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“Ladies and gentlemen, due to inclement weather in the tri-state area, all flights heading inland have been cancelled. Please contact the airline information desk for new flight arrangements.”
“Shit.”
“Language!”
They’re at the airport of Minneapolis, Minnesota, for their second layover on the way home. The first was in Amsterdam, and while Kevin would love to say he can cross Amsterdam off his cities-to-see checklist, it was really more of a mad-dash through the airport and only the briefest pause for coffee before they had to leave again. Because that’s the kind of man Kevin is today; someone who sustains himself mostly on caffeine and who thinks a city infamous for “coffee shops” that don’t sell coffee is a place worth visiting.
And when he says “they’re” at the airport, he means just Connor McKinley and himself. Because Arnold, that crazy sonuvabitch, decided to stay in Uganda. At least for a little while longer, until he and Nabulungi figured out how they wanted to fit together the puzzle pieces that make up a possible shared future.
Kevin is going to miss him. Hell, he already does. It’s amazing how fast these things can go. How he’s gone from feeling stuck with his new companion to helping him build up a whole new side-branch of Mormonism, watching him grow from a follower into a true leader.
But Arnold isn’t here. Connor, however, is. Because while they live in separate states, the first segments of their trip put them on the same plane. It made sense to spend the journey seated next to each other. Kevin hasn’t told Connor that he’s glad for the company, since he doesn’t like being alone nowadays. Even if you can’t ever truly be alone in an airport.
Now they’re standing here side-by-side, Kevin with a weekend bag he bought in Kampala after his luggage got kidnapped that first day, and Connor with that gaudy pink trolley he keeps dragging around everywhere. One of the wheels is a little squeaky.
And it looks like they’re not going home yet.
Connor sucks his lower lip between his teeth and lets it slip back out with a wet pop. “Darn. That’s us. Looks like we’re not making it home tonight.”
Kevin lets his shoulders droop. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, and the last place he wants to be is stuck at the airport.
“At least we’re already on the correct continent,” Kevin mumbles, and Connor sends him a quick smile.
“I thought you wanted to check out Amsterdam? Smoke some… drugs.”
Kevin raises both eyebrows, shit-eating grin smeared across his lips.
“‘Smoke drugs,’ huh?”
Connor immediately looks away. “You know what I mean.” He sounds embarrassed.
Kevin glances back up at the board flashing delay after cancellation after delay.
“Sure, Evan Hansen.”
Connor grips the handle of his trolley and tips it onto its side, already wheeling away. “Let’s find out what we’re supposed to do next.”
Kevin slings his bag over his shoulder and follows after him, perhaps a little too doggedly.
“Did you hear what I said? Because it’s a musical reference, so I thought-”
“Yes, Kevin, I heard.”
-
o
-
Turns out the storm isn’t done raging across the mainland yet. They get a small budget to spend on a hotel room for the night and if all goes well their tickets will be rescheduled to the next day. All in all a smooth recompense.
Kevin calls his parents to tell them the news, and has to actively persuade them not to come pick him up by car. Because if the weather’s bad enough to ward off planes, surely it’s an equally bad idea to drive. At least, that’s the excuse he gives them.
Really, it’s because Connor’s staying here. And he’d feel bad leaving him all by himself.
Really really, it’s because he isn’t ready to say goodbye yet.
He and Connor have sort of more or less kinda maybe definitely become friends over the past months. They’d bickered at first, Connor getting on his case a lot those first few weeks and months after that whole mess that was the Mission President and the Book of Arnold.
The whole questioning-God’s-existence spiel, and having your whole world turned upside down. And coffee and swearing and making up new rules as they went.
And the General.
Those days that found Kevin either listlessly lying in bed or acting violently out, jumping at shadows and unable to tolerate anyone standing behind him. He’d been A Lot, back then. Still is, some days, but less frequently.
…He should probably start seeing a therapist as soon as he gets home. Arnold told him he should, and he’s thought about it, but that would mean telling his parents that something happened that would require seeing a therapist to learn to deal with, and blegh.
Kevin never told anyone what happened, but somehow Arnold and Nabulungi found out anyway. Either they figured it out from context clues, or Gotswana told them, or whatever. Having them know without needing to tell them helped, a lot.
