Pure and Sinful

Pure and Sinful

By: Spectrotica247

...

Summary:

Mason Benedict is a closeted gay teen in the Mormon community who will be doing missionary work with Phillip McCray, the son of the bishop and a hot athletic chick magnet, whom Mason secretly has a crush on. But soon they got a flat tire, and that's when their relationship escalated in a way Mason didn't expect.

Main Characters:

CONTENT WARNING!

This story is 18 and may involve themes of sexual intercourse between two male characters. If this story offends you, or if you live in an area where it is outlawed, or if you're under the legal age, then please do not read and click yourself out of this site, just to save yourself from a life of sin. This is supposed to be 100% fictional, any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. Thank you!

- Spectrotica247

Chapter One - "On a Mission"

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18-year-old Mason Benedict stared at his reflection in the mirror, combing his dark-brown hair into a neat, short medium flow that morning in early June. The sun's golden rays pierced through the blinds of his bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the meticulously packed suitcases and scriptures scattered across the carpeted floor. The excitement and anxiety of embarking on a two-year missionary journey for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints washed over him in waves. He had dreamt of this moment since he was a child, but now that it was here, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

The person he was about to leave behind was not a family member or a cherished friend, but rather the secret he had so carefully concealed within the confines of his soul—his sexuality.

The Mormon community of Pleasant Grove, Utah, where he had grown up, was not known for its acceptance of those who identified as LGBTQIA+, and Mason had learned from a young age to keep his feelings buried beneath a facade of piety.

The butterflies in Mason's stomach grew more persistent as he thought about his missionary companion, Phillip McCray.

Phillip was not just any Mormon boy from Pleasant Grove; he was the son of the town's revered bishop, a position that held immense respect and scrutiny. Known for his athletic prowess and magnetic charm, Phillip was the epitome of Mormon masculinity—tall, athletic, confident, and a natural leader. His icy blue eyes would gleam with the kind of conviction that made the girls in the ward swoon and the young men strive to follow in his footsteps.

Mason had long harbored a secret crush on Phillip, one that was as intense as it was forbidden. He had always envied the ease with which Phillip navigated the social waters of their insular community, while he treaded them with caution, fearful of capsizing his own precarious boat. The prospect of spending two years in such close proximity with his heart's unrequited desire was both thrilling but terrifying at the same time.

What if he slipped up?

What if his true self was discovered?

And if so, what if Phillip, with his strong family ties to the church, rejected him?

The very thought was enough to make his palms sweat, but he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of fate at being paired with someone who embodied everything he felt he could never be.

Mason adjusted his clean Mormon church shirt and blue tie, the fabric whispering against his skin as he moved. He paused, his hand hovering over the silver cufflinks, feeling the cool metal in his palm. They were a gift from his grandfather, who passed away a year ago. He fastened them with trembling fingers, hoping that the ritual would somehow anchor him in this tumultuous sea of doubt and desire.

"You can do this," he spoke to his reflection with a trembling voice, trying to convince himself that the next two years would be a chance for spiritual growth, not a prison sentence. "Just keep it together and follow the rules. Pretend it's just another day, another missionary meeting. Phillip is just another person I've been called to serve with, to share the gospel with. We're just two guys on a mission."

But the mirror just reflected his fear, the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his jaw betraying the bravado of his words.

Mason's face dropped to his cufflinks, the silver glinting under the morning sun's rays. He took a deep breath, the smell of mint toothpaste from brushing his teeth earlier lingers in his mouth, and forced a smile. "You're a Benedict," he whispered, the name a mantra of strength and duty. "You can handle anything."

But as he stared into his own eyes, he saw the flicker of doubt, the echo of the stolen glances he had cast at other boys in his congregation. The way his heart raced when they had laughed together, the heat that had bloomed in his cheeks when their eyes had met by accident. Those were the feelings he had been taught to bury, to ignore. And now, with the son of the town's bishop as his constant companion, it felt like trying to hold back a flood with a wall of paper.

