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elderxprice · 5 years ago

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(#bom10daychallenge - day 1 - I’m fine. Let me see your face.) Kevin lingers in the aircraft, toying with the strap of Arnold’s backpack, until he is all but ushered out.

“Take care of yourself,” the attendant says, clasping her hands behind her back. Her name is Emily. Kevin knows, because she told him when he could not stop throwing up on the ascent. She had kneeled in the aisle beside him, soothingly rubbed his back, and told him everything would be just fine. He made her promise, and in doing so made her a liar.

“Yeah,” Kevin says, offering her a tired smile. “Alright.”

He wishes things could have been different. If they had been, perhaps he would be coming home a hero and not an abject failure, earning piteous looks as he trudges through the airport. Not that he can blame anyone. Kevin knows he looks disgraceful, because that is how he feels: exhausted and filthy and full of regret. Still, he walks with his shoulders squared and head held high. He has to be brave; it’s all he can do.

The airport is a myriad of joyful reunions and tear-filled goodbyes. Missionaries being hugged by their mothers; children being hugged by their parents; friends reunited after years and years apart. Their love is almost palpable, and Kevin finds himself wishing he could reach out and touch it, for just a moment, to remember what that feels like. It’s been so long since his parents have hugged him and said they were proud. One year and a handful of days. The memory is blurred at its edges, yet as he steps onto the escalator it all comes rushing back in a bouquet of abstract flowers.

His mother’s favorite perfume.

A sob escapes his throat at the realization that he’s home. He’s home, and his mother is here. She came for him. They all did.

“Kevin!” His sister runs to him, tears streaming down her cheeks regardless that she’s smiling. Kevin drops Arnold’s backpack and meets her halfway, hugging Debbie so tightly her feet lift from the ground. “I missed you, Kevin.”

“I missed you, more. The most.” It’s the truth, because she is the only one who wrote him. “Gosh, you’re heavy.”

She laughs, legs wrapping around his waist so Kevin cannot put her down. “I’m ten, now,” she says, proud of that fact. “I’m not so little, anymore.”

“Boy, I’ll say,” he says, leaning back so he can see her. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

Debbie nods, but she grins as if she doesn’t care. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe his being here is enough; maybe it’s all that she wanted. The thought incites a genuine smile - his first in twenty-six hours.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his nose against his sister’s. “Let me say go say hi to everybody else, then we can hug again right after.”

The rest of his family, sans Jack, stand just a few feet away. They do not seem as excited to see him as Debbie had been, but his mother dabs at her eyes with a tissue and his father rests a hand on Kevin’s shoulder once they’re close enough to touch. It’s more than he could have hoped for. “It’s good to see you, son,” he says. Kevin isn’t sure he believes him. “Boys, isn’t it nice to see Kevin?”

At their father’s unsubtle encouragement, Ben and Sean move to hug him.

“You smell bad,” Sean says, pulling away with a scowl.

“He doesn’t smell that bad.” Ben hugs Kevin a second longer, as though to prove this point. “Just kind-of bad.”

Kevin sighs, ruffling Ben’s hair before turning towards his mother. She is still dabbing at her eyes as she motions for him to come closer. He’s really missed her. For all his father’s countless shortcomings, his mother far more than makes up for them. She loves him, Kevin knows. Even now.

“I’m real hungry,” he says, once her arms are wrapped around him. The cotton of her sweater is soft against the sunburn of his cheeks. “Mom.”

“Well, we’ll get you some food on the way home, how does that sound? There’s a lot to talk about, but it can wait until tomorrow. Can’t it, Michael?”

Kevin has never heard his mother refer to their father that way, before. It was always husband or honey or something equally nauseating, but never his name. It makes him a little bit nervous.

“We can’t go anywhere with him looking like this, Katherine.” His father sweeps a hand towards Kevin, putting him on display. People are staring. Kevin feels his throat constrict; “McDonald’s is fine,” he interrupts, earning a pointed look from his father. “Just for tonight.”

“…Just for tonight,” his mother agrees. “Just this once.”

His siblings look excited. Sean thanks him for smelling bad.

They were never allowed to eat McDonald’s, because it isn’t real food or good food or anything Heavenly Father would want them to put into their bodies. The only time Kevin ever got to, was when he had his license and could go without anyone knowing. He brought his sister the day before he left for the Missionary Training Center. They had strawberry milkshakes and french fries and sat on the hood of his car at the airport watching all the planes take off. It was something special they shared; a secret between them she could keep once Kevin was gone.

