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Tonight was nowhere near the first time Connor had broken curfew.
When he had woken up, shivering and covered in a thin layer of sweat, a detail that clung to him after every Hell Dream, a reminder that it wasn’t just a dream, he had expected to get a drink of water, maybe sit on the sofa and read for a while. If he was lucky, or unlucky, he hadn’t figured that out yet, then he wouldn’t be alone for long. Maybe their subconsciouses were synced up in their torture schedules, or maybe Elder Price was always woken up by some small noise Connor made as he tiptoed around the hut, but the other missionary frequently made his way from his room and down the hall, quietly taking a seat next to the district leader. Neither of them needed to address what brought them from their beds anymore, the answer was always the same.
Connor hated that it meant that the elder hadn’t slept well. He hated that it meant the other boy had either had yet another nightmare or that he hadn’t even been able to fall asleep for fear of one. But a small, selfish part of him enjoyed the other’s company in the soft candlelight. He appreciated the conversations they shared, the kind that could only ever be held in the cover of darkness, where secrets and full truths dripped from their lips and subject matter drifted from comfort to future ambitions and past longings.
During one of these nights, Elder Price had reassured him, promising that the Hell Dreams would eventually become infrequent, and the power they held over him would weaken with the grip of the church. He had promised that he would always be a few doors away, whether he made his own way to the main room or not. His hand had felt so warm, large, and steady on his back, rubbing small circles as the district leader shuddered from a particularly harsh dream, and Connor was tempted to take that offer. But after he had calmed down, and he had finally taken a moment to look at the man who both haunted and comforted him, all he could bring himself to focus on was the exhaustion hidden behind the care and concern he had grown accustomed to seeing during these hours. And Connor had promised himself he’d never take up the offer.
During another one of these nights, Connor had rested a gentle hand on Price’s shoulder as the man shook violently, dancing around the subject of his own dreams while not actively pushing the topic away. Connor had heard enough that night to know that, while Satan didn’t make an active appearance, the dreams that plagued his friend were still visions of Hell, just a different, more heartbreaking kind. That night had gone on in near silence after the basics had been spilled, the only sound being the occasional shuddering breath. At some point, Elder Price had become Kevin in Connor’s mind, and by the time dawn started creeping its way over the horizon, Kevin had settled down, his body curled in on itself as he practically sat on Connor’s lap, held close in a loose embrace. They only parted when the sound of movement reached them from one of the bedrooms, and the moment that Kevin stood up, his posture shifted, and in an instant, he became Elder Price once more. A selfish part of Connor missed the warmth of the other man’s body, missed the glimpse of Kevin he had gotten, his first look at the real person behind the bold and confident exterior Elder Price displayed, but the part of him that would do whatever it took to protect his elders hoped he never saw him in such a raw state again, even if it meant only ever knowing Elder Price instead of Kevin.
It was almost expected that they’d end up meeting after returning from their duel trips to Hell. Logically, Connor knew that it was a routine that they couldn’t keep up with. He had noticed the steady uptick in the cups of coffee Elder Price required in the morning before managing to plaster on his Church Sanctioned smile, just as he had noticed the creeping exhaustion in his bones. But going to bed earlier after meeting each other on the ratty old sofa never seemed like a viable option, not when exhaustion was the only reason either of them felt like they could part from the other. Not when what they were returning to was the dark room they always escaped to, when the only comfort came from their sleeping companions. Not when the understanding they had built couldn’t extend beyond the confines of the main room during the twilight hours.
It hadn’t been a surprise when a door down the hall creaked open. He didn’t even need to look up from his task of lighting the candle next to the couch to know it was Elder Price. It never was anyone else. Connor took his seat, glancing over at the hall, smiling softly at the sight of a tired Elder Price, his brown hair messy from tossing and turning, and his chest covered by his, rather form-fitting, temple garments.
