Izzy

Connor McKinley could remember the day like it was yesterday. It was, in fact, 9 years ago when Father Stevens tore his life apart. Father Stevens, a professor at his school, had noticed the looks that Connor gave Steve Blade. He wasn’t happy. Connor had sat in the professor’s office, terrified and ashamed. He knew he was different, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. Father Stevens wasn’t angry, he was disappointed. That’s what he said, though he had seemed pretty angry to Connor. He told the nervous boy that he was lucky that no one else was being told, that he wouldn’t be cured by force. “I’m giving you this chance, Connor,” Father Stevens had said. “Sort this out now, and no one will know. If I ever notice anything like this again, you’ll be sent away for treatment.”

Connor hadn’t liked the sound of treatment, so he’d tried to control himself. “Turn it off,” he’d always say to himself, begging his mind to be quiet as he matured into a young adult. All his friends were having new thoughts and emotions towards girls, and Connor tried to replicate those. He was desperate to fit in, desperate to suppress his identity, and desperate to make it through his mission as a Mormon.

The time soon came, when Connor was 19 at last. He was sent off to Uganda with a group of other boys. Most of them were disappointed with the country they had received, they were all hoping for somewhere more similar to home. Connor, however, was delighted. He had finally escaped his parents and teachers and everyone else. He could be more honest here, with his housemates. Connor soon discovered that all of the missionaries were the same as him, broken and young and suppressed. He told them his mantra: turn it off, and after one long night filled with long-hidden emotion and unfamiliar tears, they all adopted his (unhealthy) coping method. It worked well, for 3 months. Then everything changed.

The new recruits walked into the house, tired and stressed. Connor’s eyes were drawn to the taller one immediately. He had beautiful, dark hair and eyes that Connor felt he could drown in. “Turn it off,” Connor pleaded with his mind. He put on a smile and greeted them both, before keeping a very professional mask on and discussing baptisms. Then he ruined it. Kevin said he was confused. Of course, Connor’s gaydar went off the scale. But no, he couldn’t allow this to happen. So he taught Kevin what he’d had to learn, ignoring the tiny glimmer of excitement dancing in his chest.

Kevin Price, the egotistical, narcissistic, cocky, adorable idiot managed to crush Connor’s glimmer of hope pretty quickly, first by declaring his lack of gay thoughts, then by grabbing Connor’s face, turning his glimmer into a heart attack, then turning away at the last minute and leaving him. Connor felt well and truly crushed, but he also felt alive in a way he hadn’t allowed hinself to feel for 9 long years. He had been reminded by Kevin what love felt like.

Of course, Kevin being Kevin, he and his companion, Arnold Cunningham, managed to completely mess up their mission and change an entire religion in a couple of days of being there. Connor was upset. He had disappointed everyone again, he would have to go back home and break the news. Back home, to suppression and misery and definitely no Kevin Price. Crushed and rejected, Connor led his fellow missionaries to the bus shelter. However, on the way, he was stopped by none other than Kevin Price, who looked oddly happy for once.

“Where are you going guys?” Kevin asked them.

“Home.” Connor attempted to push down the fluttering in his stomach that he felt whenever he looked at the beautiful Elder. Kevin looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time, and told him not to go. They didn’t have to leave. Connor could feel himself getting more and more excited, and after hearing Kevin Price swear, Connor didn’t even try to turn it off.

I literally just get used by everyone like people only talk to me when they have no one else and they feel sad and I’m like 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Really h e c k i n g alone