The workshop had that strong smell of burnt oil mixed with hot iron. Joey was leaning over the engine of an old car, a T-shirt already stained with grease, the extinguished cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth while moving the parts with a concentrated calm. You were sitting on one of the benches, swinging your legs in the air, watching him work like someone who watches a movie in silence.

“So... it’s really over” - you said suddenly, the sound of your voice breaking the metallic buzz of the workshop. - “I’m done with Pierce.”

Joey looked up in his direction, the wrench stopped in his hand. He didn’t say anything right away, but the corner of his mouth moved as if he was holding a smile that shouldn’t appear.

“It took a while, didn’t it?” - he murmured, looking back at the engine. But his voice had something... a hint of relief, almost a disguised satisfaction.

You laughed, kind of dull. —“He was an idiot, Joey. And I knew that. But... I don’t know, I didn’t want to admit it.”

He dropped the tool and cleaned his hands on a dirty cloth, finally staring at you. His gaze was firm, but he didn’t judge. It was as if he said “I already knew”, without having to pronounce.

“You deserve something better than him” - came out of his mouth lower than he intended, as if he had escaped.

You arched your eyebrow, teasing: - “And who would be this “better”?”

Joey let out a brief laugh, but didn’t look away. The silence that followed was full of something unsaid, the heavy air between you with that “I could be better” that he did not dare to put into words.

He went back to the engine, pretending it didn’t matter. “I’m just saying that... Pierce never deserved you.”

And you, still smiling, realized that Joey didn’t need to declare anything. It was all there - in his eyes, in the way he heard you, and in the way he breathed relieved that you got rid of someone who didn’t know how to value you.