Damn you.

You woke up to the sound of a lot of footsteps and shuffling. Which made no sense, because you didn’t live in a gym, you lived in a dorm. A small, creaky, student-housing dorm with thin walls, buzzing lights, and a constant faint smell of instant noodles. One bathroom, one kitchenette, one shared living room, two bedrooms, and — oh, right. A roomie.

You cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of your room, was Nien — your roommate, your self-proclaimed coach, and the last person you want to see before 9 a.m. She was in a cropped hoodie and shorts, hair tied into a messy ponytail, cheeks slightly flushed as she warmed up… using two water jugs like makeshift dumbbells.

Even worse, she was smiling too. Bright. Cheerful. As if this was the most natural thing to be doing at the crack of dawn.

You lazily checked your phone. 7:03 a.m.

“I hate you,” you mumbled into your pillow and covered your head with the blanket. “I stayed up late last night, damn it…piss off, Nien…”

“Good morning to you too!” she chirped without missing a beat, clearly ignoring your groaning. Her voice was way too chipper for someone who had no business being awake this early.

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” She looked over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from exertion, that innocent smile of hers glowing like morning sunlight. “Disciplined?”

“Insane,” you corrected. “It’s the weekend. Let me sleep, you jolly bean…”

She laughed, setting the jugs down with a soft clunk. “Come onnnn, you promised we’d go to the gym together today.”

You groaned louder, flipping onto your back. “No, you said, ‘Let’s go to the gym,’ and I said, ‘We’ll see.’ That’s not a promise, that’s just me thinking.”

Nien padded over, each step light and springy, the floor creaking softly under her socks. She crouched beside your bed, her expression hovering between amusement and mischief. “You’ve been saying ‘we’ll see’ since last month.”

“That’s called consistency,” you said, eyes still closed.

“Then consistently get up,” she countered.

You reached for the blanket again. “Not happening. Not today.”

A moment of silence. Then, her voice. Softer. Playful. “Come on. You said I could drag you out of bed if you bailed again.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you mumbled. “You’re too nice for that.”

Well. A soft whoosh, and then, betrayal. Your blanket was yanked off in one swift, merciless motion. The rush of cold morning air hit your skin like punishment. “Nien!” you shouted, curling up instantly.

She was laughing now, that innocent, bell-like laugh that made you want to simultaneously smile and file a noise complaint. “Get up, grumpy. We’ll miss the good treadmills.”

“You think I care about good treadmills?” you said, glaring at her. “The only treadmill I care about is the one that treads me back to sleep.”

“Wow.” She nodded seriously. “That’s a terrible line. You’re definitely awake now.”

You sighed dramatically and sat up, hair a mess, face still half-buried in your hand. “Tell me why the hell did I choose to live with you?”

“Because I do your laundry when you forget,” she said immediately, standing up straight and crossing her arms like she’d been waiting for that line.

“Once,” you muttered. “You did it once and haven’t stopped mentioning it.”

“It’s a good deed, I deserve credit.”

You squinted at her. “You mixed my white shirts with your pink hoodie.”

“Now they’re matching!” she said proudly. Completely unbothered.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoyingly cute?”

You stared at her blankly. “…annoying, period.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Wow. You’ve changed.”

“Yeah,” you said, dragging yourself out of bed, “I’ve changed into someone who wants to move out.”

“You say that every week,” she teased, already grabbing her gym bag. “And yet, here you are — my favourite roomie.”

“Only because the landlord won’t let me kick you.”

She grinned, leaning against the wall. “You like living with me.”

You looked up at her, the morning light from the window catching on her pink hair, her eyes dancing with mischief, her entire being radiating that unfair combination of wild and warmth, and sighed. “Sure, you can think of it that way.”

She chuckled, tossing you a water bottle. “Come on, tragic boy. Five minutes to get ready.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll carry you out in your pajamas. Bridal style.”

You blinked, half-daring her. “Don’t you dare, muscle freak.” But to be fair, it does sound good in your head.

Her lips twitched. “Try me.”

You stared at her for a moment. The slight smirk tugging at her mouth, the way her stance screamed “I absolutely would”. Didn’t think this girl would make you rub your temples this early in the morning. “You’re not human.”

“Thank you,” she said brightly, as if you just complimented her. And by the time you stumbled into the bathroom to change, she was humming to herself and tying her sneakers by the door.

Somewhere between brushing your teeth and pulling your hoodie over your head, you realized that, for someone who claimed to hate mornings (disheveled, half-awake, annoyed), you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

And that was the most annoying part of all.

7:30am, and the gym is already a live wire. Metal clanks, treadmills thrum, bass-heavy pop rattles the mirrors, and a chorus of strained grunts underlines everything. The air tastes faintly of chalk and protein shakes. And you want, with an aching passion, to be anywhere but here.

You fall a few steps behind Nien, who moves through the large space like she owns the layout and the playlist. Her pink ponytail bounces with each stride; her hoodie sleeves are pushed up just enough to flash the curve of a biceps that looks illegal on a person who smiles like a dandelion. At home she’s a cinnamon roll. Here she looks like she will effortlessly put you on a chokehold.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask, dragging your feet toward the bag racks so your shoes hit the rubber floor slower than they should.

“Because deep down, you love taking care of your health, with me.” she replied, voice dripping with mischief.