“C’mon, push!”

“You got this!”

My head and muscles are on fire, the strain in my nerves practically tangible.

Damn it, push!

220 pounds or 99.79 Kg of weight on a bench.

The cold, hard metal feels like it’s heating up under my arms, thanks to the ridiculous amount of energy I’m putting into this lift.

The gym’s alive with the usual sounds: idle chatter, clanking weights, the occasional thud of something heavy hitting the ground. The air conditioning’s on, but the heat in the room betrays any sense of trust I had in it. Bummer.

It’s dark outside, and beyond the windows—

Wait, I need to focus.

“Go, go, go!”

The one yelling like a gorilla is none other than Jerome Daniels, a good-looking young sport with a moppy hairstyle.

The other, sporting a buzzcut, taking a sip of his bottle, is the famous Takeru…

Takeru…

…Uh, I forgot his last name.

The pressure on my wrists begins to double over, impacting my ability to raise the weight.

Go up.

Go up.

Pouring every ounce of strength I have into it, I manage to explosively push the bar up, racking the weight with a satisfying clang.

The sound of metal banging against metal rings against my ear.

Before I can even take a breath of relief, my still-trying-to-recover-chest, is slammed with the powerful hands of the human gorilla known as Jerome.

“BWUH—!!”

“Knew you could do it!” He says, his tone betraying such a violent action.

I almost choke as I sit up. I’m coughing and spitting like I just got punched in the gut.

“Guh—! Guffaw! Guffaw!”

Turning my face towards him, wiping my mouth from the torrent of spit I just released, I yell, “What the hell was that for?!”

“A celebration! You’ve finally hit a new PR!” He says proudly, like he didn't just nearly turn my lungs into pancakes.

“Celebrating does not require you to slam your arms into my ribcage!!”

If that weight didn't kill me, those hands might’ve. Seriously, I felt like I died for a second.

I’m aware that guys often strike each other to get the adrenaline pumping throughout the body, but that’s supposed to happen before the set.

Not after I’m already half-dead!

“Ah, lighten up, dude.” Takeru sighs as he passes me a water bottle. I catch it, the drops of dew seeping into my heated hand. It’s cold, just the right temperature where I can hold it with no issue.

“Yeah, I’m just excited for you, is that so wrong?” Jerome says, leaning casually against the bench, grin wide.

“It’s only natural for your best buddies to get all riled up when you hit a new PR. You’re getting stronger, yknow?”

I sigh, standing up and wiping my face with a pink towel, the small bristles rubbing against the contours of my face.

“Hah, whatever. It’s fine.”

Honestly, it’s not worth getting all introspective about. Just move on, forget the small stuff.

“What’s the time, by the way?” I ask, glancing at Takeru.

He fishes a sleek red smartphone from his pocket—the color pops against his dark pants—and checks the screen.

“It’s about 22:40….” He looks at me, then gives a facial expression one would have after having a small ball thrown at his face. “Or, uh, 10:40 PM, in your terms..”

A sigh escapes me.

Again.

Yeah, my lungs are still trying to recover from earlier. That's definitely what it is.

“Guess we don’t have time to get another exercise in, huh?”

“Dude, it’s almost 11:00 on a school night, I need to get home before my mom does a suplex on me,” Jerome says, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

No, you don’t. You just wanna get home and stay up all night playing that new Duty Calls ripoff on your GS5.

“Yeah, aren’t you an exchange student or something? I thought you guys were supposed to be the studious type, not the stay-out-late type. Plus, isn’t your sister gonna get worried?”

Takeru adds.

“For the gazillionth time, she’s not my sister, she’s a relative, though she barely qualifies as one.”

By now, Jerome’s fully geared up—hoodie on, bag slung over his shoulder—just standing around to eavesdrop.

I’m the only one sitting down on the bench, still holding onto the bottle, like it is some kind of lifeline.

“I got a track meet early in the morning, so I can’t really stay up too late,” Takeru adds, throwing a black puffer around himself.

“Tomorrow's a rest day, right?” Jerome asks.

“Yeah, but right after is a push day, so don’t get too comfy.” Takeru shoots back.

“I hate Fridays.”

A few more minutes pass. We’re currently hypnotized by our phones, scrolling, caught in the weird after-workout haze. I’m sure I saw about 5 adults walk past us, glaring at the youth caught in the curse that plagues their generation.

“Ah, my mom’s here, catch you guys.” He says with a smirk, turning on his heel to the exit.

Yeah, don't even bother hiding your excitement, pal.

Takeru is the next to board his flight, leaving the gym with a simple wave.

Well, he raises his hand, his back facing me.

I’m inclined to yell, ‘Pull up your pants!’ to make him lose some of the mysterious guy aura he’s trying to attain, but it feels like if I even say another word, I’m gonna start seeing colors.

