Heart
155 bpm
As Barney hits the five mile mark on the treadmill, beads of sweat form across his forehead, trickle down his chest, his back, sticking the shirt to his skin. He grabs a towel from the handrail and scrubs it across his face, thanking the Big Guy that it's too cold and dark to run in the park.
…like anyone needs to see him like this?
…like anyone would want him like this?
Robin didn't even want him like this.
He was so focussed on keeping her at any price that he missed the point when he gave up on himself.
160 bpm
He always preferred the term "lover" to "boyfriend" anyway, he thinks, as he thrusts into her, this latest, vacuous girl, all quivering flesh and silicone breast.
He has a choice now: Self destruction or reinvention. He's at the same crossroads he faced ten years ago and the shining path marked "awesome" lies ahead of him.
…but the sex is boring.
…but the girls are uninteresting.
…but his bed is empty on a Sunday morning and there's a dull ache when he comes.
The other path, the less travelled one, lies in darkness. The contrast is enough to grab his attention.
120 bpm - 170 bpm
Robin returns from the bathroom just as he's leaving to grab a round of drinks. He catches sight of her, out of the corner of his eye, but it's not like he notices her.
It's not like he notices that her mascara looks wet or that her eyes are a little bloodshot. It's not like he notices the way she bites her bottom lip.
It's not like his foolish heart doesn't lurch in sympathy, speed up, and judder.
Two hundred women and only one Robin Scherbatsky, Barney thinks, as he reaches the bar. That's his past.
Question is… what next?