𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗦weat dripped from his hairline down and into his eyes, to which he instinctively got rid of with a smooth wipe of the back of his hand. Rueben continued running at a fast pace on his treadmill, focusing on only his reflection in the mirror in front of him.
He was working himself harder than he'd ever done in the past.
His ab muscles tensed and flexed with every step he took. His body was strong – appealing to the eye, sure, but it wasn't enough. There was always room for improvement, for more, and that's exactly what he needed. He wanted it. To be stronger, faster, smarter.
Especially if I want to save Matteo.
Once the trial concluded, that would be his number one priority. Once his name was cleared, he would do nothing but achieve the promise he made to Rayne a month and a half ago.
He reached to the side of his face and clicked up on the volume button of his Beat's headphones. Ignoring the sound of his breaths, he powered on, drowning all but his music out.
Rueben grabbed his water bottle from the treadmill cup – holder, not slowing his pace, and sprayed it in his face. He gasped for air as it glided down his cheekbones and jaw, mixing with his already apparent sweat. He shook his head and watched his hair stick to the sides of his wet face. A grin spread across his lips as the burn his lower abdomen began to set in.
Like (or unlike lol) people, running was his way of feeling free – of literally freeing himself. Instead of drowning almost the feelings that haunt his very soul, he spent his time focusing on the pounding of his feet against the mechanical belt; he focused on the balancing heartbeat that rang simultaneously and rhythmically through his veins.
It's only when I'm running ... can I think rationally ... clearly...
The last month and a half, has no doubt, been a roller-coaster of emotions. Between losing his sister, and clinging onto the little hope for the life of his best friend – he felt broken. But of course, being the person he was – being raised the way I was – did he show anyone this? No. Why? Because he couldn't.
That day he cried in Rayne's arms at the police station, now felt like a faded dream; it transitioned into a dream – one you forget almost immediately after you wake up.
He wouldn't say that he was incapable of showing his emotions ... no, that wasn't the case. But that didn't mean it was any easier to actually do it in general. Rayne just got lucky.
After that day, my ability to express myself died with Lilly.
Rueben continued to pound his feet against the floor of the treadmill, turning up the speed to match his intensity. He had come to the conclusion that a lot of people are afraid of showing their emotions due to the weakness that is like an automatic partner. Something to be held over their heads – something that lets another in.
