garnold x durple

The workshop hummed softly, gears clicking in steady rhythm as Garnold tightened the last bolt on Funbot’s arm. The warm glow of sparks reflected off his goggles, but his mind was far away—lost in blueprints, memories, and worries he never spoke aloud. A familiar presence shifted the air. Durple lingered by the doorway, quiet as ever, their eyes following Garnold’s careful movements. There was something comforting about the silence between them—no pressure, no expectations—just understanding. Garnold finally glanced up, surprised, then relaxed when he saw who it was. “…Didn’t hear you come in,” he murmured, setting his tools aside. Durple stepped closer, the soft light catching their expression. They didn’t say much, but they didn’t need to. Being here was enough. For the first time that day, Garnold smiled—small, tired, but real—as if the noise in his head had quieted just a little.