Morning Pump

It was a chilly autumn morning. The sun decorated everything in a golden light, the birds were chirping, the gentle sound of leaves sounding as the wind ruffled them.

Blake came out of the shower and went to the wardrobe to get dressed, pulling out some sweatpants and t-shirt.

He went downstairs to the smell of bacon, finding his mom cooking breakfast.

“Hey sweetie,” she greeted when she saw him, “how was the party last night?”

“It was fun,” Blake answered, remembering the threesome he had.

“I see you didn’t come back too late” she remarked.

“What gave it away?” he asked.

“The fact that you’re already awake” she responded.

“Well, yeah I came back at around 3, and it’s…” he looked at the clock “10 right now, so I got 7 hours of sleep.”

“Sit down, breakfast is almost ready” Elise instructed.

As Blake sat down, his mom slid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

“Here, you need to be energized,” she added.

Blake dug into the food, the salty-sweet aroma of the bacon filling his nose and making his mouth water. He savored the first bite, the crispy outside giving way to the tender, smoky meat inside. His mom, Elise, bustled around the kitchen, a whirlwind of efficiency and care, her eyes darting between the stove and the clock on the wall.

"Are you going to work on your project today?" his mom asked.

“The one with Vivi?” Blake asked.

“Of course,” Elise confirmed.

"Probably not, although I will hit the gym later and then maybe jam with Nick and Ethan."

"Have you thought of making songs?" Elise asked.

"Actually, we have. We will probably try making one today" Blake responded enthusiastically.

"That's great!" His mother exclaimed.

"Where's dad?" Blake asked in between mouthfuls of food.

"Still sleeping," Elise answered.

Blake shoved the last of his food into his mouth and excused himself. He went to his room, where he grabbed his gym bag and went to the kitchen to prepare his pre-workout. After drinking it he made his way to his car.

When he got in, he turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the gym.

The Gladiator Gym stood as a bastion of iron and sweat, its neon sign flickering in the early morning light. The building was an industrial monolith, all steel and glass, staning in the edge of Mariner's Hollow. The windows were tinted, offering passersby a tantalizing glimpse of the grunts and clangs of heavy weights within. The parking lot was already speckled with cars, each one belonging to someone who had decided to face the day head-on.

Blake Hartley pulled his car into a space and cut the engine. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the thumping bass of the music he had been playing. He took a moment to breathe in the chilly air.

Entering the Gladiator Gym, he felt the familiar thrum of energy that seemed to resonate with the very marrow of his bones. The scent of sweat and metal filled his nostrils as he made his way to the locker room. After changing into his workout gear, he stepped into the sea of chrome and steel, where the walls were lined with mirrors.

Blake began with a warm-up, stretching his muscles. He went to the cable machine, selecting his weight. The lift was tough, his muscles straining with each rep, but he pushed through the burn. After four sets, he left the machine, going over to the dumbbell rack. He selected a pair and went over to the bench. Looking around, he saw that all of the benches were occupied. In one of them, he saw fellow classmate Cruz Delgado in one of them, not exactly surprised by the gym rat training in the morning he approached him. Not someone he usually hang out with, he was the only person he knew out of all of them.

“Hey man, hitting chest?” Blake asked in between Cruz’s sets.

“Yeah, I’ve got 4 sets left,” Cruz said looking up from his phone.

“Hey me too, mind if I use the bench?” Blake asked, nodding towards the bench.

“Not at all” Cruz said standing up

“Can you spot me?” Blake asked.

Cruz looked up, sizing up the weight in Blake’s hands before nodding. “Sure, I got you.”

Blake layed down on the bench. He took a deep breath, letting his chest expand fully, and gripped the dumbbells. With a slow, controlled exhale, he pushed the weights upward, feeling the resistance of the iron against his palms. His arms trembled, but he kept the motion steady, the muscles in his chest and shoulders flexing with each press. The weight felt heavier than usual today — maybe it was the lack of sleep or the tension from the night before, but he wasn’t going to let it win.