For a moment, Connor could almost ignore what brought them there. He could pretend that he had the privilege of seeing this side of the shockingly put-together mess of a man under different circumstances. For a split second, he could daydream that they were somewhere else, somewhere where they wouldn’t be imprisoned or killed for being a couple, that they were a couple to begin with, and that he had only woken up to get a glass of water. A cool, crisp glass of fresh, clean water, and that he had woken up a little more than he intended to and opted to sit down and read for a bit, instead of avoiding the nightmares that visited him every night. At that moment, he could pretend that Elder Price was Kevin again and that he had been woken up by the emptiness next to him instead of a phantom presence surrounding him, stifling him. Instead of coming out for comfort, daydream Kevin came out to see what was taking him so long. He’d relax the same way Elder Price always seemed to the moment he was silently beckoned closer, but it would be because he saw the man he cared about rather than the chance at distraction. He’d smile, but not that wide, fake thing with too many teeth. It would be small, sleepy, and genuine. He’d sit down, throwing his legs up onto the couch, making a sarcastic remark about being a night owl or more intrigued by books than the handsome man waiting for him in bed, and Connor would get the chance to touch Kevin casually, to show any sign of affection when one of them wasn’t breaking beneath the other’s hand.
That was where the daydream ended, a bitter taste left in Connor’s mouth in place of the memory of cool water and minty toothpaste. Elder Price had joined him on the couch, leaning back against the opposite arm, legs crossed in a way Connor hadn’t seen since elementary school, back when carpet time had been a thing. Elder Price looked relaxed, or at least as relaxed as he ever seemed to get, his right hand fidgeting with the cushion pressed into his side and his left toying with the one beneath him. He didn’t meet Connor’s eyes or attempt to start any conversation. This had happened enough for Connor to know that it meant that this was one of the better nights. That Elder Price was out here because he’d heard the district leader making his way to the main room, not because he had woken up from a nightmare of his own. This was one of the nights when he had never gotten to sleep, to begin with.
“Elder Price,” Connor started, hoping his voice sounded more exasperated than exhausted. “You need to get some sleep eventually.”
Price didn’t look up, but Connor could make out the ghost of a smile on his friend’s lips. “I will,” he promised softly, but Connor knew better than to believe it entirely. On more than one occasion, he had made the mistake of listening to the other man’s promises of getting to sleep soon and reassurances that he didn’t need to stay awake with him or walk him to his room. If he left before Elder Price went to bed, there was a massive chance the other elder wouldn’t go to bed at all, and an even larger chance that the few times he did appear to get some rest were faked.
Connor hummed softly, a disbelieving smile toying with his lips. Finally, the other elder met his eyes, his hands freezing on their respective cushions and his eyes wide in mock offense. “Are you implying that I’d lie to you, Elder McKinley?”
“If the shoe fits.” This was one of the better nights then. Neither of them was so shaken from memories or vivid dreams that they couldn’t pretend that they were there for any other reason. For tonight, they’d make-believe, they’d pretend they were friends under any other circumstances, that they both understand Arnold’s constant pop culture references, that they weren’t here because of trauma and its effects on the brain.
“I will get to sleep,” Kevin promised, holding up his right hand in a gesture Connor vaguely recognized, his expression dead serious. “Scout’s honor.”
It wasn’t funny, but Connor couldn’t help but laugh, quickly stifling the noise behind his hand. He didn’t miss the sudden confusion on Kevin’s face, which only made the not-funny situation actually funny. He shook violently, his hands pressed tightly to his mouth and nose to hold back his laughter, forcing himself to not look at the other missionary, knowing that it would just make things worse.
Maybe it was the exhaustion that came with never getting more than a few hours of fitful sleep, but Connor finally pulled himself together, a smile still on his face as he looked back at his friend. Kevin looked wary and confused, still not in on what was funny, but Connor didn’t really know what was so funny either.
