With the money I had, I found myself wondering whether to sign up at a gym. 'Would I be allowed?'
Fuck the 'preservation laws' or whatever they called them. My experience so far with this society and these laws had only left me bemused, at best, and completely revolted at worst. So, maybe I was a bit rebellious when it came to this whole setup.
Okay, so I was a hell lotta rebellious.
But this was such a primitive, almost tyrannical approach towards a problem which was entirely contrived and imaginary, at best, or the fruit of the decades of bias. If I were to walk in on a female-dominated gym with my appearance and attitude and go nuts, wouldn't a few faints and near-death experiences from swooning women be, by far, the smallest problem I could've created?
Would anyone raise an objection over something as natural as people wanting to maintain a healthy figure, anyway?
Perhaps a private one with male-only sections would do the trick, if I could find one.
Or I could even just build one in here. After all, the house had plenty of spare rooms and a big yard. There had to be enough space for a small, private gym.
But fuck it, wouldn't that be an absolute waste of time? Not to mention having to set up the machinery, I'd have to deal with questioning looks and all the commotion from having all those heavy equipment delivered.
It was faster and easier to just walk into a good gym and do my own exercises and all that shit.
If I were to consider this choice as an actual, reasonable one, which was the current option that would get the job done at the least cost and the most efficiency, then it was the only choice I had. A quick Google search gave me a list of nearby gyms that were well within my walking distance.
Though nothing came up about male-only gyms; well, there was one, but it was too far out. The only one in this state, from the looks of it.
...
I believed that it was a universal thing to check yourself out in the mirror after your first workout session, as if your muscles would have grown instantly and turned bulging, rock-hard in an instant.
"Damien?"
Iris called out from behind my door as she knocked softly. "Lunch is ready. We're all waiting for you at the dining table."
"I shall make haste to descend presently and attend to my royal duty of food consumption. Lamentably, I fear that my physical attire does not currently allow me to do so appropriately."
She paused.
"... what?"
I blinked. "I'm getting dressed."
"Oh, uh, okay then!"
I didn't hear footsteps, so she was most likely still standing there.
"Hmm. Should I be worried you're going to peek, sis? The door's not locked. They keyhole's not even covered."
"... p-peek!? At what!? I'm going downstairs. Mom will be worried otherwise. S-so you'd better come down quickly!"
"Yeah, yeah, I heard. Thanks." I muttered, changing into a set of plain clothes.
I ran a hand through my hair, making faces at the mirror; I did it frequently, as if to confirm that this face was actually mine and wouldn't suddenly melt away like wax.
'My family must think I'm clinically insane, with how out of character I've been behaving.'
I stood there, for a moment, simply thinking.
I had no memories of them or the relationships I had with them. It was a little difficult for me to find a point of connection.
Their existence wasn't all that grounding, neither could I connect with their behaviors or understand their feelings or what they expected of me. And that left us where?
No memories or established relationships. That left me with the... less-than-satisfactory solution of 'making an attempt' to accommodate each.
It seemed so simple, yet impossible. Forging relationships and rearranging emotions and establishing boundaries and finding out what they liked or hated or tolerated.
At least in this world.
It was like taking a puzzle whose pieces you had never seen and then blindly arranging the bits together until something vaguely clicked into place. In that sense, I wished OG Damien left some memories behind, just so I could understand him a bit more, and my family, and the rest of the world at large.
Was I expected to be the kind that cooked and cleaned? A demure boy, a delicate flower, a middle finger to what a man is supposed to be.
Maybe my old life had made me a bit too jaded, making a comedy out of this new life.
Time to face the inquisition again, though.
...
I walked down the stairs, already hearing them all in a conversation—with my sisters aggressively voicing out their opinions on their favorite music genres and songs. Whatever had topped the music charts this week. Which celebrity had gotten into some sort of a scandal, and which other one was suspected to have a fling with yet another one.
'I am so ready to rip my ears off. Could they please get some better topics of interest...'
"Damien." Willow called out the moment I reached the bottom of the staircase. "How are you?"
Naturally, every single conversation at the dining table came to a halt, their eyes snapping to my direction.
The room felt unnervingly cold for the longest moment, everyone's expression unchanging. Iris was a little dazed, head slightly tilted on that beautiful, slender and so chokable axis as she watched me. 'Bad thoughts. Though considering the flipped gender roles, perhaps I'm the one who's going to be choked during sex?'
Ivy smiled the brightest, patting the seat next to her with obvious cheer.
Calista was absent. Given how her gaze wasn't as openly welcoming as her younger siblings, I figured that was for the best. Logically speaking, an estranged relationship wasn't something I looked forward to. I was already having issues figuring out these women, let alone someone who likely didn't see me in a positive light.
"I'm fine, thank you, Mom." I shrugged, placing myself where Ivy had shown me the empty spot. She gave a mischievous yet slightly victorious grin at Iris.
The dining table was set up nicely. An immaculate white cloth. Bright and shining silverware and plates. Expensive stuff, probably.
Good food. Nice arrangement. Everything in its right place. The aroma was inviting, too. This was my first real lunch with this family. Such a weird feeling, considering they were just a level above strangers to me, right now.
