Bulk Up {Saturn/Benito}

Pick heavy things up, and put them down.

Life was as easy as that, at least, for someone like Saturn. Born to a family that dedicated to gold and silver metal work, he’d been afforded the luxury of training as much as he wanted (first born, eldest son, handsome, but never too forward in thinking he deserved it). Life was a series of coin flips, and each and every time for Saturn, they had turned up heads. His father had spared no expenses on his birthdays; his mother made sure to tell him how much he was loved each and every day (Satty was her favorite pet name for him, which still left his face flushed). Friends were not hard to come by, especially for a boy whose personality lent itself to melting into a group (he’s so nice, a word for when no one had any other adjectives to describe Saturn).

So he approached any struggle as he had with lifting weights: it was about being able to carry the load. Pick up the heavy stuff, and then put it back down again. His father had been caught cheating on his mother? Pick all of that anger, sadness, and embarrassment up, and when he was ready, put it back down again. He’d had to repeat his last math and chemistry course over the summer because of failing grades? Pick up all of the feelings of failure and sadness, and when he was ready, pack it together and bury it back down again. The time his friend had gotten him a little too drunk and kissed him? Pick up all the feelings of confusion and hold onto them, until he had to put them back down again.

The weights were a place of refuge for Saturn. Here he could navigate the safe harbor, between the free weights, bench presses, and squat wracks (no cardio machines, though – who the hell did cardio, anyway?). Here the world shifted into focus, between the rep counts (four count, holding on one and four), or when he paused, sweaty and heart beating full, at the end of a bench, staring off into nothing. He didn’t speak much to anyone here, most boys focused on learning how to kill versus getting much bigger. But Saturn found no joy in learning how to kill (he was good enough at hand to hand, and with a knife). The world was not one he even imagined he’d know – never needing tess, and in a district where volunteers were a dime a dozen.

Hey man, mind helping me out?

He stirred at the end of the bench press, a voice in his ear. He turned to look at Benito, stone faced and unmoved. Generally he was big enough that the boys either avoided him, or knew well enough that he was a tortoise ambling among the weights (slow, careful, and entirely uninteresting). He tried to put a name to the face that look so familiar – someone from the games, he reasoned after a good ten seconds – but drew a blank. Saturn gave a shrug and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I could help you.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, either. Saturn didn’t so much mind company. He was solitary, but by virtue of not a soul taking the time to get to know him. “If you’re serious. Plenty of people want to get bigger. Doesn’t happen fast.” He raised an eyebrow for good measure. “Name’s Saturn. What made you come over here?”