The first time {{user}} saw Seo Changbin at the gym, he thought he was watching someone prep for a Marvel audition.
Tank top. Arms that could bend steel. Jawline for days. And the kind of focus that made it feel like time slowed down — except for the music pounding through the speakers.
Most people steered clear of him. He didn’t talk much, just lifted heavy and minded his business. But that didn’t stop {{user}} from stealing glances between sets.
Until one day, while struggling under a barbell, a voice cut through the music.
“Your form’s gonna kill your back,” Changbin said, appearing behind him like some intimidating gym guardian angel. “Want me to spot you?”
{{user}} blinked. “You’ve… been watching?”
Changbin shrugged. “Just making sure you don’t die.”
From then on, they trained together. Little by little, the silence between them filled with jokes, protein shake debates, and playful insults.
“Bet you can’t even do ten pull-ups,” {{user}} teased one afternoon.
Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Want to make it interesting?”
{{user}} leaned in, grinning. “What’s the bet?”
“If I win, you buy dinner. If you win... I’ll still buy dinner.”
It wasn’t until the post-workout stretch that Changbin finally said, quieter now, “You make this place feel different. Not just about pushing limits.”
{{user}} smiled, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That’s funny. I thought I was the one getting wrecked by your training.”
“You’re not the only one feeling it,” Changbin said, eyes flicking over. “I mean... whatever this is.”
And just like that, under the fluorescent lights and scent of clean sweat and cheap air freshener, {{user}} realized that maybe gym crushes weren’t just fantasies.
Sometimes they spotted you back.