He’s not actually sure if Connor knows, but it was in his insistence not to leave Kevin alone for too long, not to give up on him even as he neglected his chores and pulled back from social situations, not to cut himself off completely. It was because of all those things combined that Kevin started the long and arduous process of feeling like a person again. Of figuring out who Kevin Price really is, after all is said and done.
So they became friends. Friends who tell each other when their outfit looks ridiculous, and who wait up together after the nightmares rouse them from sleep. Friends who’ll argue about whose turn it is to put out the trash and who know which popsicles to buy (blue raspberry for Kevin, cherry for Connor).
Friends who’ll look at each other for perhaps a beat or two too long while doing the dishes, Connor washing and Kevin towelling, Connor handing him a plate to dry and their thumbs brush together and that tiny little touch sends goosebumps prickling all over his flesh.
Just good friends, because they can’t be anything more than that. Because Kevin’s going home to one side of the country, and Connor’s going to the other, and they’ll never see each other again. And Kevin isn’t gay, he can’t be, isn’t allowed to be, so they don’t talk about it.
Of course, the universe likes to cheat when dealing its cards.
“I’m terribly sorry, we’re fully booked.”
“You’ll have to check nextdoors.”
“Sorry, no vacancies.”
“Oh, we have one room left!”
Kevin fights the urge to get down on his knees and praise the Lord, singing Hallelujah and Fucking Finally (written and performed by Kevin Price)!
They should’ve thought about it earlier; all those cancelled flights mean a lot of people who need a place to stay for the night. He and Connor have been walking around for at least an hour before they came here and finally heard those sweet, sweet words.
“That’s great,” Connor breathes, shoulders sagging with relief. “We’ll take it.”
“It’s a bit on the smaller side, but we’re fully booked other than that. Third floor, elevators are over there.”
Kevin snatches up their keycard and doesn’t think much about it as they stagger their way into the elevator, dead-tired after the many hours spent on a plane and getting all but swept away by the wind outside. It doesn’t register that perhaps he should’ve asked for clarification.
Really, it should have come as no surprise when they open the door to their room only to find themselves staring down at a closet-sized little square, what has to be the tiniest double bed ever squeezed between a wall and the door to the bathroom.
They’re all but standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they contemplate the bed, no room to run.
“It’s, um…” Connor smacks his lips. “It’s maybe just a little…”
“It’s a shoebox,” Kevin deadpans. He walks into the room and sits down on the mattress, which bounces easily under his weight. He’s trying very hard to suppress the rising panic, the implication of what he’s sitting on. Of who he’ll be forced to share it with.
Connor remains standing in the doorway, restlessly tapping his fingers against the trolley.
“I could ask if they have something with two beds. Have them double-check.”
Kevin leans back on his hands, does some mental math. They probably both fit, even if there’s not a lot of leftover wiggle room afterwards.
“You heard the lady. This is the last one they had. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna get out there and look for another hotel at this hour.”
Connor nods a little helplessly, steps further into the room so he can close the door behind him.
“I could um-” he swallows “-I can take the floor-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kevin says with a roll of the eye. “You’re gonna be cranky all day if you do that.”
Connor glares at him, a fierce blue glint from the barrel of a shotgun that has Kevin’s name on it.
“I’m trying to be considerate,” he huffs, a little peevishly. “We’re both adult men, it’ll be a hard fit.”
They are, aren’t they? Connor’s definitely changed over the course of these past two years. Not that much, he still has the same core, but noticeable enough. Freckles gone in hiding under layers of sunburn, and he’s put on some muscle from all the work they’ve been doing around town and the mission hut. Especially in his legs, those few times Kevin’s seen them (Good Lordy does he have nice legs).
They are definitely two adult men now, still young but no longer the boys that left home to go try and change the world.
Too bad Kevin’s decided he’s going to be stubborn about this.
“Come on, don’t be a baby. It’s just one night.”
It has the desired effect; Connor’s immediately irritated. Which means he won’t notice the anxious twitching of Kevin’s fingers, which he hides in the plush duvet.
“I’m a baby? Says the man who doesn’t know not to mix white shirts with red track pants.”
“That was one time!”
“And that time Nabulungi’s underwear somehow accidentally ended up in our laundry and you made me come get it because you were scared to touch it?”
Kevin’s face lights up like the Beacons of Minas Tirith. That was also one time, and he still suspects Arnold had something to do with it. He just can’t prove it.
Deflect, quick!
“Anyway, I’m tired. Join me or don’t, but I’m sleeping in this bed.”