“Of course, you were a boy scout,” he supplied, hoping that Kevin would get it. It wasn’t that being a boy scout was funny, or even that Kevin being one. It was that it just… fit. It fit so well with the perfect stereotype that was Kevin Price. It fit so well that it never really needed to be said.
Kevin rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. Not a fake missionary smile, or forced politeness that seemed to be a requirement of growing up in the midwest, but something real. Connor was right about thinking he had been seeing Kevin again. Maybe not full Kevin, but some real side of him at least. “And what’s that supposed to mean? You got something against boy scouts?”
Connor shook his head, still smiling as he leaned against the back of the couch, turning his body a little so he was facing Kevin. “No,” he said honestly. “It just sounds right.”
There was silence when Kevin didn’t answer, but it wasn’t stiff or cold. The air felt warm and soft as Kevin’s eyes drifted down towards the cushion he was sitting on, his fingers pulling at some of the loose threads. It was comfortable, and Connor couldn’t help but study the other man, the way his hands almost always seemed to have something to do, something to pick at or pull on. It wasn’t the first time Connor had watched Kevin exist like this, but this time, Kevin’s fingers didn’t freeze under the weight of his eyes. They didn’t pull back, going to the other man’s sides, or under his thighs like a child being told to sit still. The movement continued, and the silence remained comfortable.
Kevin broke it, his hands shifting to some invisible spot on his pajama pants. “I actually made it to Eagle Scouts.” Connor bit the inside of his lip, knowing the importance here. Kevin didn’t talk about his childhood much, even during their nighttime conversations. When he did talk about it, it was usually in passing or as context to something else. They compared vague experiences, the difference between being an only child and the middle child of six kids, the difference in their educations and lives inside the church. The past was never given details, though, and never brought up freely without context. Their lives before the mission were sore spots, and sore spots only existed in these hours to be soothed, not brought into the open and examined.
He met Kevin’s eyes, knowing what he was being given, but not knowing exactly what to do with it. “Sounds impressive,” he said softly. He didn’t know much about scouts, having never been interested in those programs for himself, and not having any friends who participated in the local troops, he didn’t have a reason to go.
The smile on Kevin’s face stopped meeting his eyes, his expression more wistful than happy or proud. “Yeah, most of the guys in my troop dropped by then,” he spoke softly, his gaze lowered to his pants again. “But it was fun for the most part.”
The topic had soured a little, and Connor knew it was best to steer away from their past. In his own experience, talking about his life before the mission only made his nightmares worse, and while Kevin never told him anything, Connor was pretty sure the same went for him. That would at least explain the particularly heavy bags and extra cup of coffee that always followed.
Connor cleared his throat, casting his mind around for something else to discuss. Something safe. He could ask about whether Kevin was planning on helping with some of the repairs that needed to be done in the village before the rainy season hit, but the idea of bringing the real world into their little bubble felt bitter and unpleasant.
He was saved from needing to come up with a topic of his own by Kevin, who spoke up before Connor had the chance. “Elder, McKinley, can I ask you something? Something personal?”
The light mood from before had disappeared like it had never existed to begin with. Connor didn’t know what Kevin had in mind, but he could tell from his voice that it was something serious. His first instinct was that Kevin was going to ask about his Hell Dreams, but that didn’t make too much sense to him. It was a well-known secret why he had those dreams, and even though Connor was on the slow road to accepting his… thoughts, he really didn’t want to be questioned, especially not by Kevin, the man who had been the star of his dreams, both hell and regular, since he arrived in Uganda.
A sickening weight settled in Connor’s stomach as he remembered the particular dream that brought him out here tonight, the filthy words that had dripped from Hell Kevin’s mouth, the pain and pleasure that always seemed to linger just under his skin after waking up, the fear that the real Kevin would, one day, look at him the same way Hell Kevin did, with a nauseating cocktail of disgust, hatred, and lust. He would rather die than admit to just how much worse Kevin had made his visits to Satan’s realm.
