The weight of fourteen hours behind the bar clung to Archie like an extra skin, every tendon in his back pulling tight with the memory of spilled drinks, fake laughs, and the buzz of neon light. He kept telling himself the grind was worth it, that the cash was what mattered, that someone had to make sure the bills didn't stack up higher than the fridge. Still, the thought of Alba talking about spring break in Europe kept circling in his head like a loose puck sliding across the ice. He couldn't picture how to make that happen, not with his wallet looking the way it did. Shouldering his bag, the same one that always waited near the door like a dog ready to go out, he slipped out of the apartment without a sound. Alba's breathing came slow and steady from the bedroom, and for some reason that made him even more careful with the handle of the door, turning it inch by inch until the click was almost silent.

The air outside was cold in the way that made his lungs feel clean. He walked the short stretch to the gym with his hood up, sneakers hitting the pavement with a rhythm that woke him more than the coffee he didn't have time to make. The streets were mostly empty, just a car or two sliding past with headlights cutting through the dark. He always liked this part of the night, or maybe morning, when it felt like he had stolen an hour from the rest of the world.

The gym lights glared against the windows, too bright for this hour. Inside, the place was exactly how he expected. Quiet, humming with the low whir of machines, the sharp smell of disinfectant mixing with rubber mats. Ivy was at the desk, chin pressed to her phone as her fingers danced over the screen. When she noticed him, she tucked the phone against her shoulder and gave him a smile. "Hi, Archie. How's the shift?" Her voice was bright, like she wasn't the least bit tired.

Archie answered with a story, some nonsense about a drunk guy nearly dancing on the counter, which got Ivy to laugh even though half of it wasn't true. He wasn't lying to hurt anyone; he just liked seeing her grin. There was a time she'd asked for his Instagram, and for a week he thought about it too much. Then she found out about Alba, and her tone shifted, like she had pulled a window shut. He didn't blame her, but the memory still made his stomach twist a little.

The main hall had the usual strange mix of people you only found at four in the morning. A girl in a suit that probably cost more than his rent was walking on the treadmill, balancing a Stanley cup in one hand like the laws of physics didn't apply to her. Farther back, a guy wrestled with the cables of a lat pulldown machine, frowning like it had betrayed him. Archie dropped his bag with a thud on the mat and ran his hand over the back of his neck. His body wanted the weights, wanted the clean burn of reps to scrape away the rest of the night. But watching the guy fight the machine, his mouth twitched into a smile.

"Hi," he said, stepping closer, his voice warm even though he was tired. "Need a hand with that?"