He's three years old when he first realises that him and Murph are different. Where other people need words to understand, Murph and him don't, a touch with sticky hands or a look through dirty mud caked hair is all they need. Their hands are usually entwined, leading each other through the dirty streets of home and Connor can't remember ever not being able to understand Murph with a single glance.

He's seven the first time he gets beaten at school for not being able to conjugate a verb in Latin correctly. They manage to sneak inside their grease streaked window before ma hears then and Murph is there, hands pressing him flat on the bed and half covering his body with his own, fingers tangled in his hair to quieten the cries from the pain in his backside.

He's eleven when they first threaten to separate them for the night. Murph falls from a tree with a sickening crunch from his arm as he lands and a cry that still wakes Connor up in the middle of the night, sweat cold on his face. Connor stamps his foot and refuses to be parted and curls around his brothers back on the hospital bed and snarls at anyone who asks him to move.

He's fifteen the first time he realises that kissing girls feels different, not worse, just different. Feels different from the kisses that Murph presses to his skin when he grazes a knees, she feels different in his arms than Murph does, softer with curves, rather than whipcord thin with the promise of muscles under scarred skin. He doesn't understand till he sees Murph later and watches Murph lick butter off his lower lip.

He's eighteen and done with school when he first touches Murph with something other than brotherly affection. It's by accident but it happens and he can't take it back when his fingers slip into Murph's waistband during a childish tousle. They both freeze, Murph's breath hot on Connor's cheek. Connor pretends to ignore the slight shift in Murph's hips and throws his to the floor with a forced triumphant crow. And the moment is broken.

It isn't until he's twenty-five, that he kisses Murph. Its after a fight and Murph has a bruise blossoming already under his eye, grazes on his knuckles and Connor saw him go down with a punch that would have knocked out an elephant. The door shuts and the rosary's are hanging side by side and Connor pushes Murph against the wall and kisses him. He taste like whiskey, cigarettes, blood and home.