Kevin orders three double cheeseburgers, two large fries and a diet Coke. The family’s entire order comes to over fifty dollars, and their father has a conniption as he pulls back onto the highway; and while that normally would have provoked an apology out of Kevin, it’s hard to care once a piping hot bag of actual food is placed upon his lap. And, see, Kevin knew he was hungry; he just didn’t realize how much, until the first, salty fry touches his lips. “Oh, gosh,” he says, in an almost obscene euphoria, before stuffing a handful into his mouth. His siblings watch in amusement, laughing at his pitiful display. Kevin is happy to entertain them, so long as it means he can eat.

His parents, however, are not so entertained. Kevin can see the disapproval in his father’s eyes as he casts the occasional glance in the rearview mirror and hear it in his mother’s voice as she scolds him about his lack of manners.

“I bet you ate this crap all the time in Africa,” Ben says, lifting his chin as though he isn’t enjoying it just as much. “Dad says you probably did all kinds of awful stuff once you shut out the Lord.”

“Yeah,” Sean agrees, licking ketchup from his fingers. “Like sin with girls.”

“Boys!” Mrs. Price reaches behind her to gently slap Sean’s knee. “We aren’t going to talk about Kevin’s mission,” she scolds. “We discussed this.”

Kevin supposes he ought to be glad they don’t want to talk about it, or else he’d be sat in an Olive Garden somewhere, feeling like he has to when Kevin really, really does not want to. He especially does not want to sit across from his parents and talk about Arnold, or the way he loves him, or how he did sin – a lot. Nor does he want to talk about the General; or Kimbay’s husband; or AIDS; or watching his friends die; or starve; or about any of the countless other horrible things he’s been witness to over the past year and a half. Kevin does not even want to think about it.

The guilt of that realization weighs heavy on him, and the food turns sour in his stomach. His father pulls over, so he can throw up outside.

“Well, then,” his father frowns, rolling down the window once Kevin’s heaves have subsided. “Are you quite finished?”

Kevin wishes he was; but this is not going to go away, just because the food is out of his stomach. In fact, the guilt over having just wasted food on the side of the road sticks to his ribs and makes it hard to breathe.

Immediately upon returning home, his parents send him upstairs to clean up.

There is a letter on his pillow from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Kevin is not surprised by its presence, only by how it has already arrived. He told his parents he wanted to leave Uganda four days ago and has only been back for one hour. His parents must have personally picked it up. Kevin would not be surprised if his father helped write it.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Kevin stares at the letter for almost an hour. He knows the second he picks it up, this in-between will be over. Kevin will need to make a choice: to stay, or leave, the church.

It was easy to turn his back on this life in Uganda, because his parents weren’t there and his college wasn’t there and the reality he was living, is not the one he’s living now. His mother said she loved him; his sister hugged him; his dad put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. It made him happy. He wants to be happy. Kevin reaches for the letter.

“Dear Elder Price,” he frowns at the sound of that name. “The stake presidency is considering formal disciplinary action in your behalf, including the possibility of disfellowshipment or excommunication, because you are reported to have participated in conduct unbecoming a member of the church, namely apostacy. You are invited to attend this disciplinary council to give your response and, if you wish, to provide witnesses and other evidence in your behalf.”

The council date is set for the day after tomorrow. Kevin wonders what evidence he can scrounge up in that time, before realizing he is evidence enough. Kevin is not an apostate. Priesthood holders have a responsibility to become like Christ and love as He loves and serve as He serves and Kevin did that. All the evidence he needs, he wears as scars and cuts and angry bruises. It would be inappropriate, perhaps, to open his shirt in front of the stake president, but Kevin will if that’s what it takes to prove what he did was in Heavenly Father’s example; and not because he wants to stay in the church, necessarily, but because he knows in his heart he did nothing wrong. None of them did, and for some reason, he needs the church to see that. He wants them to.

“Kevin?” Debbie lingers in his doorway, hair braided in a crown around her head.

“Hey, you.” Kevin tucks the letter beneath his pillow; “Let me get changed, then you can come in, alright?”

She closes the door, and Kevin stands from the bed. He stretches. Everything hurts, deep into his bones. If he was still in Uganda, Kevin is almost certain Arnold would rub his shoulders and his neck and his back, without even asking for a thing in return. Arnold is selfless. Kevin is not.

Pulling open his dresser drawers, he notices there is not much left in them. One pair of temple garments, and a pair of sweats from high school with Provo down one leg, and Bulldogs down the other. It seems like his parents culled his room while he was gone, as though they were not expecting him to come home, or just weren’t going to let him.

Clothes on, Kevin opens the door for his sister, who is holding a blanket and pillows. “Mom said I could stay in here tonight, if it’s okay with you?”

“You know it is,” he says, motioning for the blanket. She hands it over, watching as Kevin folds it once and sets it on Jack’s bed. “You can take mine. Mom say’s you’ve been sleeping in it, anyway.”

