Chapter 10: The Weight of Words
It started like any other day—sunlight slipping through the gym's windows, the low thrum of workout music, and the rhythmic sounds of lifting and breathing. Jake, half-asleep but determined, was wiping down benches and nodding his head to an imaginary beat.
Then the door slammed open.
Five guys strutted in like they owned the place. Loud, cocky, and instantly off-putting. Jake glanced up, and Alex, already spotting them from across the gym, stiffened slightly.
At first, they acted like they were just here to train—until they weren't.
They hogged the bench press and curling station, tossing people's water bottles aside. They took dumbbells mid-set from a shy teenager. One of them began obnoxiously flexing in the mirror, blocking others and grunting so loudly it drowned out the music. They also grabbed one of Jake's colorful flyers off the wall.
"'Are you tired of feeling worthless?'" he read in an exaggerated voice, laughing. "'Start small. Start here. The gym for people who feel broken.' What is this? A therapy clinic or a gym?"
Another guy chimed in, snickering. "More like a crybaby club. Who wrote this garbage?"(They see Jake picture in the flyer)
Then things got worse.
Two of them sauntered over to a pair of women on treadmills and started trying to chat them up—leaning too close, commenting on their bodies, ignoring the clear discomfort on their faces.
"Don't be shy, babe," one said, "we're the only real men in here."
Jake saw it first and moved quickly. "Hey, back off. If someone says no, you listen. Respect the space—or leave."
The taller guy from earlier turned. "Oh, look. Mr. Motivation Poster wants to be a hero."
He snatched one of the flyers from the wall—the one Jake had poured his heart into. The paper crinkled in his hand as he read mockingly: "Even if your chest is sunken, your heart doesn't have to be."
The group broke into laughter.
"Did you write this, bro?" one of them asked Jake, holding up the flyer like it was infected. "That explains a lot."
Jake clenched his jaw, but didn't look away.
Alex walked up behind him, voice low and steady. "You've made your point. Get out."
They turned to face him. "Or what? You gonna flex us to death, gym boy?"
"You don't belong here," Alex said. "You don't respect the space, the people, or the rules."
The tallest guy in the group turned with a laugh. "You serious? You kicking us out 'cause we hurt your gym's feelings, coach?"
The group laughed again. One took a half-empty protein shake from another guy's bag and pretended to chug it. Another kicked a towel off a bench and wiped his sweat on it.
Jake stepped forward beside Alex.
"Look," Jake said, "you've had your fun. But this gym isn't just a building. It's a place for people who feel lost, broken, or scared to start. This ad"—he held up a second flyer—"wasn't made for people like you. It was made for people who need a place to feel okay."
One of the guys squinted. "And what are you supposed to be, the mascot?"
Another snorted. "A muscleless inspiration poster."
Jake exhaled slowly. He wasn't going to yell. He wasn't going to snap.The group cackled. Jake stood there, letting them mock him, eyes calm.
He wasn't angry.
He was disappointed.
"You read the whole thing?" Jake asked softly.
The group paused, surprised by his question.
"Didn't expect you to, honestly. Guess my writing's not that bad if it got your attention."
The guy blinked. "What?"
Jake looked around the gym, at the members—some old, some new—watching the scene unfold. The same people who found hope in his words, who came in afraid to try. He wasn't going to let them feel ashamed.
"You came in here thinking you're tough. That's fine. But don't mock what gives people the courage to get out of bed and show up. You don't know what they've survived just to walk through that door."
Alex's voice followed, low and full of weight. "Leave. Now. Or I'll teach you how much this dumb bodybuilder knows about fighting."
There was something in his stance—unshaking, protective—that made even the cocky ones falter.
Jake added, "And hey, one more thing before you go."
He stepped forward, face still calm. "If you ever feel like life's falling apart… don't come crawling back with jokes. Come back with humility. We'll still take you in."
The silence was sharp.
"You mock the words because you've never needed them," Jake said. "But one day you might."
Alex added, cold and sure, "Out. Before I show you how I fight."
The group exchanged looks—some tense, some bitter—but they left. Not quietly. The last one to step out turned around and grinned.
"You'll regret this. All of you."
Then the door slammed shut behind them.
Jake let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The gym was quiet again, though a few members came over to offer silent nods of thanks. The women they had harassed quietly resumed their workouts, but Jake could still feel the tension in the air.
Alex turned to Jake. "You handled it well."
Jake gave a crooked smile. "Better than punching someone, I guess."
Alex smirked. "You're still not allowed to punch anyone. That's my job."
Jake laughed, then looked at the wrinkled flyer in his hand.
"You think they'll come back?" he asked.
Alex's eyes hardened. "Probably. But if they do… they'll know we're ready."
Jake nodded, then looked around the gym.
And for the first time, he didn't just feel like he worked there.
He felt like he belonged there.
Alex looked over at Jake, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. "You handled that better than I would've."
Jake shrugged. "Just figured I'd let the words speak for themselves this time."
Alex gave him a small nod. "You're not just my assistant anymore."
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What am I now?"
Alex smirked. "The soul of this place."
Jake flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're gonna make me cry in front of the weight rack, man."
They both laughed, and the gym returned to its peaceful rhythm. The kind of place where strength wasn't measured by how much you could lift—but how much you could carry… and still keep standing.