Inside a gym, the place was packed with people — and with all sorts of sounds. Whether it was random pop music playing in the background, some grunts, shouts, or the clang of plates crashing against each other, everything blended into one constant noise.
In an area meant for bench pressing, Jonathan was sitting on one of the benches, wearing black shorts and a sleeveless shirt, sweaty and breathing heavily.
On both sides of him, Chad and Tyrone chatted carelessly — well, mostly Tyrone, with his usual talkative self.
"Ugh, the gym's really crowded today. Maybe we should've come at another time," he said, hands on his hips, wearing a short red shirt that showed his stomach, along with short black shorts that revealed a good part of his legs.
"And what other time should we have come? We can't skip school just to train," replied Chad before taking a sip from his bottle, wearing shorts similar to Tyrone's but with a loose gray shirt.
"No, I just think we should've come earlier. It's really packed," Tyrone shot back, frowning as he looked around.
At that moment, it was seven in the evening. It was Tyrone's idea to go to the gym, and Chad had agreed even after pointing out that problem.
Same for Jonathan.
But his flamboyant friend decided that going at that hour was better than right after school — and now they were stuck with it.
"God, did that guy really need to wear such short, tight shorts? I can practically see his large intestine every time he squats," complained Tyrone, frowning even harder while looking at a guy who seemed a bit older than them in the distance.
Chad just laughed when he heard Tyrone, while Jonathan, sitting and leaning forward, gave him a blank look. "You can't really say much, can you?" Jonathan commented.
Tyrone whipped his head around, gasping dramatically as if Jonathan had said something outrageous. "Don't be ridiculous! My cute shorts only show off my thighs, and they're not skin-tight! I have zero interest in showing off my ass, my dick, or my balls — unlike that slut over there. I mean, just look at him!"
While Chad laughed even harder, Jonathan shook his head. "Alright, alright, drama queen. Now come help me out here. I'm about to start another set," he said, grabbing the bar.
Following his words, after Chad set his bottle on the floor, both he and Tyrone positioned themselves on either side of the bar.
"I still don't know how you trust us to lift this," Tyrone grumbled, letting out a frustrated groan as he got ready to help Jonathan.
"I actually agree with Tyrone today," said Chad, also getting into position.
"Don't worry. Like I said, if anything happens, you can just ask the guys next to us for help," Jonathan replied casually.
Naturally, he knew relying on those two's weak strength for something like that wasn't ideal — especially since his own strength was absurdly higher than theirs. But it was fine.
At that moment, he wasn't lifting his max weight anyway, so he could handle it just fine.
He only asked for their help so they wouldn't waste time on their phones.
Adjusting his grip, Jonathan got ready, gave the signal, and then — without hesitation — lifted the bar off the rack, starting another set of twelve reps.
The bar, loaded with plates totaling an impressive 150 kg, went up and down slowly against Jonathan's chest. His face tightened with effort, his breathing controlled and focused.
Finishing the set, he racked the bar with one last push, immediately feeling the fatigue as he sat up with a grunt.
"See? You can do that on your own. You don't even need our help," said Tyrone, exasperated.
Nodding weakly with a small smile, Jonathan caught his breath before replying, "Yeah, true. But at least this way, I make you two actually do something instead of lazing around on social media, right?"
While Tyrone huffed and looked away, Chad chuckled calmly. "It's not laziness, I'm relaxing, resting my mind, watching some videos. It's necessary between sets!"
Jonathan raised a brow at him, dryly. "Uh-huh, sure—"
"What do you think you're doing, you pervert?!"
A loud, high-pitched, effeminate male scream suddenly echoed through the gym, overpowering even the background noise and drawing everyone's attention.
"What the hell was that?" Jonathan muttered, turning toward the shout.
Looking in that direction, they found — surprisingly — the same guy Tyrone had been talking about earlier, now at another machine, furiously pointing at a girl.
"What are you talking about, you psycho?! I was just walking by! I didn't even look at you!" yelled the girl, who seemed to be in her early twenties, with short hair and a slightly muscular build, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
"What's going on?" asked Tyrone, curious.
"I think I've seen this before…" Chad muttered to himself.
Still sitting, Jonathan silently nodded, already sensing what was about to happen — recognizing a very familiar pattern.
"What do you mean you didn't do anything?! You clearly walked behind me staring at my ass and calling me hot!" shouted the guy, pointing at her, his voice dripping with outrage.
"What?! I didn't do any of that! Everyone saw I just passed by and didn't even look at you! Are you insane?!" the girl shot back, her voice equally loud, forehead wrinkled in indignation.
"That's why women these days are afraid to approach men," Tyrone complained, crossing his arms.
Without noticing the silent looks from Chad and Jonathan — both fully aware of the irony — Tyrone didn't realize how contradictory his statement sounded after all the things he'd said in the past.
"I thought you were some machinit fighting for men's rights, weren't you?" Jonathan teased with a faint smile, taking a sip from his bottle.
