The Stroke (Patreon)

There is a violent jerk in my perception. Did I black out? Did I fall down? I'm staring up at the guy from before. The kind of good looking guy that kept looking my way in the gym. I was leaving for the locker room. No, I had already entered the locker room when the power went from my body and I buckled. I think I lost consciousness before I hit the floor. I must be on the floor as I'm looking up at him. Or on a bench. I can't feel which. Oh, God! I can't feel anything. I can't move! "Hey there, buddy. You OK?" he says. He doesn't look very concerned, so it's not like I've broken my spine in an obvious way. I had tried to ignore him best I could in the workout room. His lose tank top didn't do much to hide his hard, tight muscles under his tattooed skin, but none of that is my type. "nnnnggg" I respond. I can't speak either. Did I get a stroke? Something must be wrong in my brain. I can see, I can hear, and I can move my eyes. That's it. No, I can smell his post-workout sweat. At least I'm not smelling burnt toast. "Yeah, I know. It will all be over soon." Wait, what? What is he talking about? Where are his hands? It's like he is holding me down or something. Then everything goes black again, slowly and gently this time.

I blink into consciousness just as quickly the second time. This time he is sitting on the floor, in front of me, leaning against the lockers. He's still wearing the tank top and shorts, and if anything looks more sweaty than before. Exhausted even, with all his muscles completely relaxed, and a neutral expression on his face. I can smell him from here. I start to move towards him, and it is only just then when he does the same I realize I'm sitting in front of a mirror.