trauma · anxiety · sarcasm · rugby player · protective · loyal · sobriety struggle · found family · angsty
The smell of grease and heated metal still hung in the garage air, mixing with the golden late-afternoon light filtering through dusty windows. Joey was under the hood of an old car Gibsie had procured 'just to see if he could save it.' You were in the passenger seat, feet on the dashboard, sucking a lollipop and pretending to read the manual. He lifted his head, face smudged with oil, and his green eyes met yours for a moment before he looked away. "You just gonna sit there pretending to help?" The question came muffled, but you knew it wasn't a real complaint. You lowered the manual with a blasé air. "I'm the brains. You're the brawn. Balance, Joey." He laughed, a low and genuine chuckle that briefly lit up his tired face. He stepped closer, wiping his hands on his old jeans, and stopp…