𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʏ - ᴛᴡᴏ

𝗛e pressed his hands to the shower wall in front of him and closed his eyes, letting the warm water glide down his skin. He breathed through his mouth as the liquid snaked around to the front of his face, running down the curves. After a couple seconds, he watched the water drip off his eyelashes as he stared at the ground.

The red from the blood he'd split during the course of the mission turned pink in reaction to combining with the water. He breathed slightly ragged as he watched it spin down the drain. When he's in the zone, he becomes the person he hates the most. He becomes the person his father groomed him to be. The person he desperately wanted to escape, but found himself relying on too often.

Rueben pushed his hair back, using both of his hands as tilted his head up into the stream coming down on him. Being here, under this pressure, was the only thing making him feel as if he were real. It was reminding him that the existence of his past actions were just a dent in the person he really was – who he wanted to be.

Who that may be ...? He had no idea.

All he knew was that he wanted to be nothing like his father.

He didn't want even a scrap of advice out of his playbook. He'd overdone that anyway. He sat there and acted as if he was this untouchable, beautiful, courageous king, when in reality, he was a peasant dressed in gold. None other than a fraud.

In the back of his mind, he blamed himself for not doing more research earlier. Of course, no child wants to nitpick into their parent's histories, but with titles like theirs, he should have done it regardless. He should have snooped – maybe then this entire situation wouldn't have blindsided him so harshly. Maybe then, the truth behind his siblings' lives could have been the reason they were brought back safely – at least in Lilliana's case.

But these thoughts were pointless. They were murdering him from the inside out. He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face; nothing would bring his sister back. Nothing would bring back the loyalty and respect his father indebted to him.

Standing here and mulling over the interchangeable would do more harm than good, but what else did he have left? He couldn't even talk to the people around him without blowing up on them. He had no intention of hurting his girlfriend – nor borderline kicking Isaac out, but there he went. In a fit of rage, he wasn't himself; he was a figment of what the public believed he was.

Heartless. Rude. Mean.

Passive. Angry.

Even if he fit into those placements of society, he didn't want to. He'd tried his entire life to get out from underneath the shadow of the mafia – whether that was by disregarding his birthright and purposely failing to attend meetings, or if it was putting himself more in the spotlight to show the world he wasn't the imagery they perceived, it didn't matter. It was all futile. A waste of breath and energy. If this mission did anything, it was to let him know that no matter what he desires, the secrets of those closest to him would always overcome them.