The slow look around I perform gives me a familiar feeling.

I’m all alone.

This particular gym is a 24-hour gym, which is quite the find, but hardly anyone stays till late. Obviously, it’s due to the simple fact that most workouts take 2 hours max, and besides, people have work.

My phone buzzes, a small message popping down from the top of the screen.

---‘where r u?! hungry!’

The message is accompanied by an angry emoji.

It’s not in English, but that’s the best way I could describe it.

I type back the equivalent of ‘Omw’ and hit send.

Sighing for the trillionth time, I stand up.

The gym now feels eerily quiet, save for a few stubborn souls still grinding away.

Two middle-aged men pushing each other on the leg press, a young woman jogging steadily on the treadmill.

It's a stark contrast to just 10 minutes ago, but it's to be expected.

Grabbing my bag, I toss in my water bottle and Bluetooth earbuds, the zip of the bag sounding way louder than it should in the dead silence.

I throw my hoodie over myself, grimacing as the sweaty fabric of my shirt is further pressed against my skin.

All I can think about right now is taking a shower, and…

Damn it. I need to cook, too.

Dragging my tired body across the polished wooden floor, I make my way toward the sliding glass doors at the front. The outside world gleams through them, distorted slightly by the reflections.

Expecting to see a typical American parking lot, my sight is filled with the view of the typical Japanese streetside. The land of the sun.

The cold air hits me the moment the doors open, sharp and biting.

My breath curls into little white puffs in front of my face.

Normally, I'd be freezing my ass off.

But thanks to the intensity of my workout, my body’s still radiating enough heat to handle it.

If I recall earlier, it was going to snow, as it usually does in the winter.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, I take a sharp left, heading down the street. My home isn’t too far. It’s tucked away in the suburban outskirts of the infamous Shinjuku Ward of Tokyo.

A place bustling with massive commercial hubs and administrative buildings, all blanketed by a flood of neon lights and endless advertisements for—if I’m being honest—mostly useless stuff..

Sometimes, my eyes would wander to a video game announcement or console, but other than that, they were usually glued to either my phone or the street in front of me.

My situation of living in another country is quite a basic and uneventful one.

It started around my junior year of high school, when a cultural exchange program with Japan had occurred in my school, for which many students had signed up.

There’s this "Wow, Japan!" hype that tends to blow the mind of the average American teenager.

Personally, I wasn’t really all that hyped.

I signed up on a whim, just on a whim, mind you, I truly wasn't expecting to be chosen, given that my grades weren't stellar, just average grades.

To my surprise, I was selected.

I still remember receiving the email in the middle of a store, with my friends, who had done the shouting in surprise for me.

I’m a cheerful guy, yes, but I only do it in select situations, where it's needed to impact the environment. But most of the time, I’m the typical ‘loner who doesn't care’ about anything.

Anyway, thanks to that, I ended up living in Shinjuku, in a nice house with four bedrooms, a kitchen, and four bathrooms.

Not too shabby.

I’ll admit, at first, the idea of living in Japan had me gassed up—all fired up and ready for a grand new adventure.

But... over time, that hype faded.

I guess that's really how hype works with people. At first, you're really excited about something, then over time, you just become... bored with it. The second it becomes a normal part of your life, it loses its shine. We always chase the things we don’t have—and the moment we do have them, they stop feeling special.

If you really want to value something... it has to stay just out of reach.

At least, that’s what I think.

Typically, foreign exchange programs last about six to twelve months.

But for some reason...

I get the feeling this one’s going to last a little longer.

Making another left, the different colored lights in the district slowly but surely begin to disappear, with regular houses starting to populate the streets.

The thud of my footsteps softly tapping across the pavement is the only sound that remains in this quiet landscape.

What am I going to make tonight?

I’ve left out some chicken to defrost, so maybe I can fry it, throw together a quick curry, and call it Katsu.

..Dammit, I’m forgetting the traditional ‘Eat miso with every meal’ that the Japanese seem to love doing all the time.

Well, actually, to be fair, it's a misconception that they do it all the time. And it’s not like there's anything wrong with it. Miso has a unique property which allows one to be satiated if they drink it right after even a small meal, which is extremely beneficial healthwise. 

So instead of reaching for a second serving of rice, you’re happy with one.

The lack of calories and abundance of nutrients is a plus, too.

Hmm, maybe the curry’ll have to wait a bit.

Kairi might bite my head off, but patience is a virtue.

Clicking my tongue, I begin to reflect on other things that I need to be aware of at the moment. I’ve got a calculus test coming up, so there’s that. I’m going to need to study, but-

Ah, who am I kidding?

You don’t care about all those boring, real-life responsibilities, right?