He then starts demonstratively taking off his shirt, working his way down the buttons.
“...Fine,” Connor sighs, but he doesn’t move or say anything else.
Kevin looks up from his unbuttoning to find Connor casually staring at him, eyes drooping like he’s unaware of it. Sleepy but hyper-focused on Kevin’s chest.
Kevin scrapes his throat, and Connor’s eyes dart up to lock with his own, almost surprised to find him there.
“Do you mind?”
“Do I… oh gosh!”
Kevin doesn’t miss the way Connor’s ears turn red as he spins around and starts messing with his trolley. It’s almost enough to make him chicken out, take it all back, propose he take the floor instead. But Kevin Price isn’t a quitter, no matter how many times life tries to convince him of the opposite.
“I’ll just, um, change in the bathroom,” Connor blurts, grabbing a pair of pyjamas from his luggage before locking himself away.
Kevin buries his face in his hands.
This is going to be the most awkward night of his life, isn’t it?
-
o
-
Kevin exits the bathroom after brushing his teeth and emptying his bladder, and Connor’s already in bed, checking something on his phone. Which poses the second stumbling block.
But he’s not going to ask, because that would mean drawing attention to it.
Connor doesn’t look up from his screen, face lit up ominously. “Can you get the lights since you’re still standing?”
Kevin takes a deep breath to steady himself. Okay. He can do this. Get the lights, crawl under the covers, and then just immediately fall asleep. Not giving himself time to think about it. That’s the way this’ll go.
Kevin flicks off the lightswitch and bathes the room in darkness, the only light now coming from Connor’s phone. He only has to take two steps (counting them in his head nonetheless, a-one and a-two) to reach the bed, but it still feels like something’s after him as he leans over.
Not wanting to waste another second he flings back the duvet and all but jumps into bed; the less time his bare feet touch the clammy carpet the better.
“Hey!” Connor protests, but Kevin ignores him in favor of pulling the duvet all the way up to his chin and burying himself underneath, heart pounding.
Great job. That went superbly. Now Connor definitely still thinks he’s a normal functioning human being.
Connor shines his phone at Kevin, and Kevin squeezes his eyes shut against the harsh light.
“You okay? What’s going on?”
No he isn’t, there’s someone after him and he can’t breathe if he shows even one moment of weakness they’ll be able to smell his fear his left shoulder is exposed they’ll drag him out of bed and push him up against the wall-
“Fine,” he pushes out, willing his heart to calm down, “cold feet.”
“You sure?” Connor asks, a little more softly, and Kevin squints up at him.
Connor’s hanging overhead, face ghostly in the dim lighting. His eyes are filled with concern and he’s close, almost intimately so, breathing out into Kevin’s space and Kevin can’t have that. So he pushes his (indeed very cold) feet against Connor’s calves.
Connor yelps and retracts his legs, pulling back as far as he’s able to. Which isn’t very far, and Kevin would only have to wiggle the tiniest amount to chase after him. He keeps as still as a corpse.
“Forget I asked,” Connor grumbles, switching off the light and putting his phone in the charger. “I set an alarm so we can grab breakfast early.”
Kevin laughs a little breathlessly, trying to focus on Connor next to him rather than the gaping void on his other side. To focus on the mattress underneath his back, pushing up against him, covering him against sneak attacks.
“Goodnight,” Connor says, and Kevin whispers something similar back.
Then he closes his eyes and thinks about falling asleep.
Don’t think about anything but sleep.
Don’t think about the room, or the bed, or the boy lying in said bed.
Don’t think about how you could’ve been home by now, a complete return to normalcy, everything else fading until it’s nothing more than a dream.
Don’t think about hands and grabbing and people laughing and looking on, doing nothing, and then later having to forgive and forget.
Don’t think about any of it, don’t think about anything at all.
Connor rustles beside him.
“Okay, there’s definitely something.”
Kevin wants to tell him there really isn’t. Instead what comes out is the most pathetic little noise he’s ever heard.
Connor turns the flashlight on his phone back on, but luckily doesn’t shine it in Kevin’s eyes this time.
“What’s wrong, Kevin?”
Kevin looks up at him, tries and fails not to feel foolish.
“It’s,” he starts, voice small and croaky, “I usually sleep with my back to the wall.”
Connor frowns a little before his eyes widen in understanding. “You should’ve said!”
Kevin can’t look at him.
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s not.”
