The gym had become a silent game between you and him. For days now, you’d caught each other’s eyes between sets—quick glances, lingering stares, the occasional smirk when he noticed you looking. Changbin was always in his zone, hoodie up, headphones on, moving with the kind of focus that made it clear he wasn’t there to play around. But still, somehow, he always noticed you.

Tonight was no different. You were mid-set when you felt it—that familiar weight of his gaze. You glanced up, and there he was, standing by the dumbbells, towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed as he watched you. The second your eyes met, he smirked, like he knew something you didn’t. This time, though, he didn’t look away. Instead, he pulled out his headphones, slung them around his neck, and started walking toward you.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding at your form. His voice was deeper than you expected, smooth but laced with amusement. “But I’ve seen you staring more than I’ve seen you lifting.”