He also remembered his brief daydream, the one he couldn’t keep himself from drifting to when exhaustion was taking over, one where he was more than a friend to Kevin, where he was loved and cared for by someone who already meant way too much to him despite only knowing him for a few months. A few short months of growing friendship, and Connor couldn’t help but drag Kevin into his pointless fantasies that wouldn’t go anywhere. He was ashamed of his brain’s ceaseless desire to bring Kevin into every hopeful thought about his future. Kevin didn’t deserve to be viewed in such an inappropriate way.
Connor took a deep breath, attempting to settle his racing heart. It wouldn’t hurt to hear Kevin’s question. He didn’t have to answer, and he knew Kevin well enough to know that it wouldn’t be malicious. “Of course, Elder Price.” They were back to titles. This wasn’t desperately clinging to each other to erase the feeling of the ghosts that haunted them. This wasn’t a light-hearted conversation that would end in both of them desperately trying to stifle their laughter for fear of waking everyone before the sun was even up.
Elder Price was quiet, and the silence between them stretched on. Connor was about to break it, to ask if his friend was okay when the silence was broken for him. “How did you know you were gay?” The words were unnaturally small, the quiet voice whispering them doing so out of shame rather than an attempt to keep them from disturbing anyone else.
Though they had only known each other for four months, the way Kevin spoke didn’t sit right with Connor. It felt too similar to the night he had seen the raw, soft center of the person in front of him, too similar to when Kevin’s desire to simply disappear was tangible. Kevin, loud, boisterous, obnoxious Kevin, who took up more space than his tall, broad frame reasonably should, who always managed to draw the attention of every eye in the room for one reason or another, felt small. He felt ashamed and tiny and weak.
Connor had hoped he’d never get to see that much pure, unadulterated Kevin. But even though this appearance didn’t bring shuddering sobs or flinch away from the smallest touch before suddenly clinging to him like a life preserver, it was the same Kevin as before.
There was silence after the question, and Connor knew he was taking too long to answer, but he had two options. Option one was to pretend that he hadn’t heard. An act that wouldn’t be convincing in the quiet of the mission hut. Or option two, to acknowledge, to answer, and to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with Kevin.
Really, though, there was only one option.
Connor scooted a little closer to Kevin, his hand resting gently on the couch cushion between them, only an inch away from where Kevin’s fingers were tugging on loose threads again, a silent invitation of physical comfort. Not a demand, not an expectation, but there nonetheless. Kevin didn’t take it.
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to answer that,” Connor said softly. His throat felt sore and sticky, a lump forming, making it harder for the words he needed to say to make their way into open air. “I don’t even know that I’m-”
Kevin’s eyes met Connor’s again, his glare sharp and pointed. “If you’re about to finish that sentence with the word ‘gay’, save it.” A tense silence swelled between them, and Connor had no idea what to say now. He was accepting that he was attracted to men, and more slowly coming to accept that said attraction didn’t extend to women as well, but he had still avoided being the one to actually call himself gay. He knew that’s what it was, but knowing it and saying it were two different things. He wasn’t there yet.
Connor took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I’m not straight.” It felt like a solid compromise, admitting that he was definitely gay enough to potentially be of use if that’s what Kevin was after, but he didn’t need to admit to anything.
Kevin’s glare didn’t fade at the admission. Instead, it only hardened. For the first time since these nighttime conversations started, Connor felt completely out of his depth. He couldn’t give Kevin what he needed, and even if he somehow could, he didn’t even fully know what it even was that Kevin needed.
