Bonnie18

1

Randal is sixteen, and he and Dante are sitting in the back row of the movie theater, hiding from anyone who might rat them out. They're still too young to watch this movie, but Brodie somehow managed to get Randal tickets to "Clownhouse", and so here they are with Dante, having snuck out from their parents, sitting on uncomfortable seats and watching the screen, barely breathing.

Dante stubbornly refused to go with him, saying he didn't want his parents to find out, and besides, the show was too late, and what if something happened to them outside. Randal gets tired of his boring excuses and just grabs his hand and pulls him toward the window in his room. He knows Dante really wants to go — he saw his eyes light up when Randal pulled the crumpled tickets out from under his shirt, proudly showing them off to his friend. Dante finally gives in and obediently climbs out the window after him. He's not really that hard to convince anyway, so in the end he always agrees to any of Randal's crazy adventures. Something about that makes a soft, warm knot settle in Randal's chest, pulsing every time Dante smiles. Randal prefers not to think about what that means.

Actually, Randal gets bored of the movie pretty quickly. He's not really a horror fan, and he only went because Dante really wanted to. The fire in his eyes and the stunned "where did you get this?" were worth Randal now lazily scanning the theater with his eyes.

He turns his gaze to Dante: he's sitting there, stretched into a tense line, not taking his eyes off the screen. He's so focused on what's happening on screen that it gives Randal the chance to look at Dante as much as he wants. Lately, he really likes looking at him. He's just starting to get dark little hairs on his chin and above his upper lip, his lashes curl up like a girl's, and his hair is a little longer than the other boys in their class. But Dante isn't an ordinary boy. He likes "Star Wars" and comic book stores, and he listens to the nonsense Randal spouts. Randal likes Dante.

Just as Randal decides he needs to think that last thought through in more detail, he notices Dante flinch beside him at a sharp sound, squeezing his eyes shut in fear. Randal wants to laugh at him because — a stupid horror movie about clowns, seriously? — but Dante looks scared, and Randal wants to comfort him. But how? Hell, he had no idea what people did in situations like this. Dante's not a girl or anything, so…

"Hey, you're shaking," Randal finally whispers, carefully touching his arm.

Dante practically jumps in his seat at his touch at first, and then suddenly grabs his hand and whispers:

"Hold me, please."

Randal thinks this is ridiculously silly, but for some reason he agrees anyway. Dante is still trembling next to him, and Randal starts gently stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. It's so strange. At some point, Dante leans into him and squeezes his fingers tighter, and Randal doesn't care about the movie anymore because he's paralyzed by the closeness of Dante's body and his hand in his own. Stupid thoughts start creeping into his head: like how they seem to be on a date right now — Dante playing the scared girl shaking with fear, and him playing the fearless boyfriend ready to comfort her at any moment.

Randal snorts — what nonsense! He tries to focus on the stupid clowns on the screen, but his thoughts keep drifting elsewhere. What do people usually do on movie dates, especially in the back row? They sure as hell don't watch the movie. A crazy thought suddenly crosses Randal's mind: what would it be like to kiss Dante? Just the mental image makes his insides twist, and something sharp and sweet stabs, then bursts right in his chest and trickles down into his stomach. Before he can figure out how he feels about it, Dante leans into him and whispers right in his ear:

"Randal, I need to leave."

They don't finish the movie. In the men's restroom, Dante is overtaken by panic and tears, and Randal comforts him, gently rubbing his forearm. He never imagined Dante could be this sensitive.

"Well, great, because of you we missed the ending," he grumbles, handing Dante another tissue.

Not that he gives a damn about the stupid ending. He's glad they left, and that Dante distracted him from those strange, frightening desires. He's not sure he's ready to deal with that right now.

2

Randal is twenty, and he regrets agreeing to this. Dante begged him to come, and honestly? Randal couldn't say no. But now, sitting in this stupid back row, he's cursing himself for that decision.

Damn Caitlin Bree. Damn Dante's date with that bitch. And damn Randal-third-wheel-Graves. And what the hell made Dante think this was a good idea? He knew Randal hated her, and his argument "it's been two years since prom, you guys should get along" was just a stupid cover for his unresolved dilemma of "who should I spend tonight with". God damn it, Randal had seriously hoped that bitch was done with. He still remembers how after she cheated on him yet again, Dante sobbed in his room and swore he'd never date Caitlin Bree again. Yeah, right.

