Monsta X for ilovesungyeollie.

These next two chapters are gonna be vampire AUs to tease a separate fic I'm working on :)

WARNING: contains semi-graphic descriptions of murder.

Sungyeol exists in the night, filling the gaps between the final taxis home and the bird songs that come before sunrise.

The first time Myungsoo sees him, he thinks he's come across a modern Adonis, and he can barely hide his awe when the beautiful man is sliding into a barstool and ordering a vodka martini. He splutters out a messy response and gets to work, trying his best to focus on his job and ignore the intense gaze fixed on him.

When he slides the glass across the counter, Sungyeol thanks him with a polite smile, sighing out satisfaction at the first sip. He turns back to Myungsoo, "Could I please have some extra olives?"

Myungsoo practically dishes half the jar out for him, but Sungyeol seems extremely pleased with this. He eats them idly between sips of his drink, turning his attention to the la playing on the little TV mounted up in the corner.

The bar has just about emptied for the night. Aside from Sungyeol, there's only a single table of young office workers who have fallen into the quiet stage of their drunkenness. One man stands and bids the rest of them farewell, waving to Myungsoo as he heads for the door.

Sungyeol doesn't turn his eyes away from the TV, but less than a minute after the man has left, he's hastily placing bills on the counter and thanking Myungsoo with a smile nothing like the one from before. Then, he's gone in a flash.

Myungsoo only comes out of his daze as he collects the cash left behind and notices that the man left about ten times the amount he owed.

A few days later, Myungsoo finds himself chatting with a young man who leans across the counter invasively, speaking in an urgent, hushed tone.

"Have you heard about that recent murder? It was just a few blocks from here, the police found some young man with a deep stab wound, skin white as paper. They think he bled to death, but there wasn't nearly enough blood at the crime scene to prove it."

Myungsoo tries to hide his discomfort at how close the man is leaning in to speak, "Maybe the murderer killed him elsewhere and moved the body there."

"See, I've been thinking that too, but nothing adds up to that. Rumour has it that the guy was having drinks here just a little while before he was killed."

His jaw drops in shock.

The man continues, "And the stab wound went straight through his clothes, which were all still perfectly intact when they found him, so why isn't there more blood?"

"Hold on, he was here before it happened?" He's trying his best to wrap his head around it, but it doesn't seem possible. Myungsoo racks his brain of customers he's had in the past week, but the only one he can seem to remember is the beautiful man from a few nights ago. Oh, no, but what if--

The intrusive thought is cut off when the beautiful man himself slides in a few seats down, greeting Myungsoo with that polite smile and ordering another vodka martini.

The man who had been so eagerly gossiping to Myungsoo a minute ago has fallen silent, eyeing the new guest warily. "You should be careful when you close up; you never know what odd characters might be around." He gives Myungsoo a curt nod, and leaves promptly.

Sungyeol watches him leave, then turns back to Myungsoo with a playful shine in his eyes, "What was that all about?"

"Some neighbourhood murder mystery." He's embarrassingly proud of himself for coming off so collected.

"Care to share the details?"

Myungsoo shrugs and recounts what he was just told as he mixes the drink. Oddly enough, he's acting really calm. He attributes it to the shocking news of the murder.

Sungyeol tilts his head, "That sounds really strange."

He looks like he's about to say more when a large group of people spills in. They're young and tipsy, probably halfway through a night of bar hopping. They immediately fill the bar seats on either side of Sungyeol, and Myungsoo rushes to scrawl their order on a notepad as it rushes out of one man's mouth.

There are girls on either side of Sungyeol, and they immediately strike up conversation with him, asking if he wants to join their group. The one to his left has bright red hair and is decked in tons of silver jewelry. She reaches out to touch his arm and he quickly pulls away.

"Sorry, I've, uhm... I've got a pretty bad allergy to some metals." He gestures to the rings on her hand, and her confusion is replaced with sympathy.

She continues to chat with him, though, telling him how when she got her first ear piercings she was scared to stray away from pure metals because of all the pictures of infected piercings the saw online.

Myungsoo, who's trying to listen in on their conversation as he mixes drinks, glances at the numerous piercings in her ears and thinks it's wondrous that the photos didn't seem to deter her from getting them at all. His thoughts are interrupted when a girl sitting across from him leans forward over the counter, grinning drunkenly, asking for his number. He shakes his head and laughs, telling her that his boss would never allow that.

Meanwhile, a few seats over, the girls are asking for Sungyeol's number.

"I don't actually have a cellphone." He presses his lips into a thin smile as they pout and coo, complaining that everybody has a cellphone, reasoning, what if he gets lost in the wilderness? How will he call for help?

Myungsoo finishes serving drinks and the group downs them quickly and noisily before they're slapping cash onto the counter and leaving as abruptly as they came. He collects the cash and tucks it into the register, smiling to himself as he calculates the kind tip they've left.

Sungyeol pulls out his wallet and Myungsoo stops him, "Please, it's on the house. You gave me enough last time to cover a vodka martini for every day of the week."

He grins, "Then I guess I should come back more often. Be careful on your way home." He leaves with a little wave.

Myungsoo goes to take his glass, but the napkin tucked under it catches his eye. On it, a phone number, and a brief message; 'Call during the day. -Sungyeol.'

And so, he does. He doesn't even give himself time to think about it, but it hits him about three rings in, what exactly is he calling for? It's not like they have anything to talk about.