“Connor,” Kevin said slowly, his voice still quiet, but a lot firmer than it had been earlier. If this had been any other scenario, Connor would’ve savored whatever words were blessed upon him and memorized how it sounded to have Kevin say his name like that, but the vulnerability of having his dance around the topic of sexuality so thoroughly scrutinized outweighed the effects that voice should have. He was briefly reminded of exactly what Kevin had been like his first few days in Uganda. How self-serving and self-important he had been, how determined he was to get what he wanted, no matter who or what stood in his way. It had been simultaneously annoying and weirdly attractive back then, but now, when the focus was on something so sensitive, it sent a jolt of anxiety into Connor’s chest. Kevin Price was going to get what he wanted, Connor knew that. “Are you attracted to women?” The question was simple, and Kevin’s tone was softer than it had been before. It sounded closer to a genuine question than Connor had been expecting.
Slowly, after a moment of hesitation, Connor shook his head, heat flaring up in his cheeks at the admission.
Kevin nodded, tension draining from his shoulders, like that was not only the answer he’d been hoping for but that it was what he needed to hear. “How did you know?” He repeated his initial question, his voice a little louder and a little more hopeful this time.
“I think you already know that story,” Connor said softly. The whole hut knew of Steve Blade, his first crush, the boy that had kickstarted his near decade of Hell Dreams.
Kevin shook his head. “No, not just the Steve thing. Just, how do you know you like someone that way? Or don’t?”
That question struck Connor as a little odd.
It was no secret that Kevin didn’t do the best with emotions, oftentimes just plastering on his Mormon Smile and pushing back whatever it was. Kevin may not have called what he did ‘turning it off’, or applied it to every feeling, but Connor had never seen someone turn it off so well. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Kevin genuinely was a vaguely happy and polite mormon boy. But when Kevin couldn’t turn it off, he melted, lashing out at nearly everyone around him, including himself. It had only happened a couple of times, both instances caused by something that had seemed so small and inconsequential. A broken mug in the kitchen, not even Kevin’s favorite, and a sock that hadn’t made it back with the rest of the laundry. He had been inconsolable, his arms gesticulating wildly as he ranted and raved about everything that had happened since arriving in Uganda, yelling about each thing in his head and turning his frustration on everyone who dared to try and calm him down, with the exception of Arnold. Arnold had been the one to get Kevin to go outside and sit with him in the shade of one of the trees just outside the hut. Everyone inside was kind enough to not mention the audible sobbing and noises of frustration that made it through the tightly sealed windows when Kevin finally came back inside, Arnold only a step behind him and announcing that Kevin was ‘feeling big feelings’ and going to take a nap.
When it came to other people’s feelings, he was even worse, and he usually made the smart decision to stay as out of it as he reasonably could. The only exceptions were Arnold, who rarely seemed to need emotional support, and seemed to do best on Kevin’s rather unusual attempts, and Connor, who needed to be physically reassured more than anything else, something Kevin was good at.
But not being able to recognize attraction? That seemed like a bit much, even for Kevin. It wasn’t that it was a stupid question, far from it, actually, when Connor thought about it, but it was unexpected, to say the least.
“So how did I know I liked him?” Kevin just nodded, his eyes wide and expectant, a childlike look of curiosity sitting openly on his face. Out of all the unexpected responsibilities that came with being district leader, disarming fights over whether the Outer Realm should be referred to as The Death Star or Mordor, setting up PopTarts allowances for his companion, building structures and repairing houses instead of proselytizing, explaining how he knew he liked a boy in fifth grade was the least expected.
Connor cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing as he thought back to his friendship with Steve, before they went to different middle schools and never saw each other again. He tried to pinpoint the moment he knew, but if he was being honest, he struggled to pick apart the realization from the shame that came with it. Part of him seemed to know from the moment his feelings sprouted beyond platonic, but his brain had already picked up enough internalized homophobia to keep him from even considering a crush. He only realized when his feelings for his friend were boiling over, when he would look at his friend and immediately need to fight the desire to press a kiss to his lips. When Steve started haunting him at night.
“It’s hard to find the exact moment,” he said softly. “But I couldn’t really hide it from myself when I realized that wanting to kiss your friend wasn’t exactly the most platonic thing.”
Kevin frowned, watching Connor. “So you didn’t know until you wanted to kiss him?”
