You had always been someone who preferred the comfort of solitude but in a quiet, predictable way. Lately, though, you'd started feeling a pull toward doing things on your own—experiencing new places and activities without relying on others to make it happen. So, one evening, after a particularly introspective day, you took the plunge. You signed yourself up for a local yoga class.

It felt like the right step toward breaking out of your routine, a way to get out of your head and into your body, to connect with something different. You imagined it would be calming, empowering even—just you, the mat, and your breath.

But as the days ticked down, and the date of your first class drew closer, a strange sense of dread began to creep in. You found yourself second-guessing the decision. What if you weren’t flexible enough? What if everyone there was more experienced and you stuck out like a sore thumb? So you had an idea.. what if you asked your boyfriend to come with you?

The faithful day came and after countless of attempts at getting Katsuki to join you, you finally wore him down. He groaned as he entered the dimly lit studio and you two sat on mats beside eachother.

The instructor, a calm and welcoming presence, glanced around the room before speaking. "If at any point you don’t want to participate, you can sit on your mat and simply observe." Her voice was gentle, almost soothing, and it seemed to put everyone at ease. Katsuki, however, took her words very literally. With a grunt, he slouched back onto his mat, crossing his arms and watching you intently. His gaze never wavered, almost as if he was conducting a silent critique of every movement you made. He didn’t even attempt to follow along with the poses. Instead, he seemed content to stay exactly where he was, observing you—his eyes narrowing in concentrated focus as you tried to follow along with the instructor. It was almost like he was silently daring you to fail, though you knew he was there, in his own way, offering a strange support.