Mason's relationship with Phillip had always been one of polite nods and awkward smiles from a distance. Despite being in the same ward and attending the same school, their paths rarely crossed outside of religious gatherings. Phillip moved in the upper echelons of the Mormon social sphere, while Mason hovered in the shadows, a silent observer of the lives that seemed so perfect from afar. They had never had a real conversation, let alone shared any personal moments, and Mason had convinced himself that Phillip was as straight as the Mormon doctrine they both followed. It was easier to believe in the unattainable, to maintain the illusion that his feelings were just a fleeting phase, a trial to overcome in his quest for divine favor.

The brunet's ears perked up at the sound of an RV's engine rumbling outside. The door to the vehicle slammed shut, followed by the crunch of gravel underfoot. He quickly composed himself, tucking in his shirt and smoothing his tie before heading over to the window. Peering through the slit in the blinds, he watched as Phillip's tall frame emerged from the RV.

Huh? What's with the RV? Mason wondered. He knew that missionaries typically traveled in pairs, but the idea of sharing such a small space with someone he barely knew—and had such a complex history with—was unsettling. He had imagined a more structured environment, one that would offer the safety of routine and the anonymity of a dorm-style living. An RV meant no escape, no private space to grapple with his thoughts and feelings.

The question about the RV will come later, because Mason couldn't help but admire Phillip's impeccable style, even in their standard-issue missionary attire—his golden quiff perfectly styled, his broad shoulders filling out the navy suit jacket as if tailored for him. The stark white shirt and tie contrasted sharply with his tanned skin, making him look more like a model for a religious magazine than a missionary.

He watched Phillip greet his father with a firm handshake and a charming smile, the kind that could win over a room full of skeptics. The sight was so surreal, like watching a celebrity step into his own backyard.

Mason's chest tightened as he stepped away from the window, the image of Phillip's easy confidence burned into his mind. He knew he needed to gather his thoughts and strength before facing the day ahead. He returned to the table where his scriptures lay open. He took a deep breath and knelt, his knees pressing into the plush carpet, his eyes closed tightly.

"Heavenly Father," he began, his voice shaking, "I come unto thee today with a heart full of fear and doubt. I ask for thy guidance as I embark on this mission, to help me to be a worthy servant in thy eyes. Please help me to keep my thoughts pure and my faith strong."

The words spilled out in a rush, a desperate plea for protection against the storm he felt brewing inside. His mind swirled with images of Phillip, their future together, and the secret that threatened to consume him. He paused, his hands clasped together so tightly.

"And if it be thy will," the 18-year-old continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "please help Phillip and me to serve together without... without complications. Help us to be an example to others, to bring souls unto thee. In the name of thy son, Jesus Christ, Amen."

When he opened his eyes and stood up, the fear was still there, but now it was tempered by a steely resolve. He would not fail in his mission; he would not betray his faith or his family. He would be the exemplar of righteousness that everyone expected him to be, no matter the cost of his own heart.

Mason's mother gently knocked on the door before pushing it open with a warm smile. "Mason, dear," she called softly, "Phillip's here, and breakfast is ready. Your father wants to say a blessing before you two leave."

Her voice brought him back to the present with a jolt. He took one last look at the open scriptures, a silent promise to find peace in the words that had been his solace for so long, and then turned to face the day. "Okay, Mom. I'll be right there," he responded, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts.

As he smoothed his hair once more and took a deep breath to compose himself, Mason couldn't help but wonder how the next two years would unfold. Would they be a time of spiritual growth and service as he had always dreamed, or would they be a trial of his deepest secrets and desires? Only time would tell.

Mason grabbed his suitcases, closed his bedroom door, then headed downstairs. As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he was greeted by the warm aroma of eggs and pancakes wafting from the kitchen. His parents and younger siblings were already seated around the table, their faces beaming with excitement and anticipation. Phillip was there, too, looking as composed as ever, his blue eyes meeting Mason's green eyes with a nod of acknowledgment.

Mason's strict father, Mr. Benedict, called out to him from the kitchen, his deep voice echoing through the hallway. "Mason, come here and greet your missionary companion properly," he instructed with a firm nod in Phillip's direction. Mason felt a knot form in his stomach as he approached Phillip, who was leaning against the counter, his arms folded across his chest.