It felt like there was a little judgment there, but Connor did his best to ignore that. “Yes. That was a pretty big giveaway.”
“So you know you don’t like someone because you don’t want to kiss them?” There was definitely some judgment going on.
Connor crossed his arms, leaning back a little. “That’s the simplified version of it, yes.”
Kevin was quiet, looking down at his fingers once more. “Okay, but what if I want to hold their hand?” He looked up after he spoke, looking determined, as if his question was a challenge he expected Connor to counter.
Instead, Connor just blinked, not entirely sure what his answer to that even was. “Friends can hold hands,” he started.
Even if he hadn’t been looking, Connor would’ve been able to feel the eye-roll Kevin sent his way. “I don’t want to hold Arnold’s hand. His palms are sweaty and my hand would smell like garlic and lens cleaner after.”
“I didn’t say anything about holding Arnold’s hand,” Connor said quickly, feeling a little exasperated. “I’m just saying that if you’re questioning your sexuality because you want to hold someone’s hand, it can be platonic.”
“But I don’t want to hold anyone’s hand,” Kevin said, crossing his arms petulantly.
Connor was officially lost. “Wait, but then why did you-”
“I only want to hold one hand,” Kevin amended, his eyes no longer on Connor. “Not Arnold’s,” he added for good measure.
Connor could work with that. He at least had a bit more of an answer. “Maybe a really good friend? Do you want to hold girls’ hands too?” Kevin paused, shaking his head. That was a bit of a surprise. He had always expected Kevin to be straight, he had figured from the beginning that this might’ve been Kevin not knowing his own feelings, or that he was worried over something small that might not mean anything. “Do you want to kiss any girls?” At that question, Kevin actually wrinkled his nose, immediately shaking his head again. Maybe Kevin was gay then.
“I’m not even sure I want to kiss him,” Kevin said softly. “But I want to hold his hand. Only his hand.”
Connor nodded, wishing he could be inside of Kevin’s head for a moment, wanting to know exactly what was going on so he’d have a chance in hell to help him in a way that might actually be useful. “Is there anything else?” He asked quietly, hoping he’d be able to get some kind of answer. Kevin bit the inside of his cheek, shrugging, still not looking at Connor. “How does he make you feel?”
“Nervous,” Kevin said without hesitation. And that admission felt like the most intimate moment that they had ever shared together. They had each broken down in front of the other for one reason or another, they’d shared their worst fears, they’d talked about the ghosts around them, they’d shared tears and held each other as they fell, but Kevin’s admission that something makes him nervous was something so small yet so genuine. He’d never talked about the bad feelings everything had left him with. He talked about how things kept him awake, about the hands he could feel in places he didn’t want them as he drifted off, about the moments he relives at night, but not about the fear it instilled. Never about the obvious nerves that were struck whenever he was mentioned. It was a first, and it felt raw in a different way. In a way that meant Kevin could still be Kevin without being at his breaking point. “He makes me feel nervous, but not in a bad way. I want him to notice me whenever he’s there.”
That last sentence was another thing that just perfectly fit who Kevin was. It brought a smile to Connor’s lips. “I have a feeling he does,” he said softly. “You’re pretty hard to miss, Kevin.”
For the first time since talking about being a Boy Scout, Kevin smiled, his cheeks flushing in the candlelight. The sight made Connor’s heart pound in his chest, breath stuck in his throat. Kevin had been the most beautiful man he had ever seen in real life from the moment he walked into the mission hut that first night, a fact that definitely hadn’t changed, but it was hard to not be struck by just how incredible he looked at that moment.
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Kevin said, his smile still strong on his lips, even as he went back to the real topic at hand. “He just makes me feel good, about myself and him. I want to make him happy, to make him feel better.” The smile faltered, and Kevin’s eyes were glued to the couch cushions. “He hurts a lot, and I want to make him feel better.”
