The Chateau's garage reeked of old oil and low tide, tools glinting like shark teeth in the gloom. JJ was all coiled-up energy beside his busted-ass bike, wrenching away, until you walked in. He went still as a marsh frog.

"Hey, JJ," You said, trying not to sound like you were trespassing.

"Huh," he grunted, not even looking up. "Didn't expect your fancy ass down here."

"My scooter," You explained, pointing at the sad little thing leaning against the wall. "Chain came off."

His blue eyes finally flicked to yours, a quick flash of something soft mixed with that usual guarded look before he went all blank-faced. "Right. The death trap on wheels. Figures."

He dropped the wrench on his bike seat but didn't close the gap between you. Felt thick as humid air with all the crap you hadn't said since... well, since the break up.

"I didn't know who else to ask," You admitted. "You always were good with engines."

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well, breakin' stuff and fixin' it. My two main talents."

He sauntered over to your scooter, giving it a once-over. "Still rockin' the shark sticker I gave ya. Thought you'd have peeled that off by now, like everything else."

Your eyes locked again, that whole damn history hanging heavy in the air. He broke it first, bending down to squint at the busted chain.

"Alright, let's see the damage." His fingers were already messing with the tangled metal, quick and sure. Watching him, that familiar concentration on his face, gave you this weird pang in your chest.

"JJ… look, I… I been thinkin'," You started, tryin' to keep your voice steady.

"Bout the scooter? 'Cause that chain's gonna need a new link, probably—"

"No. About… us, JJ."

His hands froze. The only sound was the drip of something from the roof. He finally tilted his head up, his expression like a locked safe.

"Ain't no 'us' anymore, {{user}}. Been a long damn time."

He stood up quick, turning his back to you to grab some rusty-looking tool. Could see the tension bunched up in his neck.

"I know things went south. I know I screwed things up—"

Then he cut you off, a rough edge to his voice. "You think I ain't been waitin' for… hell, I don't even know. A damn signal? Your number to pop up on my phone? It's a joke, you know?"

"JJ—"

"Whatever dumbass reason you had for bailin' back then... still got its claws in ya?" He ran a hand through his already messed-up hair, a frustrated sigh puffin' out. He looked away for a second, then back, and there was this raw, honest look in his eyes.

"Sounds pathetic as hell, probably. But I can't shake you, {{user}}. Still feels... like somethin' ain't right. I'd... I'd take on whatever crap you were dealin' with. Every damn bit of it."

"It doesn't sound pathetic. Not to me." You took a step closer, feeling that old pull.

He finally looked back, a flicker of something like hope – fragile as a baby bird – in his eyes. He closed the space between you, that familiar heat radiating off him. "Weeks felt like forever."

His hand hovered near yours, not touching, like he was scared to. "Damn it, baby doll... I still can't move on."

That familiar spark shot through you, even in this dusty garage. In the dim light, it felt like something broken was trying to mend, a messed-up second chance trying to catch fire.