#caspar1.

The music was ebbing through the crowd of bodies moving in time to it, and Angel’s head was titled back against the body at his back, letting himself enjoy the skin-on-skin feeling; the cut open tank he decided to wear did little to distract from hands sliding up his waist, gripping him hard around skinny ribs.  He opened his eyes while the song shifted into something louder and wordless, and he saw Caspar much closer to him than Caspar had been in days. He wasn’t sure why he kept looking, watching the music in his movement, torturing himself with the thought that the one good thing he had with another person ended so poorly, and would have regardless of how badly he had wanted it.  There was another moment before he couldn’t take it anymore, angel pushed himself away from the man behind him -- and only glimpsed enough to see a pretty face and a well trimmed beard, which he regarded with regret, almost wondering if he should choose stubble burn over the anger his ex inspired in him. He kept walking; his feet took him though the crowd without his mind’s consent, crunching solo cups beneath his feet and coming to a stop beside Caspar, alcohol and smoke in his system disguising the chill Caspar usually left in his chest. It took him a moment to figure out how to voice the thoughts floating around inside of him, and when he finally spoke, it felt like stepping off a cliff and his heart was racing. He wanted one night where he felt on top of the world instead of crushed beneath it.   “Dance with me.”   He said, over the music.   “aren’t you tired of feeling this way? One dance.”