Conner isn't surprised. Since their first kiss, he waited for the day when this would end. Most people define their relationship in terms of how long they have been together. Conner defines his relationship with Kevin, by how much time they have left. He told himself that he wouldn't get attached but Conner has never been good at taking his own advice

Kevin is waiting for Conner to say something. How long has he been silent? Not answering is the only way that Conner can prolong the inevitable. Somewhere in the middle of this silence is a relationship that was never quite solidified. It's also a relationship that Conner isn't ready to say goodbye to.

Maybe if he gives it enough time, Kevin will take back what he said. This has to end. It was the first thing Kevin said when he sat down next to Conner. He sounded defeated. Even worse, he sounded like someone who had made up his mind. Conner knew that Kevin didn't mean it. So why did he say it? Why are his eyes pleading with Conner to understand. Why does Conner feel as though Kevin is going to follow through with leaving him.

Kevin is wrong. This doesn't have to end. Kevin is choosing to end it. It's not like Conner isn't scared. He knows what they have in Uganda won't parallel their lives in Utah. Part of him can't quite imagine what it will be like to see a movie with Kevin or meet at the park. Maybe it won't work, maybe Kevin is right and there will be too much pressure on them back in Utah, but at least Conner is willing to take the chance.

Tomorrow, several Elders will begin their trip to Kampala, where they will catch their flight back home. Though they were able to stay affiliated with the church, and had officially baptized members of several villages, Conner doubted anyone would be returning to proud parents. It's not the ending he had expected, but then, this entire mission wasn't what he expected. Now, one of the two missionaries who started the downfall of his district is anxiously sitting at his side.

Conner keeps his gaze fixed on the grass in front of them. Two years ago, he would have been too frightened to sit outside at night. He was scared that murderers or lions would jump out of the brush and drag him away. He was scared of leaving the mission and breaking the rules that had been established for all the Elders. It was his duty to set an example, after all. All those fears have left him. How bitter sweet that once he is finally comfortable in his surroundings, it's time to return home. Worse yet, once he is finally comfortable with himself, he has to return to a life that requires him to shut everything away.

"Conner?" Kevin asks. His voice is gentle. Conner wants to put his head on Kevin's shoulder and have him say that everything will be okay. Lie to me, he wants to whisper. Tell me that you will write. Tell me that you'll call when you return home. Promise me that you'll finally accept yourself. But Kevin won't say any of that. Kevin is only good at lying to himself. A habit he is not quite ready to face.

All Conner can do is try to keep his hands from trembling. He shakes his head a few times, trying to buy time to clear his tightening throat. The trick is to keep breathing, but right now, all the air in Conner feels as though it's being squeezed out of him.

Conner clears his throat. It sounds harsh against the silence of the night. "You don't mean that," Conner says.

Kevin pulls at the buttons of his shirt. He tugs at every button, distracting himself from meeting Conner's eyes. When he reaches the bottom of his shirt, he shrugs his shoulders in confusion. "We knew this couldn't continue," his voice is quiet, almost questioning why Conner is making him say this. Doesn't he see that this is hard on him, too?

They promised each other that they wouldn't make this difficult. That was months ago before Conner realized that his feelings weren't going to magically disappear. Part of him thought that if he kissed Kevin, he would get this, whatever this was, out of his system. He's not sure how it happened. He just remembers that Kevin tasted a bit too much like mouthwash and fear. Fear that someone might have seen them. Fear that Kevin's look of, oh-God-judge-me, was mirrored on Conner's face. Somehow, that kiss turned into a promise that whatever was going on between them would stop the day that Conner went back to Utah. It's a promise Conner was hoping that they would both break.

Kissing Kevin didn't make his feeling disappear. Instead, it solidified the idea that maybe, maybe this wasn't wrong after all. Conner doesn't want to fall back into a life where he has to hide himself. "I don't think we'll know if this can continue unless we try."

Kevin closes his eyes. He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want Conner picking down his wall. "Conner, please, don't make this harder than it has to be," he says. Kevin is somewhere between pleading and demanding.

