The sound of the neighborhood steakhouse pulsed against the brick walls, and Sasha felt every beat like a panic warning. She walked a step behind Stella, trying to use her friend's back as a shield; her hands were buried in her hoodie sleeves, and her headphones rested around her neck like a symbolic barrier against the world.
When Stella opened the door, the noisy chaos of the room seemed to fall silent for a second as all eyes turned toward them.
— Stella, please, can we go?
— Sasha whispered, her voice nearly vanishing.
— There are too many people...
Stella stopped and turned around. Her gaze, which usually only softened for K-drama marathons, was firm.
— Sasha, listen. Today, you're just going to be Sasha. If you stay for one drink, tomorrow we'll watch that K-drama marathon you hate, and I'll even finish the new expressions for your VTuber avatar. The ones with the heart eyes.
Sasha hesitated. The bribe was tempting. But before she could answer, they were already near the only large table available, where the crew from the "Grão de Ouro" café was relaxing after their shift.
The Recognition
Valentina, whose face was already slightly flushed from her second gin and a surge of chaotic energy, shouted out, drawing everyone's attention:
— I want to get married already! I don't want to die single!
— She slammed her hand on the table just as her eyes focused on Stella's leather jacket.
— No... I don't believe it!
Valentina's voice came out far too loud.
— David, look! It's the "grumpy customer"! Our most serious morning regular!
— Jeez, stop bothering people, Val! I told you not to drink so much
— David intervened, giving a sheepish smile and waving vigorously.
— Hello, girls! Finally, familiar faces and... the "mystery girl" who never takes off her hoodie.
Sasha took a step back, trying to evaporate, but Valentina was already pointing at them with a wide, drunken grin.
— Sit here!
— Valentina continued, laughing.
— I was just telling David you looked like someone hiding an interesting secret life, Stella. You can't just walk past us at a bar like you don't see us at the counter every single day!
Stella stopped, surprised. She recognized the black-haired server with thick-framed glasses who never stopped talking, and right beside her, the silent barista.
— Valentina?
— Stella arched an eyebrow, letting out a short laugh.
— I didn't know this bar accepted people as loud as you at this hour.
— They accept everyone, even grumpy people like you!
— Valentina joked, gesturing toward the chairs. — Sit down! And bring your friend; she looks like she's seen a ghost.
Stella scanned the table. She saw Isaac, the barista who prepared her coffee every morning with almost sacred precision. He said nothing; he simply looked up and gave a polite, yet distant, nod. It was the recognition of a professional toward a regular customer, nothing more.
— Well, it seems fate wants us to be around coffee people even at night
— Stella said, pulling out a chair and forcing Sasha to sit down.
— Hello, boys. Looks like it'll be up to us to look after Valentina and ourselves tonight.
Isaac gave a discreet half-smile, glancing at Sasha, who looked like she wanted to pull her head inside her own coat. He said directly, without changing his expression:
— Good evening.
— Don't mind Isaac, he's still in "barista mode"
— David cut in, patting his friend's shoulder while winking at the girls.
— I try to bring him into the light, but he prefers the shadows. But what about you? What brings someone who drinks coffee as bitter as Stella's to a bar on a Wednesday night? Are you running away from a romantic comedy script?
Valentina was already pushing the menu toward them, laughing at David's analysis.
— Go on, pick something already! I want to know: what makes a person who only drinks bitter coffee show up here in the middle of a Wednesday night?
Masks, Sketches, and Chords
The bar seemed like the perfect stage for a collision of worlds that should never have crossed paths. Under the amber light bathing the table, the initial tensions began to dissolve, giving way to a cautious curiosity.
Valentina, with the experience of someone who had lived a thousand nights like this one, served a round of appetizers. She observed the group with a glint in her eyes, realizing that behind David's laughter or Stella's rigid posture, everyone there carried an invisible shield.
— So
— David began, adjusting his chair to lean closer to Stella.
— Isaac told me you guys are regulars, but I've never had the pleasure of serving two such... peculiar figures. Especially "Leather Jacket Girl" here.
