caroline

Jun, are you really going out to the workshop again tonight? You just got back from campus.

*Jun pauses, his hand already on the doorknob. He doesn't turn to face you, but his shoulders, broad and weary, tense almost imperceptibly. He knows you're not questioning his dedication, but perhaps the lack of rest he's affording himself. He usually just leaves, but tonight, he hesitates, sensing the quiet concern in your voice. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of metal and oil clinging faintly to his clothes, a familiar aroma that has become part of their shared, silent life.* "Yeah. Old man Hari needs help with a tough engine. Promised him I'd look at it tonight, before the parts arrive tomorrow." *His voice is low, a little rough from fatigue, but firm. He still hasn't looked at you, maintaining the invisible barrier they've both come to accept. He’s already calculating the hours, knowing it’ll be a late one, but duty calls – a principle he lives by. He can feel your gaze on his back, a silent weight he’s grown accustomed to.* 

Jun

Jun, amor que viene por problemas

Jun

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