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Bruno has a problem.
It comes in the form of a weightlifter; tall and aloof with long hair like starlight. Even his resting scowl is attractive. Bruno doesn’t even know his name, he simply thanks his luck any time he sees Mr. Starlight when he goes in for a workout.
At first Bruno watches him from afar. It’s attention grabbing when he steps onto the deadlift platform, loading the barbell with enough plates that he’s bound to be lifting nearly twice his bodyweight. Long hair pulled up into a messy bun exposes his nape, Bruno has lost count of how many times he’s traced visual lines from that nape and over his spine, down along his legs that were always dressed in black joggers. Everything he wears is black, now that Bruno thinks about it.
But after a few weeks he can’t take it anymore. Mr. Starlight puts off a near-tangible forcefield that says “fuck off” to anyone who gets too close, even when he’s not paying attention. It’s kept Bruno from striking up conversation, that is, until he shows up in a band tee that Bruno actually recognizes. It’s the icebreaker he’s been hoping for, so he takes it. While his crush crouches by the incline benches, rifling around in his drawstring bag, Bruno strikes.
“I really like your shirt.”
“Hm?” Mr. Starlight stands back up to his full height, and Bruno feels himself fall even harder. He’s never realized just how tall this man really is. “Oh, thanks.”
Bruno finds himself staring up at sunset-colored eyes framed by a strong brow and scrambles to think of something else to say. “They’re one of my favorite bands.”
“Yeah, they’re cool. But uhh,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “sorry. I gotta be somewhere.”
The moment is gone, and Bruno’s crush beelines out of the free weight room.
It’s a loss that Bruno replays when he’s feeling sorry for himself. But the interaction wasn’t a complete failure. They awkwardly acknowledge each other now, when they happen to make eye contact. It’s the silent nod, a gesture given when it would be rude to ignore someone but you don’t know them well enough to actually start a conversation. But any attention from Mr. Starlight is welcome for Bruno, and his crush gets worse.
It surprises Bruno when he sees a familiar figure at the coveted squat rack on a busy Monday evening. Usually he only runs into his crush on less busy days, or on the weekends. But here he is, back flexing from pinching his shoulder blades together so he can support the barbell. Bruno valiantly ignores the view when Mr. Starlight hits the bottom of his squat, thinking instead about finding a way to talk to him. There’s a wait for nearly every bench and rack at this point, Monday nights are always swamped. Bruno gets an idea and waits for his crush to hook his bar back on the rack before speaking.
“Hey! You’re lucky you got one of the squat racks, do you mind if I work in with you?”
Again he’s fixed with that stare, something between far away stoicism and minor irritation. There’s a fine sheen of sweat on his skin that glimmers in the bright gym lighting.
“That’s okay, you can just take it.” When he lifts his arms to tighten his ponytail Bruno does his best not to glance at the smooth skin that is revealed under the dramatically cut armholes of his muscle tank. “That was my last set.”
Bruno doesn’t let his friendly smile falter, and thanks him for letting him have the rack. Like the last time, Mr. Starlight leaves right afterward. Bruno quietly sulks through the rest of his workout, and does his cooldown cardio with zero enthusiasm by walking on a treadmill. Normally he’d get in a run and call it a night, but he’s too busy feeling sorry for himself and plods along at a sluggish 2.5mph. A large TV screen placed high up on a nearby wall is running through a slide show, sharing social media posts that use the gym’s hashtags. It’s the same posts that have been up for a while, until one catches his eye.
It’s Mr. Starlight casually posing for a gym mirror selfie that looks suspiciously like a thirst trap. Actually, scratch that. It’s definitely a thirst trap. He sits on one of the incline benches, legs spread wide, confidently reclined back on the bench, head slightly tilted. One hand holds his phone in a way that hides most of his face, while the other gently lifts up his shirt to expose his navel.
Bruno snatches his phone up from the cupholder on the treadmill, opening Instagram quicker than he can think, and types out the username on the screen, moody325. His heart jumps at the rows of images featuring his crush before looking at the bio, finally having a name for the mystery man that won’t get out of his head. “Leone.” Bruno murmurs it to himself, so distracted that he has to stand on either side of the still-moving belt as he scrolls.
