Best Musical Ever
“That was the best fucking musical ever!”
Randy was so excited he grabbed one of the light posts along their route, actually swinging himself about it, before ending up in a crouch at Danny’s feet. Leaping up, Randy snapped his fingers in imitation of the dancers they’d just watched, and began to sing. “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way…”
Danny followed his lead, snapping and singing for several feet, until Randy twirled, and then they were in perfect sync, singing about Jets and what it meant to be one.
The evening had been perfect. Danny had comped two tickets to West Side Story through someone at work, and whom else would he even consider taking but his best friend, Randy? Randy loved musicals as much as Danny did. They both knew all the words to such classics as West Side Story, Fiddler on the Roof, and Jesus Christ Superstar. How often had they taken different parts and acted them out, usually on the roof of the Chicago apartment building which they called home. It was flat and it was generally unoccupied—the perfect venue for two fledgling divas with more aspiration than voice.
“Oh, oh, ohmygod, the part where they see each other for the first time in the gym, and the lights dim down so that all you see is them as they walk toward each other,” Randy gushed. He suddenly stopped several feet ahead of Danny, poised in his invisible spotlight as he slowly walked toward him. “The most beautiful sound I ever heard,” he warbled, coming closer and closer to Danny. So close that Danny couldn’t help but stare helplessly into his gorgeous green eyes, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
He wanted to kiss Randy so bad he could taste it. But he didn’t dare.
Randy switched gears again, frenetically tearing at his dirty blond hair in his excitement. “Did you cry? I mean, seriously, dude, I did. The end. I mean, it’s so fucking sad. Why’s it have to be that way? Seriously?”
Danny smiled indulgently. “Because it’s Romeo and Juliet, that’s why, and that’s a tragedy. Can’t be helped.”
“Really? Ohhhhhh. I didn’t know. Guess that makes sense.”
They were passing by a bench which the city had installed for the benefit of bus riders; none were there at this moment. Danny leapt upon it, clasping his hands to his heart, as he began to recite. “Romeo, o Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, and if thou wilt not….”
“Be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Lamb…” Danny finished the line for him, and then blushed at his faux pas.
“Lamb? Silly, I think she said Capulet. You’re the Lamb.” Randy laughed.
“Yeah, right. My bad.” Except he’d envisioned this same scene too many times before, played out with himself and Randy. The difference was that it never ended in their deaths. And they didn’t have such horrible families. But those were minor points in comparison to the main one, which was that Randy had no idea how Danny felt about him. And Danny didn’t intend for him to find out.
Why ruin the perfect friendship with a little thing like love?
Randy held out his hand, almost imperiously. “Help me down, good sir,” he said, and Danny obeyed, although touching Randy was always perilous to his soul, and not only raised his blood pressure, but made his cock hard. Luckily, Randy’d never noticed, and probably never would.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, do you remember the wedding scene?” Randy gushed, alighting on the pavement, never relinquishing Danny’s hand.
“Romeo and Juliet?” Danny asked, confused.
“No, no, West Side Story. The pretend one. Where they talked about hands and hearts.” He stepped closer to Danny, so close that Danny could inhale the faint scent of his cologne, and he tried not to concentrate on how very desirable Randy was, and how very much he desired him.
“Make of our hands, one hand. Make of our hearts, one heart,” Randy sang, as they fell into a rhythmic step together step, performing an imaginary wedding march.
Give me strength, Danny intoned. It was even harder not to give in to his desires when Randy was parading around in the apartment they shared in his very skimpy briefs, twirling and dancing to this or that musical number. The boy seemed to live to dance, but it was very true too that Danny encouraged him, as he watched him gracefully move from room to room, gyrating, and leaping from one piece of furniture to another. Miraculously never falling or injuring himself.
At night, Danny pictured those dances, in the solitude of his room, while he masturbated to Randy’s face. Not that he’d ever admit to it, but it was true, God help him.
They were coming to the end of the block, then they’d be turning right and heading down to the station where they’d pick up the EL, take it back to their place. But Randy surprised him by turning them about, continuing the pseudo wedding march, as if he felt it was not complete and he needed more time with it.
Dammit Randy, why do I want you so badly?
The tortured Danny played along, humoring his best friend, listening to him sing, and joining in where he could remember the words. They reached the end of the song. Either it was time for another, or time to move on. Danny wondered which it would be.
It was neither.
Suddenly he found himself in the most intense liplock he’d ever experienced in his life. Unable to think, he melted into that touch, into those arms, lost in those green eyes.
What just happened?
"I was expecting you to kiss me weeks ago." Randy grinned at him when they drew back to breathe. “I couldn’t wait. You can go first next time.”
“I’ll remember that,” Randy promised, as he reached for those lips again.
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Until next time, take care!