#trigger warnings:

You groan, choosing to ignore it. You were familiar with the sound of those shoes. That asshole didn't wear anything else, it was hard to miss the way the soles of his boots echoed in a quiet space. Or maybe you're just obsessed, as invisibitch says. Ugh.

"Your hands are bleeding." Robert's voice holds no emotion, at least none that you can pinpoint. He puts a hand on your shoulder, as if he could calm down your ragged, sharp breathing with just a simple touch. "If you want to go full force, you have to wear gloves. Bandages won't be enough... As I'm sure you can see."

You don't say anything. Not because you're ashamed or shy about him seeing you like this: in sport shorts, and only wearing your binder.

...speaking of that, "Are you... wearing a binder while working out?"

You push his hand away, walking to where your bag sat to take out a small water bottle, drinking from it as you sit down. "You're a hypocrite."

"Excuse me?" He replies.

"You're a hypocrite. That's what you are. I'm not the only one with bloody knuckles who hasn't been in a fist fight in weeks." You argh an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock curiousity. "Or are those bandages just for the office job aesthetic?"

Robert takes a look at his own hands, covered and wrapped with yellowed bandages that hid his scarred knuckles, chuckling dryly. "Okay smartass, sure. What about the binder? You wanna suffocate? I promise you there are much better ways–"

"I could also take your dick down my throat until I choke and die." You light a cigarette you've taken out of its pack, putting it in between your lips.

The silence that follows after those words is louder than any screams of agony and anger you could give the world when you smash your fists against that punching bag.

"Okay, first of all, you need help. Second, do you want your lungs to cripple up and bust? I mean seriously, this is ridiculous." He waves a accusatory hand towards you, all of you. The cigarette, the binder, the sweat covering your exposed skin... You weren't exactly going easy on yourself during your little training either.

"Want one?" You smirk up at him, holding up the pack for him to take one out.

"No, I-"

"You don't smoke? I have various footages that would beg to differ."

"I was gonna say I'm not gonna prove you right. Not right now at least."

"Wow, sooo stubborn. No wonders you've gotten so far in life, mecha-man."

You stretch, letting out a sharp gasp as the edges of your binder dig into your flesh again. It wasn't really any different, but every time you did anything that caused your breathing to shallow, that shit would claw at you like it's a fucking cage.

"Are you done with shit talking?"

Rolling your eyes at those words, you try to fix your binder so that it hurts a little less. "Are you gonna go on one of those inspirational speeches?"

"Yup, that's exactly what I'm gonna do." And then he sits down besides you on the floor, taking one cigarette out of the pack in your hand despite what he just said.

The silence comes back, broken by the flame of the lighter becoming ablaze, and the faint sound of the burning end of his roll. He takes in a deep breath, holding it in for much longer than necessary, letting the smoke burn his throat before he finally blows it out, away from your face.

"I know what it looks like. I do the exact same shit as you do, harming myself over and over just to forget about everything else that's happening with small things that are gonna make my life a living hell in the long run." He pauses, looking down at your legs for a second before looking back up. "But the things you do...? The damage comes so much earlier. I'm not your dad, but as a friend and a co-worker I can't just walk past you and let you hurt yourself like this all the time."

You hold his gaze for several seconds, only blinking a few times. Robert wonders for moment if you were even listening.

"Okay I'm gonna throw up. At least don't sound like a little bitch when you wanna give me advices on life." You look away, trying to hide away the blush on your face as you take another drag. "Keep talking like this and I'll tell everyone how you stayed awake for 48 hours two weeks ago, almost overdosing on coffee and energy drinks."

"Woah woah woah, how did you-"

"I basically have a camera in everyone's brain, don't you know that?" You scoff, leaning back against the wall as you mention your power. "I can't read minds, but I can see recent memories..."

"I'm gonna report you to HR for inappropriate use of your abilities."

"And I could report you for inappropriatly sexual actions during work hours." He really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut when he knows how your power works. You're starting to think he likes this whole gig.

"...okay seriously?" Somehow, you've never seen Robert look like this. Flushed red, and embarrassed. He's usually the nonchalant guy in these kind of stuff.

"Yup, completely. So unless you want your blonde babe to know how you were moaning and bitching in the bathroom, you better think about this: can you stop the things you do if you expect me to stop?" Finally, you find it in yourself to lock eyes with him, suddenly sounding much more serious. "Because I'm not gonna take shit from a hypocrite."

"Sounds like you wanna make a deal." A small smile crosses his face, eyes softening into something more gentle. It makes you want to hurl, but you'll let it pass. "I watch over you, make sure you don't do stupid shit and hurt yourself... Anddd, you can watch over me. Would you try then?"

"...sure." you crush your cigarette in a napkin, putting it in a plastic bag back in your backpack. It's not like you can just throw it on the floor of the gym. "We both "help" each other. If either of us breaks the deal, he's buying the other one a dinner."

Well now Robert is tempted to fail before it even starts.

"Great. It's a deal." He does the same with his cigarette, giving it to you so you can put it in the plastic.

You both get up, shaking hands before you push yours into you pockets, letting out a sigh. "Alright then," you punch him in the shoulder. "I'm out."

"Ow- wait, hold on, by the way.. I don't have anything going on with Blon–" you cut him off

"Yeah I know. You were moaning my name in the bathroom after all."

"...you heard that too?"

"Yeah no I just saw it. But looks like I was right." Damn it. Right. You could only see memories, not hear them. He outed himself!! "Good luck, Robertson the Third." With a sly smile, you leave the gym with your bag over your shoulder, waving at him lazily.

Alone in the gym room, Robert groans into his hands. How could he always forget about the way your power worked? And why wasn't he actually mad with the violation?