Cruz hovered over him, a silent sentinel ready to intervene if needed. His eyes flicked from the weights to Blake’s face, checking for any signs of struggle. The clank of the dumbbells hitting the floor signaled the end of his set. Blake sat up, sweat beading on his forehead, and handed the weights to a waiting gym-goer with a nod of thanks.

"Your turn," Blake said, his voice a little more gruff than intended. He stepped aside, watching as Cruz took his place with the ease of a seasoned athlete. The dumbbells looked almost weightless in his hands as he began his own set of bench presses. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent competition playing out between them. With each lift, Blake felt his muscles tighten, his eyes never leaving the mirror that reflected their synchronized effort.

As Blake finished his last set, he left the weights in the dumbbell rack.

“Hey, thanks for spotting me. What are you gonna do next?” Blake asked.

“I’m going to do some chest flies now,” Cruz said.

“Oh nice, I just did those, they give a great chest pump.” Blake said, “I’m probably going to hit shoulders, then triceps and then some cardio.”

“Cool, maybe I’ll join you at cardio,” Cruz added.

Blake nodded and made his way to the shoulder press machine. The gym's rhythm was in full swing now, the clank of metal on metal, the murmur of conversations, the occasional grunt of exertion. He picked out the weights he needed and started his first set. The machine groaned under the load as he pushed the heavy metal arms up, his muscles screaming in protest. The pain was a familiar friend, a reminder of his limits, and the thrill of pushing through them.

In the mirror, he watched his reflection move with precision. The steel-gray eyes stared back at him, unflinching. He had always loved the solitude of the gym, and the way it removed all drama and hierarchy until all that was left was raw power and determination. It was a place where no matter who you are, people won't judge.

As he shifted his focus to the tricep dips, the gym's background music grew louder, filling the room with a bass-heavy beat that seemed to sync with his heart. His breath grew ragged, his movements a dance of endurance. The world outside the mirror faded away. Here, it was just him and the iron, a silent conversation of wills.

Finally, the weights clanked into place, and Blake stepped back, sweat beading on his forehead like diamonds in the artificial light. He took a moment to catch his breath, eyes still locked on his reflection. The muscles of his arms stood out in stark relief, a testament to the hours he'd spent here. The quiet determination in his gaze shifted, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. It was time for cardio.

He grabbed a towel and made his way across the gym floor, the squeak of his sneakers echoing through the vast space. The cardio section was a sea of motion and rhythm—people lost in their own worlds, chasing their own battles. And there, on the treadmills, he spotted Cruz. But it wasn’t the sight of Cruz there what surprised him—it was the girl on the machine beside his. Ava Carlson, her sleek black hair pulled back into a ponytail, lean and powerful, with the kind of focused intensity that could cut glass, chatting away with him like she wasn't running, but intead walking.

"Hey there" Blake said as he arrived. "Hope I'm not interrupting," he said as he got on the treadmill beside Cruz's and started it .

"Oh don't worry, we weren't talking about anything important," Ava said.

"Didn't know you guys were friends." Blake commented on the strage duo.

"I mean, at school we hung out in different circles, but since we both spend lots of time at the gym, eventually we got closer," Cruz said.

"Nothing better for bonding, than suffering together, even if you enjoy the challengee." Blake said.

"Exactly" Ava agreeed.

The trio fell into an easy rhythm, the treadmills humming like a metronome as they pushed their legs. The digital screens counted down their miles, the numbers flashing in sync. Blake focused on the horizon in his mind's eye, a place where the troubles of Resin Grove couldn’t follow. He'd always found something meditative about running — it was just him, the pavement, and the thoughts that had nowhere to go but out of his head.

The duo beside him held a conversation, Blake sometimes joining in. Before long, Blake saw that he ran a bit more than 3 miles and got off.

"Bye guys, see you at school tomorrow," He waved to the duo that still kept running like they just started. Blake was amazed at their endurance, and he plays basketball.

After taking a quick shower to wash all the sweat away, he changed into his normal clothes. As he was placing his gym clothes into the bag, his phone buzzed. A text from Ethan asking if they’re still jamming this evening. “Of course,” Blake quickly replied.

He got into his car already thinking of funky riffs.