The mixture of jealousy, hope, and distress that rose in Connor’s chest at the last comment made him feel sick. He, selfishly, wanted to be the person Kevin was talking about. It made some sense, after all. They spent a lot of time together, sharing themselves in a way that only felt possible in the dark or soft candlelight. Kevin knew better than anyone, aside from himself, just how bad his Hell Dreams really were. He knew more than anyone else, even if that was still very little. There had been times during the day when he could almost convince himself that Kevin’s gaze lingers on him just a little longer than is typically appropriate, where Kevin’s hands seemed to be on him a little more than is strictly necessary. He knows he’s already on Kevin’s short list of people he will voluntarily make prolonged physical contact with. It would make sense, but it wasn’t him. He knew it couldn’t be him. Kevin probably wouldn’t talk to him about this. It just didn’t seem right, it didn’t seem likely. Then came the jealousy, the fact that someone else got to be the object of Kevin’s affections, another man, apparently. It was a moment of envy at its finest, where he couldn’t help but wonder just what this other guy had that he didn’t. Lastly was the realization that, logically, there was a massive chance that this person was one of their fellow missionaries. And if that was the case, then there was someone under this roof struggling more than Connor had known. There was someone he was responsible for having a rough time, and he hadn’t even been aware. He had failed one of his elders, he hadn’t given them the support and attention they needed. He hadn’t even noticed that they needed someone. It was a mean thought, but how bad must it be for Kevin of all people to notice their struggle? If it was that bad, then how had Connor not noticed?
Connor pushed his thoughts and feelings aside, telling himself that he wasn’t turning it off, just turning it down. In the morning, he’d keep a closer eye on his missionaries. He’d spend however long it took to gauge the mental and emotional state of each and every one, and from there he’d do what it took to help them in any way they needed.
“Can you tell me why he’s hurting?” Connor knew that this was something private and that Kevin would have every right to not share this piece of information, it was arguably the correct thing to do to hold it to himself, but Connor knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going to worst case scenarios if he didn’t at least ask.
The look Kevin gave him was weird, something that Connor struggled to read, which was new. If there wasn’t a wide mormon smile on Kevin’s lips, his emotions showed plainly on his face. He was expressive, his face reacting to everything around him before anything else caught up. Not knowing how he was feeling was unsettling, and usually meant a tantrum over a missing sock. “You already know,” Kevin said, sounding more than a little confused.
Out of everything that Kevin could’ve said, that non-answer was the worst. He would’ve preferred that Kevin just hadn’t given him an answer than that cryptic reveal of nothing. His throat tightened. It must’ve been obvious that one of his boys was struggling, and yet he hadn’t been able to notice. He had failed them. All of them. Not just whoever Kevin had a crush on, but everyone else as well. He was supposed to be there to help all of them, to listen, advise and assist wherever possible. If someone was struggling and he hadn’t noticed, yet Kevin had, then who was to say that it wasn’t everyone? For all he knew, all of his missionaries were hurting and he hadn’t even noticed.
Connor’s eyes burned. His throat hurt. His stomach felt like it was clenched in tight knots. His brain simultaneously felt like it was traveling at light speeds and stuck in thick molasses, unable to move. He reached a hand towards his hair, running his fingers through his curls on instinct, and he didn’t feel when he started to pull. He couldn’t breathe, but that was alright. The air was too thick anyways, it would’ve gotten stuck in his throat, choking him regardless. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, like the world around him had been muted entirely.
Then there was something around him, something warm and firm, pulling him close to something larger, something steady and comforting. He was surrounded by the scent of stale coffee and toothpaste and something warm. The sound was slowly coming back on, creeping up from zero. There was something loud, rushing, and inconsistent. It sounded wrong and painful. Wherever it was coming from, they needed help. Someone needed help, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. There was a weight around him, warm and comforting, but he needed it off. He needed to help, to calm his friends down, to fix things. The sound grew louder, the inconsistent breathing now accompanied by something else. Two something elses. The louder sounded like a wounded animal, a high-pitched whine that sounded in time with the other noise, random beats accompanied by something else. The quieter one sounded nicer. The reassuring voice of someone familiar. He couldn’t pinpoint the words, he couldn’t even picture the face, but they sounded nice. They were what he wanted to listen to. He wanted to know what was being said, to hear something other than someone’s pained breathing.
