#somehow i got carried away writing matt at the gym lmao don't feel the need to match!

[matthiaswarren]

WHEN: May 6th WHERE: A gym in Montague territory WHO: @santino-gallo

Pressure builds, and Verona sometimes feel like a homemade bomb. As the pressure rises, so does the temperature, and certainly the days getting warmer and warmer in their lovely little city does not help the pressure in all aspects. This war builds pressure in its tensions, rising and rising until someone finally decides to release some of what’s built up. Pressure builds in each of them, expectation being the driving force. Damiano expects success. Clients expect good deals. They expect so much of themselves. Matthias is no exception. He expects power in his strength. He sees the ghost of his father expecting vengeance. His other boss expects grades due at midnight and students expect the next lecture to be transcribed online as soon as possible. While he’s sure he’s not the man with the most weight to carry upon his shoulders, the force it puts upon him is still felt constantly, and for that, he must release some of the steam.

It’s what brings him to the gym so often. Strength is his weapon, his thing to wield against the world. It’s what he’s been honing for longer than he could remember, and it’s what he uses to release that pressure, even when it is related to the expectations he puts upon himself. Matthias doesn’t think about that as hands grip the metal bar before him, as arm muscles flex and leg muscles drive his body to lift the heavy weight from the ground. He exhales deeply after a few seconds of holding his breath as he releases the weight, it coming to the ground with a satisfying thud of weight against mat and clang of weight against metal. A wrapped hand comes to wipe the sweat from his brow before he replaces the bar. Matthias makes his way to the row of sandbags across the room, deciding steam is best released when you can imagine your enemy’s face on the receiving end of it.

He was not alone, he noted, as he saw someone standing near the bags. That someone was unmistakable, Santino Gallo never the most subtle man in the room with tattoos like that. Though, Matthias was often so used to seeing him that Santino’s presence could have gone unnoticed if it weren’t the first time he was seeing the man since the funeral. Matthias had kept his distance, then, knowing the toll mourning takes, knowing how he had wanted it during his father’s funeral, and never being able to understand how it must feel to lose a twin. He’s not sure what prompted Santino here today, but he can imagine the greater pressure within him, and the amount of steam that must be begging to be released. “Good to see you,” Matthias greeted, his voice quiet. “I’d imagine you’ve got a lot of things to drive you today.”