The sun wasn't up yet.
Mikey's alarm buzzed at 5:30 AM, its shrill ring slicing through the quiet like a blade. He groaned, every part of his body aching from the pathetic excuse for a workout the night before.
But he didn't hit snooze.
He sat up slowly, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and got out of bed. His legs wobbled beneath him. His arms were stiff. Even his back ached in places he didn't know could hurt.
Still, he pulled on his hoodie, laced up his worn sneakers, and stepped outside.
The morning air was cold and sharp. The streets were empty, the city still half-asleep. It made Mikey feel like the world was his—just for a moment.
He started with a light jog.
At least, that's what he intended. But his body protested with every step, and before long, he was just walking briskly, breath puffing out in clouds.
"No one sees you right now," he told himself. "No one's laughing. This is yours. Every step."
Even when his lungs burned. Even when his legs screamed. Even when he thought about turning back… he kept moving.
---
By the time he returned to the apartment, the sky was tinged with orange and his hoodie was drenched in sweat. He collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but proud.
It wasn't much.
But it was more than yesterday.
---
Later that day at school, the halls felt different.
Not because anyone treated him differently—they didn't. Jason still threw a shoulder into him near the lockers. Someone still whispered "loser" as he walked by. But Mikey didn't flinch.
He didn't shrink.
Not because he was stronger—he wasn't. But because for the first time in a long time, he had something they didn't know about.
A mission.
A secret promise.
In gym class, he pushed himself harder. In lunch, he kept his head high, even when he ate alone. And when someone made a snide comment, Mikey just stared at them—not angrily, not fearfully, but quietly.
Like someone who wasn't scared anymore.
Not entirely.
---
That night, he did the same workout again. Ten push-ups. Fifteen squats. Ten crunches. Slow, weak, messy—but done.
And when he laid down to rest, his arms burning and legs throbbing, he whispered the same words again.
"I'm not staying this way."
No one believed in him. No one knew what he was doing.
But that was fine.
Because someday... they would.