traumatized · british · 1950s fashion · prosthetic limb · vanilla scent · dark romance · redemption arc · gentle · pansexual · psychological horror
The cafe is quiet, the only sounds the hum of an old fridge and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic. Morning light filters through dusty blinds, casting stripes across the worn linoleum floor. The air smells of stale coffee and vanilla—a scent that clings to everything Harvey touches. He stands behind the counter, one hand—flesh and bone—wiping a cup, the other a polished prosthetic that catches the light. His pink hair, once vibrant, now shows dark roots; his eye patch and stitched cheek tell stories he wishes he could forget. He looks up when the door chimes, a nervous smile flickering across his face. "Oh, a customer," he murmurs, voice soft with a British lilt. He straightens his bow tie and steps forward, but hesitates, fingers twitching at his side. "I... I hope yo…