It was the day Steve left. Their SUV was parked in the driveway, filled to the brim with almost everything they could possibly pack. They had mailed all of their furniture to the house in Oahu beforehand. Connor sat on the curb, and Steve joined him. They were quiet for a while, listening to Steve's parents loading yet more cardboard boxes into the trunk of the vehicle.

Connor glanced at Steve every so often, but couldn't bring himself to actually look at him—the dream still lingered beneath his eyelids. He could replay the visions every time he blinked. The sunset, the waves, Steve's eyes searching up and down Connor. The pounding of the sea still beat against his eardrums.

The constant undulations were interrupted briefly by a call from Steve's mother: "Five minutes, sweetie, and then we really have to go." His parents went back into the house, double-checking to make sure they didn't leave anything.

Steve looked at Connor. Connor hesitated, and then met his gaze with a tremble.

"Is this…goodbye?" he asked softly, scooting a couple of inches closer to envelop his friend in a side-hug which, to his secret delight, was returned with full enthusiasm.

"I hope not, buddy," Steve replied, and ruffled Connor's strawberry hair. His heart might have leaped right out of his chest, with the agitation it was experiencing. Connor laid his head on Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. Steve had taken a shower this morning. He smelled like coconuts and hibiscus—he smelled like last night.

"You'll keep in touch, won't you?"

"Of course I will! I'd never forget you, Con." Steve smiled.

Connor's eyes traveled up to Steve's face. "You promise?" He held out his pinky. Steve took it with a laugh and held it tight.

"I promise," he whispered. Connor's lips were tightly pursed to keep him from grinning, crying and laughing all at the same time. He escaped the pinky embrace and laced his fingers with Steve's, looking at their connected hands. But Steve shrugged slightly, his own hand limp, and pulled it away. Connor removed his head from its resting place and looked at Steve, confused.

"That's…a little weird, man." Steve said honestly, with an awkward chuckle.

At first the impact of the words froze Connor's insides, but then once they had sunk in, a shudder ran down his spine. Weird? He was just…

Oh. Right.

"Steve…" he said. When he leaned forward, Steve indicated with his body language that he wasn't interested in any physical contact at the moment. Connor pulled back and looked down. "I…I had a dream last night." He found that his throat was dry; he couldn't speak another word, so he just choked out "about you" in a whisper. Steve raised a single eyebrow.

"And? I had a dream we went to the mall last Thursday. What's the big deal?"

"Because…my dream was…kind of, you know…romantic…"

As soon as the word reached his ears, Steve recoiled with a slight look of horror. "What…what does that even mean?" he asked in disbelief.

"Don't look at me that way. I can't explain it!" Connor said defensively, raising his hands. "Well, we…uh…I guess we kind of did it." He tensed, waiting for the blow, but threw his hand over Steve's face when he began to protest and silenced him. The look in his friend's eyes was one of rage, growing more and more fervid with each word, and Connor combated it with a stern glare of his own.

It was time to tell the truth, time to stand up for his harbored feelings. Too long he'd tried to tell himself that they could only be friends. But he was in love with Steve Blade, and he wasn't going to let him fly off into paradise without knowing.

"We did it and we liked it," he whispered with an air of utter gravity.

Steve looked about ready to stand up and walk away. Then he stared at the street, frozen. Finally, he said: "You can't do this, Con. It's not right."

"I know it's not what they tell us is right, but doesn't it feel right?" Connor took Steve's hands in his own with a sweet smile and held them tight, so that there was no chance of escape.

"No, Connor. It doesn't feel right." He looked him in the eye. "We were meant to be friends, and only that. I don't care if it's what Heavenly Father wants or not—it's not what I want." He gave Connor's hands back to him and let go, standing up and ignoring the dejected look on Connor's face.

Tears welled up in the redhead's bright blue eyes, and he sprang to his feet to grab Steve's arm as he walked towards the SUV.

"What do you want?" Steve exclaimed suddenly, fed up and impatient. Connor loosened his hold, but then leaped into him, wrapping his arms around him in a squeeze.

"I want you to stay. Don't go," he said, softly and simply. "I wrote you a song. You still need to hear it."

"My flight's scheduled. I'm going."

"But"—Connor squeaked through sniffles—"I—l-love you."

He couldn't see Steve's eyes, but he felt from the softening in his posture that he wasn't the only one crying. Steve hugged him, and for a few seconds they stood, sobbing in each other's warm embrace. It was genuine emotion. Steve loved him too, in the way a brother or father would love. But not in the way Connor could ever ask for. When they broke apart, Steve rubbed his eyes and said with a sad tone: "I'm sorry the last time-we saw each other-had to be like this."

Connor began to protest, but Steve put a hand on his head, and continued. "Try to find help, and… it's been really awesome knowing you."

He smiled as best he could, but he couldn't hold it for long, and soon he found himself frowning as he entered the car. It was impossible to look into those azure eyes again, those eyes which had followed his every move for months. He hadn't noticed. Not at all. Still, out of his peripheral vision, he watched Connor collapse to his knees on the front lawn with a pleading, desperate look on his face. He had the words "I love you" still repeating over and over again on his lips, and when he lowered his head to the ground Steve could swear he felt a painful jab somewhere in his chest.

His parents got into the car, and looked back cheerfully at him as the engine started. Upon seeing his tearful state, his mother said sympathetically: "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. But you'll see your old friends when we get back home. There's nothing to be sad about."

Just when they were exiting the driveway, his father laughed. "You know, with all that huggin' and cryin' and stuff, if I didn't know better I'd think you two were a couple a' homos or somethin'." He waved to Connor as they drove past him.

Connor heard the voice through the open window, and raised his head to watch the car roll by. At the last minute, just before they turned the corner, Steve twisted back to get a good look at those blue eyes once more.

And once the car was long gone, and probably halfway to Hawaii, for all Connor cared, he curled up on the grass. Once night had fallen and the cold began to set in, he pulled his hood over his head and chattered his teeth around the name "Steve."

And he began to dream again.