“I didn’t think it’d be this big of an issue. I guess it’s because I’m not familiar with this room, or something. I don’t know.”
“Is it because of the…”
“Yeah.” Kevin doesn’t want him to say it, is grateful for him to leave it up in the air. So he did know, after all.
Connor slings back the duvet, and for a moment Kevin’s panic increases at the empty exposed unsafe before Connor’s trying to crawl over him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, now a little more preoccupied by Connor touching his hip their stomachs are so close good God.
“Move over, I’m taking this side.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Come on, move.”
“Connor.”
“Kevin,” Connor says in an equally exasperated tone. He has this sad tilt to his mouth that Kevin really doesn’t care for. “If having your back against the wall is all you need to feel more safe, then stop being silly and go lie against the wall.”
Kevin swallows, finally relents.
There’s an awkward dance of shuffling and trying not to touch, Kevin squirming right as Connor goes left, a chorus of “excuse me” and “don’t step on my foot” and “I think you just pulled out some of my hair.”
Then Kevin’s on his side with his back pressed safely against the wall, and immediately he feels better. Less off-kilter, grounded. A reminder that he isn’t even in Uganda anymore, but in a dingy hotel in Minneapolis while rain beats against the window. No one can get him here.
Connor settles down, sends him a sad smile. “Next time, just ask.”
Kevin doesn’t dare to ask what he means by “next time.”
Connor then rolls onto his side, facing away from Kevin. Protecting him from the monsters.
And they don’t talk about it.
-
o
-
Kevin still can’t sleep, but now for entirely different reasons.
It’s just… Connor’s right there. Within reach. His shoulders and the back of his head taking up most of Kevin’s view. All he’d need to do is unfurl his hands from where they’re tucked up to his chest and slightly move forward, that’s all it would take.
Kevin’s practically sandwiched between Connor and the wall, and it should feel wrong but it doesn’t; instead it’s safe. And that sense of safety is confusing in its own right, because he shouldn’t feel like this, not when looking at another boy. Not when he’s going home tomorrow, back to his old life, and he’ll probably have to marry some girl in the not-too-distant future. A girl who doesn’t have red hair and freckles, who doesn’t make him want things he shouldn’t, who isn’t into tapdance and musicals and the color pink. Who doesn’t smell of lavender and baked goods, delicious in all the most enticing ways.
Kevin’s going left and Connor’s going right, so it’s no use thinking about it. Thinking about all those months of something there, of heads quickly turning and Arnold sending him knowing looks and Nabulungi telling him if there’s anything he ever wants to talk about, she’s there for him.
Still, he yearns.
Connor’s right there, and Kevin probably won’t ever see him again. This is their last night together. His fingers ache to reach out and touch.
A barely there twitch, fingers moving outward. Now the very tip of his index finger is resting against Connor’s back. Now two fingers, now up to his knuckles. Connor doesn’t move, doesn’t react. Kevin ever-so-gently presses the entire back of his hand in between Connor’s shoulderblades. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
But he can’t.
So he closes his eyes and listens to the soft rolling of Connor’s breathing, in and out, in and out, until he himself slips away.
-
o
-
Kevin is warm. Extremely warm.
There’s also something tucked under his arm, against his chest. Something solid and wriggly, too large to be a stuffed animal or pillow.
Kevin opens his eyes. Oh, it’s only Connor. Kevin closes his eyes.
Kevin opens his eyes again.
Connor is lying in his arms.
Kevin sharply inhales, then holds his breath out of fear of waking Connor.
If he cranes his neck and looks all the way down, he’s looking right into Connor’s sleeping face. He’s just so… peaceful, like this. Cosy and relaxed, not worrying about the wellbeing of a whole mission hut full of early twenty-somethings, not trying to “keep the gay at bay” or make himself smaller, lesser. Just a boy away from home.
Connor breathes in a little deeper, and his eyes blink open. They really are just the most startling hue of blue, bright and intense. Cutting straight through to your essence.
“Mornin’...” He notices their position. “Oh, wait. Did I…? Sorry. I move a lot in my sleep.”
“It’s fine,” Kevin says, voice rough with sleep and something else, something he really hopes Connor doesn’t pick up on. “So do I.”
Connor blinks himself a little more awake, and makes the mistake of slightly tilting his head up to better look at him.
Kevin’s breath catches in his throat. Connor’s eyes widen in mutual realization.
