I can't quite put my finger on it. I feel sort of guilty because of that, like there's something I'm missing or not attending to. Then again, I don't think you're supposed to know exactly what it is that makes you love someone. If that's the case, I'm doing alright.

I think it started after I woke up from the Dream in Uganda. He was kneeling next to me, hovering, trying to call me back to reality. I still think back every so often to that moment; his blue, blue eyes searching for anything that would tell him I was alright. It was, as cliche as it sounds, like was staring straight into my soul. That was when he plucked the first string.

I'd never thought I was gay. To be honest, I still don't know if I am. I just know I love him. Before, I had always just assumed I was straight. I'd never felt much of anything for anyone, honestly. Arnold taught me how to care for someone, Naba how to have compassion, and Connor how to love.

Not that he was an expert himself. The first weeks, even the first couple months of our relationship abounded with stutters and averted eyes and blushing. He used to ask my permission before kissing me. (Once he asked if he could hold my hand. I didn't know if I should laugh or burst into tears over how cute it was. I ended up doing the former, thankfully.) Heavenly Father knows how long it took before he wouldn't shy away from me when other people were around.

Confession: I thought Mckinley was a complete basket case when I first met him. I mean, he was (and is) a nice, All-American wide-eyed hopeful Mormon boy, don't get me wrong. It was just so painfully obvious how uncomfortable he was in his own skin. Nobody else seemed to notice because he put on that bright damned smile all the time. (That being said, I thought that smile was gorgeous. I almost died when I got a glimpse of a real one for the first time.)

That's how this started. I noticed. I should explain, I'm a light sleeper. I've been woken up by flies bouncing off the windows at night. Even so, it blew my mind that no one seemed to hear Mckinley at night, smothering whimpers and waking with startled shrieks.

Initially it surprised me, anyways. They'd all just learned to sleep through it, like it was white noise. Good Lord, my baby's suffering was white noise.

The first night I checked on him is what I think of at It. (Connor agrees.) I waited in bed for his breathing to calm before getting up and walking to his room on the other side of the hall. As soon as I opened their door, he scrambled to wipe his face and catch his breath and greet me with that damned smile.

"Can I hell-help you, Elder Price? I hope everything is alright."

"I'm okay. I actually came to check on you."

He snuffled a moment.

"Everything is fine here, Elder."

"I thought you didn't lie."

He tried to act offended.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're telling the whole truth."

He glanced at his sleeping companion, then back at me. There was a gleam in his eyes, either from tears or vulnerability or both.

"Not here. I'll just-I'll just meet you downstairs in little bit. Alright?"

I nodded and closed the door. I went back to my room and put on trousers and some cotton shirt reserved for days off and headed down to the living room. I was alone on the couch for a minute before Connor arrived. He'd slipped on pants as well. Knowing him, I was surprised he hadn't changed into his entire uniform.

We just sort of looked each other over for a moment. He sighed and sat down next to me, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm so tired, my apologies."

"It's alright. I don't see much for you to apologize for."

He chuckled under his breath.

"I've plenty to be sorry for, Elder."

I paused.

"You can call me Kevin, if you want. It's just the two of us. I call Elder Cunningham Arnold, after all."

He opened his mouth, shaping my name on his lips like he was tasting it. "Kevin. It sounds nice. Suits you."

I smiled. "It'd be nice to know your name too, Elder Mckinley."

He seemed like the thought had never crossed his mind. "Oh, my name? It's, uh, Connor. I'm Connor."

We exchanged some simple conversation for a quarter hour or so, interjecting our names whenever even remotely appropriate. It dwindled into comfortable but heavy silence. I cleared my throat and asked why he'd been crying.

"I wasn't crying."

I gave him a skeptical glance. He wasn't looking at me anymore.

"I wasn't."

"I think first name basis means you can trust me, Connor."

"Then you should trust me. I wasn't crying."

"I should get my eyes checked, then."

He tried to laugh. Tried.

"Perhaps."

"But actually-"

"For goodness' sake, Kevin, stop."

I was taken aback at his tone. I doubted if he'd ever snapped at someone in his life. He noticed and made apology after apology until I had to put my hand over his mouth to get him to shut up. His breath hitched in a somewhat enticing way. I wish I had noticed.

"We don't have to talk about it if you really don't want to."

He looked like he felt guilty. I took my hand away from his face. I felt the need to elaborate.

"Just, you know, feel free to wake me up if you want to come down here and talk, okay? Arnold's a pretty heavy sleeper."

Connor sighed and said he would keep that in mind. He wouldn't take me up on my offer for three weeks. During that period, I still awoke to sounds of his distress. I waited. I hesitantly went back to sleep.

One night, the It night, he sounded bad. Really bad. I sat straight up in bed when I heard his footsteps in the hallway. Our door creaked open and I could barely make Connor out in the dark.

"Kevin?"