"Hi, Phillip," Mason managed to say, his voice barely above a murmur.

The blonde's eyes lit up with a mischievous spark, and a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Mason," he greeted back, "Ready to hit the road and spread the good word?"

Their hands clasped in a firm shake that felt more like a challenge than a friendly gesture. Mason's palms were sweaty, and he feared Phillip would notice his trembling grip. But Phillip just gave a gentle squeeze and a knowing wink that sent a shiver down Mason's spine.

"Don't worry," he said in a low, comforting tone, "We're gonna knock 'em dead out there."

The humorous confidence in Phillip's voice was contagious, and despite the anxiety bubbling inside, Mason couldn't help but smile. For a moment, the weight of his secret felt a little lighter, and he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Phillip's friendship. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of a journey that would challenge his faith, his identity, and his understanding of love itself.

Mason took his seat at the crowded table, feeling the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder as Mr. Benedict began the morning prayers. His words were strong and sure, resonating with the deep conviction that had guided the Benedict family for generations. As they bowed their heads and folded their hands, Mason felt a strange mix of comfort and fear—comfort from the familiar ritual and fear of the unknown journey ahead.

"Dear Heavenly Father," Mr. Benedict prayed, "We ask thee to bless our son Mason as he embarks on his missionary service. Strengthen him in his resolve to serve thee and spread thy gospel. Watch over him and his companion, Elder McCray, as they go forth to proclaim thy word and bring souls unto thee."

Mason felt Phillip's hand squeeze his shoulder briefly, the pressure grounding him in the present moment. He closed his eyes tightly, the touch seeping into his soul. The prayer continued, asking for protection, guidance, and success in their missionary work. But all Mason could think about was the silent promise he had made in his own prayer—to keep his feelings in check, to not let his attraction to Phillip distract him from his divine calling.

As the 'Amen' was spoken, the room was filled with the gentle sounds of plates being served and silverware clinking against china. Mason picked up his fork, ready to face the feast laid before him, both metaphorically and literally, unsure of what lay ahead but determined to honor his faith and family.

Mr. Benedict cleared his throat and leaned in, his gaze fixed on Phillip. "Elder McCray," he began, his voice a blend of respect and solemnity, "I know your father, the bishop, speaks highly of your dedication and spiritual maturity. I trust that you will be a strong influence on Mason during your mission together."

Phillip's smirk faded, and he nodded solemnly. "I will do my best to uphold the trust placed in me, Brother Benedict," he replied, his voice earnest. "We are here to serve the Lord and bring joy to His children."

"Indeed, you both will," Mrs. Benedict chimed in, her eyes shining with pride. "You're both such fine young men, and I have no doubt you'll make a great team. Remember, Mason," she said, turning to her son, "you are a light unto the world, and it's your duty to let that light shine through your words and actions."

Mason felt a warmth spread through his chest at his mother's encouraging words. He took a bite of the fluffy pancake on his plate, the sweetness of the syrup and the buttery goodness momentarily distracting him from his nerves. He glanced at Phillip, who was already tucking into his meal with gusto, and wondered if he could ever truly be that light.

"I've heard you're quite the athlete, Phillip," Mrs. Benedict said, passing him the plate of eggs. "Soccer, right?"

Phillip chuckled, his icy blue eyes lighted with good humor. "Yes, ma'am. I've had my fair share of kicks, but I've learned that sometimes, even the best players face a slammed door. It's all about how you rebound and keep pushing forward, you know?" He winked at Mason, who felt a blush creep up his neck.

The dining room burst into laughter, easing the tension around the table. The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of conversation and last-minute instructions. As they finished their meal, the reality of their impending departure grew more pronounced.

As the final bites of breakfast were swallowed and the plates cleared, the atmosphere grew heavy with emotion. Mason's mother, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, offered him a warm embrace, whispering a heartfelt "I love you" in his ear. His father's handshake was firm, his eyes holding a silent understanding that seemed to communicate both his pride and his concern. His little twin sisters, a tapestry of youthful exuberance and curiosity, huddled around, asking questions about the adventures that lay ahead and the people he would meet.

