Rush: Off-Broadway

[x-ricochet.livejournal.com]

As promised, Johnny takes Victor to a play. It is truly horrendous, but sparks conversation and a well-deserved ice cream run.



Vic and Johnny followed the rest of the small crowd as it filed out of the theater, neither one saying anything as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Vic jammed his hands in his pockets as they stood there awkwardly, trying to sort out his thoughts. The avant garde play had been long and strange and difficult to follow, and nothing at all like he'd hoped. He glanced at his roommate, not wanting to spoil his mood if he'd really enjoyed it. "So...What did you think?"

The white-haired teen hung close to his companion, dipping his hands into the pocket of his hoodie after shoving the bent playbill unceremoniously into his back pocket. He wasn't certain what to say. The last two and a half hours had left his mind bordering on numb with boredom and a general lack of understanding, but...Victor liked this stuff, right? So surely he could find something nice to say about it. And it was still better than being at the house and struggling through more awkward conversations and worse silences with Darren, wasn't it?

So...What did you think? The dreaded question came sooner than he'd expected and Johnny's blue eyes flicked over to his roommate. A thin smile plastered itself onto his lips. "It...well...it was interesting. And the costumes...and the lighting was...um..." He stopped himself from stumbling further into the non-sentence and replied instead, "...What did you think?"

Vic hesitated. "It was, um..." He glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot before rubbing at his eyes and continuing. "I thought it really kinda sucked," he admitted ruefully.

Johnny had to stifle a laugh immediately, the gesture he was only barely holding back the result of uncertain amusement and obvious relief. "Dude, it totally sucked," he managed to say quietly in agreement. The consequence of this occurred to him slowly and his features sobered gradually along with the realization. His friend had been looking forward to this, after all. "...Sorry this was kind of a bust, Vic."

Victor laughed at the expression on Johnny's face. "I'm just sorry we sat through the whole thing. God, I hope being a drama major doesn't mean having to be in plays like that." He shook his head, glancing at his roommate. "I think we need to scrub our brains out with ice cream or something."

"We should've made a run for it at intermission," Johnny agreed apologetically, though he was beginning to smile again, his spirits lifted by his roommate's. If Victor wasn't going to dwell on the terrible performance, he certainly wasn't. It just meant they'd have to pick out something better next time. "I think our brains deserve it, definitely. And good ice cream, at least, is one thing I do know how to find." He gestured with his head, starting to lead the way away from the theatre. "And don't worry. You'll do one or two awful shows tops," he teased, giving his friend a playful nudge as they stepped off the curb, starting down the block, "Then you'll develop a sense for them and keep your distance. And then we'll all come see you."

"Oh, come on!" Vic protested, laughing. "If I have to suffer, you have to suffer! Or...something. How about I just skip the crappy plays altogether and go straight to the good ones?"

"Fine, fine, I'll be there with roses," Johnny relented, fresh amusement on his face as he teased his companion, "For the crappy ones or the good ones." He ventured after a moment, "...It means a lot to you, right? The drama stuff?"

Vic ducked his head shyly, partly from the thought of Johnny showing up with roses and partly from his question. "Yeah, it does. It's..." He spread his hands, trying to find the words to explain. "Most of the time I'm okay with being green and spiky and all that. But...there are still some times when it totally sucks. None of that matters when I'm acting, though, you know?" He jammed his hands back in his pockets self-consciously. "It's not like I stop being green or anything. More that it doesn't matter anymore. Does that...make sense?"

Johnny listened intently, looking over at Victor as they walked, thoughtful and quiet in a way that seemed almost contrary to his nature. He nodded after a moment, "Yeah...Yeah, that makes sense. Your mutation is part of you, but it shouldn't have to define who you are all the time, right?" He batted a stray can on the sidewalk with one of his sneakers and watched it clatter along in front of them. In few paces, he would be in place to kick it again. "I think...the school's kind of like that too. Though, I guess that doesn't do much good once we leave, huh?"

Vic's foot darted out to kick the can before Johnny could, although he aimed it to come to a stop in front of his roommate. "Yeah, exactly." He shrugged. "You can't stay on the stage all the time, but you can enjoy it while you're there?"

The white-haired teen bobbed his head in agreement a second time, thinking this over in temporary silence. After a time he looked at Victor again, smiling somewhat hesitantly, "...Better get in here. That way you can have your time in both, right?" He fished the playbill out of his back pocket, adding lightly as he held it up, "And, bonus, you'll already know which director to avoid."

Vic snorted at that. "Good point. I'll have to remember his name. Which sucks, 'cause that means I won't be able to block this play completely from my memory." He sobered up as they continued to walk, passing the can between their feet idly. "Yeah, that was part of why I decided to come here. I'd love to get into NYU--if I'm good enough," he added hastily, doubt creeping into his voice.

"It would've continued to skulk about in your nightmares anyway," Johnny teased as they continued on, punting the unfortunate can. His companion's features sunk and he pursed his lips uncomfortably, about to ask if he was all right when Victor spoke again. "I bet you're really good," he offered once the reptilian teen had finished, "And you've still got two years to practice and get better if you're worried. I know some of the others were in a play just after I arrived in March. Maybe they could help you out."

"Thanks. I do kind of wish we had a drama department. Or at least a class." Vic shrugged. "But I think they're going to keep doing the joint theater thing, so that's good."

"Bad thing about going to a school with a student body of twenty, I guess," Johnny acknowledged after a moment of consideration, then grinned sheepishly, "Same sort of thing with athletics. Couldn't play sports in school because of my powers, can't play there because there aren't any." He gave his roommate an appreciative glance, adding, "'Cept for Frisbee, of course." He shot the can forward again and it dropped off the edge of the curb as it ended in front of them. "Still...maybe you can figure something out?"

"I hope so," Victor admitted. They were quiet for a moment before Vic spoke up again. "Of course, the alternative could be worse," he deadpanned. "We could be dressed in black bodysuits and bad makeup doing plays on the suffering of man or something."

Johnny's laughter was immediate. He hopped down from the curb as they reached it and glanced over at Victor, shaking his head and feigning a woeful expression that was in no way believable, "And you'd make me come to it too..."

Vic grinned. "With roses, as promised." Already he was feeling better, their laughter and the promise of ice cream shaking off the weird avant garde hangover the play had left. "This weekend's gonna be awesome, I can just tell," he announced, giving Johnny a playful nudge.