The rain had stopped by the time Julian finished sweeping the shop floor. He was about to flip the "Closed" sign when the door rattled with a sudden thud.
He blinked. A man leaned against the glass, breathing hard, one hand clutching his side. His lip was split, blood dripping slowly down his chin.
Julian's first instinct was to lock the door tighter. But then the man's eyes lifted—storm-dark, raw, almost pleading.
"Do you—" the stranger's voice was rough, like gravel. "Do you sell bandages with your flowers?"
Julian hesitated, then unlocked the door. "Not usually. But… come in."
The man stumbled inside, dripping rainwater onto the tile floor. Up close, he was even more intimidating—broad shoulders, bruises already forming across his cheekbone, knuckles torn open. He looked like trouble. Dangerous trouble.
Julian fetched the first-aid kit from behind the counter. "Sit," he said, gesturing to the stool near the lilies. His voice wavered, but somehow the man obeyed, lowering himself with a heavy sigh.
As Julian dabbed at the split lip with antiseptic, the man winced but didn't pull away.
"You should see a doctor," Julian murmured.
The man smirked, though it twisted with pain. "Doctors cost money. Flowers don't."
Julian glanced up, startled, meeting that gaze again. For someone who looked like he could break walls with his fists, there was a strange stillness in him.
"You fight," Julian said softly.
"Yeah." The man flexed his bloodied hand. "Name's Rafe. Underground ring."
Julian's fingers hesitated for a beat before he kept working. "And when you're not bleeding on my shop floor?"
Rafe gave a short laugh. "Sleeping. Fighting again. Not much else." His eyes softened. "Until now."
Julian felt his face warm, and he quickly busied himself with wrapping the bandage. "This place isn't for people like you."
"Maybe not." Rafe leaned back slightly, surrounded by buckets of roses and carnations. The image was almost absurd—this bruised fighter among delicate petals. His voice dropped lower, rough but gentle. "But it's the first place I've walked into that doesn't feel like hell."
Julian's hand stilled, the bandage half tied. His pulse was loud in his ears.
For the first time, he wondered if maybe danger and gentleness weren't opposites after all.