Finally, it was time. With his heart racing, Mason picked up his suitcases, feeling their weight symbolize the gravity of the mission ahead. Phillip took the lead, his broad frame seemingly unfazed by the emotional weight of the moment.

"Let's do this," Phillip said with a nod, his voice steady and reassuring.

Mason nodded back, the words sticking in his throat as he followed Phillip out of the house. The door clicked shut behind them, echoing like a final nail in the coffin of his former life. The RV was parked in the driveway, gleaming in the early morning light.

"Uh... is that our ride?" Mason asked, pointing at the RV as they approached it.

"Yeah," Phillip said with a grin. "It's not your typical missionary transport, I know. But the church decided to mix things up this year. We're going to be traveling in style—or at least in comfort. They figured it would be easier to move around in, especially since we're going to be covering a lot of ground."

Mason couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of an adventure, despite his anxieties. "It's pretty cool, actually," he admitted.

"Glad you think so," Phillip said as he opened the door to the RV. "It's got everything we need—our beds, a little kitchenette, and even a table for studying. It's like our home on wheels for the next two years."

The brown-haired young man climbed in, taking in the small but surprisingly well-appointed space. He couldn't ignore the fact that sharing such close quarters with Phillip would be a constant reminder of his secret crush. He took a deep breath and pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the excitement of the journey ahead.

"Alllright," Phillip pats his hand on Mason's shoulder, a signal of their imminent departure. "Ready to hit the road, Elder Benedict?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "Don't worry, I promise I won't break you."

Mason's heart skipped a beat at the casual touch of Phillip's hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat that traveled through his body at the contact. "I'm not that fragile," he said with a small smile, trying to match Phillip's lightness. Why is it him that has to be the one who made me feel like this? he thought. Just keep it together, Mason. This is for God, for your family, for everyone who believes in you.

The blond-haired missionary chuckled. "Good to know. We're gonna need some toughness out there. But remember," Phillip said, his expression turning serious, "you can always come to me if you need anything. I'm here for you, man."

The sincerity in Phillip's eyes was surprisingly comforting. Mason felt a knot loosen in his chest. "Thanks," he replied a little less shaky. "I'll keep that in mind."

With a final nod, they climbed into the front of the RV. Phillip took the driver's seat, his hand lingering on the gearshift as he turned to look at Mason. "Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride," he said with a wink. "In the words from the Mario bros: Let's-a go!" he exclaimed in a terrible Italian accent, revving the engine with a playful flourish.

Mason couldn't help but chuckle as he buckled his seat belt on the passenger's seat. He can tell that Phillip was just trying to lighten the mood, and it was working. He didn't know what the future held, but for the first time since receiving his mission call, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could handle it. And if not, at least he had Phillip by his side.

As the engine roared to life and the RV pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of his childhood home behind, Mason took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun fill his lungs. He didn't know what the next two years would bring, but he knew he would face it with a newfound resolve. He was ready to serve his God and community, even if it meant hiding a part of himself he hadn't yet learned to accept.

"So... where are we headed first?" Mason asked, trying to sound casual as he was watching the buildings and cars fly past them from his side window.

"Summer school programs," Phillip replied, his eyes never leaving the road. "Our mission president wants us to start at the high school. Lots of potential investigators there, and it's a great way to get our names out."

Mason's stomach flipped. "High school? Like, our old high school?"

"Yep," Phillip said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Back to the hallowed halls of Pleasant Grove High. But don't worry, it'll be different this time around. We're not there to take tests or win games, but to share the gospel."

"I thought we were supposed to start with the easy targets, like the elderly folks and the lonely widows." Mason tried to keep the tremble out of his voice, the image of his crush's handsome face surrounded by a sea of equally handsome jocks in reunion made him want to shrink in his seat.

"Ah, we'll get to those too," Phillip nonchalantly replies. "But I've got a buddy from my old soccer team, Raul, who's had a rough go of it lately. I think he could really use some spiritual guidance. Plus, if we can bring him into the fold, it'll show everyone that the gospel has something for everyone. It'll be like a domino effect."