Conner won't back down. Not now. "I'm not asking for forever, I'm asking for a chance."

Somehow, they got from the awkward first kiss to now and Conner wishes they were still stuck somewhere in the middle. Conner always pushed for some kind of title. Yes, it was pushy but he wanted some sense of security in the part of his life that never made sense. Being confused about definitions is better than the end of them all together. He's not entirely sure what this is, but he knows he wants to find out where it can go.

"I don't think I can give you that chance." Kevin fumbles over his words. He stiffens, as though he is waiting for Conner to lash out at him.

There it is, Conner thinks. He was wondering if Kevin was going to be brave enough to say it out loud. Conner can't be mad at Kevin for this. They spoke about this countless times. Both promising things they couldn't promise until they realized that moving home would tear them apart. Conner can still remember the first time Kevin pulled him close and said, "we'll find a way for this to work." He can't quite remember who was the first to say, "it won't work." He wants to cringe because he's fairly certain it was him even though Kevin is the one following through with it.

No, Conner can't be mad at Kevin, but he is.

He shifts, all too aware of Kevin's weight pushing against him. Kevin is pressing against him, reminding him of everything he can't have. He wants to run his hair through Kevin's hair or play with the tips of his fingers but he doesn't feel like he has the right to anymore.

"I'm not ready for this to end." Conner sounds silly and weak but at least he is honest.

"It will get easier," Kevin says. "For both of us." He doesn't sound convinced. "You'll be okay once you get home."

The truth is, this is the furthest from okay that Conner has felt in year. He's not naive. He knows that he can't walk out of the plane and say, "guess what I learned about myself in Uganda." He can't show his parents the few pictures he has with Kevin and expect them to say how they can't wait to meet him. There aren't many pictures. Most were taken by the other Elders as they tried to capture everyday life in Uganda. His favorite photograph is a group picture. All the Elders were holding a shovel. Everyone was looking at the camera except for Kevin and Conner who were smiling at each other over some inside joke. Maybe they can't define their relationship in words but Conner is confident that he can define it by looking at the photograph.

Conner doesn't want Kevin to become a memory on a worn out photograph. "We can try," he says. "We can figure something out."

"It's not that easy," Kevin says. "What about our families? We've already failed as missionaries." He runs his hands through his hair. "Imagine how they will feel if they find out about us."

"Imagine how we will feel if we have to keep hiding this."

"Maybe we should." Kevin sounds tired. "Maybe this really isn't right."

He silence that follows is almost unbearable. kevin kisses Conner and he's so close to crumbling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Kevin says. "This is just so...overwhelming."

Conner plucks a blade of grass. He twirls it in his finger until it's withered. Kevin did mean that. He was stupid to let this go so far. He shouldn't have kissed Kevin, he shouldn't have been weak and tempted and he definitely shouldn't have lost his virginity to a guy too scared to disappoint his parents. But he let everything happen because he couldn't imagine an end. On the brink of goodbye, Conner knows he won't erase those memories. He can still feel Kevin's tongue trailing down his abdomen. He remembers Kevin's transition from being shy to being confident, replacing trembling fingers with confident hands that pinned Conner to the bed. No, he won't forget and he will never let his memories make him feel disgusted or guilty because he's never felt more complete. Conner is fine with wanting this, he's fine with wanting more. He wants to feel Kevin's mouth kissing his rib cage and laughing into his stomach after he bites down too hard. He wants to go home knowing that Kevin will call him and tell him that he misses him. He wants everything Kevin has to offer.

Conner rests his head on Kevin's shoulders. "So, what happens when I fly back to Utah?" He doesn't want to know the answer.

Kevin strokes one of Conner's fingers. "I'm not sure."

"Will you write?"

Kevin shakes his head. "It's too risky. Who knows who reads our letters."

"Can we still see each other when you get back?" Conner asks. it only takes an hour to drive from Park City to Woodruff.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Kevin's voice is soft. He doesn't want to be saying this but he is. It would be too easy to fall back into old habits, especially when both men didn't want those habits to die.

