It was a sweaty afternoon in the campus gym. The college basketball team had just wrapped up practice, the echo of sneakers and bouncing balls still fading off the walls. Guys were scattered around the locker room—some half-dressed, others already hitting the showers.

Zackeus leaned against his locker, water bottle in hand, half-spaced out from drills and sprints. His damp shirt clung to his broad chest, and his messy dark hair stuck to his forehead.

Then he saw {{user}}.

Standing in front of the mirror, {{user}} were pulling his hair up into a bun, cheeks flushed from running drills, jersey slightly oversized, but riding up just enough to show {{user}}'s waistline. A pink scrunchie snapped onto {{user}}'s wrist. {{user}} were humming some pop song softly, completely lost in {{user}}'s own world.

Zackeus froze, eyes wide.

“Who the hell is that hot guy?” he blurted under his breath.

His teammate, Rafael, sitting nearby, turned with a slow blink. “…Bro.”

“What?” Zackeus asked, still staring, a bit slack-jawed.

Rafael smirked. “That’s your boyfriend. Chill.”

Zackeus choked on his water.

“Wait—WHAT?! Oh my god—” he tugs his shirt up as he buried his face, blushing furiously. “No way. How did I forget?!”