She doesn't even live in Jersey anymore. She's back for the holidays to visit her parents from college, and Dante immediately fell back into her trap. He follows her around like a lost puppy and talks to her on the phone all day, breaking the long-standing tradition he and Randal had. And Caitlin keeps throwing those sharp cat-like glances at him, smirking smugly. Like she knows. Knows how desperately he wants to be in her place. To have rights to Dante. To touch him. To kiss him. She seems to say with just her eyes, "he's mine." No, bitch, he's not yours.

He was mine first.

Randal clenches his jaw and crosses his arms, turning his gaze to the screen. It's some melodrama that Randal can't stand, but he forces himself to watch the couple on screen, just so he doesn't have to see what's happening next to him. He feels like a goddamn dog tagging along after an owner who couldn't care less about him. He hears rustling beside him, and Randal turns — and immediately regrets it.

Dante is kissing Caitlin Bree. Caitlin Bree is kissing Dante. He feels physically sick at the sight, like all the air has been knocked out of him. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. He tries to focus on the characters' dialogue, but his brain keeps dragging him back to the sounds of kissing next to him.

He watches them, unable to look away. Dante looks so absorbed in it that it makes him nauseous. Randal envies that bitch. He always has. He wishes he hadn't agreed. He wishes he were alone reading the latest comic issue, or had gone to Big Choice and picked out something better than this romantic crap. He wishes he and Dante had stayed in his room together, or gone for a walk and had some soda.

He wishes he didn't have to see Caitlin's smug look from under her lashes as she looks right at him while kissing Dante.

That's the last straw.

Randal abruptly stands up and heads for the exit, ignoring Dante's distracted call of "Randal, where are you going?" He needs to get out of here. Now.

3

Randal is twenty-nine, and somehow they ended up at that infamous gay disaster called "Bluntman and Chronic". He buys them salted popcorn (sweet stuff makes his teeth hurt) and grumbles through almost the entire screening. Dante shushes him in annoyance when other people start turning around, but honestly? Randal doesn't give a shit. He doesn't care what anyone else thinks, what the idiots in spandex on screen are blabbering about, or why the ticket to this crap was so expensive. All he cares about is how warm Dante's skin feels through his shirt when he presses his shoulder against him, how their fingers brush over the popcorn bucket — just barely, just for a second — but it's enough for Randal to feel an electric shock that sends hundreds of ticklish sparks down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He likes to think they're just tired after their shift and decided to have a little date (although going to a movie about two stoners who've been hanging around them for a good ten years isn't exactly romantic, but who cares). It's so easy to imagine reaching out, placing his hand on Dante's cheek, and pulling him closer. Dante would drop the popcorn, complain about the armrests getting in the way, and say "Randal! There are people here!" but he'd still kiss him back, trying to grab the short hairs on the back of his neck under the brim of his ever-present hat. And his lips would be a little salty from the popcorn, but so sweet — God, Randal is sure they'd be unbelievably sweet — that he wouldn't be able to pull away.

"...dal. Randal!"

Dante shakes him by the shoulder, and Randal blinks a few times, shaking off the sweet haze of the daydream. The credits are rolling on screen, and the theater is almost empty. Dante shoves the empty popcorn bucket into his hands, and Randal automatically runs his hand along the bottom, picking up the last few crumbs with his fingers and popping them into his mouth. He chews absently while Dante mumbles something about the movie and the plot, gesturing animatedly.

Randal isn't listening. He's thinking about how they'd go back home — to their apartment (not his depressing room at his parents' house) — and Randal would pin him against the wall right in the hallway and kiss him, because the theater wasn't enough. Dante would try to push him off ("Not in the hallway, Randal!"), but eventually he'd laugh when Randal started kissing his neck because it tickles, and then his laughter would turn into moans because Randal would hold him tighter and start pulling off his shirt, and Dante would squirm in his arms and…

"Are you even listening to me?" Dante turns abruptly, looking at him a little angrily. Randal would usually tease him about it, but not this time.