"You look better." Ivy offered, beaming.
"I feel better." I replied, which was true in the sense that I'd had time to think, and thinking, for me, had always been a more productive activity than panicking.
"We're all glad about that."
"Calista's not joining us?" I asked, genuinely curious, reaching for the nearest dish.
A brief pause.
"She had work." Willow said, piling food on his plate. "She sends her regards."
"Is that so...?"
My skepticism must've been evident.
Iris glanced at me.
Willow blinked. "Damien—"
I shrugged, unbothered. "It's fine."
Whether that was true or not, it was always wiser not to expect a warm reception from someone who had made no efforts to give a warm reception in the first place.
The way I saw it, the one who tries first loses.
That was logic.
And I had nothing to prove.
The problem was that I didn't know whether Calista hated me or it was something more complicated. I could handle complicated. Hatred and jealousy, potentially, could and would break families.
Willow, seeming to be trying very hard to take things slowly, and with grace. She was always graceful, I noted. Even when she was on the cusp of a mental breakdown.
Freya settled into the chair across from me with a glass of something that was definitely not water. "How was your morning, all things considered?" She asked, resting her chin on one hand as she watched me.
"Productive." I shrugged. "Learned a lot more about this city. The café on Meridian has excellent éclairs. The police response time is impressive, if a touch disproportionate."
I had to chuckle a little at that, because it was indeed impressive.
Willow stared at me over the rim of her coffee mug. Freya's brows crept ever-so-slightly upward.
I offered them a guileless smile.
"You caused a woman to faint." Willow said flatly.
"In the spirit of transparency, she caused herself to faint. All I did was raise a hand and say hello. Am I really at fault here?"
"Most definitely." Ivy giggled. I sent her a grin. Look at this mischievous little brat.
"Damien." Willow set her mug down with more care than the action required. "You can't just walk into a café alone. You know this."
Actually, I didn't.
"I did, though. So apparently I can."
"That's not what I—"
I rolled my eyes.
"Did no one care how I got there, and back in one piece without someone 'apparently'—" I had to air quote this shit. "Stalking me or anything. And, stay with me here, I'm not saying there aren't risks. I'm simply saying that none manifested this time. Which is why I plan to do it again, since, contrary to popular belief, I have discovered no imminent or acute threats to my person thus far." I drawled, making eye contact as I bit down on the steak. "God, this really is good."
Willow opened her mouth. I closed it. Looked at Freya for backup.
Freya was staring at her glass with great interest.
"Freya."
"Hmm?" She looked up, perfectly innocent.
"Help me."
"I'm thinking." Freya said, which was not the same thing.
Iris had been quiet through all of this. She was eating slowly. Every so often her eyes would move in my direction and then move away again before they'd been there long enough to count as looking.
"Iris." I said.
She looked up immediately. Couldn't help it.
"How's your food?"
A pause. "... good."
I smiled.
She went back to eating. The back of her neck was slightly pink, which the curtain of red hair almost, but not quite, covered.
Freya made that sound again into her glass. Willow sighed; I decided to extend an olive branch to the poor woman, as a gesture of my improved mood and goodwill. "I've decided to sign up to a gym, as well. Seems it might do me some good."
That, of course, sparked immediate reaction.
I didn't pay it too much mind as I tore into the rest of the steak and side dish.
"What did you just say, honey?"
Willow wasn't even bothering with pretense. Freya stared. Iris and Ivy's jaws dropped.
"A gym." I said. "It's a facility where people exercise. I'm told there's a decent one on Calloway."
"I know what a gym is, Damien."
"Then..."
Willow pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. "You can't go to a public gym."
"Why not?"
"Because—" She stopped. Started again. "Because it's not safe."
"For who?"
She blinked. "For you."
"I walked to a café this morning and back. I had coffee with a police officer. I returned here unscathed." I reached for my water. "My safety record is currently perfect."
"That's not—one morning isn't a sample size."
"It's a start."
I wondered how dangerous an hypothetical scenario the likes Willow was conjuring, actually really was.
Forgive me, for I still had my own mindset. Men easily overpowered women, though that could possibly not be the case here. Yet I simply didn't fear either rape, sexual harassment, assault, nor kidnappings, among many others.
The notion itself, even if realistic here, was ridiculous and highly unlikely to me.
A woman kidnapping a man?
No, let's construct a better example.
A bunch of hot women, all sweaty from working out, all gathered up in a small space in tight-fitting clothes, with their big asses jiggling from squats and thick thighs shaking and breasts bouncing from jump-roping... all of them glancing towards this beautiful, irresistible virgin boy, converging threateningly around him, before taking advantage of that overwhelming physiology differences and fucking him senseless.
Then dragging his weak, pale ass somewhere for them to take turns to 'use' him—
Seriously, is this world fucking real?
In that sense, then, perhaps going to the gym was an absolute must if it turned out I was so much weaker than a woman, though I had to spare enough time to test that out—as much as I scoffed at the thought of it possibly being true.
While I didn't care about being sexually harassed, being seen as a little, compliant bitch was definitely not on my bucket-list.