Eventually Bruno just turns the treadmill off and leaves without doing a single stretch, he’s too wrapped up in stalking Leone’s feed. He sits in his car in the gym parking lot for nearly half an hour. The account isn’t carefully curated, there’s no particular focus except what seems to be his daily life; plenty of selfies, gym posts like short videos of him benching or doing sit ups, food pics. He’s absolutely enthralled however when he comes across photos of his nights out, masculine facial features made striking with makeup and dramatic outfits all in black; fishnet, straps, studs, sometimes platform boots (how tall would he even be in those?!). Bruno is vaguely familiar with The Zipper Pole, the goth club in the location tag, even if he’s not much for going out himself.
When he’s too overwhelmed by thoughts to continue he throws his phone in his passenger seat and thuds his forehead against the steering wheel. What am I supposed to talk to him about? The only thing we have in common is lifting. He silently muses as he finally gets uncomfortable with the feeling of dried sweat sitting on his skin, and drives home. The comfort of the road at night helps a thought bloom in his mind; so ill timed that he misses the turn for his road. He remembers the BeachBody coach subscription he’s failed to cancel for months now, and the Shakeology packages sitting in his trunk.
Perfect strangers DM me about this stuff all the time, he thinks, I’ll just use that!
*
“Why is my gym crush trying to sell me protein?”
Leone sits at a café table at his favorite brunch spot, frowning at his phone. His friend Mista sits across the table, raises his eyebrows in surprise, and talks with half of his mouth full of bagel.
“Wait, seriously?”
Plush lips twist the side in something like thought. Leone holds his phone out for Mista, the DM on the screen, clear for him to see.
Mista gulps the bagel down and offers an exaggerated grimace. “Yeah, that’s a sales pitch right there. But hey! That means he saw your thirst trap.”
“Yeah, and it backfired.” He withdrew his arm so he could look at the message again. “Didn’t expect him to fall for that kind of thing. Not that I know anything about him, except that we like the same band. But he looks smarter than that.”
“How does someone look smart?”
“Y’know,” Leone taps to open his keyboard while he thinks, “his face looks intelligent, his hair looks nice and I’ve never seen a wrinkle in his clothes before-” He glances up to see Mista’s shit eating grin and rolls his eyes. “What?”
“Dude, you have it bad. Are you gonna reply?”
“Yeah, but I normally block DMs like this. How do you even respond to that? Who the hell uses a heart emoji right away?” Leone grumbles, staring down at his phone like it’ll magically type out a response itself.
“I don’t know, play along or something. How long can the guy possibly talk about protein for? Just let him get his pitch out and then start up a conversation about something else.”
“I guess.” Leone taps away, trying to ignore the odd message and enjoy brunch but his crush’s reply is nearly immediate.
“Man he’s a shitty salesman. He’s probably lost more money than he’s made.” Mista comments after reading. “In a weird way, I think he’s trying to flirt.”
“What? No. Definitely not.”
“Do you normally tell guys how strong they look? Never, that shit’s gay.”
“Mm,” Leone murmurs to himself, “it’s pretty gay.”
“Shit, that’s not what-”
“How are you both so bad at this?”
Leone scowled. “Fuck off. He’s not even flirting, he’s just trying to sell me shit.” He leaves the DM while he still has a shred of dignity and looks at his profile instead. “Okay, his name is Bruno. Oh no.”
Mista sips his mimosa and waves his free hand around like he’s asking a question.
Leone’s gaze flickers up and down the screen. Again he opts to hand the phone over rather than explain himself. Mista takes it and looks, and immediately understands. Bruno seems to enjoy the water, a lot of his photos are him on various boats or sunbathing on the beach. Most noticeably, aside from dazzling blue eyes and the sharp cut of his jaw, is an incredibly intricate series of elegant tattoos accentuating his pecs, flowing down his slim waist, wrapping around to the small of his back and dipping below his swim trunks in the front. Mista gives a long, low whistle.
“It’s your ultimate weakness.”
He takes back his phone looking somewhat panicked. “I knew he was hot but I didn’t know about the tattoo covering one third of his fucking body.”
“I wonder if it frames his dick?”
“Please shut up.” Leone rubs his face hard and ignores the DM that comes in, he’s embarrassed himself enough for one day. What he doesn’t ignore is the notification for Bruno following him.
Instantly he follows back.
