Boys of privilege. Trained since birth to become men of privilege.

A few freckles across the nose.

Eyes that go wide and dark when you press on that one spot.

They both have spent too much time crying. Often for the same reasons you have.

They both know that when things get phenomenally fucked up, the only thing you can do is laugh.

They are both capable of very bad things.

They both want to be better because of you.

Veronica looks at her two boys, sprawled out and sleeping on the bed. Normally, she wonders how this works, how two such different guys could even be friends, much less both be in a relationship with her. Duncan is so worried, so proper, so gentle, so innocent still, even after everything. Logan is so cynical, so reckless, so angry, so jaded.

And yet, Veronica can't help thinking they're so much alike.

Like there's only one of them, like they've been split down the middle, two opposing forces that aren't complete without the other. Like they're twins. And they belong together, and they don't ever have to be jealous of each other because they were once so closely bound to each other, the line between them has gone all fuzzy and liquid.

Veronica smiles. She likes that. Her boys are twins.

She won't tell them her theory, though.

Duncan would just make a vaguely disgusted face at the thought of a twin-threesome.

Logan would just call dibs on being the evil twin.