Marcus pulled him straight into the center of the swirling crowd.
The strobe lights cut through the dense fog of the club like jagged neon knives, pulsing in perfect synchronization with the four-on-the-floor kick drum. Julian stood at the edge of the linoleum dance floor, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized denim jacket. He was twenty years old, new to the city, and still wore his caution like a heavy winter coat in the middle of July. jimmy_somerville_you_make_me_feel
Then, the DJ cut the previous track. A fraction of a second of pure, anticipating silence hung in the air. It was shattered by a soaring, unmistakable falsetto. “You make me feel... mighty real...” Marcus pulled him straight into the center of