// my spine is the bassline //

// double-drabble: 200 words

//

A brilliant cacophony of sound all around him, and Chris moves to it, moves with it, winding his body through and around all the others surrounding him on the crowded dancefloor. Arms high above his head and he can feel the bassline tumbling along his spine, wrapping round him, holding him tight as wave after wave of green and scarlet and gold shimmer over the crowd which moves, surges together as one.

Chris sees him for a split-second, for barely a breath-- freeze-framed beneath the jitter-pulse of the strobe, outlined in jewel-coloured circles of light-- and then he's gone again just as suddenly, swallowed down within the swell of music. Chris waits and watches, his skin thrumming, his own heartbeat echoing hard and fast in his ears in the dim club. He waits for the next sweep of light to slice through the darkness, watches for the next slowblink to show him what he can still see even with his eyes closed.

Another wave of colour cuts through inky blackness, lighting his way toward the DJ booth, and this time it's pale and silvery-blue, iridescent and cool-- and a perfect mirror of the eyes he sees are watching him, too.

//

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