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Geezer wasn't gay, no. He loved women, which was exactly what a man who was claiming not to be gay would say, but Geezer wasn't attracted to men, he just wasn't, never had been, never would. Unless, of course, there was a man with black hair, greenish eyes, and a penchant for guitar playing. And then, maybe, just maybe, Geezer would be attracted to him, to his rare laugh, to his smile.
And Geezer was hopelessly attracted to those hands.
Tony was handsome, he was smart, he was a mean fucking bastard when he was inclined to be so. He could play guitar like no one else, and Geezer, usually so antsy, could spend hours just sitting and watching him. Sometimes, Geezer was inclined to think that Tony wasn't human. And then the Cancer came and Geezer was reminded of how hopelessly human somebody so strong could be.
But Tony was a fighter, and somehow, despite the disease ravaging his bones, somehow still able to hold himself together while Geezer felt like falling apart at the mere sight of Tony. Of course, Tony had fought it off. But Geezer knew that no matter how strong somebody could be, Cancer was a brutal thing. He didn't allow himself to get his hopes up, not until a week had passed and Tony was still fine.
And that's when Tony was able to pick up the guitar again, greenish eyes shining, giving that smile that Geezer loved so much. And Geezer was content to just sit there, and listen quietly as Tony played.