The air was thick with the smell of motor oil and the low hum of the garage lights buzzing overhead. The rhythmic sound of tools clinking against metal was the only thing breaking the silence as Steven wiped the sweat from his forehead, stepping back to admire his work on the engine. He had been at it for hours, with Jim hanging around, chatting aimlessly while Larry observed with his usual stoic presence.
It was then that the sound of a car engine rumbled down the street, followed by the screech of brakes as a sleek black sedan pulled up outside the garage. Steven didn't even need to glance outside to know who it was—Kristina, of course. It had become almost routine for her to show up during the late afternoon, especially now that her schedule had gotten busier.
"Looks like she's here," Jim said, grinning and nudging Steven's side. "Better get ready to impress, man."
Steven didn't respond immediately, too distracted by his work. But Jim's words reminded him to wipe his hands on his shirt and put on his usual smirk. Kristina Geem, his long-time crush, was always a presence he couldn't ignore—her beauty, her intelligence, her warmth—it all captivated him.
The car door clicked open, and the sound of heels tapping against the concrete driveway followed. As soon as Kristina stepped inside, the whole room seemed to brighten, her easy smile and confident walk cutting through the dimness like a ray of sunlight. She was a vision, even in the casual outfit of jeans and a simple jacket.
"Well, well, if it isn't the famous mechanic himself," she said with a teasing grin, walking toward Steven as her eyes fell on the bike. "I swear, every time I come down here, you're surrounded by more old junk. How do you survive in this mess?"
Steven gave her a mock offended look. "This 'junk' is my passion, Kristina," he said with a wink. "It's an art form, really."
Kristina rolled her eyes but didn't let go of her smile. "Yeah, right. Anyway, that's not why I'm here." She glanced over her shoulder for a moment before turning back to him. "Actually, I came to invite you and Uncle Larry to something important."
Steven raised an eyebrow. "Something important? What's going on?"
Kristina's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's our ring ceremony, Steven! You know, the one for me and Juilen Alberto." She said his name with a proud smile. "I really want you guys to come—it wouldn't be the same without you there. It's this weekend, so I hope you can make it."
Steven blinked, momentarily thrown off. Juilen Alberto? He hadn't known her relationship with him was so serious. It shouldn't have surprised him—Kristina had always been charming and sought after, but the idea of her in a relationship that wasn't with him hit harder than he expected. He swallowed his emotions, quickly replacing any trace of surprise with his usual smirk.
"Of course, we'll be there," he said, though his tone was lighter than he felt. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Kristina looked pleased, stepping closer to hand him a small, elegant invitation card. "I know Uncle Larry doesn't usually like these things, but I'm hoping you can convince him to come too."
Larry, who had been quietly observing from his corner, grunted. "I'm not the party type, Kristina. You know that. But Steven's got a way of twisting my arm."
Kristina laughed softly, her voice like a melody. "I'll hold you to that, Larry."
Jim, who had been watching the exchange with an exaggerated grin, leaned against the workbench and chimed in, "I think we can handle a party, right, Steven? Maybe it'll be a good distraction from all these greasy bikes and haunted choppers."
Steven shot him a quick grin before turning back to Kristina. "We'll make it a night to remember. And congrats on the ring, Kristina. You and Juilen must be excited."
She smiled, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "We are. But enough about me—what's going on with you? You've been pretty distracted lately. Is it this thing with the bike?" Her tone softened, her concern becoming evident.
Steven waved her off, trying to keep his tone light. "It's nothing. Just some old junk. You know how I get when I'm in the zone. Don't worry about me."
Kristina's eyes searched his face for a moment, her brow furrowed slightly. "Alright, but you promise me you'll be careful? I know you get caught up in these projects, but you don't have to go digging into everything."
Steven gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Promise. Now, how about we get a drink after you finish being the party planner? I think I could use one after all this wrenching."
Kristina smiled again, her warm expression making everything seem a little less heavy. "I'll take you up on that. See you this weekend, Steven." She lingered for a moment, as if she wanted to say more, but instead, she turned and walked toward the door, giving Jim a playful wave before leaving.
The door closed behind her, and Steven stood there for a moment, still holding the invitation in his hand, his mind swirling with thoughts of what was coming next. He glanced over at Larry, who was eyeing him thoughtfully.
"You alright, kid?" Larry asked, his voice gruff but gentle.
Steven sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Just… had a lot on my mind, that's all."
Jim, ever the campy one, broke the tension by winking. "Well, at least you're not spending all your time with spooky old bikes, right?"
Steven chuckled, though it felt hollow. "Yeah. A little bit of normalcy wouldn't hurt."
Steven stepped out of the garage, his hands still slightly
smeared with the grease. The cool evening air hit him like a cold slap to the face, and his mind was still spinning with the conversation with Kristina. She had invited him to the ring ceremony with such genuine excitement, but all Steven could focus on was the fact that Juilen Alberto was her partner—someone else. For the last five years, he had built a quiet, secret hope that one day he'd be the one walking beside her. But now, seeing her so happy with another, the weight of reality hit him harder than he expected.
