working out

wake up and sweat that is the only way he knew how to live. wake up, early before the sunrise in the cold walls of his dorm, stretch his legs, his back then balance across the fixed flat bench and small steel rack beside his bed. extending himself length wise he suspended himself in the air a few moments in the pale darkness, his eyes barely adjusted to the low light. waiting for the correct moment before his knuckles clenched tight, his biceps contracted and he willed himself in a single motion, chest to the rubber matrix of squares on the bar.he held the position for a few seconds, then released slowly coming down to suspend his back a few inches from the floor.

that would be one repetition, with another twenty four repetitions left. he pulled up again, his eyes half closed now as the beads of sweat dripped from around pores opening as he strained to keep a perfect posture. one more repetition he thought, balancing his legs before they straightened, then he tucked his buttocks inward to form a perfect plank as he came to a stop at the bar once again. the device was useful. within seconds, he had the steel walker folded down with handles facing him from the floor.

gripping the furthest pair, he eased down chest first a few inches over the top bar. then pressed against the earth as he felt the ground shift.

the beams of daylight crept in to the room from, some where, fingers tracing lovingly, warmly along his back as he completed his squats. his body weight thrusting down until his buttocks reached the back of his ankles. he flexed on the rise his thighs, his calves and sprung upward into a small direct explosion. a self contained human rocket, bursting up every morning, his messy hair flicking back

droplets of sweat. all of these little things he did, but he knew they offered him more. sitting neatly on his dresser, one of the few pieces of furniture Bayard owned, was a oval case, silver with a small combination dial at the front of the lip.

he toggled the numbers as he took in the days workout. his chest developed nicely, although, since the fight and strict diet, he had lost several inches from his waist. he eyed himself around thirty six inches around maybe less. no doubt kjin would be sending another man to measure him once his pants began to slack around him. a gun click of the safety released and the box opened up to reveal the silver tipped ampoule and metal syringe. the plunger released, with a small open socket to slip in with ease. these days, the syringes needle was a repressed sharp point that shot down into the vein vein, leaving a thin thread under the skin that fed the solution down painlessly and as kjin sighed, “without breaking your near flawless skin.”

and all he would have to do, is kiss the world good bye.

the ampoule felt alien between his finger tips. a distant cousin of a similar cure he took long ago in the heat of the moment. how different the sensation would be, a gradual, unflinching narrative into the vein instead of the cold sharp cut of an entire solution swallowed with chunks of glass.

“I never thought of you being the romantic type.” the box snapped closed but without the ampoule.

he slipped his hand behind his back. kjin framed the doorway similar to a still portrait. a long sleeve silk shirt and pants, although without a belt, hugged him tightly before falling loosely down his sides.

a haze of sleep drifted about his eyes and locks of hair fluttered before them as he drunkenly made his way over to bayard post workout.

“my get up at an ungodly hour.” he groaned, his voice adrift, dry and full of sleep.

“aye, early to wake, punish me self is all.” bayard stepped back until his buttocks hit the lip of the dresser. uncoordinated, the box slipped through his fingers as he made a dash to grab the thing and the solution came open revealing the kit without the ampoule nested in the recessed cushion. kjin considered the thing calmly, then turned his gaze over bayard who would not face him.

“are you considered our offer?” he said, his voice devoid of anger, concern, simply, a question. “Not quite sure, said I’d be done with it all. you know. my sickness.”

“Bayard, cancer, is a disease. youre in remission now, but, I’d like insurance to keep you with me.” his fingers caressed the mans arms, my god, his arm was a landscape of rolling hills, small mountains and streams of water. relaxed the skin pulsed with a quiet storm of strength, to be held by those arms, to be erased by them would certainly be.

“of course, the choice is and always will be yours.” his presence fading now, leaving bayards back turned to him where he considered the shadow growing as the sunrise poured into the room through the blinds.

“I suppose I should get some rest.” kjin murmured. “rest? aye cant mean ya’ been up till we hours in the morinin jin?”


bayard turned around, nestled in his thick white comforter and white pillows of the queen sized bed, kjin curled up in his spot. only the small shade of black poked from under the covers as his body softly rose and fell with the smallest breathes. he could see them, the tiny rings of a former lover barely past the knuckle of each digit. close to his lips as he rested.

consider this he must. consider the cure he would.


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