Everything felt slow here. Time was drowning him while at the same time it was rushing by. Those three clearly said words spilled out on this very rooftop were just a whisper in his head. Something that was suppose to mark the beginning of the end, so to speak. Which was something he wasn’t even sure he could go through with anymore…but he had to. He has to watch, he has to feel Gareth’s life slipping from that body he’s worshipped over and over again. What makes the tendrils of pain wrap around him even tighter, choking him unlike the wind that splayed wisps of hair across his forehead, is the fact that if he never hears the full story of Murphy’s death- the sheer anger and betrayal that resides in him will have him killing his soulmate out of revenge.
All those thoughts were constantly swimming in the Irishman’s mind- along with many other’s. It was how his brain worked, a system that Gareth seemed to just fucking understand. It was as if those golden hazel eyes could look into his blue hues that no longer held his special light and just sift through the thousands of strings to find all the right ones to calm him. However, in this instance, Connor was indifferent. He was meticulous when it came to keeping track of the sun settings since the day he arrived in Terminus…Especially since the day the two of them found themselves in a bare room with cold concrete floors. Undressing one another in a delicate complicated dance and pitting off against each other. It was that day, a year ago, he remembers denying what his heart screamed at him. He fell in love with his brother’s killer.
He met his match. His equal.
Even though the two weren’t touching, the former Saint could feel that skin beneath his hands. The texture of those cheeks and that jawline was embedded into his nerves and suffocated his brain. Involuntarily his trigger finger twitched as a gust of cooling air pushed him a step closer to where Gareth had stopped short before him. He gnawed a bit at the inside of his bottom lip, keeping their vision locked and one his jaw began to roll they both knew his words were soon to follow.
It started off slow, as always. Seemed as if there was always a build up for them, at least from his point of view. But it stemmed from a place of desire that he wanted to treasure every second of this tormenting yet beautifully equipped relationship they had together. Knuckled circled the apple of the younger man’s cheek to swoop and trace along the shell of Gareth’s ear. Next, fingers carded through hair to grip the back of his love’s head and pull them closer. His plush lips breathing hot compared to the wind that relentlessly swirled through out. When their foreheads pressed together he let out a shuddered exhale- already feeling the prick of tears.
He shouldn’t want to say this.
“T’ank ye,” his voice was a near whisper but he spoke clearly. Gripping tighter and wrapped his free arm around the middle of the body standing in front of him. “…if ye didn’- if w’at happened ta Murphy didn’ keep me here. I woul’ ‘ave never known any o’ t’is. I ‘avn’t asked fer much in my life- Suppose now I know s’ because I woul’ end up gettin’ everyt’in I needed in t’e end. S’, t’ank ye, fer his death. Fer all t’e pain an’…fer us.”
