After Closing

Back at the Manor

Emmerich had returned home without further fanfare. He unbuttoned his sleeves, rolled them up, and walked into the kitchen, already giving instructions to the chefs.

"Nothing fancy," he said. "Just something warm. Soft. Comforting."

The head chef raised an eyebrow. "For Miss Luna?"

Emmerich nodded.

"She's going to come home tired. I want the house to smell like safety."

The chef smiled, a rare moment of warmth from the staff.

"Yes, sir."

The prep began immediately: chicken rice porridge, lightly spiced soup, and cinnamon-vanilla almond milk warmed just right.

Emmerich stood by the doorway for a long moment, his mind already drifting to his daughter's laughter—and the two fools he had just met.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rooftop lights cast long shadows, and the faint hum of the city below was a distant lull, contrasting sharply with the rising tension between Emilio and Leroy.

"Don't think of coming back to the café." Leroy threatened.

Emilio's jaw tightened.

"You don't get to talk about things you don't control," he said, voice low and deceptively calm.

Leroy's gaze was as sharp as ever. "I understand enough to know that you're a bioengineered poster boy. A science project turned celebrity. Don't act like your past isn't carefully edited for public consumption. So back off."

That struck. Emilio took a step forward.

"You think you're better?" he said, mockingly. "You, with your classified files, redacted reports, and a record so dirty it leaves a stain wherever you walk?"

Leroy's eyes narrowed. "I never claimed to be a hero."

"No," Emilio snapped, "you're worse. You're the kind of scum that thinks staying close to Luna will somehow cleanse your sins. So you don't deserve to be near her."

Leroy's fist moved before either of them realized.

It aimed at Emilio's jaw. A clean, practiced hit.

But Emilio recovered fast. He was the world champion for a reason.

He caught Leroy by the collar, slammed him into the side of a parked car, denting the door, and snarled, "Say that again."

Leroy didn't flinch. "You're a pretty face built in a lab. Stay in your spotlight. Luna doesn't need your brand of attention."

Emilio's punch came fast, hitting Leroy square in the gut—enough to knock the air from his lungs but not enough to flatten him.

They stood there, fists clenched, breaths heavy, blood on the edge of boiling.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Luna slipped off her apron, wiped her hands, and checked the time. Almost closing.

Ken peeked out from the break room like a guilty raccoon.

"Hey, um... Leroy never grabbed his motorcycle keys. So... he might still be close."

Luna raised a brow. "Did you check the back?"

Ken shook his head. "Nope. What if he's there waiting to claim my corpse? So no thanks, I value my life."

"Coward."

"I accept that."

Kana stood up from her slouched position on the couch. "I'll come. Just in case he needs to be pepper-sprayed."

Luna blinked. "Kana, it's Leroy."

Kana held up the small pink canister. "Yeah, Leroy the guy who gets cuts and bruised from who knows where, so just in case."

With a sigh and a shrug, Luna led the way out the back, into the parking structure behind the café. The air outside was cooler now, sharp with dusk. The hum of tension seemed to reach them before they even got close.

Then—

BANG.

The clang of metal on metal.

Kana immediately grabbed Luna's arm. "That's not a romantic talk."

Luna squinted past the shadows.

Then she saw them: Leroy and Emilio—facing off like they were in some underground fight club, bruised and breathing hard.

Luna's voice cut through the air like a whip.

"WHAT in the name of the Nine Lives are you two doing?!"

Both men froze.

Kana, standing just behind Luna, popped the cap off her pepper spray with a threatening click.

Emilio blinked, pulling back, touching his jaw where a red mark was starting to bloom. "Luna—hey, it's not what it looks like—"

"Oh? So it's not two grown men punching each other over god-knows-what behind a cat café?" Luna snapped, voice sharp and calm—always dangerous.

Leroy straightened up slowly, looking away.

"I left my keys."

"You left your brain, apparently," Luna muttered.

Kana huffed. "What is this? A love triangle death match?"

"I'd say it's more of an ego deathmatch," Luna said. "But we're not airing our drama behind the dumpsters."

She walked straight to Leroy, tossed his motorcycle keys that Ken had handed her with reverence back at the café, and tossed them at Leroy's chest. "Take a ride. Cool your head."

She turned to Emilio, who was still catching his breath. "You. Go home. Or to the gym. Or a mirror, I don't care. Better yet, go to the clinic and get a checkup, especially for your brain. Since apparently it's damage enough to start a random fight with another guy."

Kana snorted.

Emilio chuckled and grinned. "So rude. Still so bossy when you're mad."

Luna raised a brow. "And you're bruised when you're stupid."

Emilio then laughed out loud. Leroy gritted his teeth. 

Leroy was already picking up his helmet.

Luna's tone softened just a little. "Don't fight over some cat and make me the escape goat. Really, what's wrong with you guys? Besides, both of you are my special friends, so if either of you still wants to be my friend, you need to start acting like you reasonable adults."

Leroy paused at that.

Emilio said nothing, but his grin faded.

They both looked at Luna, hurt.

"What?"

"Nothing." Both answered as they moved away. 

"Friends?" Kana blurted.

"Yeah, guy friends. Is there something wrong with that?" 

"Luna, oh, Luna~" Kana muttered.

Seeing as the men parted ways—Emilio heading to his car, Leroy onto his bike—Luna turned to Kana with an exhausted sigh.

"You think I can still make it to dinner without another fire?"

Kana deadpanned, "Only if you serve it with a fire extinguisher."