Neal had noticed something was wrong long before he admitted it.

The silence between them felt wrong now—heavy where it used to be easy. Once, he'd have filled it with terrible jokes and worse puns. Now the words stuck somewhere behind his teeth. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe it wasn't.

Either way, he hated it.

Leaning against a nearby wall, hands buried in his pockets, Neal glanced over from the corner of his eye. The distance between them felt bigger than a few feet.

"Oi," he muttered, forcing a hint of his usual grin. "You still mad, or just givin' me the silent treatment?"

The joke landed flat. Neal sighed and looked away.

"Look, I dunno what I did, but I'm not great at lettin' things stay broken, eh?" His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "If you're gonna keep avoidin' me, I suppose I'll just keep hangin' around like a spare part."

He waited, hoping for anything—a word, a look, some sign the gap between them wasn't permanent. He didn't know how to fix it.