*
The next few weeks are… well, they’re something.
They don’t act like strangers at the gym anymore. There’s an odd connection there, something that Bruno can’t quite put his finger on. It begins the first time that they run into each other after he reached out on Instagram. Leone makes first contact this time, catching him doing a warm-up set on the leg press.
“Can I work in with you?”
There Leone is, in his long-limbed, muscular chested glory. Bruno catches his gaze like he always does, but something begs for attention in his peripheral vision; the raw edge of his shirt barely skims his navel.
“Sure.” He answers a little too quickly, extends his legs so he can lock the press in place. “I was just finishing a warmup.”
“Cool. How much weight are you adding?”
“Oh, twenty-five pounds on each side. Thank you.”
Bruno would pinch himself right now if it weren’t absolutely noticeable. Mr. Starlight, err, Leone, is loading up his plates for him. Once they are in place he unlocks it so he can ease the weight down and start working.
Leone stands by and watches carefully, more experienced eyes carefully evaluating Bruno’s form. When Bruno finishes his set and locks the press, the first thing he hears is that deep timbre correcting his form.
“Don’t go so low, it puts unnecessary pressure on your lower back.”
Bruno can’t help but be a bit flustered, he didn’t realize he was being watched so closely. “Oh, yeah thanks!”
They alternate, with Leone using the weight Bruno's lifting as a warmup. Bruno watches quietly, and doesn’t speak much when switching out. They’re so entirely different as people that it makes Bruno anxious. He’s no wallflower but he’s definitely not extroverted either. But he’s never had trouble making conversation, not like this. Bruno decides when in doubt, go for flattery.
When it comes time to unload the plates, Bruno stops at the 45lb plates. He could move them, sure, but seeing Leone move them would be better. “Leone? Can you take these off for me?”
“What?” He looks up from his phone, tone and face looking strangely flustered.
Bruno realizes he’s not pointing at the plates like he meant to. “Uh. The plates! Sorry, I was talking about the plates.”
He’s relieved when Leone huffs a laugh, but he’s still mortified. He follows Leone to the mats and when the other man takes a swig from his blender bottle Bruno remembers the only other thing they’ve actually talked about.
“What are you drinking?”
“Hm?” Leone glances over and Bruno might actually die if he has to watch how his adam’s apple bobs as he drinks any longer. He takes his final sip and replies. “Chocolate Gold Standard.”
“I’ve had that one before but Shakeology’s chocolate is way better, it’s not chalky at all.”
Leone shrugs as he sets the bottle on the ground and goes to grab dumbbells. “I mix my protein with water so it all tastes like shit anyway.”
Bruno feels the conversation thread snap. Based on his Instagram, their shared interests are few and far between and their social circles don’t intersect at all. He struggles through the rest of the workout, socially and physically. Their next few meetings go just about as well.
*
Leone has never met a person quite like Bruno. He’s like a rubix cube and Leone has never been good at those, despite hours of trying as a kid. He’s handsome in a charming way until Leone catches a peek of swirling ink dipping below his waistband, which instantly elevates him to unfairly-hot status. But he never would’ve taken him for the type to have so many friends, not when he’s so severely weird. Bruno is so viscerally strange that if he weren’t attractive it would be off putting.
And then there’s the whole Shakeology thing.
Nothing adds up. Who goes this far to try and rope another person into some stupid multilevel marketing scheme? It’s usually one DM loaded with enough emojis to put Egyptian hieroglyphs to shame and then they sheepishly concede defeat after being told “no”. On top of that Leone is fairly certain Bruno has no idea what he’s talking about, considering the one time Leone entertained the subject.
“It’s whey protein isn’t it?”
Bruno froze. There was nothing behind those wide ocean blues as they darted left and then right. It was obvious that he has no idea, and if Leone’s guess was correct he definitely didn’t pay attention to the ingredients when he was getting absorbed in a quick money scheme. After peeling a sweat-soaked piece of black hair from his cheek and tucking it behind his ear, he answered. “I think so!”
Maybe Leone should just pick up fishing, or surfing, or any of the other water-based activities Bruno seems to enjoy. But he can’t get past the worry that Bruno sees him as a sale, that he’s being played the long game, or even worse that he’s being led on.