Debbie almost looks embarrassed, like she wants to lie and deny it, but she is a good Mormon, Kevin remembers, which is probably why she doesn’t. Instead, she climbs onto Jack’s bed, curling up beside her brother.

“What was Africa like?” she asks.

“Awful.” Kevin presses a finger to her nose, and Debbie smiles. “Wonderful.”

Debbie nods, as though she understands or can tell he does not want to get into it, beyond that. “Dad said you look sick,” she says, in a whisper. Kevin imagines she must have overheard this conversation. “You’re not, are you?”

“No way,” he says, offering her a tired smile. “Just tired. Dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Debbie’s eyes widen then, and Kevin presses a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell him I said that, though, okay? Promise?”

“Promise.”

A comfortable silence falls over them, then, and Kevin lets his eyes slip shut. It’s weird, being in this house, again. It’s warm and familiar. Same walls, same windows, same family he left behind.

The only thing different, is Kevin. And it must be more apparent in the daylight, he thinks, because his mother gasps when she sees him the next morning. She is standing by the kitchen window, exactly where Kevin left her over a year ago, holding the same chipped mug of orange juice.

“…Mom?”

“I’m fine,” she responds, almost automatically. Kevin wonders who’s been asking her. “Oh, Kevin,” she breathes, when she finally gathers herself. “You look absolutely dreadful. Come here, let me see your face”

“Gee. Thanks, mom.” He bites his tongue as she touches her hand to his forehead. She must think he’s sick, like Debbie said, but in a physical way. She couldn’t be more wrong, but Kevin doesn’t have the heart to tell her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s true. I thought you said you were eating?”

“I was,” he admits, easing away from her worry. “Just - not a lot.”

“Clearly, Kevin!” She sighs, bringing a hand to her chest as she composes her thoughts. His mom looks older; more tired. “Thank God, Jack was called to Quebec.”

It is not just an expression when his mother says it. She means it, and Kevin finds he wants to mean it, too. Thank God, his brother is in Canada, and not some war-torn, impoverished, dangerous country. Thank God; thank God; thank God. He wonders if she thanked God when Kevin called to say he wanted to come home.

“Are you coming tomorrow?” Kevin asks, curious.

Mrs. Price shakes her head, turning back towards the window. “Your father’s bringing you,” she says, taking a sip of her juice. “He said it would be best if there weren’t any distractions.”

“You’re not a distraction, you’re my mom,” he points out, crossing his arms. “I want you there.”

“And we wanted you to succeed on your mission, Kevin,” she says, setting down her mug. “I just don’t understand what happened.” Mrs. Price turns back around, motioning for Kevin to come closer. He does, stepping right into her open arms. She smells like lavender soap. “But I need to trust that the Lord knows what He’s doing with you, and that He can accomplish it for your eternal good even though I can’t even begin to understand how He can do it, after all that’s happened. The stuff your Mission President told us, Kevin! I very nearly passed out. Your father had to hold me up.”

Kevin sighs, but does not doubt it. His mother has passed out for less; like when Ben came home from school with Saturday detention for kissing a girl behind the gym, during lunch. He was sixteen.

“It was one misstep, mom, and it wasn’t even mine. It was Elder Cunningham’s.” It feels weird placing sole blame on Arnold, like this, but Arnold isn’t here and Kevin is pretty sure he’d forgive him for it, anyway. “He thought he was doing the right thing, and you know what? He did, in the end. We really helped those people, mom. I really helped them.” Not enough, maybe, but the fact remains.

“I don’t doubt you think that, Kevin, but you’ve always been arrogant. Now, why don’t you help me make breakfast. I’m too upset to manage it on my own.”

After, regardless of the food that’s waiting for him downstairs, Kevin takes his time washing up. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and traces a finger from his bruises to his scrapes to his cuts. His body has become a roadmap of hard work and dedication, of pain and suffering, and of triumph – slight as it was. There are deep discolorations beneath both of his eyes, and dirt beneath his fingernails. He cannot get them clean, no matter how hard he tries; though, he must admit he doesn’t try much.

His mother will be displeased, he thinks, but so what? She already is, as is his father, who will probably want to talk before tomorrow. Kevin doesn’t want to talk.

What he wants, is to take a shower – and not a hot one, like he thought he might. In Uganda, he used to dream of them, but the second the bathroom fills with steam, he feels guilty. So, he turns it to freezing, instead; gets in, gets out, and feels better. He shaves, brushes his teeth, and pulls on his clothes without garments. Out of habit, he reaches for his name tag. It’s Elder Cunningham’s. Arnold’s. His best friend’s. His – everything.

It ends up in his pocket, the corner digging into his thigh while he sits at the table and pokes at his food. It’s nine-thirty. Three-thirty in Kampala. Arnold is probably digging in the dirt, planting crops, or laughing too loud or too much or…

Kevin wonders if Arnold misses him.

