Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲.
He knows when to give space, alright?
It's just sometimes, he worries when he doesn't see a friend for a good while. He needs at least a text or a call to make sure they aren't kidnapped by a meta or eaten by a shark or—Point is, he has a perfectly good reason as to why he called 40 times, texted 286 messages, and even sent 2 emails (her work email).
Barry Allen isn't clingy.
He learned his lesson by not stalking Rae while he's in Flash mode. But the urge to go speed around the city was tempting. He hasn't been able to get in touch with her since last week, after Dr. Stein got a new meta-buddy for life?
A detached meta twin?
Someone who has the same powers as Ronnie but isn't dead and didn't get engaged with Caitlin?
Whatever.
Last time he heard her voice was something about her talking about Harrison showing up in a week or two with her muttering in her black notebook. He didn't get a good feeling about that name, but he didn't say anything. Because why would he? He trusts Rae. Completely. Fully.
However, some things weren't adding up. The things she knows before they happen, or she already knows things she's not supposed to. She knows all the meta names, their acting, hell she even knows Oliver is the Green Arrow.
(Which by the way, he hasn't told Oliver because he did not need that act of violence anywhere in his mind.)
He can't even bring himself to bring up the topic. He keeps giving her the benefit of the doubt, but how long can that last? Every time he starts to question how she knew everything, she would change the topic on purpose.
At some point, he had to bring it up. For all he knows, she could be working with Zoom.
(Though he really hoped not or else his luck is terrible.)
Or maybe she's Eobard Thawne's daughter, and it's the end of the world again—Yeah, Barry's mind was filled with worry of all the impossible possibilities.
Barry's mind raced like a car stuck in traffic, weaving through a maze of unanswered questions and unspoken concerns. He just wished Rae would let him in, share her thoughts like he had with her. But being the gentleman he was raised to be, he knew pushing her wouldn't help. So he waited, as patiently as he could manage, though the anticipation felt like waiting for a pot to boil on a slow Sunday afternoon.
Yet, Barry wasn't made of infinite patience. He could wait, sure, but the itch for answers nagged at him like a persistent mosquito on a summer night. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, that there was more to Rae's silence than met the eye.
So here he is, pacing back and forth in the Cortex when he's supposed to be at work in five minutes. His steps are hurried, his movements restless, his thoughts a jumble of uncertainty. He mutters under his breath, words tumbling out in a rush as he tries to make sense of the situation. His brow furrows in frustration, his fingers drumming anxiously against his thigh. He glances at the clock, his heart racing with anticipation and worry. Each passing second feels like an eternity as he waits for a sign, a signal, anything to ease the gnawing doubt in his mind. But all he can do is pace, back and forth, back and forth, trapped in a loop of uncertainty and longing.
