Their relationship is all mouths and skin and bodies moving together. Never any words.
Elder McKinley tries to pretend he's okay with that—after all, it's more than anyone else has ever given him. But it's really not okay. He always imagined relationships with lots of talking, no secrets, never any hiding of emotion.
So when he's sure Elder Price is asleep, he practices saying it. "I love you, Kevin. I love you, Kevin." He whispers the words over and over until they don't even sound like words anymore. Then, the next night, he says them again, this time while Elder Price is lying next to him, awake. "I love you, Kevin."
Elder Price's face goes white. "W-What?"
"I…love you." Aren't you going to say it back? He wonders. He makes a puppy-dog face, a habit he doesn't even realize he has.
"I don't know what to say," Elder Price says.
"Say it back," Elder McKinley pleads.
Elder Price stays silent.
The next night, Elder McKinley stays awake, waiting for Elder Price to appear like he usually does.
No one shows up.