Reborn to Crush Him

Ten seconds from now, my controlfreak roommate throws the breaker. Three allnighters on my senior thesis. About to die with it.

Last time around, this hypocrite ended my full ride to a top grad school and called it looking out for my health. Now I'm back, dropped into the exact second he buried me.

I rip his phone out of the wall and jam my own plug into the socket to save my data. He loves his sick little dorm rules? Fine. I'll play.

This time I'm going to make him bet his own enrollment in front of the entire school.

At the finish line of that triathlon he loses the title, he loses his believers, he loses his degree, and they carry him off on a stretcher with his name in the dirt.

Chapter 1 Tick. Tock. Ten o'clock. Brett already had his hand on the breaker. I stared at the progress bar. 98%. The battery had given up hours ago. The plug sat in my fist.

And the outlet on the desk had Brett's phone in it, charging. Three allnighters had gone into that senior thesis. Thirty more seconds and it would be up.

Last time, those thirty seconds were where my life ended. Brett pushed the switch. The room dropped into dead black. My screen died with it. "Callum.

Clause 3 of the Clean Living Contract. Electronics after ten. Power off." He said it the way a judge reads a sentence. "One minute.

Please." My hands wouldn't come off the keys. "No— thirty seconds. Thirty seconds is all I need." He leaned in the doorway with his arms folded and watched.

My throat closed around the next word and wouldn't give it back. My face was wet and I couldn't say when that had started. "It's for your own good.

Late nights wreck your body." The upload failed. I failed the course. My guaranteed admission, full ride, top program, gone.

And here we were again. "Ten seconds," Brett said, and started counting. There was something happy in his eyes. The kind of happy a man gets when he owns a room.

I didn't scream this time. I stood up. Slow. The bar hit 99%. "Five. Four. Three—" I moved.

I ripped his phone out of the outlet and had my plug in before the cord finished swinging. Ding. Uploaded. The room went black. Brett's count cut off.

He stared at me like the math had stopped working. I met his eyes and gave him the meekest smile I owned. "Thanks for the reminder, Brett.

Going to bed." I closed the laptop and climbed into my bunk, taking my time. Not one wasted movement in any of it. Leaving Brett alone in the dark, face gone gray.

Next morning, before the sky turned gray, his alarm went off. Five a.m. Wakeup time, per the Contract.

Last time, five a.m. was when he hauled me out of bed by the arm and dragged me to the track halfblind. Today he was going to be disappointed.

I threw off the blanket and swung down. I was already in a brandnew topshelf compression kit, cut close enough to show every line I had.

On my feet, the newest carbonplate racers. Brett shut off the alarm, turned around, and found me fully kitted out, warming up in the mirror. He froze. "Callum?

You—" I looked back and gave him a big bright grin. "Morning, Brett. Let's go be healthy together." The surprise in his eyes turned smug fast.

He thought he had finally gotten through to me. "Good." He nodded, pleased with himself, handing the words down to me like charity. "Glad you came around." Our other two roommates, Tyler and Reid, sat up rubbing their eyes.

Tyler had always been Brett's number one. He was across the room in a second, laying it on thick. "Dude. Brett. That's insane.

You actually changed him." Brett's chin went up another inch. Chapter 2 I ignored the show and kept moving through my dynamic stretches. "Let's go.

Three miles today." Brett said it like a general handing down orders. I fell in behind him and said nothing. He took off hard and got out front, trying to put me in my place.

Tyler ran at his shoulder, wheezing, still finding air to flatter him. "Brett, you're so fast.

No wonder you're in Kinesiology." I stayed behind them, unhurried, holding a pace so even you could have set a metronome to it. My breathing stayed flat.

My heart rate sat dead center in the fatburn window. All of it came out of a training system I'd built with the one thing I was actually good at. Code.

Everything he put me through last time was data now, burned into my head. Brett's bro science wasn't even a warmup. Three miles ended fast.

Brett and Tyler were both bent over their knees, hauling air. I had barely broken a sweat. "Are we done?" I tilted my head. Wide eyes. All innocence. Brett's face wasn't great.

He pushed through it anyway. "Three is— three is plenty for a beginner." "Oh." I nodded.

Then I started doing high knees, right there in front of him. "I'll take another three, then. Feels like I'm just loosening up." I was back on the track before he could answer.

In the morning sun I ran light, an antelope that had never heard of tired. Brett stayed where he was, watching me go. Shock. Confusion. And underneath those, the real one.

The anger of a man whose authority had just been tested. Tyler's mouth hung open. Nothing came out of it for a long time.

By the time I finished six and got back to the room, Brett had his healthy breakfast ready. A plate of chicken breast boiled in water. A few spears of boiled broccoli.

He slid one plate across at me. Not a request. "Eat.

Contract says breakfast is high protein, low carb." Tyler picked up his fork immediately and went at it like it was Thanksgiving. "Brett, your chicken is so good." I looked at the flavorless food in front of me and my stomach turned over.