God, he sounded so tired. I climbed off my mattress and walked with him downstairs. I couldn't get myself to look at him until we sat down. He was blatantly shaking and seemed to have trouble making eye contact with me too.

"Do you want to talk?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"In a little bit."

I nodded and waited while I watched him breathe and calm down. I put an arm around his shoulders, which he shrugged off after a few seconds. I remember smiling at that, for whatever reason.

"I want to make sure you're okay is all," I explained. "I won't yell at you or anything."

He snorted. "Good to know."

He sat back, resting his head against the couch to analyze the ceiling.

"It's just a nightly thing, you know. I'm not much for explaining it. It's not that big of a deal."

"I disagree. It's so obviously affecting you, Connor."

He sighed heavily. "It's getting harder to fix myself."

"Sorry to say, I don't see anything that needs fixing."

He gave me a furtive glance. Even in the dark, his eyes were crystal blue. "I'm gay, Kevin. I know I am. I've spent the last ten years trying to fix that and I can't do it."

I was astounded by a couple of things. One, that he thought none of us knew he was gay. I mean, transparent closet much, good Lord. The other part was that he thought I didn't know he was trying to "fix it." He didn't do a great job of disguising it, what with the whole chorus-line number.

He continued. "That's what the dreams are from, Kevin. I've been damned since birth."

I shook my head. "No, Connor, no. That's not what the dreams are from. You're repressing yourself, making yourself out to be guilty. Once you accept yourself, I think you'll be okay." I beamed at him. "Okay?"

He narrowed his eyes in my direction. "Weren't you the one who told me not to act on gay thoughts?"

"I wasn't exactly a great person back then, Connor."

He rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless. I felt my heart swell a tad.

"A whole month ago, yep. That's plenty of time for a complete change," I affirmed.

"It would seem so."

Something like a wall had been torn down between us. I let silence take over. I tried putting my arm around him again, which he flinched initially at but didn't push away. He seemed to be dozing off, and I let him lay his head on my shoulder.

"What do you dream about?"

I didn't mean to ask it. I regretted it immediately at the time.

"Fire and brimstone like everyone else, usually."

"Usually?"

His breathing lulled. I thought he had fallen asleep until he answered again.

"Sometimes it's my family. They'll be angry or disappointed or homicidal or any combination of those. Sometimes it's Steve telling me how disgusting it all is. Or demons will take advantage of me in some - some sinful way."

He had tensed up again. I contemplated pulling away, but tightened my grip on his shoulder instead.

"I'm sorry. That sounds really stupid, but I am. That's terrible, Connor."

"It's not your fault."

"You don't deserve this."

That struck a chord. He twisted in my grip to stare at me, dumbstruck. There were tears in his eyes. Connor Mckinley did not cry in front of people. Never. Even now, now that's he's become so open and trusting, it's as rare as snow in Orlando.

I just returned his gaze. "You don't."

He tried to say something, but his voice broke and I found myself cradling his head against my chest and spewing some comforting phrases to him. He shuddered, stifling sobs that racked his frame. We only sat there like that for a couple of minutes. Connor calmed down (too quickly for my liking, if I'm honest) and issued an apology and a thank you.

"I wish you'd stop apologizing for things you don't need to."

"It's kind of a habit."

I wanted to cry.

"It's a habit we'll have to break, then."

I could feel him regarding me from the corners of his eyes. My arm was still wrapped around him, but it had slid down over his back. The touch had a sliver of intimacy in it that he must have sensed. I was relieved he didn't pull away.

"Maybe we could try to make each other happy," I ventured. "We can be there for each other in whatever way we need it, you know?"

I could feel him smile. He had leaned up into my shoulder again. "Continue."

"I mean, I really care about you."

"Nice to hear, considering I care about you as well."

"Arnold and I didn't exactly make things easier for you guys."

He shook his head. "Not at first, no. But there's something magnetic about you."

My heart fluttered. I hoped he couldn't feel it.

"You've really kept us together, Connor."

"It's sort of my job."

I laughed. (Harder than was appropriate, maybe.) "Then you've done it well. Everyone here loves you."

Cheek still pressed against my arm, he shifted to ogle at me. Subtlety is still not his strong point. "Everyone?"

"I meant what I said." I nuzzled his hair. He didn't object. "Mormons don't lie."

He bit his lip to hide a blooming grin. I lifted a hand and brushed his face, centimeters from his mouth. "Hey, I like it when you smile. C'mon."

His smile expanded. It was so bright and genuine and I'll be damned if my chest didn't nearly collapse in on itself. He glanced up at me, as if for approval, and kissed the knuckles of my fingers. The touch was soft, gentle and electric. I palmed his cheek and brought his mouth to meet mine. Mckinley froze for only a second, then took my other hand in his. He told me later that he was still afraid I would yell at him or something.

Obviously, I didn't.