Cain didn’t say anything. He just bundled Casper up in his arms and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe, until it all got too much and he tore away just to press his face into Cain’s shoulder and shudder with all the shitty chaos of anger and self-loathing and suffocating apathy and how his heart beat so hard he couldn’t take it.

His body ached so fucking much and everything was so fucking cold.

“I’m sorry,” Casper croaked. The soft cotton against his mouth almost swallowed it. “I’m having a really bad time right now.”

Long fingers scratched through the back of his hair, just beneath the band of his beanie. The other hand pressed on the middle of his back, holding him close. “It’s alright. Come on, you should sleep, Cas. You look so tired...”

Well he was doing fucking great if strangers were telling him he needed to sleep. Not to mention the swerved breakdown. Enough of this. Casper pulled back and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Dry. He sniffed anyway. It felt like he should. Cain’s face was too sad to look at so he looked at the floor instead, stuck his hands in his pockets to hide how fucking bad they shook.

“Why don’t I come in for a bit? I can warm your food up for you and—”

Casper glanced up. Such earnestness in that face. Why did he care so much? How could anyone care that much? A wave of sadness lifted in his chest and Casper turned away. Why didn’t Jack care that much?

“No. You’re—you’re right. I need to ... sleep. You’re the one who said you have to get up in four hours anyway.”

No fall in his face to that denial. How ... refreshing. “Then I’ll see you again soon, Cas. You’ve got my number, right?”

“Yeah, I already blocked it in case you work out what my real one is.”

“You—Oh.” Cain rolled his eyes. Passing headlights flashed dazzling across his grin. “Brat. Well, in the case that you change your mind and unblock my number, I’ll see you next week.”

Next week. Already too long. Which was a stupid thing to think, so his head could fuck off with that. Casper scuffed his feet on the floor and looked out across the street. A drunk woman in a dirty tracksuit stumbled down the opposite side of the road. “Next week,” he said. “Sounds good.”

Cain’s shoe clicked against the paving slab. A step closer, but another past him, further away. “Goodbye then, Cas.”

“Cain?”

“Yes?”

Casper shifted, foot to foot, and slid his eyes back the other way. Reflected in the glass door, Cain had paused, a smile just visible in his murky features.

Don’t be an idiot, Casper. Just say bye. And fucking look at him.

“Can I—” Fuck’s sake. “Kiss me again, before—”

Ice cold lips stole his words. A breathtaking shock of electric. Breaking away—

Casper snarled his fingers through Cain’s hair and kissed him with all this stupid, sappy fuzzy whatever fluttering about inside him and making his heart fucking ache. Not that it made it go away. It just twisted in deeper, panting through his chest. Cain’s hands slipped under his hoodie and jumper and t-shirt and with his blood running so hot, the cold burnt. His hands felt so fucking gorgeous, long-fingers curled around his waist and the other sliding up his spine as he bent over him and plunged his tongue into his mouth.

So good. So, so fucking good. His heart was going to fucking give out but what did he fucking need it for with these lips that made his whole body scream alive.

By the time Cain broke away, Casper was on the verge of tears, and the desperate, searching need in Cain’s eyes as he held him close almost sent him over the edge. Just a second of their ragged breaths as they fell into each other’s eyes and Cain kissed him again, and Casper tumbled to the soft surrender.

No one had ever held him this gently and kissed him with so much aching passion in his life.

Not even close.

The next time he broke, Cain twisted his head away, buried his face against Casper’s throat. His breath panted like puffs of ice against his fever-hot skin, and at the very breathy edges, he moaned.

“Right—” Careful, slow, Cain slid his hands back from under Casper’s top and wrapped his arms around his waist just beneath the coat and squeezed— “Right—” A shiver, like he was trying to gather himself, like his mind was scattered to the wind right alongside Casper’s. A gap opened in the traffic, like for a moment they stood in a muffled bubble outside the world. Up above them, a polluted glow blotted out the stars but for once the stars were right here, spinning around his head just behind the veil of light.

So goddamn fucking right.

“Right—” A final time, and with far more certainty— “I’m going to let go and walk straight away because I swear if I look at you one more time, Cas, I’ll never let you go.”

A gasp broke Casper’s lips. No matter how cold he was, the way Cain held him ... safe, secure, the impression of warmth and all its comfort without the presence. So right that he could have been right here a million times before.

Casper’s voice trembled with feeling, a scratched whisper to the veil over the sky. “Don’t then.”

Another shudder. Mouth open with a gasp and slick against Casper’s throat. “I have to, Cas. I’ll tell you one day, I promise, but I can’t do this. Not tonight. I'm scared I really will never let you go if I stay tonight.”

What would he say if Casper told him he didn’t want to either? I just want you to warm up my food and help me tidy my room and lie down in bed with me with my t-shirt and boxers still on and just hold me while I fall to sleep.

Casper squeezed his eyes closed and lowered his hands. “Go on.” And Casper tried so hard to make his voice smile but something still fell flat and small and sad. “I’ll cover my face while you make a break for it if you like.”

“You should, lo—You—” Cain squeezed tighter, laughter soft against his throat. “Cover your eyes, Cas.” Just a whisper, his nose brushing behind Casper’s ear. “Just five seconds and I’ll be gone like the wind.”

“Until next week?”

“Until next week. I’ll be back on Saturday. But until then ... remember me like this.”

God, he couldn’t breathe. The city lights slipped across his vision in a haze. Like a dream.

“Three seconds,” Casper whispered. “I’ll count you out.”

“Three seconds. Then cover your eyes and count to five.”

“One—”

Cain’s breath slipped deep and heavy across his throat. “Two—”

“Three.”

His touch vanished and Casper pressed his hands to his face.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Godlethimstillbethere.

Five.

But he wasn’t.

Just the Chinese bag sitting on the floor and that perfect stranger gone like the fucking wind.