Like this… it would be all too easy. It’s only the tiniest gap to bridge. Kevin looking down and Connor looking up, something pulling taut between them as they gaze upon each other.
Still, neither of them moves, both caught in a stalemate of indecision.
Because what if they’re reading too much into it.
What if they ruin one of the best friendships they have.
What if it feels wrong, what if it feels right, what do they do with that?
Connor lets his eyes slip to tiny slits, almost sliding shut. Waiting. Leaving it up to Kevin.
And Kevin…
The alarm that Connor set last night goes off, successfully ruining whatever was about to happen.
Kevin scrapes his throat, and Connor quickly moves away to grab his phone.
“We should get breakfast.”
Connor won’t look at him.
“We should,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow.
-
o
-
Kevin feels like he might throw up.
They’re back at the airport, new tickets in hand. Their gates are in opposite directions, and Connor won’t meet his eyes.
“Well then,” Connor says, busying himself with the handle of his trolley. “I guess that’s it.”
“Yeah,” Kevin agrees. “Couldn’t have wished for a better district leader.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“I mean it,” Kevin stresses, and Connor flashes a wry smile before biting it back down.
“I couldn’t protect you, though.”
It takes Kevin a moment to get what he’s saying, and then he feels even worse.
“That’s not on you. That was all me, being an idiot.”
Connor shakes his head. “No, it definitely wasn’t you. You couldn’t have known. I should have better prepared you, informed you about-”
“No no no, don’t you dare feel bad about that!”
“Fine,” Connor huffs, “then let’s say it’s on neither of us, alright? That sometimes, bad stuff happens and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Kevin unclenches his fists, hadn’t even realized how wound up he was getting.
“Fine,” he agrees, even though it’ll probably take another few years for him to start believing that.
“Dear passengers, boarding will begin momentarily for flight…”
“That’s me,” Connor says, exhaling something like resignation.
He finally looks him in the eye, but it’s all wrong. Like Kevin woke up this morning and everything was put just slightly to the left, leaving him dizzy and disoriented without really knowing why.
Connor looks at him like it’s Farewell. And Kevin knew it probably would be, but he didn’t know right up ‘til now. It hadn’t hit him yet what farewell would mean to him.
Connor holds out his hand, and Kevin grabs and shakes it, but he isn’t feeling it.
“Well, Kevin Price. I wish you all the best.”
“Yeah. You too. Goodbye.” He says goodbye but it feels like farewell, caramel burning bittersweet on his tongue.
Connor lets go far too soon, and just like that he’s gone. Turning around and walking away, not sparing a single glance back.
And Kevin feels like he took a piece of him along.
-
o
-
Kevin’s sitting down on a bench with his head between his knees as he tries his hardest not to panic. To push down wave after wave of guilt and nausea, of knowing he’s making a mistake but not knowing why he feels it with such certainty.
Because surely he made the right decision, maintaining the status quo? Surely everyone’s better off this way? His parents, Connor’s parents, their futures protected…
But if he chose right, why does his entire body want to turn itself inside out?
A sticky hand holding a piece of brightly-wrapped candy is thrust in his peripheral view. Kevin jerks back, only to be confronted with a child staring up at him. Brown-eyed and pig-tailed innocence.
“My daddy tells me not to take candy from strangers, but he didn’t tell me not to give candy. And candy makes you feel better!”
Kevin is just a little dumbstruck. Getting life advice from some random kid.
He reaches out and carefully plucks the candy from that tiny hand.
“Um, thanks,” he mumbles, trying not to think about germs and how pathetic he must look if a child is taking pity on him.
“Annabelle, don’t go bothering people!” comes a voice, and off she darts.
Kevin’s gaze follows her as she crawls onto a man’s lap and kisses him on his cheek. The man laughs and hugs her close, and then suddenly there’s another man walking over with two cups of coffee. He leans down to hand over one of the cups, and it’s the most natural thing in the world when the other thanks him and leans up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
Kevin’s probably staring, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away even if he wanted to. It’s just… they look so happy. Just two guys, not a guy and a girl, going on a trip with their daughter. And they’re looking at each other like they’re all that matters in the world.
And suddenly Kevin bolts out of his seat and is bounding away, barely remembering to sling his bag over his shoulder. It thumps heavily against his side as he runs, faster almost than his legs can carry him.