He hopes so.

#bom10daychallenge #bom10daychallenge - day one #bom #have it anyway #book of mormon #kevin price #headcanon

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my-hetero-side-just-won · 5 years ago

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Here’s my fic for the first day of the BoM 10 Day Challenge! (If you don’t know what that is, click here to see the original post: https://likealightsw1tch.tumblr.com/post/614961442871033856/bom10daychallenge)

So, I chose to use the line “I’m fine. Let me see your face.” I don’t really know about this fic. It is what it is. I hope you enjoy it! (Warning: mentions of self harm)

The Injury

“I’m fine. Let me see your face.” Kevin gently reached towards Connor, but Connor turned away.

Kevin frowned. Even in the darkness Kevin could tell something was wrong. Connor was avoiding eye contact and trying his hardest not to let Kevin see the dark, purple bruise on his left eye.

Connor repeated his original question. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Connor, just please let me see your face. What’s wrong?”

Connor swallowed. Gosh, he was an idiot. Why did he do this?

“I’m fine. I just slipped and hit my face on the ground.”

Connor cringed at his own lies. But he felt strange telling Kevin the origin story of the black eye.

“Can I see it?”

Connor sighed. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. Kevin was just going to keep insisting on seeing the injury, regardless of what Connor said.

Connor turned towards Kevin, allowing Kevin to get a good view of his eye.

“Oh my god, Connor, that looks really bad. Does it hurt?”

“Only a little, but it’s really fine. Are you fine Kevin?” Connor couldn’t help it. After what had happened earlier that night, he couldn’t help but feel Kevin was upset with him.

“I’m really alright, I don’t know why you keep asking. But I’m worried about you. How did a fall have this much impact?” Kevin carefully touched the bruise, causing Connor to wince.

“I was in a hurry when I slipped. My feet went out from under me and I fell straight on my face.” Connor looked down, hoping Kevin was believing his story.

“I don’t know, I’m not really buying this, Connor.”

Welp. Connor ran his hands through his hair.

“Fine. That’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

Connor put his head in his hands. He said, “Well, I just started spiraling a bit. I was laying down, about to go to sleep, when I started to panic. I thought about my family, myself, but the topic quickly changed to you. I began to think about how I’m not only holding you back but also...just making you uncomfortable and generally making your life worse. So, I stood up and walked to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. That’s when, well…”

Connor trailed off and Kevin put his hand on his boyfriend's thigh. “I’m so sorry, Con. This is so personal, we can drop the subject if you’d prefer. I just want to make you comfortable.”

Connor nodded. “That’s sweet Kevin. Thank you. But I feel I owe it to you to finish the story. Sorry if I sound like I’m just having a ‘pity party’ or—”

“It’s okay, Connor. You don’t need to apologize.”

“Thanks...well, I started by just telling the mirror the truth: you’re a bad person. You don’t deserve to be here. You’ve ruined the lives of many. You’re so annoying, it’s hard for people to like you. Then the thoughts got a little more physical. Nothing too bad, pinches, pulling at my skin, light slaps. But everything was okay. Just giving myself what I deserve, right?” Connor swallowed hard. He wanted to cry but felt he didn’t deserve to.

“Oh, Connor, I—“

“But then,” Connor continued, “I hit my face. It was just supposed to be a small harmless smack, but I guess I wasn’t really thinking when I delivered it because it gave me a black eye...I don’t know what I’m going to tell the other missionaries.”

Kevin looked his boyfriend in the eyes. “Connor. As much as this may not help at all, you’re not a bad person. You deserve to be here. You’ve ruined no one's life. You’re not annoying. And you don’t have to hurt yourself. You don’t have to at all. I’m so sorry I pressured you for this story, I had no idea.”

“It’s okay, Kevin. You were only trying to help and I appreciate it. But I do deserve to hurt myself. Just think about it, Kev.” Connor just felt numb. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and he wiped it, not even aware why he was crying at this point.

“You don’t. You really don’t. If you ever get into that mindset again, please know I’m here. I’m always here to talk, comfort, support, or give cuddles. Whatever it is you need. I love you and please let me know if I can help you.”

Connor smiled. His boyfriend wanted to help so bad, it was sweet.

“May I?” Connor gestured towards Kevin’s lap.

Kevin nodded and Connor laid down, looking straight ahead.

“Hey, Connor? Let me see your face?”

This time Connor turned, meeting eyes with Kevin.

“That’s my beautiful boyfriend.”

Connor blushed and shut his eyes, taking in his surroundings mentally. There really was no one like his boyfriend. No one could help him like Kevin. And he would thank Kevin every day for this.

#mcpriceley #book of mormon #bom10daychallenge #i kind of really hate the way this came out #oh well #hetero-side fics

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