"What? Oh, yeah, man, sorry, I just…"

Dante waits, eyebrows raised, but Randal just waves it off:

"Never mind."

He needs to stop drifting off into dreams like that.

The kiss

Randal is thirty-eight, and he's not exactly complaining about his life. On the TV screen is his favorite "Return of the Jedi", which they've seen a million times, while he eats chips, sprawled out on the worn-out couch, and next to him, leaning against his shoulder, sits Dante Hicks — his coworker and, by extension, his best friend.

They just put Grace to bed (she was being fussy, so they were both exhausted trying to calm her down) and are now enjoying some well-deserved rest. Dante reaches for the remote with one hand, turning down the volume so as not to wake his daughter, and with the other reaches for the bag of chips. Randal could mess with him and make him go through a whole ordeal to get them, but he's not in the mood for jokes — they really are tired — so he just places the bag between them.

Dante shoves a chip into his mouth and mutters an unintelligible "thanks." For a few seconds, a pleasant silence settles between them, broken only by crunching and the characters' voices, and Randal almost dozes off, lulled by the sounds. Dante rests his head on his shoulder, and he drifts off into his usual daydreams. Of course, over twenty years later, he's made his peace with his situation, but every movie night with Dante brings back fantasies he can't resist. From fierce, unbearable desires, it's more of a habit now, a pleasant routine. It barely even hurts to think about it anymore, just leaves a soft smile on his lips.

"Randal," Dante suddenly stirs, lifting his head from his shoulder and turning toward him.

"Mmm?" Randal doesn't open his eyes, just nods to show he's listening.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

He opens his eyes and looks at him. Dante's eyes are blue-green in the dark, reflecting the flickers from the TV screen.

"For what?"

"Well, you know…" Dante laughs awkwardly and looks away, staring at the screen. Randal waits, not rushing him. Finally, Dante clears his throat and says: "For everything. Shit, when Becky left, everything just piled up. The kid, work, unpaid bills — I thought I was going crazy! But you're so good with Grace," — at this, he can't help but smile, and Randal catches himself smiling too. Four-year-old Grace has a bright laugh, a wide smile, and Dante's eyes. He loves those eyes so much. "And work. God, Randal, if it weren't for you, I'd be stuck at some stupid car wash in Florida right now!"

"And married to the woman with the biggest clit in all of Jersey," Randal jabs him jokingly with his elbow, and they both laugh. Randal notices that the little wrinkles around Dante's eyes don't fade anymore, staying as fine lines. And his temples are slowly turning gray. He's so beautiful.

The laughter fades, and Dante looks him in the eyes again. He suddenly places his warm hand on his knee and says:

"No, seriously, Randal. Thank you for being you."

Randal looks back at him and notices little dark spots starting to appear on Dante's irises. He feels his hand almost burning through the fabric of his sweatpants, hears the Ewoks fighting the Imperials in the background, and suddenly, none of it matters anymore. Randal thinks about the last twenty-two years he's spent side by side with this incredible man, who's looking at him with such warmth. He wants to believe there's something more in that look.

He covers Dante's hand with his own and watches his eyes first widen in surprise, then close as Randal slowly leans in closer. Dante's breath on his lips is warm and trembling, just like the hand beneath his, and when Randal finally kisses him, he feels twenty-two years of waiting finally stop tightening his thoughts into a prickly knot. Dante's lips tremble beneath his and part in response, and Randal can't hold back a satisfied moan when Dante reaches for the back of his head with his other hand and pulls him closer. It feels so good, so warm and pleasant — he strokes Dante's cheek with his fingertips and hears him sigh into the kiss, opening his mouth wider, letting Randal's tongue slide inside… This can't be real.

Randal pulls away and presses his forehead to Dante's, breathing heavily. He can't believe it was this easy. Dante's cheeks are red, his lashes trembling — oh, he could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

"I've always wanted to kiss you during a movie. For the last twenty-two years," Randal simply says, smiling.

"The last twenty… How many?" Dante breathes out, stunned, not knowing what expression to put on his face first, so his eyebrows go up and down ridiculously. Randal laughs.

"Remember when we saw "Clownhouse" in '88, and you got so scared that you cried in the men's restroom while I stood there handing you tissues? I thought to myself: damn, this idiot is so scared, I want to comfort him because he's too cute."