Mason nodded, trying to keep his cool at the mention of high school and Phillip's old friends. "That sounds like a good place to start," he managed to say.

"Great," Phillip said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Raul's actually the reason I wanted to serve in Pleasant Grove. I know we're going to make a difference in his life."

The RV picked up speed, carrying the two 18-year-olds towards their first destination.

It wasn't long before Mason and Phillip arrived at their old high school, the sprawling red-brick building that had once been the stage for their adolescent triumphs and trials. The parking lot was a sea of unfamiliar faces, the echoes of their past now replaced by the chatter of a new generation. Mason felt his heart race as Phillip parked the RV in a space reserved for visitors. The sight of the school brought back a flood of memories, including the secret glances and stolen moments that had fueled his crush on Phillip.

As they climbed out of the vehicle, the reality of their mission and the precarious balance Mason would need to maintain grew even more stark. The school's bell tolled in the distance, a mournful reminder of the life he was leaving behind.

Phillip clapped him on the back, a gesture of camaraderie that sent a jolt of electricity through Mason's body. "Let's get to work," Phillip said, his eyes alight with purpose.

Mason took a deep breath and followed, stepping into the building with the weight of his secret and the hope of their shared mission weighing heavily upon him.

They wove through the hallways of Pleasant Grove High, past the lockers that had held so much drama and so many secrets during their high school days. The students parted like a river around the two young men in their suits and name tags, their curious glances bouncing off the shield of Phillip's confidence and Mason's forced stoicism. The walls were plastered with posters of smiling teens, their faces a blur of potential souls to save and potential reminders of his own struggle.

Mason scanned the crowded hallway, searching for the person Phillip had talked about. Then, he saw him—Raul Gonzalez, a muscular Hispanic jock with a rebellious streak. His hair, which used to be midnight black, was dyed dark red, styled in a spiked, faux hawk with low fade that screamed individuality amidst the school's sea of uniformity, and his brown hoodie and blue jeans were a comparison to their neat missionary attire. Diamond studs glinted in his ears, and a black leather strap from his belt hung loosely from his hoodie, giving him an edgy air that was undeniably intriguing.

Raul leaned against a locker, looking bored as he surveyed the passing students. The difference between Phillip's clean-cut Mormon charm and Raul's edgy, atheist persona was noticeable.

"There he is," Mason breathed, pointing at the Hispanic teen. Phillip smiled and walked straight up to him with the ease of a long-lost friend.

"Raul, buddy!" the blonde called out, a wide smile on his face. "Long time, no see!

Raul's gaze flicked up, and for a moment, his expression brightened before it fell back into its usual stoic mask. "McCray," he replied, his voice gruff. "What's up?"

Phillip clapped a hand on Raul's shoulder, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone with his athletic build. "I've got some good news, man. This is my missionary companion, Elder Mason Benedict. We're here to talk to you about something that could change your life," Phillip said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. Raul's eyed Mason skeptically, and Mason felt his own heart race as he offered a tentative smile.

"Hey, Raul," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Phillip tells me you've been through a rough patch. We're from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we're here to share a message that might help you out."

Raul's eyes narrowed, and he pushed off from the locker. "So you're doing this missionary thing with one of the Mormon boys from your church, huh?" he said to Phillip bluntly. "I don't do the whole religious thing,"

"I know it might not be your jam," Phillip said, his smile never wavering, "but just hear us out, okay? We promise it'll be worth your time."

Mason watched as the two friends stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them that he couldn't quite decipher. Finally, Raul sighed and nodded. "Fine, I'll bite. But make it quick, I've got places to be."

They followed Raul to an empty classroom, the door closing behind them with a muffled thud that seemed to echo the finality of their missionary conversation.

They pull up chairs to face each other, and Raul slouches back, the silver buckle of his belt peeked out from beneath his hoodie as it glinted in the fluorescent lights. "So, what's this all about?" he questioned, his arms were crossed but there's a curiosity in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Phillip looked at Mason and gave him a nod of encouragement. "You go first, Elder Benedict," he said, his voice a blend of confidence and challenge.

