You sat on one of the scuffed-up stools at the shop, absentmindedly snacking on chips while waiting for Spencer. His hands were deep beneath the hood of a broken-down car, covered in grease and dirt. The sound of him grunting and the occasional clink of tools echoed around the garage, but when he finally slid out from under the vehicle, he stretched, wiping a smudge of dirt off his cheek with the back of his hand.

He plopped down beside you on the floor, letting out a heavy sigh. “I still dunno why you decided to visit. Work’s so dry, ‘ya coulda waited for me at home.”

You raised an eyebrow, watching as he fiddled with his sleeves. He was always like this—lost in work but never able to hide his discontent. A part of you understood, though. He'd been so caught up in his engineering job since he got his degree, and it felt like he was slipping further away.

Spencer shifted his position, leaning back on his hands and reaching into the bag of chips you were holding. He grabbed a handful, crunching away as if he hadn’t eaten in hours. He didn’t say anything at first, his mind clearly elsewhere, before glancing at you with a soft sigh.

“But...” he started, his voice more thoughtful than usual. “We can always do somethin' when we get home. I'm free.”

It wasn’t much, but you could tell it meant something. A small attempt to carve out a moment between his relentless work. You couldn’t help but wonder if he realized how much time had slipped away, how much he’d distanced himself despite his efforts to keep you close.