Last time, I ate this. I ate it until my face went yellow and my hormones were wrecked. I didn't touch it. I went to my cabinet and took out a shaker bottle.

Then, in front of both of them, I loaded it. Whey. Creatine. Glutamine. Cold milk. Cap on. Three hard cracks to mix it. I tipped it back and put the whole thing down in one go.

I burped. Satisfied. Nobody moved. Tyler's fork hung in the air halfway to his mouth.

Brett's jaw had come open and he hadn't caught it yet. "Callum, what is that garbage you're drinking?" Brett's brows came down. Nothing in his voice but doubt.

I gave the empty bottle a shake and took my time with it. "Whey isolate. The gold standard if you actually lift.

Absorbs faster than waterboiled chicken, and gram for gram there's more in it. I also added creatine.

Improves power output and endurance." Every word out of my mouth came from a place he had never been. Brett didn't say anything.

His eyes went past me, to the Clean Living Contract on the wall, and stayed there a long time. I knew what he was hunting for. A new rule. One that would work on me.

Chapter 3 Brett's face went a blotchy purple. "Shortcuts." He forced it out through his teeth. "Fitness is about doing the work. Eating real food. Not leaning on chemicals." Loud.

That specific loudness a man gets right after he's been seen through. Tyler jumped in on cue. "Seriously! Callum, you read a few things online and now you think you're something?

Brett's a professional." I laughed. "Professional. Is professional gassing out three miles in?

Is professional living on waterboiled chicken and never once hearing of the most basic supplement on the shelf?" My voice wasn't loud.

Every word landed like an open hand across his face. "You—" Brett came up out of his chair, chest heaving. The temperature in the room dropped through the floor.

Reid, who hadn't said a word the whole time, quietly slid his chair a few inches sideways, in case the fire spread. "What?

Did I get it right?" I looked him over, in no hurry at all. "Brett, your bro science is years out of date. This is the era of training on data. Efficiency.

And that contract you're so proud of? It's full of holes." Brett's chest was still going, but he hauled the anger back down and arranged his face into something wounded. "Callum.

Some supplement grifter online has gotten into your head." A slow, sorry shake of the head. "I'm not arguing with someone who's gone off the deep end." "Off the deep end?" I stood up, walked over, and put my eyes straight into his. "Then how about a bet?" Steady.

Sharp.

Whatever he had, he couldn't get it out of his mouth. "Let's bet..." I let it sit there, watching his face tighten, then pointed at the Clean Living Contract on the wall. "Whoever breaks the contract more times this month does every chore the other one has for a month.

Including washing his underwear and socks. Deal?" I put my weight on underwear and socks. Something ugly happened to Brett's face.

In his head, another man washing his clothes was his godgiven right. Washing another man's was beneath him. Tyler shrieked. "Callum, are you insane?

You can't make Brett do that!" "Is he scared?" I kept my eyes on Brett. "Or does he just have no faith in the contract he wrote himself?" A dare works on any guy this in love with himself.

It always has. "Fine. Bet." It came out of Brett as close to a roar as made no difference. "You wait, Callum.

I'm going to have you crying while you wash my socks." The corner of my mouth went up a little further. Brett. The game's barely started.

Day one of the bet, Brett put me under full surveillance. He watched me like a corrections officer, hunting for one loose thread of a violation to pull.

If I had class, he stood outside the door at the exact minute it ended, in case I ran over. If I went to the library, he set a hard ninethirty on it.

He wanted to put a stopwatch on my bathroom trips. Tyler became his lackey. His personal security camera, reporting my movements in real time. "Report!

Callum looked at the fried chicken in the dining hall twice!" "Report! Callum was at the water station for over five minutes!" I wasn't in college. I was doing time.

But I never gave them a thing. I was waiting. Waiting for the chance to let their own rules bite them to death. Chapter 4 I followed every line of the contract.

Tighter than Brett did. He got up at five. My eyes were open at four fifty. He ran three. I ran six. He ate boiled vegetables. I ate my cucumbers raw. At 9:59 p.m.

I was flat on my bunk, eye mask on, earplugs in. Do not disturb, made physical. A week of it and there wasn't a scratch on me. Brett was the one paying for it.

Watching me every hour of the day kept him strung on a wire. He had circles under his eyes now. He got shorter with everybody by the day.

That night, Tyler came out of the shower and dumped everything he'd been wearing on his own chair. Underwear included. A damp, sour smell went through the room.

Brett's brows pulled together. Clause 7 of the Clean Living Contract. Members will maintain personal hygiene.

Laundry will be washed and hung the same day. "Tyler." Brett's voice cooled. "Your clothes." Tyler had a sheet mask on and his phone up.

He waved a hand without looking. "Ugh, I'm so tired. I'll do it tomorrow." He was certain Brett wouldn't touch him. He was, after all, the most faithful of the faithful.

Brett's eyes went to the pile on the chair, then to the Contract on the wall, then back. Twice.

Let Tyler slide and he was slapping himself, breaking the rules he built with his own hands. Don't let him slide and he'd freeze the heart of every believer in the room.

