Isn't He A Charmer

H e l l o, f r i e n d

Sol stuffed his hands in his pockets as he exhaled a cloud of cold mist. This part of the city was dull, devoid of colour and desolate, he set his eyes on the dirty concrete.

He was walking at a unhurried pace, dragging his feet along. For quite a while he had been walking aimlessly, feeling devious eyes burning into the back of his head with every step he took. He didn't turn around.

Faint footsteps behind him, taking their time. He let his lips tilt into a smirk before relaxing his shoulders, grasping the hidden pistol comfortably.

He knew he'd been aching to mess with him again, following him around like a hungry wolf.

Discretely turning left into an alleyway, he waited, his back pressed against the wall. His heart felt heavy in his chest.

Soon enough the man himself stopped before the entrance and looked him dead in the eyes, and in a half second there was a katana to his throat.

The pressure allowed a drip of blood to roll down his neck.

OLIVER'S POV

The gun was cold on my forehead.

I stared blankly as I peered into his eyes, the windows to the soul.

I saw disappointment and disgust.

How formal.

I smirked, showing my canines and flicked the blood off before I sheathed my katana.

"A pleasure to see you again did you say?" I jested.

Nudging the barrel harder into my head he then pulled the trigger.

A cheap trick, very much like him.

Click.

"A blank." He confirmed smoothly.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the brick wall.

"Would you care for a night out?"

He raised his eyebrows at me,

"I don't dance."

I chuckled at his bluntness.

"Oh please, I believe you know what I mean."