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Prior to his his mission, Kevin hadn’t been one to stay in close contact with people that he knew. It wasn’t that Kevin Price was an unfriendly person by any means, and he got on well with most people. In fact, he hadn’t even realised until he came out Uganda with a new outlook, a best friend, tentative gay feelings and a stunning loss of faith, that he hadn’t actually had many friends.
He’d thought he’d had friends. That was the worst of it.
Kevin had had his shoulders manfully shaken, and had given great grins and helped little old ladies with their shopping baskets, and had never progressed beyond that. His Facebook page prior to his mission had been bland and basic, connecting Kevin to his family - close and extended - and people from school who would ask for help with homework on his wall and remind him about payments due. It was stranger still that before Uganda that had felt like enough.
Everyone got on well with Kevin Price, but people didn’t know Kevin.
That had changed.
But he had Arnold now, Arnold and Nabulungi and whatever Connor was to him. That was going to take longer to work out.
There was a whole mission, and a lifestyle shift and a world rebuilt under bright sun and hopeful future to reframe his thoughts.
And when he worked it out, it was glorious.
It was a strange jump to go from keeping people, subconsciously, at arms distance, to staying in contact with the dozen or so boys that you’d shared a hut, life and religion with in a strange and unusual country. Some people naturally swayed towards others, and not everyone had fallen in as far or as closely as Kevin had with Arnold and Connor.
But friends were friends, and having gone through what they all had in Uganda there was a bond there. So, it wasn’t unheard of for Kevin to get a Facebook message from Chris Thomas. Poptart’s was Connor’s ex-mission companion, and he and Kevin had always got on well, and even better once Kevin and Connor had started dating, officially. Unlike Kevin, Poptarts went to the same university as Connor. They weren’t roommates though, apparently, they had both considered it and thought, perhaps, they could do with a break from each other. It would help Connor learn how not to a a district leader, and how to be a friend again, which Kevin thought was no bad thing.
In contrast Kevin and Arnold had moved into a pokey little apartment which they could have never afforded if Kevin’s parents hadn’t been so supportive. Sometimes people just needed different things.
But, because Connor and Poptarts still hung out, they were still close friends even after what had happened, Kevin would occasionally get selfies sent by Chris after the two of them had finished assignments, or the occasionally candid picture of Connor hard at work in the library which always brightened Kevin’s working day.
It wasn’t strange for Kevin to get messages from Chris, but it often wasn’t anything vital either. And Kevin might have friends now, but he also had responsibilities and a job and a boyfriend. All three were incarnations of things that he had never expected to land in the form that they had. And while he had felt his phone buzz in his pocket and flicked the screen on, he had tucked it straight back into his pocket when he saw the emojis indicating sender. He would check it at break. As much as he liked talking to his friends, it wasn’t worth getting in trouble with his boss over. Responsibilities.
Once break rolled around, there were three missed calls and a dozen messages on multiple different mediums. Kevin hadn’t even known that he had twitter on his phone, and there was a pang of worry when he saw that each and all of them were from Chris. It was embarrassing to admit that he was too scared to open any of the messages, so instead of stopping to rationalise the irrational response he pressed redial and with every ring he felt his resolve slip.
“Kevin, I’m glad you rang back. It’s Connor,” Chris said, and he sounded calmer than Kevin would have expected. Which relieved his heart a little, but did little to shake his racing thoughts. It was always going to be about Connor.
“Yes. Chris what’s-”
But Kevin didn’t have the opportunity to finish his question before Chris interrupted him.
“Now, don’t panic because he’s fine but we’re at the hospital.”
“Hospital! He’s at the hospital?” Kevin said, aware that he was blindly echoing Chris’s words and not contributing to the conversation.
“He collapsed during rehearsal for the summer pageant, he was just admitted because he was unconscious for long enough for them to call an ambulance and he’s a touch dehydrated. Nothing to worry about.”
But Kevin was worried, worried about Connor, worried about how Connor who was disowned from his own family was going to pay, worried about how could Kevin be such a bad boyfriend that he let Connor get into that state, worried that Connor had been unconscious. Kevin was worried all the way through Chris giving him the hospital details, and visitor hours, was worried all through speaking to his boss, and was worried the whole subway ride to the hospital.
