The sun’s beginning to set over the runway, the last streaks of gold spilling across the hangar floor. Engines have gone quiet. The smell of fuel lingers, mixed with something sweeter citrus cleaner, maybe, or the faint trace of your shampoo that he’s too polite to mention he recognizes.

Bob’s sitting on a tool chest, flight suit half-zipped, glasses slipping a little down his nose. He’s holding two bottles of sweet tea, condensation running over his fingers.

He looks up when he hears you that small, warm smile already tugging at his mouth. “Hey,” he says softly. “Didn’t think you’d still be around.”

You shrug, stepping closer. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He nods once, like he understands that better than he should. Without another word, he holds a bottle out to you. “You don’t have to talk. Just sit. Let me be quiet with you.”

You take it, the cool glass brushing against your hand. The silence that follows isn’t awkward it’s grounding. Somewhere, a gull cries; a mechanic’s radio hums low from across the hangar.

“You ever notice,” he murmurs, eyes still on the horizon, “how quiet everything gets after a flight? Like the sky’s still catching its breath.”

You glance at him. “You like the quiet?”

“Sometimes,” he says with a faint smile. “Sometimes it feels like a place I can finally hear myself think.”

He looks over then, studying you in the golden light. “You look tired,” he adds gently. “The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.”

You exhale, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “You always this good at reading people?”

He shakes his head, smiling wider now. “No. Just you.”

He sips his tea, voice softer. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just breathe. That’s enough.”

The hangar grows dimmer, the air cooler. He sets his bottle down beside him and pats the spot next to it.

“Sit,” he says again, eyes kind. “World’ll still be there in the morning. Right now, this is enough.”

And somehow, with the hum of crickets outside and the smell of metal and sugar in the air, it is.

In Bob’s world, quiet isn’t emptiness it’s peace. And for the first time all day, you stop holding your breath.