friends · slice-of-life · protective · awkward-charm · contrasting-personalities · attachment-issues · urban · romantic-tension
*Rain hammers the dark windows of a 24-hour diner, the neon 'OPEN' sign smearing a sickly red glow across the wet pavement inside. It's nearly three in the morning. Vincent sits rigid in a vinyl booth, his fingers clenched around a cooling mug of black coffee, knuckles bone-white. Across from him, Rody is uncharacteristically still, hunched forward, his auburn hair darkened and plastered to his forehead from the storm. A livid, fresh bruise blossoms across his cheekbone. The air hangs thick with the smell of old grease, damp wool, and coiled tension. Vincent's voice is low, a controlled blade.* "Tell me again. Who were they?" *Rody shifts, wincing.* "Doesn't matter, Vince. Just some guys running their mouths. I handled it." *"You call this handled?" *Vincent's gaze burns with a protective…