He only realised as he got there, that he didn’t ask why it was that Poptarts had known about it. Chris wasn’t involved in the Summer Pageant, that Kevin knew because the previous week he and Connor had been curled up on the terribly battered loveseat and Connor had been complaining how none of his friends understood his artistic passions. And Kevin had smiled, and petted his hair and kissed his cheek, not really listening because he’d already bought his tickets to support Connor in his managerial debut. Not that Connor knew that yet, because it was endearing watching Connor try and persuade Kevin to come to something that Kevin was going to do anyway. He was always going to do it. He loved Connor, even if he had not yet vocalised that particular facet of their relationship.
“Are you family?” The nurse asked, she was harried and Kevin was sure that his smile wasn’t as genuine as it normally was as he answered.
“No, but I’m his partner, Kevin Price. He doesn’t have any family.”
The nurse didn’t go as far to look sympathetic or particularly confused, but she looked at him thoughtfully as she rattled off the room number.
“His emergency contact did give me your name, he’s in with him now, you can go through.”
Ah. His emergency contact. That would explain why it was Chris who had made the call. Chris and Connor had always been close. Arnold would probably call Kevin before his own family, after all Kevin was closer to Arnold geographically than his family was. And Poptarts was only a few blocks away from Connor, while it had taken Kevin nearly half an hour to get to him from work. Of course, Chris was his emergency contact. It wasn’t strange at all.
The room number that Kevin has been given wasn’t a private ward, and when he pushed the door open there was a room full of relatively healthy people, surrounded by friends and loved ones. That, more than anything the nurse or Chris said made Kevin feel relieved. They wouldn’t have put Connor in with these people if he were really ill, he’d need his rest. But he felt most relieved when he dragged his eyes down the rows of beds and chairs and saw Connor. Connor, there with an IV drip in but sitting upright and talking and happy, but happier still when Kevin walked up.
Chris lent over the back of Connor’s chair, fussing with the strap of the bag that Kevin recognised as Connor’s performance bag - there’d be the technical rehearsal script in it as well as his dance clothes. Well, his dance shirt, as Kevin recognised the rather form fitting nature of Connor’s dance pants even with Connor sat looking sheepish on an upright chair.
“Right, you,” Chris said, looking at Kevin with half a smile, although he was still looking at and talking to Connor, “now your knight in shining armour has arrived I’ve got to dash off, I’ve got a tutorial with Mrs Cohen which I managed to rearrange – no, don’t you dare apologise. Just, look after yourself.”
Connor looked more embarrassed than sick, awkward and too big in his skin, but he still reached out to hug Chris, and awkward clasp around the middle that Chris lent down and returned. Kevin didn’t need to hear whatever it was that he muttered. It wasn’t for him.
Kevin himself reached out for Chris before he left, a light squeeze on the arm and a tight smile, which got looser and Chris grinned back.
“Thanks for looking after him,” he said honestly.
“What else are mission companions for?” Chris asked, although it was so clearly rhetorical that it served as the final word on the subject and he dismissed the two of them with a wave.
The bed was unmade, Connor had clearly been up on the bed, being examined most likely, before moving to the chair, so Kevin didn’t feel awkward about perching up on the edge of it. Connor had the only chair assigned to the unit. Kevin hesitated for a brief moment, the emotions finally having caught up with him. He contrasted the worry of Chris’s messages to the sight of Connor happy and almost whole before him. There was a part of him that wanted an apology from Connor for worrying him, but it doesn’t come.
Instead Connor smiled, small and bashful, and Kevin supposed that that would have to do.
Luckily Connor doesn’t have to be kept in for observation, and Connor was able to arrange his discharge in only a couple of hours. Kevin got himself a coffee, and touched his boyfriend’s shoulder just to assure himself that things were fine, and Kevin waited.
“They just wanted to make sure that someone was going to look after me. And aren’t I lucky that I’ve got such a diligent and wonderful boyfriend who will do just that,” Connor said as they removed the IV drip from his arm, leaving him wincing. Kevin would reach out, but he’s got Connor’s papers in one hand, and his bag in the other.
