Barry feels his hand move and vibrate amongst the frequency of the matter around him. It nears the mans chest and the closer it gets the tighter Barry's chest becomes. Every nanosecond that passes, an ounce of his sanity leaves. Ever millimeter that his hand travels, he feels his humanity feel further and further away. The tip of his finger penetrates through the skin above his heart. He feels his hand slowly rip through arteries, muscles, tendons, the cracking of the rib cage— until he feels the membrane of the heart.
He can feel it beating, pumping. But as his fingers crush through the chambers, he feels it stop. He hears the man's breathing catch. Suddenly Baery's entire arm rested in the man's chest. As his body stopped moving, so did Barry. He stood there for a second in shock before slowly pulling his arm out. The man fell to the ground and he watched as the life left his eyes and the blood stopped moving through his body.
Only seconds had passed but to Barry, it felt like hours. The red fabric of his suit had been stained by the man's blood. He ripped off the fabric only to find that the blood had seeped to his own skin. He held his arm and fell to the ground.
There was a gaping hole in chest, blood surrounding the gash. He brought his attention back to his own blood-stained hand. He tried to rub the blood off but he couldn't. He rubbed with his clean hand, he tried to wipe it off on cleaner parts of his suit but it was so thick and so colored it wouldn't leave. It tarnished the bright paleness of his skin as if it was the scarlet letter— except this stand for adultery, it stood for murder.
He looked back down at Hernandez, who's face had become a ghostly white as it laid there lifeless. The sight was now engraved into his mind, sending a ring of terror throughout his body. The stillness of his limbs, the eerie flatness of his chest as his lungs no longer contracted.
What have I done? This thought initially remains only in his mind as he continues to glare upon the dead body, scanning it up and down as he hopelessly searches for any sign of life. As the finality of the kill settles in his mind, he slowly begins to lose his grip on reality just as Hernandez had lost his grip on life.
His limbs begin to feel numb as his heart only thumps harder and harder. Suddenly he feels as if they air around his is suffocating him. He doubts the existence of oxygen as he feels himself fall to the ground. His head is spinning as is his mind. The ability to breathe was becoming a foreign concept. He brings his hands over his ears as he tries to calm the loud ringing blaring throughout his mind.
"What have I done?!" Barry screams in agony. He feels himself go deeper into eccentricity as he begins to rock back in fourth, repeating the phrase over and over again until it becomes a mantra in his mind. He knew exactly what he did— and this is the irony of it all. He got satisfaction out of what he did. But it wasn't until he looked into the eyes of Hernandez and watched as the life slowly left from them, because he had shoved his hand through his chest— that he understood the gravity of what he did. And it pained him. That wasn't who he was.
He continues to rock back and fourth, staring into the abyss. He believes that he was truly losing his mind until he felt the warmness of another's hand resting upon his back. He heard a voice that seemed to have brought him back to this cold world that he had detached himself from. It stilled his hammering heart. It didn't just steal it— it took it into it's grasp and calmed it with one touch of the finger.
From that grasp, he felt himself lean into a sturdy figure, allowing himself to melt into his chest. He wraps his arms around his shoulders, enclosing him in his embrace as if he was a safety blanket. He was.
Barry rests his head into his chest, feeling the sobs release from their bondage. Tears were flowing like a steady river but the leather on Oliver's suit absorbed them just as Oliver absorbed Barry's body into his. Oliver caresses his head, resting his own chin atop of it. He feels the tears begin to set in his eye lids as Barry cries out to him.
"What have I done, Ollie?" He weeps into Oliver's chest. Oliver softly takes Barry's hair into the clasp of his palm and massages the back of his head.
He takes a deep breath as he ponders on his next words. He know he has to be frank with him, but he cannot be too harsh. So he decides to tell him exactly what he wished he would've been told after his first kill. "You did what you had to do, Bear."
"I-I killed him," Barry feels his breath hitch as he struggles to get the words out.
Oliver encloses Barry's face into his hands and brings his face level with his. He stares at him intensely, in hopes that he fully feels the exact words that he's trying to tell Barry. "You did. But now, only you can decide who you become after." He brings his face closer to his. "You can become stronger from it or let it define you for the rest of your life."
"I don't know how to move forward, Ollie. . ." Barry chokes, his eyes staring into Oliver's as they beg for mercy.
"All I know is you don't have to do it alone." Oliver smiles, fighting the firm muscles in his cheeks that want to frown along with the tears. "You are going to get through it, Barry. I believe in you." A light shines through his eyes as he speaks, the warmness cutting through Barry's soul.
Through tears, Barry mimics the emotion on Oliver's face. "But we need to get out of here."
Barry nods, looking back at Hernandez before running off, dropping Oliver on his bike so he could leave in his own way.
The pain was still there, burning away at Barry's insides. There was no justifying what he did. He relented to the darkness and allowed it to consume him. He took the life of another man— there was nothing that he could do to change it. But in the midst of all this murk stood a blaze. The blaze illuminated throughout Barry's soul— it was Oliver. He was a light. He was the light.