The brown-haired young man's stomach twisted into knots as he realized the gravity of the moment—his first real missionary opportunity. He took a deep breath, opening his scriptures to a page he had studied countless times in preparation for moments like these. His nature green eyes scanned the verses, seeking comfort and strength. "We're here to talk about the Book of Mormon," he began, his voice wavering slightly. "It's another testament of Jesus Christ, and it can bring peace and understanding to you."

The Hispanic redhead's expression grew skeptical, and Mason could see the challenge in his eyes. He stumbled the rest of his speech, and even though his heart was pounding so loud he was surprised neither both boys could hear it. "And we believe through the messages of love from Jesus Christ, it has helped millions of people find happiness and direction in their lives." he continued in a nervous tone, then looked to his right at Phillip for approval. His blonde-haired companion nodded, his smile never wavering and his eyes written with an unspoken encouragement.

"So let me get this straight," Raul said, raising an eyebrow. "This book of yours tells me no booze, no smoking, and no... uh, 'getting busy'?" He smirked, using a term that was a clear reference to sex but couched in a way that felt less confrontational.

Mason felt his cheeks flush as he nodded. "Yes, the teachings of the Church encourage us to live a life of cleanliness and virtue, which includes abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, and sexual relations outside of marriage between a man and a woman. But it's not about what we don't do. It's about what we do for others, for our community, and for ourselves."

Phillip leaned over and whispered to Mason with a hint of humor, "You're laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?"

Mason couldn't help but shoot him a glare, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck. He took a deep breath and tried to loosen his grip on the scriptures, reminding himself that their mission was about love and understanding, not judgment. "I'm just telling him what the church believes," he murmured back defensively.

"So, what do you think, Raul?" Phillip turns to his former fellow jock. "Ready to join the winning team?"

Raul snorted, shaking his head. "I'll pass," he said, "But I'll give you guys props for trying. It's gotta be really tough, you know, with all these... restrictions."

The words hit Mason like a slap, and he felt the room spin. "Restrictions?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Raul's eyes darted briefly to Phillip, and for a moment, there was a knowing look between them that Mason couldn't quite understand. "You know, the whole 'no fun allowed' club," Raul said, his tone light. "No drinking, no smoking, and definitely no... 'exploring'." He emphasized the word with a sly glance at Phillip that made Mason's heart skip a beat.

Phillip's cheeks reddened ever so slightly, and he coughed into his hand, looking away. His profile didn't go unnoticed by Mason; the tightening of his jaw and the way his hand gripped the edge of his chair. He couldn't help but wonder what was going through his companion's mind. Was there something about Phillip that Mason didn't know? Did Phillip feel the same way about the 'restrictions' that Raul had so bluntly pointed out? Or was he so deeply entrenched in his faith that he didn't see them as restrictions at all?

The bishop's son then clears his throat, but his smile returns to his face firmly in place. "Well, we're not here to sell you on a lifestyle, Raul," he said, his voice steady. "We're here to share a message that's meant to bring happiness and peace."

The Benedict teen swallowed hard, pushing down the storm of doubt that was rising within him. He cleared his throat also, trying to refocus on their mission. "And... it's not just about the rules, Raul," he said, his voice stronger than he felt. "It's about finding eternal happiness and a purpose that goes beyond our time here on earth."

Phillip leaned in, a humorous sparkle in his icy blue eyes. "Think of it this way," he said, winking at Raul. "It's like we're playing for the ultimate prize—eternal life with our families and our heavenly parents. And sure, it might mean passing on some fun now, but the payoff is huge, man. It's like turning down a candy bar today for a lifetime of all-you-can-eat ice cream tomorrow."

The tension in the room eased slightly as the Hispanic jock chuckled, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Ice cream, huh?" he said. "Well, I do love a good sundae."

The conversation turned to more personal topics, with Phillip sharing his own experiences of finding joy in the gospel despite life's challenges. Mason watched as his companion effortlessly wove in tales of faith and friendship, making the Mormon lifestyle seem less like a prison and more like a fraternity of kindred spirits.