"Holy shit, Randal, and you remember that embarrassment? God," Dante covers his face with his hands and laughs bashfully, squeezing his eyes shut.

Randal grins and adds slyly:

"Oh, trust me, I remember way more embarrassing stories starring you."

"Oh, please, spare me," Dante jokingly shoves his shoulder, then suddenly goes quiet. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Oh, like I could. You were constantly chasing Caitlin, then Veronica showed up, then you started pining over that bitch again, then you went on dates with God knows who, then you got engaged to a woman with a huge clit, and then you had a fucking kid — when was I supposed to say anything?"

"Shit, you're right…" Dante finally concludes after a moment of silence, staring blankly at the screen. Then he looks back up at Randal: "God, we wasted so much time! What do I… How can I…"

"Oh, just kiss me again, dumbass, and let's finish watching goddamn Return of the Jedi."

it shines!!

progress pictures ;))

@the-murchanski-creature привет помнишь где-то неск месяцев назад я говорил что у меня незаконченный арт валяется с такой же фразой ахаха ну вот ЗАКОНЧИЛ ЕГО НАКОНЕЦ-ТО

It just starts at some point. Maybe Randal comes over to Dante's place, and then it gets too late to leave, so he stays the night and they decide it'll be cool to sleep in the same bed because they can talk all night and laugh. Besides, all friends have sleepovers, right? Dante gives Randal his old stretched-out t-shirt, but then quickly regrets it — for some reason, looking at Randal in his own clothes is almost unbearable. And Dante definitely shouldn't have known that Randal's pale shoulders are covered in freckles. This fact causes a sudden attack of tachycardia, although the night goes fine: they do laugh a lot and talk until almost three in the morning, occasionally shoving each other jokingly and stealing the blankets from each other. In the morning they wake up, drink coffee in the tiny old kitchen, and Randal leaves, accidentally taking Dante's t-shirt with him. This realization makes Dante's stomach tighten sweetly, but he blames it on the sour milk.

And then it happens a few more times, and Dante likes it when Randal stays with him and they talk all night long. But something's wrong. He doesn't understand why he feels this strange feeling in his chest every time they accidentally touch feet under the blanket, or when Randal's whisper sounds almost intimate in the warm darkness of his room (even if they're discussing stupid movies), or when the stretched-out t-shirt slips off his shoulder and reveals the scatter of freckles on his skin again. Damn freckles, they're almost driving Dante crazy.

And then one morning Dante wakes up in Randal's arms. Well, it's more like a warm cocoon of his arms and legs, and at first Dante lies still for a few seconds, afraid to breathe, paralyzed and enchanted by Randal's warm breath on his neck and the feeling of his steady heartbeat. He doesn't know how it happened: Randal must have done it unconsciously in his sleep, he thinks Randal warned him that he tosses and turns a lot, but he doesn't remember exactly... And before panic completely freezes his limbs in an icy grip, Dante manages to admit to himself that waking up in Randal's arms is unexpectedly very nice and warm. But at the same time it's SO embarrassing that Dante has to carefully untangle himself from his arms so as not to wake Randal, and almost run to the bathroom. He urgently needs to wash his face with cold water to put out the fire on his cheeks.

Then it happens a few more times, and Dante really likes waking up in Randal's arms (because it's warm, cozy and nice, and also Dante doesn't have a girlfriend), but he feels so awkward about it, and he doesn't understand what's going on... They're friends, right??? Then why does he blush every damn time, and what is this sweet feeling in his chest that always appears when in the mornings he feels Randal's warm body pressed against him from behind? He needs answers.

In the end, he decides to talk to Randal about it. It doesn't look easy either in theory or in practice, and Dante spends a good half a week agonizing and trying to figure out how to approach this conversation. Randal isn't the type to miss a chance to tease Dante about it, and anyway, it's not like they've ever talked about anything... like that. He's sure Randal doesn't even have a clue what Dante goes through every time he wakes up in his arms, because he slipped out of bed long before Randal opened his eyes.

