RPF (music), Esa-Pekka Salonen/Gustavo Dudamel, passing the torch
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not purport to describe actual lives or relationships.
Gustavo is flushed, exhausted and high after an extraordinary concert. The soloist leans in and kisses him on the cheek again, then goes, her black dress swishing on the stairs. Gustavo turns to him, shakes his hand - again - and then laughs and hugs him. Sweat-soaked curls brush against his cheek and he breathes in a little sharply. He's still lost in the music, as is Gustavo, he can feel it in the way his fingers dance over his back. They're both hard as rock under their suits. Then the second violin comes by and a benefactor taps his shoulder and they're each pulled away to other greetings and conversations.
Later, after everyone has gone, they'll stand outside in the gardens, next to the silver domes and crests of Disney Hall and he'll kiss him, unmindful of stray security people. Kiss his soft mouth and those beautiful, talented fingers. Those fingers he still can't believe he's had on his skin.
He'll be traveling for a while, conducting and composing. He needs to get out of town for a bit to let his successor have a chance to establish himself without Salonen watching over him. He misses his orchestra already. It's this bright young face, though, that draws him, makes him wish he could stay, more than any of it. This amazing man. He wants to give him everything. And now he has. But it means saying goodbye.
Then in the spring he'll return and finish the concerto he's working on. He can already see him conducting it: hands flying, mouthing the notes like a lover.