He truly did not see a life, a timeline, a world, anything— without Oliver Queen standing by his side for the rest of his life. He knew that he would not be able to deal with the fallout of his actions without Oliver. He was his rock. He was the drawstring on his arrow— except with Oliver around, it wasn't pulled back ready to fire. It remained in a constant neutral position.
Barry runs back into S.T.A.R Labs, feeling the burning glares of all who stared at him as he pulled himself to a halt. He caught a glimpse of Joe and Iris. He couldn't look up. He couldn't face them. He knew that he utterly disgraced them.
But despite this, Iris walked up to him. She took the bloodied gloves off of his hands and threw them into a trash can behind him. She took his hands into her own and pulled them to her chest. She looked up at him, forcing his eyes to look into hers. Sincerity filled her tone and expressions as she told him softly, "You're still a hero, Barry. Don't forget that."
She pulled him in for a tight embrace. Barry relished in it. He could sense the frustration and disdain that was instilled in Iris, yet, she showered him with compassion. She wasn't going to scold him for his mistake because she knew exactly who Barry was at his core and that's what mattered to her. It brought a sense of peace, and normalcy, back to Barry.
She cupped his cheek with her palm, smiling. She looked back at Joe, who's attention was towards the ground. She steps away from Barry as she addresses the rest of the room. Caitlin, Laurel, and Diggle's eyes are locked on Iris' as she speaks. "I think we should give them the room."
Iris pats his cheek before leading the pack out of the cortex. The tension suddenly thickens once again as Joe doesn't look up at Barry. They both stand there, lost for words. A conflict settles within Joe— the fatherly instinct to begrudgingly berate his son for doing something irrevocably stupid. But also, he feels the maternal empathy and grief that he constantly feels for Barry— the "kid" he has watched suffer tragedy after tragedy. The kid who has been knocked down so many times that he had every right to just give in to the punches and stay down.
And there stood Barry— his mind filled with apology after apology, but none of them justified what he did. No apology made up for the way that Barry felt as if he disrespected Joe. He raised him, groomed him into the man he is— or was. So much of the person that Barry grew up to he was attested to Joe. He would never have been able to become The Flash if it weren't for how Joe brought him up to be. And he felt as if he had just shat on all of that.
"Son," Joe begins lowly, keeping his sights set on the ground. "I'm not even going to pretend to act like what you did what justifiable in any way."
Barry takes a deep sigh as he slowly makes his way towards Joe. "I know—"
"Killing should never be the answer," Joe looks up, rage hinting in his tone as well as his glares.
"I know—"
"You better not ever think about pulling this again." He points his index finger at Barry sharply.
Barry shakes his head with aggression. "I won't."
"Do you feel any better about what happened?"
"No, I-" Barry begins apologetically. Tears fill up his eye lids as he stares at Joe. "I feel worse."
"You let that feeling drive you to never do anything like that again," Joe tells him pointedly. He opens his arms up to let Barry in, "Now come here."
••
Oliver unzips the back of Barry's suit, peeling it off of his shoulders and allowing it to slip to his waist. He takes a rag and dips it in soap water. He takes Barry's hand into his own and slowly begins to scrub the blood off of his hands. The strokes are slow and smooth— and soon his skin looks as if there was no blood on it. He continues to do this as he tries to wash off any trace of the man he just killed.
Barry watches earnestly, feeling a smile creep on his face as he relishes in Oliver's gentleness. Him just being there with him had a calming presence on his mind. It was what he needed.
He began to revisit the thoughts that he had on his run back to S.T.A.R Labs. Oliver was his anchor. His better half. He constantly ached and craved his presence, even if he only was away from him for seconds.
Oliver was the man he woke up to on his favorite mornings. Whether his back be facing him or he was staring into the exquisite carvings of his face, he never failed to smile and be thankful that Oliver Queen was the man he got to wake up to every morning. Drinking coffee together on the couch as they planned their days, then taking turns making breakfast for one another or him surprising Oliver with coffee and a breakfast bagel from Jitters— these were some the things he cherishes most in life.
He was the last thing he saw on his favorite nights. Whether they be out of breath from thrusting their bodies against one another, feeling his warmth as he cuddled up to next to him to fall into slumber. Or the nights he would watch Oliver serenely fall asleep in his arms, and he would melt into his breathing against his body.
Barry realizes that Oliver Queen stood at the forefront of everything he loved in his life. He was his life. They have been so close, so many times, to losing each other. Barry was so done with dealing with the risk, that he decided to take it into his own hands.
He grabbed Oliver's wrist and pulled him close to him. He places his head between his hands and brings his lips into his own. Oliver, taken back at first, slowly leans into the kiss on his own will. He wraps his arms loosely around Barry's waist.
As the kiss lingers, he traces his hand over Barry's spine, placing his palm across his neck. He keeps his other hand on Barry's waist and pulls his into his own. Barry bites down on Oliver lip, showing his liking to the sensations he felt.
Barry begins to unzip Oliver's jacket, Oliver aids this action before pulling the rest of Barry's unitard down to the ground. He then presses him against the wall, caressing his thigh into the ball of his hip and leaning in. He plants quick pecks all over Barry's neck. Barry flexes his neck as the feels the pleasure radiate throughout his body.