Randal doesn't take it as anything serious. He looks confused, but only for a couple of seconds, and then he just shrugs and says something like: "Oh, sorry, man, I told you I move around a lot in my sleep. If it bothers you or it's... um... uncomfortable? I can keep an eye on it. No problem, buddy." Dante mumbles something in response, and they quickly drop the subject.

And... the next time Dante doesn't wake up in Randal's arms. No more limbs wrapped around his body, no more warm solidity of Randal's chest behind him, no more hot breath on his skin, and no more steady heartbeat at his side. He opens his eyes in disappointment and looks around: Randal is sleeping next to him, with his back to him, and Dante suddenly feels an inexplicable emptiness and cold.

And at first Dante tries to convince himself that everything is just fine. No more morning embarrassment; now he doesn't have to get up before Randal, afraid that he'll notice their awkward position; no more cold showers and burning cheeks. It seems like this is what he needed for a normal life. But in reality, he quickly starts missing those weird "accidental" hugs, and every night he desperately hopes that now Randal will toss and turn, and then turn around in his sleep and hug him, like he did every night before. But Randal doesn't... he doesn't do it anymore, and Dante starts slowly going crazy.

At some point he completely despairs. So much so that one night, when Randal is staying over, when they're already lying in bed in the dark (which hides his blushing cheeks), Dante, constantly flustered and stammering, asks Randal to hold him. He feels like he sounds like a pathetic, desperate chud and Randal will laugh at him. Not that he's wrong. Randal does smirk and doesn't stop teasing him, so Dante even gets offended and turns away from him, muttering under his breath, inwardly regretting ever bringing it up. But a second later he feels Randal press against him from behind, feels his arms wrap around his waist, feels the warmth spreading over his skin where Randal's chest touches his back, feels the familiar beat of his heart filling his entire being with a soothing metronome again. And he hears a mocking hum in his ear: "Oh, don't whine, Dante. I'm not going anywhere." And Dante feels SO calm in the warmth of Randal's arms, he MISSED this feeling so much that he almost groans from how good it is. He falls asleep almost instantly, exhausted from worrying and lulled by the beat of Randal's heart at his side and warm breath on the back of his head.

And it keeps happening every time Randal stays the night, only now it's not an accident. Not anymore. Now, every time the lights go out, Dante knows that Randal's warm body will press against him from behind, his nose will bury itself in his neck, his arms will wrap around his waist, and their legs will tangle under the blanket. Randal has cold ankles, but Dante is willing to warm him up as long as Randal holds him in his sleep. He's never felt better.

One day Randal gets sick and tells Dante over the phone in a hoarse voice that he won't be able to come. At first Dante is upset: today they were going to re-watch "Jaws" together and then order pizza, but in the end he decides not to make a big deal out of it. Either way, Randal will get better soon. However, in the evening, Dante realizes with horror that he overestimated himself: he CANNOT FALL ASLEEP. The pillow suddenly seems too hard, the blanket starts to itch, and the sheet heats up quickly from him constantly tossing and turning from side to side. The bed in general seems too spacious for one person, uncomfortable and cold, even though the room is quite warm. He tosses and turns all night and only falls asleep at dawn in a shallow, restless sleep. In the morning, dark circles under his eyes and a dissatisfied, almost martyr-like expression on his face in the bathroom mirror await him.

When Randal comes to see him the next time — recovered, but with a slightly red nose after being sick — Dante suppresses the overwhelming urge to squeeze him in a hug right on the doorstep with all his might. All day he can't wait for them to go to bed, feeling with his skin an acute need to touch his best friend. And as soon as the light goes out and Randal, with a familiar motion, pulls him to his chest, Dante turns around and hugs him back so tightly that Randal inhales in surprise, but then buries his nose in his neck. Dante mumbles: "I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep," and Randal smirks and laughs: "I knew you were a fucking sap, man". Dante is too happy to be offended, so he just says "shut up," to which Randal smiles again and starts rubbing his back. Dante falls asleep with a smile on his lips, knowing that tonight he will definitely get a good night's sleep.

Of course, it couldn't go on forever. Randal stays over too often, and Dante gets used to it too quickly. And everything has its consequences.