"I still am, that hasn't changed just because of Megan," Tyrone replied, raising an eyebrow over his shoulder.
Chad shook his head slightly, and Jonathan scoffed.
"Man, you lie so easily your face doesn't even flinch."
Tyrone raised his brow even higher, turning toward him with crossed arms. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm serious. My opinion's the same — I still fight for men's rights."
Jonathan only responded with a tired sigh, not even looking at him. "Sure you do, my friend, sure you do."
Before they could go any further, another, even louder shout cut through the air.
"No! What are you doing?! Let me go!"
Looking again in the direction of the noise, they saw two women holding the guy by the arms and lifting him off the floor, apparently trying to get him out of the gym.
"Quit the act! Don't you realize there are cameras here? I know your type. You'd better leave quietly before the police get involved and you end up with a lawsuit in your name," exclaimed another woman, standing in front of the accused one, arms crossed and posture firm.
Apparently convinced, the guy stopped struggling and let himself be taken outside.
Right after that, the gym erupted into applause, whistles, and cheers — everyone celebrating the expulsion of the false accuser.
Letting out a sigh, the woman said something to the girl before turning to everyone else. "Sorry for the interruption, folks. As you could see, one of our members caused some trouble. But it's already taken care of. You can get back to your workout, okay?" she said before heading back to the office.
"Is she the owner of the gym?" asked Chad, watching her walk away.
"I think so," Jonathan replied.
"Anyway, back to what we were talking about," said Tyrone suddenly, frowning. "What was that tone you used earlier? Just because I started dating Megan doesn't mean I abandoned my fight or my support for the men's movement!"
Letting out a tired sigh, Jonathan slowly lay back down on the bench, getting ready for another set. "I wouldn't say you changed your views, at least not entirely. It's more accurate to say you dropped that whole pretense of 'fighting for something' you didn't even understand, after realizing women aren't wild animals waiting to attack you at the slightest sign of weakness."
Frowning deeper, Tyrone crossed his arms. "What do you mean? I don't get it."
Exhaling faintly, Jonathan looked at Chad, who caught the signal and spoke up. "What Jonathan's trying to say is that, before, you were always talking about defending men's rights and all that, but you never did anything. You just repeated what you saw online. Tell me this — what are women's rights, like, things they can do that we men can't?"
Hearing the question, Tyrone opened his mouth as if he had an answer right on the tip of his tongue... but stopped.
The silence grew, and the longer it lasted, the clearer it became that he had nothing to say.
In the end, he pouted and huffed. "That's not fair," he exclaimed, almost whining, and slapped Jonathan's stomach suddenly.
Letting out a grunt, caught off guard, Jonathan shot him an annoyed look while Chad tried to hold back a laugh.
Ignoring the look, Tyrone grumbled, "But that doesn't mean I don't believe what I say! I really am a machinist, and I'm definitely for men's rights!"
Shaking his head slightly with a smile, Chad replied, "And nobody's saying otherwise. There's nothing wrong with that — just, if you're gonna fight for something, at least know what you're talking about, right?" He looked at Jonathan. "Don't you think?"
Following his gaze, Tyrone saw Jonathan shake his head and smile faintly.
"Ah, screw all this crap," he said, laughing lightly as he adjusted his grip on the bar. "Let the women go to war, and the men stay home taking care of the kids. And this 'men's rights movement' talk can suck my dick."
While Chad's lips trembled, Tyrone looked at him, exasperated. "Jesus, you're honestly the most femist guy I know — more femist than a lot of women, even."
"Thank you," Jonathan replied with a satisfied look.
"That wasn't a compliment," Tyrone shot back dryly.
"Alright, alright, now come on, drama queen — and you too, Snowflake. Use those amazing muscles of yours and give me a hand," said Jonathan, adjusting his grip one last time.
With a grumble, Tyrone moved to one side while Chad went to the other.
After that, the three went on with their usual workout routine.
...
[Friday Night, Midtown High]
Opening the passenger door and stepping onto the sidewalk, the loud sound of what seemed like drums, shouts, and whistles hit Jonathan all at once.
After closing the door behind him, he looked toward where the noise came from — the tall mast lights shining down from each corner of the football field.
"Things look pretty lively, huh," he muttered to himself, squinting and raising a hand to his forehead as if to see better.
"Let's go," said Elizabeth after locking the car, stepping up on the sidewalk and waving at him before heading toward the field, slipping the key into her pocket.
With Marianne standing right behind him, Jonathan placed a hand on her shoulder and started walking with her — the two following Elizabeth.
What none of the three noticed was the car parked a little farther behind theirs. The passenger door opened, and out stepped a girl.
With a calm face and carrying an oddly large backpack, Alexis watched in their direction in silence.
Her gaze gave nothing away about what she was thinking. She then closed the car door and, just like the other three, walked toward the field.
Regardless of the game, that night would be a very eventful one for many people.
Especially for Jonathan.