Raul's expression softened, his posture less defensive as he listened intently. "I've gotta admit, you guys make it sound pretty sweet," he said, his eyes flickering between the two missionaries. "But I don't know if I'm ready to give up all that... stuff."

"We're not asking you to," Phillip said, his voice gentle. "We're just asking you to consider the possibility that there's more to life than what you're seeing right now."

Raul pushed his chair back, his grey Nike sneakers screeching against the linoleum floor, and stood up, his leather belt strap swinging against his hips as he did so. "Alright, I'll think about it," he said, his voice still holding a hint of skepticism. "But I gotta bounce. I've got a math test I actually care about passing."

Mason and Phillip exchanged a knowing glance as they rose to their feet. "We understand," Mason said with a small smile. "But if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you just want to hear more, you know where to find us."

"Yeah," Raul agreed, his eyes lingering on Phillip for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to Mason. "Thanks for the... pep talk, I guess." He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll catch you guys around."

As the door clicked shut behind Raul, Mason let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. "Well, that was... interesting," he murmured.

Phillip clapped him on the back, his touch surprisingly comforting. "You did great, man," he said. "Give it time. Sometimes the seeds we plant take a while to grow."

Mason nodded, trying to push down the doubt that was still niggling at him. "Yeah," he said. "Let's just hope the soil's not too rocky."

They approached the other students with renewed determination, their well-rehearsed speeches about the Book of Mormon and the path to salvation at the ready. However, the reception was mixed—some dismissed them with a wave, others listened with polite disinterest, and a few shot them looks of bewilderment. Yet, amidst the sea of indifference, there were a few curious souls who engaged in a dialogue with the missionaries. Mason's heart fluttered with each question, hoping that their words could provide the solace and guidance these individuals were seeking.

Soon, the bell rang by the end of lunch. Phillip and Mason gathered their materials, feeling both elated and drained. They had made some connections, but the weight of their mission still pressed heavily upon them.

"Not bad on your first day, huh?" Phillip slapped his brown-haired companion on the back as they exited the school.

Mason couldn't help but smile. "I guess not."

"Remember, we're here to plant seeds," the blonde reminded him. "Some will grow, some won't. That's just how it goes."

Mason nodded, trying to hold onto that kernel of wisdom as they climbed back into the RV. As the engine roared to life, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of anticipation for the unknown conversations and connections that lay ahead. But once they pulled away from the school, he couldn't shake the feeling that the greatest challenge of their mission was not the uninterested students but rather the unspoken truth that lurked between him and his companion. The secret that had the potential to either strengthen or shatter their friendship—his sexuality.

The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but as they drove through the sun-kissed streets of Pleasant Grove, Mason made a silent vow to remain steadfast in his faith and his resolve to keep his true self hidden. After all, this was not just a mission to spread the gospel; it was a mission to survive in a world that seemed to have no place for someone like him.

Mason was quiet during the ride from town, his eyes glued to the passing scenery of manicured lawns and towering maple trees, his mind racing with the events of the day. The interactions with Raul and the students had left him feeling exposed, the tightly wound coil of his secret threatening to unravel at any moment. The gentle hum of the RV's engine and the soft rock music playing from the radio served as a comforting backdrop to the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

He stole glances at Phillip, who was navigating the narrow streets with the ease of a seasoned driver, his profile a study in concentration and confidence. Mason couldn't help but wonder what Phillip really thought about the 'restrictions' that came with their faith, especially after their conversation with Raul.

Mason couldn't help but feel a pang of longing as he watched Phillip's strong hands grip the steering wheel. The way the sun kissed his blonde hair and highlighted the contours of his jaw made his heart race with a desire that felt as illicit as the very things his church had preached against.

As they approached the outskirts of Pleasant Grove, Phillip glanced over at Mason, noticing the younger boy's pensive expression. "You okay, Elder Benedict?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You've been pretty quiet since we left the school."

Mason's eyes snapped to Phillip, and he swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his voice a little too bright. "Just thinking..."

Phillip turns his attention back on the road. "You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here," he said with a promise. "We're in this together, and we're supposed to support each other through the good and the bad."