"Man," he muttered to himself, his voice thick with frustration. "Why does it always happen like this?"
Just as the gloom threatened to settle in, Jim Ward, ever the lighthearted friend, appeared by his side. He was grinning, of course, his expression was always one of mischief.
"Hey, you alright, man? You look like someone just kicked your puppy," Jim joked, his eyes scanning Steven's face with the usual lack of seriousness. "What's got you so down? Kristina got you thinking you're some kind of loser?"
Steven let out a bitter chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. "Yeah, something like that. Just... nothing I expected, you know?"
Jim raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the depth of his friend's frustration, but he wasn't one to leave things heavy for long. "Well, let's do something about that, huh? Ain't no use in sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. Let's go hit the market. I hear there's a bar with wings that might just cure your broken heart."
Steven shot him a look. "Wings, huh? That's your idea of comfort?"
"Works for me," Jim replied with a smirk. "Besides, if it helps, I can tell you a joke or two about her that'll make you laugh."
Steven gave a small shake of his head. "You're insane, man. But... whatever. I could use a distraction."
Jim slapped him on the back. "That's the spirit! You'll feel better in no time, my friend. Just follow my lead."
With that, the two of them set off, walking into the town center. The bustling marketplace, with its streetlights casting a soft yellow glow on the cobbled roads, felt like a world away from the darkness creeping at the edges of Steven's mind. People were out shopping, laughing, living their normal lives, and for a moment, Steven almost felt like he belonged again.
Jim was, as always, the life of the party, cracking jokes left and right. As they walked past a group of teenagers in the park, Jim shouted, "Hey, kids, you want to hear a funny story? Why did the bike refuse to start?"
The teenagers turned to him, confused.
"Because it was tired!" Jim yelled with a laugh, leaving the kids groaning and shaking their heads as they walked away.
Steven couldn't help but chuckle, the sound surprisingly easy to summon. His mind, at least for the moment, was distracted from the weight of his feelings. Jim was like that—always finding a way to break through the tension, even if it meant cracking a bad joke. It didn't fix anything, but it lightened the mood.
"Man, you're something else," Steven said, his mood lifting a little with every joke. "I don't know how you do it, but you somehow make everything better."
"Hey, that's my job," Jim replied with a grin. "To distract you from your life's problems. I'm basically your personal therapist, minus the expensive bills."
They spent more than an hour walking around, trying out different food stalls, laughing at random things, and enjoying each other's company. For the first time that day, Steven felt like he was able to breathe again, the fog in his mind clearing little by little.
As the evening wore on and the streetlights grew dimmer, the two of them made their way back toward home. Jim, always the wanderer, turned toward his house, giving Steven a slap on the back. "You good, man? Need me to stay and do some more 'therapy'?"
Steven smiled, the first real smile he'd managed all evening. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks for the distraction, Jim. You're not so bad for a clown."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Clown? I prefer 'hilarious genius,' but whatever works for you."
"Goodnight, man."
"Later, buddy!"
As Jim disappeared down his street, Steven trudged up the familiar driveway, his mind still turning over Kristina, but at least with less weight. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
The house was quiet, almost too quiet. The dim glow of the living room lamp was the only light in the house, and Steven's eyes immediately fell to the figure slumped on the couch. His Uncle Larry was passed out, three empty bottles of liquor scattered around him on the floor. The smell of cheap whiskey filled the room, and the sight of Larry in this state made a familiar knot tighten in Steven's stomach.
Larry had always been like this, especially since the death of his wife, Anelique. He had never fully recovered from her loss, though he'd never shown it—at least not in a way Steven could understand as a kid. Now, though, it was hard to ignore. Every bottle Larry emptied seemed to chip away at him further.
"Uncle Larry..." Steven muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not again."
With a sigh, Steven kicked the empty bottle away from Larry's hand and walked toward the trash, tossing the rest of the liquor into the bin. He stared at Larry for a moment, feeling the weight of the man's struggles on his shoulders, before moving to the bedroom.
As he walked past the garage, something caught his attention. The chopper. The same bike that had come into their lives in such an unsettling way. It sat there, dark and ominous, just as it had been since that night. But this time, as Steven walked past, he swore he heard something—an engine roaring, low and menacing. His heart skipped a beat, but when he turned, there was nothing there. The garage was empty, silent.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to ignore the sensation. It was nothing. Just his imagination running wild.
Steven moved past the bike and into his room, the door creaking closed behind him. He threw himself onto his bed, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of Kristina and the eerie feelings that seemed to follow the chopper wherever he went.
The last thing he heard before sleep took over was the faint roar of an engine, distant and almost too soft to be real. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore it.
But somewhere in the distance, the darkness was waiting. And it was coming for him.