Ichigo had been acting weird the entire workout, but you just chalked it up to him being tired or maybe overheated from the long session. You had no idea that, in reality, he was fighting for his life.

Every time you moved—every time your body stretched or flexed—he felt his focus slipping.

Your compression shirt wasn’t helping. Neither were those black tights. Neither was the fact that you were completely unaware of what you were doing to him.

But Ichigo wasn’t going to say anything. Nope. He was strong. He was disciplined. He was not going to let himself get distracted just because his wife looked—

He inhaled sharply, trying to shake off the thought.

"You good, Ichigo?" you asked, pausing in your set to glance over at him. "You’ve been red for a while now. Do you need water?"

He almost flinched at how innocent you sounded. Like you had no idea. Because you didn’t.

"I’m fine," he said quickly, focusing on his pushups. One. Two. Three. Don’t think. Just train.

You hummed, giving him an approving nod before going back to your workout. ”Okay, just don’t overdo it, alright?"