Mason nodded, feeling both relieved but trapped at the same time. He really wanted to explain to Phillip about his feelings for him, but worries about the risk. "Thanks, Elder McCray," he nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

The RV continued to glide through the landscape, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. Mason stared out the window, the scenery blurring as he wrestled with the weight of his secret. He knew that if he confided in Phillip, it would change everything. The easy camaraderie of their mission would be tainted by his confession, and he wasn't ready to face the potential rejection or judgment from the one person he had hoped to be close to on this journey.

What if Phillip was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear? the brown-haired 18-year-old thought. What if, when it comes down to it, he's just like everyone else? He is the bishop's son after all, what else would the outcome look like?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Phillip broke the silence. "You know, Mason, there's something about you that's... different," he began, his eyes never leaving the road. "You're not like the other guys in our ward."

Mason's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing. "What do you mean by that?" he asked tentatively, his voice barely audible over the drone of the engine.

Phillip glanced at him briefly before returning his gaze to the road. "You're more... introspective, I guess," he said, choosing his words carefully. "You're not always out there chasing the same things everyone else is."

The comment hung in the air like a question mark, and Mason felt the weight of his secret pressing down on him. Was Phillip referring to his feelings, or was he hinting at something deeper? He didn't dare to hope, but the curiosity was eating away at him. "What do you mean by that?" he repeated, his voice a little stronger this time.

Phillip sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, I know we're supposed to be all about the mission, but I've noticed you're not really into the whole... social scene. You don't talk about girls, you don't go out of your way to impress everyone. It's like you're searching for something more."

Mason's stomach flipped, the knot of his secret growing tighter. He took a deep breath and hoped his voice wouldn't betray him. "Yeah, you're right," he said, his eyes fixed on the passing landscape. "I just want to focus on God and our mission. That's what's truly important to me."

"That's admirable, Mason," Phillip said with a small smile, shifting in his seat. "but remember, it's okay to be human. Sometimes we gotta live a little, you know?"

Could Phillip possibly be hinting at his own rebellious thoughts? Or was he just being the supportive companion he had always been, unaware of the tumultuous sea of emotions roiling within Mason?

Mason's chest tightened, "What do you mean, 'live a little'?" he asked.

Phillip's smile grew a bit wider, his eyes still on the road. "Just that maybe we should loosen up, push the boundaries a bit. Experience the world. We're young, you know? We're not going to be on this earth forever. You've gotta taste the fruit to know if it's good or not, right?"

Mason swallowed hard, his throat dry as Sahara desert sand. "Phillip... what are you actually saying?"

"I'm just saying, maybe we should make this mission about more than just playing by the book," Phillip said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We should live a little too. This is not me suggesting we should throw caution to the wind, Mason. I'm suggesting that we should see what we've been missing out on."

Mason's thoughts swirled like a tornado, a maelstrom of confusion and longing. Was this Phillip's way of opening a door for him, a subtle invitation to share his true self? Or was it just wishful thinking? The RV's tired hummed along the asphalt as Mason searched for the right words to respond.

"But the mission—" he started, only to be cut off.

"The mission will still be there tomorrow, and the day after that. But we're here now, and we're alive." Phillip's eyes finally left the road, meeting Mason's gaze with a look that the brunette can tell is full of mischief, with an addition of something that sent an electric current through Mason's 18-year-old body. "You're not just a missionary, Mase, you're a person. And I…" he turns his attention back on the road again but places his hand on Mason's shoulder, which makes his brown-haired companion gasp on the inside. "I know we don't know each other much, but… I want to know the real you."

Mason's heart skipped a beat, the words 'real you' echoing in his head. Was Phillip hinting at his hidden sexuality? Or was he just being a good friend?

With the contact from Phillip's hand seeped through his shirt, the Benedict teen felt the words forming on his lips, ready to spill his secret and finally share the weight he'd been carrying alone for so long.

"Phillip," Mason began, his voice cracking.

But before he could say anything, the RV lurched suddenly, the sound piercing the air was a loud 'BANG'.

...