“Right, okay. Let’s get you home,” Kevin said. And he doesn’t know why it comes out so harsh, when there was still a bubbling undercurrent of nerves regarding Connor’s wellbeing. But Connor doesn’t seem to notice, leaning into Kevin. Kevin leant back.
And Connor is fine, but that doesn’t stop Kevin helping him up and fussing over him. But if he’s so brilliant, then why was Kevin the last person to know.
They get a cab back to Connor’s student halls. Because, while Kevin knows that personally he’d prefer to be looking after Connor in his own apartment, he knows well enough that Connor will want his own space and his own things around him. Even a few months ago it’s possible that Kevin wouldn’t have realised that at all.
Kevin doesn’t go as far as to tuck Connor into bed, because he knows that Connor will raise his eyebrows sharp and pointed and will accuse of Kevin of coddling him, regardless of the fact that he’d been called to hospital because his boyfriend had acted rashly and stupidly. Connor was supposed to be better than that, he’d been made responsible for a dozen boys at age nineteen. He should be better at looking after himself. It was hard to unlearn the attitude of their past lives sometimes.
So, he doesn’t tuck Connor into bed, but he does get him comfortable on his bed, up against the wall and a barricade of cushions. Connor doesn’t object to Kevin toeing off his own shoes, and setting up Netflix beside him.
Kevin realises that they haven’t actually spent the night together, like that, but right now, with Connor cocooned against him he can’t think of a single reason to leave this room. Unless Connor doesn’t want him there. But Connor has one hand tight against Kevin’s thigh, heavy and comforting.
Connor’s arm starts to bleed halfway through the first episode’s credits, he’s been irritating where the IV had been inserted, and Kevin’s heart breaks again a little when Connor for a moment looks so small and confused before pressing his fingers to the spot. Kevin removes those fingers with a gentle touch, and kissing the crook of an elbow is awkward, but Kevin does so. And it’s while looking up at Connor from where he is almost cushioned on his chest that Kevin asks.
Kevin isn’t quite sure who is comforting the other.
“Why wasn’t I your emergency contact? I didn’t know. I was at work and Chris couldn’t get hold of me. He always sends me just silly messages. I didn’t think it was important.” And Kevin is mortified that his voice cracks on the final word.
“Oh, Kevin,” Connor says, looking down as him.
And then Connor bursts into tears.
It’s an awkward motion, with the two of them reaching up and out to embrace the other. It’s been an emotional day. Netflix automatically plays the next episode. Life continues outside of the little bubble they’ve made of each other.
The tears disappear almost as soon as they appear, a stress reaction more than any other but Kevin still fights the urge to make sure Connor drink something to make sure that he replaces the lost fluids. He can’t believe Connor fainted because he was dehydrated and overwhelmed. It’s supposed to be easier to look after yourself here, Kevin knows that it’s hard but he’s trying so hard himself.
“When they said that they were calling my emergency contact in the ambulance, Kevin I expected it to be you that arrived. I was so surprised when Chris walked in. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my companion and my best friend, but I wanted you.”
He sagged against Kevin, as though his strings had finally been cut for the day. No more tears, no more stress and no more energy. The pinprick had beaded up in his elbow again, and Kevin reached in and pressed his fingers into it without looking away from Connor.
“I just gave college the same paperwork I provided to the Missionary Training Centre, Poptarts was my mission companion, so he’s my emergency contact. Well, he will have been. That is, I can’t put my parents down, and we’d only just started dating, I couldn’t have put you that would have been too much. I’m not reading it wrong that- I can put you down now, right? That’s quite a commitment. And, I’m sorry Kevin.”
It’s the first apology that Kevin has gotten for the emotional wreck that has been today, and as Connor ineloquently tries to get his point across, Kevin realises that he doesn’t need an apology. He just wants Connor, happy and healthy and his. It’s a commitment, but Kevin is ready for that, and he says as much, pressing his forehead against Connor’s, hand still wrapped around his elbow.
“Yes, Connor. Please do.”
Before Uganda, before Connor and Arnold and his life changing in the most unexpected yet incredibly way, Kevin had never made an effort to stay in contact with people. But at this moment, he couldn’t bear to let Connor go long enough to update his information. Staying in contact was all well and good, but it was more important to be present and here in the moment. They would have the future to stay together.