He was stuck. I lay on my bunk and let one corner of my mouth go up. Cold.

Showtime. "Brett..." Tyler caught the look on his face and started whining. "I'm so tired, my legs are about to come off from that run, just let it go this once, come on." While he said it, he ran his toe up Brett's calf.

His usual move. Brett's expression started to give. That was when I spoke. Slow. Easy. "Clause 11 of the Contract. Penalties.

Any member in violation shall complete one chore for that day's Health Star of the Day." My voice wasn't loud. In a room that quiet, it got to every ear in it.

I sat up on my bunk, unhurried, and pointed at the leaderboard on the wall. I'd put it up a few days back to track how everyone was doing on the contract.

Plus one for keeping a clause. Minus five for breaking one. Right then, my name was out in front by a mile.

Tyler, on account of all his little habits, was already negative. "By the rules, I'm today's Health Star." I looked at Brett, eyes wide and clean and harmless. "So Tyler takes my punishment.

Right?" Brett's lips moved. Nothing came out of them. He was the one who'd nodded at that leaderboard. He was the one who'd signed off on the rules.

Now I had him in check with his own rules. Tyler's face went white. He stared at me, then at Brett. "Brett..." There was a sob in it.

Brett took a long breath in and finally pushed it through his teeth. "By... the rules." He couldn't burn his own authority for Tyler.

I threw off the blanket and put my bare feet on the floor. Every eye in the room came with me. Step by step. Over to the laundry basket in the corner.

I bent down and put my hand in. Chapter 5 I smiled. I took my time. I reached into my own laundry basket. A pair of socks. Six miles in them. Soaked through.

I carried them across the room to Tyler and held them out. "Here. Appreciate it." The smell coming off them turned Tyler's face green. "Callum!

You— you've gone way too far!" He shrieked it, backing up, like I'd handed him something toxic. "What?

Sore loser?" I raised an eyebrow. "Or does the contract only apply to other people?" Tyler was shaking. Tears stood in his eyes. He looked to Brett for help.

Brett wouldn't meet his eyes. "You did it to yourself," he said. Cold. "So you carry it." Right then Tyler's face went from wronged, to shocked, to hollowed out.

He finally understood it. In Brett's world of rules, he was a piece that could be traded off any time it cost too much to keep him.

He grabbed the socks out of my hand, crying, and ran for the bathroom. The dryheaving came through the door before long. He was trying to keep it quiet.

I looked at Brett's gray face. I looked at it for a long time. Brett. That was the opening move. Your fortress. I'm going to take it apart from the inside, one brick at a time.

Tyler turned faster than I planned for. After that night, after being made to wash my socks, there was poison in the way he looked at me.

But the way he looked at Brett had something new in it. A cold, careful distance.

He stopped putting Brett at the center of everything, stopped running ahead of him laying down praise. He started nodding yes and doing whatever he wanted. Brett told him to run.

He sat in the corner of the track on his phone. Brett told him to eat boiled vegetables. He snuck delivery orders and wolfed them down the second Brett was gone.

The first crack ran through Brett's reign. And I went on playing the model citizen. On real training and real food, my body kept getting better.

Skin tight, abs cut in sharp, the whole of me carrying power now. I even started doing strength work over at the campus rec center. Which is where I ran into Caleb Ferreira.

If you want to call it running into him. Caleb was a grad student in the Exercise Science department, and a name everybody in the weight room knew.

I was middeadlift when he came over. "Hey. Your form's clean. Core could come in a little tighter." Warm voice. A voice that knew exactly what it was saying.

I looked up into a clean, goodlooking face. "Thanks, Caleb." "Sure." He looked at the plates on my bar. "That's real weight you're moving." It went easy from there.

Training blocks. Nutrition. Returntoplay work. His theory was rock solid. Half of what came out of his mouth I'd already worked out on my own, alone, in the dark.

We were having a great time. That was when a voice cut in that didn't belong to either of us. "Callum. It's ten. Time to go." Brett.

Chapter 6 He'd come into the rec center at some point and now he stood behind me with a shut face, planted there like a bouncer. He looked at me. He looked at Caleb.

Nothing in his eyes but appraisal and hostility. "And this is?" Caleb asked, polite. "My roommate," I said.

Flat. "Ah." Caleb nodded, then came back to me. "That detail you brought up on the power clean. Next time I'll take you over to our motioncapture lab. Put data on it.

Way easier to see than me talking." "Yes. Thanks, Caleb." My eyes lit. "Anytime." He gave me an easy smile and left. I could feel the pressure system coming off Brett beside me.

It was close to freezing the air solid. "Callum." He was almost chewing it. "I'm warning you.

Stay away from guys like that." "Guys like what?" I made it look like I had no idea. "Slick. Oily. One look and you know he's no good." Vicious. "Training is training.

What's the point of all that fancy theory? Can you eat it?" I looked at his face, pulled a little out of shape by jealousy, and laughed where he couldn't see it