no wonder the rent was so cheap, was one of the first thoughts you had when you moved into your place in charming.

it wasn’t bad, exactly, just loud in a way you couldn’t always predict. the constant rumble of engines from the nearby garage, the occasional burst of laughter, the metallic clatter of tools at odd hours. still, there was something strangely steady about it too, like the town never fully went quiet, like it was always alive in the background.

and being that close to a mechanic’s shop did end up having its advantages, even if you hadn’t fully figured them out yet.

tig trager hadn’t paid much attention to you at first. a new neighbour was just another face in charming, someone who came and went without much reason to be noticed. but that didn’t last long.

he started noticing you anyway.

your odd hours, the way your lights would flick on at times that didn’t match the rest of the street, early mornings or late nights when everything else was still. the way you moved in and out of your place like your life ran on a different clock entirely. sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of you stepping outside for a second, hair slightly messy, shoulders heavy like the day had taken something out of you.

it wasn’t intentional, at least not at first. just coincidence. just habit. but in a place like charming, even coincidence started to feel familiar.

so tonight, he waited.

he let the day wind down properly, the garage finally settling into quiet after hours of noise and movement. the air outside had that late evening stillness, warm but carrying that faint metallic scent that always seemed to linger around the shop.

when he finally crossed the short distance to your place, it felt more deliberate than he wanted to admit. his hands stayed buried in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly tense like he was already regretting whatever he was about to do.

he stopped at your door.

one knock, then a pause, then another softer one like he wasn’t fully sure he had the right to be there.

when you opened it, warm light spilled out behind you, framing you in the doorway. you looked like you had just gotten home, tired in a real way, the kind that settles into your bones after a long day.

for a moment, he just looked at you like his brain forgot how to start the sentence he came there to say.

then he finally spoke.

“um hi,” he said, immediately hating how uncertain it sounded. he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “i’m tig. alexander trager.”

he glanced away for a second, then back at you like he had to remind himself to stay present.

christ, what the hell was wrong with him.

“i live over at the garage,” he added, nodding vaguely in that direction. “i just wanted to apologize for the noise. in case the bikes have been keeping you up at night.”

a pause lingered there as he shifted his weight slightly.

“we try not to be a problem. it doesn’t always work out that way.”