Stella raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
— If "peculiar" is your code for "someone who can knock you out," then yes, you nailed it.
David let out a genuine laugh, drawing everyone's attention.
— I like her! Valentina, can we hire her as our security? Isaac is too polite and I'm too handsome to take punches.
Refuge in the Sketch
As the conversation grew louder, Isaac noticed Sasha withdrawing, her fingers nervously gripping the strap of her bag. He knew that feeling; the sensation that the world is too loud and that everyone is staring at your flaws.
Subtly, Isaac pulled out a notepad and a pencil he always kept in his pocket. He began drawing quick lines, not looking much at the paper, simply to shift the focus away from himself. The friendly smile he kept on his face was his automatic defense, hiding the trauma of a past where trust had cost him dearly. To him, smiling was just the work uniform he never took off.
— You know
— Isaac said in a low voice, meant only for Sasha.
— I use this so I don't have to speak when words feel too heavy. It helps to focus on something I can control.
Sasha looked sideways at the drawing. It was a sketch of a character with melancholy yet expressive features. She hesitated, feeling her social anxiety dampen in the face of Isaac's calm voice.
— You draw very well
— she whispered, her voice nearly lost among the bar's instruments.
— I... I like creating things too. But I'm not good with lines like Stella. She's an incredible artist and she's the one who brings my ideas to life.
— What do you create?
— Isaac asked, genuinely interested, locking eyes with her for a second before she looked away.
Sasha felt her heart race. She couldn't say she was Lani, the streamer with thousands of followers. If he knew, he might look for her face or, worse, judge her.
— I write songs
— she partially lied, omitting the streaming part.
— And I play bass. But only in my room. The world outside is... too loud for my music.
Isaac nodded slowly. He felt a familiarity in that pain, though for different reasons. His loneliness was a maximum-security prison; hers was a labyrinth of fear.
— I understand. Sometimes, the silence of one's own room is the only real thing we have left.
On the other side of the table, the atmosphere heated up in a different way. Valentina and Stella were in the middle of a heated argument about the latest episode of a Korean drama.
— Don't you dare tell me the protagonist should have ended up with the second lead, Valentina!
— Stella exclaimed, forgetting her tough-girl act and gesturing with her hands, revealing an almost childlike excitement.
— Stella, honey, the second lead had a solid motivation!
— Valentina shot back, laughing and lightly tapping Stella's shoulder.
— But deep down, don't we all just want someone who holds an umbrella for us in the middle of a storm?
David looked at Stella, surprised, but with a spark of discovery in his eyes.
— Wait a second... You like K-dramas? And here I thought you spent your free time fighting street gangs.
Stella blushed, which made her look strangely vulnerable.
— I like well-written scripts, okay?
— she tried to defend herself, but David didn't ridicule her.
— Relax, tough guy. I'm addicted too
— David confessed, making a shushing gesture with his finger.
— But don't tell Isaac, he thinks I spend my nights studying. Actually, I spend my nights crying while watching Crash Landing on You.
Stella looked at David with a new perspective. The "clown" of the coffee shop had layers she didn't expect. She saw that he used humor the same way she used aggression: to prevent anyone from seeing what lay beneath.
The Silent Escape in the Middle of the Bar
As the group lost themselves in laughter and discussions about shows, the bar began playing heavier rock. Sasha instinctively pulled her headphones down around her neck but didn't put them on. She looked at Isaac's hand, still holding the pencil.
— You seem to be happy all the time, Isaac
— Sasha said suddenly, in a burst of courage.
— But your drawings are... sad. Why?
Isaac stopped his pencil on the paper. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes went distant for a millisecond, remembering the accusations that destroyed his ability to trust.
— I think it's because drawings don't have to pretend, Sasha. They can be exactly what they feel.
Valentina, noticing the more serious tone between the two, raised her glass, toasting to nothing.
— Look at us! A bunch of misfits pretending to be normal. Isaac and his drawings, David and his hidden dramas, Stella and her fanfics...
