Chapter 1: Tea and Tough Love at Midnight
The bell above the door jangled, a tinny protest swallowed instantly by the rich, throaty hum of the coffee shop. Steam hissed. Beans ground. Someone laughed, sharp and sudden near the window.
Lee flinched, his hand stilling over the throb beneath his thin t-shirt. He kept his eyes down, tracing the whorls in the scarred wooden tabletop. The chipped mug of tea Seren had practically thrown in front of him steamed, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread coiling in his stomach.
"Seren, mun," he mumbled, the strong Cardiff lilt thickening with fatigue and something like shame. "Don't make a fuss, yeah? It's nothin'."
"Nothing?" Seren leaned over the table, her own mug forgotten. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge, her dark eyes boring into him with an intensity that made the ambient chatter and hiss of the espresso machine fade into white noise. The scent of roasted beans and spilt milk suddenly felt cloying. "Lee Williams, look at me."
He lifted his head slowly. His face, usually holding a youthful openness that belied his profession, was pale. Shadows bruised the skin beneath his wide, dark eyes. A faint, purpling mark, angry and fresh, peeked above the collar of his shirt near his collarbone. But it was the way he held himself, shoulders hunched protectively inward, one arm subtly cradling his chest, that told the deeper story.
"It was just a bloke," Lee said, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the shop. He tried for a casual shrug, but it turned into a wince. "Last night. Bit enthusiastic, like. Got carried away."
"Enthusiastic?" Seren spat the word. She slid into the chair opposite him, her movement sharp. "Carried away how? Tell me, Lee.
Lee’s fingers trembled as he pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, just an inch. The bruise wasn’t huge, but it was unmistakable: a livid, thumb-shaped smudge of purple and blue, stark against the pale skin near the hollow of his throat.