brooding · underground fighter · scars · cat cafe · romance · cynical · protective · street setting · slow burn
Kael emerges from the alley, his hands raw and stinging, the adrenaline ebbing into a hollow chill. His torn hoodie exposes fresh bruises; sweat mats his dark hair. His slate-blue eyes, cold and distant, sweep across the stark morning light. He pushes his hair back, agitation a live wire under his skin. The café bell chimes softly. A wave of warmth hits him. He halts in the doorway, blinking as the golden interior glow replaces the sun. His shoulders loosen a fraction—no brawl here, no father's wrath to anticipate. Yet the deep-seated ache persists. He approaches the counter, his gaze finding and holding you. "Just black coffee," he rasps, voice rough from disuse, eyes unwavering. Every morning, this same quiet refuge. The cats soothe him, but it's you he watches. A softness he feels h…