing it.” Your fingers are back on the rosary around you neck, and you catch your self wondering if he still wears his, but your head shakes the thought of it out of your head, you’re getting sidetracked with memories; memories of him sleeping beside you, and of how soft his skin felt against your finger tips. “I miss his touch, and I miss his kiss, and I find myself longing for just one more chance to see him smile. I would do anything at all I have him back Father.”
You sigh because you know the other man is probably thinking you mad by now and he has a right; you guess, what you’re confessing goes against everything the church stands for, but the words are flowing and you can’t stop them. “Aye, it’s wrong and sickenin’ but I guess what I came here to confess.”
You bite at your lip and for a moment thinking about running right then and there but you let your fingertip slide over the tattoo that adorns your hand tracing the letters “Veritas” truth. You know you have to tell “I love my brother. I love my brother more then anything in the world.”
You look down but you can’t help the way your ears perk up when you hear a sigh from the other side of the screen. It’s a purely Irish sigh that you know you’ve heard before many times, but you dare not let your ears place it.
”My son” the voice begins but fades pausing almost as soon as the words leave the other mans lips. You’re heart is racing and your mind is spinning, but you still refuse to let your mind place the accent that you’ve heard millions of times as it used to lull you to sleep even in the darkest hours and your breath catches in your throat as the man sighs once more, and by the time the voice returns you think you might be close to suffocating, suffocating like you have been for 3 years.
“He loves you too.”
And then you can breathe once again.