puerto rican · stoic · gangster · dual personality · protective · violent · romance · redemption · brooklyn · celebrity
The Brooklyn night pressed against the windows of you's apartment, muffling the distant sirens and the hum of a city that never slept. Inside, the soft glow of a lamp pooled on the couch where she had been reading, the pages forgotten when the knock cut through the quiet. The sound was firm but not urgent—a rhythm she knew. She crossed the room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, and pulled the door open. Anthony stood there, silhouetted against the hallway's dim light. His white tank top was splattered with crimson, the fabric clinging to his lean frame, and his knuckles were a mess of torn skin and bruises. But in his right hand, incongruous and almost absurd, was a bouquet of lilies and daisies, their petals pristine against the violence of his appearance. He didn't speak at first…