HEAT

Chapter 3:Ehersisyo

Reiner crosses the finish line near the stadium with Bertolt fast on his heels, both of them breathing hard and wet with sweat. The sun is over the horizon now, glaring down on them, and it's going to be another scorcher of a day.

Bertolt runs a few extra steps before stopping, bracing his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. Reiner whacks him on the back, not minding how his hand is instantly soaked, and pushes him in the direction of Coach Z and the water cooler before turning around to encourage the other runners as they straggle in.

"Great job, everyone! Great times!" The first runners to come back are all juniors and seniors, upperclassmen who've done this before and know what to expect. They look tired but not completely wiped, and accept Reiner's high fives and encouragement cheerfully before drifting towards the water cooler.

The middle of the pack is a mixed blend; less talented upperclassmen who still enjoy the sport (and more power to them, in Reiner's humble opinion; they don't win awards or help the team much, but they love running and are committed to the team); sophomores who are still developing their skill set but who have improved since last year; and the occasional freshman, already showing promise as a runner. Coach Z marks their times as they come in, and Reiner knows there will be some improvements on there. Something for everyone to be proud of.

The last group is mostly freshmen. Today is the first day they've done a drill where Coach Z asked them to run at top speed, the way they'd run during a meet, and the expected happened: the inexperienced runners shot out of the gate like the demons of hell were on their heels, thinking meet speed is synonymous with gotta go fast, and then burned out midway through. It's a valuable lesson, one Reiner had to learn himself, and he has plenty of smiles for the kids as they limp towards the stadium, trying to find one last bit of hustle.

They aren't all kids. Marcel has volunteered to be a pace runner with them, keeping them going and showing them a speed that's quick but also maintainable, and his brother had, of course, decided to stay with him. They lead a little clot of freshmen towards the stadium, and the wind picks up just enough for Reiner to catch a snatch of conversation.

"-almost there-if you've got anything left-"

Reiner starts to smile-that's good advice-but then Porco breaks in and interrupts his brother, and what he says carries all too well, his voice loud and strident and perfectly audible.

"Then bust ass to the finish line!"

As Reiner watches, Porco picks up his arms and wind sprints towards him, and he can feel his smile fracture a little around the edges. The kid is fast, he'll give Porco that; he's chewing up the ground between himself and Reiner, his hair blowing back behind him and fluttering like a reddish-gold flag, but he's also being an enormous show-off, and that's not the kind of person Reiner needs on his team.

Behind Porco, Marcel is rallying the freshmen, and suddenly they're all sprinting, or at least trying to, charging forward in a gangly, uneven crowd. None of them have the energy left to really sprint, not the way Porco is, or how Marcel is starting to, pulling a few feet ahead of the pack, but they're all laughing and excited, having a good time, and the runners who've already finished start up a ragged little cheer behind Reiner.

As he closes in on him, Porco lifts one hand, and Reiner realizes, almost too late, that he wants a high-five. He just manages to get his hand up in time, and Porco hits it with a resounding smack as he dashes past him, leaving Reiner's palm stinging and a gust of air that smells like sweat and faint cologne swirling around him.

Marcel breezes past, along with the giggling, cheerful freshmen runners, and Reiner turns to smile and congratulate all of them, ignoring the way his stomach is clenching and rolling over on itself. Goddamn little show-off, getting the freshmen all riled up like that...