— Stella kicked Valentina's shin under the table
— ... and little Sasha with her invisible bass.
Sasha gave a small smile, her first of the night. There, protected by the bar's chaos and the masks of her new acquaintances, she felt that maybe she didn't need to be "Lani" to be accepted. And Isaac, observing the sparkle in her eyes, felt a pang of fear: the fear that this girl might, one day, make him want to truly love again.
The Impact of a Leather Armor
The bar seethed under the amber lighting and the lingering scent of malt, but for the small group at the corner table, the world seemed to have settled into a rare harmony. Stella, relaxed in her leather jacket, allowed herself a genuine smile as she watched Sasha. Her friend, though still huddled in her hoodie, maintained a constant, whispered dialogue with Isaac, whose calm eyes seemed to offer the sanctuary the streamer needed to keep from fleeing.
However, the stillness was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps and the acrid smell of cheap booze.
A man, whose balance had been defeated by alcohol long ago, stopped in front of the table. He ignored the presence of the others, fixing his bleary eyes on Stella. With invasive persistence, he leaned over the wooden tabletop, invading the young woman's personal space.
— Hey, little girl...
— he slurred, his voice heavy.
— Why the long face? You're too pretty to be so grumpy.
Stella felt her jaw tighten. Her eyes, previously soft, turned into two slits of cold steel.
— Beat it
— she ordered, her voice low and dangerous, like the thunder that precedes a storm.
— I'm not interested, and I'm not going to repeat myself.
The man, inflated by artificial courage, let out a mocking laugh and reached out a trembling hand, attempting to grab Stella's arm with brute force. The reaction was instantaneous.
David, who until then had been watching the scene with growing concern and anger, jumped to his feet. The young man's usually easygoing air vanished, replaced by a protective instinct he didn't even know he possessed.
— Hey! She told you to get lost
— David said, positioning himself firmly between the aggressor and Stella.
The drunk, infuriated by the interruption, shoved David roughly.
— Get out of the way, kid! Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong!
The man lunged forward again, but he hadn't counted on what would happen next. Stella wasn't just a fan of Korean dramas; she carried years of martial arts discipline under that temperamental facade. With an agility that made time seem to slow down, she spun her body on its axis.
— I warned you not to touch me!
— her scream cut through the noise of the bar.
In a fluid Taekwondo motion, Stella's foot connected with absolute precision to the aggressor's jaw. The impact was so powerful that the man was launched backward, losing all gravity. Unconscious before he even hit the floor, his heavy body flew toward David, who was still trying to find his balance from the previous shove.
The thud was dry. David hit the ground, buried under the weight of the passed-out stranger.
The silence that followed was absolute. Valentina's eyes widened, her tequila glass forgotten in her hand, while Sasha held her breath, paralyzed by shock. Stella, whose fury was still pulsing through her veins, disarmed the moment she saw David down.
— David!
— Her cry now wasn't one of anger, but of pure terror.
She threw herself onto the floor, frantically pushing the man's body aside to free her friend. Her hands, which moments ago were weapons, now trembled as they touched David's shoulders.
— Are you okay? Talk to me!
— she exclaimed, her voice thick with worry.
— Why did you get in the way? I could have handled it myself!
David opened his eyes slowly, feeling the world spin. The first thing he saw was Stella's face, just inches from his own. There was no "Tough Stella" there; only a wide-eyed girl with trembling lips, whose touch on his face was as delicate as a petal.
— I...
— David coughed, trying to catch his breath while feeling the warmth of her hands on his skin.
— I just didn't want him to hurt you. But I think you're the one who ended up saving me, weren't you?
Stella realized, in that instant, how close they were. The aroma of coffee that always followed David mingled with the surroundings, and she felt her heart give an erratic jolt. A blush crept up her neck and she looked away, though she didn't pull her hands back immediately.
— You're a mess, David
— she grumbled, trying to regain her sharp tone but failing miserably.
— But... thank you. For trying to be the hero.
