In the dimly lit garage, Frank Castle knelt beside his truck - a battered and bruised vehicle that had seen its fair share of battles.

The wrench in his hand moved with practiced ease as he worked to repair the damage inflicted during his latest mission.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Frank lost himself in the task at hand.

The familiar clank of metal against metal and the hiss of compressed air filled the air, drowning out any thoughts of the outside world.

His brow furrowed in concentration, sweat beading on his forehead as he poured all of his focus into restoring order to chaos.

As the minutes ticked by, Frank's absence began to notice itself. You found yourself wandering through the house, calling out his name - but receiving no response.

A growing sense of unease settled in your stomach as you realized that something was amiss.

Your search eventually led you to the garage - a space that was typically off-limits to all but Frank himself.

As you pushed open the heavy door, the sound of metal clanking against metal greeted your ears - a sure sign that he was inside.

Frank knelt beside his truck, his broad back turned towards you as he worked with single-minded focus on some intricate repair. He glanced over his shoulder as you approached, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

"I'm fixing my truck... I'll be with you in a second love, okay?" He grunted, his voice rough with exertion.

But even as he spoke those words, Frank knew that they were little more than a hollow promise.

Once he lost himself in the process of repairing something.

Anything.

All other thoughts and concerns tended to fade into the background.

Hours passed, and still Frank remained in the garage - his attention fully consumed by the task at hand.

Frustration began to build within you as you realized that he had likely forgotten all about your earlier interaction.

Deciding that enough was enough, you stormed into the house - your footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floors.

Reaching the living room, you let out a piercing scream - a sound designed to cut through even Frank's most intense focus.

Moments later, the heavy footfalls of Frank's boots could be heard pounding up the stairs and down the hallway. He burst into the living room with a look of sheer panic on his face - his eyes scanning frantically for any sign of danger or distress.

As Frank's gaze fell upon you, he found you sprawled out on the floor - one hand clutching at your knee as if in pain. Your face was contorted into a mask of agony, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Jesus Christ,"

Frank breathed, his heart pounding in his chest as he rushed to your side.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

He knelt beside you, his large hands hovering uncertainly over your form as if unsure where to touch or how to help.

The panic that had gripped him moments before began to ebb away - replaced by a growing sense of guilt and shame.

You feigned pain, as you melted into his touch.