Sungyeol picks up. "Hello?" He sounds sleepy.

"Hi, uh, this is Myungsoo. The bartender."

"Oh! I was worried you wouldn't call! It's not weird that I left my number, is it?"

"No! No, definitely not. It happens all the time." He realizes how that might come across. "But you're the first one I've actually called, of course."

"That's good to hear."

An awkward silence settles over the call.

Sungyeol breaks it, "Say, if you've got a night off this week, would you like to go for dinner sometime?"

They make plans to go to a homestyle diner that Sungyeol claims has the best seafood stew he's ever had, joking, "Better than my mom's, but don't tell her that."

Myungsoo spends the entire time leading up to the day thinking about it - how to dress, what to talk about, how to act - you name it. It's been a while since he's been on a date of any sort, mostly because of his introverted nature, but the more he imagines dinner with Sungyeol, the more excited he gets.

When the night comes around, Myungsoo takes his time washing up and styling his hair. He slides his wallet into his pocket and reaches for his watch, but a faint memory of Sungyeol mentioning a metal allergy comes to mind. He puts it back on his dresser and takes one last look in the mirror before heading out.

Dinner turns out to be everything he expected and more. The stew lives up to all that Sungyeol made it out to be, and conversation comes easy between them. Sungyeol finds out that Myungsoo likes to do photography in his spare time, and asks countless questions with genuine curiosity.

"What kind of things do you take photos of?"

"Mostly just scenery, landscapes, things like that. I don't really do human subjects. But if it were you, I'd like to try." They've been drinking, and the alcohol is starting to loosen up his lips.

"Oh, I'm not photogenic at all. Pictures just don't really seem to capture... me, I guess."

"I don't think many things could capture you," Myungsoo leans forward and props his chin on his hand, smiling admiringly at Sungyeol.

They bicker over the bill when it comes, and Myungsoo ends up paying, shooting a triumphant grin at Sungyeol from the register. Afterward, Myungsoo insists on walking Sungyeol home. He wishes him goodnight and watches him go inside. For the rest of the night, he's still buzzing with thoughts of Sungyeol and what's to come.

A week later, Myungsoo is walking home after closing up for the night when he hears a woman's voice from an alley up ahead. He can't distinguish any clear words, but she sounds panicked. As he gets within earshot, her speaking cuts off abruptly. He hides around the corner, peeking out cautiously into the alley.

A dark figure is crouched down next to a dumpster. The person throws a quick glance to either side, then turns back to face the wall.

Under any other circumstances, Myungsoo would be running away and phoning the cops, but he swears that for the split second the street lamp caught the man's face, he looked exactly like Sungyeol.

He continues to watch for a few minutes, but the man is staying oddly still. Then, in a moment of thoughtlessness, he steps forward and calls out, "Sungyeol?"

The man doesn't move for a moment, curses, then slowly stands up and turns around, revealing a woman's lifeless body slumped against the wall. She looks terribly pale, and Myungsoo feels sick. That feeling intensifies when he realizes that, yes, it really is Sungyeol standing across from him. His lips are stained red.

"Myungsoo, I can explain." He steps forward.

Myungsoo steps back, "Explain from right there."

"Okay, just- give me a moment. I need to collect my thoughts."

"You just killed that woman. And drank her blood."

He cringes, "Well, yes."

"You're a cannibal."

Sungyeol pauses and sends him an incredulous look. "I'm not a cannibal. I'd have to be human to be a cannibal. I'm a vampire, Myungsoo."

"I'm dreaming right now, right?"

"Believe me, I wish you were."

Suddenly, it's all adding up. The insane beauty, the mysterious murder, the metal allergy, the fact that photos don't really capture him. Myungsoo chews on his lip, "Were you planning to do the same to me? Kill me and drink my blood?"

He has the nerve to look hurt. "Myungsoo, it was never like that. I wouldn't do that to you. I like you a lot, believe me. I actually wanted something for us. I still want something for us."

"Then prove it. Let's shake on it." He moves forward and extends his hand.

Sungyeol reaches out to take it, but freezes when he notices the ring on Myungsoo's index finger. "What's that made of?"

"Silver."

"That could kill me."

"I wouldn't let it."

"No, you don't understand. If I touch silver, I freeze up. I won't be able to move at all, it'll burn me to ashes."

Myungsoo feels a twinge if guilt for what he's asking Sungyeol to do, but he stands his ground. "I won't let it kill you."

Sungyeol hesitates a moment longer, then nods and takes his hand. His hand is ice cold, and he jolts the moment his skin comes into contact with the ring. He goes completely rigid, eyes stuck shut.

Myungsoo watches carefully for fatal signs, and when he notices streaks of grey creeping up Sungyeol's wrist, he jerks his hand away.

The man sinks to his knees, clutching his hand to his chest in pain, mouth open in a silent scream.

He feels extremely sorry for what he's just done. "Are you gonna be alright?"

"Eventually, yeah. You trust me now?"

"Kind of. It's still gonna take some time to register the whole vampire situation."

"Well, I'm glad we got that sorted out."

"So am I." He watches Sungyeol examine his hand. "I'm going to go home now. And pretend like I never saw anything."

"You do that. I'll drop by the bar later this week?"

"Sure. See you then."

He steps out of the alley and continues his walk home, convincing himself that what Sungyeol does isn't that bad. It's what he needs to do to eat, isn't it? Doesn't that make it almost, sort of, a little bit acceptable?

After all, everyone has flaws.