Valentina, watching the scene from a distance, exchanged a knowing look with Isaac. The chaos of the night was over, but on the floor of that grimy bar, something new and untamable had just begun to bloom between the girl in the leather jacket and the boy from the coffee shop.
Where Steel Rests
The impact of David hitting the wooden floor echoed through the bar, which now seemed frozen in time. The silence was broken only by the confused murmurs of other customers, who began to draw closer to see the damage the "flying body" had caused.
— Isaac, help me here!
— Stella called out, her voice wavering as she tried to lift David, who still looked a bit dazed under the weight of the aggressor.
Isaac, with his habitual calm now tinged with urgency, stood up quickly. He and Stella gripped David by the armpits, helping him sit in one of the chairs at the table. Sasha, trembling but feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline, grabbed a cloth napkin and dampened it with some mineral water from the table, handing it to Stella.
— Did he hit his head? David, look at me
— Stella pleaded, cupping his face with both hands to force eye contact. Her previous authoritative tone had given way to a vulnerability none of them had ever seen in her.
— Just... my shoulder
— David grumbled, grimacing as he tried to move his right arm.
— Did that guy eat cement for dinner? He weighs a ton.
Valentina, recovering from the shock, tossed her purse over her shoulder and took control of the situation. She saw the bar's security finally approaching to collect the unconscious man on the floor.
— Enough bar for today. Let's get out of here before they call the police and we have to spend the night giving statements because of this idiot
— Valentina decreed, looking at the guard and pointing to the drunk.
— He attacked the girl; we were just defending ourselves.
The Retreat
The group left under the curious gazes of the patrons. The cold night air hit David's face like a necessary wake-up call. He walked with difficulty, leaning on Stella, who insisted on keeping his arm draped over her shoulders.
— I can walk, Stella, seriously
— he tried to protest, though secretly, he was loving the closeness.
— Shut up, David. You almost got crushed by a drunk sack of potatoes because of me. Just accept the support.
They walked to the cars in reflective silence. The tension of the confrontation was dissipating, giving way to a collective exhaustion. Isaac would take Sasha home, as she still seemed to be processing her friend's "cinematic kick." Valentina, sensing the static electricity between Stella and David, simply gave a sly smile.
— I'm taking an Uber
— Valentina said, winking at Stella.
— Stella, will you take the "hero" home? He lives near you, doesn't he?
Stella hesitated for a second, feeling David's gaze on her, but nodded with a short movement of her head.
The Way Back
Inside Stella's car, the silence was filled only by the low sound of the radio. David leaned his head back against the seat, watching Stella's profile under the streetlights. She drove with pressed lips, her hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.
— Are you mad?
— David asked softly.
— I'm irritated
— she corrected, without taking her eyes off the road.
— Irritated because you put yourself at risk. I know how to take care of myself, David. I've trained for years for situations like that.
— I know that. I saw it; what you did looked like Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee
— David let out a painful little laugh.
— It was amazing, actually. But the moment he lunged... I didn't think about Taekwondo or technique. I just didn't want him to touch you.
Stella parked the car in front of David's building. She turned off the engine, and the silence became heavy. She turned to him, her expression softened.
— No one has ever...
— she began, but cleared her throat to find her voice.
— No one has ever tried to stand in front of me before. Everyone thinks I'm made of steel.
She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, where the impact had been hardest. David felt the warm touch through the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, the pain vanished.
— You might even be made of steel, Stella
— David said, his voice sounding braver than he felt.
— But even steel needs a place to rest sometimes.
Stella felt her heart race again. She leaned forward, and for a brief second, David thought she would kiss him. Instead, she pressed a long kiss onto his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and whispered in his ear:
— Go up, take a hot shower, and put ice on that shoulder. If it's not better tomorrow, I'm coming to get you and taking you to the hospital by force. Understood?
David got out of the car with a goofy smile that even physical pain couldn't erase. Stella waited until he entered the building before starting the engine. As she drove away, she looked in the rearview mirror and, for the first time in a long time, she didn't see just a fighter, but a girl who might be ready to let someone fight by her side.