The first rays of sunlight bled softly through the half-closed blinds, casting golden bars across Tyler’s cluttered apartment. The air buzzed faintly with the hum of the fridge and the occasional drip from the leaky kitchen faucet—a problem he kept meaning to fix but always forgot about once he left for the gym. Tyler stirred under a gray fleece blanket sprawled across his too-small couch. His phone balanced precariously on the armrest, vibrated loudly against the faux leather.

He jolted awake, blinking sleep from his eyes as he reached for it. 6:15 AM. Right on time. Ty stretched, his muscles rippling as if waking up along with him, and rubbed his face, feeling the faint grit of yesterday’s sunscreen still clinging to his skin. With a yawn that cracked his jaw, he padded into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. The apartment smelled faintly of vanilla protein powder and coconut-scented moisturizer—his own signature cocktail.

The counter was a chaotic shrine to his lifestyle. Protein tubs—half-empty and mismatched—jostled for space next to shakers, vitamin bottles, and an untouched pack of kale he’d optimistically bought three days ago. A green blender sat like a trophy in the middle.

He tossed a banana into the blender, followed by a generous scoop of chocolate protein powder. He grabbed a jug of almond milk from the fridge, sniffing it—because he still wasn’t entirely sure what spoiled almond milk smelled like—and poured until the liquid barely covered the powder. He added a spoonful of peanut butter, a sprinkle of chia seeds, and—after a brief hesitation—a handful of spinach that he knew he wouldn’t taste but added for the aesthetic.

The blender roared to life, rattling the counter as Ty checked his form in the reflection of the microwave again, turning sideways to inspect his abs. He was shirtless, wearing only grey and long joggers. When the smoothie hit the right consistency—a thick, peanut-butter—he killed the blender and poured it into his trusty shaker cup.