The wounded animal stopped, and the voice came a little more into focus.
”Never seen Arnold so… he was practically ready to… I had to hold him back so he didn’t…”
There was information missing, but Connor didn’t care. The voice was trustworthy, it made things better. He rested back against the warm wall behind him, and he could feel something on his shoulder, rubbing it in a circular motion. Between the warmth, the rhythm being caressed into his shoulder, and the steady voice still telling a story he couldn’t bring himself to pay any more attention to, he lost the sound of someone struggling to breathe. He took in a deep breath, gaining comfort from the familiar scent. He only knew one person who smelled so strongly of coffee that it lingered hours after his last cup. He only knew one person who was long enough for Connor to rest his head on his shoulder so comfortably. He only knew one person with a voice that sounded so calming yet optimistic.
“There you are,” Kevin’s voice had dropped the story he was telling, and the slight shift behind him told Connor that he was being watched now.
Connor’s throat hurt, his head felt like it was swimming, but he smiled. He felt tired, exhausted like he’d run a marathon, but he smiled. “Here I am.” The words scratched at the back of his throat, and he immediately longed for a glass of water.
The hand on his shoulder was still rubbing gentle circles into his shirt, and an arm was still wrapped loosely around his waist. He felt warm, comfortable, and strangely content. He didn’t want to get up and move. “How are you feeling?” It wasn’t just Kevin’s voice, it was Kevin.
There wasn’t an answer ready on Connor’s tongue, and his brain felt too soupy to come up with anything on its own. So he hummed, relaxing against the firm body behind him. He was vaguely aware of how inappropriate this was, that if this was any other situation, he’d have countless problems on his hand for allowing this. The district leader in his brain was the first thing to recover, and it was immediately reminding him that he needed to get up, that he needed to sort everything out and make sure everyone was okay, that nothing had happened, that someone needing help had just been a figment of his imagination before being brought to the world by Kevin Price.
Kevin Price, who was still holding him in a far too intimate way.
Kevin Price, who had taken Connor’s hum as the answer it was and was going back to his story, backing up after rightfully assuming that Connor had missed almost all of it.
For the first time since he was told he was going to be a district leader, Connor ignored that part of his brain. He didn’t think Kevin would allow him to get up yet, and even if he would, Connor didn’t want to. Regardless of his feelings towards Kevin specifically, it felt nice to be in his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him in a way remotely similar to this. The closest thing he got these days was the occasional hug, even before the mission. He figured the last person to hold him must’ve been his mother, but he had long since outgrown this kind of comfort from her.
He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the moment, and not caring when he started to slowly drift off, his head tucked into the crook of Kevin’s neck. He wasn’t sure how long it was before something shifted, and Connor became aware of his surroundings again. He knew immediately what had changed, and his shoulder felt cold without the warm weight of Kevin’s hand against it. Connor’s brain was still syrupy, still slow to process the world around him, and slower to interact with it. He was about to ask the time, figuring it must’ve been late, or early depending on how you looked at it, and that it was time for them to go back to their rooms when something else changed. Familiar warm, calloused fingers carefully clasped around his hand, gently holding it like it would shatter at any moment. Then there was a third and final shift, and Kevin’s fingers laced through his own.
Kevin was holding his hand. And Connor didn’t fully understand exactly what that meant, even after the conversation he’d had with Kevin however long ago that was, but he knew it was big.
It was big because he wanted to, because Kevin only wanted to hold one hand.
Kevin Price wanted to hold his hand.