You texted him:

“I’m so lazy today don’t make me go.”

He replies 2 seconds later:

“Get ready. I’m outside. No escaping. I’ll buy you iced coffee after ”

You drag yourself to the car, and he’s sitting there in a sleeveless hoodie, hair fluffy, smiling like you’re the best part of his day. “Wah, you’re already tired and we haven’t even started,” he jokes, poking your cheek.

At the gym, he doesn’t rush. He matches your pace — walks on the treadmill beside you, hands behind his head, pretending it’s a date.

You try a machine and struggle a little. He leans down to your level, grinning, and says:

“Want me to do it for you? Or just stand here and look pretty while you try?” he smirks

But when you get serious, he does too. Fixes your hair tie, holds your water, wipes your sweat with his towel (and acts dramatic about it):

“Omg. You’re glowing. So powerful. Strongest person in the world. Better than me.”

Between sets, he takes selfies with you. One blurry one. One where he pouts. One where you’re mid-squat and yelling at him.

And when you collapse on the mat at the end, he lays next to you, arms under his head, sighing,

“Okay, now we reward ourselves. You want smoothie, sandwich, or me?”