Status quo, his ass! Since when does Kevin Price care about following the rules like a good little Mormon? That ship sailed two years ago.
Kevin’s eyes snap to the gate numbers as he tries desperately to remember the right one.
Not that one… no, not that one either…
A flash of pink. There! Thank God he hasn’t boarded yet.
Kevin makes to dramatically vault a bench, but while he’s done a lot of jogging back in Uganda, he is by no means an athlete.
Kevin’s leg gets caught and he falls face-first onto the floor.
Immediately people are rushing over to check whether he’s okay, and telling him he’s lucky he didn’t break his leg, and to be more careful from now on. Kevin’s sure his face is burning hotter than the sun, both with pain and shame. His nose might be bleeding too.
“What was that?” comes a familiar voice, and when Kevin looks up Connor’s staring at him with both eyebrows almost flying off his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Connor,” Kevin says, and rushes forward. Or limps forward, because fuck his leg hurts.
“Kevin?” Connor asks, jolting a little when Kevin grabs him by the neck.
“I forgot something,” Kevin hisses through the pain. “Something important.”
Connor doesn’t get it, blinking owlishly up at him. “What did you-”
Kevin kisses him. Right then and there, in the middle of the terminal. For the world to see.
Connor stiffens in his hold, and that sense of determination immediately vaporizes. Kevin pulls back and Connor’s face looks about as red as his own feels. He tries desperately to ignore the hoots and hollering, the scandalized gasps rising up around them.
“Shit, sorry,” Kevin says, “that was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Connor repeats, several octaves higher than his usual speaking voice. “Are you kidding me? What’d you do that for?”
Kevin backpedals, mind racing and skipping past their previous interactions. Did he get it wrong after all?
“I just thought,” he tries, “that you- I mean, I wanted, but I didn’t know if- but I guess I was wr-”
This time, Connor kisses him instead. Not wanting to let it go to waste, Kevin swallows whatever lame excuse he was going to come up with and kisses back, heart thundering against his ribs when Connor slings his arms around his shoulders to press closer.
Kevin kisses him, and asks himself why the fuck they didn’t do this earlier. Kissing Connor is great, actually. And something he wants to be doing every moment of every day from now on. Even if it does put him at higher risk of getting heart palpitations.
This time people are actively cheering them on, someone starts applauding and others join in, and Kevin tries desperately to ignore that too right up until it becomes impossible.
He pulls back and wants so very very much to crawl into a coffin and die. What seemed like a romantic gesture now just feels like he willingly stepped into a boiling pot of soup to let himself be cooked and eaten.
It makes it a little more bearable that Connor’s looking at him like he hung the moon.
“Now are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Connor asks, but it’s light and teasing, and Kevin knows he isn’t upset.
“I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel.” He dips his head, eyes shifting away. “Felt like I was making the biggest mistake of my life.”
Connor snorts. “You did more than just tell me!”
“Oops.”
Some greying lady off to the side leans in to whisper in her friend’s ear, loud enough that Kevin can hear. “This is much better than that episode of Friends!”
“Attention all passengers, boarding will now begin-”
Kevin’s stomach does a somersault. Too much happening at once, too overwhelming.
Connor looks behind him, then back at Kevin, eyes big and shiny.
“That’s my plane,” Connor says, voice tight. “Kevin-”
“You have my number,” Kevin says, “we can call, or, or meet up, we don’t live that far away-”
“Hours, Kevin.”
“That’s practically nothing!”
Connor laughs, but his eyes are leaking. Kevin draws him into a hug, frantic and tight.
“We’ll figure something out,” he promises.
“We better. Why did you wait until now? We had two whole years!”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t-”
“Passengers from group-”
Connor pulls back and Kevin lets him, but he’s scared to let go completely. Holds onto Connor’s arms, wants nothing more than just a little more time.
Connor leans up for one more kiss, and Kevin tries to put everything into it, everything he’s been too scared to say out loud.
“Call me. As soon as you get home,” Connor makes him promise.
“I will, I will. You get home safe.”
Connor shoots him a smile that’s so eye-blinding Kevin simply has to kiss him again. The people around them have more or less dispersed, but there’s still a couple stray cheers. Glad they’re providing entertainment, at least.
And then they’re breaking apart one final time, and Connor picks up his trolley and rolls it away, but not before shooting one final look over his shoulder.
And Kevin knows they’ll make it work. Especially if he has anything to say about it.
Because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being stubborn.