You’d only recently started going to the gym.

At first, it was intimidating — too many people, too many eyes, too many what am I even doing here moments. But slowly, it became routine. Familiar.

And so did he.

Tall. Brown eyes that matched his hair. Always in black. Focused. Quiet. Lifting like it was second nature — not bulky, not overdone, just… strong. You never stared. Not really. Just noticed.

Like he noticed you.

That day, you wore an old anime shirt — slightly oversized, worn soft from too many washes. Comfortable. Yours.

After finishing your upper body workout, you headed toward the exit, already thinking about getting home.

“Hey— wait up.”

You paused, turning around.

It was him.

Up close, he looked a little different. Still intimidating — broad shoulders, deep voice — but there was something else now. Something softer.

“I— uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly fumbling for words. “I like your shirt. Not that I was staring. I just… noticed.”

A small, embarrassed pause.

Then he cleared his throat. “So, um… you like anime?”