His Saint || Murphy Macmanus

ɪɪ. ʙᴇ ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛ

Before we start, I want to make a correction. Connor and Murphy are from Ireland. They're not from America. I made the mistake while doing my character update stating that they are Irish American. I wanted to make this note before going any further. My apologies!

~♡~

There is a phrase by Nathaniel Hawthorne about those who deny others the truth and dignity of honesty. The saying goes;

"Accuracy is the twin brother of honesty; inaccuracy, of dishonesty."

Murphy Macmanus thought of these words as he paced back and forth outside Rocco's apartment. His white teeth pinch at the edge of his thumbnail as the cigarette between his fingers hiss with a gentle hue of orange. How much longer was he going to wait to tell Ariana the truth? This night needed to be the night but as the hour grew closer, the anxiety became disheartening.

Connor Macmanus watched his brother from the stoop leading into the apartment building. His light blue eyes track Murphy's every move, growing tired of his uncertainty.

"For fuck sakes, man. Stop bouncin' around like a damn energized bunny." Connor finally says, pulling at the cuff of his long coat.

Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away and Boston's famous chills began to wreak havoc. Not enough to disallow Murphy to walk back and forth without the proper clothing for chilly weather.

"She's gonna hate me, " Murphy finally says, coming to a stop. Rubbing the ball of his palm against his tired lids. "What exactly am I suppose ter say? 'Surprise me and Con are goin' back ter Ireland and we might not be comin' back'?" Murphy moves his hands in front of him, motioning them as if he is surprising someone on their birthday.

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, glaring down at his naive twin;

"Hol' on. Ye didn't tell Ari we are leavin' tomorrow mornin'?" Connor stomped down the steps.

Like a child caught taking a cookie from out of the cookie jar, Murphy scratched the side of his head. His stare stuck on the dawn sky. Connor bit the inside of his cheek, moving close to his brother with a disgusted expression. With a scowl, Connor moves his left arm, smacking the back of Murphy's head with his hand flat. Surprised and quite annoyed, Murphy grasps at the spot Connor slapped.

"What were ye thinkin' ye dumb sack of shit?!" Connor shouts.

Just as the Macmanus brothers would do as children, they began to wrestle the other. Murphy wrapped his arm around Connor's neck, placing him into a chokehold. And as Connor whacked Murphy's arm and torso, the two share unkind words. Cursing the other underneath their tongue. The two have at it for a minute, only to stop once they notice David Rocco standing beside them. Sweaty, anxious, and his face a bright red underneath his greasy long hair.

The two now frozen like a deer caught in headlights, study their best friend with raised brows. Connor managed to place Murphy into a chokehold during their wild slapping and tussle. Murphy grip the arm around his neck, opening his mouth ever so slightly;

"What's up, Rocco? Somethin' on yer mind?"

Rocco breathed in harshly, his nostrils flare and his hand pushed back his hair from out of his rigid face. The truth of the matter was; Rocco felt uncomfortable in his own place. Irene and Ariana were decorating his apartment for the party, speaking of things Rocco would usually be drawn into. Who wouldn't enjoy being amongst the nice company of two beautiful women with great bodies? Making his usually messy apartment lively and tolerable.