Conner shakes his head. "I don't think I can handle that." It's the most honest any of them have been. Maybe he's overly emotional but everything is suddenly too much to handle. He never thought he would be crying over Kevin Price, but here he is.

Kevin kisses the top of his head. If it wasn't for the fact that this was goodbye, Conner could imagine that this was his boyfriend comforting him. "D-don't think I'm abandoning you." Kevin's voice catches in his throat. Conner refuses to look at him because he knows there are tears in Kevin's eyes, too. "This hurts me, too."

So why are you doing this. Why are you saying goodbye. Conner knows that it's hard. How many years has he wasted questioning himself. How many times did he wish that he had the strength to look in the mirror and accept himself for who he is. It's so much harder to deny this than to accept it. Can't Kevin realize that. He wants tell Kevin that he is willing to wait until Kevin figures himself out. He should tell him that he can't imagine a life without him and wants to have stupid fights about putting salt on the popcorn. He doesn't know why he doesn't say it. Instead, he just nods.

Reality settles down on his shoulder. Kevin is not going to change his mind. He is going to succumb to his fear. This is the last time that Conner will be able to be this close. This is the last time that Kevin will wrap his arms around him. Kevin won't sneak into his room just to kiss him goodnight and there won't be any secret smiles between them at the dinner table. There will only be a cold reminder that the first person to ever show him any affection is only an hour away but completely unreachable.

"I love you," Kevin whispers and it hurts.

"That's not fair," a broken whisper. Conner never thought he would hear those words. The first time shouldn't hurt this bad.

Kevin rests his forehead against Conner's. "I should have told you sooner, " he says.

He shouldn't have said so at all. Not when he's denying everything that comes with those words.

Kevin looks lost, almost frightened. "I'm not really sure what that means," he says. "I just want you to know."

Conner's throat closes. He swears he's going to pass out. Out of all of Heavenly Father's tests, this is the hardest. Suddenly, Conner pushes Kevin away. The mission is in sight but he doubts he will be able to make it all the way back. He wants to tell Kevin to leave. He wants to say just break my heart and run because dang it, Conner loves Kevin, too. He feels so stupid for letting himself daydream about meeting Kevin's family. Was it three bothers and a sister or two brothers and two sisters? He feels stupid for daydreaming about meeting for tea, even though Conner still doesn't understand the point of decaffeinated beverages. It just shows that deep down, he's still just a silly little boy. A silly little boy who gave his heart to someone who couldn't keep it.

Conner can't say any of that. All he can say is, "I love you too, Kevin."

He doesn't want to walk back into his room because he knows that Kevin won't follow him. This must be the price for believing in happy endings. He prays that Heavenly Father will give him the strength to walk away. If this has to end, then let him walk away. "I-I have to go," It's the hardest thing Conner has ever said.

"No," Kevin says, grabbing his arm.

Conner almost laughs. You can't break someone's heart and beg them to stay.

"Kevin-"

"I don't know how to say goodbye," he says. "I don't want to say goodbye." His grip hardens and Conner prays that he won't let go.

"Please don't go," Kevin asks. "Not now. Not until the morning."

Conner knows he doesn't have the strength to leave Kevin. Not like this. Not when this is the last night they have together. Kevin opens his arms, an invitation Conner can't resist. He closes the small gap between the two. Kevin wraps Conner in his arms. Conner feels safe and secure and for a second, he can push the idea of going home away. He can push the idea away but he can't forget about it. Kevin squeezes harder. Conner honestly doesn't know how he will survive without Kevin.

Soft lips touch Conner's temple. He's still not entirely sure how he managed to fall so deeply in love with Kevin. The younger man, who let their entire mission fall apart because of his arrogance, but he did. He had fallen in love with Kevin, and now, he was going to have to say goodbye. So, he wipes one of Kevin's tears and agrees to stay until the morning. At least they have this, even though this, isn't enough.