A/N: This is the corniest fic I've written to date, but it's also an idea I've had for a long time, so I ask only for you to indulge me.
Connor woke up with arms around him. They were familiar and comforting, but Connor felt his chest constrict at their presence nonetheless. He felt them tense up and stir, pulling away and leaving Connor feeling cold. He sat up and glanced at Price, who had stood up to stretch and open the shades to let in the dim morning light. Price turned back and gave Connor a grin.
"Today's the day," he grinned.
Connor nodded and smiled. "Today's the day."
"I hope you ended up getting enough sleep," Price said. "Depending on how set up goes, this'll be a long day."
Connor climbed out of bed and moved to his dresser. "The stage was built yesterday, which was easy enough," he sifted through his drawers to find a clean shirt, "Our job for the day is to set up all the seats and make sure everyone is rehearsed and ready to go."
"Wouldn't want anyone making a fool of themselves," Price laughed.
Connor shook his head. "We wouldn't laugh at them anyways."
"Of course not, of course not." Price stepped towards the door. He turned the knob to open it, then looked back at Connor once with a grin. "Maybe we'll be tired enough that there won't be any nightmares."
That's the only reason he comes, after all. Connor clenched his jaw, then beamed back at him. "If I'm lucky."
Connor waited until Price was out the room to get dressed. Set up would only be the beginning.
Kevin walked outside and off to the center of the village where the stage was being set. A couple of weeks ago, during a lull in morale and energy, the missionaries and villagers sat down together to brainstorm something, anything, to get people excited again. They considered holding a fair, a bake sale, or a second pageant, but all three were shot down due to lack of resources, tender memories, or disinterest. Eventually they found themselves discussing on the idea of a concert, since all of them seemed to share a fondness for singing and performing. Some of them kept their selections a secret, either for personal reasons or as a potential surprise, others declared their acts immediately when they settled on a concert.
They wrote invitations to nearby villages and towns. Everyone rehearsed in private, since no one wanted any part of it to be spoiled. Nabulungi managed to convince Arnold to sing a duet with her. Missionaries and villagers not comfortable singing alone opted instead to play backup for participants. The project found its feet quickly.
Kevin found Mutumbo tuning his guitar, a makeshift acoustic lovingly fashioned from local materials. They greeted each other with a smile as Kevin sat down in the grass in front of him. Mutumbo strummed through the chord progression of some silly pop song from the nineties Kevin had grown up singing.
"Care to practice, Kevin?" Mutumbo asked.
"Of course."
"We found this piano in Kampala yesterday," Mafala explained, gesturing to the dusty but sturdy instrument perched down center stage. "It is in tune enough to be used, hopefully."
"Thank you for all you've done, Elder Hatimbi," Connor said. He sat down on the bench and played a short scale. "And it sounds just fine."
He wiped his palms on his trousers and thoughtfully fingered the first measures of his performance.
Hours passed swiftly as the village went about rehearsal and set up. Once the sun set, fairy lights of every shape, size, and color were turned on, giving the space a soft glow. Locals from nearby towns streamed in at their invited time and were welcomed to have a seat where they pleased. Asmeret had taken the duties of the master of ceremonies, and greeted the audience with a grin and a funny but succinct opening monologue. She introduced Arnold and Nabulungi as the first performers, then sashayed out of the lights.
Connor listened to each performer from a wooden crate behind the stage curtains. He smiled at Arnold's ascending confidence throughout his duet with Naba, laughed at Asmeret's jokes, and wished everyone going on that passed him good luck, or gave compliments to the ones who finished. He felt his stomach clench when Mafala approached him, gesturing towards the stairs that it was his turn.
Connor nodded and rose from his seat. He took one deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and stepped up onto the stage.
McKinley walked across the makeshift stage to their thrifted piano and sat down in front of it unceremoniously. He paused for a moment, positioned his hands, and began to play.
Kevin had no idea McKinley could play the piano. Granted, there weren't very many instruments readily available where they'd been for the past year, but he'd never thought to ask McKinley if he had any hobbies or interests. McKinley always asked him.
As soon as McKinley began singing, Kevin felt struck with a sudden moment of clarity. There was a tone to McKinley's voice Kevin felt himself leaning forward to hear more of.
Turn down the lights
Turn down the bed
Turn down these voices
Inside my head
McKinley's playing was full and reverent, and his singing was so vulnerable Kevin felt himself ache. He sat back in his seat and felt his lips part. He glanced at Nabulungi beside him, who only responded with a pointed look.
Lay down with me
Tell me no lies
Just hold me close
Don't patronize
"Me," Kevin murmured. "He's singing about me."
McKinley carried into the chorus with pain in his voice only audible to Kevin. The audience around him was visibly moved, but as removed witnesses. Kevin was the one travailing with guilt; he was the one making McKinley feel like this.
I can't make you love me if you don't
You can't make your heart feel something it won't
Kevin rose from his seat to go find Mutumbo. He excused himself to Nabulungi, saying they needed to make an adjustment.
Connor walked away from the applause, out of the lights and everyone's sight, feeling both like he'd purged something toxic out of his system and that he'd been kicked in the stomach repeatedly. Nabulungi was the one who found him, sitting behind the stage staring down at his hands. She laid a motherly palm on his shoulder and smiled ever so slightly when he looked up at her with swollen eyes.
"You should come out and hear Kevin."
She took one of his hands in his and pulled him up from his seat. They walked silently around the stage area to the seats and sat down towards the back. He was knocked out of his haze so gently, he didn't notice her use of Elder Price's first name.
Mutumbo was a talented guitar player, there wasn't any doubt about that. He was perched to the right of center stage and had begun playing a few seconds after Connor and Nabulungi had sat down. Connor tried to focus on the familiar melody he was plucking out, rather than look at Price, perched straight and tall in the center, and refresh the nearly crippling, if a bit self-inflicted, heartache. Price's singing wasn't anything less than commonplace at their mission, making it easier for Connor to numb himself to the tender timbre of Price's voice.
When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I can offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love
It definitely wasn't what Kevin had rehearsed. Connor remembered hearing this song performed at a couple of weddings he'd attended as a child. The melody used to make him tear up, even when he was little, but as he grew older he was moved more by the lyrics. As Price entered the second verse, Connor felt struck with a sudden moment of clarity.
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love
Could it be? Connor tore his gaze from the stage to look at Nabulungi. She glanced at him and smiled, close-lipped and knowing. He felt his eyes burn and he stared back at Price, still singing with a wide smile and closed eyes.
...I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong
Connor's eyes flicked to the aisle, to Nabulungi, and back to the stage. Price's eyes opened to scan the crowd and, finding Connor, lingered.
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
As soon as Price crooned the last declarations, Connor stood straight up amid the fervent applause and headed for the stage. Nabulungi watched him disappear behind the structure, clapping all the while.
Kevin hadn't missed Connor's move from the crowd. He made himself stride casually off the platform, waving as he went, before dashing to the back and waiting. Connor could feel his heart pounding disturbingly close to his throat as he approached Kevin, who, when they were close enough for their eyes to meet, sped to meet him and pulled him into his arms before anything could be said.
The hand cradling the back of his head and the voice in his ear were the only things Connor felt capable of giving his attention to. Kevin was rambling and he knew it, but he continued to shell out apologies and words of affection. Connor managed to make occasional interjections about understanding and relief and reciprocity, all while holding Kevin tight enough to keep him from falling apart.
In years to come, they would remember only vaguely that their first kiss had transpired during that exchange, before they remembered where the were and who was around. The one clear memory they took back home with them from that evening was the elation in Connor's voice when he asked Kevin to sing to him again.