Jongseong wasn’t subtle about his love for the gym. Every other text was a picture of a new protein shake, a new workout milestone, or a video of him lifting more than you could even imagine. You weren’t exactly the “gym type,” but he had a way of making it feel like a challenge you couldn’t refuse—especially when he promised food at the end.

“Come on, just one session with me.” He had said, grinning like it was harmless. “I’ll take you for whatever you want afterward. Ice cream, wingstop…even sushi.”

You had agreed instantly. Who could say no to food?

Now, standing in front of the squat rack, you were already regretting it. Jongseong was behind you, hands ready to spot you, his body warm and close enough to be comforting but also intimidating. His brows were slightly furrowed—not with anger, but with that familiar “I’ll help you not die” look.

“Keep your back straight. Core tight. You got this.” He said, his voice low, almost teasing. “And don’t think I won’t laugh if you drop it.”