over the soothing sounds of ocean waves, a deep voice penetrates your bubble. you blink one eye open and scan the room for its owner.
shifting slightly on the yoga mat, you try to ease back into your pose. distractions always messed up your form.
once the tension in your muscles is just right, you close your eyes and attempt to return to your happy place. “i’m trying to focus.”
“really?” by the sound of his footsteps, he’s getting closer. “you’re stretching on the floor. what about that requires focus?”
with a huff, you release your pose and rise to your feet. the remote to your sound machine lies on the coffee table, and you click it off in mild annoyance. “if it seems so easy, you try it, then. come on.”
snapping your fingers, you gesture toward the turquoise mat below. with a raised brow and a slight smirk, sylus steps onto the foam pad, his dark clothing clashing with its beachy design.
you clear your throat, trying to emulate your online instructor. “now get on your knees, move one leg behind you, and reach your arm behind your head. if you’re flexible enough, your fingers should touch your toes.”
“all right,” he says without a worry in the world. “on my knees, move my leg, and reach my…”
he had been following your instructions, but as he trails off, his movements slow. his eyes flit from the mat to his body in confusion—then back again.
“what’s wrong, sy? bit off more than you can chew?”
he chuckles. “never. i’m just figuring out the logistics of this position. my limbs are much longer than yours, you know.” grunting quietly, he tries to reach his arm back again. he almost has it—until a sickening crack echoes through the room.
humming, you rest your hands on your hips. “you good?”
his voice is no more than a growl. “help me.”
“why?” in feigned confusion, you pitch your voice up. “what’s wrong? i thought you had it.”
“if you don’t help me before my pelvis shatters, sweetie, we won’t be able to have anything for the foreseeable future.”
now, you’re the one who freezes.
you shudder. what a frightening thought.
rushing to his side, you support him as he slowly flails out of the position. once his limbs are straight again, he lies face down on the mat.
“i see that i underestimated you,” he breathes. outside of his hearty laughter, you’ve never heard him wheeze quite like this. “i guess it’s best if i stick to firearms.”
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