Suddenly Barry tightens up his loosening muscles, realizing that the question he was wanting to ask Oliver could possibly be seen as a heat of the moment question. He didn't want it to be— as he knew for damn sure that this was something that he wanted.
He takes his leg off of Oliver's hip and walks away slowly, forcing Oliver to resentfully pull away from his neck. A look of offense is evident on Oliver's eyes.
Barry takes Oliver's hands into his, the nerves and anxiety slowly building as he thinks about the words he is about to say. He squeezes them tightly, smiling as he thinks about who he wants Oliver to be.
"Ollie, I," he takes a breath as the nerves have tightened up his chest and made it difficult to breathe. "I just want you to know that you are the absolute best thing in my life." The offense in Oliver's eyes suddenly becomes an affectionate glisten as he continues to listen. "And if these last couple of months have taught me anything, it's that if I can't be with you, I'm a shell of who I can be."
He could feel the words slowly begin to trickle up to his mouth from the pit of his stomach. They were like butterflies knocking at his stomach before escaping and traveling up throughout his chest into his larynx. He takes his hands back to Oliver's face, a cheeky grin forming on across his lips. Oliver smiles softly
Tears begin to set in Barry's eyes as he thinks about the idea of forever, staring into the oceans of Oliver's eyes. He purses his lips, as they begin to quiver trying to repress the cries. "Oliver Jonas Queen, will you marry me?"
Oliver freezes as he tries to comprehend the question Barry asked him. Barry's eyes glare into his with hopeful inquisition, sending a warmth down Oliver's frozen state. Once the initial shock passed, an overwhelming sense of endearment came over Oliver.
"Are you sure?" Tears formed in his own eyes, making them glassy as he stared hopefully into Barry's.
Barry smiles. "I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life."
"Then yes," Oliver nods. He smiles ecstatically. "I'll marry you."
Barry aggressively throws himself into Oliver. They embrace each other in a way that they never have before. So many times, they have squeezed each other so tightly in times of hurt and comfort. So many times, their outpouring of love came from dark times or dark thoughts.
But in this, it came completely out of affection. Completely out of bliss. It was out of excitement and joy—-because the both of them knew that they were going to spend the rest of their days with the person who completed them. It was as if after months of the world telling them that they could not be together, finally it was unifying them as one.
Oliver brings Barry's face to his for a quick peck. After locking lips, they place their foreheads against each other's, allowing themselves to relish in this moment for as long as they can.
Barry smiles sneakily before running off, getting a change of clothes for him and Oliver. He changes himself first, then dresses Oliver on his own. Of course, being the sensual man he was, Barry took his time to redress him so he could admire the well crafted sculpture that was Oliver Queen.
Oliver looked at him with disdain as Barry smirked at him smugly. "That's unfair! I was so close to getting you naked and you couldn't wait until after to propose."
"Can I make it up to you tonight?" Barry asks, reaching his hand out to Oliver's.
Oliver reluctantly takes it, flashing a forced smile all in sarcasm. "I guess."
They smile and laugh as they begin to walk back to the cortex. The excitement was building in the both of them, as they couldn't wait to tell their closest friends the news. But what they didn't know, is what was waiting for them in the cortex.
As they walked in, gleefully holding hands, they were greeted by looks of fear.
"What's going on—" Barry talks with a smile and is interrupted by a news headline. The smile immediately becomes a frown of terror as feels his heart drop as he reads the — his legs becoming unsteady as he begins to trust his balance with Oliver.
The Flash— Wanted for Murder
"What are we going to do?" Iris asks, trying to hold back tears.
"How do they know that Barry killed Hernandez?" Oliver asks sharply.
Joe shakes his head. "They recognized the wound on Hernandez' chest— it was the same as the wounds of the Reverse Flash's victims."
Barry lets go of Oliver's hand as he brings both of his hands to his head, pressing them hard against his temples as he feels a tension headache begin to build. He never covered his tracks. He didn't think that he would need to.
"Hernandez is a criminal, why are they charging Barry for his murder?" Iris wonders, as it is becoming harder and harder for her tears to stay in.
"His men, they told the CCPD that The Flash was at the scene and he pulled them away," Joe begins, his tone becoming filled with worry. "They are charging him with aggravated assault as well as first degree murder."
"It's a valid case," Laurel adds from the other side of the room. Suddenly the feeling of the world spinning around him hit Barry again. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.
He never wanted any of this to happen. He just wanted revenge, "justice." His judgment was so clouded by his feelings and sentiments that he never even considered the potential consequences. But deep inside, he knew that he had to face them. There was no point in fighting the charges, no point in trying to paint himself as a savior. He needed to face justice for what he had done, or else he would never be able to be move forward the way that he needed to.
He stood up, and looked directly at the man who gave him his strength. The man he was ready to pledge his life to— and by ready, he meant ready.
"I know what I have to do," Barry says as he stares at Oliver longingly. He takes his hand and smiles. "I want to marry you."
"We already discussed this, Bear-"
"Now."