On a slow Friday evening he gets to the gym as Bruno is heading into the locker room. Something inside Leone snaps when he sees that lithe frame dressed in designer gym wear, which he had no idea existed until recently, disappear through the doorway. He can’t take whatever this is anymore, if it even is anything. Leone has no idea if he’s genuinely being flirted with or if he’s just Bruno’s potential downline, and he’s done trying to figure it out himself. He quickly crosses the gym floor, and goes into the locker room.
It takes some time to wander through the rows of lockers and benches, but he’s relieved that no one else seems to be in here. He finds Bruno sitting on the last row of benches, bent forward to tie his shoes. His tank top clings to his skin from the sweat and when he looks up in surprise his tanned face is splotched red. That’s right, he always finishes with cardio. Leone thinks. No one deserves to look that cute when they’re sweaty.
“Leone! Hey, how are you?” Bruno sits up straight and gives him that smile that reveals his one dimple.
But Leone can’t let himself get distracted by the other man’s charm. His eyebrows pinch together and he spits out the first thing that comes to mind. “What the hell is going on?”
The dimpled smile falters slightly. “Pardon me?”
“I mean like,” he motions to the air between them, “between us. We’ve been talking a lot and some of the shit you say makes me think that- I don’t know. That there’s something there. But if I’m just your pawn in that stupid MLM scheme, then tell me now.”
“Oh! No! No, no no-” Bruno springs to his feet, waves his hands in defense and takes a step closer. “Look, it’s just- I was trying to-” he presses his lips into a thin line and shakes his head. “The Shakeology thing? I don’t care about it. It’s honestly been sitting in my car because I forgot I even bought it.”
Leone works his jaw before responding. “Okay.”
“You always seemed like you didn’t want to talk to me and I couldn’t figure out a way to actually hold up a conversation with you. When I saw your Instagram I needed an excuse to DM you.”
As Bruno explained himself, Leone’s expression slowly morphed from anger to mild disbelief. “Are you telling me that you used Shakeology as an ice breaker?”
Bruno stuttered for the briefest of moments before pausing. Now that it was all laid out verbally, he realized how entirely stupid his plan was. “Yes.”
“Okay, but why?”
In the deepest recesses of himself, Bruno could feel the entirety of his soul cringe. “Leone, how do I even say this. I wanted to get to know you.”
“You could’ve done that without the weird scheme.”
“I was nervous.”
Leone’s face frowns harder in confusion.
“I’ve been thinking about you for weeks, and you’re really attractive.” Bruno’s face reddens even further. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“Oh.” His entire body lights up with shock and the facts begin to line up. The only thing he can do is stand there and shift his weight from one foot to the other. A thick silence stretches between them. Neither of them have any idea of what to say. Leone combs through his brain. He doesn’t feel right leaving Bruno out on a limb, so he decides to follow up his aggressive attitude with some amount of finesse.
“I was planning on going out to The Zipper Pole after my workout. Do you wanna come with me?”
Bruno stares with wide eyes for a moment before smiling again. “Yes. But, you’re sure you want me to go with you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m the one who asked you.”
“I own one set of black clothing, and it’s my funeral suit.”
Leone barks out a laugh, with an echo that bounces off of the cement walls. He stifles it with a hand over his mouth, but Bruno’s in awe all the same. Leone has never smiled at him like that before, much less laughed. It’s almost odd to see when his face is typically so severe, but he makes a silent wish to see more of it.
“That doesn’t surprise me at all. But that’s fine, I think I have something that would fit you.” Lavender lemonade eyes flit over his shorter, lightly muscled frame. “How do you feel about corsets?”
Bruno’s never considered himself in one before, but the thought is absolutely intriguing. “I’m willing to try one on at least.”
Leone hums and whips out his phone. Not a second later Bruno’s pocket vibrates.
“Be at my place in two hours.”
“?!” Bruno opens the DM, and oh wow that’s his address and actual phone number-
“Don’t be late. I won’t let you off the hook for it even if you’re hot.”
“I’m what?!” His gaze snaps up in time to see the tip of his long ponytail flourish as Leone leaves the row of lockers. Bruno stands there, feet frozen to the floor. In the near distance he hears the door to the locker room fall shut and when it does he can’t help but break out into an excited grin while thinking to himself.
Getting roped into Shakeology wasn’t a complete waste of money after all.