don't blame me

.

In the center of the city, where the streets are bustling with crowds and music even late into the night, the clubs with catchy names sell drinks spiked with magic and take in creatures that crawl out of the dark.

It's where Minho feels the least safe out of the entirety of the city-even though he can protect himself quite well, definitely better than all the other mundanes that walk right into the traps without the slightest idea what they're doing.

Minho isn't here to save anyone tonight, though.

The colorful lights of the Namsan Tower cast a harsh glow over the hill, exposing the lack of souls wandering around. It's probably the first time Minho sees the place usually teeming with people all deserted. He expected that when he got the tip, but it's still a stark and surprising contrast to the streets the tower is surrounded with.

With a sigh, he finally makes his way inside and heads for the elevator, hitting the button covered by a star-shaped sticker, one that's clearly supposed to lead him to the top floor. Automatically, Minho double-checks his weapons; the silver dagger is still strapped to his thigh, pistol is at his belt, and if Minho tries hard enough, he can use the leather it's made of to strangle the guy waiting for him on the lookout.

The elevator doors slide open quietly a few moments later, revealing the panoramic view of the city under the blanket of the night, with lights glimmering and the full moon hanging high on the infinite expanse of navy blue.

Minho refuses to be impressed.

"Did you rent the whole tower for me?" he says, stepping out of the elevator. "I'm flattered."

Han Jisung turns around from where he's been leaning against the railing, not the slightest look of surprise on his face; he had probably smelled Minho from this high even before Minho made his way into the building.

The corners of his lips upturn in a grin. "I'm glad you made it," he says, strolling over to the table to take two glasses of what looks like wine from the tray and hand one over to Minho.

Their fingers brush. The coldness of Jisung's skin would make him shudder if only he wasn't so used to it-and if it weren't so cold up here, on the top of the Tower. It's late September after all.

"How could I refuse a personal invitation to kill you?" Minho asks, taking a small sip of the wine despite knowing that the last thing he should do is accept anything from a vampire-especially food and drinks.

He's broken too many rules on Han Jisung to care now.

Jisung chuckles. Minho wants nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face and finally end him once and for all, but even though he came prepared, he knows it isn't enough. Maybe he'd be able to break a few of his bones if he pushed him off the tower, though. . . That idea seems pretty tempting.

"It wasn't really an invitation, was it?" Jisung lifts the glass to his mouth, only to barely let the wine touch his lips before he starts twirling it around. The liquor leaves red streaks on the walls-and it's far from the first time he's seeing him drink that, but Minho still sets his jaw at the mixture of wine and blood. "I stopped bothering with those, because you always seem to have no problem finding me without them."

That's the thing, really.

Minho didn't see it at first (and he still doesn't understand it-or, rather, refuses to), but weeks ago he was ranting to Changbin about how he's being dragged all over the city chasing Jisung, and Changbin found it exceptionally funny that-for some twisted reason-Jisung appeared at the places in Seoul advertised as the most romantic and suitable for dates.