Probably one of those nights they're lying there, and Randal is hugging him again, but Dante can't sleep, and he knows Randal can't sleep either, because he's drawing warm circles with his finger on Dante's chest, right under his heart. It makes him feel very good, calm and cozy, but those obsessive thoughts start visiting him again. What are they to each other? What do all these nightly hugs mean, which started as an accident and then gradually became a necessity? Dante constantly feels some strange, itching under his skin need to do something with Randal, but he doesn't know what exactly. From the thoughts that come into his head when he thinks about it, his cheeks start to burn.

He feels Randal shifting behind him, getting comfortable, and burying his cold nose in the place where his neck meets his shoulder — his hot breath tickles his skin, and it immediately breaks out in prickly goosebumps. He hugs Dante even tighter and whispers: "Can't sleep?" Dante nods, knowing that in the dark Randal will feel the movement. They lie in silence for a while, but then Dante can't stand the hanging (weak, but relentless) tension in the air and turns around in the embrace. They almost bump noses, look at each other for a few seconds (it's dark around, but Dante sees how the blue light from the window softly highlights Randal's cheekbones and how his suddenly close eyes sparkle), and Dante starts: "Randal, I...", but Randal interrupts him: "Don't say anything," leans in and kisses him.

Feeling Randal's dry and warm lips on his own, Dante instantly understands that this is better than all the hugs and better than all those nights combined. He moans helplessly into his mouth (almost sure he looks pathetic from the outside) and immediately responds to Randal, kissing him back. Randal grabs his face, digs his fingers into his cheeks, as if Dante might go somewhere (as if he COULD, even if he really wanted to; Dante doesn't want to tho) and pulls him closer. Randal tastes like the warm milk he drank before bed, and like home. He suddenly slides his big warm palms under his shirt and strokes the bare skin of his back, and Dante, breathless from incredible pleasure, desperately wanting to be even closer, throws his leg over his hip, so that they completely merge, fuse into some kind of single whole, fit together like puzzle pieces, and Dante clearly feels that Randal was made for him: the curves of his body mirror the curves of Dante's body, and there is nothing better than finally feeling this complete, warm fusion with another person. Randal's hair under his fingers is so soft, and his lips under his own are so warm and responsive, and he sighs so sweetly into the kiss every time their bodies touch perfectly at a new hot point that Dante feels like any more and he won't be able to take it.

Then Randal, as if reading his thoughts, pulls away from his mouth and buries his face in his shoulder, pressing even closer and trying to catch his breath. He whispers in a breaking voice: "Dante, you have no idea how many nights I wanted to...", but he doesn't finish and almost feverishly leaves a few warm kisses on his neck and collarbones, and then more and more, as if he can't stop. A pleasant realization spreads through Dante's chest like hot syrup: it's because of him that Randal is so... so. Vulnerable. Needy. Insatiable. Although it was more Dante who couldn't sleep properly without those damn hugs. Who almost whined because the sheet next to him was empty and cold.

This memory, in contrast to the reality (where warm Randal is pressed against him and kissing his skin), fills his heart with such boundless tenderness that it threatens to spill over and leave wet tracks of tears on his cheeks. So Dante has no choice but to take Randal's face in his hands and kiss him deeply, and then start showering his entire face with wet kisses and leaving moist whispers on his flushed cheeks. "Me too" and "I missed you so much", and then a very quiet "I think I might love you".

And Randal, who had already started to melt under his passionate-tender assault, suddenly pulls back and looks into his eyes. Dante can't tell if there are warm glints of laughter there or if Randal is really asking seriously.

"You might?.."

Dante looks at him, at the despair and uncertainty at the bottom of his eyes, which Randal is trying with all his might to hide behind sarcasm and indifference, and understands that this really matters to Randal. He smiles softly and gives back the phrase Randal said earlier: "You're a fucking sap," and kisses him before Randal can start protesting. Then he pulls back, looks at him and suddenly exhales shyly: "No... not "might", you idiot, I do," and kisses his cheek.

Randal's face immediately transforms and blossoms into such a sincere smile that it almost glows in the dark. He quickly flips them over so that Dante is now drowning in the pillows, pinned to the mattress by warm Randal. Dante looks up at him and sees his eyes shining.

"I love you, Dante," Randal whispers, looking at him as if he's the most precious creature in the world, so that Dante's eyelashes get wet. Good thing Randal won't see in the dark that he's about to cry.