Page 75 of Run, Little Rabbit

“You’re not even going to deny it?” Cillian asks, an eyebrow raised. I'm half impressed that I managed to elicit a genuine response from him.

“Is there any point in denying it?”

“No,” he replies flatly.

“Why six minutes?” Conor asks as he shrugs out of his jacket and rolls his sleeves up.

“Because it shouldn’t take longer to kill someone than that. If you’re torturing someone, that’s different, but even from strangulation, death should occur within a six-minute window.”

Cillian drinks his tequila and then removes his jacket too. It’s a weird thing they share. They can’t seem to stand looking any different. Even as adults, they dress exactly the same, and I think that’s what sets people on edge around them. What was cute when they were five isn’t cute now that they’re twenty-eight.

“When did you figure it out?” I ask them.

Conor rocks his head from side to side, mulling over the answer. “About a year ago.”

“That long ago?” Colour me impressed. More from the fact that they kept the secret for so long, rather than they actually figured it out. “What gave me away?”

“It was subtle, really. Your behaviour got less and less erratic, so you were clearly getting an outlet somewhere,” Cillian mused.

“At first, we thought it was your little fuck boy, Kai, but when he started to get mopey, we knew you’d cut things off with him. Poor boy, how could you break his precious little heart?” Conor pouts and pretends to cry.

“You can have him, you know,” I say with a grin.

Conor flinches, just a little. Almost too fast to see, but I know I’ve struck a nerve. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Even Cillian smirks at that comment.

“Of course not,” I drawl. “You don’t pine for him at all.”

“You can leave my brother’s unresolved issues over his sexuality off the table. We’re here to talk about you,” Cillian says, jumping immediately to his twin’s defence.

“Fine, but we’re definitely circling back to Conor and Kai.”

Cillian smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It never does. “Deal.”

There’s a gasp of indignation from Conor, but both Cillian and I choose to ignore it.

“So, you’ve racked up quite the body count,” Cillian says, a spark of something unsettling glimmering in his green eyes.

Have I just become fascinating?

How novel.

“I think it might be more than you two put together.”

Conor snorts. “We doubt that.”

“Youdoknow it’s creepy as fuck when you two refer to yourself as ‘us’ and ‘we’,” I say, leaning across the island towards them and dropping my voice to a stage whisper.

Conor just shrugs as if he doesn’t care. They’ve always done it, always referred to themselves as a pair and never as an individual. They’re definitely co-dependent, and I am curious to see what would happen to their dynamic if one of them ever started dating. I mean, they’re both possessive over their things, so I don’t think they’d share life partners. I know they’ve shared bed partners, but that has always been as a one-off and never longer than a week or two.

The whole ‘unresolved sexual identity issues’ is rather intriguing, though. I just assumed they were bi, but now I’m not so sure what they are. But it’s not my business, and I’m sure if they were going to tell me, they would. It won’t stop me from paying a bit more attention to who they spend their time with though, just to see if I can figure it out.

“So, you managed to get Bennie’s phone,” Cillian states, his head cocked to one side. It’s a statement, not a question.

“Well, I did kill the guy. Of course I stole his phone.”

Conor runs his fingers through his perfectly set strawberry-blonde hair, mussing up the locks just a little. Cillian frowns at his twin for spoiling his perfect image. God, those two are weird.

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